Author’s Note: This story takes place following the episode “Hero’s Heart” and contains spoilers for several others. I do not claim any ownership on Herc, Iolaus or the rest of the gang and no copyright infringement is intended. Dengus and his club are ensuring I’m not profiting from this tale. Comments are always welcome.
The night was balmy, peaceful, and quiet. A little too quiet, Hercules noted as he picked up the long stick beside him and stirred the flagging blaze of their campfire back to life. He glanced at his partner, who was lounging comfortably on the ground beside him, though the blue eyes that stared absently into the renewed flames were somewhere far away.
“What’s wrong?”
The hunter jumped slightly, the words startling him out of his reverie. Then he looked up at his friend and gave a casual shrug of the shoulders.
“Nothing. I was just thinking.”
“About that woman on the bridge?” the demigod asked gently.
“No,” Iolaus confessed, feeling a little guilty that he wasn’t. But although he knew he’d never forget the face of the woman he failed to save, it was time to try and put it behind him and move on. He’d done his best to help her, and he was just going to have to learn to live with that. “No, I was thinking about something else.”
“What was it?” Hercules prompted. His friend looked so serious, he obviously had something heavy weighing on his mind, and the demigod wanted to help if he could.
“It’s just that...” The hunter sighed and pulled himself up to a sitting position, wrapping his arms around his knees as his gaze drifted back to the fire. “Zeno saw something in me, Herc. Something special. He didn’t even know me, but he had enough confidence in me to make me his number one man. The only other person that’s ever seen me that way has been Xena, back when she wanted to kill you. She thought I had the skills to do that.”
“Where are you going with this?”
“I’m out there every day, risking my life to save people from warlords or mercenaries or the toys of the gods. But I might as well be invisible. They look right through me. And those that do manage to look past you and see me don’t take me seriously. I’m not even your partner or your friend. Just ‘the guy with Hercules’. I just don’t get why it’s only ever the bad guys that can see me for what I can do.”
“Are you still obsessing on that?” the demigod asked rhetorically. “The work we do is appreciated.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Iolaus argued defensively. “Everywhere we go, you get the glory heaped on you. I stick my neck out just as much as you do.”
“I know that...”
“Well nobody else does!”
“Iolaus, you are a hero, and people do see you that way,” Hercules tried to placate him.
“Well, it would be nice to know it,” the hunter muttered. “Look, I don’t want glory. That’s not why I’m here fighting at your side. But a ‘thanks’ now and again would be nice. I risk my life for these people, and I don’t ask for much. Maybe a meal or a drink here and there. It would just be good to get a little acknowledgment. All I want is for people to look at me and see me. A warrior with something to contribute. Instead of just some guy always tagging along in your shadow all the time, picking up the crumbs you drop.”
“I understand how you feel...”
“No, you don’t,” Iolaus interrupted him. “You... You’re legend. I’m a footnote, at best. And even you take me for granted.”
“Fine,” the demigod said shortly, deciding that his friend had made up his mind he wanted to sulk and there would be no talking him out of it. “From now on, I’ll make sure you’re included.”
“Don’t bother,” the hunter snapped. “On top of being ignored, I don’t need you patronizing me.”
“Well then what do you want me to do?” Hercules asked in frustration.
“Nothing.”
“Where are you going?” the demigod demanded as his friend rose and began striding away from their campsite.
“For a walk,” Iolaus called over his shoulder. “I need some air.”
“Air?” Hercules snorted, lifting a hand and waving it around in emphasis. “All we have around here is air.”
The demigod thought about going after his partner, but then he decided it would be best to let him go and work off a little steam. He’d been tense since they’d left Taphos, and Hercules hoped that maybe a long walk in the woods would give him the opportunity to come to grips with whatever was bothering him. So he rose and stretched, feeling the twinge in his shoulder. It had been troubling him ever since he’d been dragged behind the runaway wagon on the way to Nemea. Hercules rotated his arm a few times experimentally and decided to walk down to the lake. The night was plenty warm enough, and he figured that a brisk swim would go a long way in easing the stiffness in his shoulder. And then maybe Iolaus would be back by the time he returned to the fire, and they’d both be relaxed enough to pick up where they’d left off and try to find a solution for what was upsetting the hunter.
Iolaus stomped through the forest, not paying attention to where he was going. The thick blanket of night was well upon them, but a bright, full moon gave the experienced woodsman more than enough light to see by. He was scarcely aware of his surroundings anyway, pushing through the underbrush blindly as he nursed his hurt feelings.
Zeno was a criminal. He had a little class and style, true, but in the end he was nothing but a hood who lived only to line his pockets and expand his reputation. And yet, the hunter couldn’t deny that he had experienced a sort of perverse pleasure in the fact that the savvy man had singled him out. Had seen his potential, and wanted him on his team. It just plain felt good to be in the limelight for once. After years of living in Hercules’ shadow, being overlooked, ignored, forgotten, and even mocked on occasion, someone had recognized his skills and applauded his abilities. And it stung that a criminal could see his talents, when people whose lives he’d just saved couldn’t even remember his name.
He had spoken the truth to Hercules. Iolaus didn’t want glory. He didn’t want the fame or the shrines or the ceremonies that were showered upon his half-god friend. The hunter had devoted his life to fighting at his partner’s side solely because it was the right thing to do. Battling injustice and protecting the innocent was all he’d ever cared about. But living that life had cost him dearly over the years. Excruciating physical and mental pain, hardships, sacrifice... And after he had given everything he had to give, it just started to wear on him when he didn’t get anything back. But what hurt the most was that his partner, his best friend, and the one who should have been able to see this and understand, didn’t. Iolaus knew he didn’t mean it, but when Hercules brushed his feelings aside without even trying to find a little empathy, it was like a smack in the face.
But the figurative smack in the face quickly became the least of the hunter’s worries as a twig snapping jolted his attention back to his surroundings. Iolaus froze, listening carefully. Nothing was visible in the shadowy forest, but his heart sank as his senses told him he was not alone. They were out there, a lot of them, and they had him surrounded.
“You might as well come out,” he spoke up, forcing his tense posture to relax into an easy fighting stance. “I know you’re there.”
After a long pause, stealthy figures began easing out from between the trees. They moved in closer, but hung back, seemingly awaiting a sign from their leader. One man moved forward, approaching the hunter with a deadly stalking gait. And as he came to stand in front of Iolaus, recognition set in and he knew he was in deep trouble.
“Remember me?”
“Sure,” the hunter answered affably, outwardly showing no signs of the nervousness that was starting to build within. “Dengus, wasn’t it?”
“You cheated me out of a lot of money,” the man said menacingly. “And I want it back.”
“Well, you see, I left my money pouch back at my campsite,” Iolaus told him. ‘Along with my sword and a guy with divine strength,’ he added silently to himself.
“Well, then, we’ll just have to take it out of your hide.”
The hunter knew that Dengus wasn’t after him for the money he ‘won’ during their card game. Rather, he was looking for revenge for the public humiliation he’d suffered. Glancing around, Iolaus knew he wasn’t going to be able to fight his way free. There were just too many of them. His only hope was to try and talk himself out of it, and from the way the motley group was starting to move in, he figured he’d better talk fast.
“Look, Dengus,” he began, deciding to go the truth route. “I’m really sorry about what happened. But that wasn’t the real me. One of the gods put a spell on me and I wasn’t acting like myself...”
A savage blow to the back caught him by surprise and Iolaus dropped to his knees, gasping and clasping a hand to his throbbing kidneys. But only for a moment. Then he was back up and lashing out, sending his attackers scrambling back from his stinging blows. The hunter whirled and kicked and punched for all his was worth, and he actually began to think he might get out of this alive. But then the gang regrouped and concentrated their forces, and despite his valiant efforts, Iolaus went down. They kept at him long after he’d stilled, until Dengus finally ordered them to stop. He stood above the prone figure, leering down at him menacingly as he hoisted his giant club high in the air.
“Who’s the loser now?”
Hercules broke the surface of the lake and hesitated, thinking he’d heard something. He waited, treading water, but the sound didn’t repeat itself so he dove back under and continued swimming with strong, powerful strokes.
The demigod emerged from the water a short time later, feeling much refreshed and satisfied that his shoulder had loosened up considerably. He grabbed his clothes from where he’d left them on the bank of the lake and made his way back to camp, a bit surprised to find that Iolaus wasn’t back yet. The fire was almost out but he quickly stirred it back up, adding wood from the small pile they’d gathered earlier that evening. His damp skin dried quickly in the warmth of the flames and Hercules got dressed, flicking the wet hair out of his eyes as he settled back down onto the blanket he’d draped over some pine boughs to serve as a bed. He felt relaxed and he sighed contentedly as he watched the stars, but as the minutes passed by his relaxation began to fade. Iolaus had been gone a long time.
Hercules was well acquainted with the infinite degree of his friend’s stubbornness. The hunter would happily spend the whole night alone in the woods just to prove a point. But the demigod, while not quite sure what his friend’s point was, was reasonably sure that this time it wasn’t one to be made by sulking out in the woods. He also knew his partner was perfectly capable of handling himself. But the forest was dark, and potentially dangerous. Hercules sat up, absently poking at the fire as he weighed his options. Iolaus hated it when he came after him, as if he couldn’t be trusted to take care of himself. But what if he had gotten in trouble and needed help? Injured pride would take a back seat to injured body. A glance to the hunter’s sword, resting on top of his pack, made up the demigod’s mind for him. If it turned out that he was just overreacting, then he’d just have to deal with his friend’s insulted, wounded air. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to rest until he made sure his partner was all right.
Normally, tracking Iolaus was never an easy task, especially in the dark. But the hunter’s irritation had made him careless, and he had left a clear trail to follow. Hercules retraced his friend’s steps, and his worry grew the farther he went. Iolaus definitely should have returned before now.
His worry was confirmed as he spied several more trails in the underbrush. The ends of the branches broken off the small bushes were wet, indicating that whoever had come that way had done so very recently. And the angle showed it to be in the opposite direction from where he was headed. Hercules quickened his pace, no longer able to ignore the half-god feeling of dread that had been building in his gut since he’d gotten out of the lake. Something bad had befallen Iolaus, of that much he was sure.
Hercules found his friend lying on the ground, the flattened underbrush telling the story of a wild battle. Iolaus had evidently put up a good fight, but in the end it hadn’t been good enough. As he knelt beside his partner to examine him, the demigod realized how lucky he’d been to find the hunter alive. He had been brutally beaten and left for dead, which didn’t appear to be too far off. A torrent of emotion welled up inside him, but Hercules beat it back. There would be time later to rage and grieve and pray and plead. But at the moment, Iolaus was clinging to life by a thread. And if he stood any chance at all of hanging on to it, then Hercules had to get him to the one person that could help.
Iolaus placed his hands on his hips as he slowly spun in a circle, taking in his surroundings. He was in the middle of a vast field, knee deep in lush green grass that was dotted with bright sunflowers and delicate purple wildflowers. The sky was awash with a brilliant orange light cast by the setting sun, silhouetting the mountains that clustered protectively around the wide field. It was a beautiful sight, but foreign, and all that he could see from every direction. The last thing the hunter knew he had been fighting Dengus and his friends, so he could only conclude that he must have lost the battle and had crossed over to the other side. Although it wasn’t quite how he remembered the Elysian Fields from his previous visit.
“Greetings, Iolaus.”
The hunter jumped at the unexpected voice and turned to see a man standing behind him. He was tall and broad shouldered, with thick blond hair and piercing blue eyes that looked down a straight, aristocratic nose at him. The man was dressed in white robes, with a gold breastplate and gauntlets, and he carried himself regally, as if he were royalty. And he most certainly had not been there moments before.
“Who are you?” Iolaus demanded.
“A friend.”
“How do you know my name?”
“I know many things,” the stranger replied cryptically.
“Ok,” the hunter drawled, taking a step closer as he sized up his mysterious “friend”. “Let’s try three for three. What is this place?”
“A crossroads.”
“Right,” Iolaus sighed, his gaze darting across the landscape and failing to see any sort of road or trail among the sea of flowers. “Look, ‘friend’, it’s been a rough day. And I’m really not in the mood for riddles, so if you could just...”
“You are confused because you are asking the wrong questions,” the stranger interrupted him.
“Naturally.” The hunter ran a hand wearily over his face, knowing he’d probably regret asking. “So what are the right questions?”
“Where you are and who I am are not important to you. At least not now. What you should be concerned with is why you are here.”
“Ok, I’ll bite,” Iolaus told him gamely. “So tell me, why am I here?”
“You have come to the crossroads because there is a choice before you,” the man revealed. “You must decide whether to go back or move forward.”
“What does that mean?” the hunter challenged, growing irritated. “Look, just give me a straight answer. Am I dead or what?”
“That is not important.”
“No, it is.” Iolaus had to chuckle mirthlessly at the absurdity of his situation. “I happen to think it is very important, actually.”
“Your mortal body still lives,” the man replied patiently.
“All right, now we’re getting somewhere,” the hunter sighed, this time in relief. “So if I’m not dead, what is this about going back and forward?”
“It is the choice before you. Return to your old life, or go on and embrace your new destiny.”
“I don’t understand...”
“A greater destiny awaits you, Iolaus. You have been chosen because of the power of your heart and the strength of your spirit.”
“Chosen for what?”
“To be a Guardian. It is a noble position of honor, and only a very few are worthy enough to earn it. As a servant of the Light, you will become a protector for the innocent and a weapon against evil in a capacity too broad for you to understand now, but all will be made known to you in time. This is the destiny that waits for you to embrace it. And this choice has always been before you, Iolaus. You never realized it, for the ties to your mortal life were so strong your decision was always automatic. But now your soul is weary with mortal trappings, and it tells me that you may be ready to forsake your past and move forward to new pastures.”
“I admit I’ve been having some doubts lately,” the hunter confessed. “But as far as forsaking all I’ve ever known and embracing some mysterious destiny...”
“You would be protecting people,” the man told him. “But as a whole, instead of one life at a time. Can you deny that you’ve wished for that type of power?”
“Well, no,” Iolaus hedged. While he had never wanted to be a god, he’d found himself desiring their strength and power more than once, often wishing that he could restore a village as easily as they could flatten it.
“And what remains in your mortal life that can equal that? What is there that is worth the pain you’ll feel if you return? You said yourself that you wanted a fresh start, and a new life. I can give you that. A life beyond your wildest dreams.”
The hunter hung his head, feeling an ache building in his temples to mirror the one in his heart. Hercules was worth going back for. But was that enough? He loved his friend more than anything, but returning to him would mean returning to pain and grief and a world where he was unappreciated no matter how hard he worked or what he had to sacrifice. And a world where people died because of his mortal limitations and his inability to be the hero that his friend was. If the man beside him was to be believed, going forward meant a new life that would have meaning, where he would have the power to help people, really help them. And maybe even the power to protect Hercules, to watch his back in a broader capacity and stop Ares and Hera before they could even start.
“It is not an easy choice,” the man told him, slipping an arm around his shoulders. Iolaus could feel the power and strength emanating from him, but his embrace was surprisingly gentle, even comforting. “Come with me. I want to show you something before you decide.”
Taking a deep breath, the hunter blew it out slowly. Years at Hercules’ side had landed him in all manner of bizarre situations, and he’d long since learned that when the unexpected happened, it was easiest just to go with the flow. So without much reservation, he let his strange new friend lead him off through the field, although there was one small point he needed to clear up.
“I know it’s of no importance and all, but you do have a name, don’t you?”
The man’s lips twitched slightly, as if he were holding back a smile.
“You may call me Michael. Messenger of the Light.”
Hercules paced in tight, anxious circles, wearing a path in the grass in front of the temple. He had excused himself before Asclepias could throw him out, knowing from past experience that his cousin did not like an audience while he worked, especially nervous, hovering demigods. But he had been out there a long time and the waiting was definitely starting to get to him. He tried to console himself that, given the state Iolaus had been in when they’d arrived, no news was good news. But the longer he paced, the more worried he became, until finally the rising sun heralded the arrival of the healer.
“You can come in and see him for a few minutes,” Asclepias said tiredly. The demigod eagerly followed him inside, past the main altar of the temple and back to a simple, quiet treatment room where Iolaus lay.
“How’s he doing?” Hercules demanded as he folded himself onto the small stool that was next to his partner’s bed.
“It doesn’t look good,” the healer replied bluntly. “It’s a miracle that he’s made it this far.”
“Yes, but...” The demigod swallowed hard and looked up at his cousin with fear in his eyes. “But since he’s still alive, that means he has a chance, right? I mean, this is Iolaus, after all. It wouldn’t be the first time he pulled off the impossible.”
“Keep an eye on him,” Asclepias told him, deliberately not answering. “I need to go and get some more herbs.”
The healer left the room, shaking his head slightly. He’d treated the pair of heroes many times over the years, for injuries minor and major. Hercules’ divine blood gave him an edge, but Asclepias was repeatedly amazed by the small mortal’s capacity to sustain, endure, and recover from damage. Although this time, if Iolaus managed to pull through, it really would be pulling off the impossible. When he returned, the healer paused for a moment outside the room, listening to his cousin talking quietly to his friend.
“You have to stay with me, Iolaus. Just hang on, buddy. I know you can do it. Just keep fighting, and whatever you do, don’t let go.”
“Hercules, you shouldn’t do that.”
“Do what?” The demigod looked up in surprise as his cousin entered the room.
“Iolaus would do anything you asked him to,” Asclepias said softly. “If you ask him to hang on, he’ll fight with everything he has.”
“And what’s wrong with that?”
“Look at him,” the healer snapped, losing some of his patience. “He’s got more broken bones than whole ones, and I can only guess at the extent of his internal injuries. If he lives, it will be months, maybe years of unimaginable pain and I doubt he’ll ever physically be the man he was. That’s if he lives, and I don’t think he will. But he’ll try, for you.”
The demigod reeled as if he’d been punched, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. Asclepias moved forward, putting a hand on his shoulder as his gruff demeanor faded away. Years of tending to the pair had shown him that they shared a very deep bond, and he knew just how hard the death of his partner would hit his cousin.
“Hercules, if you really love him, then tell him it’s all right to let go,” he advised gently. “Let him know it’s ok to leave you, and give him a chance to end his suffering. Tell him it’s ok to stop fighting now.”
The demigod looked up at his cousin, blinking hard against the tears burning his eyes as he struggled to get the words out.
“I don’t know if I can.”
“What is this?” Iolaus asked as a large structure suddenly loomed up before them.
“See for yourself,” Michael told him, waving a hand in invitation for him to explore.
The hunter began walking around to the front of the statue, but he paused as he spied a man there, busily polishing the gleaming stone. He finished his task, stepping back and tucking the cloth into a pouch at his waist, and Iolaus realized that he knew the sculptor.
“Thanis!” he cried out, happy to see a familiar face. But the man didn’t acknowledge him, his gaze fixed on his creation, his expression a strange mixture of sorrowful pride.
“This is perhaps my best work ever,” he murmured softly. “And yet the commission that I’ll regret for the rest of my life. Cold stone cannot capture the man that you were, but it was my great honor to try. I’ll miss you, my friend.”
“Thanis, wait!” Iolaus called out as the sculptor turned and began walking off. “Where are you going?” He started to follow, but stopped as he got his first look at the front of the statue. “That’s me,” he said in surprise, glancing over his shoulder to see that Thanis had disappeared. So instead he turned back to Michael, his intense blue eyes searching the man’s unreadable face for answers. “What’s the deal? Thanis couldn’t hear me, and I’m standing in front of my own memorial. I thought you said I wasn’t dead!”
“Your mortal body lives,” Michael assured him. “This is a glimpse of what is to come if you should embrace your new destiny. Those in the realm of the Light can hear the thoughts of those they’ve left behind in the mortal world. Think of this as a preview of what you’ll experience if you decide to move forward.”
“But why?” Iolaus asked. “Why now? Why me?”
“Because once you join us as a Guardian, there is no going back,” Michael said ominously. “No matter how many regrets you suffer. Your decision must be an informed one from the heart, not a hasty one from a weary soul. So pay attention and listen, and remember all that you see and hear. Starting with them.”
The hunter glanced behind him, following Michael’s nod, and he grinned broadly as he recognized two people he dearly loved approaching. But his smile faded as they moved closer and stopped before his monument. Jason looked older, his handsome features aged with grief. And Alcmene’s lovely face was marred with heartbreak, tears flooding from her eyes as she leaned heavily on her husband’s arm for support.
“You were like a son to me, Iolaus,” she choked out, her normal stoic calm shattered by her loss. “And I loved you with all my heart. After Iphicles left, you were the best thing for Hercules. And for me. I don’t know what we’re going to do without you.” Alcmene broke down, crumpling into Jason’s embrace as the sobs overtook her, and the sight made the hunter’s heart ache.
“I”m not dead, Alcmene,” he said desperately, taking a step closer to stand beside her. He reached out to touch her, but his hand passed through her shoulder and he whirled back around to face Michael. “Stop this,” he begged, for he couldn’t bear to see his surrogate mother in such pain. “Please, just stop!”
“Watch and listen,” Michael commanded sternly, his steely eyes showing no shred of sympathy. “And remember.”
Helplessly, Iolaus turned back to his friends, seeing that Jason’s eyes were wet as he gazed at the statue.
“You were always a loyal friend, Iolaus,” the Argonaut spoke as he absently patted his wife, knowing there was no comfort to be had for her. “Both to Corinth, and to me. I can’t tell you what it meant to me to have someone I could always count on and could trust with my life. But even more than that, you were a friend to me outside of the crown. I didn’t have to be the king around you.” Jason grinned slightly, his mind awash with memories. “You wouldn’t let me be the king around you. And for that I was always grateful. You were a brave and honorable man, my friend, and Greece is definitely going to be a lot less interesting without you in it.” His grin vanished and he swiped a hand over his damp eyes. “And we’re all going to be feeling your loss for a long, long time.”
Jason turned and led Alcmene away, and Iolaus couldn’t stand to watch them go. But a carriage was approaching from the west, so he focused his attention on the new arrival and tried to forget about the pain his old friends were suffering, since he was powerless at the moment to do anything about it. The carriage stopped a few feet from the statue, and the driver swung down to open the door and help the occupant climb out. And the hunter’s breath caught in his throat as Niobe elegantly stepped down into the grass, her long gown swirling around her. She came forward, as regal and composed and beautiful as ever, but Iolaus could see that there was no sparkle in her somber brown eyes.
“I can’t help thinking that if you had stayed with me in Attica, this wouldn’t have happened,” she said quietly, laying a hand gently on the base of his shrine. “You’d still be alive.” The queen was quiet for several minutes before she continued. “But you wouldn’t have been happy. I know that. Your place was with Hercules, protecting mankind.” Niobe smiled up at the friendly face etched in stone, the mirror image of the husband that she could not love completely because she had already given her heart to his cousin. “And even though I can’t help feeling selfish and wishing you had chosen me, I admire you for what you did, and you have my respect.” The queen bent down before the memorial and kissed the base of the statue. “And you’ll always have my love.”
Her guards had followed her out of the carriage, and Linus stepped forward to take her arm and escort her back. But Hector remained where he was, bowing to the memory of the man who he had once served as king.
“Nobility is not a birthright, Iolaus,” he said. “Rather it’s defined by one’s actions. And you were the noblest man it’s ever been my honor to serve. I would have been proud to call you king, but I’m even more proud to call you friend. May you find peace on the other side.”
The hunter watched the carriage until it was out of sight, not for the first time wondering what might have been, but also knowing that he had been right in his decision to leave Attica. He did love Niobe, but he couldn’t give up his life at Hercules’ side to forever impersonate his slain cousin, not even for her. With a sigh, Iolaus ran a hand through his hair and turned around, startling as he saw two more people were already there at his memorial.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Gabrielle asked. “It looks just like him.” For a moment she was lost in the beauty of the sculpture, which depicted Iolaus in minute detail. He was holding his sword, but loosely at his side, and his face held the expression of carefree abandon. For those that didn’t know him, the statue gave the impression of a warrior with kind eyes that almost seemed to sparkle with life. But for those that knew Iolaus, they could see his personality leaping out of the rock. The deadly warrior skills that were always a defensive last resort. His bravery and honor and nobility, tempered with his energy and humor and sense of fun. Wild curls, corded muscles, sunny grin that could light up the gloom... even down to the treasured medallion around his neck. His compassion and his integrity and his charm were all there, reflecting from the polished stone that was larger than life, just like the hunter had been. The only thing missing was the man who inspired it all, and this thought hit Gabrielle hard as her momentary appreciation of Thanis’ talent faded and she remembered the reason for the memorial.
“I’ll always regret that we never had more time together,” she said, gazing up at the carved face and remembering how the blue eyes had shone with warmth and life. “I would have liked to have gotten to know you better, Iolaus. But I’ll never forget what little time we did have. You made me feel special, and you taught me how to trust my own heart.” Gabrielle glanced down at the staff in her hands. “You were my inspiration. You showed me that I could be a real partner to Xena, instead of just tagging along behind her. I never would have tried learning how to fight if you hadn’t made me believe that I could. I owe you that. I think we both owe you that.”
Gabrielle sighed heavily and moved back, giving her friend some privacy to say the things she never could have told Iolaus while he was alive, although she was left wishing she had.
“You forgave me,” Xena whispered, her gaze fixed on the stone sword for she couldn’t quite meet his eyes, even ones carved from rock. “I didn’t deserve it, but you forgave me. More than that, you offered me your friendship. That meant everything to me.” The warrior princess sighed, kicking at the base of the memorial with the toe of her boot, and then she made herself face the man she’d so grievously wronged. In a lifetime of deplorable acts, that one cut her deeper than any of the others. “You and Hercules inspired me to turn my life around,” she continued. Xena was sure it was her imagination, but she could have almost sworn she saw a flash in the stone eyes, as if the hunter were telling her there was nothing to forgive. “I’ll always be grateful to both of you for showing me how to live. You were a true warrior, Iolaus. Greece will miss you.” She started to walk away, then turned back, the neutral mask she often wore slipping away to reveal her sorrow. “Take care of him, Hades,” Xena said gently.
“Wow,” Iolaus murmured, a bit taken aback to see the warrior princess’s feelings laid bare. He had no idea she felt that strongly about him, and the fact that she would physically mourn him took him by surprise. But that shock paled in comparison to the one his next visitor produced. A blinding flash of light announced the god of war, and the hunter automatically moved forward, forgetting he was incorporeal and could not stop Ares from blasting his memorial to bits. But the god was not there for destruction, but rather to pay his respects. Iolaus had continuously been a thorn in his side and Ares couldn’t really say he was sad to see him gone, but as the god of war he couldn’t help but admire the scrappy mortal’s battle skills and his courageous fighting heart. Hefting a sword in the air, Ares plunged it down into the earth next to the statue until just the hilt and a bit of blade were protruding, marking the memorial as that of a great warrior.
“Ok, I’ve seen enough,” Iolaus announced to Michael as the god of war vanished as abruptly as he’d appeared.
“You have not yet begun,” Michael argued, waving a hand. The hunter turned to see the horizon swarming with people. Crowds of them advancing to his memorial to both mourn and celebrate his life and deeds. Already feeling overwhelmed, Iolaus turned back to Michael, hoping to catch some slack. But the stern figure was non-relenting. “Watch, and remember.”
“Hey buddy,” Hercules murmured as he slid onto the stool next to his friend’s bedside. “I’m back.” The demigod sighed, running a weary hand through his hair as he stared down at the beloved, battered face of his partner. “You know, after what happened in Taphos, when you said you wanted a new life, I wasn’t worried. You were upset, but I knew you’d never really walk away. You’re a hero, Iolaus, and you fight for what’s right and you live to help people. You couldn’t give that up even if you wanted to. And I knew you’d never walk away from me. As soon as real trouble popped up, you’d be right there, watching my back like you’ve done ever since we were kids.” Hercules sighed again, his gaze drifting off to the fire dancing in the hearth as he forced himself to face the bitter truth. “But Asclepias is right,” he went on, his voice heavy with pain. “This time, for once, you have to put yourself ahead of me. If you want to hold on and fight to come back, then you know I’m here with you every step of the way. But don’t do it because you think I want you to. I don’t want to lose you, but I don’t want to see you suffer, either. So don’t fight to hold on for me. If you have a chance at peace, take it.”
The demigod closed his eyes briefly, swallowing past the lump in his throat as he collected his thoughts to say what he now realized was long overdue. “But I can’t let you leave without first telling you what it’s meant to me having you by my side all these years.” It wasn’t something easily put into words, but taking a deep breath, Hercules did his best.
Lydia, the girl who had gone looking for Hercules but who had found a different hero, one that far surpassed her wildest expectations, used an old hunter’s trick to light the small oil lamp she’d placed at the base of the memorial, tearfully lighting his fire for the last time.
Iolaus sat in the grass, watching her leave and not surprised when no one else came forward to take her place. The parade had been going on for what seemed like an eternity, and his memorial was surrounded with flowers and trinkets and food and enough dinars for him to get across the River Styx and back several times over. Good friends, people he barely remembered, and villagers he didn’t know had come to mourn his loss. Buddies that thanked him for his friendship. Woman who had basked in his love and who would always save a little piece of their hearts for him. Fellow warriors who admired his bravery and skills and leadership. Those he didn’t even think liked him came forward out of respect for his abilities and his consideration. And all those nameless villagers... he didn’t know them, and they didn’t always remember his name, but they all knew the friend of Hercules who had battled the monster or the warlord or the angry god threatening them. Risking his life, asking nothing in return, with his only reward the satisfaction that came from the knowledge that he was able to help those that couldn’t help themselves. And now that the tribute was over, Iolaus was left with the stunning realization that those who overlooked him or ignored him or even mocked him were few, and that those that did appreciate his efforts were truly the majority, even if they didn’t always show it.
“And now the time of your decision is at hand,” Michael told him. Throughout it all he had stood rigid and silent, but now he moved to stare down at the hunter. “Will you come forward and embrace your destiny as a Guardian of the Light?”
“I don’t know,” Iolaus replied as he got to his feet, growing annoyed. “You can’t just spring all this on me and then demand an answer. I need some time to think.”
“You don’t need time,” Michael responded. “The answer is in your heart. What is it telling you?”
“I don’t know,” the hunter snapped. The show of love and support from half of Greece had deeply touched him, strengthening his tie to the moral world. But he was also starting to feel the pull from another direction. The longer he spent at the mysterious crossroads, the more he began to feel power pulsing all around him, the power that would be his as a Guardian. He had no idea what this Light was, but he began to sense it. It was warm and comforting, an all encompassing peace and a perfect bliss that he felt himself yearning to know. And with the power of the Light, he could protect and look after everyone he left behind in ways he never could as a mortal. But though he wanted to take Michael up on his offer, something was still holding him back from saying ‘yes’. “Something’s missing,” Iolaus blurted out suddenly.
“You have received tribute from your fellow mortals, the likes of which I have never seen in all my existence. Yet that is not enough? You desire more?”
“No,” the hunter protested. “I don’t mean... It’s just that... I have to know....”
Michael’s stern features never wavered, but something in his eyes softened.
“You have watched and you have listened,” he began, pleased that his companion was beginning to understand. “And you have learned.”
“Learned what?” Iolaus asked.
“What you seek is behind you.”
The hunter turned around and found the answer to his question. It wasn’t an easy lesson, but what he learned was that when all was said and done, there was only one person whose opinion mattered and whose approval he sought. And at the end of the day, there was only one person whose love he wanted. The one man who exceeded everything good and bad in the mortal world and beyond. And that man was currently standing with his back to the memorial, his arms wrapped tightly around his chest, his shoulders hunched and his head bowed with grief.
“Hercules,” Iolaus murmured, even though he knew his friend could not hear him. But the demigod’s head lifted, and the hunter hurried forward. “Herc?”
He gave no sign of hearing, his eyes staring off into the horizon. But the look on his face made the hunter’s blood run cold. He had seen Hercules half insane with rage and sorrow after Deianeira and the children were killed. And he had seen his friend beaten down with grief and guilt after Serena was murdered. But he had never seen him like this. A torment that ran too deep for tears. Pain that overpowered any emotion. Suffering from a loss that left him an empty shell. His heart still beat, and his lungs still filled with air. But there was no life in the son of Zeus. Inside he was just as dead as his slain partner.
“I’ve been telling myself that this was for the best,” Hercules said hollowly. “That you’re at peace now, in a place where you’ll never grow old and you’ll never be hurt again.” The demigod bowed his head once more, his strong frame trembling under the weight of his agony.
“Herc, I’m sorry,” Iolaus whispered, waves of pain surging through him as he was forced to watch his friend’s torment.
“We both know that isn’t true.” Hercules turned around, looking up at the face of his partner etched in the stone. “It’s not better this way for either of us. I can’t believe that this was really your time. You and I have too much left to do. You just can’t be gone...” The demigod’s divine strength gave out and he collapsed to his knees, reaching out to hold onto the base of the shrine. “I know you’d want me to go on, but I don’t know if I can without you,” he continued in anguish. “When you left, you took the best part of me with you. You were my inspiration, Iolaus, and I always looked to you when things got hard. I can’t keep doing this without you by my side, pulling me through the rough spots. I need you. You never really believed that, but I do. I NEED you.”
The demigod leaned forward, burying his face in his hands as he rested against the base of the statue. And Iolaus again could only watch helplessly, his own heart breaking at the sight of his shattered friend. Finally Hercules got to his feet, pushing the hair back from his face as he took one final look at the memorial of his partner.
“You were my hero, Iolaus,” the demigod said softly. “And you always will be.”
“No more,” the hunter begged, turning to Michael, desperate to end his best friend’s suffering as much as his own. “Please, just stop this now.”
“You have made your decision?”
Iolaus paused, closing his eyes and trying to listen to his heart as he’d been told. And amid all the swirling thoughts and feelings and confusion, his answer was there. Hercules needed him. It was something he knew and felt deep within his soul. And even more than that, Greece still needed him. Not as a Guardian, but as a mortal. He had a destiny on earth, and that would have to be fulfilled before he could embrace his destiny with the Light. The hunter wasn’t sure how he knew, but he could sense it. Something big was on the horizon. A new threat, not only to Greece, but the world. One that only he and Hercules could stop. And Iolaus finally realized that although he had mortal limitations, he also had mortal strengths. Ones that had served him well in the past, and had served Hercules well, too. And ones that they were both going to need when the time came to face down this new enemy, who he had a feeling was going to be tougher than anything they’d ever been up against before. A great evil that he definitely couldn’t leave Hercules to face alone.
“I want to go back,” he declared, opening his eyes and meeting Michael’s gaze with a new confidence.
“Are you sure? There is much hardship and pain to be faced upon your return.”
“I know,” the hunter sighed. If Dengus and his friends had beaten him to near death, it didn’t take much imagination to see that his recovery was not going to be an easy one. “But I won’t have to face it alone.”
“Iolaus, I would greatly like to count you among the Guardians of the Light. And someday you will be ready to embrace this destiny. But you choose to carry on your work in the mortal realm, and your decision is granted. You will remember nothing of me, but I will permit you to keep your memories of your tribute. There are dark days ahead, and you will need to remember your faith. As it is, and as it shall be.”
“Here. Take it.”
Iolaus grinned, reaching out and accepting the last fish that his friend was holding out to him. After these near misses, Hercules tended to get a little overprotective, which drove him crazy. But the upside was that the demigod was also apt to give him more than his ration of food, toss him his blanket on cold nights, and let him slide on a few of the campsite chores they shared. So narrowly escaping death did have its advantages.
“Are you sure that Asclepias had nothing to do with this?” the hunter asked as he took a bite of the roasted trout.
“He seemed as shocked as I was when you woke up,” Hercules replied. “No, I don’t think it was his doing.”
“Maybe it was Fortune,” Iolaus suggested, licking his fingers. “You know, her way of making it up to me for the memory thing.”
“I don’t think healing is among her... talents,” the demigod said wryly. “Besides, if it were any one of the gods, I’m sure they would have shown up in person to brag.”
“Or demand a favor,” the hunter added, taking a drink from his water skin.
“Yeah.” Hercules was silent for a minute, then he looked across the fire at his partner with a fond smile. “But I’d say you have a friend out there somewhere, buddy.”
“I have more than one,” Iolaus murmured quietly. He had regained consciousness, finding himself completely healed and left with a few vague memories. Memories of a eulogy from all his friends and family and acquaintances. He was sure it had to have been a dream, but deep in his heart, he didn’t believe that. It all felt too genuine, too real. Someway, somehow, he had been given a glimpse into the minds and hearts of everyone he had ever crossed paths with in his life. Perhaps an added gift from the mysterious benefactor who had returned him to health.
“So you do know that,” the demigod said, holding his gaze. “I was starting to think you really didn’t know how many lives you’ve touched.”
“I’m learning,” the hunter replied. “But I’m also learning that it doesn’t matter.”
“Iolaus, I have to tell you something,” Hercules began, just a bit uncomfortably. “I’ve been thinking a lot about those last things we said to each other, before you...”
“Herc, it’s not important now.”
“Yes, it is. So just let me say it, ok?” The demigod took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “I thought you were dying, all right? That was bad enough, but the thought that you could go with that fight being the last words we’d have tore me up. It just made me sick to think that I had let you leave without ever telling you how I really felt.”
“I know...”
“I don’t think you do,” Hercules interrupted. “And even if you do, I still need to say this. You were right, Iolaus. I do take you for granted, and I’m sorry for that. And I apologize for not trying to understand how you feel. But mostly I’m sorry for not ever telling you what you mean to me. You amaze me. Every day. And I hate the fact that other people can’t see that, and that the extraordinary things you do get lost behind the shadow of my so called legend.” He paused, seeking out his friend’s humble eyes, his voice heavy with emotion when he continued. “And I hate that people can’t see that I would be nothing if I didn’t have you standing beside me.”
“Thank you, Hercules,” Iolaus whispered, his blue eyes shining in the firelight. “That means a lot to me.” The hunter glanced away, clearing his throat. “But if I had died, I still would have known. And that’s all that matters. I really don’t care what anyone else thinks. I mean, it’s nice to be appreciated and respected and I’d still like a ‘thank you’ here and there. But when it comes right down to it, you and I know how we feel about each other. And that’s really enough for me.”
“Me, too.” But the demigod realized that he had been blinded to how his avoidance of adulation had often led to his partner being robbed of his rightful heroism. And he vowed to put an end to it. In the future, he would make sure that the people they helped would know exactly how valuable his friend was to the process. Villagers tended to overlook the hunter, because they never wanted to believe the mighty Hercules couldn’t tackle impossible feats single handedly. But the demigod could have cared less about his image and his reputation. From that moment on, he was going to do everything in his power to make sure his partner got his proper hero’s due.
“Well, it’s late and I’m tired,” Iolaus announced as he stretched out on his blanket. “Coming back from the dead takes a lot out of a guy.” The hunter was quiet for a minute, wondering how much more coddling he could milk out of his friend. “This ground sure is hard, though. That can’t be good for recently shattered bones. Some pine boughs would really make a nice cushion.”
“There’s a tree right over there,” Hercules told him as he stirred up the fire and added another chunk of wood.
“I’m just feeling a little weak and I don’t know if I can lift the axe,” Iolaus replied, his voice reflecting a sudden weariness. “Hey, maybe you could just go over there and break a few branches off for me?”
“Iolaus, you’ve already escaped death once today. Don’t push your luck.”
“Fine,” the hunter said, rolling over to hide his grin from his friend’s sight. “But next time I die you’re going to remember this and feel guilty that you weren’t nicer to me.”
“That ‘next time’ is going to come sooner than you think if you don’t cut it out.”
“All right, all right. Night, Herc.”
“Good night, Iolaus.”
“And you can serve me my eggs poached in the morning.”
The hunter curled into a ball, pulling his blanket over his head a fraction of a second before the handful of acorns came raining down on top of him.
Finis
Disclaimer: Iolaus was unfortunately beaten to a pulp during the writing of this story, but the Light gladly restored him to his previous golden form.