FUNERAL PYRE
by Amorette

The woman laid the last of the torches on the makeshift stand so that all the heads came together and turned to the tall man at her side.

"Would you do the honors?"

He nodded and leaned forward, bringing his forearms together so that he could strike the metal bracelets on his gauntlets against each other. The spark was true and soon all four torches were blazing.

The woman picked up the first, then a young man the second and a boy, little more than a child, this third. The tall man picked up the fourth torch. All four of them walked solemnly through the gathered crowd to stand by the funeral pyre.

The woman, tears shining bright in her blue eyes, stepped forward and thrust her torch into the wood stacked beneath the body.

"Good-bye, Papa," she said, her voice trembling. "I know you said not to mourn your passing, you had a life that was full enough and long enough for a dozen men but I'll still miss you. All your children wish you a safe journey."

The young man stepped forward. His voice was tight as he spoke, also pushing his torch against the wood. "Farewell, grandfather. Thank you for all your gifts, your courage, your wisdom, your humor, your heart. All of your grandchildren are thankful that you lived long enough to be so important to all of us."

The boy, an older man at his shoulder, was shaking but his clear child's voice was firm. "Bye-bye, great grandpa Olus. I love you."

Now it was the tall man's turn. He could barely speak above a whisper as his torch slid into the pile.

"Farewell, last friend of my youth. I know you didn't mind getting old, I know you didn't mind dying, but I sure as Tartarus am going to miss you. Say hello to everybody for me and apologize to them that I won't be seeing them for a while. I know it made you laugh but I really meant it when I said immortality sucks."

One of the woman started to sing then, a song of passing, of mourning and weeping and then going on with life. As she sang, more and more voices joined in until everyone was singing as best they could through their tears.

The body on the pyre, wrapped in its winding sheet, was small and the bones dry. It caught quickly, sending showers of sparks into the night sky.

"Hercules."

He looked down from watching those sparks as they carried the mortal remains of his best friend and managed a weak smile for his friend's eldest daughter.

"Mene."

She had her father's blue-green eyes but her mother's dark hair. None of Iolaus' descendants had inherited that waving wheat gold hair, not even the grandson who looked most like him and carried his name. The younger Iolaus had dark blonde hair and it was straight. That Iolaus was standing next to his mother, looking concerned.

"You know that as long as any of Iolaus' descendants are here, you have a home."

"I know." He hugged the plump little woman who reminded him, not physically but in so many other ways, of his own mother. Hard to believe he had held this woman in his cupped hands when was she was only hours old, more than fifty years ago.

"I also know," said Iolaus' daughter, pulling away and wiping her eyes, "that you hate crowds so I don't expect you to come inside tonight but promise me you won't forget us and that you'll visit us soon, even if Papa's gone."

"I will." He squeezed her hand gently. "I promise."

"Well, then, I better see that the girls have enough food out. You boys will watch the fire, wouldn't you?" On that practical note, Mene hurried off to her house.

"Hercules."

"Yes." He couldn't bring himself to call this young man by that beloved name just at this time.

The young man reached into the pouch at his waist and pulled out a wrapped bundle.

"Grandpa wanted me to give you this and to tell you. . .now, I'm just telling you what he told me." The younger Iolaus looked nervous.

"Go ahead." Hercules knew, without even unwrapping it, what was in the bundle of linen. He could feel it through his fingers and was surprised that it hadn't been on the body. Iolaus hadn't wanted to give it to any of his children or grandchildren, he had told Hercules long ago, because it had been broken. Hercules could hear his friend's voice, gone rather thready in old age, say that had the medallion been intact, he would have passed it on but since it was broken, somehow that didn't seem like an appropriate gesture. Especially, Iolaus had said dryly, when you remember how it had been broken.

"Grandpa said you were supposed to throw it into the woods behind the house and then go find it."

Hercules looked up from the familiar object, puzzled. "He said what?"

Iolaus the younger shrugged. "He was getting pretty odd these last few weeks. Well, I guess anyone who lives to be over a hundred years old has the right to be odd. He was completely blind, you know, but his hearing was still good. He used to sit in his chair by the fire and talk to people who weren't there, like grandmother and some of his old friends and you could swear he was actually hearing them. Anyway, it was after one of those conversations that he told me to give you this and what you were supposed to do with it."

Hercules turned the medallion over in his hands.

"Thanks. . .Iolaus."

The young man gave Hercules a trembling smile, then quickly hugged the bigger man. He turned and walked back towards the other male members of the family gathered around the pyre.

"Throw it into the woods, huh?" mused Hercules. "Were you just giving me an excuse to avoid the crowds? And did you have any idea how many people would be here for this? Mene said there were nearly 200 people here today and only half of them were your relatives."

Good grief. Iolaus' family would think Hercules was getting senile if he could hear him talking to himself like this. With a shrug, Hercules threw the medallion, watching, with his semidivine sight, as it spin and arced away over the trees behind the field where the pyre was burning. After a moment, he walked into the woods.

Did Iolaus realize, thought Hercules as he pushed his way into the darkness of the wood, that his funeral would be at night? Maybe he expected to be burned at midday because it sure would be easier to find a dark-colored object on the forest floor in the sunlight.

Just when Hercules was about to give up and go back to the house, a faint glow of light reflected off something on the ground.

"It's over there."

"Thanks." Only as Hercules picked up the medallion did he recognize the voice. For a moment, he wondered whether he was going insane because, even though he hadn't heard it with quite that firm a timbre in a long time, he knew whose voice it was.

Cautiously, Hercules raised his eyes.

Iolaus was standing there, glowing with his own luminescence, in a clearing not five paces away.

"It's you." Hercules swallowed past a lump in his throat.

"Who were you expecting?" The familiar grin flashed across Iolaus' face. Iolaus' younger face because the glowing specter before him looked to be about forty years old and the last time Hercules had seen Iolaus, he had been a fragile, white-haired man a hundred years of age, his eyes blind with cataract, his skin translucent over knotted veins, thin and brown-spotted. This ghost had golden hair, golden skin and bright blue eyes.

"I dunno. You, I guess."

"Glad the boy remembered to give that to you." Iolaus pointed at the medallion in Hercules' hand. "I thought he might decide it was too bizarre a request and just pitch it."

"Yeah, he's a good kid."

"Pity he didn't work out as your partner. I mean, you guys worked out pretty well those times you went together but then he got that girl pregnant." Iolaus snorted. "I told him what to do to avoid that sort of complication but you know young love."

"Yeah." Hercules' hand curled around the medallion as he tried not to let the tears welling up in eyes spill over his cheeks. He could barely talk as it was. "So, my last chance to say good-bye, since I didn't get here until too late yesterday."

"Well,not exactly."

"Not exactly. What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's a little complicated." Iolaus leaned over as if he were listening to someone whispering in his ear. "You might want to sit down."

Too stunned to do anything but obey, Hercules perched on the edge of a convenient rock and stared at his friend. Iolaus was even wearing that disreputable vest he had worn in those years, when he and Hercules had gone adventuring together. And he was wearing his medallion, although the one on the ghost's chest was whole.

"See, I have a problem." Iolaus waved a hand at someone unseen, as if to silence them. "I don't mind being dead. When you get to be my age, dead starts to look pretty good. You have no idea how hard is to get old."

"No," replied Hercules truthfully, "I don't."

"But the problem is, I'm not very good at being dead."

"You haven't had much practice lately but you used to get dead a lot."

"I know. And every time I was dead, I came back. You know why?"

Hercules found it disconcerting to be stared at so intently by those clear eyes.

"Because you're hard to kill?"

"Tartarus, no! I'm easy to kill! I just can't stay dead because of you."

"Sorry."

Iolaus laughed. "Don't apologize. See, when I died the first time, you got Zeus to turn back time to bring me back." At Hercules' attempt to interrupt, Iolaus just waved his hand at him the way he had before. "I found that out when I went into the Light. I also remembered a couple of other things that your messing with time had erased before. Then you brought me back after the Fire Enforcer played her little tap dance on me and then, the last time. . "

"You brought yourself back."

"Uh, not really. Nobody else could have pulled me back into the living world. No ordinary mortal would have had the strength. I might have been able to communicate with someone else but I needed you to pull me through. The point is though. . ."

Iolaus took a deep breath, which Hercules thought odd, since he was a ghost. Did ghosts need to breathe or was it just the habit of a lifetime.

"I have this connection with you." He paused as if listening again. "See, usually, especially when you die when it's your time, a soul is ready to turn away from this world, this. . ." He nodded to someone Hercules couldn't see, although if the demigod squinted, he could almost make out flickering lights dancing around the glowing ghost of his old friend. "Corporeal, good word, this corporeal world. A soul is ready to move on and generally, once a soul is in the Light or wherever, it doesn't look back."

Iolaus sighed. "My problem is, I have this unbreakable connection to the world of the living and I keep looking back. That's why I wanted to stop the Four Horseman way back when. Most of the Guardians and everybody else in the Light was sort of, you know, it's that place we left and we don't really care about it but I cared!"

"Because of me."

"Yeah."

"I don't need to explain that," Iolaus said, sounding exasperated. "Hey, Herc, do you want me to tell you all about how the Elysian Fields and every other place souls end up are connected to the Light?"

"Not this minute, no."

"See, I told you."

As Iolaus listened again, Hercules was sure he could see a thin white streamer like a wisp of smoke that didn't dissolve in the breeze standing near his friend. Hercules wondered who he was talking to.

"All right!" Iolaus looked back at Hercules. "Short version, souls wait for the other people that matter to them. When everybody is ready and together, you move into the Light. Got that?"

"Yeah." Hercules thought about it, speaking slowly as he thought it over. "When you get to the Light, you're still waiting. . .for me."

Iolaus grinned again. "You got it." Then his smile faded and he looked down at his hands. "I am always looking back over my shoulder, so to speak."

"So your being my friend has messed up your afterlife the way it sometimes messed up your life."

Eyes wide, Iolaus took a step towards Hercules, his hand reaching out to comfort him. "No, Herc! Don't think of that way! How many times have I told you. Being your friend was what I wanted to be more than anything else! Alive or dead! It's just that because of the connection between us, what you might call 'The Powers That Be' aren't sure I should be here. Yet."

"Yet? Iolaus, you were over a hundred years old when you died." He pointed back to the funeral pyre, the sparks still rising into the sky above the tops of the trees. "And your body is toast."

"That one is, sure. But the deal is this." Iolaus looked intently at Hercules. "I can come back. To be your partner."

Hercules felt the tears well up in his eyes again. The last couple of days had been a strain. First the message that he should hurry to his old friend's side, then arriving to find Iolaus had died only hours before, then the funeral and facing all those people who were trying to comfort him when there was nothing anyone could possibly say that would be of comfort. Even though it had been more than fifty years since Iolaus had been his back-to-back buddy, his old friend was still his friend, still someone to talk to and laugh with, the last link with the old Hercules, since Hercules felt himself now more legend than man.

"I can't. . ." His throat was so tight, Hercules couldn't get the words out. "Everybody is waiting for you."

"Remember when my grandson told you I was getting senile and talking to people who weren't there? Well, I was talking to people who were there, to me. When you get as old as I was and close to death, the barrier between the living world and the afterlife gets pretty thin. I talked to my wife, to my parents, to your mother, to Jason and all our old friends. We talked it over and agreed that if you want me to, I can be your partner again."

Hercules shook his head as the tears spilled down his cheeks. Just talking to this glowing ghost of the younger Iolaus was tearing at the demigod's heart. To hear that voice again, strong and sure, to see the strength and energy that had once been such a part of Iolaus, was painful when Hercules remembered the frail old man Iolaus had become.

Wiping his eyes, Hercules managed to whisper, "I can't watch you get old again."

"I won't."

"What?"

"If I come back, I come back in a. . ." The invisible person next to Iolaus prompted him. "A new form. I'll look like this." He gestured at himself. "But I won't be mortal. I'll be immortal, like you."

"Like me?"

"Well, I don't get the strength and all that stuff but I'll get the other benefits, hard to hurt and quick to heal and I won't get older and I won't die unless you do." Iolaus laughed suddenly. "I wanted to come back younger than you but The Powers That Be decided I should come back in the form I was just before that unpleasant little incident in Sumeria."

"That's why your medallion is in one piece."

Iolaus picked up the object in question and nodded, looking down at it. "You know, I'd gotten used to it being broken. I've forgotten what it looked like before."

Hercules turned the broken medallion in hands over and over. He thought over what the ghost had said to him.

"There's a catch, isn't there?"

"No, not really."

The ghost paced by Hercules. As he did, Hercules looked up and realized he could see through Iolaus, see the trees on the other side of him. The grass under those ghostly feet wasn't bent and Hercules had no sense of a living body close to him, no sound of breathing, no body heat, no scent of living flesh. It stopped, standing a pace in front of Hercules.

"Well, sort of. The decision is yours."

"Mine?"

"That's the catch. I can't come back on my own, any more than I could the other times I died. If you don't want me as your partner anymore, and I'll understand, it's been a long time, you've gotten used to being on your own, then I stay dead and get to spend time with everybody who passed before me. I even get my old Guardian of the Light job back, if I want it."

Hercules looked up at the ghost, hoping to see in its face what Iolaus wanted but all he saw there was happy expectation, expectation that whatever happened now was what Iolaus wanted.

"What do you want?"

"Nope." Iolaus shook his head. "This is your decision. See, I would love to be alive again and be your partner but I'd also love to spend time with everybody who is already here and see what lies beyond. Either way, I'm happy. And whether I'm with you physically or not doesn't matter because I'm always with you in spirit."

"But. . ."

"Your call." Iolaus' ghost was staring at him intently again. "For once in your life, you get to be completely selfish. Don't think about what I want or what you think I want or what you think anybody else wants, think about yourself. What do you want?"

Did Iolaus really have to ask? Hercules wanted to laugh. No, he knew that Iolaus knew what was in his heart. It was those 'Powers' that wanted Hercules to state plainly just how selfish he really was.

"Not dying," said Hercules, "is not such a great deal. You watch everyone get old and you never. . ." He hadn't hurt this much in a long time. He had to pause and wipe his nose on his shirt. "You never get to see those people who are waiting for you."

"I know." Iolaus' voice was soft. "I've seen that in your eyes for years. Even after I couldn't see you anymore, I could feel it in you whenever you came to visit. How hard it was for you to visit me. How much you wanted for me to be young or for you to be old."

"I can't condemn you to that. You'll never get to be with those you love."

"I'm always with those I love." Even the ghost's eyes were bright with tears. "They are a part of me. And if you're really worried that you might get sick of my company and want me to go away, that's not a problem either. Any time I want to go into the Light, all I have to do is ask."

Hercules couldn't look at the glowing vision of Iolaus any longer. He closed his eyes, wishing it would go away and terrified of how much it would hurt if his wish came true.

"Herc, you have to make a decision. If you don't, then I'll be following you around like this until you do. And since only you can see me at the moment, people will start thinking that while your body has stayed young, your mind has gone."

"I. . .I can't."

"Give me your hand."

"What?" Hercules looked at the ghost and saw it was extending its hand towards him. He remembered that hand emerging from the chest of Iolaus' body as it lay on the altar in Dahak's foul temple, reaching desperately for Hercules and salvation. He remembered that hand, those small, strong fingers, grasping his as he pulled Iolaus out of a pool of water, out of the Light and back into the living world.

"Give me your hand. If you really, in your heart of hearts, want me to go on, then you won't be able to touch me." The extended hand didn't waver. "If you really want me back, then you'll be able to take my hand. You've made the decision, Herc, all you have to do now it act on it."

Herc. Nobody called him that anymore. The last person who called him that, who thought of him as a man who could feel and fail and just be like anybody else, that person was dead and his ashes scattering to the four winds. How could he call that person back from eternal bliss to this hard, painful thing called life?

Let him go, Hercules thought. Let him go to enjoy what lies beyond. He extended his hand.

For an instant, Hercules felt nothing beyond a faint warmth, then, gloriously he felt those strong fingers wrap around his forearm and felt his own fingers curling around that familiar gauntlet. As he stared at his arm, he could see the ghostly arm solidify, could feel the warm flesh against his own. He could hear Iolaus suddenly, breathing.

"I thought," Hercules whispered, not able to look up, keeping his eyes focused on the arm he held, "I let you go."

Iolaus sounded amused. "It would appear not."

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Iolaus laughed, that wonderful laugh, full and rich as Hercules hadn't heard it for so long. "For what? For being true to yourself. Herc, look at me."

When Hercules couldn't bring himself to follow that command, he felt fingers grasp his chin and tilt his face up until he was looking at Iolaus again.

That waving blonde hair, unruly and unkempt, was blowing in the breeze. The wrinkles around those blue-green eyes, clear and sharp with youth--well, early middle age--were crinkled up in that impossibly beautifully smile. Hercules noticed, to his surprise, that Iolaus could use a shave.

"Hello."

"Hello."

Without conscious intent, Hercules stood up and pulled that sturdy figure into a tight embrace. To his delight, he could feel that hair tickling his chest, feel Iolaus' chest rise and fall as he breathed, could smell the familiar scent that was Iolaus.

"Ah, Herc." The voice was muffled. "I'm immortal now but I still like to breath."

"Oops. Sorry." Hercules released his friend and stood back, staring at him again. He had almost forgotten what Iolaus looked like all those years ago. "Now what?"

"Now?" Iolaus tilted his head and shrugged his shoulders. "Now we go off and save people who need saving." He nudged Hercules in the ribs. "We do just we used to do. Fishing. Eating." His grin widened. "Find some women."

"Iolaus!"

"Do you have any idea how long its been since I got laid? More than ten years."

"Considering your age, I would have thought more like twenty or thirty years."

"Nah." He winked. "I'd been at it up until the last year or so if I could have found any old women still interested."

"You," said Hercules, surprised to find himself grinning just as widely as his friend, "are incorrigible."

"Whatever. I suppose I can't crash my own wake, which is too bad because that venison Mene was roasting smells wonderful." Iolaus sighed. "I guess we can just head into town and see what's available there. Make plans over dinner. You'll have to buy, of course. You can't take it with you, you know."

Still feeling stunned, Hercules followed his partner through the woods, wondering if listening to that voice would wear on him eventually. Probably, he decided, but it might take a few centuries.

"So," Iolaus was saying,"any monsters left in Greece? I could really enjoy a good fight. Haven't been in one of those for years."

May 2000