GOOD NIGHT, SLEEP TIGHT

By Sandman

"Tell me about the East," Hercules urged as he rolled languidly over onto his side and slipped an arm under his head.

He stared across at Iolaus, lying supine, legs stretched out and arms bent back pillowing his own head. The light of the moon stroked his golden hair, highlighting the unruly twist of curls. He lay there in only his clout, the fine misting of sweat that glistened over his muscles was testament to the heat of the summer night. Hercules watched Iolaus' muscles lengthen and bunch again as the smaller man stretched and wriggled to even out the ground beneath him.

Iolaus' eyes scanned the sky above, hazy with the heat. He could see the twinkle of the stars, a little dimmer than usual, but to his trained eyes just as visible as they needed to be. Haze was no hindrance to the hunter.

"The stars are different there," he finally spoke.

Hercules stared across, silently assessing Iolaus. In the months since his return, Iolaus had never really told him about the East. Sure he said it was a long hard journey and that he'd learned a lot, but he never REALLY talked about any of the aspects that had touched his heart. Sure, he talked about the fighting, the long journey, anything physical. But Iolaus had changed more than physically since he'd been gone. He was a little quieter, more thoughtful, as if his mind was running over something that his mouth didn't want to release.

And in truth, Hercules had been a little afraid to initiate this line of questions, fearful that the unwanted memories of Ania and the boys would return and overwhelm his friend. But tonight seemed right. Iolaus had been relaxed, happy almost, and close to saying something several times today, but stopped himself. Yes, tonight Hercules might be able to get him to open up.

Iolaus was silent, his breathing nothing more than a soft blowing from his nose, lips tight and eyes straight upward, away from Hercules, away from the honest caring he knew he'd see in his friend's eyes. He wasn't sure if he was ready to talk, though he could almost feel Hercules' curiosity. Crickets chirped a soft lullaby, the only sound in the damped stillness of the humid night.

Iolaus sighed. "What do you want me to tell you?" he asked without looking over.

"What ever you want."

"A bedtime story?" Iolaus chanced a glance. Hercules wasn't smiling. His eyes were serious and once they caught onto Iolaus' they stayed locked and demanding.

"You can call it that," Hercules offered.

Iolaus knew what was between them, what Hercules wanted to hear.

Iolaus grew silent and tore his eyes away from Hercules', turning them back to the familiar night sky.

"It was a very strange place," he began. "Very beautiful, yes, but different from anything I'd ever seen before. The sights were enchanting, the smells mystifying, the voices like singing more than speaking." His voice drifted off.

Hercules pulled Iolaus back. "Tell me about it."

Iolaus shook his head. "You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

Iolaus could hear the comfort in the lowered timbre of Hercules' voice. "There was just so much I'm not sure where to start."

"How about the food?" Hercules suggested picking a subject he knew was dear to Iolaus' heart.

"The food," Iolaus murmured. "It wasn't rabbit."

"That's it?" Hercules couldn't keep the stunned surprise out of his voice.

Iolaus shrugged. "It was a while before I really wanted to eat. I didn't have a lot of appetite. You know how it was for me."

"I could see your pain." Hercules tried to help Iolaus talk more. "But eventually you did eat."

"Sure." Iolaus grimaced. "But I got pretty lean on the trip out there."

Hercules couldn't picture a lean Iolaus. The friend he'd always known was solid, strong and vivacious. But the Iolaus that had left Greece to escape the memory of the deaths of his wife and children had already started to look drawn, even shrunken with pain. He shuddered to think of what Iolaus had looked like when he'd finally reached his destination.

"What was the first Eastern food you ate?"

"Rice." Iolaus didn't hesitate. "It's this white grain, hard until you cook it, then it's soft and fluffy. Not a lot of taste, but pretty filling."

"Rice," Hercules echoed, hoping to keep Iolaus talking. He'd never been able to get his buddy to talk even this much about those dark days of his journey to find himself.

"Yeah, they love the stuff in the East. Grows in this flooded tilled area they call a paddy. They tend to it like a regular crop, women and children working right long side the men. They harvest it and dry it, then store it so they can eat it all year."

"But you weren't real fond of it," Hercules noted.

"Like I said, it's not rabbit," Iolaus countered, turning to Hercules with a small smile. "But they do have other food that's good. And they eat everything. Even dogs."

Hercules felt his stomach churn. "You didn't." he wondered aloud, knowing how much Iolaus loved dogs.

"Nah," Iolaus grew serious. "But they have some strange customs."

"Like?" Hercules prodded.

"Well, they eat with little pointed sticks called chop sticks." He sat up and scanned the area, sighting a couple of twigs and picked them up. He grasped them in his right hand, holding them carefully; he deftly picked up a small pebble that lay between Hercules and himself holding it firmly between the twigs. "This is how they eat."

Hercules raised an eyebrow.

Iolaus anticipated the question. "There aren't many fat people in the East, and they call the land Chin." He tossed the two twigs at Hercules. "Go ahead. Try it. See if you can pick up a pebble.

Hercules stared uncertainly at the sticks, fumbling with their delicate brittleness and the awkward way they sat in his large hands.

"I'm guessing the people of Chin are not large," Hercules ventured as he pushed at the pebble like a plow through a garden. Iolaus had come back from the East lean but stronger even than when he was at the Academy, so Hercules figured that Iolaus had found the secret to using the strange implements.

"No, they're delicate and very beautiful," Iolaus answered quietly as he lay back down against the dirt and cast his eyes upward.

Hercules stared across at Iolaus, as the hunter lay silently, lost in the humidity and darkness of the deepening night. He was slipping back to the quiet loneliness that had enveloped him so frequently since his return, and Hercules was concerned.

Deineira had suggested the hunting trip, knowing that the two friends needed time alone, without her, without the kids, without the constant reminders of the life Iolaus had once loved and too soon lost. Hercules had gone along with the idea, thankful that Deineira had suggested it, knowing that even if he looked healthy and fit, Iolaus was still not whole. And as he looked across at his friend he wondered if he had finally bitten off more than he could chew.

Iolaus watched as the sky, so clear during the day grew hazier as the moon traced its silent path across the sky, leaving the east and resettling in the west when the darkness of night was finished. The stars had dimmed and what little twinkle they'd shown just moments earlier was rapidly dying much as his soul had not so long ago. East had been simply a place to run to, so far away that the gods of Greece and the trials of his life would never find him. But they'd just come with him.

Yes, the East had been a diversion, a place of great learning for him, a place with a culture and belief system so different from any he'd ever encountered that he couldn't help but grow in strength, in understanding of himself and others. He'd learned to speak the language of Chin, to eat with the sticks, to meditate and to fight with grace and speed unknown in even the advanced Greek and Roman societies. But there was still one small piece of the puzzle that he hadn't found. The one which would free him.

Iolaus rolled away from Hercules, curling in on himself and let the night hug him close. He listened to Hercules fiddle with the sticks, poking impotently at the pebbles, repeatedly trying to lift them with the sticks. Iolaus sighed, knowing that Hercules wasn't a quitter, but that with his big hands working the fragile implements it would take quite a while to master. Until then Hercules' persistence would make the hopes of a good night sleep nothing more than a dream.

"There's a trick to it," Iolaus spoke softly, listening as the stick poking stopped and Hercules sat silently. "Only the top one moves."

**

Iolaus dreamed of the East, of colorful brocades, of brides dressed in black and funerals of pure snowy whiteness, of strange creatures in cages being sold by market vendors, of exotic teas that relaxed a man, or made him stronger and more virile, or healed an illness. He smelled the scent of the tightly caged white ducks awaiting slaughter and the perfume of the women walking past in short shuffling steps with feet so tiny that they seemed impossible to balance on, let alone move with such grace. He saw golden skin and almond eyes downcast, sly peeks at the strange yellow haired, blue eyed white man who walked among them like a ghost. He felt alone, yet swallowed up by the great beast of Chin, made of masses of people more tightly packed than he'd ever known in all his travels across the Mediterranean lands. The people pressed against him, carrying him along like a herring on its migration, leading to a destiny he had yet to know or understand.

Iolaus awoke the next morning as tired as he had been when he turned away from Hercules the night before.

**

The sky was glowing a deep red when Hercules and Iolaus again set camp. The day had netted a decent catch, a wild boar which had fought valiantly for its life, but lost none the less. It had put up a worthy fight and Iolaus almost regretted its death, but the knot in his stomach and the knowledge that Deineira and the kids would be made stronger by it made the kill worthwhile. Still the zest for hunting he'd felt before Ania and the boy had lessened. There was no rush of adrenaline or heart pounding wonder of who would win the battle anymore. Iolaus honestly didn't care. Someone would live and someone would die. He or the animal, it didn't matter.

Hercules tried not to show too much concern, but in truth he worried about Iolaus. The old anger and raw pain that his friend wore tight about him before left for Chin were gone, for that alone he was thankful. But they had been replaced by a sense of melancholy and hopelessness that was so unlike the old Iolaus that Hercules couldn't help but worry. Iolaus needed to talk.

For as long as Hercules had known the hunter, talk had been a great release. Jokes when he was happy, songs when he was happier, teasing in friendship and easy banter on a long walk were all very much a part of Iolaus' persona. Not that he was completely silent now; it was simply that he was never silent before that made the long periods without conversation now more pronounced, and that he seemed more comfortable keeping his thoughts to himself than sharing every one of them. There were times when Hercules felt alone, even with Iolaus beside him.

The days had been long, even with his family responsibilities, after Iolaus left. No one to go to the tavern with and laugh about crops and kids. No one to take off with for a weekend of hunting and fishing to fill the family's pantries. And no one to tell the troubles to that Deineira didn't need to know about. All in all, Iolaus' time in the East had seemed an eternity to Hercules. He wondered what it was like for Iolaus.

That night as the two men settled in once again for sleep, Hercules cast his eyes on Iolaus. He stared at the long lashes hiding the closed eyes. He but could see from the movement beneath the lids that Iolaus was not asleep. The crickets chirped softly and as Hercules looked up he saw the zigzag flight of a bat. The smell of night blooming jasmine wafted on the air, still humid, but less so that last night.

"Tell me more about Chin," Hercules urged.

Iolaus didn't open his eyes, but his chest rose and fell with a sigh.

"Another bed time story?"

"Umm," Hercules murmured. "Tell me about the women."

Iolaus rolled on his side and stared at Hercules. "You're kidding right?"

"No." Hercules answered a little puzzled.

"You want to know about women? I thought we had this discussion when you hit puberty," Iolaus teased, watching a small grin form on Hercules' lips.

"Well, only if you want to talk about that. But I meant mostly the people. I knew you'd have more experience observing the women though."

Iolaus stared across at Hercules curiously for a moment then flopped back in the cool matted grass, resting his head in his hands.

"The women bathe the men there," was his first statement.

Hercules raised an eyebrow, but remained silent.

"When I first arrived I was certainly dirty. Pretty rank actually. The people there are very clean, their skin is soft and glowing, a golden color. They dress in bright colors and wear a material so soft it flows like delicate cool water against the body. They call it silk and spin it from the thin fibers a tiny worm makes."

"That's what you brought Mom?"

"Yes." Iolaus paused.

Hercules stared across the brief space between them, and though at times it felt like a huge gulf, tonight he felt as if the tide within was ebbing, little by little, still large, but in a while, maybe able to be forded.

"In most of Chin, there were only small villages of working people, almost as dirty as I was and actually quite hospitable. They allowed me to stay on their land and sometimes in their homes. They tried to teach me the language. A lot of my journey took me through these remote territories, and by the time I was closer to civilization I could speak the language and knew the customs of the farmers pretty well. But when I reached the big city things were a lot different."

Iolaus shifted. He sat up and tossed off his vest, turning to sit cross legged in front of Hercules.

Even in the dark Hercules could see Iolaus staring at him assessingly. The breeze ruffled his hair, causing it to brush loosely against his shoulders, rising and falling like the hypnotic cadence of his speech.

"By the time I'd arrived in the city I'd picked up enough of their language to make my needs known. I went to a large Inn there and requested a room with a bath. The old man who I'd spoken with nodded knowingly and told me 'bath first'.

I followed him. His head was bowed and he walked with the short shuffling steps that would soon grow so familiar. I followed him through the halls; the walls decorated with ornate paintings of dragons and mountains and bent peasants in shallow straw caps like coned dishes. The passage sloped downward, became cooler and darker the further we walked until finally we were in a sort of grotto."

Hercules sat across from Iolaus, staring in rapt attention. Iolaus' legs were crossed, hands resting on his knees with palms up like the fat god that adorned the silken cloth Iolaus had brought to Alcemene.

Iolaus stared across at Hercules. He could see the big man's wonder and maybe even awe at the story he told, and it surprised him. What was now simply the past to him, was the unknown to Hercules.

Iolaus continued, his voice low, soft and tinged with sorrow, as if just the thought of this journey caused pain to him.

"The grotto was lit by candles and in some spots there were small flat dishes filed with fragrant oils that burned, giving off both light and a beautiful scent. The walls were stone, into which were carved figures of people and animals that stood out in the light and rose and fell with the flickering of the flames, making them seem alive. There were statues made from a gorgeous green rock the Chin call Jade that they carve much as we do marble. And there were women."

Hercules' eyes opened wide and Iolaus saw an eyebrow rise, but his friend waited silently for the story to continue.

"There were men too, but only a few. The men sat in the pool of water and the women cared for them. I watched as they scrubbed the men clean, but before I could see the whole ritual, the elderly innkeeper beckoned for a lovely young woman.

She came quickly, tiny feet scurrying across the cool slippery rock as if it was nothing more than a meadow. They spoke a few words which I didn't catch and the young woman nodded. The old man turned his back and left as the girl came to me.

She was strikingly beautiful, but most of the Chin women are. She was tiny, shorter than I was by quite a bit. Her bones were fine and small, and hands like a child. Her skin was golden and looked soft, her eyes the darkest brown and almond shaped, with a slight upward slant. Her nose was small and delicately placed and her cheeks were high boned. Her lips were painted a ruby color and her hair was black as a starless night and tumbled long and straight down her back like so many strands of silk. I was so struck by her that I almost didn't realize that she was taking off my vest!"

"She didn't..." Hercules spoke softly.

"Yes," Iolaus answered. "All of it"

Hercules eyebrows shot up.

"And then she led me into the water of the grotto. It was warm, as if fed by a hot spring, and bubbly. The girl stayed in the water with me and used a strange rough piece of vegetation to massage my skin. At first it was uncomfortable, but as I relaxed it seemed to smooth out the tightness in my muscles." Iolaus rolled his shoulders.

"Was she naked too?" Hercules had to ask.

Iolaus shot him a look of surprise. "Of course! Who goes into the water dressed?"

"Weren't you uncomfortable?"

Iolaus shrugged. "She's not the first naked lady I've ever seen Herc."

"True but."

Iolaus cut him off. "That's the way it is in Chin. The women take care of the men. Every need."

Hercules sat in silence and Iolaus frowned.

"What?"

"Nothing," Hercules answered, but the question was in voice unspoken.

"No not that!" Iolaus responded with disdain. "Although she would have had I asked, I suppose. But it was too soon after." His voice trailed off.

Hercules saw Iolaus' shoulders sag and his chin drop. "I'm sorry," he spoke softly. "I shouldn't have. Please continue."

Iolaus picked up a stick and held it carefully, drawing circles in the dirt. "She used oils on my body and hair that made them soft and shiny. She loosened every muscle in my body. When she was done she dried me and wrapped me in a towel."

"Was it nice?" Hercules questioned as he thought of Deineira who sometimes helped him get washed, but usually culminated it in more than Iolaus had experienced.

Iolaus sat silently for a minute, not looking at Hercules. The circles he drew grew smaller and tighter until they were nothing more than a small point of pressure and the stick snapped.

"Yes, in a way," Iolaus admitted. "It was relaxing and it was arousing and it made me ashamed." Iolaus stared down at the broken stick, and then tossed it vehemently into the fire.

"I'm tired, Hercules," he declared. He flopped down on his back and threw an arm over his eyes.

Hercules sat stunned. A bedtime tale had turned into a disaster. Iolaus had closed up, cutting the story short. He stared at his friend seeing the unspoken pain in the stiffness of his posture, in the way he lay with out any movement at all. Hercules watched Iolaus' tight breaths, the weathered lines etched more severely around his mouth and saw the depth of the pain Iolaus carried with him.

Hercules tried not to sigh as he lay back against the matted grass and stared up at the sky.

It seemed that he would take one step forward and two steps back with Iolaus. What had been dealt with in Chin was not completely gone. How could it be? Here in Greece stood an empty house and grave stones and a buddy that didn't travel enough. The people of Thebes would offer sympathy, which Iolaus would wave away. But in the quiet darkness of every night Ania and the boy were still with him, and yet he was alone.

Hercules rolled over so he could keep watch over Iolaus, in case he needed him. Pretending to sleep, he wondered if perhaps tomorrow he could take two steps forward and one step back.

**

Iolaus dreamed of the land of Chin, of the wisdom of the Monk with whom he took refuge. He tossed in the grass, kicking up seeds and when the dew fell soft and still in the early morning Iolaus woke to find himself coated like a bread roll with dusty powder and seeds.

He sat up and stared across at the eastern horizon thinking about all the mornings he spent traveling to that distant sun, yet never reaching it. He'd seen many wonders, learned a number of languages, tasted more foods than Hercules would ever be able to imagine. He'd learned the wonders of massage, of pressure points, of yin and yang and energy centers and fighting techniques that would make him Hercules' equal in many ways. He had found a good measure of peace there, learned how strong he really was and before returning to Greece he thought he'd found his center.

Lately that center was off kilter and Iolaus wondered why. He bowed his head, crossed his legs and began to meditate as the sun rose, washing him in pure colors of blue, red orange and the beginning of yellow. His breath came soft and slow and Iolaus emptied himself of all thoughts, of feelings, letting the warmth of the rising sun fill him with relaxation. He searched deep inside his mind, seeking his chi to see what the problem was, and a small voice spoke softly.

"There is one you have not yet forgiven."

Iolaus was jolted out of his meditation by the soft questioning of his friend.

"Iolaus?"

Iolaus sighed. So Hercules had caught him meditating. In Greece, great warriors didn't meditate, they caroused, psyched themselves up, planned and whooped and hollered. His meditation had always been private, and he'd taken a chance today.

Iolaus opened his eyes and stretched.

"You look like- - -you had a- - -rough night," Hercules spoke hesitantly, not sure what Iolaus was doing. His usually energetic friend was rarely still, and Hercules was disconcerted at awakening to see him sitting like an eastern statue, even his chest still.

Iolaus sighed. He hated when Hercules was at a loss for words.

"It's called meditation," he said softly as he opened his eyes and turned his face to Hercules, assessing the confusion on his buddy's face.

Hercules nodded wordlessly, lips tight, not quite sure what Iolaus was talking about. He tried not to look worried, but he truly was finding it tough to understand the Iolaus who had returned from the East so recently. Things were definitely not the same. Not that he expected them to be, but the difference was so pronounced that Hercules found himself wondering whether or not Iolaus was ready for Greece.

Iolaus stared across at Hercules and wondered whether Greece was ready for the new Iolaus.

**

It was their last night, the hunting was done and the meat would spoil if they didn't head home with it. Still, Hercules hesitated to rush straight back his family. He and Iolaus hadn't been out like this since, well, long before Iolaus' son died. Then with the trip to the east taking so long, Hercules had just resumed his life without Iolaus. And a hole had formed in his heart, one that neither Deineira nor the children could mend.

Iolaus padded around at the perimeter of the campfire like a dog settling in for the night, tamping down the grass and kicking any rocks he saw away. Hercules sat on a log watching him and remembering all the times when they were kids that he teased Iolaus about the way he followed a set routine for bedtime. Some things never changed.

"So did you do that in the East?"

"Ha ha!" Iolaus shot Hercules a knowing grin and flopped down heavily. He lay back, placing his hands beneath his head and stared skyward, as if following yet another familiar pattern, then turned his face to Hercules.

"So are you looking for yet another bedtime story?"

Hercules thought he saw a grin on Iolaus' face as the waning flames flickered lower, casting tiny fingers of light their way with the effort of a hand sinking into quicksand.

"If you're up to it."

Iolaus heard the challenge in his friend's voice. "I've always been able to talk a good story," he retorted.

"A true story tonight," Hercules urged quietly, and met his friend's eyes full on.

"Are you tired?"

"No."

Iolaus stared across at Hercules, taking in the familiar features, the soft brown hair and clear blue eyes, the lines around his mouth. He studied the set of Hercules' jaw and the easy way he leaned forward. But he also saw the bunching of the muscles around his shoulders and the tightness of his neck, and realized that this story meant something more than just banter.

Iolaus raised a hand to his mouth. What to tell, what to tell? The last two nights Hercules had made requests, but tonight he sat expectantly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

In the distance an owl hooted a lonely refrain and a breeze ruffled through the leaves in the trees above. Iolaus wondered if the mice were still when under the owl's scrutiny, or if they simply slipped under the cover of the forest floor, going wherever they wanted. Listening, he could hear no flap of wings, no pouncing of talons. The owl was warning, and waiting in patience. Perhaps he'd already eaten his fill of mice this fine moonlit night.

Iolaus returned Hercules' stare. "Any requests?"

"Nope."

Iolaus stared assessingly across at Hercules.

"Okay."

I'm no mouse, Iolaus thought, and I will NOT hide. He stared across at Hercules and started without hesitation.

"After the first few days in the great city, I left to see what else was in Chin. All the while that I was staying in the Inn I could see a beautiful mountain, tall and gray on the horizon further east. I'd look at the snow capped peak and wonder if I could reach it, and if I'd see the whole of Chin from its top. I wondered if there was even farther east, and if I saw the end of the world, would I travel there?"

Iolaus rolled back. The owl had stopped hooting. Hercules sat silently.

"But when I really looked at the mountain, I saw that there was a clearing near the top, and a spot that could be a building. I was intrigued. At night I dreamed that I was where the air was pure and peace surrounded me, Trees and animals, birds singing and insects buzzing. I decided to leave the noise of the city and keep traveling even further east, to the top of the mountain if necessary.

So in the morning I took my pack with the few things I had left and headed to the mountain. There was small and rambling path that led out of town and in the general direction of the peak. It twisted and turned through the fields and alongside rice paddies, slithering along like a snake in a hurry. The sun was high and I was sweating by the time I reached the foot of the mountain. How I wished I had one of those straw hats!

Up the mountain I went. I tell ya Herc, the mountain goats had nothing on me that day. What looked like a gentle slope from the Inn turned out to be a very sharp uphill climb. There were areas of sheer rock, not sharp and jagged, worse. These were worn smooth with age and as slippery as creek stones. The going was slow when I hit these patches, but thankfully I was rewarded with large patches of cool tree capped travel. And steep though it was, I made steady progress."

Iolaus paused, feeling with his mind the smoothness of the rock, so beautiful yet so treacherous. The sun had glinted off it, making it shine and sparkle, yet blinded him, making getting a foothold difficult. Some experiences didn't lend themselves easily to words, but Iolaus could feel Hercules patience as he waited for the story to continue. Still Iolaus saw the small movement of Hercules' foot as he leaned forward wanting to hear more.

Iolaus sighed and turned on his side, propping himself up on a bent arm.

"Night fell before I reached the open area near the top of the mountain, so I set camp on the side of the mountain. I could hear a stream falling quickly down the sharp slope, run off from the melting snow cap. I bathed there, washing off my sweat in the cool pure water, drinking long and thankfully, filling my stomach with water, as I had no food, and it was too dark to hunt.

And I slept like a gift from Morpheus! The stars were different, the tree leaves and plants smelled sweeter than those of Greece, but the sound of the crickets chirping was the same great melody the world over. It was then that I realized that some things were the same anywhere. I pictured you sitting on your porch with Deineira listening to the crickets in Thebes echo the same songs as the crickets in the land of Chin."

Iolaus swallowed hard. This was something he hadn't let himself think about at all since it happened. It had been the first time he felt reconnected with his homeland, with his best friend. And it had stabbed him right through the heart to think of the huge separation between them. Iolaus had never left Hercules' side. It had always been Hercules who left on a journey alone. And Iolaus had waited faithfully for his return. But this journey had been different.

Iolaus felt a lump in his throat. He turned away from Hercules with a sudden movement and watched the flames from the campfire flicker out, the embers still glowing in the light breeze of the night, not wanting Hercules to see his pain.

"Iolaus?" Hercules questioned.

Iolaus could hear the uncertainty in his best friend's voice, the same as when he told Hercules that he was going east.

"I think I'm done for tonight," he responded simply, turning fully away.

"Iolaus!" Hercules was perturbed. 'I was really into this! Can't you please continue?" He could see from Iolaus' posture that the smaller man was struggling with something, and judging from his last statement, Hercules had a clue what it was.

He bit his lip. Tonight was their last night alone and the thought stabbed at Hercules. Tomorrow he'd be sitting on the porch with Deineira, and Iolaus would be gods knew where. Maybe he'd stay in Thebes, or maybe he'd simply leave again. And Hercules would be left behind to worry about Iolaus.

"Iolaus," Hercules tried again. "Please continue. I'll never sleep if you leave things like this."

Iolaus sighed, wrestling with the decision of continuing into painful territory or simply retreating. It would be so easy to simply turn his back on Hercules and close his eyes, but the warrior in him knew that retreat was often failure. Skorous' lessons had imbedded themselves more deeply into Iolaus than he wanted to admit. He turned back over, facing Hercules.

"I'd be more comfortable if you'd stop staring at me." He patted the ground next to himself. "Lie down."

Hercules scooted wordlessly over next to Iolaus, and lay on his back, shoulders touching Iolaus', feeling the connection as he stared up into the clear night sky. The darkness seemed to go on forever, but Hercules knew it would be washed away by the rising tide of dawn.

Iolaus lay silent and still, eyes on the stars that grounded him, took two deep and calming breaths. He let himself fall back to the night on the mountain of Chin, to a sound sleep on a sharp slope and morning rising stiff with cold.

"The sun wasn't even over the horizon when I woke," he spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper. "There was simply a lightening of the blackness, a shading of blue, and then purple before the first red light claimed the sky. There was mist so heavy that it covered me like a blanket, and my clothing was wet with dew. The only dry spot was under me, and though my mind urged me onward, my body cried out to stay on the warm spot I had created through the cool of the night.

My stomach growled in protest, and I'll admit, that if there had been a rabbit or a quail, it wouldn't have lasted to eat its own breakfast. But I was alone and the stillness of the mountain was complete. No crickets chirping as morning shifted out of its rest. No birds hunting, not even the ruffling of leaves. The air was still and heavy with moisture, waiting for the sun to relieve it of its burden.

Around me the clearing was bordered with scrub trees, and the path ever upward, beckoned. Breakfast could wait. I stood, shivering as the cool breeze wrapped itself in wet embrace against my own damp skin. Clouds raced above, pushed forward by forces I couldn't see or even truly understand. I watched as they rose against the mountain slope, enveloping the peak, and turned my face eastward knowing that I had to follow them and journey up the mountain to find where this path in my life was heading."

Hercules lay softly against Iolaus' side, watching the clouds race across the darkness like phantoms, thin and wispy, trailing threads of themselves which broke off and scattered. He wondered if the clouds would simply disappear when enough of the tendrils had fallen away or if somehow they would reform, the same, but subtlety different.

Iolaus' voice was hypnotic, soothing, and drew Hercules into the story so easily the big man felt as if he was on the mountain of Chin himself, surrounded by strange trees and vegetation. The warm night air was transformed into the cool wetness of the eastern mountain and the night fell away to an eastern dawn.

"I honestly can't tell you what it was that pushed me up the sharp slope, but I truly felt impelled. The rocks were slippery from the night moisture and the patches of moss on them made getting a good grasp difficult. I pressed on inspite of the poor footing and few hand holds, and was eventually rewarded with a small trail, hardly more than a goat path actually, but I knew it indicated easier going. So of course I followed it.

"The path wasn't nearly as long or torturous as I expected. It twisted and turned around the mountain as the peak became closer. I was actually puffing a bit and drawing harder for breath as I pushed upward, but the reward was well worth it. I came upon the clearing and got my first glimpse of the structure that I'd seen from the Inn.

What looked merely interesting from afar was breathtaking from up close. It was more than just a simple building; it was the most magnificent temple I had ever seen. It was low, squat and made from the stone of the mountain, seeming to rise up from the ground on which it stood, one with the mountain. The roof was made of tiles of green jade, intricately carved and delicately laid edge to edge so that it looked more like a green wave of ocean rather than the humble roof of a building. The whole structure seemed to flow from the earth and up to the sky, its small spires the anchors holding it between the two.

Around the perimeter were brick tiles, ochre, and a labyrinthine path leading around the whole temple and ending at the entrance, two doors of the brightest red, decorated with golden dragons writhing in fury as they defended the temple.

At the open door stood a monk, old and wizened with a beard long and straight. He was stooped, but stood erect and studious as he caught sight of me. He stared for a moment then turned, his long braid of glistening ebony swinging like the thick rope he reached for. As he pulled the thick cording a bell tolled, its tone deep and mournful. From the gaping maw of the double doors a small army dressed in the same silken robes as he formed in a tight semicircle, staring out at me, the bedraggled traveler who stood curiously at the beginning of the ochre path.

The bell ringer, the oldest of the monks, gave me a slow and solemn nod, meeting my eyes, then looking down at the path.

In the still coolness of the mountain air, my mind was clear and thoughts emptied. I knew what I was to do, and slowly, contemplatively began the slow journey around the labyrinth. One step at a time, and a pause on the interspersed tiles of jade, I proceeded around the temple and snaked my knotted way along the path more twisted than the weaving of the fates."

Iolaus paused and Hercules turned his head, gazing on the face of his friend. "How long did it take?" he asked, and then added "and what did you do on the jade tiles?"

Iolaus stared up at the stars, wanting to meet Hercules stare, but afraid that his feelings would stand out too starkly, even under the spare light of the moon. He kicked his foot across Hercules' leg to stay connected; let his friend know he heard.

Iolaus sighed and finally turned his face to his friend's. In truth, he had thought of Hercules, of Alcemene and his family. But that was something he didn't yet want to admit, so he simply continued.

"It took until the sun was past zenith and arcing downwards to make it to the door, and all the while the monks stood still and watched. On every jade tile I stood for a moment and let my mind wander and think about what exactly I was doing in the land of Chin. As the sun grew higher, even in the cool air, I began to sweat. The rivulets flowed down through the dusting of dirt I wore like last night's pajamas, leaving muddy tattoos across my exposed skin. My hair soon hung limply and by the time I reached the big red doors I was a sight for sore eyes.

The monk at the door simply nodded, met my eyes and with a raised eyebrow and small nod of satisfaction, turned, walking deep into the temple. I followed gratefully, letting the cool of the dark stone interior soothe me.

Inside, the temple was far simpler, nothing more than stone walls and wide rooms, but in the center was a small garden, with sand and stones and a fountain of trickling water. It was open to the sun, which angled in softly. Fingers of light stroked the soft sand and the musical tinkling of the falling water mingled with the sweet scent of jasmine. I wanted to stop right there, set camp and fall asleep, but the monk turned, catching my eyes and beckoned with his head so I moved instead deeper into the dark corridor, following his silent and graceful footsteps.

He gestured finally at an open door which lead to a small cubicle, stocked with an urn of water and a mat on the floor. I entered gratefully and when I turned to thank him he was gone. I'd never heard his step away for the movement of the air. His step thus far had been slow, but this time he had been so quick it was as if he'd simply faded away."

Iolaus stopped, remembering the loneliness he'd felt in the small cubicle, lying on a bamboo mat on a hard packed dirt floor. The walls were unadorned and the only light filtered in through the small door and from so far away it was merely a trickle.

Hercules was aware of the sudden stiffening of Iolaus' body next to him. The momentary silence fell across them like a shroud and its solid embrace wrapped them both in melancholy.

Hercules was not ready to let Iolaus stop.

"What did you learn at the temple?" He questioned as he turned on his side and placed a hand reassuringly on his friend's shoulder.

Iolaus turned his face to Hercules, staring into the solemn features, as familiar and comforting as a favorite scroll. The night air was warm, and carried with it the musty scent of the dead boar, which had never made it home.

"Lots of things," Iolaus finally answered. He held Hercules' stare. "The monks had much to share and the elderly man who had waved me in to the temple grounds became my teacher. I learned the physical aspects of the monks' training, the fighting, and the mental disciplines. I learned to slow my heart down so I didn't have to breathe underwater, and to become one with my environment."

Iolaus hesitated, wondering what Hercules would think of his next remarks. "They taught me mental strength, the power of concentration. I learned how to empty myself of pain through meditation and then center myself. The master called it living through the soul." Iolaus grew quiet and let his eyes drop, not willing to see if Hercules was bewildered or understanding.

Iolaus thought back to the agony of those months, to the wrenching away of the pain that had dug it deep roots in his heart as he struggled to come to grips with the dish the Fates had handed him. In the end he'd found that his center was his family, and his family was even bigger than just Ania and his son. He lifted his eyes to the man who was family from the beginning.

Iolaus cleared his throat as if the act would erase his momentary loss of composure. He cleared his throat and continued.

"I learned to master the language of the people of Chin."

Hercules smiled, unable to keep the wonder out of his eyes. His friend had certainly changed. He sounded as if he could rival a god with his new abilities.

"Speak to me in Chin," Hercules urged, wanting to help Iolaus over his awkward moment.

Iolaus shot him a quirky half grin. "What do you want me to say?"

"Anything."

Iolaus thought for a minute before he began. Then, as he gazed at Hercules' expression of wonder, he spoke in the soft sing song voice of the Chin. His words rose and fell like a brook over a long distance, trickling through fallen trees, racing and raging over boulders, slipping rhythmically across small stones and flowing softly through the still straight passes. The words tumbled playfully along like children tussling until breathlessly they fell away and Iolaus lay silent, staring into Hercules eyes.

"That was beautiful," Hercules spoke in quiet awe. He stared across at his friend, astounded. "What did you say?"

Iolaus turned his head, his eyes locking on to Hercules' with an intensity and fire that the bigger man hadn't seen in a long time.

Hercules felt Iolaus' hand grip his shoulder first firmly, then release and rest softly against his skin.

"I said that the power to heal comes only through forgiveness of the self, and that a person's center is simply what he holds dear in his heart. For me that is family, and you are the family I used to heal my broken spirit. I forgive you for leaving me behind for so long on the labors and I hope you can forgive me too, for leaving you behind for just as long during my trip to Chin."

Iolaus held his breath as he kept his eyes on Hercules, watching the softening of his friend's face, the surprise taking hold, and the realization that Iolaus needed something from him far deeper than a simple 'welcome home'. Hercules' throat tightened and released as he tried to swallow his emotions, and Iolaus held his breath as he waited to see how his friend would respond.

Hercules saw the intensity in Iolaus' eyes, the set of his jaw. The morning's encounter with a silently posed Iolaus made sense now. He had been finding his missing center. Hercules had never thought that there was anything to forgive. He'd missed Iolaus keenly, worried endlessly about him, but never resented his absence. Iolaus knew what he had needed, even if he hadn't realized it at the time. And Hercules knew what his friend needed now.

He wrapped his arms around Iolaus and hugged him tight, feeling Iolaus' surprise and then slowly, the tightening of his muscles relax.

"There's nothing to forgive. There never was," he whispered.

He felt Iolaus nod his head. The woods were alive with sounds. The owl had stopped its hooting and the rodent feet scurried. Leaves brushed lovingly together, softly caressing and from deeper in the woods, Hercules thought he could hear the wary step of a deer.

A buck, Iolaus thought to himself, and realized that he finally felt truly alive. "I found the missing piece," he whispered, not caring if Hercules heard. "It's you."

fini