The Beauty of Gray

Author’s Note: Don’t own Herc and Iolaus. Just borrowing them for a little non-profit adventure since RenPic/Universal isn’t using them at the moment. Comments always welcome.

Hercules spared a glance behind him to check on his partner. They had gotten separated, which was never a good thing, but he reassured himself that Iolaus was holding his own against the three mercenaries that were attempting, and failing, to overpower him. The hunter ducked under a swinging mace as he simultaneously blocked a deadly sword thrust with his own blade and kicked out behind him to catch his third attacker with a hard boot to the groin. After that the demigod didn’t see, for his attentions were diverted by a new wave of men coming at him. Diving out of the way, Hercules rolled gracefully, snatching up a discarded spear as he sprang back up to his feet. He used the weapon as a staff, battering anyone that came within reach and sending most of his opponents sailing in elegant arcs to crash hard into the dirt, several feet away.

“You’re next, Anker,” the demigod snarled, searching through the dust and the chaos and homing in on his target. The warlord grinned evilly, pulling a sword out of his scabbard with a metallic swish and beckoning to the hero in invitation.

Hercules backhanded the mercenary that was rushing him from the left, dropping the man like a rock, and began striding purposefully toward the warlord, a searing intensity radiating from his blue eyes that would have made Ares, himself, think twice about confrontation. But Anker, crazed with bloodlust and ambition and ego, came forward to meet him, splintering his spear in half with one quick slash of his sword.

Instantly the demigod realized he had underestimated his foe, but that merely called for a change in tactics. He began carefully retreating, letting the warlord tire himself out with his wild thrusts. One came a little too close for his liking, so Hercules scooped up a good sized rock and used it to block the blows that he couldn’t avoid. He was a warrior schooled in patience, and while Anker was growing frustrated and careless in his attack, the demigod merely waited and watched for his opportunity. When it came, he caught the warlord’s arm, wrenching the sword from his grasp and using his momentum to flip him down to the ground. Planting a solid boot on the man’s chest, Hercules hefted the sword in his grip and pointed the tip at his throat.

“Call off your army.”

For a split second, a trace of fear flittered over the warlord’s face. But then it was gone, replaced by the evil grin.

“I don’t think so.”

Something sharp poked the demigod in the back, but then it vanished as the warlord howled in fury. Hercules spun around to see that Anker’s second in command, Voleta, had snuck up behind him. But as Iolaus had sworn to watch his partner’s back even when not physically guarding it, he had snuck up behind her and currently had her subdued with his own sword at her throat.

“Thanks,” the demigod grinned.

But the moment’s distraction was all Anker needed. Reaching up, he twisted the boot against his chest, wrenching the demigod’s leg and causing him to lose his balance. Rolling out from under the sword, the warlord leapt up and began running across the battleground for all he was worth. In the confusion of the fight, without riders to give them directions, their horses had begun to scatter, but Anker’s mighty stallion was still lingering on the fringe. Hercules gave chase, but the new limp he had acquired wouldn’t allow him to overcome the warlord’s head start. Anker swung up onto the horse and quickly galloped away out of sight.

Seeing her own opportunity, Voleta used the distraction to elbow Iolaus hard in the gut. The hunter dropped his sword and doubled over, desperately trying to suck a breath of air back into his lungs. He didn’t get much, but he stumbled forward anyway and threw himself at the fleeing woman, tackling her to the ground. She fought like a wildcat and nearly escaped, but even though Iolaus was somewhat small in stature, he more than made up for it in strength and agility and he managed to pin her to the ground and hold her until Hercules returned. The demigod restrained her while the hunter tied her hands behind her back tightly.

“What about them?” Iolaus asked, giving a nod to the beaten mercenaries who were slinking off in all directions.

“Hired thugs,” Hercules spat in disgust. “But not worth the effort. They’re nothing without someone to lead them.”

“But what about Anker?” the hunter persisted. “We can’t just let him get away.”

“I know,” the demigod mused as he considered the options. “But the sooner this one is locked up behind a good solid set of iron bars, the better I’ll sleep at night. Why don’t you go on to Athens and hand her over to the authorities, and I’ll go after Anker.”

“You sure you don’t want me to go after him?” Iolaus asked. “There might be some tracking involved.”

“I’ll manage,” Hercules grinned, knowing his friend never missed the opportunity to remind him that he was the better tracker. “Besides,” he continued, running a hand down his leg and massaging his sore calf. “I think I owe him one.”

“I know I owe her one,” the hunter muttered under his breath, rubbing his bruised chest.

“All right, then. Meet you in Athens, hopefully sooner than later. And Iolaus...” The demigod paused, sobering as he looked at his friend. He knew that the hunter could take care of himself, but he still couldn’t help worrying. “Be careful, ok?”

“You, too.” Iolaus smiled wryly, long used to his friend’s concerns. They exchanged a quick warrior’s shake, and then Hercules turned and began trotting off in the direction that Anker had taken. The hunter turned to his captive, who glared at him with murderous rage.

“You’ll never reach Athens alive,” she growled in a low voice.

“Yeah,” Iolaus sighed, running a hand through his blond curls. “This is going to be a really fun trip.” He moved behind Voleta, giving her a slight push to start her walking. “So let’s get it over with.”

When the call for help had reached them, Hercules and Iolaus had naturally responded right away. But it had been too late for several small villages that had been at the mercy of the new threat that was terrorizing Greece. It was a story that was not unusual, and sadly not uncommon. A ruthless warlord, riding in and taking whatever he wanted. But the few survivors that the heroes had found told a more sinister tale than they were used to. Anker and Voleta were not only fierce and power hungry, they were sadistic. And the two seasoned warriors were both sickened by stories of brutal, inhumane tortures carried out for the joint amusement of the warlord and his second. Hercules had heard enough, and he and Iolaus vowed to stop the reign of terror.

They caught up with the warlord and his band of mercenaries outside of a village they had just attacked. Having seen their depravity firsthand, the demigod and the hunter were determined they were not going to let it go unpunished. They were outnumbered but they were inspired, and when at their best, spurred on by such intense motivation, a dozen mercenaries were no match for the two man army. Victory was theirs. Anker had escaped them, but only temporarily. Iolaus had unwavering faith that his partner would track him down and bring him to justice. In the meantime, Voleta was still a prisoner. Although the sooner he was able to hand her off to the Athenian authorities, the happier the hunter would be.

He’d chosen to take a less traveled road to Athens, lessening the chances that they would run into one of her mercenaries or anyone else that was likely to be on her side. The route involved a trail that cut through the woods, which was hard going in places but would cut down on travel time for those hardy enough to handle the terrain. Iolaus had judged that Voleta was fit enough to traverse the rough trail easily. She was a tall woman, lithe and well muscled, but she moved with an inherent grace. And with her long blond hair and big brown eyes, she was more than attractive. At least she would have been, if she hadn’t been staring daggers at him. But while the hunter could appreciate her outer beauty, he didn’t let himself be fooled into thinking it was more than skin deep. She was evil, she was strong, and she was clever. And she was definitely more than able to kill him if given the chance. So he was not about to let her pretty face sway him into letting down his guard.

Though she did try. As they set out, she first attempted to seduce him, and when he reacted with disgust she launched into a sob story and turned on the waterworks to elicit his pity. This was a little more effective, but Iolaus reminded himself that not only was she a monster, but apparently a good actress as well, and he turned a blind eye to her tears and tried to hustle her along. She began dragging her feet so much that the hunter was finally forced to tie a rope around her waist as a leash to pull her along. In a fit of stubborn resistance, Voleta fell to the ground, refusing to get up even when Iolaus started dragging her along behind him. But his stubbornness was greater than hers, and before his energy began to flag she gave in to the array of cuts and scrapes she was acquiring and clambered to her feet.

They stopped soon after that. Iolaus relaxed against a fallen log and dug some bread and cheese out of his pack.

“What about me?” Voleta demanded.

The hunter took a bite of his dinner and chewed deliberately, arching an eyebrow at her.

“I’m not untying you.”

“You can’t just let me starve,” she whined.

“It’s a two day trip to Athens,” he reminded her. “I doubt you’ll waste away before we get there. But here...”

Iolaus pulled out another hunk of bread and held it out to her. She stared at it, then glared back at him.

“What, you’re going to feed me?”

“I’m not untying you,” he repeated firmly. “So if you want to eat...”

“Forget it,” she snapped, turning her head away.

“Suit yourself.” The hunter shrugged and put the bread back in his pack before offering her his water skin. Voleta glared at him again and before he could react she kicked up and knocked it out of his hand. He glared back at her and scrambled after it to cork it before all the water could leak out. “You’re only making this harder on yourself.”

“I’m just biding my time until I can make it hard on you,” she growled. “You’re not going to reach Athens alive.”

“So I’ve heard,” he said dryly. “But I’d like to see how close I can get before nightfall. Come on, get up. I want to reach the Eleusian Valley by dark.”

She stared up at him defiantly for a moment, then struggled to her feet and began to follow without another word. Iolaus was a bit surprised at her lack of resistence, but he figured that she had probably decided to submit and get him to lower his guard while she waited for her moment of opportunity. A moment he was determined he wasn’t going to give her. Which led to a new question that he hadn’t previously considered. What to do after nightfall? He knew he couldn’t trust her, so he was left with the choice of either staying awake all night to watch her or binding her to a tree to the point of immobility while he got some sleep. Neither one was a particularly attractive option to him, so he decided to just wait and see if she behaved herself in the intermittent hours or not. If she did, he’d be much more inclined to spare her a night of discomfort and sacrifice his own rest in the process. At least she hadn’t needed to answer nature’s call yet, which led to a whole new set of questions as how to handle that situation when it came up.

Iolaus was distracted from his thoughts as they came upon a rope bridge that stretched across a deep ravine. One that had definitely seen better days and had fallen into disrepair since the last time he had been that way. The hunter reached out and yanked on the ropes to test them. They didn’t give and were only slightly frayed, so the main problem was the rotted wood that made up the bridge. Crossing was possible, but had the potential to be a little treacherous.

“You aren’t serious!” Voleta demanded when she saw what he was thinking.

“We’ll be fine,” he assured her. “Just step carefully and balance your weight between the boards.”

“And just how am I supposed to hold on when they start dropping out from under me?” she snarled sarcastically.

Iolaus hesitated, considering his options and again not liking any of them. Going back was out of the question. By nightfall they’d be back at the scene of the battle and he definitely did not want to camp in the dark without knowing how many of her men might be prowling around. The ravine was too steep to climb, so it had to be the rope bridge. But Voleta was right. She would need her hands free to hang on, which meant the hunter was going to have to untie her. He didn’t like it, but there was no other way. Besides, he tried to reassure himself, she wouldn’t turn on him while they were dangling precariously up in the air and risk falling herself. He was just going to have to be ready to subdue her when they reached the other side.

“I want your word that you’re not going to try anything while we’re crossing,” he told her, crossing his arms over his chest as he captured her gaze.

“I promise,” she said solemnly.

Not believing her for a second, Iolaus moved her closer to the bridge and positioned her in front of him.

“You go first,” he ordered, wanting her where he could watch her. “And be careful.”

He undid the ropes binding her hands, and when she was loose she jerked her arms in front of her. Iolaus flinched, but she merely rubbed her chafed wrists and then reached out to grab the thick cord as she stepped out onto the bridge. The hunter left the rope tied around her waist and he reeled in the slack, keeping her on a short leash as he prepared to follow.

It was slow going and a tense journey. The bridge swayed in the wind and from their movements as the rotted wood creaked and groaned under their weight, causing them to freeze after every step, expecting the boards to collapse. But the bridge held, and when they were halfway across Iolaus began to think they might make it without incident after all. At least until his prisoner came to a stop.

“Voleta,” he began quietly, realizing that she had decided to seize her opportunity. “Don’t do this.” The woman didn’t answer apart from a tensing of her muscles. Indiscernible to most, but as a fellow warrior Iolaus picked up on it and knew he was in deep trouble. “You’re going to kill us both.”

“They’re going to kill me in Athens anyway,” she said softly. “And if I have to go, I’m taking you with me.”

She whirled and leaped back at him, her momentum knocking him down to the bridge as the wood cracked and splintered under the force. Iolaus struggled both to hold her off and to keep a grip on the ropes as the boards began dropping out from under him. Voleta was seemingly blind to their peril, and as she attacked again the hunter realized his mistake. Her bloodlust and desire for vengeance against him outweighed any measure of self preservation she may have had. She didn’t care if she died, as long as she ended his life in the process. Iolaus blocked her next attack with his boot and kicked her back, but as she fell more of the rotten wood gave way and her hand closed around air, the rope she was grabbing for just out of reach. Voleta screamed in terror and rage as she began to fall. Instinctively, the hunter lunged forward and somehow managed to grab her hand. He couldn’t help thinking back to the time he’d been in a similar situation, holding onto the woman from Taphos for all he was worth, but she had panicked and he lost his grip and she’d fallen to her death. Shoving away those painful memories, Iolaus came back to the present and strained to pull Voleta back up to what was left of the bridge. She reached up to him, clinging to him as she tried to help him get her back to safety. Or so he thought, as before he knew what was happening she had yanked his knife out of his belt and was bringing it down straight at his heart. Iolaus barely blocked her by catching her arm and they struggled in a stalemate until an ominous crack sounded in their ears. More of the boards gave way and this time they both fell, since Voleta still wouldn’t give up her attack and the hunter had no hands free to save himself.

As he watched the ground rushing up to meet him, Iolaus’ only thought was the wry hope that Hercules was having better luck than he was.

As the world came into focus, Iolaus was amazed to realize he was alive. He’d been expecting to open his eyes and see Charon waiting for him, but his initial relief quickly evaporated as Voleta appeared before him brandishing his sword, and the hunter realized his trip to the ferryman might not be far off after all.

“Are you all right?”

An odd question from someone who wanted him dead. Every inch of his body was throbbing in pain, but Iolaus pushed all that aside and began reaching for the knife at his belt, belatedly realizing he’d lost it in the fall. When he didn’t answer her, Voleta grew impatient and her grip tightened around the hilt of the sword.

“Can you hear me? Do you understand me?” she demanded nervously. “Please, just say something.”

“Something,” the hunter muttered, his eyes narrowing at he studied her. She was hovering by him, but appeared to be keeping a safe distance. The woman who had just done her best to kill them both was not attacking him, but was instead regarding him with a mixture of fear and mistrust and even a little curiosity, and a hint of suspicion began growing in his mind.

“Who are you?”

“Someone who’s in a lot of pain at the moment,” Iolaus told her wryly, relaxing slightly as he determined he was not in any immediate danger. “You don’t remember me?”

“No,” she answered, meeting his gaze. “So you’d better give me a reason to trust you, and do it fast.”

“Voleta, take a look at me,” Iolaus chuckled humorlessly. “I’m not a threat to a mosquito right now, let alone you.”

“Voleta?” she asked uncertainly. “That’s my name?”

“Yeah,” the hunter replied, watching her carefully out of the corner of his eye as he struggled to sit up. Moment of truth time. “You don’t remember you, either?”

“I can’t remember anything,” she whispered, the bravado draining out of her as she let the sword droop in her grasp. “Everything’s a big blank. My whole life is gone. I can’t remember anything about who I am...”

“It must be amnesia from the fall,” Iolaus concluded, his suspicions confirmed. He started to silently thank the gods for small favors, but then Voleta’s face crumpled and she looked so lost that he couldn’t quite bring himself to celebrate the fact that her memory was gone, even though it meant a murderous woman wasn’t trying to end his life while he was indisposed. “Hey, look, it’ll be all right. I’m sure it’s only temporary,” he tried to console her, hoping for his sake her memory wouldn’t return anytime soon.

“I just...” she trailed off, then sought out his gaze once more. “Tell me, who are you? Are we friends?”

“Well, not exactly,” he hedged. “I guess you could say we’re traveling companions.”

“And we fell from up there?” she asked in awe, shading her eyes against the setting sun as she looked up at the remains of the rope bridge.

“The bridge gave out,” Iolaus explained, his own eyes sweeping the vicinity. “There’s a lot of thick underbrush down here. I guess that helped to cushion the landing a little.”

Voleta turned back to her companion, a myriad of questions on her lips. But when she caught the tight lines of pain on the hunter’s face and saw the way he was clutching his arm tightly against his body, she knew that he hadn’t been as lucky in the fall as she had been and stowed her curiosity for the moment.

“We need to find a clearer space and get a fire going,” he was saying, gasping a little with the effort of just getting to his knees. “It’s going to get cold down here tonight. And we need to find some water before it gets too dark.”

“That can wait,” Voleta said softly, easing him back down to a reclining position and taking his arm in her hands, feeling the broken bone moving under her fingers. “This needs to be set and bound first. I’ll be right back.”

She hurried off to find a few stout sticks to brace his arm and Iolaus let her go, stunned into speechlessness by the surprising gentleness of her touch.

Voleta may not have remembered anything about her life, but her skills in battlefield first aid had not been forgotten. She deftly set and bound Iolaus’ injured arm and bandaged the bleeding gash on the back of his head, using supplies from his pack which she’d found not far from where they’d landed. They were both covered with cuts and scratches and she was sporting a large knot on her temple, but all in all they both considered themselves extremely fortunate to have escaped such a fall as unscathed as they had. Once she had the hunter patched up, Voleta offered to try and climb the ravine and find help. But Iolaus managed to discourage her, persuading her that she might not make it before night fell and she’d be risking her life if she became trapped in the dark halfway up the steep ravine. So with little other recourse, she helped him to his feet and they began to take stock of their situation to try and make the best of things for the night.

They didn’t do too badly, considering. Not far from where they’d fallen they came across a spring bubbling up into a small pool of water. There was a clearing sheltered by a ring of trees nearby, and plenty of fallen sticks and branches to ensure the fire Voleta started would last through the night. Iolaus only had one blanket and she insisted that he take it, deeming him to be the more injured and thus the more in need. It went against his gentlemen’s code, but the hunter gave in without much of a fight as he was tired and in pain and didn’t have the energy to argue. As the black night descended through the ravine, he spread the blanket over the ground, which was cushioned somewhat by fragrant grasses and thick moss and definitely a softer bed than he’d had many nights sleeping out under the stars. Voleta curled up on the other side of the fire and was soon asleep, leaving Iolaus to stretch out and watch her, a little nervous about closing his eyes in case her memory came back to her in the night. But in the end, exhaustion overcame his pain and his suspicion and he was lulled into Morpheus’ embrace.

Apollo’s bright sun rose as scheduled in the morning, although it took a little longer for the warm rays to make their way down into the ravine. But even with the later start, neither Voleta nor Iolaus showed any inclination to rise. Both of them were acutely feeling the effects of the fall, too stiff and sore and bruised to move unless absolutely necessary. The hunter had been worried that when day broke Voleta would once again express the desire to try and climb the ravine in search of help. But that appeared to be the furthest thing on her mind. On the contrary, her head was pounding on top of the rest of her aches and pains, so she spent the morning lying silently with a strip of bandage soaked in the cold spring water over her eyes. Eventually, the throbbing in Iolaus’ arm outweighed the pain throbbing through the rest of his body, and he forced himself to get up and do some stretches to loosen his protesting muscles. Recovering some of his mobility, he took a walk around the perimeter of the camp to see what he could find, returning with a handful of vervain. A cold, horribly bitter concoction was the best he could do, but the herb did help ease the pain for the both of them.

Feeling a bit better in the afternoon, Voleta began asking questions, grilling him ceaselessly in her desire to find out about her life and regain some scrap of memory. Iolaus was distinctly uncomfortable, for he could hardly tell her the truth. He didn’t exactly lie to her, giving her evasive and euphimistic answers and letting her draw her own conclusions until she erroneously made the assumption that she had hired him to protect her and ensure her safe passage to Athens. She was frustrated because the hunter had never been a good liar and she could sense he was holding something back. But he was sincere and truthful when he told her that they had only met the day before and they hadn’t spoken much at the start of their journey, and she accepted that and finally eased off of the interrogation.

Iolaus left her to her thoughts while he went to gather more sticks to add to the tinder pile to keep the fire going throughout the night. The shadows were growing when he returned, so he quickly filled up his water skin at the spring and then dug into his pack, his hunger finally outmatching his pain. He pulled out the bread and cheese and gave Voleta a generous portion, but she did little more than pick at the food, her mind far away as she gazed into the fire.

“You know, you really should try and eat something,” Iolaus told her, startling her out of her reverie.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, looking down at her untouched meal. “I’m just not that hungry, I guess.”

“You need to keep up your strength,” the hunter chided her. “Believe me, I know. Healing always happens faster on a full stomach. If it’s the pain, I can give you some more vervain...”

“It’s not that...” Voleta trailed off, her voice choking into a sob as tears filled her eyes.

“Then what is it?”

“I’m afraid,” she admitted. “I don’t know anything about myself. Who I am, where I’m from. Why I was going to Athens. I don’t remember any of the people in my life. My friends, my family. What if I’m married? What if I was running from an enemy? What if there was something important I was on my way to do? And if my memory never comes back, how can I ever find out about my past? How can I go on in a world that I don’t know anymore? You just don’t know how terrifying that is!”

Iolaus sighed and put his own meal aside, getting up and walking around the fire to sit down beside her. He slid his good arm around her shoulders, never able to resist a crying woman, and she folded into his embrace, releasing all her fear as he comforted her.

“I do know what it’s like,” he soothed her. “I lost my memory once, too.” Of course that had been through the intervention of a well meaning but ditzy goddess, but now was not the time or place for that story. “It wasn’t complete amnesia because I remembered some things. But most of my life was gone and I couldn’t remember anything from the last several years. I didn’t know much about myself or where I was going or why. It was definitely a rough time for me, so I do know what you’re going through, Voleta. But my memory came back, and yours will, too. You just need some time.”

“What if it doesn’t come back?”

“Then you start over,” Iolaus told her, stroking her hair. “And you make a new life for yourself.”

She quieted in his arms and after a few moments sat up, wiping the moisture from her cheeks.

“Iolaus? I know you say that we only met yesterday and I have no right to ask this of you. But you’re the only one I know and I trust you. Promise me that once we get out of here you won’t leave me until I remember something. Or at least until I get settled somewhere and I can start over. Please, promise me that.”

The hunter looked at her, hearing Hercules screaming a warning inside his head. He tried to remind himself that they were in this predicament because the woman was devoted to ending his life. But her brown eyes held no malice as they beseeched him. She was just a scared, lost damsel in distress begging for his help, and his heart would not let him refuse her.

“I promise,” he said softly, giving her a little hug. “On one condition. I want you to try and eat something, all right?”

She nodded and picked up the bread, nibbling at it as he went back to his spot across the fire, his own appetite ebbing away as hers returned.

The next day started off much as the previous one had, with battered bodies loathe to move and mostly content to rest near the fire, choking down more of the bitter vervain. But boredom eventually overcame the restless hunter and he forced himself up and worked out some of the soreness in his muscles. Voleta was fascinated by his actions, so he showed her some of the exercises he’d learned in the East. With her lithe body she was a natural for the techniques, effortlessly conforming to the flowing movements and happily finding that they did help work out some of the kinks. Iolaus also taught her how to put herself into a light meditative state in order to let herself relax and distance herself from the pain while her body healed. She also mastered this practice and when she came back to the world she was delighted to find her encroaching headache had receded.

As night fell, Voleta again pounced on him with a barrage of questions. This time, all about him and his life. Iolaus normally loved to regale others with his exploits with Hercules, but now he didn’t dare out of the fear of jogging her memory. So again he gave her a carefully edited version of the truth, and while she knew he was holding back she chose not to press him on it, to his great relief.

Voleta was up at dawn and took herself through the series of Eastern movements. She was feeling much better and moving much easier and declared she had no more need for the vervain. To Iolaus’ dismay, she again expressed interest in climbing the ravine, a feat he would definitely not be able to manage with one arm. And he couldn’t let her go off alone out of the fear that she would remember her old life and disappear, escaping justice. Or, he was surprised to find himself thinking, out of the fear that she would run into trouble and be hurt. It wasn’t easy, but he managed to finally talk her out of it, assuring her that his friend would be on his way to Athens and would find them sooner or later.

“But even if he does come this way,” she argued. “How will he ever know that we’re down here?”

“He’ll just know,” Iolaus assured her confidently. “Trust me.”

And she must have, because she let the matter drop.

The supply of bread and cheese quickly ran out. There wasn’t much in the ravine by way of game, but there were plenty of rabbits which suited the hunter’s tastes just fine. However, he couldn’t quite manage the snares on his own, so Voleta went with him and acted as his hands. She seemed to be in a better mindset, apparently having decided that there wasn’t much she could do about her situation so she might as well make the best of it. And Iolaus was a little disturbed to realize how drawn he was to the amnesiac woman. They had developed an easy sort of camaraderie, laughing and joking and teasing each other. He was constantly having to remind himself that Voleta was a monster who had committed terrible atrocities, but it was so hard to associate that woman with the one before him now. The one who was congenial and witty and warm. He kept finding that he was letting his guard down, and he had to silently scold himself for it, knowing that at any moment her memory could return and she could turn on him. Although whatever she did to him wouldn’t be as bad as what Hercules would do when he found out that his partner had let himself be suckered by a pretty face. Again.

After the snares were set, Iolaus walked back to the area where they had fallen, wanting to see if he could find the knife that he’d lost. He convinced Voleta to tag along, although she didn’t understand what was so special about it that required them scouring the bushes so intently.

“It’s got sentimental value,” the hunter told her absently. “I forged it with a friend of mine. The one I’m expecting.”

“If he’s that good of a friend I’m sure he’ll understand, given the circumstances,” she muttered, acutely feeling the heat of the afternoon sun.

“He would, but I still want it back. Besides,” Iolaus continued, shooting her a grin, “what else do you have to do?”

“Get out of these thorns and sit in the shade, for one thing,” Voleta muttered under her breath. She intensified her search, figuring that the sooner the knife was recovered the sooner they could do just that. And finally she spotted it, half buried in debris but glinting faintly in the sun. “I found it,” she announced, but as she bent forward to pick it up, pain suddenly exploded in her skull, bringing her to her knees.

Iolaus saw her go down and heard her cry out and he was instantly beside her.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“My head,” she managed to moan out.

The hunter was helpless to do anything, and after several minutes it was apparent the pain was not abating so he gathered her up in his arms, ignoring the protest in his broken limb as he carried her back to the camp and laid her gently down on the blanket near the fire. He tried to coax some vervain into her but she couldn’t keep the bitter herb down, and his attempts at helping her find peace through meditation failed because she couldn’t distance herself from the pain enough to concentrate. So Iolaus could only cradle her head in his lap, bathing her face with the cold spring water as she rode out the agony and he watched and worried. Finally, after darkness had fallen, her tense body started to relax, and the brown eyes that had been screwed shut for hours blinked open.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered raggedly.

“For what?” he asked gently.

“Being so much trouble.”

“I know you don’t know me very well but trouble is my middle name,” Iolaus said with a smile. “Do you think you can try a sip of water?”

He helped her raise her head up and place the water skin to her lips. She took a tentative drink but it seemed to sit well so she had another.

“It’s late,” she concluded, studying his face in the firelight. “You should get some sleep.”

“You go ahead,” Iolaus encouraged her. “I’m going to sit with you for awhile. Just to make sure you’re ok.”

“At least lie down with me. I’m fine,” Voleta said when he hesitated. “I’m just tired now. But I can’t rest if you don’t.”

Giving in, the hunter carefully stretched out on the blanket beside her, letting her stay closest to the fire.

“There. We’re both resting,” he told her, a trace of fondness in his voice. “Now close your eyes and go to sleep, all right?”

She gave him a slight smile and did as he commanded.

Iolaus woke in the morning, finding Voleta curled up against him, sleeping peacefully. He reached over and traced a gentle finger along her temple. The lump and the bruising was fading, but the invisible injury to her head didn’t seem to be healing as well as the visible. He was genuinely worried about her and if help didn’t arrive soon, he was going to have to come up with some way to get them out of the ravine and get her to a healer.

The hunter disentangled himself from her and got up, shoving his hands through his unruly curls in agitation. Why did she need a healer? Once she got to Athens to face trial she’d most likely be executed for crimes against humanity anyway. This was not a friend, but a woman who had thrived in spreading death and destruction, killing women and children and delighting in the torture of innocents. But Iolaus could no longer deny he was growing to care about her, and was starting to have a real problem with the thought of turning her into the Athenian government.

He went to the spring, splashing the bone chilling water over his face in an effort to jar some sense into his brain. But he walked away just as torn, returning to sit beside Voleta, watching her sleep and wanting to be close in case she needed anything.

It was almost afternoon when Voleta finally awoke. She was a little pale but seemed in good spirits and insisted she was fine. Iolaus equally insisted that she was to stay in camp and take it easy for the rest of the day. She was compliant for awhile, mostly because he hovered close by and entertained her with some of his more amusing stories. But in late afternoon she began to pout, wanting to go with him to check the snares they’d set the day before. He adamantly refused, having to resort to both threatening her and bribing her, promising she could go out in the morning and help him reset the traps if she behaved herself in the meantime. Finally she capitulated and agreed to stay put, and Iolaus set off alone, hoping that their efforts had been fruitful because he was starving.

The hunter found rabbits in two of the snares, but as he made his way to check the last one he began to wish he hadn’t made Voleta stay at the camp. Someone was coming. Iolaus silently drew his sword and tried to hide himself among the shrubbery, hoping that if the stranger wasn’t friendly, that at least it was just one and Voleta wouldn’t be found. He listened carefully, monitoring the sounds. One set of footsteps. Someone big. Not trying to hide his approach. Coming with a long, easy stride that became increasingly familiar.

“Hercules?”

“Iolaus?”

The bushes parted and the demigod emerged, and the hunter rushed forward to greet his old friend with unconcealed relief.

“Voleta.”

The woman turned, her face registering surprise as she took in the big man with Iolaus.

“Don’t be alarmed,” the hunter was quick to reassure her. “This is the friend I told you about. This is Hercules.”

They both watched her carefully, but there was no spark of recognition in her eyes. She merely got to her feet gracefully and extended a hand to the demigod.

“I’m very pleased to meet you, Hercules,” she greeted him, shooting a sly smile toward the hunter. “Iolaus swore to me that you would somehow find us. I didn’t quite believe him, but I guess I was wrong.”

“Herc has a knack for bailing me out of trouble,” Iolaus explained, grinning back at her.

“Which I wouldn’t need if you didn’t have such a knack for landing in it,” Hercules countered, giving his friend a pointed look.

They had brought each other up to speed on their collective misadventures as they’d walked back to the camp. It had taken a lot of effort, but Hercules had managed to track down Anker, finally cornering him on a bridge that spanned a raging river. Faced with a pissed off demigod on one end and an irate lynch mob on the other end, the warlord took the only option left him and jumped, immediately disappearing under the swirling water. Hercules walked up and down the river bank, not finding a body but being reasonably sure that Anker couldn’t have survived the fast current and lethal undertow. Then he had left to catch up with Iolaus.

The hunter relayed his own bridge escapade, and did his best to make his friend understand how the situation had changed over the last few days. Hercules had his skepticism on full force, but he eventually agreed to play along with his partner. The demigod understood why Iolaus had not told Voleta the truth, but now that he was there he felt there was no reason to keep deceiving her for he could surely handle her and keep her subdued if her memory returned. But Iolaus convinced him to take advantage of her amnesia for a little while longer. At least until they were out of the ravine, for he definitely did not want a repeat of what had happened up on the bridge. And Hercules reluctantly concurred, realizing it was not going to be easy to get his injured friend out of the ravine and having a compliant prisoner would definitely work to their advantage. But that didn’t mean that he trusted her as he felt his partner foolishly did, and as he shook her hand he eyed her warily, resolving to keep one eye on Iolaus’ back and the other on his own.

Dinner was a feast compared to what Iolaus and Voleta had been subsisting on for days. Roasted rabbit, baked tubers, and sweet berries to finish the meal. The atmosphere, however, left something to be desired. Hercules brought a palpable tension to the campsite, and every time the hunter joked with Voleta or smiled at her or even looked at her for more than a second, he could feel the disapproval radiating from his partner. It made him feel annoyed and self conscious and chastised all at the same time, but if Voleta sensed anything amiss she didn’t show it. She was gracious and charming to the stranger, immediately embracing him as a friend since Iolaus did the same. But she also tired early, still a little weak from her frightening episode the night before, so before long she bid both men a good night and curled up by the fire, drifting off to sleep. It was a relief for the hunter as the tension eased somewhat, but he also declared his intent to turn in as a way to get out of having the conversation he knew his partner was wanting to have. But sleep did not come easily, and he spent a long time staring into the fire, his mind and his heart conflicting over what he knew he had to do.

It was a restless night, but Iolaus did manage to eventually catch a few hours sleep. He woke early to find Hercules already up, and he had an unvoiced suspicion that the demigod had stayed awake all night in order to keep watch on Voleta. The hunter sighed, wishing his friend would ease up on her just a little. It was still a long way to Athens and an open air of hostility was not going to help anything. Voleta woke soon and the three of them had a quick breakfast consisting of dinner’s leftovers, then they quickly packed up the meager camp and bid a welcome goodbye to the ravine.

The climb was not bad at first, but then it grew steeper and steeper until it was almost vertical. Plenty of shrubs and roots and vines covered the ground, but they made for deceptive handholds for many of them were loose and tore away with just a little bit of pressure. Hercules had insisted on lashing everyone together with rope. A maneuver that Voleta thought was suicidal, for if one of them slipped they all would go down. But Iolaus knew that Hercules wouldn’t slip and he wouldn’t let either of them fall if they did. He didn’t explain this to her, but he gave her a reassuring glance and she compliantly went along with the plan. And as the climb got rougher, they were all glad of the anchoring support. Iolaus was having a particularly tough time. His broken arm dangled uselessly at his side and his good arm quickly grew tired from the effort of solely supporting his weight. Voleta had the use of both hands, but even so it was still a rough climb, made treacherous by the unstable footing. Even Hercules was having difficulty finding and keeping secure grips, but he had the strength to hold on and support his partner, and as they progressed, Voleta as well. Until finally the torturous climb was over and they reached the top of the ravine.

Hercules had initially thought they would make it out and head for the nearest village. But as he looked at his two companions he knew they wouldn’t be leaving the woods that night. They were both pale and both exhausted, no doubt having aggravated their recent injuries with the arduous climb and sapping their healing energies. So he gave them a little while to rest, and then they continued on, only going far enough to find a good place to make camp. The spot he chose was next to a nice sized stream, and the demigod waded in and snatched a couple of large fish from the water, much to Voleta’s amazement.

“Show off,” Iolaus muttered.

“Well, I caught so you clean,” Hercules announced smugly, reminding his partner of their long standing rule.

“I can try,” the hunter said pathetically, immediately assuming an injured air as he held up his bound arm. “But it might be a little hard...”

“I’ll do it,” Voleta volunteered.

“Forget it,” Hercules told her, rolling his eyes. “I’ll do it.”

“No, I want to,” she insisted, picking up the fish that the demigod had strung on a vine. “It’s the least I can do after all you did to get us up here safely.”

Without a second thought, Iolaus handed her his knife and she took the cutlery and the fish and headed for the stream to clean them.

“We should go find some leaves to wrap those in when she’s done,” the hunter suggested as he poked at the struggling fire. When he received no answer he glanced up, seeing the look of utter reproach his friend was giving him. “What?”

“What’s the matter with you?” Hercules demanded quietly. “You’re just giving her a weapon and turning your back on her?”

“Herc, she could have killed me a hundred times over by now,” Iolaus said tiredly. “I don’t think that’s something we need to worry about anymore.”

“And what happens when she gets her memory back?”

“I’ll deal with that if and when it happens.” The hunter was irritated with what he perceived to be his partner implying he was too naive to look out for himself, but mostly it was fatigue making him snap at his friend.

“I don’t believe this,” Hercules muttered in frustration. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not,” Iolaus said forcefully.

“But you like her,” the demigod accused, his suspicions confirmed when his partner looked away. “Iolaus, you have GOT to get over this.”

“There’s nothing to get over,” the hunter insisted. “It’s just that...”

“What?”

“She’s changed, Herc.”

“Has she?”

“Hey, I became a thug when Fortune took my memory,” Iolaus pointed out. “Is it so hard to believe that she could become a good person after she lost hers?”

“You don’t want to take her to Athens, do you?” the demigod demanded.

“I know we have to,” Iolaus murmured sadly. “But yeah, I have a problem with it. I don’t know if it’s fair to punish her for crimes she can’t even remember.”

“Whether she remembers them or not, she did them,” Hercules reminded him. “And she has to answer for that. Are you forgetting what she did in those villages? About all those people she tortured?”

“No,” the hunter protested. “But she’s not that person anymore, Herc.”

“And what happens if you let her go and she gets her memory back?” Hercules challenged. “How are you going to feel when she leaves another line of victims in her wake?” The demigod sighed and reached out to put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You know what I think? You’re not feeling guilty because you have to turn her in. You’re feeling guilty because you haven’t told her the truth.”

“I’m going to tell her.”

“When? When you’re handing her over to the Athenian soldiers?”

“Ok, you’re right,” Iolaus agreed, scrubbing a hand wearily over his face. “I need to tell her everything.”

“You want me to do it?”

“No,” the hunter said, watching as Voleta approached them from the stream. “I should do it.”

“I’m here if you need me,” Hercules promised.

“I know,” Iolaus whispered, taking comfort in that undisputed fact.

Despite his exhaustion, the hunter didn’t sleep well. He had decided to put off the conversation he knew he needed to have with Voleta, deeming them both too worn out for the bombshell of the truth. And though she didn’t say anything, he noticed the way she kept sneaking a hand up to massage at her temple and he suspected her head was aching again. So he figured it was a conversation that would keep until the following day when they were both rested and ready for it. Although when the sun rose he was neither rested nor ready for it, but he knew, as hard as it was going to be, he had to tell her about her murderous past and her uncertain future.

Voleta did wake up rested, and happy as she was oblivious to the weight that was about to be dropped on her. She eagerly partook of the vegetarian breakfast Hercules had gathered and then declared her intent to go down to the stream for a bath before they resumed their journey. Iolaus felt his partner squirming beside him and gave him a look that clearly told him to let her go, so the demigod nodded his consent, trusting in his friend and allowing her to have her privacy.

Little did the two warriors know, Hercules was right to be concerned but not for the reason he thought. As Voleta finished bathing and climbed out of the water to get dressed, she was unaware that she was being watched. At least until an unfamiliar voice whispered her name and she caught sight of someone moving in the bushes.

“Who are you?” she gasped nervously. “How do you know my name?”

“What are you talking about?” the man demanded, moving into view but keeping close to cover. “It’s me.”

“I don’t know you,” Voleta told him, taking a few steps back and getting ready to call out for Iolaus.

“What do you mean you don’t know me? It’s me. It’s Anker.”

“I don’t remember,” she said slowly, studying the stranger and not liking what she saw. His eyes were cold and hard and his mouth was twisted in a scowl. He obviously knew her, but there was something sinister radiating off of him and it made her afraid. “My memory...”

“It doesn’t matter.” Anker was confused, but there was no time to sort it out and he reached toward her. “Come with me. We have to get you out of here.”

“Don’t touch me,” she ordered fearfully, taking another step back. “My friends are nearby and they’ll hear me if I scream.”

“Your friends? Hercules and Iolaus.” Anker stared at her, completely befuddled. “Have you lost your mind?”

“No, just my memory,” Voleta told him. “And they are my friends and if you hurt me...”

“Your ‘friends’ are taking you to Athens to stand trial for murder,” the warlord hissed, losing his patience. “I don’t know what lies they’ve been telling you, but if you don’t come with me now then the Athenians are going to execute you.”

“No, you’re the one that’s lying,” she stammered, her words lacking conviction.

“Voleta,” Anker continued, gentling his tone, “please come with me. You and I were set to rule the world together. It’s all right if you don’t remember. I’ll help you get your memory back. But we’ve done so much already and Greece is ours for the taking. If you go back to those fools they will kill you. Come with me, and you’ll have the world at your feet.”

“No,” she said shakily. “I don’t believe you.” And as she turned and fled back to the waiting warriors, Anker faded back into the bushes with a vehement curse.

“What is it?” Iolaus asked in concern as Voleta came rushing up from the stream, pale and trembling. “What happened?”

“Why are you taking me to Athens?” she blurted out. “Tell me the truth. Are you turning me over to the government to stand trial?”

Iolaus glanced at Hercules who gazed back at him sympathetically, and then he took Voleta’s hand and helped her to sit down next to him.

“Yes,” the hunter admitted, assuming that part of her memory had returned. “That’s why we’re going to Athens.”

“Why?” she demanded hoarsely. “What did I do?”

“You were riding with a band of mercenaries and a warlord named Anker,” Iolaus explained as gently as he could. “You attacked several villages...”

“And?”

“A lot of people were killed,” the hunter went on. “And a lot of people were tortured. Houses burned, women and children slaughtered...”

“No,” she protested vehemently. “I couldn’t have. I COULDN’T have!”

“We saw it, Voleta,” Iolaus confessed, his own heart aching for the horror and the despair that flashed over her face. “Hercules and I both did. He went after Anker while I tried to take you to Athens. And we fell from that bridge because... Well, because you were trying to kill us both. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you this sooner.”

She buried her face in her hands, rocking slightly as she tried to come to grips with what Iolaus was telling her. It couldn’t be true. She couldn’t have done those horrible things he was accusing her of. It didn’t feel like her. She had no memory of it. And she didn’t want to believe that she was ever capable of such murderous cruelty. But... it made sense. The inconsistences in Iolaus’ stories, the pieces that didn’t add up, Anker’s appearance and affirmation... It was true. She had been a ruthless, murdering warlord. And now she was going to pay the ultimate price for living a life she couldn’t even remember. Voleta felt an arm slipping around her shoulders and she shrugged it off. But the arm was persistent and even though she tried to fight him off, before she knew it she was sobbing against Iolaus’ chest.

“I’ll stand up for you,” he said desperately when she had finally exhausted herself and quieted. “I’ll testify that you’re not the same person who committed those crimes. Maybe that will help get you some leeway with the court. And Hercules will help, too. Won’t you, Herc?”

“I’ll do what I can,” the demigod agreed. “But you do have to stand trial, Voleta.”

“I know,” she murmured woodenly. “I’ll come quietly and I won’t give you any trouble. I give you my word. For whatever the word of a killer is worth.”

“It’s good enough for me,” Hercules vowed, finally deciding as his partner already had that the woman, in her current state, was no threat to either of them.

“Voleta,” Iolaus told her reassuringly, “I made you a promise. I said that I wouldn’t leave you until your memory came back or you were settled somewhere. And I’ll stand by that promise. Whatever is going to happen, you won’t have to face it alone. I’ll be there with you, as long as you need me.”

“Thank you,” she whispered with a ghost of a smile.

“We should get going,” Hercules suggested, glancing up at the sun to note that it was already midmorning. “We’ve still got a long trip ahead of us.”

Voleta was silent as they broke camp, but as they began walking she turned to the demigod.

“Hercules, what happened to Anker?”

“He jumped into the river to avoid me,” Hercules answered. “We couldn’t find a body, but there’s no way he could have survived the current.”

Voleta merely nodded and kept walking, keeping the evidence to the contrary to herself.

“What is it, Herc?” Iolaus asked quietly as his friend came to a halt, tensing as his blue eyes scanned the area around them.

“I’m not sure,” the demigod replied slowly. “I’ve just got a feeling.”

The hunter drew his sword, knowing that his partner’s “feelings” were usually semi-divine warnings of danger. He couldn’t see anything, but Hercules obviously did by the way he grabbed Voleta and shoved her into Iolaus’ arms. Then they were both pushed to the ground, feeling the air rushing over them and hearing a sick crack and a groan of pain. Iolaus instinctively covered Voleta’s head but raised his own just in time to see Hercules sailing backwards and disappearing over the edge of a cliff after impacting with the heavy log that had come swinging down out of the trees at them. He scrambled up but was distracted by the figure quickly advancing on him. Iolaus had lost his grip on his sword when he’d slammed into the ground and the blade had skittered out of reach, so he was left to try and fend off an irate Anker with a broken arm and a short knife.

It should have been no contest for the warlord, but the thought of what had been done to his partner filled the hunter with a cold rage that he channeled into his fists and feet. Lashing out with a series of spin kicks, Iolaus knocked the blade from Anker’s hand. Then a hard punch to the gut and two to the face had the warlord seeing stars. The hunter grabbed his opponent by the hair, raising a foot to send him into oblivion, but he hesitated as he felt something sharp at his back.

“Stop, Iolaus,” Voleta commanded. “Please don’t make me hurt you.”

He released the warlord and slowly turned around to face her.

“Voleta, what are you doing?”

“I can’t go back to Athens,” she told him apologetically. “They’re going to kill me if I do. Please, just let me go away with Anker. I swear to you I’m not going to hurt anyone ever again. You told me that this amnesia was a chance to start a new life. Please, I’m begging you, just turn your back on me and let me do that.”

“I can’t,” Iolaus said painfully. “I’m sorry.”

“I told you,” Anker spat, recovering his senses as he picked himself up from the ground. “You have to kill him. Do it! Do it NOW!”

Voleta winced as he screamed at her, but when she looked into the kind blue eyes in front of her she knew she could not take his life, not even to save her own. She may have had murder in her heart once, but no longer. So she shook her head slightly and lowered the sword.

“What are you doing?” Anker screeched. “Kill him!” He rushed at the hunter but Voleta handed him his sword and Iolaus took it with pleasure. The warlord tried to disarm him but Iolaus overpowered him, sending him reeling with a few more stinging blows. While he was down, the hunter dug the rope out of his pack and securely tied up his quarry.

“Herc?” he called out as he finished tying off the last knot.

“What?” came the grumpy reply. Which Iolaus understood to mean that the demigod had managed to catch himself and was working on climbing his way back up. Once he was sure his prisoner was trussed up tightly and not going anywhere, the hunter started toward the cliff but was distracted as he saw Voleta stumble and almost fall.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, reaching out to steady her. “Is the pain back again?”

“A little,” she admitted. “Not bad. But I’m dizzy...”

“Ok,” Iolaus soothed her. “Just have a seat here and rest for a minute.” He helped her sit so she was propped up against a tree and he handed her his water skin. “I have to go help Herc. Are you going to be all right for a minute?”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, taking a sip of water. “Go on.”

He started back toward the cliff but paused and turned to her with a grin.

“Oh, and thanks. You know, for not killing me.”

“I was getting used to the prospect of starting over, Iolaus,” she murmured with a smile. “It was scarey at first, but a new life wasn’t looking so bad as long as I had you in it as a friend. Whatever I did in the past and whatever the future holds, I’m glad I got to know you like this.”

“Me, too. Hang on, I’ll be right back.”

Iolaus carefully ventured to the edge of the cliff and rested his hands on his hips as he looked down at his friend, clinging to the side.

“What is it with you and climbing these days?”

“Funny. You want to give me a hand now?”

“Keep your pants on. I’ve been a little busy up here, you know?”

“Yeah, sorry, no rush. Whenever you have a minute,” Hercules said dryly. “Just sometime before I lose my grip would be good.”

“Patience is a virtue, Herc,” Iolaus told him loftily, disappearing from sight as he gave the area a quick scan. He’d used the length of rope they carried to secure Anker, but the log that had knocked the demigod off the cliff was still dangling from the trees by thick vines. The hunter used his sword to cut it down and threw the vine to his partner, which greatly eased his climb. “You ok?” Iolaus asked seriously as he gave his friend a hand up, knowing the heavy log had slammed him hard.

“I think so,” Hercules replied, rubbing the bruised shoulder that had taken the impact. “I’ll probably be sore for a few days but nothing’s broken.” His gaze came to rest on the sight of Anker, squirming against his bonds to no avail. “Where’s Voleta?”

Iolaus glanced to the tree where he’d left her, worry welling up in him when he saw the way she was slumped over on the ground. He rushed to her side, his fears confirmed when he couldn’t find a pulse.

“She’s dead,” he whispered to his partner. Then the hunter was up and striding back toward Anker, fury on his face. “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing,” the warlord insisted. “But if she’s dead, she got what she deserved for betraying me. The bitch got off easy.”

Iolaus raised a hand and found his arm restrained by Hercules.

“It isn’t worth it,” the demigod told him quietly. The hunter jerked out of his friend’s grasp and went back to Voleta, easing her down into a more natural reclining position and brushing the hair back from her face.

“She kept having headaches,” Iolaus revealed sadly. “I guess her injuries from the fall were worse than we thought.”

“Iolaus,” Hercules said gently, resting an arm on his friend’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” the hunter sighed heavily. “So am I.”

Hercules came out of the hold and spied a lone figure at the railing of the ship, looking out over the water. Iolaus had been uncharacteristically quiet on the journey to Athens, letting Hercules take the responsibility of delivering their prisoner safely into the hands of the Athenians. He hadn’t shown much interest in the city and had merely shrugged noncommittally when Hercules asked if he wanted to walk back or hop a ship bound for Corinth. So the demigod had chosen the ship, hoping a few days at sea would ease his partner’s troubled soul. Naturally he’d expected his friend to be feeling a little upset over the events surrounding Voleta’s death and he’d respectfully been giving him a little time and space, but it was becoming painfully obvious that something was really eating at the hunter. Concerned, Hercules moved to stand beside his partner, his own blue eyes locking on to the peaceful horizon.

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah,” Iolaus sighed, sparing a glance at his friend. “I just don’t understand, Herc.”

“Understand what?”

“Voleta, and the way she changed. I mean, when Fortune took my memory I did some things I wasn’t proud of. Things I never would have done if I’d been myself. But deep down I was still basically the same person. You know, the core of me didn’t change. But with Voleta, it was like night and day. I keep going back and forth. To the way she looked up on that bridge when all she wanted was to end my life. And then right before she died, when she was holding that sword on me. She knew I was taking her to her death and all she had to do was kill me to save herself, but she couldn’t do it. She was willing to give up her own life rather than take mine. I just can’t understand it....”

“I wish I had an answer for you, but I don’t,” Hercules admitted after a long pause. “It’s something we’ll probably never understand.”

“When she attacked me on the bridge, I wasn’t surprised,” Iolaus continued. “It didn’t seem logical for her to risk her own life in the process, but it made sense to me. It was just her nature, and we’re all slaves to our nature. But which was her true nature? The way she was before the fall, or after? I keep wondering what happened to her. What her life was like to turn her into a killer. If it really was just the fall and the head injury that changed her, or if somewhere, really deep down, she was hiding a good person inside.”

“I don’t know, buddy,” the demigod said, realizing that his partner was wrestling with some deep questions, ones that he couldn’t answer. Which meant nothing he could say would be of any help or consolation to his friend. Iolaus was just going to have to work through this one on his own. “Everything isn’t always black or white, and things can get pretty hazy in the gray area sometimes.”

“I know you probably think I’m crazy,” the hunter ventured, stealing another glance at his friend. “Obsessing so much over a woman who was determined to kill me.”

“No, I don’t think you’re crazy, Iolaus,” Hercules reassured him. “You care a lot about people and you want to believe the best about them, and that’s a great quality to have.”

“So, you think it’s ok then for me to believe that even if Voleta had gotten her memory back she would have turned her back on her violent past and stayed the way she was?”

“I don’t see the harm in it,” Hercules grinned, happy to see his partner’s optimism returning for it meant that Iolaus was going to be fine. He slung an arm around his friend’s shoulders in a companionable gesture. “In fact, I think that’s what I’m going to believe, too.”

“Thanks, Herc.” Iolaus looked back out over the calm sea, silently offering up a prayer to Hades to ask for leniency on Voleta’s behalf and hoping that she could somehow find peace on the other side. And then he metaphorically released all his questions, questions to which he’d never know the answers, to the wind. He felt lighter as he pushed away from the ship’s railing, declaring his intent to seek out something to eat. It was a brief, fleeting moment in time, but the hunter knew the extenuating circumstances would quickly cease to matter. He would always remember Voleta fondly, helping him set snares, mimicking his Eastern exercises, gently taking care of his wounds, and shooting him that sweet, teasing smile. She wasn’t long for the world, at least in that form, but Iolaus was glad he’d known her. And he would always remember her as a friend.

Finis

Stories by Quiet Wolf
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