Hero in Their Midst

“I want to go with you,” Iolaus repeated stubbornly, watching his friend pack up his belongings.

“Well, you can’t,” Hercules patiently explained for the fifth time. “Cheiron doesn’t think its necessary, and you know there’s no arguing with him.”

“How can he say that?” the blond cadet whined, getting up to pace around the dorm. “Alcmene is like a mother to me.”

“Iolaus, she just broke her leg. It’s not like she’s on her death bed, you know.” The demigod tied up his carry sack and slung it over his shoulder. “Cheiron only gave me a few days to go and make sure she has everything she needs until she’s up and around again.”

“What am I supposed to do while you’re gone?”

“What do you mean? You do what you normally do.”

“I know, but...” Iolaus dropped his head and began fiddling with his wrist bands. “You’re my partner, Herc.”

“So?” The demigod shrugged, a bit perplexed as to where his friend was going with all of this. “Jason will still be here, and all the other cadets. You can partner with somebody else for a couple of days.”

“I guess,” Iolaus sighed.

“All right, I’m out of here. And you better get going, or you’ll be late for class.”

“Yeah, yeah. Give Alcmene my love, ok?”

“I’ll be sure and tell her just how hard you tried to escape from this place for a few days to come and see her,” Hercules grinned, holding out his hand.

Iolaus grasped his partner’s forearm in a warrior’s shake and walked with him out of the dorms, watching him as he exited through the Academy gates and started down the road to Thebes. With a heavy sigh of resignation, the blond took off running through the Academy grounds, managing to slide into his seat in the classroom just in the nick of time. As Cheiron began his lecture, Iolaus let his mind wander off, glancing first to the empty seat next to him. The chair had been vacated since Lilith had gone off to rejoin the Amazons, and nobody had come to fill it. Unlike his partner’s chair. Iolaus had noticed that the seat behind him had already been claimed by another cadet, and that he and Jason were slyly passing notes to each other.

He snapped to attention, plastering a studious expression on his face as Cheiron looked over in his direction. But when the centaur looked away, Iolaus slumped down in his chair, wishing he didn’t feel so out of place. Hercules was one of the most popular guys in the class, and he didn’t seem to get that the rest of the cadets didn’t regard Iolaus the same was as they did him. At first, he was subjected to a lot of gossip and ridicule. Many of the cadets looked down upon him, since they were all sons of great fathers and he was just a lowlife thief. Not that he could really blame them, for he, himself, knew that it was true. But, with time, he managed to earn a grudging respect, since he was one of the best fighters in the class and he was a naturally charming good guy. And after a year, he had come to be seen as sort of a neutral party.

A few of the cadets still harbored petty resentments, but most of them generally liked him well enough. He was a great fighter, although he tended to walk through most of the drills, not overly bright, but good for a few laughs. And he hung around with Jason and Hercules, whom everyone liked and respected, and he had proven his bravery and his loyalty on more than one occasion. But while Iolaus was friendly with most of the cadets, he knew that they didn’t really consider themselves friends with him. Not real friends.

Even Jason. Oh, Iolaus knew that the young prince liked him and considered him a friend, and he felt the same way. But, that was largely through their joint association with Hercules. The former thief really didn’t have a lot in common with the future king of Corinth, and without the common thread of Hercules uniting them, they really didn’t have a whole lot to talk about. They had been through a few intense situations together over the past year, which created a natural shared bond between them. But Iolaus didn’t think that he and Jason would ever have the kind of friendship that the prince had with Hercules. People just didn’t tend to see him that way, with the exception of the demigod, of course. Only Hercules had ever been able to see past the bravado to the real Iolaus, who was kind and generous and loving, and the kind of friend that anyone would be proud to have. Or, maybe Hercules was the only person Iolaus had ever allowed to see that side of him. Regardless, the son of the great Zeus and the future king of Corinth were both *somebodies*, and though they might all be friends, Iolaus knew that a former thief and perennial screw up like himself could never be on equal footing with Hercules and Jason.

“Iolaus? Do you have a question?”

The blond cadet startled out of his silent musings to see the rest of the class exiting the room. He looked up at the centaur looming before him and mentally kicked himself.

“Um, no Cheiron. I was just thinking... about your lecture. Brilliant as always.”

“Well, if you’re done thinking,” the centaur said dryly, well used to the antics of the spirited cadet and not fooled for a second. “I believe you have stable duty this afternoon.”

“Not me, sir. That was Hercules.”

“Perhaps you could fill in for him?” he asked, although the cadet knew it was an order, not a request. “Since you seem to have already gotten a head start in shoveling it today.”

“Yes, Cheiron,” Iolaus sighed, pushing back his chair. The centaur swished his tail as he watched his student leave the room, and a small smile played about his normally stern features.

The afternoon passed by quickly, as Iolaus lost himself in cleaning the stables and caring for the Academy’s horses, feeling more at home there with the animals than he did anywhere else. The drills that afternoon also went well. He applied himself more than usual and mastered the new move Cheiron was teaching them in no time, using it to best several of his opponents, and getting a nod of approval from the centaur, as well as a few words of praise from the other cadets. But his good mood quickly disintegrated over dinner as he joined Jason and few other students at their table. They were all discussing some battle that King Aeson had led, one that Iolaus had never heard of, although he wouldn’t have been surprised if Cheiron had previously lectured about it. Having nothing to contribute, he sat silently, picking at his food, largely ignored until he took his tray and left the dining hall.

“What’s with him?” Jason wondered, but his companions just shrugged and went back to their meals.

The rising sun heralding a new day did nothing to alleviate the blond cadet’s building depression. He skipped breakfast all together, and was so subdued during morning drills that Cheiron even noticed and came over to ask him if he was feeling ill.

“Get a grip, Iolaus,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head as he put his practice staff away. “Hercules has only been gone a day, and you’re falling apart. You can do this without him here holding your hand.”

“Hey, Iolaus.” Jason came trotting back into the training room toward him. “Are you all right? You’ve been acting awful quiet lately.”

“Yeah, I’m fine, Jase. I’m just... worried about that test this afternoon,” Iolaus lied.

“Oh.” The prince relaxed and slapped a hand on his shoulder. “Well, why don’t you come to the dining hall with me? I’ll go over the information with you over lunch, if you want.”

“Thanks.” Iolaus couldn’t hold back a smile, though it was more for the show of camaraderie than for the offer of much needed help.

But the pair was intercepted before they could reach the dining hall by another cadet, who announced that Jason had a visitor waiting. A young man, clad in the wardrobe of a Corinthian guard, had a scroll from Ophistus, Jason’s most trusted advisor. He wrote that he could not go into detail, but there was trouble at the castle and Corinth needed her future king to return at once. The prince wasted no time in getting Cheiron’s permission to take a leave of absence and gathering up a few belongings, and he was rushing out of the Academy gates with the guard within minutes of receiving the scroll.

Iolaus went on alone to the dining hall, but as he sat down at an empty table with his meal, he found that he had no appetite. Something was distinctly bothering him. He had read the scroll over his friend’s shoulder, and it did, indeed, look like Ophistus’ writing. But whenever the advisor had sent messages to the prince in the past, they had come sealed with wax, impressed with the royal signet of Corinth, not bound with a ribbon. And that guard had not been acting right. Everything seemed normal outwardly, but the sharp eyed cadet had noticed that he kept his gaze averted whenever he spoke to the prince.

However, Iolaus knew that if he went after them, he would most likely miss afternoon classes, along with the test which he absolutely could not afford to fail. But he also knew something was very wrong with the situation that had just occurred with his friend, a feeling he instinctively felt deep in his gut. With a determined nod, the blond cadet pushed his tray aside and jumped up from the table, jogging out of the dining hall and speeding up to sprint out of the Academy gates. He had to at least find Jason and warn him of his fears and suspicions, whether or not they turned out to be valid.

“Come on, Prince,” the mercenary sneered. “Be a good little hostage and put the knife down.”

Jason remained where he was, tensed and poised, his dagger clasped firmly in his hand.

“Damn it, I thought you said he’d be easy,” the second mercenary shouted, wiping away the blood that was streaming into his eye from the gash he sported on his forehead.

“So, he learned a thing or two at the centaur’s Academy,” his companion shrugged. “But that’s not going to save him. You got in a few lucky shots, kid, but take a look around you. There’s five of us and only one of you. You don’t have a prayer, but I promise you that if you give up now, we won’t hurt you.”

“I may be young,” the prince told them loftily. “But I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“Don’t be a fool,” the mercenary spat, growing angry. “You’re surrounded and outnumbered. You don’t stand a chance.”

“Well, then allow me to even the odds.”

Before any of them even knew he was upon them, Iolaus had dropped one of the mercenaries and had procured his sword.

“Now its four against two. How are those odds, Jason?”

“I’d say just about even,” the prince replied, giving his friend a huge grin of thanks.

“Get them,” the head mercenary hissed, turning to storm toward the prince who was turning out to definitely not be the spoiled, rich, soft heir they’d anticipated.

Iolaus faced off against the two mercenaries that came toward them. They had experience and strength over him, but the young cadet had both Cheiron’s strategic training and his own street fighting skills in his corner. And he also knew a thing or two about not fighting fair, and was able to anticipate some of their dirty tricks in advance and counter with a few of his own. Jason was having trouble with the head mercenary, having only his dagger to counter the man’s sword. But Iolaus finally managed to disarm one of his foes, and tossed his sword to his friend. The prince found himself in a much better position with his new weapon, and he changed his tactics from defensive to offensive.

The sparring was rapid and vicious, and there were more than a few close calls. But Jason likewise had training and skill on his side, and eventually he managed to get the upper hand over the brutish mercenary and defeated him. Which left only his traitorous guard, cowering against a nearby tree, watching the scene play out before him.

“I should kill you now,” the prince said angrily, approaching the man and holding the tip of his sword against his throat. “But I guess I’ll just have to be content knowing you’ll spend the rest of your miserable life in jail for treason against the crown.”

“Please, sire, I can explain...” the man stammered in fear.

“Oh, this should be good,” he announced with a harsh laugh, lowering his sword. “Go on, I’m listening.”

“Jason, look out!”

The prince turned in response to Iolaus’ warning shout to see the mercenary he’d thought to be unconscious coming at him with a raised knife. There wasn’t time for him to react, but as the gleaming blade began to descend through the air toward him, a blond blur knocked him out of the way. Jason rolled, springing to his feet, his eyes going wide with horror as he saw the knife jutting grotesquely from Iolaus’s side. The guard took the opportunity the chaos provided to take off running through the woods, and the prince let him go, no longer caring about him. He had bigger fish to fry. Grasping his sword, he launched himself at the smirking mercenary, attacking with a controlled fury that gave him the edge he needed.

Jason didn’t even bother to watch the mercenary hit the ground. He withdrew his sword with a hard yank and immediately turned to his fallen friend, who had already pulled out the knife. Iolaus was on his back on the ground, his blue eyes wide with shock, but he quickly assured the young prince that he was all right. But the blood that was gushing past the fingers clamped against his side proved otherwise.

“Let me see,” Jason commanded impatiently, pulling Iolaus’ hand away. Carefully, he lifted the blond cadet’s vest up to examine the ugly wound. It was deep, spilling a frightening amount of crimson blood. With no time to lose, the prince slid the garment off his friend, pressing it firmly against his injury and using his own belt to lash it in place. “It’s not too bad,” he lied, slipping out of his own vest. Jason wrapped the stiff leather around the blond, for whatever warmth it might provide. “Cheiron will have you up and running drills again in no time.”

“Jase,” Iolaus whispered. “I’m not sure if I can make it back to the Academy.”

Despite his worry, the prince had to snort at the magnitude of his friend’s understatement. He didn’t think Iolaus would be able to get to his feet, much less walk the whole way back. But that was typical of the stubborn cadet. Even when Hercules had him pinned to the ground and he was utterly helpless, he still refused to admit defeat.

“Don’t worry,” Jason assured him. “I’ll get you there.”

“You can’t carry me,” the blond declared adamantly.

“And why not?”

“You’re a prince,” Iolaus reminded him.

“That’s right, I am. Which means that what I say goes. So just shut up and deal with it.” Jason slid his arms under his friend and hoisted him up against his chest with a small grunt. He shifted him as gently as he could and began walking briskly out of the forest. The movements amplified the pain already pulsing through Iolaus’ side, and he bit back a moan as his heavy head drooped and came to rest against his friend’s shoulder, his wild mane of golden curls tickling the muscled arm. He didn’t have much left, but he still felt obligated to put up a small fight.

“You should leave me here,” the blond protested feebly. “Go for Cheiron. I’ll be fine until you get back.”

“Right,” the prince panted. “I leave you alone here, and you’d probably go and do something else stupid. Really, what in Tartarus were you thinking, Iolaus?”

“He was going to kill you.”

“So you decided to let him kill you, instead?”

“You’re the future king,” Iolaus murmured softly, closing his eyes. “Corinth needs you. Nobody would miss me if I died.”

Jason’s steps faltered as he realized that his normally flippant friend was being completely serious. He was stunned into a momentary silence, and before he could begin to reassure him, he felt the blond go limp in his arms.

“Iolaus,” the prince called out, laying him down on the ground and feeling for a pulse. He found one, weak and thready, but there. Jason checked the wound, and was disheartened to see that it was still bleeding freely. He knew that he needed to get his friend some help, and that there was no time to lose. “Hang on, buddy,” he muttered, lifting the blond into his arms once again and setting off at a faster pace than he thought possible.

By the time he reached the Academy, Jason’s legs were rubbery and his arms were numb, but he had refused to stop or slow his pace, the fear he felt flooding through him each time he glanced at his friend’s white face spurring him on. As he stumbled through the gates, the cadets milling about in the yard instantly assessed the situation and flew into action. Two of the senior cadets rushed to take Iolaus from him, carrying him straight to the infirmary as some of the younger cadets scurried off to find Cheiron. Another looped an arm around the trembling prince, steering him over to a nearby bench. Jason sunk down on it to catch his breath, gratefully accepting the mug of water he was handed. But after resting a few minutes, the agony screaming in his limbs faded into a dull ache, and he wearily picked himself up and trotted to the infirmary.

The faces of the cadets lingering outside the door were sober and grim. They looked at Jason with a mix of sympathy and curiosity, but respectfully let him slip inside the room, giving him a chance to consult with Cheiron before asking the question that was on all of their minds. As the prince entered, the centaur glanced up at him, his expression an unreadable mask. Jason moved to stand next to the bed where his friend lay, conscientiously staying out of his teacher’s way but ready to assist him if needed. Cheiron quickly and efficiently cleaned and cauterized the gaping hole in his student’s side, dusting it with powdered herbs and covering it with a clean bandage. He checked Iolaus’ pulse, then pulled a warm blanket over the cadet. Only then did he turn to gaze at Jason, who did not need to be told his headmaster was ready to hear the explanation.

“It was a set up,” the prince began, rubbing a hand tiredly along the back of his neck. “The scroll was a forgery and one of my own guards sold me out. He had a band of mercenaries waiting a few miles down the road. They were going to hold me for ransom. Somehow, Iolaus knew that I was in trouble and he trailed us. He came bursting out through the trees just in time to help me take out the mercenaries, and then when I let my guard down, he came flying out of nowhere to take the dagger that was meant for me. He saved my life, Cheiron, and it very well may have cost him his own.”

Jason’s heart sank when the centaur did not hasten to dispute him. But he was a prince, a leader, and a warrior. It was his duty to face reality, and he couldn’t lose sight of that even when he wanted to cling with all his might to empty promises and childish beliefs that everything would turn out all right. Cheiron was never one to patronize his students or try to soften the blows of an often harsh and cold world, but deep down the young prince knew he preferred it that way. As painful as it may be, he needed the truth.

“How bad is it?” Jason asked.

“The blade penetrated deeply,” Cheiron replied. “I cannot be sure of the extent of the damage. It may well be beyond repair. We shall just have to wait and see what the fates decree. In the meantime, I’ve done all I can, as have you, and life must go on. I’m going to assemble the cadets and begin afternoon drills. You are excused, Jason, in order to get some rest.”

“I’m not tired,” the prince lied, ignoring the fatigue that plagued him down to his bones. “But I’d like to stay here with him.”

“Very well,” the centaur agreed. “If you need me, come and get me.”

“Cheiron,” Jason called out as the centaur was leaving. “Do you think that we should let Hercules know what’s happened?”

“I’ll send one of the cadets to Thebes with the message,” Cheiron promised, closing the door softly behind him.

Jason sighed, pulling up a chair next to the bed where his friend lay as still as death. It truly scared the prince to see the energetic blond like this. He slumped down in the chair, making himself more comfortable as his eyes fixated on the shallow rise and fall of Iolaus’ chest. His mind swirled in confusion as he replayed the events of the morning in his head. The only thing he was sure of was that there was a lot more going on under that mop of curls than he had ever given his friend credit for.

The sound of a door opening woke the prince, and he startled, feeling guilty for having fallen asleep. He rose from his chair, stretching his sore muscles and checking Iolaus quickly, noting no change, before turning to see who was at the door. Hercules had entered the room, supporting his mother who was leaning heavily on a staff. Jason rushed to help, slipping an arm around Alcmene’s waist. She gratefully handed him the staff and held on to his shoulder as the two cadets steered her toward the chair that the prince had just vacated.

“How is he doing?” Hercules asked, his heart growing cold as he looked at the unmoving form of his friend.

“He’s been unconscious for hours,” Jason admitted, sliding a second chair next to the first and placing a pillow on the seat. He carefully lifted Alcmene’s splinted leg up and did what he could to make her comfortable. She favored him with a sweet smile, but it slowly faded as she turned her attentions to the injured boy before her. Hercules had argued against her making the trip to the Academy, but Alcmene was adamant. She had looked after her son’s best friend all his life, never failing to be charmed by his mischievous blue eyes and golden grin when she knew she should be scolding him, and quickly coming to think of him as her third son. So she was not about to let a little thing like a broken leg stop her from taking care of him, now when he needed her the most. And for what could possibly be the last time, she realized, reaching out a hand to stroke his wan cheek.

“Well, what does Cheiron say?” the demigod persisted. “Is Iolaus going to be all right?”

“I don’t know,” the prince replied helplessly. “He just said that we’re doing all we can and that we’ll just have to wait and see. But he’s made it this far, so that’s a good sign, right? The longer he stays with us, the better his chances. So maybe we’re out of the woods, and he’s going to be all right.”

But Jason’s optimism was quelled later that evening as Cheiron examined his patient and gave them the grim news that Iolaus was becoming feverish and infection had set in. They watched as the blond’s white face gradually flushed with fever and his breathing became more labored. The eerie, unnatural stillness soon turned into a restless sleep as Iolaus, deep in the grip of the fever, began to thrash and moan. Alcmene was loath to leave the infirmary, but Cheiron had given her a tea to help the pain in her leg and she soon became unable to fight off the effects of the sedative. The centaur escorted her to the guest quarters that he had made up for her, making sure that she’d be comfortable there and that she had everything she needed. He returned to the infirmary, but eventually he excused himself to his own quarters, knowing that the two cadets would not leave their friend and deciding that somebody should try and get a few hours sleep. Cheiron left them specific instructions on how to care for Iolaus, and told them to summon him if they needed to. And so Hercules and Jason were left alone to wait out the long, dark night. To wait for the fates to decide if their friend would live or die.

The demigod was almost beside himself, fretting about his injured friend. But he was also concerned about Jason, catching the prince staring off into space from time to time with a haunted look on his face. He had given Hercules and Alcmene the details of what had happened, but the demigod couldn’t help feeling that there was something Jason hadn’t told them.

“It’s time,” he announced quietly. The prince jumped at the sound of his voice, but shook it off quickly and went to the fire, adding a handful of leaves to the pot of boiling water. When he had the medicinal tea ready, Hercules lifted Iolaus, supporting him against his chest and holding him steady as Jason patiently fed him the liquid, a few drops at a time until it was gone. The demigod eased his friend back down on the bed, removing the soiled bandage from his side as the prince brought a bucket of cool water over. They worked together, bathing the injured cadet’s fevered body in an attempt to bring his temperature down. Then Hercules cleaned the ugly wound, applying more herbs before Jason covered it with a clean bandage.

“You should get some sleep, Jason,” the demigod suggested, taking in his friend’s haggard appearance as he spread a thin blanket over Iolaus.

“I’m all right,” the prince told him with a shake of the head, plopping down into one of the chairs.

“Are you?”

“What do you mean by that?” Jason demanded, picking up on the challenge in his friend’s voice.

“Something’s bothering you,” Hercules observed, sitting in the chair opposite his fellow cadet. “Something beyond Iolaus being hurt.”

“It was something he said to me,” the prince confessed, feeling the need to unburden his soul to the one person who could understand. “After it happened, I asked him why he did it. He told me that Corinth needed me, because I was the future king. And that no one would miss him if he died.”

“You can’t beat yourself up over that,” the demigod counseled him. “Iolaus’ decision to risk his life to save yours was just that. His decision. You can’t make yourself sick with guilt because he was hurt...”

“I can’t help feeling that this is my fault,” Jason whispered shamefully. “Because of all the times I...”

“Go on,” Hercules prodded gently as his friend trailed off, understanding that the subject was painful, but one that needed to be addressed.

“All the times I belittled him,” the prince continued, closing his eyes and swallowing hard. The images assaulted him fast and furious. Him telling Iolaus that the Amazons had picked the perfect man to paint as the representative male, who was useless in their society. Joking that Iolaus’ mother had felt relieved when he left home. Introducing him as an afterthought to the king of Athens. And casually informing Iolaus that everyone liked Hercules better than him. In light of the day’s events, these memories were enough to make the bile rise up in Jason’s throat.

“You were just kidding, Jason,” the demigod reassured him. “You didn’t mean anything by it.”

“No, I didn’t. And all the times I teased Iolaus about his appetite, or being a flop with women, it all seemed to go right over his head. But I never once stopped to think that just maybe there was a chance that he was acting like it didn’t bother him, but in reality he was hiding hurt feelings. I never considered that he could be taking my words to heart. He was always so cocky and full of himself, I never thought that I could be making him feel inferior. And now, oh gods, if he dies, it will be because I made him believe that he wasn’t as worthy as me to live.” The prince buried his face in his hands as the panic and grief welled up inside him.

“It’s all right, Jason,” Hercules murmured, putting a comforting hand on his friend’s knee and giving it a little squeeze. “Iolaus has always felt that you and I were destined for greatness, but that he could never be a part of that. But you can’t blame yourself for that. His insecurities started long before he ever came to the Academy.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t say for sure, because he won’t ever talk about it,” the demigod continued. “But I’ve seen enough of what went on between him and his father to put it together. Skorous made him believe that he was worthless and would never amount to anything. And I can only guess at what he had to do to survive on the streets after he left home, but I’m sure that those experiences didn’t help his self esteem any.”

“I didn’t know,” Jason whispered, both humbled and horrified to be getting these new insights into his friend.

“The kid’s been beaten down more in his life than I can even imagine,” Hercules said sadly, reaching out to brush the damp curls back from his friend’s face. “He tries to play it off, but that kind of thing leaves a mark, you know?”

“I suppose it does,” the prince agreed absently. He was thinking about all the times Iolaus’ cocky attitude had gotten under his skin, realizing now that behaving that way was the only defense the cadet had. It was the last measure left him among the forces that were doing their best to drag him down. “Which just makes the way I’ve been treating him ten times worse.”

“Jason, don’t beat yourself up over this. Iolaus knows how you really feel about him.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

Hercules looked at his friend, his blue eyes flashing with determined conviction.

“Well, then you can tell him when he wakes up.”

But the long night faded away into morning, and still the injured cadet showed no improvement. Hercules and Jason finally agreed to leave his side and get some rest, largely due to Alcmene’s threats that she was going to brain them both with her staff if they didn’t. She sat with the son of her heart into the afternoon, tenderly caring for him and pleading with him to get well. But he remained unresponsive, and Alcmene began to fear that the worst might actually happen, although she put on a brave face when Jason returned in the afternoon.

“Did you get any sleep?” she asked, knowing the answer as she took in his haggard appearance.

“Some,” he lied, taking the chair next to her. “Any change?”

“No,” she replied sadly. “He’s been hanging on, but he’s growing weaker.”

“He’s not going to die, Alcmene,” Jason declared as her eyes filled with tears.

“Not if you and Hercules have anything to say about it,” she smiled, reaching out and taking his hand. “Iolaus is lucky to have friends that care for him as much as you two.”

“Yeah.” The prince shifted in his chair uncomfortably. Alcmene squeezed his hand and then reached for her staff, pulling herself up out of her chair.

“No, stay here,” she said as Jason stood to help her. “I’m just going to go and have a word with Cheiron, and then see to a few things in the kitchen.”

“What do you need?” Jason asked. “I can do it for you.”

“I need to move around a little and I need to stop feeling like a helpless invalid,” Alcmene told him with a grin. “I think I can manage fine on my own. You stay with Iolaus, and I’ll be back in time to help you with his next dose of medicine.”

The prince nodded, watching her hobble out of the room before he slumped back down into the chair. After a moment, he pulled it a little closer to the bedside and leaned forward to whisper into his friend’s ear.

“She’s worried about you, you know. You’re starting to scare her, Iolaus. You’re starting to scare all of us. You need to fight to come back. We sure are fighting to keep you here, so the least you could do is help us out a little. You need to try, buddy. Hercules and Alcmene need you... and so do I. Damn it, kid, you need to stop being so stubborn and just wake up already!”

“Telling Iolaus to quit being stubborn is like telling the wind to stop blowing.”

Jason quickly wiped the tears from his cheeks before he turned to see Hercules standing in the doorway. The demigod came forward, resting a consoling hand on the prince’s shoulder.

“What are we going to do, Hercules?” Jason whispered helplessly.

“There’s nothing more we can do,” the demigod answered. “It’s up to Iolaus now. But he’s tough and he doesn’t give up easily. If there’s a chance, then there’s still hope.”

The prince nodded, not failing to notice that even though his friend had spoken confidently, there was still the light of terror behind his eyes.

“Tell me more about him,” Jason requested, inclining his head to the vacant seat beside him. He was truly intrigued to learn more about Iolaus, who had far more hidden layers than he’d ever given him credit for. And he suspected that talking about his oldest friend would help to distract Hercules, or at least make the waiting more bearable.

“Well, what do you want to know?” the demigod asked, sliding into the chair.

“I don’t know. How did you guys meet?”

“I guess we knew each other from the start,” Hercules began, thinking back. “I’ve known him from as far back as I can remember. We saw each other around and knew who the other was, but we really didn’t become friends until I started school.” The demigod paused, as if the memories were painful for him, before he continued. “I didn’t know back then that my father was Zeus. But I did know that I was different. My mother took a lot of abuse from the other villagers, since she had me when Amphitrion was supposedly off at war. I didn’t know what it all meant, but even at five years old I knew that we were shunned by a lot of people. The kids at school were no better. I was twice the size that they were, but I never fought back when they picked on me. My mother had always forbidden me to fight, since she was afraid I would accidently hurt someone with my strength. I was afraid too, that I’d hurt somebody and they’d send me away. I started to believe that I was every bit the freak they had labeled me.”

“Where does Iolaus fit in?” Jason asked gently, his heart aching for the torments his friend had suffered.

“Well, one day I was surrounded by a group of four or five kids. It was the usual drill.. They were teasing me, and beating on me a little bit. Usually they kept it to a few slaps and kicks, but one kid really had it in for me and starting pounding on me for real. Then all of sudden, he was pulled off me and I looked up to see Iolaus standing there. He just glared at the ring of kids and ordered them to leave me alone.”

“I can just see him doing that,” the prince chuckled.

“He was smaller than all of them, but every single one of those kids backed down,” Hercules remembered fondly. “He was only seven, but he had quite a reputation as a fighter. Even back then, he was scrappy and made up for what he lacked in size with determination. A few days later, that kid that was after me jumped him. Iolaus took him out and the kid never connected once. After that, nobody bothered me again.”

“So, he had your back from the start.”

“Yeah. For my part, I think I had a case of hero worship in the beginning. I mean, he was two years older than me, and it was just unbelievable that he’d even consider me worth hanging around with. But he did, and he taught me everything he knew about hunting and fishing, and fighting. It was Iolaus who convinced me that I had to stand up for myself, and over the next few years, he helped me find my confidence with myself and my abilities, and helped me to learn that being different wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. But most of all, he was my friend, in a time when I really needed one. I can’t really explain it, but we just bonded. Whatever we were looking for, we found it in each other. I trust him with my life, Jason, and I rely on him to be there when I need him. Hades, I love the guy. And if he goes and dies on me now, I’ll never forgive him.”

“I know how you feel,” the prince whispered, slipping his arm around his friend’s shoulders. Hercules leaned in, and the two young cadets held on to each other, trying to draw comfort and strength from their shared pain.

Alcmene had been watching from the doorway, and she turned away in tears. As much as she wanted to go in and reassure her son, to ease his hurt, she knew that she was unable to relieve him of his burden. Only Iolaus could do that, and she sent yet another prayer to the fates to spare the life of the young man, both for him and his two anguished friends.

The afternoon passed into night, and once again Alcmene and Cheiron retired, leaving the fading cadet in the diligent care of his two friends. Even though things were starting to seem desperate, Hercules and Jason were unwilling to give up hope. Over and over they bathed his fevered body, treating the horrible wound and pouring medicines down his throat with a persistent stubbornness that would have made Iolaus proud.

“I can’t take much more of this,” Hercules whispered finally, turning away from his friend and running a hand through his hair.

“It won’t be long now,” Jason said woodenly. He, too, was feeling the strain of the vigil, and was becoming anxious for it to be resolved. But his words were true, for Iolaus couldn’t keep up the fight for much longer. He would either recover, or... Either way, it would be over soon.

“I think I need some air,” the demigod announced wearily. “I’m going to step outside for a little while.”

“Go,” Jason told him, nodding toward the door.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Hercules paused, taking Iolaus’ limp hand and squeezing it between his own before placing it gently back down on the bed. With a backwards glance, he left the infirmary and headed outside to try and pull himself together under the cool night sky.

Jason took his place next to the bed, wringing out a cloth in the bucket of water and wiping the unconscious cadet’s face and chest with it. He pushed back the matted golden curls with his hand and tossed the cloth back down into the bucket, sitting back with a sigh.

“Come on, Iolaus,” he pleaded softly. “Don’t give up yet. We aren’t going to let you go, so you just keep fighting. The world needs heroes like you, and Hercules and I need a friend like you, so you can’t leave us yet. Just hang on, buddy, and fight to come back to us.”

The prince rose and went to the fireplace, stirring up the dying embers and tossing another hunk of wood in. He slumped down to the floor, leaning back against the wall. The night was utterly still, except for the popping of the log as it caught fire and for Iolaus’ labored breathing. Closing his eyes, Jason once again thought back to the sacrifice Iolaus had made to save his life, replaying it over and over in his mind, realizing that he never even thanked him. Iolaus just had to be all right, for the young prince knew he’d never forgive himself if he missed the chance to tell his friend just how much he did care for him and how amazing he thought he was. Jason offered up a prayer to whatever god might be listening to spare the brave hero’s young life, although experience had taught him not to expect an answer.

Jason jerked awake with a start, immediately condemning himself for having fallen asleep. He stretched, wincing as he worked out the crick in his neck, and got to his feet. The prince started moving across the room to his friend’s bedside, but he froze in fear as he spied the demigod. Hercules was hunched over in one of the chairs, his face buried in his hands.

“Gods, no,” Jason whispered to himself, sure that Iolaus was gone and that Hercules wasn’t able to tell him. He made himself move closer, and he saw that the deathly pallor was gone from the cadet’s face and that he looked at peace. The prince fell to his knees beside the bed, reaching out to lay a hand on his friend’s head as the pain of loss gripped his heart.

“The fever broke.”

Jason whirled around to look at Hercules. The demigod’s face was streaked with tears, but he was smiling and his tired blue eyes were shining with renewed hope. Believing it was too much to hope for, the prince moved his hand down to Iolaus’ neck, feeling the weak heartbeat that pulsed there. He sat back on his heels, relief coursing through him. Hercules joined him on the floor and they hugged each other tightly, this time clinging to each other with shared joy.

After a few minutes, they got up and went back to work. They bathed their friend’s sweat soaked body, and Hercules lifted him up while Jason put down clean, dry blankets on the bed. Together they cleaned the wound on his side, applying plenty of the healing herbs before bandaging it up carefully. They got a little water into him, and then as the sun began to rise over the horizon, they crept off down the quiet corridors to wake Cheiron and Alcmene and give them the happy news.

Iolaus slept through the day, waking only briefly during the evening. His blue eyes blinked open, and after a moment focused on the sight of Alcmene next to him, holding his hand and looking down on him with a loving smile, Hercules and Jason hovering close behind her. Iolaus grinned, managing a weak “hey”, but after taking a sip of water he drifted off to sleep once more. Cheiron told them it was to be expected, as he had suffered a grave injury and it had taken a lot out of him to fight off the infection. Rest was the best thing for him, and since the wound was starting to show signs of healing, there was every reason to think that he would make a complete recovery.

It was slow going, but Iolaus did start to recover. He slept a great deal in the beginning, able to stay awake for only a few minutes at a time. But gradually, thanks to his good physical condition, Cheiron’s healing expertise, and Alcmene’s devoted care, he began to recover his strength. Hercules and Jason were given the thankless job of trying to keep him entertained, up until the day that Cheiron finally allowed him to get up for a short period of time.

After that, there was no stopping him. The impatient cadet pushed himself more and more each day, and it was only a mere few weeks after his injury was sustained that Cheiron released him from the infirmary and allowed him back in the dorms, saying that he was well enough to resume attending classes. Since she was no longer needed, Alcmene took her leave of the Academy and returned home, but not before Iolaus hugged her tight and whispered his heartfelt appreciation and gratitude for all she’d done for him. And things more or less returned to normal, with the cadets going on with their lives, the incident quickly fading into memory as their young minds turned to studying, and training, and a few other less noble pursuits that tend to preoccupy youth. Except for the future king of Corinth. Jason knew he’d never be able to put the incident completely behind him, and he decided that it was high time he set his errant friend straight on one or two matters.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Iolaus jumped guiltily at having been caught, snatching his hand away from the practice staff leaning against the wall as if it had burned him.

“I was just going to put it away before somebody tripped over it, honest.”

“Yeah, right,” Jason drawled, rolling his eyes. “And I suppose you have some land in Atlantis you want to sell me, too. Look, Iolaus, you know Cheiron forbid you to train until he was satisfied you had healed up enough.”

“Well, technically he forbid me to participate in drills,” the blond cadet skillfully countered. “He didn’t say anything about a little light training on my own.”

“Well, TECHNICALLY, you know as well as I do that the practice room is off limits to you for the time being. And being that you so recently escaped death, I can’t imagine why you would want to risk it again so soon by going against Cheiron’s orders.”

“You can’t blame me,” Iolaus sighed pitifully. “I’m going crazy with nothing to do. Just go to class and then go study with old Fiddle Face. I’m never going to catch up on all this junk.”

“And once you start training again and get back on chore duty, you’ll get even further behind,” Jason reminded him. “So why don’t you just make the most of the time while you have it now and work to make up what you missed?”

“Is this why you came in here?” the blond asked, waving around the darkened training room. “To give me a lecture on studying?”

“No.” The prince scratched his head absently, glancing down at the polished floor beneath him as he tried to think of how to start. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Well?” Iolaus said finally, holding out his hands as if to ask what he was waiting for. “Go ahead. Talk.”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about the day... that you were hurt,” Jason began quietly.

“What about it?” The blond realized that his friend had something serious on his mind, and though he had a feeling it was something he’d rather not discuss, he could see it was important so he sobered his tone and focused his attention.

“You said something to me that freaked me out,” the prince continued. “And it’s been freaking me out ever since.”

“What did I say?”

“That Corinth needed me, and that nobody would miss you if you...died.” Jason’s voice broke on the last word, for it still terrified him to think of just how close it had been.

“Well, it’s true,” Iolaus whispered, looking away uncomfortably.

“How can you say that?” the prince demanded. “Do you really have no idea what Hercules and Alcmene and I went through when we weren’t sure if you were going to make it or not?”

“Oh, I know you guys care about me,” the blond replied softly, his eyes still fixated on something off in the distance. “But come on, Jason. You’re the future king, and I’m a former thief.”

“And you think that makes my life worth more than yours?” Jason asked. When his friend didn’t answer, the prince shook his head sadly. “Oh, Iolaus. You don’t know how badly you underestimate yourself.”

“What do you mean?” Iolaus stole a quick glance at his friend.

“You were willing to give your life to save another,” Jason told him. “And not for the first time. That make you a hero, my friend, in anybody’s eyes. So you need to forget about the mistakes you’ve made in the past and block out the lies spoken by fools who don’t really know you. Because this is who you are, Iolaus. A brave, strong, selfless hero cut from the noblest cloth, with friends who love you and admire you and who would never, ever stop mourning your loss if you died.”

Iolaus looked up at the prince, so afraid that the words were a joke but so desperately wanting to believe that his friend was speaking the truth. When he read only sincerity and affection in Jason’s warm eyes, the blond quickly turned away again, embarrassed by the tears that were starting to well up.

“I don’t know what to say,” he whispered hoarsely, when he felt like he could talk again.

“Just say you’ll be more careful from now on,” Jason advised, his own eyes damp as he slung an arm around his friend. “The world can’t afford to lose you, and neither can the future king of Corinth.”

Iolaus shifted slightly in order to hug the prince, overwhelmed by the unexpected show of love and support. Surely, a worthless former thief would never be deserving of such praise, and for the first time, the blond started to think that just maybe he wasn’t a nobody after all.

“Glad to have you back, buddy,” Jason murmured, wrapping him in a tight embrace. “And thank you for sacrificing yourself to save my life. Just don’t ever do it again!”

“And just what are you going to do about it if I do?” Iolaus asked, pulling away to grin impishly at his friend.

“I’d wipe the floor with your heroic butt,” the prince responded confidently.

“Oh really?” The blond reached behind him for the practice staff. “Well, bring it on!”

“Nice try,” Jason grinned, taking the staff from him and putting it back.

“Hey, I saved your life,” Iolaus reminded him, trailing after his friend dejectedly as they left the training room. “Doesn’t that mean you owe me? Five minutes on the beam, that’s all I ask.”

“Not a chance,” Jason replied cheerfully. “I’m not about to defy Cheiron’s orders.” The prince glanced back at his friend, a sly smile playing about his lips. “Although, technically, he never said anything about bagball, did he?”

Iolaus laughed and began trotting to catch up with the prince.

“It’s good to know that if anything does happen to me, at least I’ve imparted my legacy of scheming to a worthy replacement,” he chuckled.

“Perhaps you’d both better concentrate on the heroics and leave the scheming behind.”

The two cadets jumped as Cheiron stepped out of the shadows of the building.

“Or else you may find yourselves concentrating on detention,” the centaur continued sternly. “Technically.”

“Yes, Cheiron,” they both droned in unison, under their headmaster’s penetrating stare. The centaur gave them a sage nod, the wisdom in his eyes belying his amusement as he moved off.

“Well, guess that puts an end to that,” the prince sighed.

“You know,” Iolaus mused, after a moment of thoughtful silence. “Technically, he just told us to stop scheming. He never actually said we couldn’t play.”

“I think I’m just going to go to bed,” Jason told him. “Because trying to keep up with you is technically exhausting.”

But the smile on his face and the warm hand on his friend’s shoulder went a long way in proving that the future king of Corinth was more than happy to once again be caught up in Iolaus’ schemes. He wouldn’t have it any other way, technically.

Finis

Disclaimer: No scheming heroes were technically hurt during the writing of this story.

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