Note: I've always been haunted by Season Five, as I guess we all have been haunted, feeling the despair of Iolaus' death, not understanding how Hercules could somehow find a way to go on…how he could fail to have used every means, such as the Norse magic, to bring Iolaus back. Wondering how he could seem to begin life anew, even reach out for love, when it was only too clear to all of us that the light had gone out of the world…wondering how he could seem to accept that Iolaus was truly gone into the Light when it was utterly unacceptable to the rest of us. One day, I will write my own version of how Hercules got Iolaus back, a version that has nothing to do with the Light or the Four Horsemen and everything to do with the demigod's unwillingness to quit, to give up…and that also reflects Iolaus' valour in facing the prospect of eternal darkness and the loss of his very soul to defeat Dahok. But, for now, I simply had to set the record straight…had to show that Hercules never did accept the loss of his best friend and partner… never could.
Hercules grinned broadly as he waved back to his two deliriously happy friends, and watched while they swam out strongly, and then with the flip of two enormously powerful tails, disappeared beneath the foam of the sea. His eyes rose to the far horizon for a moment, as if in silent communion, then turned to face his delighted sister, her eyes dancing with merriment, her face aglow with the impossible joy of her smile.
Returning that smile with a soft one of his own, he murmured, "Thank you, Aphrodite…thank you for making them both so happy…for gifting them with a life together."
Maybe it was something in his voice, or in the shadows of pain that were ever present in his eyes ever since…. Whatever it was, her own smile faded as she gazed at him with compassion. "You'll miss him, won't you?"
Hercules nodded, looking up and away again toward the sea. "Uh huh. He's a good man. But, this was the best thing that could have ever happened to him, for him. I'm not sorry, not at all," he assured her, turning back to face her. "I'm very glad that you chose to give his heart all that he desired. I doubt that's ever happened before in the terrible life he'd been cursed with…I really hope this is only the beginning of his happiness."
She cocked her head and reached out to gently touch his arm. "Are you alright? You're alone now…."
Unexpected, unwanted tears burned his eyes as he quickly turned away, muttering, "I…" How could he say it? That having this other Iolaus with him hadn't made him any less alone than he'd been since…." "I'm alright," he sighed. "Don't worry…I'm alright."
She frowned, doubting that very much. But, there was nothing she could do to bring back the joy of his heart…to give him back the happiness of his life. Nothing, except maybe reassure him, try to comfort him. "He's fine, you know. Safe now. He wouldn't want you to feel so bad," she murmured quietly, both of them knowing they weren't talking about the man who had just disappeared beneath the waves.
"I know," Hercules replied softly, then forced himself to smile again as he turned to face her. "Really… don't worry about me. You did something wonderful here today…let's just feel good about that. Okay?"
"Okay," she agreed softly, struggling to conjure a bright smile for him as she squeezed his arm gently once more, and then disappeared.
Hercules looked back toward the eternal sea for a moment longer and then turned inland. Feeling aimless. Wondering what to do with himself…wondering if he could find a handy monster to deal with, or a warlord, or even just some mangy bandits. Something. Anything. Just so's it would keep him busy, not leave him time to think…or feel.
He didn't really pay much attention to where he was going. He never did anymore.
He just wandered through forests and along streams…the gurgling of the water echoing another sound in his heart…a giggle he missed so much. But, he couldn't bring himself to stop to fish, nor could he bear the thought of laying a snare to catch a rabbit for his dinner. He wondered if or when he'd ever be able to do such simple, every day things again, or even think about them, without feeling an ache fill his chest and rise in a lump to clog his throat.
Skirting a village, to avoid the festival that was in full swing, he carried on across meadows and fields, not wanting to hear the music or see the dancing…not wanting to think about the contests, the laughter in the taverns. He'd tried that, traveling through towns, passing time in raucous taverns…but he'd found himself hearing echoes of another's laughter, turning too often in reflexive hope…only to realize he was being a fool.
As he wandered through the trees along the crest of the hill that overlooked the Academy in the distance, he considered heading down to visit with Jason and Lilith. But, he couldn't bring himself to go. The hallways and dorm, the messhall and gymnasium, the stables and courtyard, the classrooms and library…everywhere he turned, everywhere he looked, he could only see what…who…wasn't there anymore. His lip trembled and he turned away, blinking to clear his vision. And carried on, stopping that night in a quiet, secluded grove where he stared past the campfire into the empty darkness until dawn broke again.
On he traveled, past Corinth and up over the isthmus, still, he thought, aimlessly. Just walking. There wasn't really anywhere to go. He didn't have a home anymore, not really. The cottage he'd called home as a child was still there, but without his mother it wasn't the same. And, for so much of his life, home had been with him, wherever he'd gone, striding along beside him, teasing, joking, arguing for the hell of it.
He'd never felt so lost in his life.
Past the small temple where it had finally ended, Dahok defeated and Iolaus' soul released from horror. Released to a well-earned place in the Light. But, when it had been over, there hadn't even been a body to hold onto, to say good-bye to, or to lay to rest. Only friends who'd wanted to be assured he was alright.
So, he'd told them he was, that everything was fine now…Iolaus was at peace.
But…it wasn't fine. How could it be?
Iolaus might be at peace, but the friend he'd left behind was utterly wretched. It was all so damned empty, everything. Hercules shuddered with a heavy sigh, swallowing hard as he looked up into the sky, whispering, "Don't worry about me…I'll work it out…I'm glad you're…you're where you deserve to be. I…it's just that…I guess it's going to take a little more time."
He'd thought he'd just been ambling through Greece, until he came to the crest of the hill and looked at the ebony obelisk, at the face he missed so much it tore the heart out of him. He found himself just standing there, reaching out to touch the features, to run his fingers over the stone curls, the cold marble cheek, and then he wrapped his arms around the unyielding stone, pressing his body against it, feeling the imprint of Iolaus' face against his shoulder…shuddering with his loss. Sinking to the ground, he leaned a shoulder against the stone as he stared out across the valley.
As close to home as he could ever again be.
"I miss you, my friend," he murmured thickly, closing his eyes, remembering. "I miss our morning talks… our silly fights…and the long afternoon walks. I miss…I miss the way you made me laugh. I miss your blue-green eyes, dancing with mischief and life…and your golden hair, curls always in your eyes. I miss the hopes for this world the two of us shared. Ah, Iolaus…my friend…the one I told my troubles to, who always understood…oh gods, Iolaus, I miss the light you brought to my life. I miss the fun, and the adventure…and, everything…everything about you. Nothing makes sense now…I can't…I don't know how to let you go…I can't believe this is real…that this is forever. I keep thinking there must be something I can do, something I'm missing…dear gods, Iolaus, I'm sorry if you can hear this…sorry if it hurts you… But, I can't stand it…I want…need you back."
His voice broke and he swallowed, blinking hard against the burning of his eyes. He hadn't cried, not really, not once. He remembered the maddened rage he'd felt as he'd kicked Gilgamesh into the flames, wanting only to destroy the evil creature who had thrown the knife that he'd watched with helpless horror plunge into Iolaus' chest, driving him backward. He remembered the denial he'd felt as he'd raced across the marble of the foreign temple, and had pulled Iolaus over into his arms, looking only once at the hilt of the blade then turning away from it, not wanting to accept what couldn't be happening…couldn't be….He remembered the desperation that had driven him to shake Iolaus' body demanding that he not give up…and the numb horror as he'd pulled his friend's lifeless body up against his own, holding him, feeling the warmth go out of him…feeling the cold settle into his own soul.
He remembered carrying his friend to the altar and lying him upon it, easing Iolaus' stiff fingers from around the hilt of the blade and drawing the ghastly thing out of his body, tossing it away. Remembered just standing there, looking down at him, unable to take it in…to believe it, even then.
He remembered calling Iolaus his hero, and meaning it. It was only the simple truth…a truth he'd never bothered to tell his friend…and now it was too late.
He remembered begging the gods, pleading with them, and his single-minded journey to get Iolaus back, like he'd done before. This couldn't be final. It couldn't be over. Iolaus couldn't really be gone so far that he couldn't be found…his determination, almost madness to carry on, no matter what the hazards or the costs. He remembered the flare of hate he'd felt for Nebula, that Iolaus had done this to save her…pushing away the fury he felt for Iolaus for having done it. He remembered the rage at being told he'd treated Iolaus like an object he owned…gods…that had never been true.
If anything, it had always been the other way around.
And, he remembered the soul-crushing moment when he'd known he'd never be able to get his friend back as the agony of horrified failure swept over him, bringing him to his knees. He'd cried out his partner's name, the pain of the moment arcing through his voice…a terrible scream of inconceivable loss. Iolaus had gone beyond his power to follow…he was too late…too late. Tears had flowed then, heavy sobs, of frustration and helplessness…and hopelessness. The wrenching hideous pain had surged through him, mindless and instinctive, born more of wretched horror than of grief.
He remembered the stony guilt he'd felt, as he'd taken leave of Nebula, so lost in his own despair he'd been unable to think of anything else, do anything else but run…run from grief, and guilt, memories and love…run until he'd lost himself…run until he couldn't run any more. He'd abandoned Iolaus' body…had sailed by Greece lacking the courage to face their friends, to put into words what, in all truth, he still could not accept. He remembered wanting to die, raging against the Fates and the fury of the ocean storms to take his life, that he deserved to die…that it should have been him who had died. Not…not….
Iolaus hadn't wanted to go, had warned him. But, he pulled his friend along, so arrogant in his belief that he could handle anything, take on any foe. Careless of the danger…careless of the precious and vulnerable mortal life that was the greatest blessing of his existence. He'd killed Iolaus, as surely as if it had been his own hand that had plunged that blade into his best friend's heart…he'd killed him.
And later, loathing himself, despising the fact he'd survived the voyage, the storms, he remembered his indifference to the plight of the people on that far northern isle…what did their suffering matter? What did anything matter? Life was brief, a brief burst of light, and if you were lucky…or perhaps, cursed…you knew love, and then it was dust. No matter what anyone did, no matter the will, or power, or hope, or desperate need…it all ended in dust.
He remembered the young druid trying to help him to at least find a way past the numbness, and the illusion in the cave. Gods, for a moment, for one heart-stopping moment, he'd thought Iolaus was real. That the magic and gentle love of the druids had worked the miracle he'd failed to generate. But, it was only a kindness…an opportunity to give himself some kind of closure, free of horror, peacefully letting go of the stony despair and hopelessness…the emptiness…allow himself to find some relief and through it, release.
And, in pitiful gratitude for even the illusion of being with Iolaus again, he'd let them believe they'd helped him. It was little enough, a small deception held within his heart.
But, there could be no closure…not then, and he was beginning to suspect, not ever. He didn't know how to say good-bye to Iolaus…didn't want to learn how. When he'd gone to the Norselands, and for that one frozen moment, when he'd first seen Baldar kneeling at the altar, the cascade of wild blond curls, he'd had a rush of desperate hope that this time the miracle would be real…but a stranger had stood and faced him. And the despair, made strong again by the wrenching away of the sharp hope of a tormented soul, had nearly brought him to his knees.
He'd lost himself then, buried the pain for a while, fighting the evil there, restoring their world as he couldn't restore his own, lashing out with his fury, despising the evil and aching to destroy it as he couldn't destroy the horror that had stolen Iolaus from him. With trembling fingers, he'd held that magic brush, with the paint that could supposedly recreate what was lost or create something better than what was, and he'd brushed it over the canvas, wanting another scene to emerge, in his selfishness still only wanting…but the enchanted paint and the brush had their own will, and they would not be ruled by his.
When he'd returned to Eire, he'd told himself, numbly, not knowing what else to do, that he would begin anew here in this foreign land where at least he could walk in forests or by streams that held no memories. He told himself he could love learn to love Morrigan and her child. That they needed him. That it mattered. He tried to break through the icy casing around his heart, all that was holding the shattered pieces of it together. But, the evil had reached out, utterly wanton in its destruction…and deliberately cruel in wanting Hercules to know what had been done…the blasphemy and obscenity of what had been done with, and to, Iolaus' body.
A hero reconstituted as the most foul of demons.
He remembered the utterly sick feeling he'd had, seeing that monstrosity in his best friend's body, knowing he had to destroy it…somehow without consigning Iolaus' soul into the pit with it. He remembered every smash of his fist against the body he loved more than anything on earth, remembered trying to strangle…he remembered that it had felt as if he was cutting his own body, cutting his own heart out, when he'd drawn the symbols on the skin of Iolaus' chest, trying to tell himself this wasn't his friend…but it was Iolaus' body and he was mutilating it. It had sickened him, shattering his heart into ever smaller pieces and shredding his soul.
He remembered facing Dahok's lies with truths of his own, about Iolaus' courage…about how Iolaus had changed his life, made it what it was…hoping Iolaus would, could, hear and know it was the truth. Know that he'd always needed Iolaus more than his buddy had ever needed him.
He remembered the flash of hope and relief when Iolaus had fought back, reaching out to him, gripping his own hand so strongly, resolutely with a grim and desperate determination. And, as hideous as it had been, fighting the ugly evil of Dahok, he'd been filled with a kind of wild joy to be fighting with Iolaus again. His buddy was there, beside him, real, to be touched, seen, heard, and he'd convinced himself in those few moments that by defeating Dahok he'd finally work the magic needed to free Iolaus, to release his soul and allow him to take his own body back…to live again.
But, in the silence of the aftermath of that battle for all decency, all hope on earth, he knew he'd lost all that had truly mattered to him…that even in winning, they had been defeated. He remembered holding Iolaus, hugging him tightly, not wanting to let him go, devastated to know he had no choice.
Still unable to say good-bye.
Remembered watching as his friend ascended into the Light. Trying to accept it, trying to be grateful that his friend had finally found peace. Tears in his eyes, one escaping to slip down his cheek before he could blink it away as he forced himself to say the word of farewell…but refusing to weep as his heart demanded, because tears would make it real. And, even watching it happen, even saying the word, he couldn't allow himself to feel the full reality of it.
And there hadn't even been a body left. Iolaus was just…gone.
He'd had nothing left to give anyone, and Morrigan had finally realized that and had returned to where she was needed.
After that, he'd roamed aimlessly. Oh, he'd helped people in need, to give his body something to do, his mind something to be occupied with lest the emptiness drive him mad. Paying a kind of grim rent for the air his body was still using, the space he continued to take on the face of the earth. Tried to do the things, and be the man, he knew Iolaus would want him to be. But he was just going through the motions of life, not really part of it…separate somehow, his feelings locked down as he tried to contain the grief that threatened to choke him with agony.
And, one day, in an attempt to force himself to accept the unacceptable, to honour his friend, he'd erected this monument, setting it in the place where there had only been happy memories. A place where they'd played as kids, dreaming of the heroes they'd become. A place where they'd paused when they'd journeyed back home from wherever they'd been, to look down at the valley, the peace of it, and feel that peace in their souls. A place where they'd laughed, and rested, talked about anything and everything…a place that had only ever belonged to them, no one else.
He wasn't sure when he'd realized he hadn't ever really cried, in grief and sorrow, in longing. He couldn't, somehow…he kept fighting it, and then, resting there against the cold stone, he realized it was because he didn't know how to go on without Iolaus, more, didn't want to imagine that this was the way it was forever to be. So long as he didn't finally accept it, didn't finally, fully, give way to grief, he could hold onto something inside… something that kept telling him this couldn't be the way it was, that this couldn't be real. That there'd be a way, that he just hadn't found it, figured it out yet.
So, he'd kept on going. Numb, in denial, still watching for some sign of what to do, where to turn, how to make everything right again. He'd brought the other Iolaus back with him through the vortex…and though he'd been sincerely glad to have helped the man, and had come to care for him in his own right, it had been a kind of daily torture. Waking up to see Iolaus sitting across the fire, and then memory returning. Hearing the voice…and almost turning to tease like he'd love to tease his friend, but stopping because this Iolaus wouldn't understand.
He'd been genuinely happy to see Iolaus and Nautica united in a life and love they would share for the rest of their days…perhaps forever, for all he knew. But, it had been a relief, too, in a way.
"I miss you," he sighed again, watching as the sun sank into the horizon. Another empty day was ending. Another endless night beginning. The world went on, people with all their hopes and cares, all their busy lives…only his world had stopped. "What good is my strength if I can't tear away the veils between us and pull you back? What good is my damned strength if my soul is gone?"
He knew it was time. Knew he should cry…should let Iolaus go. If only because he was afraid his friend knew how tormented he still was, and would be worried about him. For Iolaus, he should find a way to move on. But, when the dawn came, he just stood and walked away from the obelisk.
Not yet…he couldn't do it, couldn't let go yet. Better the numbness than the kind of pain that final admission would bring.
Better the hope, though he knew it was crazy and pointless. Better that than accept he'd never, ever see Iolaus again. Accept that this time the Fates had forsaken him…in sending Iolaus into the Light, they'd taken all the light from his life.
So, he wandered, helping when asked, drifting from one village to another, ambling through forests and across rolling fields. Days and weeks merged into months…all the same. All without colour or meaning.
And, he'd become aware that he was losing his grip. In his ache to hear that voice, he was hearing it, knowing it was unreal, but it sounded…Iolaus sounded…so close, calling to him. And, then, he began to see Iolaus reflected back from shiny surfaces and from pools of water, his eyes imploring, urgent, as if warning him, as Iolaus so often had, of some danger, alerting him to the need to be ready for something bad that was about to happen. Knowing Iolaus wasn't there, wouldn't ever be there…but unable to turn away from those images until they'd dissipated, leaving him again bereft.
And feeling guilty.
Because if…if it really was Iolaus trying to reach him, and not the fantasies of his own mind, then he really was tormenting his friend, keeping him from the peace he deserved. But, his heart, his soul, just couldn't seem to let go.
He'd taken to watching and listening for his friend, knowing it was insane…that he was likely going mad. But, he couldn't help himself. When that hand had reached out to him from the depths of the water, so impossible, he could no more fail to grasp it and hold on, pulling with all that was in him, than he could have stopped the sun in the sky or the tides in the sea. But, when he'd finally pulled his friend up out of that pool, had felt his solidity, heard the cadences of that voice, some vestige of sanity had warned him it couldn't possibly be real, and he'd been afraid…was this a demon, was Dahok back, taunting him…or had he simply, completely lost himself in his own insane desire to be reunited with his friend?
But, it was real…Iolaus was real! Hercules felt as if his heart would burst from the inexpressible joy of that single moment. He was back! It was really him…ALIVE!!! Oh gods, he was alive!
Hercules had caught his friend in a hug of such boundless, careless, overwhelming happiness that he had forgotten everything else…and didn't notice that the unrestrained exuberance of his embrace was such that it would have crushed the fragile, courageous mortal who had walked by his side for more than thirty years.
Had he realized that, he would have known that everything wasn't restored to the way it had been.
When Iolaus had finally confessed he couldn't stay…Hercules hadn't wanted to believe him, couldn't accept it, not in his heart. Would have insisted on that fact, except that a really mean looking horseman was bearing down upon them. After that, they'd been too busy to talk about it. But, he held his commitment to not let go, to keep Iolaus beside him, somehow, close to his heart. Iolaus was back. They'd find a way for him to stay. They'd work it out once they'd dealt with the horsemen and Michael. Oh gods, Iolaus was back, and there was colour in the world again, and meaning. How could he even think of losing him again…no, it was impossible. There would be a way.
There had to be a way.
But…when Death rode for Iolaus, and Hercules knew that the powers they were up against were more than they could resist or defeat, something shattered inside. He couldn't do this again. Couldn't face living without light, without hope, without meaning…without Iolaus.
He'd leapt up upon Death, dragging him from his saddle, wrestling with him, deliberately rolling toward the abyss…deliberately choosing his own death as he plummeted over the side, dragging Death with him.
To save Iolaus, if he could.
And if he couldn't…to save himself from ever having to hold a dying or dead Iolaus in his arms again, from ever having to face another moment like those he'd faced in Sumeria and ever since…from a future that was too unendurable to contemplate.
To save himself from ever finally having to give up hope that his best friend would find a way back to him, or that he'd find a way to get to Iolaus.
To save himself from the final black despair that he had to face a future forever alone…to save himself from the grief and guilt his soul no longer had the strength to bear.
And to allow himself one final hope…that if this fight was truly lost, and they were all condemned to pay with their lives, that this time, he'd be there first, to welcome his friend…be there waiting to share whatever eternity had to offer them.
As he dropped into the abyss, falling to forever, he had no regrets, and knew he'd do it over and over again, eternally if need be, willingly, willfully, giving his life to save his friend…as he would have saved him, given a chance in Sumeria, and would always save him so long as it was in his power to do so.
He loved Iolaus more than he loved anything, anyone, more by far than he loved his own life…and always would.
Finis