Quick and Dirty
By Sandman


I stand in open mouthed horror as I watch the arrow pierce the muscular abdomen of my lover. The dull thwack sounds louder than a clap of thunder as it enters the area just below his ribs, imbedding deeply through the tanned skin, glistening with a fine coat of sweat. My hand shot to my mouth as I gasp in fear watching Hercules drop to his knees, holding the offending arrow steady in his huge fist.

"Iolaus!" he manages to groan, toppling backward like a huge tree, fallen by a woodsman's axe.

"Herc!" I can't believe what I'm seeing. For one of the few times in my life I'm actually afraid. This arrow was from Hera's archer and crafted by Hephestus and I'm afraid it could be the instrument of Herc's death. I rush over to him, pulling him into my quaking arms as Hera's archer shimmers into nothingness, her work complete. The fact that she is so sure of his death leaves me empty.

His skin is cold in my arms, the sweat rolling like a waterfall over his body. I smell the musty odor of perspiration, the metallic scent of blood, Herc's blood. I stare alternately at the wound and his face, contorted into a mask of pain unlike any I've ever seen on him before. The world seems to slow as I watch his agony. I wish it was me.

"Pull the arrow out," he speaks through gritted teeth. His eyes are shut, lips a hard slash against the strong jaw. Every muscle in his body feels as tight as a bow string. He is stiff and wooden in my arms. Sensing my hesitation he summons the energy to speak again.

"Pull it out!"

"Herc!" My voice is pleading. I know the pain will only be amplified when the head of the arrow is forced back against a path it wasn't meant to take a second time. He could bleed to death on its removal. The injury will worsen. I want to get him to a healer, but I know his tone of voice. He will brook no argument.

"Hold still," I command in a voice which is simply holding back tears. He lets go of the arrow, trusting me to hold it steady as I pull. "It's going to hurt," I speak softly, my eyes tearing.

"Pull it out Iolaus!" he commands. He is almost too wet to hold.

I do so, feeling him fall limp in my arms as the broad end of the arrowhead breeches his skin. "Not dead," I think pulling him close, hoping beyond hope. I press his chest against mine, his blood connecting us. His heart still beats! I feel it! Great Zeus, so many thanks I offer.

He's heavy in my arms and I strain to lift him, suddenly finding strength I didn't realize that I had. He is over my shoulder like a bent sack, his blood dripping down my back. The muscles in my legs quiver as I stand straight, hefting Herc, bringing him into Alcmene's home.

I lay him gently on her bed. I wish she was here, but Demetrius has taken her, setting this scenario into motion. Alcmene would know what to do. I offer a silent prayer to Aesclepius and set to work.

I know where Alcmene keeps her healing herbs. I should, she's used them on me enough times. Picking up the packets I sniff them. I don't know their names but I surely know their smell. This one is used to fight infection, this one speeds healing. I take these two packets and bring them to Herc's bedside.

I can't lose him. I love him like no other. He is better than a brother to me, a friend, a mentor and my only lover in spite of what others may think. Not even Alcmene knows this. My hands are shaking as I take my knife and smooth the dirty edges of the wound. I must do this while he is out. I wash his skin and pack the herbs firmly into the depths of the stab. I can't let him die.

I rip the clean cloth covering Alcmene's table in to strips and bind Herc's wounds with them. I wrap as tightly as I can, he needs pressure to stop the bleeding. He wakens momentarily as I press hard against the bleeding wound.

"Iolaus stop. That hurts." The words are whispered through his parched lips and he thankfully falls back into the realm of Morpheus. My eyes glisten with tears. I don't ever want to hurt this man, but this is what I must do now if I want to give him a chance to live.

My arms ache as I exert pressure against his hard body for long minutes, intermittently checking to see whether the bleeding has stopped. When I am satisfied that it has, I fetch cool water and wipe away the sweat.

The water cools the heat of his torture, washes away the salty sweat. I have washed his magnificent body many times (as he has done mine) but never under such dire circumstances. I massage the stiff muscles, work the clenched fingers and pray to any god who will hear me to spare his life.

Herc awakens after only a short time. That he is in agony is evident, but he tries to get up anyway. I place a hand against the light hair of his chest, afraid he'll simply jump up and bolt.

"Need to find mother!" He is sweating again, muscles taut and standing out against his glistening skin.

"Hercules, you're in no shape." I try to reason.

It falls on deaf ears. "Don't try to stop me Iolaus," he warns. Suddenly his strength is too much for me. He is up, staggering for the door and I rush for

"Herc." the pain in my voice is evident and he turns softening eyes to me.

"Iolaus, this is my family, I have to go." He claps a hand on my shoulder.

My hurt shows in my eyes. I'm family too, or at least I thought I was. "I'm going with you."

"Good. I couldn't do it without you." He nods his assent and I rush outside, find a thick stick for Herc to lean on, not an easy task as he's a big man and no small branch will do. I grab my sword and knife. I think I will be his protector and his tracker. I will get him to Alcmene. She is almost as much my mother as his.


______________________________________


The trip seems to take forever. Herc doesn't want to stop for nightfall, but he can barely walk. He leans heavily on me, even so he is staggering. Thank the gods he trusts me, because I finally convince him that we should stop, eat the provisions I took from Alcmene's home and rest briefly. No fire tonight. I think we may be close to Demetrius and the archers and don't want to alert them. I promise him that I will wake him well before dawn and will track on my hands and knees if necessary. We will get his mother back.

It is cold and dark when we finally settle down. Herc has a fever. His skin is hot and he is shivering uncontrollably. I make him lie still as I unbandage his wound.not festering but not healing as quickly as one would expect a half god should, perhaps because this was Hephestus' arrow. He is quiet, biting his lower lip as I pull the herbs out of his wound and repack it. I know how much this hurts because I have had this done too many times. I gently rewrap the wound.

"Roll over!" I command. "I'll give your sore muscles a massage. You'll need to be loose if we're only resting for a few hours."

Herc complies and I begin the job I love the most. I feel every contour of his body, every muscle, every bone, all of his smooth skin and soft hair. My hands are small and agile, and if truth be told, I'm glad of this. I'm strong too, and able to do so much more than a bigger man could. My hands fit into small crevices, massage tiny tight muscles. He is clay beneath my hands and I am the potter, melting away his pain and tension.

When he is fully relaxed I curl up next to him. He's on his back and I slip an arm around his tight belly. He puts an arm out and I rest my head on it snuggling closer to him. I love his scent, the feel of his skin, muscle and lightly furred chest. He pulls me closer.

"I love you Iolaus," he whispers as his eyelids droop. He turns his head, placing a kiss in my tossled curls. I feel his breath, ragged and hard with pain as he falls asleep this way. I kiss his shoulder and feel the heat there. I spoon up against him. I won't sleep tonight. I need to keep watch over him, and I promised an early start.

The night is long as I lay next to Herc, feeling his fevered shivering, listening to his moans. I think with sorrow about Alcmene and wonder how she is doing, if she is even still alive. She must be in bad shape, having seen Hercules shot and fall as if dead. Her pain may be greater even than Hercules. I know I will need to be the one to track her. Herc will want to do everything himself, and maybe in the best of health he could, but not now. He needs my help more than he wants to admit. For the second time today I pray to any god that hears to help Herc heal, get him strong for the fight.

We reach Echidna's lair well before dawn. Herc is trying to make me think he feels better today. I think this act is to convince himself and possibly his mother, but I've seen him stumble and falter as we climbed the hill to get here. The blood stain on his shirt is growing and I'm concerned, no, desperately afraid he's made his injury worse. But Herc, being Herc, pretends that everything is fine and that he is in charge.

We make our plans in secretive whispers. His face is so close to mine I can see the fine wrinkles etches deeper than ever into the skin around his eyes, at the corners of his mouth. I can smell the scent of his sweat and the metallic odor of fresh blood. I want to drop my knife and draw him closer, to put my arms around him, tugging him to my chest and run my hands through his hair. I want to comfort him, love him, heal him and take on all his burdens for him. I won't though. Herc needs to think he's doing most of this himself. He has this self image thing that's crippling.

Instead I crouch at his side, scheming and planning. I see him sway and grip his shoulder. I grit my teeth not to say anything. We've already had words once. He didn't want me to come.

"This is MY fight!" he growled.

Ouch. That hurt, but I know he's trying to protect me. If something happens to him, as well it may in his condition, I will be fair prey to both the archers and Echidna. There is only one way to convince him.

"This is about family to me too." Herc pauses and understands. Our bonds are too deep for us to be separate now. I would gladly die at his side, or even for him. I've seen too much death. I don't want to be the survivor again. I wished I was dead after Anya and my son died. I truly couldn't survive without Herc.

"The feeling's mutual," was all he said, but the implication was there. We're not public about our feelings, although I guess if you look close enough anyone could see it. It's a guy thing I guess.

Herc goes to cut the archers horses loose, while I get myself strategically positioned to reach their bows. I won't let them shoot Herc again. I reach the bows and when Herc shows himself he pretends to be in full health. He steps out so strongly it almost takes my breath away. At first threat I begin slicing bowstrings with the knife Herc and I forged. As I snap a string, an archer disappears in a shimmer of bronze like so many dinars falling to the earth, not even remotely what Herc's worth.

I work quickly, worried that the archers will see through his act, but I'm almost too late with the last bowstring. I see the archer who shot him reach for her sword to finish the job and Herc brings up his stick. Just in the nick of time I cut the string and the archer disappears with a growl.

"Get the arrows, Herc orders, going into commando mode as he turns to enter Echidna's lair. I wish I was going in at his side, but I know what I have to do.and what he has to do. Any show of hesitation or pain on his part will make him victim instead of victor.

I rush to collect the arrows. I need to be with Herc, and when I get inside the damp lair I see Herc fighting Demetrius with the stick using it like an Eastern Bo staff. I take up the fight and leave him with the monster, that's how we planned it. Demetrius is good. I get in a few staggering blows but in the end he catches me just right and I go down, hitting my head on the hard stone floor. I see stars and my breath catches in my chest. I've been knocked out by lesser blows, but today I fight mightily to hold myself together. I can't let Herc down, or Alcmene. She saved me more times than she knows when I was a kid. Her hayloft was my safety net when I thought Skorous would kill me.

I get up to my feet as quickly as I can, staggering. By this time Herc has been snatched by Echidna and Alcmene is free. At Herc's holler I take her to safety. Demetrius has made the fatal mistake of messing with Echidna and she has done my job for me. Demetrius is dead. I wonder briefly how Alcmene feels. She has seen her son and her lover killed in less than a day.

Herc uses the arrows to pin Echidna to the rock wall behind her. He's ready to finish her off when Alcmene intervenes.

"I know how she felt when her children died!" She clasps a hand to her chest. "We are not monsters!"

Her kindness and mercy touches me. I, too, know what it is like to lose a child, as does Herc. Her statement brings back the pain, the understanding. Herc wanted to kill Hera when she sent that fireball and killed his family and he still would if he could. There was nothing I could do for my wife and son. You can't take revenge on nature. Echidna is a monster, but maybe she doesn't deserve to die.

We leave Echidna sealed in her lair and take Demetrius's wagon home. Herc wants to drive, but his mother decides that I will drive the horses and she will tend to him in the back. I push the horses to run even though the road is rough, because I know that Herc needs to be home now. He's a demi god; he can handle a rough trip in the name of health.

After we reach Alcmene's house I manage to get Herc alone. Alcmene has gone to prepare a healing poultice and I get Herc to lie on the bed. He's weaker than I even guessed and lets down his guard. His body is slick with sweat and the bandage slips off like the fur on a skinned rabbit as I reach for it. I slip off his damp clothes, lay a sheet over him and get a basin of soapy water to clean him. All that dirt and sweat can't be good for his wound. Herc doesn't protest. I know he'd rather have me bathe him than his mom. She hasn't seen him naked since child hood. Poor her, I think. What a glorious body he has!

Herc lies back and lets me wash him. I take the soapy water and stroke it over him with a soft cloth. His body is hot and the water cools him. His eyes are closed, head arched back as I progress past his head and neck and down to his chest. I stroke lightly, knowing every inch of his bronzed skin. He reaches around to my neck and pulls me down to him.

His lips are hot, feverish as he presses them to mine firmly, tongue questing, probing my lips. I let him enter my mouth and am surprised at his ardor. Being a half god can be good I guess. I sure wouldn't feel too frisky in his condition. Behind me I hear a door open. Alcmene! Herc doesn't break the kiss, if anything he pulls me closer, kisses me more passionately. The door closes softly. Guess we don't have to worry about telling Alcmene about the relationship, Herc has just taken care of that.

His hands reach into my messy hair, fingers gripping the curls as if he's afraid to let go. I return his kiss then break away, kissing his chin, his neck his chest.

"Herc," I whisper against the soft fur of his chest. Don't die, I think but don't say. The words would catch in my throat.

"Iolaus," his voice is a soft growl. I won't, he assures me wordlessly, releasing my hair. I want to keep kissing him, but he needs to be cleaned, needs the wound packed. I won't leave his side until he's healed. Alcmene must now know this.

I continue washing. The soap smoothes over his broad chest, bubbles catching in the soft hair. I linger possessively over the nipples, wanting more, unsure how much he can take, or wants. Over the tight abs I stroke the soft cloth watching the water drip in rivulets across the ridges of sculpted muscles and down his sides. Then onto the thighs. I have avoided the arrow wound, knowing from experience that I will have to do that last. I want to get Herc relaxed first. This is no ordinary wound, from which a half god can spring right back. An arrow crafted by Hephestus leaves a serious wound, not one that Herc will recover from as easily or quickly as usual. He may hide his pain from others, but I know him too well, see his tension, the effort he is using to keep me from knowing how bad this actually is; there is nothing I don't know about Herc.

His legs are like tree trunks, heavy and corded. I stroke along the muscles feeling them soften, and then move on to massage his feet with the slippery cloth. He reaches for my shoulders, pulling me up some. I see his erection, tall and proud. Guess that'll have to wait for washing. I rewet the soapy cloth and place it over his wound, thinking a good soaking never hurt. I can distract him from the pain if he wants.

He takes my small hand in his large hand, raises it to his lips. I feel his heat, wonder how much is fever, how much is arousal. He takes my hand and ever so slowly runs it lightly down his chest, then his belly and places it on his engorged member. Forget the sheet, neither one of us could be bothered with it now. I'm aroused myself, but my concern is for Hercules. I don't want to cause him more pain. I look into his face, questioning him with my eyes.

Herc looks surprised. I'm usually a go for it kind of guy, take first, and ask questions later. This is different. We are in Alcmene's home and Herc is pretty badly injured.

"I won't yell," he promises.

I caress the heated member, first gently with tickling strokes of my fingers, rubbing my thumb across the blood red tip, sliding through the first pearly drops to appear there. The skin here is silken and soft, unlike any other part of Herc's body and even the slightest touch of my calloused fingers springs it to life. I wet my fingertips with his precum and feather them lightly down the shaft.

Herc moans and I look up to see if he's okay with this. His eyes are slits, mouth open slightly and head arched back. He raises his hips, pressing into my hand.

"Iolaus," he whispers. "Do it."

I feel his hands in my hair, fingers knotting. He pulls me into a kiss, heavy with passion, tongue moving with the agility and strength of the Bo stick today.

He moans and breaks away, pushing on my scalp, urging me downward. I slide my wet tongue down his dimpled chin, feeling the roughness of two days without a shave, stopping to bite his neck, sucking and kissing the spot until he is marked.

"Yes!" he groans.

I no longer care about whether or not Alcmene knows or hears us. I care only about healing him any way I can. I am so stiff you could use me for a tent pole and I know Hercules feels that way too. My hand reaches down around his heavy sack, a finger worrying at his tightness as I latch onto a bronze nipple.

Herc is writhing. I know I shouldn't make him wait, all this movement can't be good for his wound, but I need to make the most of this. We'll be here for days and privacy is hard to come by. Besides I'm not sure how Alcmene will react. Perhaps I will have to be chaste from now on.

I, too, feel urgency. My fear of losing him has driven me to tormented heights. I wonder if my cod piece will burst, but I want to pleasure him even more. I suck his nipple with tiny bites and gentle licks of my tongue, breathing heavily, all the while fondling him. When his moans grow louder I let my mouth slide down lower, away from the wound, down to his navel and slip my tongue into that. He gasps in surprise then pushes me further downward.

I can do nothing other than respond. I open my mouth, receiving his offering with reverence. That a half god could love a mortal still stuns me. Herc isn't like his father and I am no Ganymede. We have pledged to each other, and Herc is a man of his word.

I know what he needs, wants. I engulf him slowly, letting my teeth run lightly along his shaft, my tongue gently paving the way. He gasps slightly as I continue down without stopping, taking him all in. I feel his balls begin to gather and a twitch against the roof of my mouth. "Not yet," he whispers, and I slide my head slowly back up his shaft.

We've done this often enough to be acutely aware of how to pleasure each other. Herc is hurting and wants distraction from pain with pleasure. That, I can certainly give him. He's done this before, wanting me at the least expected time. I think that after a battle Herc is often at his horniest. Perhaps he wants his last conquest to be in love. Sometimes I have to marvel at his stamina.

I know how to handle this. I rise up, away from his glorious erection, remove the wash cloth, soak it with soapy water and squeeze the water into his wound, dropping the wet cloth back over the arrows mark. At the same time I stroke again along the length of his shaft, sliding my thumb over the slit.

"Iolaus!" he hisses between clenched teeth. His back arches up to me. In truth, I'm a bit afraid that this time I will hurt him, now that's a change as that's usually his line. I look at him questioningly, but he'll have none of it. He grabs me with a huge rough hand around my neck, pulls me up and presses his burning lips against mine once again.

Through the fervent press of his lips I can feel the soft velvet sensation of his tongue, probing for mine. I slip my body over his, my legs spread, straddling his pelvis. His cock is hard against mine. I can smell Alcmene's softly scented soap, the oils lingering on his skin. I feel like I'm going to let loose too quickly today.

I pull away from his embrace, leaving him gasping. "Quick and dirty or slow and steamy?" I ask, pressing myself against him.

I'd go for quick and dirty myself right now. Slow and steamy is better alone, and truth be told, I'm concerned about doing it here, with Alcmene near. But this is about Herc right now, not me, and I'll bend to his wishes.

"Quick and dirty," he says with a raised eyebrow, as if challenging me.

No need for that. I can do it any way, and he knows it, but truth be told, this is what I want now too.

I lean forward, taking his mouth hard, biting on his lower lip as I suck it in. I release it and probe the sweet depths of his mouth with my tongue, hard and questing. I press my lips almost too firmly against him, but Herc is tough.

I release his mouth, leaving him gasping and without giving him time to recover I plunder his neck, all the while grinding my leather encased and engorged cock hard against his. His lips are not the only things that are hot, I think lasciviously. He tips his head back in welcome to my teeth. I bite, suck, and mark him before I even think about the implications.

Herc is moaning softly now. One part of my brain tells me to stop and make sure he's okay, but the feral part keeps giving him what I think he really wants, what I want too. His cock is wet, slippery with precum and my own engorged shaft slides heavily along it.

Oh man! These pants are getting in my way! I reach to my buckles and practically rip my belts off, all the while latched on hard to Herc's nipple. I bite him, perhaps a little too hard, without thought to the wound on his side. I lose the codpiece and let my own cock meet his, skin to skin. Much better, although I rather be naked entirely. There is nothing more sensual than the feel of his body next to mine. He wants it quick and dirty though.

I press my thighs, still encased in the leather leggings against the outside of his, sliding up to his hips. Herc is biting his lip, trying desperately not to moan, although at this point I can't believe Alcmene would be clueless about what her son and I are doing. His eyes are glassy, half opened, and neck arched back, head driven hard into the pillow like a boulder in the earth.

I revel in the sight. He cannot know how afraid I was when I saw him with the arrow in his side, under the ribs, the look of agony like none I've ever seen on his face. It's me that's supposed to die, not him. I'm mortal. I want to show him how much I need him, want him.how important he is to me. I want to provide him with more pleasure than either a god or mortal could want. I want to raise him above Olympus and back to earth, at my side, in my mouth, my hands. I want him to know that there is no place on Olympus or earth where he belongs other than at my side.

I will love him and care for him forever.

I slide down his beautiful body, running my tongue along the smoothly defined muscles of his chest, his abdomen, nipping and licking. My cock is hard and his taste is salty, sweet, encompassing all my senses at once, threatening to engulf me. Quick and dirty. That's all I can handle right now. Did Herc know? Is he taking care of me or me of him?

I hunch over his pelvis. His cock is hard, rising strongly, erect and ready. The head is so crimson, sleek and shining with the pearlescent cum of his desire that it makes me want to take him all in, now. No hesitation.

I do, hard and fast, swallowing almost as quickly as his shaft hits my throat. I reach back, grabbing at his sack, sliding his balls through my soapy fingers. Herc is thrusting hard in my mouth. I press down to meet him, sucking hard as I pull away. I slide one wet finger back, seeking the tight entrance. I will send him to Elysium and pull him back with me.

Herc is writhing now under my ministrations. He is biting his lip so hard I can see a trickle of blood sliding down to his chin. I push my finger in deep and quick, stretching his tightness only enough to give me access to his sweet spot. Quick and dirty. I press in hard as I suck the whole of his length in again, hitting the sweet spot at the same time.

Now he can't hold back. I have all of him. His hands are tangled in my hair. His thrusting is strong and rhythmic and I match it with my mouth and finger.

"Iolaus!" he finally cries out, too loud.

I feel the heat of his release in my mouth, trickling down my throat. Sweet and salty, quick and dirty. He continues his rhythmic pulsing briefly and I hold him tightly in my mouth, swallowing his ambrosia. I hold him there until I feel him softening. His breathing is hard and ragged. His eyes are closed.

I rise up, letting him slip from my lips. I have to take care of myself now. I am so hard I hurt.

Herc likes watching me jerk off. The truth is, I know he used to pretend not to know that I was doing it right there beside him, back to back. But he knew. I could hear his breathing change, feel him snuggle closer. But that was before we were lovers. Now I do it just so he can enjoy it too.

I slide up on my knees so I am straddling him again. I reach to the cloth that has slipped off his wound, take it off the bed. Re wetting it, I slap it over the arrow's mark again. That spot's getting a good soaking today. I rise up, displaying my throbbing erection to Herc.

Herc's eyes are open now. His hands reach for my hips, sliding me up just a bit more so he has a better view. I reach for my cock, putting one hand around the shaft and letting the other slip around my sack, lifting it for display. I'm well endowed for a shorter man; the gods have been kind to me that way.

My shaft is thick and hard, purpling from the wait for release. Already the creamy white precum is leaking from the ruby head and I can feel the big veins that run along my length pulsing. I watch Herc's face as I stroke myself, roughly from base to tip, squeezing hard and massaging my balls at the same time.

"Herc," I groan. My hand is working faster. I can feel a gathering in my sack. My shaft feels huge, so ready, and so responsive. "Oh Herc, Herc, HERC!" Too loud, but it feels too good. Through fogged vision I see him reach for me. One hand goes to my waist to steady me, the other huge hand reaches around my own to join the stroking.

"Quick and dirty," I moan, squeezing harder and faster. "Herc!"

He barely has to touch me and I'm shot. I pulse in our hands, jetting hot streams across our gathered fists and onto Herc's belly. Herc keeps stroking with me until I let my balls drop, loosen my hand, and take his huge mitt into mine. I want to collapse onto him, as I would normally do, but not today. Today I lean weakly back, trying to catch my breath, and then place my hands on my thighs and lean carefully down to him.

"Did you like that?" I whisper as I press my lips against his, tasting his blood, licking him gently with my tongue. "Did I meet your challenge?"

"It was almost too quick," he whispers regretfully.

"Yeah, well It s not like the sun wasn't streaking across the sky for me either," I justify myself. "But your mom probably feels like an eternity has passed..you weren't exactly quiet." I take the wet cloth off his wound and wipe his chest and belly clean, then clean myself before tossing the rag into the basin of soapy water. I fasten my codpiece.

"Iolaus, she knows."

"No doubt after that." I place the sheet over his lower half, making the room appropriate for Alcmene to come pack Herc's wound.

"No Iolaus. I told her years ago about my feelings for you; she just didn't know I'd acted on them."

"Well that's reassuring." I'm a little unsettled and Herc can see that.

"Iolaus," he reaches for me. I lean unresisting into his arms. "I know my mother. She wants us to be happy."

I stare over at him with a sigh. Fine lines are etched around his tired eyes more deeply today, and his eyelids look heavy. Suddenly what anyone thinks is not important any more. I care only that he heals, that I can be by his side forever. "I'll get Alcmene," I say quietly.

"Iolaus," he grabs my hand as I stand to get her. "Thanks. For a few moments I felt nothing but your love."

I nod, choked up, and turn to the door.

Alcmene waits at the table, poultice mixed and bandages ready. She smiles at me with radiance that lights up the room. She stands, walks forward and envelopes me in an embrace that pushes away any lingering doubts I have about her reception of me.

"Iolaus," she whispers with tears of happiness in her eyes. "I'm so happy for you two." She reaches for my hand and together we walk into the bedroom, to Herc.

He's going to be fine. I know it. What Alcmene can't heal, I can. Herc knows it too. He smiles when he see us, closes his eyes and peace washes over his face.

The End