HTLJ: Source of Life

by Arianna18

Hercules is poisoned by Hera and the only cure lies in a well-guarded cavern deep beneath Mount Olympus

"You can't be serious! Your daughter is not a chattel to be bartered!" Hercules exclaimed, his face almost blank with shock at the outrageous proposal King Androcles had just made. Iolaus, leaning with his arms crossed against a pillar in the crowded cavernous hall of frieze covered walls, richly woven tapestries, gilded chandeliers and hand woven carpets, had to lift a hand to cover an irreverent grin. This guy might be a king, but he was also an idiot if he'd thought Hercules would ever go along with such a ridiculous idea.

"I am deadly serious," King Androcles stated grimly, not at all pleased by the reception his well-considered proposition had just received. The man before him, demigod or not, should have been falling all over himself with gratitude at such promised largesse.

Hercules shook his head and cast a glance at Iolaus, his eyes narrowing as he took in the air of exaggerated innocence his partner was affecting, thinking that this wasn't the least bit funny, and he was not amused. Turning back to the King, he asked, "Whatever gave you the idea I would be interested in such an outrageous offer?"

Androcles cast a disparaging glance at Iolaus before replying, "I was in Argos when you blasted the king of some insignificant little island for having condemned your partner to life in the salt mines for the molestation and murder of a child. It seems you were successful in getting him back…so, I thought you were a man of action, with few if any scruples provided there was something in it for you." Peering at Iolaus he muttered, "I'd heard you were branded." Iolaus cocked a sardonic brow and looked away.

Hercules had to swallow back his anger, and take a deep breath before he answered, "Well, you thought wrong. The whole point of that situation was that Iolaus was innocent of any wrongdoing. You, on the other hand, seem to have more than earned the problems you have in this kingdom."

Androcles shrugged negligently, but his voice was hard and cold. "Nevertheless," he replied, "I've made you a handsome offer and I do not accept 'no' when I require action. Now that you are here, you have no choice but to do what I wish."

Iolaus straightened at the threatening tone of the King's voice and the stiffening he could see in Herc's body as his friend battled his disgust and anger. Whatever this guy had thought, he had badly misjudged the demigod.

"No!" Hercules stated loudly, and very deliberately, "I will not be party to the subjugation of your people. Come on, Iolaus, we're out of here."

The furious demigod whirled on his heel, and without looking back to ensure his partner was following him, he headed for the exit from the opulant, even decadent, hall. Iolaus quirked a brow and tried to stifle a grin when he saw the expression of absolute consternation cross the King's face. Shrugging with a look that as much as said, 'That's my buddy!' he, too, turned to leave the hall, his step almost jaunty. He'd known there was no way Herc would ever have accepted the proposition the King had made, and he dearly loved being proven right.

"Halt!" shouted the King. "No one walks out on me!"

"Then this'll be a new experience for you," growled the demigod without breaking his stride. When several guards moved to block the doorway, he paused for only a moment. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Your choice, either move aside or be moved, I don't really care."

The guards looked into his angry eyes, and knew he wasn't kidding. One looked nervously up the hall toward the King, who screamed, "Stop them! Throw them in the dungeons!"

"Yeah, right," Iolaus scoffed. "Try not to hurt them too bad, Herc…they don't really have a choice."

"There is always a choice," Hercules fired back over his shoulder, his fury darkened eyes locked with those of the captain of the guard. The hapless soldier swallowed, then proceded to do his duty.

"You might be a fool, but you're no coward," Iolaus observed dryly, as the captain's body flew over his head to land at the King's feet.

The others were either less well-disciplined, or less brave. Scattering like leaves before the wind, they moved away from the doorway, shaking their heads as the demigod and his partner stormed out of the throne room, while the King screamed threats and curses about how he'd make the demigod pay for such insult. They could hear his voice ringing through the stone hallways as they strode out of his presence and out of his castle.

Hercules didn't break stride as he stomped through the village that had grown up around the castle walls. Iolaus scrambled after him, calling out, "Um, excuse us, coming through," and with abrupt contrition, "Sorry!" as a horse drawn cart came to such a sudden halt that it tipped over. The produce in the back tumbled out onto the dust of the street, while the driver shouted in frustration and the crowd laughed at his dilemma. Urchins descended upon the farmer's goods, making off with whatever they could carry.

Iolaus found he had to jog a little to keep up with his larger friend, finally calling out about a mile out of town, "Hey, big guy! We aren't just going to leave are we?"

Hercules carried on for another ten long strides, before turning abruptly to face his friend, the anger still darkening his eyes. "What? You think this is funny? You think we should just, what, hang around?"

Grinning, Iolaus jogged up to face his friend. "Well, you have to admit, it's not everyday that someone offers you their spinster daughter, and the chance to become the crown prince, providing you'll put down an irritating little rebellion of starving peasants."

"Urrrgghh," Hercules growled as he turned to continue on his way. "Did he actually think I'd agree to those terms? That I would beat up helpless peasants?"

"Uh, yeah, I think he did. But, there's no intelligence test to pass before you can become King. The guy's an idiot," Iolaus observed, standing in the roadway, his hands on his hips.

"No? Really? You think?" Hercules muttered, before noticing that his partner was no longer jogging along in his wake. Stopping, he again turned, scowling back at his best friend. "What now?"

"Well," Iolaus called back, "just because we don't want to help the King doesn't mean we couldn't stick around to help the peasants…."

Hercules studied his friend, his hands on his hips, then his eyes lifted to the sky as he thought about the idea. Looking back at Iolaus, he shook his head in exasperation, but the anger was gradually seeping away from his eyes and the taut muscles of his shoulders and back were loosening. "And how, exactly, do you propose we contact them? We have no idea who the resistance leader is."

Grinning, Iolaus shrugged, "Me? No, I have no idea, but I'll bet the guys who have been shadowing us ever since we left the village will know." Swiveling on his heel to face toward the forest along the side of the road, he called out, "How about it, fellows? Are you ready to talk to us yet?"

"Oh great, just great," Hercules mumbled as he watched half a dozen lean men, dressed in what looked like nothing so much as patched up rags, emerge from the shadows. They were better armed than garbed, with long bows, quivers of arrows, swords and knives at their waists and sticking from the tops of their boots. As much as he sympathized with their plight, having had the misfortune of meeting their arrogant and half-crazed ruler, Hercules was uncomfortable with the idea of aiding a rebellion that could only lead to the death of the rightful, if incompetent and reprehensible, king."

"Is it true? Would you be willing to help us?" asked one of the peasants, the timbre of hope clear in his voice. He was older than the others, and looked a good deal more weary, as if he would like nothing better than to find a way to end this conflict sooner rather than later, before it could cost many more lives.

"Well, I…" Hercules hesitated, throwing a look at Iolaus.

"Aw, come on, Hercules," Iolaus cajoled. "You know they don't have a hope without help…and it's only too obvious that King Androcles has been abusing his position, starving them, even torturing them for sport. We can't just walk away. Besides," he added with a beguiling grin, "you know you want to help them."

Hercules sighed as he looked away, the strain of the situation clear in his eyes. He understood only too well why Iolaus wanted to help, but… "He's the rightful King, Iolaus, as bad as he is. To rise up against him is against the law, and no other kings will support such an action. Anyone involved will be branded a criminal…"

The hope that had lit the faces of the peasants faded, and their shoulders slumped. They knew he was right. They just didn't know what else to do. They couldn't go on just accepting the intolerable cruelties. At any given moment, any one of them, or their families, could find their lives forfeit, just because the King decided he didn't like the colour of their eyes, or the cut of their clothes, or whatever it was that made him choose some to live while others were abused, imprisoned or killed.

Iolaus just stared at Hercules, speechless for a moment, then spluttered, "The law? You've got to be kidding. You'll just walk away and let him do whatever he wants to these people. I can't believe that."

"No, I understand Hercules' concern," the spokesman said with quiet resignation, as he turned aside, ready to lead his followers back into the forest's shadows.

Hercules looked at the men, saw the evidence of old wounds, scars of whippings and beatings, saw the haggard look about them. "Wait," he called out. They turned back, the trace of hope again glimmering in their eyes. "I won't help you to kill him…but, maybe there's a way to reason with him, to make him behave more responsibly."

One of the younger men snorted with disdain. "Not bloody likely," he replied. "The man's drunk with his power. There's no way to reason with the likes of him. Some have tried, and died for their trouble."

Hercules looked away, then back at his partner. The righteous indignation burning in Iolaus' eyes made it clear where his friend stood. Iolaus was right. He wanted to help these people. Making his decision, the demigod nodded. "Alright, we'll help you…but only if you promise that we don't kill him. There must be another relative somewhere who would make a better ruler, who could govern as regent in the King's stead."

Again, the older man responded. "Yes, there's his cousin, Manacles. He's a good man, and would be a fine, honest ruler. If we could depose Androcles, then Manacles might well accept the crown."

"By rights, he shoulda been the king," another grumbled, and the rest nodded their agreement.

Frowning, Iolaus asked, "What do you mean?"

The leader explained, "A month before he was born, Manacles' father, King Samaous, was killed and most of us believe Androcles' father, the King's brother, was responsible. As the next male heir, Androcles' father became King in his turn, then, when he died three years ago, Androcles claimed the throne as his right. But, many of us believe the rightful King is Manacles."

Now, this was a situation they could work with…restoring the rightful heir to the throne was not the same as overthrowing a lawful king. "Good, that's a start. Where can we find this Manacles to ask him if he'd like his throne back?" the demigod asked.

* * *

"You assured me he would help," the King complained bitterly.

"Ah well, he has always been difficult and unpredictable…he takes after his father," Hera, Queen of the Gods, responded with a long suffering sigh.

Androcles looked away from the sinister eyes of the goddess, his gaze roaming the private temple he had created within his castle precinct, absently noting the fine sculptures, friezes, busts and statues, the jeweled chalice on the alter. "I'll kill him for his insolence," he said more to himself than the goddess. Though wary of Hera's unpredictable moods, their long association had blunted any fear or awe he might have felt for her in his youth.

"I'd be delighted if you could," Hera purred, a cold smile hiding the contempt she felt for this rather stupid, but potentially useful, mortal. "But, in the event that your warriors are not quite equal to the task, I have a gift for you." The goddess waved her hand and a quiver of arrows appeared at the King's feet. "If you kill him, well and good, but if he is only wounded, the venom on the tips of these arrows will steal away his strength, and his godlike powers of resilience and health. Unable to resist any disease, or to fight off the infection from the wound, he'll be dead before a month is gone."

The King smiled cruelly as he bowed his head, then stooped to pick up the quiver of deadly missiles. "I'll see that it is done," he vowed.

"I'm counting on it," Hera replied, wondering if this time, at last, she'd be free of this whelp of Zeus', free of the reminder his every breath gave to her husband's infidelity.

* * *

Manocles set aside the wood carving of a stag that he had been working on as he listened to Andros, the leader of the local resistance, explain what they wanted of him. He sighed quietly as he absently stroked the warm lines of the wood, thinking about the possibilities, and the hazards. Finally, he looked up at the men who had crowded into his simple cottage deep in the forest. He hadn't dared remain in the environs of the castle, and had been hidden by his mother as an infant here in the home of the woodcutter. He'd known, all his life, that his very existence was a threat to the rulers of his land. He'd also known he was the rightful heir of the throne, but had wondered if the right was worth his life.

Now, it seemed, the moment had come to decide whether he would take what was his.

"You all understand what you are proposing?" he asked solemnly. "If we fail, Androcles will kill us all, and our families. There will be none left to mourn us, or to even remember that we lived."

The villagers and peasants from the vineyards and farms, the fishers from the sea that bordered their land, all nodded gravely. The risks were great, but none could contemplate living in fear any longer. As for their families, well, their lives were already so uncertain. It made little real difference to make a stand now or simply wait in despair and desolation for death, for it would surely come to them all, whether brave, resolute or weary, frightened or indifferent. The only thing they knew for certain was that there would be no joy, no peace or security in their lives unless they prevailed.

Lifting his head, and squaring his shoulders, Manocles made his decision. He could not risk less than they would freely give him…and they were offering their very lives. Whether he wore the crown or not, these were his people, and they deserved better than what they suffered under Androcles' rule. Nodding, he turned to face the two strangers amongst them, the tall demigod and his resolute warrior partner. "You've determined to stand with us then, to lend us your strength and skill?"

"We have," confirmed Hercules, moved by the quiet passion of the man standing before him, and by the solemn courage of the other men in the room. They deserved a life better than they had known. They deserved a ruler of Manocles' character, someone who led out of love of his people and not for a love of power. He and Iolaus would do all they could to assist this rightful king to his throne.

Iolaus had been standing quietly in the shadow of his friend, but now he stepped forward. "You are all brave men, but to win a victory against the soldiers, you'll need some training. With your permission," he nodded to Manocles, "we'll begin the arms and battle drills at dawn."

"So be it," affirmed Manocles, "and thank you for risking yourselves for all of us. Whatever happens in the days ahead, the two of you will be remembered and honoured by us, and by our children, for all the time to come."

* * *

They had less than a week to prepare, but it was enough. The men of the village and countryside were no strangers to weapons or violence. Wars were a fact of life in Greece, and the skills of how to protect oneself and one's family had been acquired long ago. Men who hunted for food were skilled in the use of the bow and knife. What they needed most was organization, the knowledge of how to array their forces, how to win against superior numbers and weaponry. And, this, the two heroes could give them, with tactics and strategies to maximize their strength and capacities.

They needed no lessons on how to endure, how to act with discipline and conviction, nor in courage. Those qualities the men of the village and countryside had in abundance.

And so, five days later, Manocles offered his challenge to Androcles, claiming back his throne and his people. The King responded with a grim fury. The challenge of another, potentially legitimate, pretender to the throne was vastly different than an irritating uprising by a few disorganized peasants. Androcles sent out his forces with orders to kill, to take no prisoners, to decimate the rebels. Battle was joined, in the forests and fields, on the roads and in the village streets. When it became clear that the rebels were winning, Androcles reacted with furious vindictiveness, burning homes and farms, destroying vineyards, rampaging through the countryside seeking any victim for his wrath.

On the tenth day, the final battle took place in what had been a field of grain, and was now a bloody, muddy morass of death. Neither side gave quarter for the first half of the day, the rebels fighting for their lives and the lives of their families, the soldiers fighting for their own survival, knowing if they lost they would have no future in this place. Men fought with tenacity, with weary resolution, the fire and energy of the earlier battles long spent. Until, finally, looking about the field, seeing the soldiers were failing, having lost heart and hope, Hercules leapt up upon a wagon and bellowed across the field until he'd won their attention.

"Enough!" he cried out. "Enough killing. It's over. Those of you who have fought bravely for Androcles have earned the right to throw down your arms and acknowledge Manocles as your lawful King. Swear allegiance to him now, and you may remain here, you and your families can continue to make your homes here. But, continue to resist, and you will be defeated."

When some hesitated, the hero regaled them with passionate reason. "You all know that Androcles has been no fit ruler, nor is he the rightful king. He has betrayed his trust and abused those who would have followed him loyally. No one, no peasant, no warrior, no craftsman, no king, has the right to act with cruel malice. He does not deserve your support or loyalty…he has given none to you. Only threats, and fear. Is that the kind of King you wish to serve? Is that the kind of man you want to die for?"

"NO!" shouted out one soldier, and his cry was echoed by others, as their swords and lances fell to the mud. "Hail King Manocles!" was shouted over and over by hundreds of voices. The battle for the crown was won.

On the far edge of the field, surrounded still by a loyal contingent of palace guards, Androcles thought he might choke on his rage. Instead, he glared out across the field at the demigod, thinking that the fool had finally made himself an open target. Signaling to his archers, Androcles growled harshly. "Kill them…and then we'll go. There is no more we can do here today."

The archers pulled arrows from the quivers on their backs, notched them and as they had planned it, one let a feathered missile fly toward Manocles, who had also climbed up upon the wagon and was standing next to Hercules. When the demigod lunged to catch the arrow, and so save the life of the rightful king, he left himself open for the second arrow that had flown quickly after the first…a poisoned arrow aimed for his heart.

Hercules sensed the danger, and swiveled sharply, twisting down and to the side, but it was not enough. The arrow caught him high in the right shoulder, causing him to lurch backward, almost losing his footing. But, then he recovered, and his eyes burning with fury, locked on those of Androcles, he reached up and snapped the shaft.

The silence that had followed the assault broke as a wave breaks upon the rocks, crashing hard and flinging itself up and against the barrier before it. As one, the gathered throng turned on Androcles and those few who still stood with him…and, in minutes, they had ravaged the evil king, killing him where before they had been prepared to let him live. He'd earned their hatred a thousand times over, but this last assault was one too many, and they were no longer willing to show him mercy.

Iolaus had thought his heart would stop when he saw the arrow plunge into Hercules' body. While others moved in a tide of fury toward the deposed king, he pushed his way through them to jump up on the wagon beside Hercules, his only interest and concern the well being of his friend. "Are you alright, Herc? Let me look at that."

Hercules shook his head, his face drawn with the regret of watching the victors surge out of control, knowing that more men would die that day before the battle really was finally over. "It's just a scratch," he said quietly, "nothing to worry about." Brushing Iolaus' concern aside, he jumped off the wagon and waded into the throng, to stop the final madness before many more men died.

In the chaos of the moment, no one noticed the peacock feather that settled gently in the mud at Hercules' feet.

* * *

Two days later, after having seen the wounded cared for, the dead honoured, and Manocles installed in the castle, Hercules and Iolaus left the village and headed east along the shores of the Bay of Corinth. The day was overcast, hot and very humid, the trees hanging limply in the heat and it seemed most of the wildlife had found someplace shaded and cool to wait out the day. The turquoise waters of the bay were calm and still as if the sea itself was exhausted by the weary weather, waiting for the cool breath of a storm's wind and the hard lash of rain to bring a new freshness to the earth.

As they ambled along, heading to nowhere in particular, Iolaus kept a concerned eye on his best friend. Hercules had let him extract the arrowhead, and clean the wound, after the battle. But, he'd not let Iolaus fuss with it again. Normally, it wouldn't have been any cause for concern. The wound wasn't serious and Iolaus would have expected that his friend's powers of recovery would have healed the injury by now. But, he could see Hercules absently rub at his shoulder from time to time as if it still bothered him, and though it was hard to tell in such hot and steamy weather, he was pretty sure Herc was running a fever.

When he noticed that Hercules' pace was slowing, he decided it was time to find out what was going on.

"Alright, that's it," Iolaus said, leading the way toward the shore, to a shaded spot in a grove of trees at the water's edge. Hercules appeared preoccupied, and other than giving his friend a puzzled glance, he followed Iolaus quietly, thinking that a swim might cool him off.

Once they were under the trees, Iolaus turned to Hercules and ordered, "Let me see your shoulder."

Herc looked away, once again absently rubbing at the injury, wincing a little. "It's alright, Iolaus. Just a little sore."

But, the blond warrior shook his head and pointed to a rock near the water. "Sit, and let me look at it," he repeated.

Sighing, knowing there was no point in arguing when Iolaus used that tone of voice, Hercules ambled over to the rock and plopped himself down, pulling his vest and shirt loose from his belt and shrugging them off. He really was hot and the water looked invitingly cool.

Iolaus frowned when he saw that blood was still oozing from the bandage. That shouldn't be happening… the injury should have clotted days ago and they'd done nothing to break it open. Moving forward, he removed the dressing and swallowed hard at the redness and swelling, the streaks of infection clear under the demigod's unnaturally gray skin around the wound. Iolaus lifted a hand to Herc's forehead, causing his friend to jerk away in mild annoyance.

"Would you let me be?" Hercules complained. "It's not a serious wound. I'll be fine."

"You're not fine," Iolaus countered quietly, trying not to sound worried. "The wound's infected and you're running a fever."

"It's just hot today," Herc replied, unable to believe that such a modest wound would really make him ill. "I'm going for a swim to cool off."

"Good idea," Iolaus agreed, thinking that anything that helped bring down the fever couldn't hurt. "I'll join you in a few minutes."

While Hercules stripped and plunged into the still, cool waters of the sea, Iolaus started a fire, pulled a small cauldron and collapsible tripod from his pack and set water to boil, then scrounged for herbs to draw out the infection and aid healing. Just before he too stripped and waded into the sea, he pushed a clean rag into the cauldron, to heat in the boiling water.

Hercules was floating on the surface of the water, his face to the sun, eyes closed, when Iolaus swam over beside him. Treading water, the blond warrior studied his friend, noting the slight flush of fever in the demigod's cheeks, noticing the pallor under the hectic red splotches. Frowning, he acknowledged to himself that Herc really was sick, that the wound was festering…that something unusual and potentially dangerous was going on.

"Come back to the shore before you turn into a prune," Iolaus murmured, and when he saw Herc nod his head slightly in acknowledgement, he turned and swam back to shore. Hercules followed him out of the water a moment later, and they both lightly dried their bodies with their vests, leaving some of the moisture to evaporate, and cool them further as it did.

"Sit down, Herc, while I tend to your shoulder," Iolaus directed quietly as he knelt by the fire and using a stick, pulled the hot cloth from the water. Spreading it open on a rock, Iolaus laid some of the herbs he'd gathered inside, then wrapped it, as he stood to move to Herc's side, applying the poultice to his friend's shoulder.

"Issttt! That's hot!" complained the demigod with a frown.

"Uh huh, the better to draw out the poison," Iolaus replied with no apology. "Hold it there while I put some herbs on to boil."

"You're going to make that disgusting tea, aren't you?" Hercules charged, pretending irritation but finally accepting what he'd been trying to ignore. The wound was infected and was making him ill.

"Yep, the same one you make me drink with such gleeful satisfaction whenever you think it'll help fight an infection," Iolaus confirmed, tossing herbs into the steaming water. Looking up at his friend, he could see from Herc's eyes that his buddy was also finally acknowledging that something was wrong.

This wound should not have festered. Herc shouldn't be ill. It wasn't normal.

"You think something was on the arrowhead," Herc murmured, more a statement than a question.

"Don't you?" Iolaus replied, and the demigod nodded wearily in agreement, wondering how bad this was going to get. He hated fevers, hated the fear that in a delirium he could strike out and hurt whoever was near by…and that was usually Iolaus. Of all the regrets he quietly carried as the burdens of his life, one of the most sharp was the knowledge he could do severe damage to his best friend when he was unconscious of his strength, unable to control his behaviours or actions.

Iolaus read the shadow of worry in his friend's eyes, and knew the worry was for him, not for Hercules' himself. "It'll be alright, we'll manage. We always do," he reassured his friend.

Herc just looked away as he held the poultice against his shoulder, wondering what kind of poison had been used against him, and what it's full effects would be.

* * *

Iolaus decided they should stay by the shore for the rest of the day, to let Hercules rest and cool the fever when he needed to. Maybe that would be all he'd need for his natural resilience to kick back in. The heat of the day grew and it became ever more stifling, remaining hot and sticky even after the sun had long set. Iolaus had fished for their food, had changed the poultice a number of times, and had stood watch while his partner slept fitfully during the afternoon and into the evening. As far as he could tell, the infection wasn't getting any worse, but it wasn't getting any better either.

They were up with the sun the next morning, and decided to head further east. Hercules was feeling worse, but he wouldn't admit it. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and there was an ache behind his eyes. His shoulder throbbed and the muscles of his right arm were stiffening. He was worried, but didn't want to alarm Iolaus, and he still hoped that the symptoms were only temporary. Iolaus was also worried, but he held his tongue and contented himself with setting a slow pace and watching to make sure his friend was not overexerting himself. The fever seemed to have worsened during the night.

Clouds blew in overhead from the west, dark and forbidding as they filled the sky. It was midmorning when the storm broke, heralded by a slash of lightning and the thunder's rumble. In moments, torrents of rain were falling, soaking them to the skin. Iolaus spotted a thick grove of trees and led them into its modest shelter. While it was damp, and some of the rain still gusted through on the lashing wind, they were out of the torrential downpour.

With nothing to dry themselves, and the wood too wet to allow a fire, they sat huddled against the trunks of the trees, trying to stay out of the wind. It seemed as if the raging storm would never end, as the rain pelted down and the wind howled through the trees for hours.

Hercules had begun to shiver shortly after they'd taken shelter, and though he rubbed his arms and sat with his knees against his chest, trying to conserve his body heat, the cold he felt was bone-deep. By the time the storm finally ended, he felt a scratching at the back of his throat and had begun to sneeze. Iolaus had pulled a blanket out of his pack and draped it around his shivering friend's shoulders, but it didn't seem to help. The demigod accepted the solicitous gesture, but his temper was thin. He was not used to being ill and didn't like the experience much. Rather than take his annoyance out on Iolaus, he simply sat silently, gritted his teeth and tried to stop shivering.

Iolaus sat nearby, a little behind the demigod, his arms crossed and his knees drawn up to conserve as much of his body warmth as he could. He watched Hercules, a worried frown between his brows. It wasn't just that his friend was sick, though that was so rare as to be almost unknown, it was that Herc's strength seemed to be failing, his energy draining out of him. Iolaus felt a coldness that had nothing to do with the storm or the bitter wind. It was fear that clutched at his heart and twisted his gut. Fear that the poison might be deadly and he didn't know what to do about it, didn't know how to help. Gods, he hated feeling this useless at the best of times, but when it was Hercules who needed him, and there was nothing he could do, it made him feel physically ill.

Finally, the storm passed, leaving cooler air in its wake. While he hated to tax Herc's strength, Iolaus knew they needed to find better shelter, where he could get a fire started and they could be protected from the sharp, cold wind. He helped Herc to his feet, frightened that such help was needed, and he led them further east, tending a little to the south, heading up into the hills toward a cave they'd used in the past. It took about two hours to get there, and when they arrived, he forced Hercules to take off his sopping wet clothes, and to lie down, rolled in the blanket, while Iolaus made a fire and set about making a herbal tea to fight the infection. Half an hour before, Hercules had begun to cough, a harsh, racking sound that seemed to echo up from deep in his chest.

Pneumonia.

Unable to hold onto any hope that Herc was going to get better on his own, Iolaus knew they were going to have to get help…and the only help he could think of for whatever was ailing Hercules was Aesclepius, at Epidaurus, another full day's walk away.

* * *

If anything, the demigod was worse the next morning, coughing roughly and shivering with fever. His shoulder was more inflamed and none of the tea Iolaus made him drink was helping. But, what worried Hercules more than anything else was the increasing weakness he felt, as if his strength was draining away, slowly but inexorably.

Iolaus finished treating his shoulder wordlessly, then turned and kicked out the fire. Packing up his shoulder bag, he fought to bring his own rising fear under control. He had to get Hercules to help before the larger man collapsed completely because, although he could drag Herc on a litter if he had to, it would only take that much longer to get to Epidaurus. At the rate the infection and illness were spreading, he was afraid there was no time to lose.

Hercules watched Iolaus from his position sitting with his back against the wall of the cave, the blanket around his shoulders. He could see the lines of strain around Iolaus' eyes and mouth and knew his buddy was deeply worried about him, though Iolaus was trying to pretend that he wasn't, that there was nothing serious to be worried about. Racked by another deep, exhausting cough, Hercules found himself wondering yet again what Androcles had put on the arrowhead, and where he had gotten the poison.

Wondered if there was an antidote or cure of some kind.

Wondered if he was finally going to find out if he was mortal.

Iolaus stood and hitched the pack over his shoulder, then came to stand in front of his best friend. "Okay, Herc, time to hit the road," he said, leaning down to help his buddy to his feet. Hercules nodded weakly, took Iolaus' arm and pushed himself up from the ground. For a moment, he had to hang onto his friend, as the world spun dizzily around him.

"You okay?" Iolaus demanded as he held on to Hercules, steadying him, worry laced through his voice.

"Yeah, just a little dizzy," Hercules replied, placing one hand on the rock wall as he stood straighter. "I'm alright."

"Sure you are, you're just fine," Iolaus replied, unable to resist the bleak humour. "Come on, the sooner we get to Epidaurus, the sooner Aesclepius can do something about the infection."

Letting Herc precede him, so as to be able to keep an eye on him and give a supporting hand when it was needed, Iolaus followed his friend from the cave, and over the faint woodland track through the hills to the southeast.

Hercules fought the aches that came with the infection, tried to disregard the fever and ignored as best he could the fact that he was growing increasingly weaker as the day progressed. Stubborn, he would not have allowed himself any breaks, but Iolaus noticed whenever he began to stumble or had to reach quickly to a tree for support, and would force him to rest, and to drink the water Iolaus had in a 'skin inside his ubiquitous pack.

As the day wore on, the distances he could travel grew shorter and the breaks longer, and it eventually became obvious that they were not going to make it Epidaurus before nightfall. Hercules became progressively more irritated as time went on and his capacity diminished, unwilling to admit to his fear, determined not to be beaten by whatever was making him so ill. When Iolaus called yet another break, he refused to comply and kept forging on, stumbling but refusing to give in.

Exasperated, also frightened by how quickly Hercules' condition was worsening, Iolaus caught his arm to drag him to a stop. "You need a break," the warrior said firmly.

Hercules pulled his arm from his friend's grasp and pushed Iolaus away, more roughly than he'd intended, muttering, "Leave me alone." Though his strength was greatly diminished, enough still remained to cause Iolaus to stagger and almost fall. Immediately contrite, Hercules reached out to steady his buddy, sighing as he mumbled, "Sorry."

"It's alright, Herc, I know you're frustrated, but you have to rest," Iolaus replied, determined to get his friend to sit down for a few minutes. He could see the fever in Herc's dazed expression and feel the heat radiating from the demigod's body.

"No, we have to keep going," Hercules insisted, afraid to let go of the grim determination that was all that was keeping him on his feet.

"It won't do any good to keep pushing so hard," Iolaus countered. "You're killing yourself, Herc…please, you need to take a break."

Numbly, the demigod shook his head, and turned back to struggle along the trail. Iolaus watched him go, a naked look of grief and dismay on his face. He knew his friend wouldn't be so determined to keep going unless he was afraid that if he quit he'd never be able to get up again. Wishing there was a god he could pray to for help, knowing there wasn't, Iolaus sighed and continued to pace along behind Hercules. Less than an hour later, he had to react quickly to catch the demigod when he began to weave and crumple to the ground.

Easing his friend down, Iolaus propped Herc's shoulders against his bent knee, and reached for his waterskin. "Here, drink this," he said. "You need water to make up what you're losing from the fever."

Hercules drank gratefully, his throat raw with pain and dry from fever. He trembled a little, aching with the fever, dizzy with it. "I can't go any further," he murmured, hating to admit it.

"Not tonight anyway. Maybe you'll feel better in the morning," Iolaus consoled him, knowing there was little hope of that.

Hercules gave him a wry look, silently expressing his doubts that he'd be anything but worse by morning. "Maybe you should go on ahead…you could travel a lot faster without me," he suggested, his voice rough and hoarse.

Iolaus studied him for a moment as he tipped the 'skin to wet a cloth he'd pulled from his pack. Wiping it across Herc's sweat-beaded face, he replied, "I'm not the one who needs to get to Aesclepius. Don't worry, we'll get there tomorrow one way or another."

Hercules gazed up into the determined blue eyes that looked down into his, and he had no doubt that Iolaus would get him to the help he needed, no matter how difficult the journey might prove to be. Wearily, he nodded, knowing Iolaus would never agree to leave him behind. "So tired…" he murmured, relaxing back into Iolaus' strong grip, his head resting against his best friend's shoulder. Despite the danger he knew he was in, he felt safe with Iolaus and knew that if anything could be done to help him, Iolaus would make it happen.

"I know, buddy," Iolaus replied quietly, his voice tight with concern, as he gently brushed Herc's hair back from his eyes. "Rest now while I find us more water and herbs. I won't go far."

Herc's eyelids drooped closed, and he was asleep almost as soon as Iolaus had settled him on the ground where he had fallen, a blanket tightly wrapped around him and soft leaves hastily bunched together to cradle his head.

* * *

Iolaus had set snares along the way when he went to a nearby stream to fill his waterskin, and found a rabbit had been caught by the time he made his way back. Whispering a soft thanks to Artemis for making it easy for him, he skinned the animal and together with the herbs and water, then brewed a nourishing broth that he cajoled Hercules into drinking, with some hope of keeping up his friend's strength. He tended the ever worsening wound on Herc's shoulder, and picking up the rag he'd used earlier, he wetted it again with the cool water and wiped it over his friend's face, shoulders, arms and chest, trying as best he could to fight the raging fever. Hercules was increasingly groggy, not quite fully conscious, his breathing ragged and the racking cough too persistent to really let him rest.

During the night, Iolaus hacked sturdy branches from nearby trees with his sword and built a litter with vines he pulled from the trees. At regular intervals, he roused Hercules enough to pour more of the herbal broth into him, and wiped the fevered sweat from his body with a damp, cool cloth. When Herc had a coughing fit that wouldn't quit, and had trouble getting his breath, Iolaus eased in behind his best friend and raised Hercules' head and shoulders, supporting the demigod with his own body to help him breathe.

Hercules grew increasingly restless as the night progressed, the fever mounting dangerously. Iolaus whispered words of reassurance and held his friend tightly, trying to convey a sense of safety and security to help Hercules relax. At one point, the fevered chills returned, causing Hercules to quake with cold. Iolaus threw wood he'd piled near to hand on the fire, to build it up, and held Herc close to share his own body heat, but the fever was relentless.

Iolaus was almost desperate with worry for his friend. He didn't know how else to help, how to fight a poison whose name he didn't even know. The demigod was rarely ill, his godly inheritance enabling him to throw off the infections and injuries that would bring down a mortal. So when he was seriously ill, Iolaus found it terrifying, even more so when he knew that this was nothing natural, but some kind of deadly poison that was wearing his best friend down, stealing away his life.

In the deep of the night, Herc regained some lucidity, and became aware of the constant whisper of reassurances and encouragement that Iolaus offered as the night wore on to sooth him and to help them both hold onto hope. Iolaus had braced his back against a tree to help him support the demigod's weight, and Herc found himself held tightly in his buddy's arms, his head pillowed on Iolaus' shoulder. Raising his gaze, he saw that Iolaus looked pale in the flickering light of the fire, his face drawn with concern, belying the confidence he invested in his voice, his eyes closed as his head rested against the tree behind him. He'd had no sleep for two days now, nor did he expect to sleep before they reached Epidaurus and he was assured that Aesclepius could do something for Hercules.

"You should rest," Hercules whispered through his raw and painful throat.

Iolaus' eyes popped open and he gazed down at his friend, a slow smile gracing his lips when he realized Herc really was conscious and alert. "Hey, you woke up…how are you doing?" he asked softly, his grip tightening a little.

"Do you want the truth or a lie?" Herc rasped, reaching for a grin of his own and not quite making it.

"You know me, whatever is likely to make me feel better," Iolaus joked back.

"Okay, I feel great, like I could take on two hydras and a ghidra," Hercules responded softly.

"Good man," Iolaus replied, his grin widening, "I'm behind you all the way."

"Uh huh, just like always…behind me, where it's safe," Hercules teased, his eyes laughing despite the pain, secure in the gentle teasing because they both knew the opposite was more often the truth.

"Ow, now that was uncalled for!" Iolaus protested. "You know I only stay behind you 'cause if I was in front you'd just run over me, as if I wasn't even there."

"That's the problem with being…" Herc grinned.

"Don't you say it! Don't you say it's just because I'm short and you can't see me!" Iolaus growled back, pretending to be insulted.

Herc shook his head. "Wasn't going to," he replied, hoarsely. "Was going to say that's the problem with being too brave for your own good."

"Oh, well, that's all right, then. You can call me brave, just don't ever call me short," Iolaus replied affecting to be mollified.

Herc chuckled, but the quiet laughter led to a racking cough that seemed to cut him deeply, leaving him gasping for air, weakened by the effort to breath.

"Easy, buddy, easy," Iolaus soothed as he held his friend tightly, desperately wishing he could do something to help.

Hercules sagged back against his friend, concentrating on his breathing. Finally, he again gazed up at Iolaus, his eyes glazed and filled with the pain he was trying to hide. "Sorry," he whispered.

"For what?" Iolaus asked softly.

"I don't know, for being useless, helpless…scared," Hercules murmured in reply.

"Hey, and here I thought you were just giving me a chance to pay back all those times when you've had to take care of me. I didn't know that all this time whenever I was hurt you thought I was helpless and useless…." Iolaus scolded.

"Didn't, ever, think that," Hercules gasped, still trying to get enough air.

"Fine then, stop apologizing. You might be half god, but you're not invincible…it takes something like this to prove it to you every once in awhile…keeps you humble," Iolaus teased, trying desperately to hold on to the light tone between them, trying not to think about how very bad this could be. Most of all, he didn't want to think about the fact that Aesclepius might not be able to help.

"Yeah, right," Hercules chuckled dryly, "Humble…like you, I suppose?"

Iolaus laughed, he couldn't help it. "Yeah, humble just like me. I try to set the proper example, Hercules, but I'm never sure you're paying attention."

"Always been a great role model," Hercules sighed, also trying to keep it light, but still speaking the truth as he knew it.

"Yeah, well, then follow my example and realize you're going to be alright, just like I always turn out to be alright when I'm hurt or sick," Iolaus said softly.

"Not always," Hercules murmured, his voice so low his buddy could hardly hear him.

But, Iolaus did hear, and the words chilled him. Too many times, Herc had had to make some kind of deal to bring him back, and sometimes even Hercules couldn't work that miracle. His grip tightened, and all trace of humour left his face and voice. "I'm not going to let you go, Herc…if you think you can just slip away, think again. I'll just come after you, I swear it," he said, his voice tight.

"I know," sighed Hercules, drifting off to sleep in the safety of Iolaus' arms.

"Gods, Herc, don't you quit on me," Iolaus whispered as he brushed the hair back from his friend's fevered face. "I'm no good without you…don't you quit on me."

* * *

When dawn finally came, it was only too clear that Hercules was too weak to stand, let alone walk. Iolaus helped him onto the litter and tied him securely, wrapping the blankets around him to keep him warm. The demigod lost his battle to remain conscious, and drifted into the darkness, the only release he had from the pain that assailed him.

Iolaus lifted the poles and began his slow march to Epidaurus, moving as quickly as he could across the uneven, forested ground, pulling a weight much greater than his own. His desperate fear drove him on, past pain, past exhaustion, on and on over the long miles until, finally, just before midday, he reached Aesclepius' sanctuary high in the cool pined covered hills of Epidaurus. As always, the grounds were crowded by people sick unto death from illness or injury, accompanied by frightened family members and friends, who'd come here as a last hope…much as Iolaus had brought Hercules here, knowing there was no where else that would suffice.

Doggedly, beyond exhaustion, Iolaus pushed his way through the crowds to the temple itself. Leaving Hercules lying in the shade of a grove of olive trees, he stumbled into the edifice, standing in the sudden shadow, blinded briefly from coming in out of the harsh light of the day, until he spotted Aesclepius at the far end. Straightening, he moved forward, weaving his way past others who were waiting, ignoring their protests that he should wait his turn.

Aesclepius looked up at the grumbles and complaints directed at Iolaus, frowning when he recognized the warrior and took in his grim, even desperate, aspect. "What's wrong?" he asked sharply.

"Hercules…outside," Iolaus replied. "He's been poisoned…please, he needs you now."

Nodding briefly, the miracle maker finished his work on the child under his hands, then stood to lead Iolaus back out of the sanctuary. When voices raised in protest, he calmed them, saying he'd return shortly, but that he had an emergency to tend to.

Outside, Iolaus led the healer to Hercules, then stood back, watching anxiously as Aesclepius examined his cousin, feeling for the thready, erratic pulse, noting the harsh breathing, the raging fever and Hercules' unconscious, unresponsive state. "When did he receive this wound?" he demanded when he lifted the dressing on the badly infected shoulder.

Iolaus had to think for a moment before answering. "Six days ago," he finally replied. Gods, it felt like an eternity.

Aesclepius stood and signaled to two of his helpers, directing them to bear the litter into the temple and to place it on the altar. He turned then, to face Iolaus. "It's bad," he said quietly, never one to mince words. "I'd heard rumours, whispers amongst the other gods, that Hera has seemed far too pleased with herself recently and all on Olympus have wondered why. I'd guess this is the reason for her uncharacteristic cheerfulness. No mortal could have concocted a poison to take his strength and his resilience, to make him this ill. This is Hera's work."

Iolaus closed his eyes and shook his head, having feared this was the case. "Why am I not surprised?" he muttered. But, then, he returned to the issue at hand. "You can help him, can't you?" he demanded, eyes wide with entreaty, fear and hope mingled in his voice.

"Yes and no," replied the god of healing, with a speculative look at the warrior. "In the end, his survival may depend more upon you than anything I can do."

Iolaus frowned as he contemplated Aesclepius' response. "What do you mean?" he asked anxiously. 'No' wasn't the answer he needed to hear. What could he do to cure Hercules of the effects of this virulent poison?

As the two of them followed the litter into the dim coolness of the sanctuary, Aesclepius explained. "I have a potion which will restore his strength and health temporarily, for perhaps four or five days, but it is not sufficient to neutralize the poison's effects permanently. I've made it for mortals and its diminished strength will not meet his need. Once the effect of the potion wears off, he will fail quickly, I'm afraid, from his current infection which may well be worsened by the diseases he has been exposed to here. There is plague here, Iolaus. You, too, have now been exposed."

Iolaus felt hollow except for the dread that filled him at the god's words, not for himself but for what might still happen to Hercules. Gods, Herc couldn't die. There had to be a way to make him well again. "Can't you just give him something stronger, or keep giving him the medicine?"

Wearily, the healer shook his head. "I have little of it left, and he will need all that I have. But, if you are willing, you can go with him to obtain the only thing that will save him, sacred and potent water that flows into a pool from a spring in a cave deep inside Mount Olympus. It is this sacred spring water that provides the basic ingredient of ambrosia and which the gods use to heal themselves when they are sorely injured by one another. If you can get him to the spring, or bring the water to him, its power will dissolve the poison in his body and make him whole again."

"Sounds simple enough, what's the catch?" Iolaus asked, seeking information about what he was up against, because there was no doubt that he would go after the cure Hercules required.

"There are very real dangers under the mountain, hazards designed to kill any mortals who wander inside or who go deliberately to steal the source of the gods' strength. Monsters, death traps…" Aesclepius' voice trailed off. He was not permitted to give more detailed information to a mortal.

Frowning, Iolaus asked, "Why can't you just flash there, get the water and come back?"

The lean, aesthetic physician stroked his abundant beard as he looked away, wishing he could give another answer. "Hera could not have administered the poison directly. She needed a mortal to act as her agent or she would have been in violation of Zeus' law that no god will kill another god. Still, it all occurred at her instigation and the poison is of her making. I am not permitted to interfere in the actions of another god. I, too, need a mortal to be my intermediary in this. You must be the one to steal water from the pond fed by the eternal spring."

Iolaus sighed wearily. Gods and their stupid, convoluted rules. It seemed to him that they interfered with one another and with mortals whenever they chose, but when he needed them to act, well, it always seemed to be against their damned rules. Well, fine, he'd go get the water and bring it back.

"Okay, just tell me where to find this cave. I'll leave now and bring back what you need," he said, ready to go immediately, but Aesclepius laid a hand on his arm to stop him.

"No, there is not enough time. You and Hercules need to go together. And, Iolaus, he must drink at least two cupfuls of the magical water. I'll also give you extra skins to bring some of the water back to me, to make more of the potion I use to aid mortals with life-threatening diseases. But, remember, though you may very well be badly hurt in this quest, or ill yourself from the diseases you have contacted by being here, you must not drink the pure water. Its qualities are too strong for any mortal, and you would die in agony."

"Uh huh," replied Iolaus giving Aesclepius a wry look as he rubbed the back of his neck and thought about what he'd just been told. The god believed he was likely to sustain severe injury before all this was over, but the life-giving waters would be of no help to him. Not until he and Herc got the skins of water back here, where the god could dilute it with other ingredients, to make it safe to give to mortals. Just once, he wished that the solutions to their problems could be easy. But, he only asked, "When will Herc be ready to travel?"

"I'll give him the potion now, and by morning he should be ready to leave," Aesclepius responded, turning away to attend to his cousin.

Iolaus watched him, his expression grim and his eyes dark. He felt such impotent fury at Hera for having done this to Hercules but fury would do Herc no good. Still, Iolaus reflected honestly to himself, he was holding on to the anger because it was better than feeling scared to death. His heart twisted with despair and compassion to see Hercules so pale and weak, so sick and unable to take care of himself. He knew Herc hated being helpless, more than a person would normally feel, because it was such a contradiction to everything he was, everything he stood for. But, worst of all, was the realization that Aesclepius believed this poison had the power to kill his best friend. Iolaus bit his lip and shoved his fingers through his hair, trying desperately to hold his fear for Hercules in check, to not let it overwhelm him.

He had a mission to fulfill, a quest to get the sacred water to save Herc's life, and fury or fear would only distract him. He needed to stay focused on doing what had to be done.

* * *

Iolaus tried to sleep, and did for an hour or so, but he found he couldn't fight off his sense of restless dread. Finally, he gave up and went to sit beside the cot where Hercules had been sleeping ever since Aesclepius had roused him enough yesterday to drink the mystical potion. The healer had held back a small amount of the potion to make a salve to rub directly into the shoulder wound before bandaging it securely. Although Iolaus couldn't sleep, he felt bone-weary, and he worried whether he'd be equal to the task of getting the water from the sacred spring. If he didn't, Hercules would die. As he studied his sleeping friend, gratefully noting that the signs of illness and pain had disappeared from Herc's face, he vowed to himself that he'd do whatever it took to make sure Hercules would be permanently cured of the poison's effects.

Somewhere in the deep hours of the night, Aesclepius came to check on his cousin, and Iolaus was glad to see the healer was pleased with Herc's apparently natural sleep. "He'll be strong again by morning," the occasional god murmured, showing uncharacteristic gentleness as he tucked the blanket tenderly around his cousin's shoulders. Aesclepius' chosen demeanor was one of brisk efficiency, even cold dispassion, but he'd always harboured a deep likening for this son of Zeus. Having traveled the road between divinity and mortality himself, he could understand Hercules better than could most of their other relatives, understand the challenges and choices, the burdens and even the despair at the uncaring arbitrary whimsy of the gods on Olympus.

"How did this happen?" he asked quietly, pulling a stool up to sit alongside Iolaus.

"We were helping to depose a cruel tyrant and reclaim the throne for the rightful king. The battles were over, it was done, when the bastard had Herc shot with the poisoned arrow. They'd distracted Hercules with another arrow aimed at the rightful ruler. He caught it, and saved the man, but didn't have time to avoid the arrow shot at himself," Iolaus replied, his voice a little flat.

Curious, thinking there might be more to the story, Aesclepius watched Iolaus quietly, his silence inviting further comment. Iolaus gazed at Hercules, and the astute healer could see so much in those expressive eyes. Love, anger, worry, guilt. "He had been storming away from the village, furious with the tyrant, when I persuaded him to stay to help the villagers and peasants," Iolaus said finally, a frown between his brows.

"So, you think this is your fault, then?" Aesclepius queried gently, thinking he now understood the guilt he saw shadowing those brilliant blue eyes.

Wearily, Iolaus nodded. "Yeah, I do. You know, whenever I've been hurt by some monster or bad guy, Herc blames himself, but it's never his fault. So, I've been trying to tell myself that this isn't my fault either, but I know that it is. He wouldn't have been anywhere near that arrow if I hadn't stopped him from leaving the village."

"He didn't have to stay, didn't have to agree to help those people, Iolaus. That was his decision," Aesclepius replied. He knew both these men well enough to know the keen sense of protectiveness they each had for the other, the sense of responsibility they each felt for the other's safety and well being. But, they took on so many challenges, so many impossible odds to help those who were vulnerable that it was inevitable that, on occasion, one or the other would suffer injury.

Iolaus nodded silently, but knowing something to be true, and feeling it were not the same things. His head told him this was none of his doing, but his heart felt the burden of having led Hercules to this. "Whatever," he finally said. "I have to make it right. Can you tell me any more about what I'll have to deal with under Olympus?"

Sadly, reluctantly, Aesclepius shook his head. "Beyond telling you where to find the entrance to the caverns, I'm afraid I can't, I'm sorry. But, I can caution you that you should not take on this responsibility lightly. It is very hazardous, Iolaus…I was serious when I warned you that you might well be sorely injured before it's all over and there are limits to even what I might be able to do to help you."

"Doesn't matter," Iolaus murmured softly as he gazed at his best friend and thought about how necessary it was that he be successful in getting the sacred water for Hercules. "He hates it when I take risks for him. He doesn't understand that the whole point of my life is to be there for him, to lend whatever help and support I can. He's amazing, you know? He gives everything that he is to other people, and never expects anything in return. All by himself, he tries to make up for all the pain and sorrow the other gods cause people to suffer. But, he's just one person and he never takes care of himself. So, he takes care of the world, and I try my best to take care of him. Hera has taken everything from him, his family, the hope of any normal life. Now, she's trying to take his life. I won't let her have it, not so long as I can ever do anything to stop her."

Aesclepius sighed as he stood and laid a gentle hand on Iolaus' shoulder, drawing his eyes. "She hasn't taken everything from him, my friend. She hasn't taken you…I hope she never does. Just as he doesn't seem to understand your determination to risk everything for him, I doubt you understand that you are the foundation he stands upon. He needs you as much as you need him…so, take care when you go up against those monsters, and tread warily through the caverns beneath Olympus. He would not deem his life worth the cost if he loses you."

"No, I guess not…but, I would," Iolaus reflected quietly. "Nothing, not even my own life, is as important to me as he is."

Aesclepius patted him on the shoulder, then turned to check on his other charges. Wondering what it would be like to have a friend who would die for him, he found himself hoping the cost of saving Hercules would not be one the demigod would never choose to pay.

Hercules woke about half an hour after the sun peeked over the eastern horizon. Iolaus watched him silently take stock of his health and strength, saw the smile break like the sun had at dawn and the anxiety drain away from his friend's eyes, replaced by the sure, quiet confidence that was so much a part of who Hercules was. He wished he didn't have to tell Herc that this newly regained health was only temporary. "Morning," he said quietly.

Hercules turned his head, and saw Iolaus sitting there, a somber look in his eyes for all that he'd accompanied his greeting with a warm smile. "Morning," the demigod replied with a wide grin, sitting up smoothly and stretching, thinking Iolaus was still worried about him and just needed to be reassured that he was back to normal. "You did it, Iolaus…you got me here in time for Aesclepius to defeat the effects of the poison. Thanks, buddy."

Iolaus' smile faltered and he looked away briefly, then sighed and ploughed right in with the facts. "Sorry, Herc, it's only temporary, I'm afraid. Your cousin gave you something to fight off the effects of the poison for a few days, but we need to get more of the stuff before you can be cured permanently."

"Oh?" the demigod replied, his own smile fading, wondering how hard it was going to be to accomplish that task. From the look on Iolaus' face, and his slumped shoulders, it clearly wasn't going to be easy. "What stuff? Where is it?"

Iolaus stood as he replied, "It's some kind of magical, sacred water that heals gods and demigods. If you're feeling alright, then we should something to eat and head out as soon as we can."

"Fine," Hercules replied as he, too, stood. "Where do we find this magical water?"

"Mount Olympus," Iolaus replied, as he turned away, heading toward the far end of the sanctuary where supplicants could get a cup of juice and some bread and cheese.

"What?" Hercules exclaimed, surprised and not a little confused. "What do the gods have to do with any of this?"

Iolaus flicked him a look back over his shoulder, as he explained, "The gods? Nothing. We're not climbing the mountain, we're going inside. There's a sacred spring under the mountain, and that's the water you have to drink to cleanse the poison from your system. In return for being given the information about where to find this spring, Aesclepius has asked us to bring some of the water back for him, to make more of the potion from it for the mortals who come to him for help. Frail things that we are, we can't drink the pure stuff."

By that point, they'd reached the table with the juice and food arrayed upon it. Iolaus poured two cups of juice and handed one to Hercules before he picked up a hard roll and a slice of cheese for himself. Hercules took a healthy swig of the juice, then he also picked up a hunk of bread and a chunk of cheese.

"What happens if we don't get the water?" he asked, wanting to have it all spelled out.

"You'll die," Iolaus said tightly, then turned away, heading out of the cool darkness of the sanctuary into the bright morning light.

"Oh," Hercules murmured to himself, one brow raised. "Well, I guess that's clear enough." Taking a bite of the bread, he followed Iolaus out into the sunlight.

* * *

Mount Olympus was in the north of Greece, a long way from Epidaurus in the Pelopponnese. Knowing that they only had, at the outside, five days before Herc's strength would wane, Iolaus set a grueling pace, keeping up a constant, ground-eating jog as they headed over the hills to the peninsula east of Corinth, where they'd be able to turn north.

Iolaus' uncharacteristic silence and his driving urgency worried Hercules, but at first he waited to see if Iolaus would tell him more of what was going on. However, after a couple of hours had passed without a single word being exchanged between them, he loped up beside his friend, and asked as they ran along, "Are we in a hurry to get there?"

"Yeah," Iolaus responded shortly.

"How much of a hurry?" the demigod persisted, wondering what Iolaus didn't want to tell him.

"Enough that we won't stop to rest until tomorrow night, and then only for a few hours before we head out again," Iolaus replied, his eyes ahead, wishing he could avoid having to spell it out for Hercules. He knew his friend was not going to be happy about the fact he was unlikely to be able to help once they actually got to Mount Olympus. If Herc decided it would be too dangerous for Iolaus, he might refuse to go at all, preferring to lose his own life than risk Iolaus'.

"When did you plan to tell me why we need to be in such a hurry? I know you said the potion's effects are temporary…maybe you should tell me how long they will last," Hercules pushed for more information. It was only too clear that Iolaus was deliberately holding something back.

At first, Iolaus didn't answer, but after a few minutes, his gait slowed until he'd come to a halt. He looked up at the sky for a long moment, then turned to face his taller friend. "The potion Aesclepius gave you will only hold off the effects of the poison for at most five days. After that, he said you'd 'fail quickly', from a combination of the poison and the original infection and the added complications of whatever diseases you've contracted from the people suffering in his sanctuary. Some had plague. I want to get as close to Olympus as we can in the next five days, because after that, every minute is going to count."

"What else?" Hercules asked, as he studied Iolaus' troubled face and noticed his buddy wasn't quite making eye contact.

Iolaus shifted a bit, then replied, "The sacred spring is protected by a few hazards…."

"Hazards? What kind of hazards?" Hercules asked, feeling a curl of anxiety. The demigod had already done the math and knew he was short of the time needed to reach Olympus. What exactly did Iolaus plan to face on his behalf?

"Oh, nothing we haven't handled before, just a few monsters and death traps. But, because of them, it may take awhile to get in and back out again. I…well, I'd feel better if you were nearby, that I didn't then have to travel any great distance to get back to you with the waterskins."

Iolaus figured that it was at least six days to the Olympian range, even at the pace he'd set. There was no way Herc would be able to make it all the way to Olympus before his strength failed him and illness and poison brought him down.

When Herc didn't say anything, Iolaus finally looked up at him and saw a worried frown between his friend's brows, Herc's eyes dark with concern. "Iolaus…you've already decided to do this on your own, haven't you? If Aesclepius is right about the amount of time I have, I won't be able to help you once we get there."

"I know," Iolaus replied, turning to continue their journey, but Hercules laid a hand on his shoulder, bringing him back around.

"'Monsters and deathtraps'? Iolaus, I don't want you going in under the mountain to face that alone," Hercules said quietly.

Iolaus grinned then, because they were at last on ground he was comfortable with. "Too bad, big guy. We don't have any choice."

"Yes, Iolaus, we do," Hercules replied. "I don't want you getting killed to save my life."

"Tough," Iolaus shot back, his voice a bit sharp so as to be perfectly clear that this wasn't up for discussion. "This isn't about what you want…it's about what I want. Besides, it's not like I haven't taken on a monster before." He pulled away from Herc's grip and turned, breaking into a run as he again led the way over the mountain trail.

"Iolaus!" Hercules called out, but his buddy didn't turn back, just called over his shoulder, "Hurry it up, Herc, time's awasting!"

Hercules hesitated a moment, wondering if he should call a halt now. But, it wasn't in either of their natures to just give up, and he told himself he could fight off the poison long enough to help Iolaus get to the sacred spring. When Iolaus again looked back and waved at him impatiently to keep up, he nodded and set off to catch up with his partner.

* * *

And so, they ran. For four days, they only stopped for water, to buy food they could eat on the run in markets as they raced through quiet villages, and to sleep for a combined total of seven hours. Hercules had felt fine throughout the forced march, and hoped that maybe Aesclepius had exaggerated how ill he was likely to become. Maybe the potion had worked just fine and he wouldn't need anything more, or maybe its effects would last longer than the healer had predicted.

But, as the fourth day wore on, he began to feel small aches in his muscles, and his shoulder again sent little daggers of pain radiating down his arm and into his chest. He had to work harder to keep running, it was no longer effortless. And, he knew then that Aesclepius had been, as always, depressingly precise in his diagnosis.

He didn't say anything at first to Iolaus, not wanting to give his friend any thing more to worry about, but then he didn't have to say anything. Iolaus had been watching him carefully, and noted when his pace became a little strained and when he worried at his shoulder, rubbing it and his arm unconsciously. Which left Iolaus with a dilemma. Was it better to keep running or would that eat up what was left of Herc's unnatural energy? Or did it matter whether they ran or walked, the only issue being time and that was fast running out? Finally, he decided to keep running as long as Herc could sustain the pace. They still had a long way to go.

They were running through a pastoral valley, along the edge of a farm, when Iolaus spotted the farmer riding one horse and leading another down the country lane, heading toward a barn in the distance. Slowing, he called to the farmer and when the man pulled up, he muttered to Hercules, "Wait here," then jogged over to talk to the man. Herc saw the farmer look past Iolaus to stare at him for a moment shaking his head in a weary sort of way, but Iolaus kept talking and Hercules saw him dig in his belt for the small pouch he shoved there on the rare occasions when he had a dinar or two to call his own. The farmer again shook his head, more forcibly this time, waving the silver away. Pulling on the lead, he drew the horse he was leading forward and handed the rope to Iolaus. The warrior nodded in apparent gratitude, waved at the stranger and then turned to jog back to Hercules, the horse trotting along behind him.

Giving the horse a wary look, Hercules asked, "What was that all about?"

"I borrowed a horse," Iolaus said, his tone conveying that he thought this was fairly obvious.

"If you think I'm going to ride that nag, you don't know me very well," Hercules said with a grimace.

"Don't worry, hero," Iolaus replied with more than a touch of sarcasm. "I know you wouldn't be caught dead on a horse unless my life depended on it. It's not for you…it's for me."

His eyes narrowed, not understanding, Hercules shook his head. "What do you mean by that?"

"You'll see," Iolaus replied cryptically as he once again began to lope along the dusty trail, Hercules following close behind.

* * *

The fever was back by noon of the next day, and Hercules couldn't run any further, but he could still walk, and he refused to give up until there was no other choice. By the end of that afternoon, he was shaking with fever chills, his breathing becoming laboured, his shoulder again on fire, but still he staggered on. Both of them knew that before long he wouldn't be able to stand, let alone walk, and they were still at least a day away from their destination. From time to time, Iolaus would look at the horse and then pointedly at Hercules, but the stubborn demigod just shook his head and pushed himself forward. Iolaus sighed, but he didn't say anything.

Finally, it was Iolaus that brought their forced march to an end. He couldn't stand seeing Hercules stumbling along any longer, and knew that his buddy was reaching the end of whatever energy he had left. It was time to conserve it, the mystical energy of the potion having completely dissipated. Iolaus had already been lending support, Hercules leaning heavily upon him, so all he had to do was stop and the demigod had to lurch to a halt beside him.

"Enough, buddy," Iolaus said quietly, "you've done enough."

Hercules stood swaying, his eyes glazed, his face beaded with sweat and lined with pain, his colour gray under the hectic flush of the fever on his cheeks. "I have to keep walking…we're not close enough yet," he wheezed, hating his weakness, his sense of helplessness. Hating most of all the knowledge that Iolaus was going to face whatever hazards existed under that damned mountain on his own. But, they'd come too far to quit and he knew that even if he refused to go a step further, Iolaus would either drag him the rest of the way or leave him and then just have to race back, adding more to the burden he already was for his stalwart friend.

"I know, and we'll get closer before I head off to get the water, but you can't walk any farther, Herc. You need to rest," Iolaus replied, leading his friend toward a small clearing by a small stream they'd been following through the forest. Carefully, Iolaus eased Hercules down to the ground, where he could rest his back against a tree. Tying the lead of the horse to another nearby tree, he said quietly, "I'm going to make a litter, Herc. I won't be long."

Wearily, Hercules nodded then leaned his head back against the trunk, his eyes closed, as he concentrated on drawing air into his congested lungs. Iolaus studied him for a moment, his heart twisting with fear. Gods, time was running out. He had to hurry. Turning, he found the branches and vines he needed and hastily rigged a litter, laying one of their blankets across it before dragging it over toward Hercules. He had to rouse Hercules who had already drifted off, his body craving rest, and help his friend onto the litter. Then, he tucked the second blanket tightly around the demigod's body.

"Iolaus," Hercules croaked, finally accepting that he was not going to be able to face the hazards of Olympus with his best friend. "This isn't any good…you can't do this alone."

"What, after all this time, you've lost confidence in my abilities?" Iolaus protested, forcing a grin as he pretended to be insulted.

"No…but, it's too dangerous, I can't ask…" Hercules whispered past his raw throat, wincing at the pain that simply breathing seemed to cause.

"You don't have to ask, Herc," Iolaus replied quietly, brushing the hair back from Hercules' eyes. "Nor can you stop me, big guy. You don't have the strength left to take on a kitten, so you sure as Tarturus wouldn't be any match for me…don't try to fight me on this. You'll only lose."

Hercules gazed up into the sincere, determined gaze of his friend, and his jaw tightened against the emotion he felt. "I'm sorry," he whispered, and he reached up to grasp Iolaus' wrist. "I don't want you hurt because of me."

"I'll be okay, you'll see. We've beaten worse than this, Herc. Just rest now and leave everything to me," Iolaus said with a soft smile as he patted his friend's shoulder. Then he stood and and went to get the horse, backing it up between the bars of the litter, and then rigging a crude halter to bind the bars to the horse. Pulling on the rope, he got the horse moving at a good steady pace toward Olympus.

"Smart," Hercules mumbled, finally realizing why Iolaus had stopped for the horse the day before.

"Well, I'm not just a pretty face," Iolaus replied dryly. He could have dragged the litter if he'd had to, but he knew he'd be facing strenuous challenges under Olympus. It would be hard enough, tired as he was, without exhausting himself unnecessarily. When he'd spotted the horse, he'd known it was the answer to their need.

They traveled the rest of the day and most of the next night before they finally came to the base of Olympus and the entrance to the cave that Aesclepius had told him would give entry to the caverns below. Hercules had tried to hold onto consciousness, but the infections that raged through his body and the power of the poison itself were too much for him to fight off. Hours before, he had succumbed to the darkness, the fever climbing and his breathing increasingly congested and uncertain.

Near the cave entrance, Iolaus unhitched the horse and propped the litter up on a sturdy log to help the demigod breathe more easily, and then set about making a camp for Hercules. He gathered wood and lit a fire, scouted for a stream and filled a waterbag which he would leave close at hand for his friend. Warmth and water were about all he could do for Herc until he could bring what he really needed from beneath the mountain. The horse had wandered a little, grazing contentedly. Iolaus moved to its side, rubbing its nuzzle as he said softly, "Well, you got us here my friend, and now you can go on back home. One way or another, we won't be needing you any more. Your owner said you'd find your way, so off you go, with my thanks." Iolaus clipped the animal on one haunch, sending it cantering out of the clearing, heading back south.

The sky was lightening by the time he'd finished what needed to be done. He knelt on one knee beside Hercules, and placed the waterskin in his friend's hand. Gods, he hated to leave him like this. Hercules was deeply unconscious, his breath rattling in his chest, his face drawn and gray, the heat of the fever radiating from him in waves.

Iolaus dampened a cloth from his bag, and wiped the sweat from Herc's face, brushing back the damp hair from his face. He gripped the demigod's shoulder, and said in a low, intense voice, hoping some part of Hercules could still hear him, "I'll be back as quit as I can, Herc. You just make sure to still be here when I get back, okay? I don't want to have to chase after you all the way to Elysium, but I will if I have to. Don't make me have to."

With a last long look, Iolaus rose and turned to loop a long rope of vine he'd bound together over his shoulder in case he needed it to traverse hazards. He made sure his sword was secure in its scabbard, loosened the knife in his boot and slung the five waterbags Aesclepius had given to him to fill over his shoulder. He picked up a long branch he'd sharpened into a stake and then bent to shove a torch he'd made into the fire, to give him light inside the depths of the cave. He was as ready as he was ever going to be.

Pushing his weariness aside, he strode purposefully to the entrance of the cave and moved forward into its shadows.

Nothing short of death would keep him from successfully completing this quest. If he failed, Herc, would die and there was no way Iolaus could imagine living with that reality. So, either they both lived, or they both died. The next couple of hours would determine what their fates would be.

* * *

The entrance to the cave had been obscured by brush and he'd have never known it was there if Aesclepius hadn't've given him precise directions on how to find it. Inside, it was low-ceilinged, damp and very dark. Holding the torch high, Iolaus proceeded with caution, having no idea what to expect, only that the way to the pool was dangerous. After about ten minutes of winding through the narrow tunnel, he saw an unnatural brightness ahead of him, and noticed that the air had been growing steadily hotter. Three minutes later, he'd rounded yet another curve, and had to pull up sharply as the ground gave way to a steep, sheer cliff that dropped down to molten lava far below. Had he been traveling any more quickly, or less cautiously, he'd not have been able to stop himself from plunging into the fiery depths.

"Nice," mumbled Iolaus, examining his surroundings, and noticing a shelf about thirty feet across the chasm and about forty feet below his current position. There was a dark shadow at the back of the shelf and Iolaus assumed it was the entrance to more tunnels. Had to be, there was no where else to go and Aesclepius wouldn't have sent him if the only path was through lava that would incinerate him.

Throwing his improvised spear across the chasm to land with a sharp rattle on the shelf below, he winced at the noise, figuring he had just alerted the denizens of this dark domain that they had company. Shrugging off the rope he'd fashioned, he looped one end of it around an upjutting stone and tied it off securely. Then, he looped the other end of it around his left arm, gripping it tightly in that hand while he retained the torch in his right hand. Jogging back a few steps, he turned back toward the chasm and launched himself into a hard, fast run. As he reached the lip of the chasm, he leapt into the air, jumping out as far as he could, hoping his momentum would carry him far enough across. His speed and trajectory were almost going to be enough…almost. Hastily, he put the torch between his teeth and reached out with his right hand, snagging the stone edge of the ledge just as he began to fall past it, bringing his body to a jarring halt.

'Well, this is awkward,' he thought as he swung from one hand, the other still gripping the rope and the torch getting in his way, preventing him from pressing against the sheer rock and pulling himself up. Gingerly, carefully, he pulled the torch from his mouth with his left hand, taking care to keep the flames from the vine hanging now from his wrist. Tossing it up and over, it landed somewhere up on the ledge. He turned himself and lunged up at the same time, snagging the fingers of his left hand on the edge and hauled himself up, sincerely hoping there wouldn't be an enthusiastic welcoming party waiting for him.

It turned out that the sudden appearance of the hot flames of the torch had startled the huge cat-like creature that had been crouched just past the lip of the ledge, and had driven it back in surprise to the security of the shadows. It wasn't much of an advantage, but it was all Iolaus was going to get. As his head cleared the edge, his eyes locked on those of the beast, and he heard the low menacing growl.

"Nice kitty," he said softly as he carefully hauled himself up and away from the edge, and eased toward the stake lying not three feet away. The growl increased in volume and the cat came up into a tight crouch, stalking toward him, tail lashing hypnotically. It could have passed for a very large mountain lion, except for its unnaturally long fangs and claws, which clicked on the stone as it moved forward a pace at a time, assessing this new enemy.

Iolaus was crouched low, and bent further to reach slowly for the stake. Just as he had it within his grasp, the beast lunged toward him. He rolled away to the side, taking the stake with him, handicapped a little in his movements by the vine rope that was still twisted around his left wrist and was now looping around his body as he rolled. 'Damn it,' he thought, feeling the vine bind him, but there was no time to worry about it, only time enough to adjust to it.

He twisted his head to place the cat, and saw it leap toward him, jaws wide, claws extended. He jammed the sharpened stake up and toward the beast, driving his weapon into the cat's chest and then used it and the monster's own momentum to lever the cat forward and over his body. Gods, it was huge, and heavy! A front claw lashed at his left leg as the cat flew by and a back claw tore along the skin of his left arm, both causing long, painful wounds.

But, the weight and speed of the cat carried it up and over. Though it twisted frantically, and screamed out at the pain of the stake in its chest, it couldn't stop itself. Iolaus let the stake go as the cat cleared the edge of the small ledge and plummeted into the fiery lava below. For a moment, he laid on the cool stone breathing heavily, waiting for his heart to drop down from his throat to its proper place in his chest. The wounds burned into his consciousness and he twisted to sit up and examine them. Not too deep. Good.

He grabbed his knife and cut off two lengths of the vine to tie around his left arm and right leg, to stop the bleeding as quickly as possible, as he had no bandages with which to bind the wounds. He counted for three minutes, then loosened the bindings, glad to see the bleeding had slowed. He scrambled to his feet and took stock of his environment. There were a number of small rock outcroppings jutting up from the shelf near the entrance to the tunnel beyond. He loosely tied the end of the vine rope to the one closest to the edge of the rock shelf, picked up his torch and carried on into the darkness beyond.

Not fifteen minutes had passed since he'd entered the cave and he'd already encountered two hazards. He wondered if it would get easier, or harder, as he moved farther in.

* * *

Hercules groaned and blinked, rasping for air. His throat was raw and it felt as if he was on fire. Sluggishly, he looked around and became aware of the waterskin in his hand, the well-stocked fire burning close by. Lifting the 'skin with an aching arm, he managed to gulp down some of the water, and then his head fell back against the blanket covered litter.

"Iolaus?" he croaked through lips cracked and dry from the fever. He squinted to clear his vision, and figured it must be about an hour after dawn, given the light and position of the sun. Gods, Iolaus must have already left him to find the source of the healing, magical spring. He twisted on the litter, trying to figure out where his buddy had gone and spotted the entrance to the cave about fifteen feet away.

He wanted so badly to rise from the litter and follow his friend, wanted to help. But, the effort of trying to disengage himself from the blanket that was twined around his body defeated and exhausted him. Cursing with frustration, sick with fear for his friend and feeling a degree of self-hatred that it was because of him that Iolaus was facing gods knew what dangers, he sagged back against the support of the litter. A coughing spasm took him, and he was almost gagging, desperate for air by the time it ended, leaving him weak and limp as a wet rag. He dragged in each breath, feeling it burn through his throat and chest, feeling helpless and hating it.

"Gods, Iolaus," he panted, unable to get enough air, as the darkness again crowded in on the edge of his vision, "be careful, buddy. Please come back safely."

Hercules really didn't care if Iolaus made it back with the healing water, so long as he made it back in one piece.

* * *

Iolaus had traveled another half mile underground. He'd discovered that the cave was an old lava channel from the razor-like sharpness of the silicone shards imbedded in the stone when he'd cut his left hand by brushing too close to the wall. Sucking at the injury, cursing the gods, Hera in particular, he continued forward, wondering what would come at him next and when.

He didn't have much longer to speculate. He rounded another twist in the narrow, low tunnel and came up against a solid wall. "What the…?" he mumbled as he pushed experimentally at the stone wall, but it was definitely very solid. Sighing, he raised his torch and looked at the walls around him, wondering if he'd somehow missed a side tunnel along the way. He was about to turn back when he spotted a small, dark opening about six feet above his head.

"Well, this should be fun," he muttered as he wondered how he was going to get up there. The space around him was too tight and narrow to take a running leap. He jumped, reaching high, but fell short of his objective. "Damn it," he cursed quietly as he studied the wall. There didn't seem to be any cracks or faults in the wall he could use as hand or footholds. Suddenly, he heard a curious deep rumbling and looked around, wondering what was causing the sound. His heart almost stopped when he realized the wall opposite the high tunnel opening was moving toward him.

"I hate this," Iolaus murmured to himself. "I really hate this." He'd always had an unreasonable fear of dark, enclosed spaces, believing that it was only a matter of time before he became trapped, unable to move and was suffocated to death in the dark. Still, he thought, while every crisis carries a threat, it also carries opportunity. Swallowing hard to quell his fear, he realized that as scary as this was, it might just work for him. Planting his back against the wall, directly under the tunnel opening, he watched the far wall draw closer and closer. Finally, it was close enough for him to plant his feet against it. As quickly as he could, he 'walked' his way up the wall, his knees pressing hard into his chest before he reached the opening above.

It was going to be close.

Finally, he fell back into an open space and with his elbows, he dragged himself backwards just as the wall outside crashed into the wall he'd had his back against. He'd tossed the torch backward and it cast an eerie glow in the space that was barely big enough for him. Herc would never have been able to fit into this tunnel. He took deep breaths to dampen his terror, and wondered if the wall snapped back, or if he'd have to find another way out. Squirming around to lie on his stomach, he was just pushing himself forward, once again holding the torch in his right hand, when he heard the low grinding of stone on stone, and realized the wall was pulling back to its original position. He sighed in relief. There was no way he'd relished the idea of crawling around tunnels trying to figure how to get out of this maze.

He had to grit his teeth against his atavistic fear as he crawled further in, and the tunnel tightened around him. Gods, how much farther? Finally, when he wasn't sure he could stand it much longer, it widened out and the ceiling rose so that he could at least stand. Iolaus took a deep, calming breath and felt his heartbeat drop down to a more normal rate as he scrambled to his feet.

His relief was short lived.

There was a curious swishing sound from up ahead, and a hissing that did not bode well. Iolaus shifted the torch to his left hand and pulled out his sword, holding it ready as he moved cautiously forward.

Around yet another twist in the tunnel, the cave opened into a wide, shadowed cavern. He paused in the entrance to peer into the space ahead and up to see how high it was. It was that cautious curiosity that saved him. A huge serpent, glittering crimson and gold, was twined around a stalactite almost directly above him, its green whirling eyes narrowed against the light of the torch.

"Too bright for you?" Iolaus asked conversationally, as he waved the torch up toward the creature to see if the light and heat would drive it back.

Unfortunately, the proximity of the torch just aggravated the monster, and its fanged, hinged jaws opened wide with a roar as they darted toward him.

"Yo!" Iolaus shouted as he rolled away from the teeth streaking toward his head and came up onto his knee, his sword up and flashing, cutting into the creature's neck, drawing forth a spurt of green blood.

Surprised by the speed and agility of its prey, frenzied by the attack, the creature dropped from the stalactite, and curled, its tale up and weaving, a stinger clearly visible.

"Can't you guys ever have an ordinary tail? What would be wrong with a rattle?" Iolaus asked, exasperated, as he rose to his feet to circle the creature. "Think of the fashion statement that would make." But, he knew it wasn't just a matter of getting past it. He had to disable it, kill it, or he'd just have to face it again on his way back out. Studying the twenty-foot long monster, he wondered what its vulnerabilities might be.

While he was wondering, the stinger darted out toward him. He leapt back and swung down hard with the sword, cutting the stinger from the end of the tail, unleashing another fountain of green blood and drawing an enraged twisting and hissing howl from the snake. Maddened by its pain, the monstrous creature flung itself upon him, one fang sinking into his left shoulder, causing him to cry out from the burning agony of the sharpened ivory that pierced his body. He hacked at the creature with his sword, cutting deeply. In response the snake curled about him, intending to squeeze the life out of him, but its very size was its handicap. As it writhed, it released the grip on his shoulder and slammed him back against the wall of the cavern, where sharp edges and tiny needles of ancient lava penetrated the back of his vest, drawing blood of their own. Iolaus lurched back from the wall, and crouched, drawing his knife from his boot with his left hand, cursing the numbness that seemed to flow from his injured shoulder.

He paused a moment to decide his move. As he hesitated, the snake struck out again and he had to roll away from the gaping jaws, under the raised head. On the other side of the snake, he leapt up onto its back, driving both the knife and the sword deeply into the junction of neck and body, angled into the braincase of the creature. It lurched and lashed, thrashed madly, throwing him from its back and rolling over him in its blind agony, crushing him into the stone of the cavern floor. Groggy, he pushed himself into a crouch and lunged back toward the wall, out of the way of the thrashing body as the monster danced out its death.

Until, finally, it was still.

Iolaus' chest heaved as he dragged in air, and he unconsciously wiped sweat from his brow as he stared at the dead monster. Blood dripped from his shoulder and from the reopened wounds of his arm and leg, and from the small puncture wounds in his back. His left arm was growing increasingly numb and he wondered how deadly the venom of this monster was likely to be. Then he giggled a little hysterically, thinking that 'how deadly' was a stupid question…deadly was deadly. He had to hope that the venom was designed to numb victims into immobility rather than kill them outright. In any case, there was nothing he could do about it now.

Stiffly, hissing at the ache from ribs that were bruised if not cracked, he retrieved his weapons from the monster's carcass, bent to return his knife to his boot and sheathed his sword. Picking up the spluttering torch, he once again examined the cavern, looking for the passage that would take him to the pool. Gods, he hoped it wasn't much farther. When he spotted two exits from the cavern, other than the one he'd entered by, he groaned softly, wondering which one to take. He was acutely conscious of the passage of time, haunted by his last sight of Hercules, the demigod gasping for breath, burning with a fever raging out of control.

He knew Hercules was dying. He had to hurry or he'd be too late.

He stood first in one exit and then the other, listening intently, conscious of the flow of air on his skin, one tunnel releasing cooler air than the other. He finally decided on the right hand, cool air, option as he thought he could also hear the distant splash of water coming from that tunnel. Bone weary, weakened by exhaustion and loss of blood, he trudged down the narrow dark tunnel, refusing to acknowledge his old terror of dark, enclosed places as he forged onward.

After several more twists and turns, the sound of dripping and splashing water became louder, and once again he could see light emanating from somewhere up ahead. This time, instead of the fiery red light of the lava, and instead of heat, there was a silver light, and the tunnel became distinctly cooler as he moved forward. Finally, ten minutes after he'd killed the snake, he emerged into a vast cavern that seemed to glow with phosphorescent light. Sparkling crystal stalactites dripped from the ceiling far above as they grew ever so slowly toward their mates, tall stalagmites that rose in twisted pointed towers toward the ceiling. And, in the centre of the cavern, glittering silver in the strange light, was a perfectly round pool of water, fed by a spring that erupted from the earth about ten feet above, its water cascading down the black lava walls into the turquoise pool.

"Finally," he sighed with a tired grin. He'd taken one step into the cavern when the floor seemed to sag a bit beneath his feet. Unconsciously, he threw himself to the side, winding himself as he crashed into the wall, just in time to evade the spear-like stalactite that plummeted down to crash where he had just been standing. As it shattered, sharp crystalline shards flew into the air and he turned quickly, bringing one arm up to guard his face and head. The shards cut and scratched his arm and neck but did no serious damage.

He held himself perfectly still while he considered the path he needed to take to reach the pool. After examining the ceiling, he noted that the presence of stalactites thinned the closer one got to the pool. It would be like running an obstacle course, to lunge ahead faster than the sharp missiles could impale him, but he could see no other option. He took a couple of deep breaths, then launched himself forward, running in as straight a path as he could manage toward the edge of the pool, the sound of crashing stalactites and the shattered shards of crystal flying behind him driving him on.

And, then, he was at the water's edge. He studied the pool suspiciously for a moment, wondering if it harboured some form of water lizard, but the surface was flat and calm. Finally he decided that the fastidious gods wouldn't want to pollute their sacred water with anything as common as a monstrous lizard or the carcasses it would haul into the pool to feast upon. In their arrogance, they'd never believe a mortal would be able to get this far, so it was likely safe.

Besides, he didn't have any more time to worry about it.

Kneeling beside the pool, he pulled the empty waterskins from his shoulder, and quickly filled and stoppered each of them, five in all. Standing, he looked up at the ceiling and was dismayed to see that the stalactites that had fallen had somehow been replaced by new ones, once again ready to be launched down at him as he lunged by. Shaking his head at the capacity of this pool to protect itself, he raced forward and again narrowly won the contest, having suffered only a few superficial gashes from flying shards of crystal.

He was on the way back. Knowing now what lay ahead, he could move more quickly through the cave's warren of tunnels, back past the dead serpent, along the tight tunnel to drop down to the floor below and finally out to the ledge over the lava pit. He was untying the vine when he heard the growl behind him. Damn, there'd been more than one cat creature. He threw the torch back over his shoulder and heard a startled hiss as the flames distracted the cat while he hastily looped the rope around his waist, tying it off quickly. He turned to face the monster and saw that it was crouched ready to spring. He had neither the strength nor the energy to fight it off. Instead, as it sprang at him, he turned and leapt from the ledge.

The maddened monster plunged after him, reaching for him with its deadly talons, trying to grab him and drag him back to be mauled. But, only one massive paw came close, the talons raking along the side of his ribs, cutting long gouges to the bone, and cutting open one of the waterskins which spilled out, the mystical water mingling with his blood as both flowed to the lava below. He cried out at the pain, but held tight to the rope with his good right hand as it swung him across the gorge where he crashed hard against the far wall.

"Ooommpphhh!" he grunted as he held on tight, catching his breath. Nearly at the end of his energy reserves, he looked up the high, sheer cliff toward the ledge above and sighed. It was the last obstacle. He just had to get up this damned cliff and in ten minutes or so, he could be giving Herc the water he needed. Iolaus tried to bring up his left hand, intending to pull himself up, hand over hand, but his left arm wouldn't respond. It had been growing progressively more numb ever since the serpent had bitten him, and now it was useless.

"Great time to quit on me," the warrior cursed his useless left arm as he dangled from the end of the vine. Now what? The cliff was too sheer to offer any footholds, so he couldn't 'walk' himself up. What else could he use to grip the vine while he hauled himself up with his right hand? He was grinding his teeth in frustration at being so close yet unable to proceed when the idea came to him.

Grimly, he hauled himself up as high as he could with his right hand, paused, and then leaned forward, biting hard into the tough vine, gripping it with his teeth. Then, while his teeth held him in place, he again reached as high as he could along the length of the vine. Getting a good grip with his right hand, he spit out the vine and one handedly hauled himself higher, where once again he took a good solid bite of the foultasting vine. Then he reached higher and again hauled himself up to bite into the vine, on and on, over and over.

It seemed to take forever, and the taste of the vine was revolting, but he persevered grimly, without pause, even without thought. The heat from the fiery cauldron below was suffocating, and more than once, the sweat on his hand caused his grip to slip, so that he had to regain lost ground. Finally, an eternity later, he heaved himself over onto the upper ledge and lay there panting, the sweat of the effort he'd just made, and from the heat of the inferno below, creating a slick, bloodstreaked sheen on his body.

Painfully, he rolled over onto his knees and pushed himself to his feet. Half loping, half running, he went as fast as he could along the pitch-black tunnels, his torch far behind on the distant ledge with the furious, spitting cat monster. Uncaring of the way the wall sliced into the fingers of his right hand, he guided himself by resting them lightly on the wall as he ran forward. Less than ten minutes later, he could see the light from the entrance and stumbled toward it, then pushed through the overgrowth to the clear light of morning.

He'd been inside the cave for about two hours, but it had felt like much longer. He lurched toward Hercules and crashed to his knees beside the unconscious demigod. "Still with me, Herc?" he gasped as he fumbled with one of the waterskins to unplug it with his teeth. Balancing it against his leg, he used his bleeding right hand to maneuver his left arm up behind Herc's head to tilt it forward enough for him to force the liquid into his buddy's mouth. Impatiently, he brushed sweat-soaked hair out of his own eyes, then picked up the waterskin and placed the mouth of it between his buddy's lips, tilting it slowly, letting the water trickle into Hercules, taking care not to choke his friend by giving him too much, too fast.

Patiently, he took his time, easing up when his friend started to gasp or gag, but carried on until he judged at least two cupfuls had flowed down his partner's throat. Then, he gave Hercules a little more for good measure. It couldn't hurt.

Wearily, he brought the skin back to his side and carefully stoppered it. Then, leaving his useless left arm behind Herc's neck, he shifted so that he could rest his back against the log that supported the top end of the litter, and twisted a little so that he could rest his right hand on Herc's arm, his head bowed forward on Hercules' shoulder.

Gods, he was tired.

But, he couldn't relax yet, not until he knew the mystical qualities of the water were curing his friend. Iolaus listened to Hercules' harsh, painful breathing, and felt the fever burning from his skin, wondering how long it would take before the sacred water performed its healing magic. Finally, maybe an hour later, Hercules' breathing eased, and the fever seemed to diminish, until Herc was bathed in sweat as it finally broke. Iolaus quivered in relief, and couldn't keep the tears of gratitude from flooding his eyes. Hercules would be alright.

"Thank you, Aesclepius," he sighed, then relaxed enough to let the darkness claim him.

* * *

Two hours later, Hercules stirred and gradually came back to consciousness. His first awareness was that he could breathe without effort, that the fever was gone and with it, the pain. He sighed in relief, realizing that Iolaus must have made it back alright. Then, he became aware of the arm beneath his neck, the hand on his right arm and the weight resting on his shoulder, and he felt the soft brush of Iolaus' breath on his skin.

Smiling, he turned his head to greet his partner, but the smile froze on his lips. Iolaus' hair and what he could see of his face were smeared with dried blood and blood still seeped from his lacerated right hand. It was at that moment that Hercules realized his best friend was unconscious.

"Iolaus?" he murmured as he supported his buddy's head with his left hand, then quickly swiveled his body to sit up and roll off the litter to his knees beside his friend. He was horrified to see more blood…Iolaus' arm, side, chest, back and leg were sticky and damp with it. Anxious, he moved around so that he could pull Iolaus from his awkward position against the log and litter, back into his arms, his friend's head falling against his shoulder. "Hey, come on, buddy, you're scaring me," he said quietly as he reached toward his partner's throat to test the pulse there, sighing with relief when he found it strong and steady.

Carefully, he eased Iolaus onto the litter and set about inventorying the injuries. There were no wounds to his face or head, the blood having been streaked there by his right hand when Iolaus had wiped the sweat from his face and pushed his hair out of his eyes. The slashing cuts to the left arm and right leg weren't deep, but the claw marks along the side of his chest were very deep and ugly. It was then that Hercules saw the extensive bruising of his buddy's body and wondered what had caused it. There were several small puncture wounds in his back that still oozed blood, indicating that they might be deep. And there were gashes and tears along both arms, and the back of his neck, as if he'd been cut by flying glass…Herc even found a sliver of crystal in one of them. His right hand was badly slashed in several places, as was his left hand, but the wounds looked liked they'd heal with no trouble. The deep puncture wound in his shoulder, though, looked bad and was already discoloured with bruising and what looked like infection.

And, he was filthy, as if he had crawled through black ash and green slime..

"Gods, Iolaus, what happened in there?" Hercules murmured. First things first…he had to clean the wounds. Reaching for the waterskin Iolaus had left with him, the demigod rummaged through his buddy's bag to find clean rags and set about cleaning away the blood, sweat and dirt. He then scouted the area for herbs which he crushed into the wounds before bandaging them. Hercules made a herbal tea, and supporting his friend's head with one large hand, he carefully forced the liquid slowly down his partner's throat. It was then that Iolaus woke, coughing against the liquid that was trickling down the back of his throat.

Thrashing a little, he started, his eyes blinking open, as he mumbled, "Uh, what…"

"Easy, buddy, you're alright," Hercules soothed, brushing the unruly curls back out of his friend's eyes. Gradually, the dazed look cleared and Iolaus focused up at Hercules…and he smiled with a boundless sense of delighted relief.

"Herc, you're okay!" he said weakly, his eyes alight at the very welcome sight of the fully restored demigod.

"Uh huh, I'm fine, thanks to you…but, you're a little worse for wear," Hercules replied quietly, his own eyes filled with concern.

"Just a few scratches," Iolaus said, waving his injuries off. "I'm fine, just a little tired." But, when he tried to sit up to prove how fine he was, the spasm of pain from his bruised ribs and the fire from the wounds along his side surprised him and he gasped.

"Whoa, not so fast," Hercules cautioned, pressing him back gently. "You need to just lie back and rest for a while. What happened in there anyway?"

Iolaus' eyes had pressed shut against the pain and he'd gritted his teeth to hold back a groan. Getting his breathing under control, he shrugged a little as he again opened his eyes and replied, "Oh, nothing all that special…just your average killer cats and giant serpent, a wall that wanted to get just a little too close…and some very mean stalactites." Much as his whole body ached, except for his left arm which was still distressingly numb, he was determined to make light of it all or Herc would get all twisted up with guilt. "Honest, Herc, mostly I'm just tired is all," he insisted.

Hercules sighed and nodded, thinking that it was no wonder. Iolaus had hardly slept at all in what must be almost a week, maybe more, and his friend had hauled him over a good part of Greece as well as facing monsters and other hazards Hercules was certain were worse than he was admitting. "Well, I can't imagine why you'd be tired, but sleep if you must," the demigod teased, signaling his willingness to keep it light for now. Later, when Iolaus was stronger, he'd worm the details out of him. "Seriously, there's no rush to do anything now, buddy…so just rest, okay?"

That he could do, Iolaus thought as he nodded and let his eyes drift closed. Gods, he was exhausted. But, he felt a warm glow inside that soothed over the multitude of hurts…Herc was cured of the poison. It had all been worth it.

There was a smile on his lips as he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Iolaus slept for ten hours while Hercules kept watch and gently examined and rebandaged his wounds. Except for the puncture in Iolaus' shoulder, the other injuries seemed to be healing clean. But, the shoulder had bruised darkly, and a yellow discharge was seeping from the wound. Hercules fashioned a hot compress to draw out the poison, then bandaged it again. Iolaus slept through it all, too deeply tired and relaxed to notice the gentle ministrations.

When he finally woke, the sun had long set. Hercules was sitting by the fire, listening to the quiet sounds of the night. He'd set some snares and had been rewarded with a rabbit, which he'd prepared and cooked in a stew with root vegetables he'd found. It was simmering gently over the flames, ready for when Iolaus woke and wanted to eat.

"Smells good," Iolaus said quietly as he pushed himself up to sit with his legs on either side of the litter. He noticed Herc had covered him with the blanket and smiled to himself at the thoughtfulness.

"Sleep well?" Herc asked, looking up with a slight smile.

"Oh yeah," Iolaus confirmed, stretching his right arm and yawning. "I needed that." He noticed all the bandages and gave Herc a rueful look. "Looks like you've been busy."

"What can I say?" the demigod replied with a long suffering tone. "You were a mess by the time you got back here. I don't know why you have to get so dirty and banged up just from playing with a few little monsters."

Iolaus snickered as he rubbed his left shoulder with his bandaged right hand, worried that it was still so numb. He couldn't feel his left arm. "They weren't so little," he said with a laugh. "So, are you going to give me any of that stew?" he inquired. "I'm starving."

Hercules relaxed at that news, as Iolaus had hoped he would. He'd seen the lines of tension around the demigod's eyes and mouth, the stiffness of his shoulders, and despite the smile, he'd known Herc was worried.

"So, now I have to wait on you, too," Hercules groaned theatrically as he leaned forward to ladle the stew into one of the clay bowls Iolaus carried in his sack. Standing, Herc brought the food to his buddy, and it was then that Iolaus realized he had a problem. How was he going to hold the bowl and a spoon at the same time with only one working arm? Besides, his hands were both swathed in bandages.

Hercules caught the slight look of consternation and smiled softly. "Don't worry, I'll feed you," he said as he sat down beside his buddy and scooped up a healthy spoonful of stew.

Iolaus made a face at his helplessness, but opened his mouth willingly enough, looking like a ragged sparrow waiting hopefully for food. He really was hungry and he knew this had to be a good sign. Whenever he was really hurt, he never seemed to have any appetite.

Herc fed him all there was of the stew, then helped him drink water from a mug. "That's my water, right?" Iolaus confirmed. "Not that magic stuff that Aesclepius said would kill me if I drank the undiluted water."

"I got this from the stream just past those trees," Hercules reassured him with a nod toward the babbling brook. But, he felt a twinge of relief that he hadn't given Iolaus any of the sacred water earlier. Iolaus had told him the stuff was too strong for mortals, but hadn't said it would kill him.

Fed and watered, Iolaus felt his eyelids again become heavy. Hercules smiled as he stood and ruffled Iolaus' hair playfully. "Time for you to get some more sleep, buddy," he said as he helped Iolaus settle himself back on the litter and covered his friend with the blanket, tucking it in.

Iolaus grinned up at him, his eyes dancing as he said impishly, "Thanks Mom."

Herc gave him a light, playful swat on the shoulder, then turned back to the fire, muttering, "No fooling around…just go to sleep!"

When he turned back, he smiled gently to see that Iolaus had already done so. "Sleep well, my friend," Hercules murmured fondly. "You've sure earned it."

* * *

The next morning, Hercules checked Iolaus' multitude of wounds, still not happy about the persistent infection in his left shoulder. But, the rest seemed to be healing well, and Iolaus felt good, except for a low-grade fever from the shoulder wound. The warrior didn't mention that his left arm and shoulder were completely numb, Hercules believing him to be just his usual stoic self in the face of pain when the demigod was working on the wound.

Since Iolaus' hands were still bound by bandages, the demigod took charge of the camp, making a tea and scrounging for fruit for breakfast. Iolaus raised his eyebrow at the apple his friend held up to his mouth for a bite, but he didn't say anything. For some reason, Herc believed fruit was better for a person than meat, especially in the morning. Herc caught the look and grinned, but he too remained silent. They'd been together so long that such subtle signals conveyed as much or more than words would between them.

Once they'd eaten, and Hercules had helped an unhappy Iolaus with other, more personal, needs, the demigod cleared up the camp, stamped out the fire and packed up Iolaus' pack. Slinging the four remaining waterbags for Aesclepius over his shoulder, he reached down to help his buddy stand. Iolaus raised his right arm, and Herc hauled him up, which was easier than trying to get up on his own with his injured leg and sore ribs. Hercules retrieved the blankets from the litter and folded them neatly into Iolaus' pack which he then slung over his shoulder to join the waterskins.

As they headed south toward Epidaurus, Hercules looked over at Iolaus with a slight grin, "Well, now that you're all rested, how about you tell me more of the details of what happened inside that mountain."

Iolaus grinned back and shrugged his right shoulder, as he replied, "As I said, it wasn't all that interesting. Let's see, okay, well, my hands got cut up by the sharp silicone in the lava walls of the cave and caverns, and that's pretty much what happened to my back, too. About ten minutes in, the floor gives way to a steep cliff down to molten lava, and the only way to move further in is to jump to a ledge about thirty feet across the chasm and fifty feet down."

Hercules had begun to frown, thinking of the difficulty of that feat alone. "How'd you manage that?"

"I'd made myself a vine rope…swinging across wasn't all that hard actually," Iolaus replied. "The slashes on my left arm and leg are from this really nasty long toothed cat, with these murderous claws, that was waiting for me when I clambered up onto the ledge."

"And you got past it by…." Hercules encouraged.

"Using a stake I'd whittled into a spear," Iolaus explained, and through various motions he showed how he had tossed the cat into the pit. "Easy," he concluded.

"Right," Hercules muttered with a thoughtful look at his partner. "What happened next?"

"Well, then I came to a dead end, and the only way to continue was to get up to a tiny, little tunnel, which you would never have fit in, by the way. The walls didn't have any hand or footholds, but then the far wall started to press forward, you know, like an olive-crushing machine. That made it easy…I just put my back against the one wall and my feet against the other and walked my way up to the tunnel," Iolaus reported with a light-hearted tone. There was no need to tell Herc how really tight and scary that little tunnel had been.

He didn't notice that Hercules was now gazing at him with a look of horror in his eyes, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach at the thought of the dangers Iolaus had faced. He also knew of Iolaus' aversion for tight, dark tunnels so he had some idea of what personal terrors the journey through the cave had held.

Iolaus brushed over the serpent, just explaining how he'd killed it, described the stalactites in the cavern guarding the pool and told his buddy about the second cat-monster getting his ribs as he leapt from the lower ledge.

Hercules had to swallow hard at the vision those words conjured up. Gods, it had been close. Too close. "You didn't say how you got the puncture wound in your shoulder, or where all those bruises on your body came from. You look like you almost got crushed somewhere along the line…wasn't the wall, was it?"

"No," Iolaus laughed, "It was the serpent. It got mad when I cut off the stinger on its tail and bit me, and then when I drove my knife and sword into its brain, it twisted and writhed right over me before it finally gave up the ghost," Iolaus explained lightly.

But, he was beginning to wonder if he should say something about his shoulder and arm. The numbness had spread down the left side of his chest, which was good news in that it took away the pain from the deep lacerations along his side. Still, he figured the numbness wasn't a good sign, and the fact that it was spreading was worse. He frowned as he looked down the trail they were following, figuring out how long it would take them to get to Epidaurus at this rate. Eight or nine days, at least, given that they weren't running flat out. Maybe seven days if they didn't make rest stops and kept sleeping to a minimum.

Hercules noticed the frown and the worried, thoughtful look on his friend's face. There was something Iolaus wasn't telling him. "What's wrong," he asked, as he stopped Iolaus and pulled his friend around to face him. Iolaus could lie with considerable skill when he had to, but he found it hard to lie to Herc's face.

"Don't miss much, do you?" Iolaus grumbled, as he looked up at his friend. There was a shadow of worry in Herc's eyes, his face stern as he waited for an answer. "It's my left arm, Herc. I can't feel it or move it," the warrior finally admitted quietly, looking away.

Instinctively, Hercules reached out to touch the shoulder in question, and then to grip Iolaus' arm. "You can't feel anything?"

Iolaus shook his head. "It's like it's not even there," he muttered. Deciding to be completely honest, he continued, "And, I think it's spreading…I can't feel the lacerations along my left side anymore either."

"When did this start?" Herc demanded, his voice tight with anxiety.

"After the snake bit me," Iolaus replied, watching his buddy examine his shoulder. When Hercules lifted the bandage, taking a new look at the wound, trying to gauge if it really was infection or something more insidious, Iolaus looked away in disgust. Something that looked that bad should hurt like Tarturus. That it didn't hurt at all was scary.

Herc felt anxiety well in his chest. It had to be some kind of venom, poison of some sort. "Has your arm been this numb since it bit you?"

Iolaus shook his head. "No, at first it burned a little, and I noticed the arm lost feeling a little at a time until it got completely useless as I was leaving the cave." He looked up and read the concern in his friend's eyes. "I'm sure it's only temporary, Herc…you know, some paralyzing venom that wears off if the victim escapes."

They both hoped he was right about the effects of the venom wearing off, and they both hoped they'd wear off soon. But, they both also knew better…it wasn't wearing off, it was spreading. "We'd better get back to Epidaurus as quickly as we can," Hercules said quietly as he replaced the bandage and turned to continue the journey. It was too soon to worry, or at least that's what he told the agitated butterflies in his stomach, but they were determined to be fly about anxiously, scared to death about his partner's wellbeing. Truth to tell, his heart and head agreed with the butterflies.

"My thoughts exactly," Iolaus agreed, pacing along beside his friend.

* * *

They had made good time and by the end of the first day they had long passed the place where Hercules had collapsed on the way to Mount Olympus. Iolaus reflected wryly at how much faster they could travel when he wasn't hauling a great bull behind him, and then started to giggle at the mingled chagrin and insult on his buddy's face. The sound of the laughter eased Hercules' anxiety a little, but he wondered if Iolaus was just trying to fake him out by pretending everything was fine.

When he checked the dressings after setting up their camp and decided Iolaus' hands had healed enough to be left open to the air, Iolaus grinned in relief. While he didn't mind depending on his friend when he had to, there were certain things that he really preferred to handle without help. Hercules decided to leave the dressings on the arm, back, leg and ribs and he just quietly cleaned the shoulder wound again, sickened by how bad it was beginning to look…and smell. The infection was extremely serious, and he noticed that Iolaus' skin seemed warmer than it had that morning, his buddy beginning to look a little flushed.

"Your fever is getting worse," Hercules observed as he turned back to the fire to make yet more of the disgusting herbal tea.

Iolaus eyed his actions with disfavour. "If you're going to keep making me drink that stuff, the least you could do is find some bee hives and flavour it with honey," he complained.

"If you want honey, you can find it yourself," replied Hercules, unimpressed with his partner's complaints. "This is good for you. It doesn't have to taste good."

"Maybe not," Iolaus groused as he took the mug Hercules handed to him, wrinkling his nose as he sniffed at it. "But, nothing should taste this awful."

"Just drink it," Herc replied. "I'm going to see if I can find us something to eat," he said as he stood.

"Gods," Iolaus murmured prayerfully, casting his gaze to the sky, "please don't let me starve…."

The demigod threw his buddy a withering look as he headed out of the clearing into the forest. Iolaus was trying so hard to distract him and tease him, that he was now certain his buddy was feeling worse rather than better. But, talking about it wouldn't improve the situation so he'd decided to go along with his partner's cheerful banter for the time being. But, he'd also decided to find a healer in the next village they came to…the putrefaction of Iolaus' shoulder needed to be treated urgently or his buddy might not make it to Epidaurus.

* * *

When Iolaus woke the next morning, the smell from his shoulder nauseated him. Gods, it was like his body was dying a little at a time. However, if anything, the spreading numbness worried him even more. He'd lost touch with his back and chest completely, and it was spreading down over his pelvis. His left leg had a slight pins and needles sensation that was not encouraging.

The fever was worse, too, but not yet bad enough to really slow him down, not much anyway.

Hercules let Iolaus take the lead when they broke camp because he wanted to keep an eye on his partner. In addition, he wanted to be sure that they moved at a pace that Iolaus could manage without exhausting himself. They came across a village late that afternoon and Herc was very glad to learn a healer lived in it. Following directions, they found the small, thatched cottage set a little back from the road, surrounded by a herb garden.

The healer was a wizened old man, who came to the door when Hercules knocked on it. He bade them enter, and when he learned of Iolaus' shoulder injury, he had the hunter sit down near the window where there was better light, so that he could examine it. The smell had alerted him that the wound had gone bad. The only question was whether it was too late for him to do something to still save the sturdy man sitting in front of him.

"Hmmm," he sighed with a frown. "You know as well as I do how bad this has gotten. Why haven't you been caring for it properly, with poultices and herbs to draw out the poison?" he scolded.

"We have done all of that, but the infection just keeps getting worse," Hercules replied, standing where he could watch the healer's face. What he saw there didn't reassure him. "Is there anything you can do to make it better?" he asked bluntly.

The healer pondered the injury a moment longer, then nodded slowly. "It's not gone so bad that I can't cut away the dead flesh without crippling him. Good thing you got here today, or it would have been too late to do anything but arrange the funeral feast," he muttered, setting about to heat a knife in the fire and gather the other supplies he'd need.

"Gods, don't beat around the bush or anything, just come right out and say what you think," Iolaus observed, appalled by the man's last comment.

"I'm too old to mince words, lad. You're not well and you know it. But, you look strong. With luck, you'll survive," the healer called back over his shoulder, then turned to bring a bowl of water, some clean linen bandages and small bottles of herbs and salves to the table next to where Iolaus was sitting.

Hercules hadn't said anything, but he'd visibly paled at the healer's words. Iolaus caught his buddy's eyes and rolled his own, expressing his silent opinion of this healer's bedside manner. The man caught the look as he turned back from the fire with the heated knife in his hands. "I don't have to be pleasant to treat your wounds, lad. Try to be a little more respectful," he said sternly.

"Yes sir," Iolaus snapped back primly, pretending to look contrite as he sat straighter on the stool. The healer chuckled wryly at his patient's antics, glad to see the man had a good spirit. He'd need to be a fighter to endure what was to come.

"This is going to hurt, lad," he said, then looked over at Hercules. "You might want to come over here and hold your friend still while I cut away the dead flesh."

Herc nodded and came to kneel behind Iolaus, letting his friend rest back against him as he laid one strong hand on Iolaus' right shoulder, and wrapped his other arm around Iolaus' waist.

Iolaus watched the blade come close to his flesh, then turned away, steeling himself for the pain. But, it didn't come. He could smell the burning as the hot knife cut away flesh and cauterized the wound to prevent excess bleeding at the same time, but he couldn't feel anything. He looked up and back at Hercules as he said, "It doesn't hurt, Hercules…you can relax now."

The demigod returned his impish gaze, seeing no humour in the situation. His jaw was taut as he just shook his head and looked away from what the healer was doing. If anything, his grip on Iolaus tightened. Finally, the man was done and he applied salves from two of his small pots, powdered the mess with herbs and finally bandaged the shoulder with the clean linen.

"I'm sorry, there's nothing else I can do," he said briskly, not liking the look of the strange injury or the way it had gone bad despite the man's obvious health and their claims that they had cared for the injury properly. There was something odd, that he knew he didn't understand, about these two men and about the wound itself. "It's up to the gods now."

"That's not very reassuring," Iolaus quipped. "It's the gods who got us into this mess in the first place!"

The healer flashed him a quick look, wondering at the comment, wondering even more at how the man had endured the small surgery without pain. "Who are you?" he asked, rather belatedly.

"I'm Iolaus, and this is my friend, Hercules," his patient replied cheerfully.

"Hercules?" murmured the healer, reflecting he'd not been far wrong in his thoughts that the gods were somehow at play. "Well, I'll be…."

The demigod just nodded in acknowledgement and dug into the pouch at his belt for some silver. "How much do we owe you?" he asked.

"Oh, don't worry about it," the healer waved off his effort to pay. "It's not every day I get to treat the friend of a legendary hero."

* * *

"'Friend of a legend'," Iolaus griped as they continued their journey south. "What am I? A hero? No, I'm the 'friend' of a hero. Gods, Herc, did you hear him?"

"I heard him," Hercules responded with a shake of his head. Iolaus was just pretending to be irritated, once again fully engaged in his strategy to distract the demigod and alleviate his concern. But, Hercules was on to him and wasn't buying it. Besides, it had been insulting. Iolaus deserved better than that. Turning to eye his partner who was walking along beside him, he said, "I think we'd better find a place for the night. It might not have hurt when he treated your shoulder, but that doesn't mean you're not sick. I don't want you collapsing on me."

"Aw, I'm fine. We can go on a while longer. The further we go, the closer we get to Epidaurus," Iolaus protested, reminding himself uncomfortably of how Hercules had refused to quit when he should have on their way to see Aesclepius and again on the way to Olympus.

The demigod strode along silently for a moment, then nodded. "Another hour, no more."

"Okay," sighed Iolaus, secretly a little relieved. The pins and needles had spread all the way down his left leg.

* * *

When he woke the next morning, Iolaus found that his leg was completely numb. Gingerly, he tried moving it and was relieved that it still responded to his mind's commands. He didn't say anything about it to Hercules, but the demigod noticed the limp and slight drag of his left leg as soon as they started off.

"It's getting worse, isn't it," he asked quietly.

Iolaus looked up at his friend, his own eyes reflecting the worry Hercules felt, and nodded silently. What was there to say?

He made it through that day, and the next with the aid of a stick Hercules whittled into an improvised crutch. But, the whole trunk of his body was numb now, and his right leg and his right arm were beginning the pins and needles bit. The fever, if anything, had gotten worse.

By the end of their fifth day on the road, he knew he couldn't walk any farther. He was stumbling badly, tripping over ruts in the ground he couldn't feel, and his right arm was growing too numb to hold the crutch steady. They still had at least two days of travel ahead of them. Weary, discouraged, he slid down along a tree, and rested against it while Hercules set up their camp.

"Better build a litter when you're done with the fire," he said dejectedly to his friend. "You'll have to drag me the rest of the way."

Hercules gazed at him without speaking. It took a lot to make Iolaus give up and the demigod had to swallow his fear as he simply nodded and headed into the forest to get what he needed. Iolaus leaned his head back against the tree and closed his eyes, resting until Herc returned.

Within the privacy of the thick forest, Hercules vented his fear and frustration by literally tearing the limbs he needed for the litter from the trees, and by ripping long vines from their roots, almost viciously stripping away the leaves from the main stems. Standing amidst the destruction he had wrought, breathing hard more from emotion than exertion, he finally let his shoulders slump and his head bowed as he sank to the ground, his hands covering his face. Iolaus was fading away before his very eyes and there wasn't a damned thing he could do to stop it from happening. There was no one to fight, no rescue to affect.

A tremor shivered its way through his body and his eyes blurred. It was because of him, because of the need to save his life, that now Iolaus was sorely injured and ill. But, he couldn't say any of this to Iolaus. His buddy had long ago made his feelings very clear about the guilt Hercules felt whenever he was injured. If anything, Iolaus tended to feel insulted by those feelings, and then he'd spend whatever energy he had left trying to persuade the demigod that he was acting in accordance with his own will, making his own choices.

It was as if he thought that the feelings of guilt or responsibility that Hercules felt indicated that the demigod somehow didn't respect him. Sighing, Hercules raked his fingers through his hair and looked up at the patches of sky he could see through the heavy forest. There was no one he had ever trusted or respected more. No one he loved more. But, it just seemed that though his much vaunted strength could work miracles for other people, it just put Iolaus in danger, either because of the impossible odds they routinely took on, or because they were targets of his more reprehensible relatives.

Swallowing past the lump in his throat and taking a long shuddering breath, Hercules rose to his knees to gather up the boughs and vines he needed to build the litter. Iolaus needed his undivided attention. There was no time for self-recrimination, no time to wallow in guilt, however guilty and responsible he felt. The last thing Iolaus needed right now was to worry about making him feel better about what was happening. Nothing was going to make him feel better until Aesclepius did what was necessary to cure the effects of the poison. Standing, he squared his shoulders and headed back to their camp.

Iolaus straightened a little, when he heard his buddy coming back, and tried to look like he felt fine. When Hercules dropped the branches and the vines on the ground, Iolaus teased, "You know, if we make a habit of dragging one another into his sanctuary, Aesclepius is going to wonder if we should be allowed to go out and play without supervision. This is getting to be a habit."

Kneeling, Hercules set to work putting together the litter. "It's not funny, Iolaus," he said quietly, trying to hold the guilt and fear he felt inside.

"I know," his partner sighed wearily, again resting his head against the trunk of the tree. He let his eyes rise to the sky, and stared at the clouds there, white billows beginning to turn pink along their lower edges as the sun settled in the west.

* * *

They found out what fear really meant before noon the next day. Having taken over the surface of his body, the venom was now working its way deeper. They'd been travelling for about five hours, ever since the sun had risen that morning, and Hercules was making good speed even with having to drag the litter with Iolaus behind him. He spotted a small stream, and laid the litter down, calling back over his shoulder, "I'm just going to fill our waterskin…be back in a minute." He didn't think anything of it when Iolaus didn't reply.

A few minutes later, he came back and dropped onto one knee to help Iolaus drink. When he looked at his buddy's face, he was aghast. Iolaus had gone a dead gray colour, except for the fever burning in his eyes and cheeks. He was rasping, struggling to breathe, and didn't seem to be having a lot of success. Each breath came at a long interval from the one before.

"Gods, Iolaus," Hercules gasped, as he lifted his friend's shoulders to help him breathe. "What happened? What's wrong?"

"Hard…to breathe," Iolaus whispered as he dragged in another shuddering breath.

"Yeah, I noticed," Hercules responded, the fear glittering in his eyes belying his dry tone.

"'S okay," Iolaus murmured when he could. "I'm not suffocating or…anything. Just, it's hard…."

"Don't talk," Hercules admonished him, then held the waterskin to Iolaus' lips. His buddy's skin was hot to the touch, but he was shivering from chills. The bruises on Iolaus' body had remained livid, when they should have started to lighten to yellow by now. Hercules checked his wounds, biting his lip when he saw that the shoulder was worsening again and he could see the streaks of poison spreading from the wound, poison that was killing his friend. Hercules laid a gentle hand on Iolaus' chest, feeling the muscles fight to draw in air and the demigod's throat tightened when he felt the weak, erratic pounding of his buddy's heart. Scared, he reached to Iolaus' throat, holding his breath as he counted out the beats, feeling the stutter and almost faltering faint erratic pumping. Gods, the poison was attacking the muscles that let Iolaus breathe…that pumped life through his body. How much time…?

Iolaus saw the tremor that rippled through Hercules' body as the demigod tried to master the sick terror that coursed through him. "What…is it?" the warrior rasped, suddenly still, knowing something had badly shaken Hercules.

Herc just shook his head for a moment as he tried to find his voice. Finally, he raised his head and his fear darkened eyes met Iolaus' as he replied, "It's the poison, Iolaus…it's suffocating you…attacking your heart..." His voice cracked, and his lips trembled. It was moving too fast, remorselessly shutting down Iolaus' body, stealing his life away. Hercules could feel his buddy's life slipping through his very fingers, and he couldn't do a damned thing to hold onto it. "We're running out of time," he choked out, sick, scared.

"Oh," whispered his partner, closing his eyes. Then, he looked back at Hercules, his voice rasping as he said, "Herc…you've done all you could…it's too far…."

Hercules swallowed and shook his head, his jaw tight. "No," he growled as he leaned forward and wrapped the blankets on the litter snuggly around his friend, "you're not going to die!" Then, he stood, bearing Iolaus up with him, cradled against his chest.

"What…?" Iolaus demanded, hoping to forestall what he thought was about to happen.

"You'll breathe easier if I carry you, and I can move faster this way," Hercules explained, his voice almost harsh with his fear.

"But…" Iolaus began to protest.

"Don't mess with me, Iolaus," the demigod snapped. "I know you hate being carried, but I don't have time to worry about that right now. So just shut up and keep breathing."

"'Kay," his partner replied meekly. He didn't fight when Herc used that tone of voice or turned those steely blue eyes on him.

"Good," Hercules replied, then started to race along the narrow road that led down to the peninsula that would take them into the Pelopponese.

Iolaus slipped into a light, restless doze as the demigod's long strides ate up the miles. His breathing worsened, the air rattling in his throat and bubbling in his lungs as he painfully dragged in breath after breath. About an hour before dusk, Hercules stopped by a stream. Iolaus was too hot and Herc needed to bathe his fevered skin to try to cool him a little. The strickened warrior couldn't feel the water on his skin, couldn't feel anything at that point, but when Hercules held the waterskin to his lips and tilted it, he woke before he choked on the liquid.

"Easy," Hercules murmured. "Try to drink a little."

Nodding, Iolaus complied. When Hercules pulled the waterskin away, Iolaus' eyes' skittered around as he mumbled, "Gods, it's dark out tonight. I can't see a thing…aren't there any stars?"

Startled, Hercules looked down at the sightless eyes, and his heart was squeezed by a new fear. The damned venom. It seemed to be shutting Iolaus' body down. Even if he could get Iolaus to Aesclepius in time to fight the infection and disease, would the healer be able to reverse the effects of the poison?

Hercules swallowed hard, then murmured, keeping his voice carefully steady, "No, no stars. Must be cloudy."

"Yeah," sighed Iolaus, drifting back into a troubled sleep.

Herc picked him up and resumed their journey, if anything going faster than he had before, faster than he'd ever run in his life before. Iolaus was running out of time.

* * *

It was just after dawn when Hercules raced into the compound at Epidaurus and strode briskly into the sanctuary. Spotting his cousin about midway down the long dim interior of the edifice, the demigod moved quickly to his side, calling out quietly so as not to disturb the other patients there. "Aesclepius, help me, please."

The god of healing turned at the fear-filled voice at his elbow, frowning unhappily when he saw Hercules standing there with Iolaus in his arms. "Bring him this way," the healer said, and led the demigod to an empty cot at the far end.

Hercules knelt to lay Iolaus on the rickety bed, then looked up at Aesclepius. "He was bitten by a serpent under the mountain, and his whole body has gone numb, become paralyzed, from the venom. He can barely breathe, and he went blind late yesterday afternoon. And, his heart…it's not pumping right…it's as if it's shutting down…." the demigod explained tersely.

"I'm blind?" Iolaus queried in a croaking whisper, having wakened when Herc had laid him down.

Aesclepius knelt on the other side of the cot and conducted a rapid examination, his face bleak has he realized how little time the hunter had left. Iolaus was beyond gasping for air. The muscles of his chest were barely functioning, and only thin wisps of air were making it into his body. His skin was blue around his lips and eyes. The fever was out of control and if it got any higher, he'd likely succumb to convulsions. In his weakened state, they would surely kill him.

"Blind?" Iolaus whispered again on a wisp of air, his face haunted by the horror of it. He couldn't feel anything, couldn't move, could scarcely breathe. Now, he was locked in darkness. It was like his worst nightmare had just become real.

"It's okay, Iolaus," Hercules soothed. "It's only temporary. We made it to Epidaurus and Aesclepius is going to take care of you."

Looking up at his cousin, the demigod continued, fear mingled with a threat clear in his eyes, "Right? You are going to make him better?"

Aesclepius was studying Iolaus, his long sensitive fingers monitoring the slow, hesitant pulse in the man's throat. "Did you bring the water?" he asked quietly, holding out his other hand.

Hercules slung the four skins off his shoulder and handed them to the healer. Aesclepius took them with a silent nod, his gaze again drawn to Iolaus. Something wasn't…he wasn't breathing!

"Hercules! He can't breathe…here, you must breathe for him until I mix up the potion, or we'll lose him," the healer ordered urgently.

Appalled, Hercules looked down at Iolaus and saw that his buddy's eyes had darkened with terror, his face twisted in his effort to swallow air that the muscles of his chest had stopped drawing in. Without the passage of air, he couldn't speak. 'Herc, please, help me,' Iolaus thought with sick desperation. The faint pulse in his throat let the healer know his heart was still fighting, that there was still a life to be saved in that body.

Without hesitation, Hercules bent over his friend, pinched his nose closed and opened his mouth wide, covering Iolaus' lips with his own, as he breathed life into his paralyzed partner. Aesclepius had stood and was briskly striding, almost running, to his workshop next to the temple.

As he hurried to prepare the potion, the healer debated affecting a radical treatment to aid the debilitated warrior to breathe. Some years ago, he had discovered he could cut a small hole in the airway, and insert a narrow tube, to help patients with throats that had closed from poison to breathe. Trying to keep his hands from trembling as he measured out the ingredients for the potion, Aesclepius shook his head. If it had only been a closed airway his treatment could have worked, but it was the muscles of his chest that weren't working anymore, not a clogged throat that blocked the warrior's breathing. For now, Hercules would have to do Iolaus' breathing for him. Reaching for a beaker, Aesclepius began to mix the potion as quickly as he could.

* * *

Hercules had to battle his terror for Iolaus' life as he breathed over and over into his buddy's body. Others in the sanctuary watched silently as the drama played out in the dim corner of the building. Many recognized the demigod and knew this had to be his partner, Iolaus. It seemed as though the hero had been breathing life into his friend for ages, though only a half hour had passed.

Though Iolaus lay limp under Hercules' ministrations, the demigod took heart from the fact that he could see a calmer look had returned to his buddy's eyes…but, in their depths, there was still something that looked a lot like panic. It had to be terrifying to not be able to feel anything, to not be able to see and now to not be able to even breathe on his own.

'Damn it,' Hercules raged in his mind. This was all because of him, because of Hera's determination to kill him and her very near success. If he hadn't've been hurt so badly, Iolaus wouldn't have to go down into that mountain. He wouldn't be blind. He wouldn't be… But the demigod's thoughts ground to a sharp stop at the word 'dying'. He couldn't think it, let alone ever say it or accept it. Like some kind of machine, he kept breathing air into his partner, one hand gently holding Iolaus' jaw open, the other wrapped around the top of his buddy's head. At least Iolaus knew he was there. At least he knew they were in Epidaurus and that Aesclepius was working on the potion to make him better.

Breathe. Pause. Breathe. Pause. Breathe. Pause. Over and over in a steady rhythm. Breathe. But, once when Hercules paused and gazed at Iolaus' eyes, his heart clenched. Iolaus' face was twisted in agony, his eyes dark with a kind of horror.

"What?" cried Hercules, "I don't understand. Gods, Iolaus what's wrong?"

Knowing that he had Hercules' attention, and that if he could make his friend understand, Herc might be able to help him, the warrior sought for a means to communicate. His mouth worked as if he was trying to speak, but without air, he couldn't form words. Frustrated, knowing there was no time, he struggled for a way to communicate. He couldn't move…but, they'd been down this road before, and there were certain signals Hercules might recognize. Iolaus' eyes softened, with the look Hercules knew only too well, the look that chilled the demigod's blood. The look that said, 'I'm sorry', the look that said, 'good-bye'. Iolaus then slid his eyes to the side, to stare unblinkingly into nothing.

Horror clutched at Hercules' heart as he understood what Iolaus was trying to tell him. Desperately, the demigod felt at his partner's throat. Nothing. Iolaus turned his gaze back toward Hercules, sorrow now haunting those brilliant eyes as the light in them began to dim.

The venom had stopped the muscles of his heart.

"Damn it, Iolaus, I am not letting this beat us!" Hercules growled as he pounded his partner's chest hard. Once, and then again. Breathed into him. Sought for a pulse. Pounded him again, as if he could pound life back into his partner, shock the heart into starting to beat again, his voice hard as the demigod snarled his defiance of the Fates, "I will not let you go!" Breathed. Felt for a pulse…and thought he'd pass out from relief when he found one. Thin, thready, but there. Breathe.

Iolaus gave him a single weary smile.

Hercules kept breathing, every few minutes taking the time to also monitor Iolaus' faint, faltering pulse.

It was almost an hour before Aesclepius returned with a mug of the potion he'd concocted. "Help me get this into him," he said to the demigod.

Hercules raised Iolaus' head, and the healer tipped the fluid into his mouth, but much of it just spilled down the sides of the warrior's face. "He's lost the ability to swallow," the healer muttered, massaging the warrior's throat, forcing his body to accept the potion. He'd give a little of the potion, and then Hercules would resume breathing for his buddy. A little more potion. Breathe. They worked together over Iolaus' too still form for almost another hour before the mug of medicine had been consumed. By that point, weak and exhausted, Iolaus had lost consciousness.

Hercules had to keep breathing for Iolaus for almost another hour after that. Others offered to spell him, but he wouldn't quit, wasn't really even aware of anyone else around him. He'd never come so close to losing Iolaus before except when his friend had actually died. Breathe. He was almost frantic with his fear of losing Iolaus again. Breathe. No one owed him any favours. Breathe. Iolaus was hurt interfering with Hera's will. Breathe. He'd taken on the quest knowing of its dangers and had been willing nonetheless. Breathe. Hades would never intervene in such a situation to restore him to life if Herc lost him this time. Breathe. Gods, he couldn't lose him. Breathe.

Finally, Iolaus' gasped, and began to breathe again on his own. The air still whistled in his throat and bubbled in his chest, but at least he was breathing. Hercules sagged in relief, laying a hand on his buddy's chest, feeling the pounding of a heart that didn't want to quit.

The demigod refused to leave Iolaus' side, so Aesclepius sent for a chair for him. The night wore on with little change.

At one point, Iolaus roused briefly. "Herc?" he whispered, a tremor of fear in his voice. The sound of terror from Iolaus was so alien that Herc's heart twisted.

"I'm right here, buddy," Hercules replied, touching his face, hoping that his friend could feel his touch.

"So dark…" Iolaus murmured, not wanting to ask, in case….

"It's the middle of the night," Hercules replied, having to swallow hard. Light flickered from a candle in a wall bracket over Iolaus' cot, but his friend obviously couldn't see it.

"Still can't feel anything," the hunter rasped, then coughed on the phlegm in his throat. Hercules lifted his shoulders a little to help him breathe easier.

"Aesclepius gave you some of the potion, but it takes a while to work," Hercules explained, his voice tight with control.

"How long?" Iolaus asked weakly.

Hercules had to blink back the moisture that flooded his eyes as he answered, "I don't know."

Iolaus heard the pain in the demigod's voice, the grief, and didn't quite know how to interpret it. Was he dying? Was he never going to get any better? Or was it just worry that he heard? A ghost of a grin played around his lips, and he wished he could reach out to hold Herc's hand…he had no way of knowing Hercules was tightly grasping his right hand in Herc's larger one. "Thanks for sharing your air," the warrior whispered, his voice hoarse, "but did you have to hit my chest so hard?"

Though he could neither see nor feel, he'd heard the impact of Hercules' fist on his body, and had certainly heard what Herc had said. If his buddy hadn't've understood what he'd needed, Iolaus knew he would have died.

"Well, I…that is, you were…Did I hurt you?" Hercules fumbled, worried he'd hurt his partner, forgetting Iolaus couldn't feel anything.

"I'm teasing you, you big lug," Iolaus murmured, the grin widening. "You worry too much about hurting me, when what you were doing was saving my life."

"Yeah, well you talk too much," the demigod replied, brushing Iolaus' hair away from his sightless eyes. He'd seen the fear there, and heard it in Iolaus' voice a moment ago, and he knew his buddy was just playing up to make him feel better. But, he rarely saw Iolaus afraid and it shook him. He knew his buddy wasn't afraid of dying, though he'd fight it all the way…it was fear of being blind and paralyzed that was haunting him. "You don't have to pretend with me, Iolaus," he said softly.

His best friend swallowed hard against a thickly swollen, very sore, throat. Unbidden tears glittered in his eyes, and he blinked against them. "I'm scared, Herc," he admitted then in a barely audible voice.

"I know, buddy, I know," Hercules replied quietly, but he didn't offer any reassurances that Iolaus would be 'good as new in no time'. The truth was, he just didn't know if they'd gotten here in time or not. "Whatever happens, we'll manage," he assured his friend as he again gently stroked the curls back from his friend's brow.

Iolaus' eyes squeezed shut, and his face twisted as he fought the emotion that surged within him. "Herc, I don't want to…" he began, his voice breaking.

"I don't want to hear it, Iolaus," the demigod cut in, his own voice rough with emotion. "I don't want to hear you say you don't want to be a burden. I don't want to hear you say you'd rather die that live like this…I know you, I know how bad this is for you. But, I won't give up on you…and I won't let you give up, either. You hear me?"

"I'm blind not deaf," Iolaus replied dryly. But, then, he continued more softly, "I hear you, Herc. Don't worry, I won't give up. Besides, you'd just start breathing air back into me and pounding on my chest, breaking my ribs, so giving up would be a waste of time, wouldn't it?"

"You got that right," Hercules pretended to growl. But, his voice was almost breaking as he vowed, "If this potion doesn't work, we'll find another way…"

"Sure," murmured Iolaus, his strength spent as he drifted back to sleep.

"Hang on, Iolaus," Hercules whispered back. "Please, just hang on."

Aesclepius came to keep the vigil with Hercules a little while later. Hercules stood and moved back to allow Aesclepius room to examine his partner. The healer was worried that Iolaus hadn't improved more by now. However, the fact that he was breathing on his own was encouraging, but that and the fact that his heart hadn't shut down again were the only improvements. The venom still seemed to hold his body in thrall. The healer frowned as he stood back from examining his patient.

"Why isn't he getting better?" Hercules asked. Aesclepius turned to face him and almost winced at the pain and fear he saw within his cousin's eyes.

"Hercules, there is some improvement. He is breathing again on his own, and his heart is still beating," the healer pointed out. "But," he added, almost reluctantly, "I must tell you that I suspect the venom of the serpent is the same poison Hera used to try to kill you. It is very powerful, and it's of the gods…."

"The same poison?" Hercules cut in, startled. Frowning, he tried to understand why Aesclepius would have come to this conclusion. "But, I didn't end up paralyzed or blind…." Hercules' voice trailed off, as he wondered if the effects of the venom were worse for a mortal.

"Your semidivine nature slowed the progress of the venom. Your strength drained away until you could scarcely move, but because he's mortal, the paralysis has taken him faster. If Iolaus had not have gotten the water for you, in extremis, you also would have been paralyzed and blind," Aesclepius replied. "It was just a matter of time."

"But, if the water cured me…" Hercules replied, not understanding why it should work for him and not Iolaus.

"The pure water, yes, because it is also of the gods, and it worked for you because you are part god. But, I dare not give Iolaus undiluted water…it would kill him," Aesclepius responded quietly.

Hercules gazed at Aesclepius in frustration. His anxiety for his partner, his growing sense of desperation, was building toward anger. He didn't want to hear what couldn't be done to help Iolaus…he wanted his friend safe, wanted him well, wanted this nightmare to be over. His voice harsh, he protested, "You're the God of Healing…there must be something you can do. You perform 'miracles' to heal other mortals everyday. Why won't you do more for him?"

"I heal illnesses and injuries of this world, Hercules, of the mortal world. The venom is from the domain of the gods…it is beyond my capacity to do more than provide him with the potion I have made from the sacred waters," Aesclepius sighed, looking away from the growing despair and anger in the demigod's eyes.

Feeling helpless, knowing Iolaus was lying there because of him, paying the price of saving his life, guilt making him want to strike out at something, anything, Hercules growled, "You knew, didn't you, about the serpent, and the venom. That that's likely what Hera used against me?"

The healer sighed as he looked back into the furious eyes glaring at him. "I suspected it yes, from your symptoms. The only cure for the venom is the water the serpent protected. It seemed likely that Hera would choose such a weapon against you, believing that you would never figure it out, and even if you did, you'd be unable to get to the water in time to save your own life. And, in that, she was right. You'd be dead now if not for Iolaus."

"How could you send him there, knowing the dangers?" Hercules demanded harshly, hating the fact that Iolaus' suffering was the cost of saving his life. Gods, Aesclepius had sent Iolaus into that cave knowing what could happen to him. He had to clench his fists and hold them rigidly by his side to keep from shaking or striking the god standing before him. "Who gave you the right to decide my life was worth more than his?"

"He did," Aesclepius replied quietly, not rising to the anger, understanding it.

"What?" Hercules paused, and the anger went out of him, leaving only the guilt and grief that had fueled the anger.

"That's right, Hercules. Iolaus made that decision, made that choice. I warned him that it would be very dangerous, that he could very well suffer terrible injury, but he was determined to do whatever he could to save your life, regardless of the consequences," Aesclepius said softly. "He said that the purpose of his life was to take care of you…so that you could take care of the world."

"I take care of the world, and you take care of me," Hercules echoed numbly as he looked down at Iolaus. "But, who takes care of you?" he whispered softly, heartache clear in his voice. The demigod shook his head wearily as he slumped down into the chair and took Iolaus' hand in one of his.

Aesclepius noticed his trembling, and moved to lay a supporting hand upon his cousin's shoulder. His voice hoarse, the demigod said quietly, "Sometimes, in my arrogance, I pretend that I'm the one who takes care of him. But, it's never been the truth. For all of my life, he has been there, looking out for me, standing between me and danger, putting my needs ahead of his own. He never seems to understand that I've never wanted this from him…never wanted him to trade his life for mine. I've tried to tell him, so many times, but he just won't listen…." Hercules' voice cracked and he lowered his head, blinking back tears.

"He can no more stop himself from doing whatever is required to protect you than he could stop the sun from rising," Aesclepius sighed, then continued. "I've known the two of you a long time, and I know that he offers nothing to you, does nothing for you, that you also do not offer, or would not do for him."

"I know," murmured Hercules. "It's just that I hate seeing him so hurt, and I'm so afraid of losing him. You have to help him, Aesclepius. You have to make him well. He doesn't deserve to suffer like this… please…help him."

The healer stiffened at the entreaty, and realized that Hercules either did not understand or had not accepted that there was nothing anyone could do for Iolaus beyond what had already been done. The fact was, Iolaus wasn't likely to get any better, the paralysis and blindness might well be permanent. If he lived at all. With sincere regret, he said quietly, "I've told you, Hercules, there's really nothing more I can do for him. I'm sorry."

Hercules had heard him the first time. He just hadn't wanted to believe it, had refused to accept it. The healer felt Hercules' muscles tense under his hand as the demigod absorbed the meaning of everything Aesclepius had told him. His buddy looked so vulnerable, lying there in the dim light of the temple, so still. The candlelight played over his friend's pale face, and now that the fever was abating, Iolaus' hand felt cold in his grasp.

The potion wasn't working, wasn't curing the effects of the venom. Hercules' heart twisted at the thought that there really might not be anything more that Aesclepius could do, that Iolaus might have to suffer like this for the rest of his life. Gods, it wasn't fair. There had to be something they could do to help him.

It was then that Hercules recalled what Aesclepius had said about the power of the venom, and that the pure, undiluted water was the only cure. Feeling sick, having to exert a rigid control on his voice to keep it from breaking, Hercules asked, "Is it possible that the potion is just delaying the final, fatal effects of the venom? Like it did when you gave it to me?"

Aesclepius gazed at Hercules, his eyes filled with compassion. "Yes, I'm afraid that is very possible, even likely."

Feeling as if his world was shattering, Hercules shook his head numbly. He could not let it end like this, couldn't accept that he might be losing Iolaus. Desperately, his mind cast about for options, for something, anything, which might still hold out some hope. Turning to Aesclepius, he said with an unsteady voice, "No, I can't accept that. There must be something…what if you gave him a stronger dose?"

"Hercules, it's too dangerous. In trying to cure him, we might well kill him. It's better if we wait to see if he improves," the healer cautioned.

"The poison is of the gods, so the cure has to be of the gods. You said the water is the only cure for the venom…so, if he doesn't get better, we may have no choice but to give him some of the pure water," Hercules persisted quietly. He couldn't give up. He wouldn't.

"Hercules! You don't know…." Aesclepius protested.

But the demigod cut Aesclepius off, turning on his cousin, his voice tight with grief and fear. "Don't you see, if he doesn't get better, then it means the venom is killing him. If he's going to die anyway, the only choice left to try to save him is to let him drink the pure water."

"I will not be party to making his last moments of life an unendurable torment," Aesclepius stated firmly. "You have no idea of the agony you will cause him to absolutely no purpose."

"Then I'll give it to him myself," Hercules murmured, taking on the responsibility for the decision, in case he was wrong, and Aesclepius was right, and the pure water killed Iolaus outright.

He couldn't just sit here and watch Iolaus' life drain away without trying to save him, even if Aesclepius did believe it was hopeless. But, gods, the idea of what he proposed to do terrified and sickened him. Would he only be torturing his friend, as Aesclepius believed, or would he be saving Iolaus' life?

* * *

For two days, Hercules kept watch, hoping against hope that Iolaus would improve, but he didn't. If anything, his breathing began to grow ragged again. It was no use. The venom was not going to relinquish the hold it had on his body. Even the extra doses of the potion Aesclepius gave the warrior had no apparent effect.

During those times when he was conscious, Iolaus had tried to keep up a cheerful front, tried to remain positive for Hercules' sake if not for his own. But, as it became clear to him that he wasn't getting better, in fact was getting worse, he knew they had to face reality. In a way, he was relieved. If he wasn't going to get better, he really didn't want to live, regardless of what he'd told Hercules, or of the demigod's reassurances.

He knew Herc would never abandon him, and that was the problem. If he couldn't see, or walk, or feel, or feed himself, or take care of himself in any way, Hercules would be chained to him for no purpose other than to nurse him. Iolaus couldn't stand that thought. He'd rather be dead. It wasn't as if he was a scholar, who could still find a way to work, to make a contribution with his voice and his mind. He was a warrior and a hunter. His whole identity was that of a man who took on physical threats and dangers, who used his body and skill to help others and to guard the back of his best friend. Lying here like this, he had no purpose, no reason to live. Worse, as a burden that would tie Hercules to his side, he had reason to die.

They had to talk about this, had to accept that there was nothing more either of them could do. The race was over, at least for him. "Herc?" Iolaus murmured, knowing his friend was constantly by his side. Gods, the man never slept, didn't seem to eat. This couldn't go on.

"Yeah buddy?" Hercules replied, leaning forward to better hear Iolaus' breathy voice.

"I know you don't want to hear this," Iolaus began, "but, please, Hercules, hear me out."

There was a silence as Hercules digested the words and the tone. He felt cold with the realization that Iolaus wanted to prepare him to say goodbye. "Alright," he finally replied, reluctantly. He couldn't deny Iolaus' right to say what he felt. If he did, then his buddy would just pull away from him, hold it inside…suffer it all alone.

"We both know it's not working, the potion," Iolaus said quietly. "We have to face the fact that we're not going to win this round."

"I'm not ready to quit yet," Hercules replied, his voice tight, almost rough. Iolaus' time was running out and his buddy was on the edge of giving up. There was no choice left but to try the pure mystical water…and that thought made his heart clench.

"You'll never be ready to quit," Iolaus said, a slight grin gracing his face. "You don't know how to quit. But, I'm tired, Herc," he continued, the grin fading, his voice ringing with weary sincerity. "This is no life, it's not even survival. It's just endurance. And, I'm getting worse again, I know it. It's harder and harder to breathe all the time. I'm…I'm not going to keep fighting it. I don't want you to hate me for it…please understand…" his voice cracked and he had to stop.

He felt Herc's fingers on his face and was grateful that he still had that slight awareness left in his body. "I know, Iolaus. I understand," the demigod said softly, a tremor in his voice. "But…there's one thing more we can try. It's dangerous, and it might kill you even faster than the venom is killing you, but…"

"What?" Iolaus asked, a hint of eagerness in his voice. Whatever it was, whether it killed him quick or cured him, he wanted to try it. Either way, this endless nothingness would be over and his spirit would be free if not his body. In a way, it would let him go out fighting, rather than just lie here, dying a breath at a time.

"I want to try the pure water from the spring," Hercules explained. "I know it's dangerous. But, it seems that nothing less can neutralize the venom. I'm…scared to give it to you. Aesclepius thinks I'm crazy…and brutal in my selfishness in wanting to do anything I can think of to hold onto you. He said the pure water would only cause you unspeakable agony. I don't want to hurt you anymore than you've already been hurt…I don't want you to suffer. It's just that…I don't know what else…." The demigod's voice broke.

"Get it," Iolaus said firmly with a grim determination.

"Are you sure?" Hercules asked, feeling a coward for wanting Iolaus to make the decision, to absolve him of the sole responsibility for this action.

"Oh, yeah, Herc, I'm very sure," Iolaus assured him, without any hesitation. "Win or lose, I want to try. The gods know, I'm dying anyway."

"Alright…I'll go get some of it from Aesclepius. Then, well, I want to take you out of here, out into the sunlight…." Hercules stammered, feeling somehow that it was all going too fast. He was almost glad Iolaus couldn't see his face, because he was sure that his fear, and grief, was written too plainly, and that it would hurt Iolaus to see it. He had to believe that this would work, or he could never go through with it.

"I'd like that," Iolaus said quietly, understanding that Hercules was offering him the dignity of a death away from the prying curious eyes of the others in the sanctuary, a death under the sky and not in some dim temple filled with disease and suffering.

"I won't be long," Hercules said as he again tenderly brushed the hair back from Iolaus' face. He wanted to scream with rage, with the pain of knowing that these might be their last moments. He wanted to sob with the sorrow of it, not knowing how he could bear living without Iolaus, how he could face the world and all its demands without his best friend beside him. Iolaus was all he had left of those he'd loved in his life. But, he just swallowed against the grief that welled within him and went in search of his cousin.

They had to try this, it was the only thing left they could do. For Iolaus' sake, he had to do this…but, in his heart, he was sick with the fear that Aesclepius was right, sick with the knowledge that he was quite likely about to kill his best friend.

As he heard Hercules leave, Iolaus realized that despite their spoken hope that this would work, both of them were behaving as if they both knew it was hopeless. Gods, they might only have moments left. He could feel the burn of tears in his eyes and blinked them away. He hated this, hated it all, raged against the Fates in his heart and cursed Hera in his soul. Hercules needed him, and he didn't want to die…but, nor could he live, not like this. Besides, there was no other choice. Soon, they'd know whether or not this last, desperate, gamble was going to work.

* * *

Less than half an hour later, over the harsh protests of his cousin, Hercules had obtained one of the waterskins he'd carried back from Olympus. Returning to the sanctuary, he wrapped the sheet that covered Iolaus securely around his buddy's body, then lifted his friend up against his chest. "There's a grove of trees not far from here…it's cool under the pines and peaceful. There's a view out over the valley…" Hercules said, barely able to speak.

"I know the place," Iolaus said, his mind replaying the memory. "I've always liked that spot."

"Okay," Herc murmured as he turned and bore his friend from the temple into the sunlight.

When he reached the pine grove, high on the hill above the temple, Hercules stood back against a tree and slid down its length until he was sitting with Iolaus curled against him. "We're here," he said hoarsely.

"Herc," Iolaus said quietly, "thanks for thinking of this, for being willing to try it. I know it's hard…"

"I can't tell you…Iolaus, you don't know how much…" Hercules had to bite his lip to keep himself from weeping, and he cursed himself for even now not being able to find the words to tell Iolaus how much he loved him.

Iolaus wanted to scream with his impotence, wanted to reach out and hug Hercules, wanted to take the waterskin in his own hands to absolve the demigod of all responsibility. If this didn't work, he was afraid it would haunt Hercules, that his friend would always wonder if there wasn't something else he should have done or tried. But, Iolaus couldn't do any of those things.

All he had left were words. They would have to be enough.

Taking a deep breath, Iolaus said softly, "It's alright. You don't have to tell me…I do know. I feel the same way about you. I'm sorry, Herc, I wish there was another way, another option, but there isn't anything else we can do. This is the only real choice we have left. And, maybe, we'll get lucky and this really will work. Hold a positive thought."

In spite of himself, Hercules snorted. "A positive thought? Gods, Iolaus…."

"Herc," Iolaus interrupted, but paused a moment, wondering if he should go on.

"What is it, buddy?" Hercules asked, trying to read the emotion on his friend's face, willing to put off the moment of no return for as long as possible.

Deciding it needed to be said, Iolaus swallowed and continued, his voice a little hoarse, "Herc, in case this doesn't work, I want you to remember that I wanted you to try this. I also want you to remember the fun we've always had together, how much good we've done, and I want you to keep on doing good. And," again, he hesitated, "well, I guess you know that ever since that first time we met, in that dusty yard outside the school, I've, well, I've felt like you're my kid brother."

Iolaus' sightless eyes had a faraway look in them, and there was a gentle smile on his face that broke Hercules' heart. "You were such a skinny little thing, and so serious. I guess that's about the only time we were the same height," he continued, with a genuine, bright grin. "But, even though you got to be a lot taller, and stronger, than I am, I still think of you as my kid brother. I…I don't tell you often enough how proud I am of you. Despite all the terrible things that have happened to you, you're still kind, and decent, and you still care about what happens to other people. You're a good man, Hercules. And, well," Iolaus' voice cracked a little, but he carried on, "I love you more than anyone, or anything, else in creation. I always will…even death can't ever change that." Iolaus' voice broke.

Somehow, he knew that Hercules was holding him more tightly, and without seeing them, he knew there were tears on the demigod's cheeks. Gods, he wished he could see his friend one last time, if this was to be the last time. But, maybe it would work. He had to believe that, had to hold onto that thought, to have the strength to help Hercules do what was needed. Pasting a wry grin on his face, he looked toward where he thought Herc's face was, and with what he hoped was laughter in his eyes, he said, "Now, I'm thirsty. You got any water on you?"

Hercules looked down at his infinitely brave and compassionate friend, and saw how hard it was for Iolaus to breathe, let alone give comfort to him, but he was still trying to make it easy, still doing his best to take care of Hercules himself. The demigod had to blink away the tears that glittered in his eyes, wishing he could find words like Iolaus always seemed to be able to do, words to say what was in his heart. But, his throat was so tight, he didn't know if he could speak at all. He was terrified of what might happen next, but Iolaus was slipping away from him, and the water in the 'skin over his shoulder was the only thing left that just might hold him here.

Taking a deep breath, he whispered, "Yeah, I've got some water." Pulling the 'skin from his shoulder, he drew out the cork stopper with his teeth and spit it away. Then, Hercules bent forward, and pressed his lips to Iolaus' forehead for a moment. Before holding the waterskin to Iolaus' lips he said, all the love he felt trembling in his voice, "Here's the water, Iolaus…and, gods, brother, I hope this works…."

Iolaus gulped down the water and felt it burn his mouth and throat. He couldn't take much of it before he had to close his lips against it. He went from feeling nothing to feeling as if he was filled with fire, as if flames were consuming him from the inside, as if he was the heart of a raging inferno. He bit back the scream that rose to his throat, and Hercules watched in horror as bloody foam bubbled from his best friend's lips, and then Iolaus was convulsing in his arms, unaware of the screams that finally ripped past his teeth. Hercules held onto him, firmly but not so tight as to break his bones as his body writhed in Hercules' arms.

"No, oh gods, no," Hercules whispered, tears of grief-stricken horror filling his eyes, believing Iolaus was dying in terrible agony, just as Aesclepius had warned him would happen if he gave the undiluted water to his friend. Finally, the hoarse screaming ceased and Iolaus collapsed, limp and unmoving in his arms, the breath no longer rattling in his throat, his eyes closed, no longer staring sightlessly at the world around him.

Hercules pulled his best friend close, burying his face in Iolaus' hair, sobbing out his grief and guilt. "Ah, gods, Iolaus, I'm sorry…" he whispered through the tears that blinded him. "I'm so sorry…."

The demigod didn't know how long he sat like that. Time seemed to have stopped, and nothing in the world beyond this place mattered any more. He felt numb, empty…lost. The sun moved one handspan and then another.

Aesclepius had approached, drawn by the gutteral, heartstopping screams, but when he saw his cousin curled over his best friend's body, weeping, he moved away silently, to let Hercules grieve in peace. It had been worth trying, though he hadn't held out any hope. The healer felt a deep sorrow that he'd never see the dauntless warrior again, never hear the engaging giggle or suffer the irreverent teasing. Glancing back once over his shoulder, he wondered how Hercules would ever survive without Iolaus, and he felt a deep anger that, in a way, Hera had won after all. Hercules might still be breathing, but Aesclepius had no doubt that he was dead inside.

The afternoon was fading. Hercules had been sitting quietly for some time, his back against the tree, Iolaus cradled gently in his arms as the demigod stared blindly out at the rolling forested hills beyond. He could only see the memories that unfurled before his eyes, years of memories of what would be no more. He swallowed through a throat made rough by tears, and looked down at the now peaceful face of his best friend. Using a corner of the sheet that covered Iolaus' body, he wiped away the blood from his partner's lips. Gently, he stroked back the unruly golden curls that always seemed to tumble over Iolaus' eyes, and let his fingertips linger on his partner's face.

The movement of his hand stilled, and his breath caught in his throat. Iolaus' skin wasn't cold. It was warm under his hand. He'd been so afraid the sacred water would be too powerful for his mortal friend, virtually certain that it would kill him, but had gone ahead out of desperation. Aesclepius had had no doubt the water would be fatal, and, at the end, even Iolaus had shown he was prepared for the last gesture of defiance they could make against the Fates to fail. So when Iolaus had convulsed and then had gone so still, so pale without the flush of fever, Hercules had assumed the worst. Hope flickered in the demigod's eyes as he moved trembling fingers to Iolaus' throat and his heart felt like it would burst when he felt the faint flutter of a heartbeat, and then another.

"Iolaus?" he whispered, shifting his friend in his arms and pushing the sheet in which Iolaus was bundled away so that he could lay a hand on his buddy's chest…and he felt the slight rise and fall as Iolaus breathed shallowly.

Oh gods. He was still alive!

Hercules shuddered with the realization that there was still a chance. He should have known. Had he not been so distraught, he would have realized that Thanatos had not come. Carefully, Hercules rose to his feet, bearing Iolaus with him, held tightly against his chest. He was almost afraid to hope for too much, afraid that this was only a last brief flicker of life before Iolaus finally left him. But, he couldn't stave off the hope that welled within his soul. He took a deep, shuddering breath, then turned and bore his friend back to the sanctuary.

Aesclepius saw him coming and walked out to meet him. "Hercules, I'm so sorry," he said sincerely.

"He's still alive," the demigod replied quietly, his face carefully schooled not to show too much emotion, but the hope shone clearly from his eyes.

"What?" exclaimed the god of healing, wondering if his cousin was denying reality. But, he looked closer and noticed that Iolaus' skin was not gray with death, but only pale. He moved forward and laid his hand on Iolaus' head, feeling the spirit still within the body. Looking up at Hercules, scarcely able to believe the evidence of his own eyes and hands, Aesclepius motioned back toward the sanctuary. "Bring him. We must keep him warm."

Hercules followed Aesclepius back to the cot that had been assigned to Iolaus and gently laid his friend upon it. The healer draped a woolen blanket over his still form, then stood there marveling at what he could not believe was really true. The water from the sacred spring should have killed him, but instead it seemed it had warred with the venom, driving it from the warrior's body, but had left behind a flicker of life.

"Is he going to make it?" Hercules finally dared to ask.

Aesclepius gazed at Iolaus for a long moment more, then turned to face the demigod. "He should already be dead," he said, a wondering note in his voice, "but, since he isn't, I don't know what to think. To be honest, I don't know if he will live, but if he makes it through the next night, he might well recover fully. I'm sorry, it's just too soon to be certain."

Hercules nodded and sank back onto the chair he'd rarely moved from over the past two days. 'Not sure' was better than nothing. Iolaus had a chance. He took his friend's hand and held it between both of his own. Bowing his head, he wished he could pray, but he could only hope with all his heart that his partner would come back to him.

* * *

There were moments during the long night when Hercules wondered if the dawn would ever come again. Iolaus lay still, hardly breathing, but he clung to life. Somewhere inside, a desperate battle was being waged as Iolaus fought with all that was left within him to survive. During those cold hours, Hercules wondered, even if he lived, if Iolaus would still be blind, still be paralyzed…and, if he was, would he regret that the water hadn't killed him after all.

The sky was just beginning to lighten in the east when Iolaus stirred, moving restlessly on the cot. Hercules' lips parted as he watched every move, watched and listened for every breath, his face drawn and pale from a night of worry and despair warring in his heart with hope and the conviction that if Iolaus had made it this far, he'd make it all the way back. And, just now, Iolaus had moved! Something he'd been unable to do before he'd taken some of the pure water. Hercules' fists tightened unconsciously as he held in the tumult of emotions that assailed him, gripping his heart, making it hard to breathe.

With a soft moan, Iolaus rubbed his aching head with his left hand and blinked, gazing with a certain confusion around the dim interior of the temple. But, when his gaze came to rest on Hercules, he smiled.

"Hey," he murmured, wondering if he was dreaming.

"Hey yourself," Hercules replied, reaching out to lay a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You can see."

"Yeah…and I can move and feel my body again, too," Iolaus replied, the smile widening, the glow of energy and boundless life lighting his eyes. "Gods, Herc, you did it! The water worked!"

Hercules nodded, as he swallowed hard and blinked rapidly, biting his lip to hold back the flood of emotion that filled him. "Yeah, I guess it did."

Iolaus gazed at his best friend, and a slight frown appeared between his brows. "Herc," he observed, "you look like you've been to Tarturus and back." When his friend didn't answer immediately, a suspicious light appeared in Iolaus' eyes. "You haven't have you…I mean, you didn't have to make any deals, or anything like that?"

Hercules looked away as he ran fingers across his eyes to wipe the moisture from them and then pushed his hair back from his face. "No," he finally replied, "I haven't been anywhere but here. There weren't any deals I could make, or you'd have been better long before now."

Iolaus studied him a moment more, reading the lines of pain, the drawn look of exhaustion and understood how hard the last hours had been on his friend. Sitting up in one smooth motion and rolling to put his feet on the floor, he looked around and stretched, loosening muscles that had been still for too long.

"Maybe you should rest a while more," Hercules suggested.

"Nah, I really feel great, to tell you the truth," Iolaus replied with a grin, and an impish light in his eyes. "And, I'm starving."

"Really?" Hercules asked, not sure he fully believed him. Iolaus would say that just to make him feel better.

Standing, Iolaus replied, "Absolutely. Let's go raid the kitchen!"

Hercules smiled, then, and let the worry and fear wash away as he followed Iolaus from the sanctuary. Catching up with his friend, he looped a long arm around Iolaus' shoulders. "It's good to have you back," he said, his voice a little rough, meaning it with all that he was. Iolaus nodded in full agreement.

"Hey," Iolaus said brightly as a new thought struck him. Turning to Hercules, he asked with irrepressible merriment, "Do you think that magical water made me immortal, you know like it makes the gods immortal?"

Hercules choked a bit, not sure whether to laugh or smack him. "Let's not risk finding out," he replied, shaking his head.

"Yeah, but wouldn't it be neat…" Iolaus rattled on.

"Iolaus…" Hercules tried to cut in.

"Just imagine the possibilities…" Iolaus babbled on, waving his hands.

"IOLAUS!" the demigod shouted to break into what could be an endless stream of speculation.

"What?" the warrior asked, turning to face his best friend.

Hercules grinned, then laughed with irresistible joy at the wide look of innocence his partner was bestowing upon him, knowing that Iolaus was playing with him. Gods, it felt so good, but he only swallowed the laughter to observe mildly, "I thought you said you were hungry."

"Oh yeah, right. I think the kitchen building is over there," Iolaus pointed then ambled off in the indicated direction.

Hercules watched him for a moment, then murmured to himself, "Really, really glad to have you back."

The warrior was pleased that he had erased the lines of worry and the haunted look from Herc's eyes, had even made him laugh. His buddy had looked like he really had been through Tarturus, and in a way, Iolaus figured he had been over the last three weeks.

Herc had suffered life threatening illness, had lost his strength which was, for Hercules, an assault on his identity. He'd been helpless and had had to be dragged from place to place, unable to even stand let alone walk. He'd had to face the possibility of dying. And, he'd had to watch his best friend suffer, knowing Iolaus' injuries had been incurred to save the demigod's life. Though he'd finally gotten Herc to stop behaving as if such situations were all his fault, he knew his friend well enough to understand that Hercules would never stop feeling some guilt and responsibility, whether justified or not. Hercules had even had to come to the point of believing he'd killed that friend before it was all over.

Iolaus knew that if he had died, Hercules would have been haunted by guilt for the rest of his life. It was that knowledge, more than anything else, that had given him the strength to cling onto life, to fight with every fibre of his being to resist being drawn into the swirling darkness that had beckoned to him, promising release from the fiery torment he'd suffered from the mixture of the water and the venom within his body.

Iolaus knew, better than anyone else ever could, how much the demigod had suffered through all of it. Some part of him had heard Hercules' weeping over him, had heard the overwhelming grief and guilt in his best friend's voice and Iolaus' heart broke when he remembered the pain Herc had suffered. He despaired of the physical and emotional agonies Hercules seemed doomed to endure, just because of who he was, and he despised the being who caused most of that pain. Herc didn't deserve it, had never deserved any of it.

Standing behind him, Hercules couldn't see the smile disappear from Iolaus' face, or the flinty look of furious hatred in his eyes as he looked toward the northern horizon, toward Olympus.

Iolaus knew he was tempting the Fates, but he was too angry to care. "Damn you, Hera," his soul raged with such passion she could not help but hear. "Damn you for the torment you put him through. You LOST! Do you hear me? You will always lose. I will NOT let you have him, or hurt him, anymore. I'll fight you with every breath in my body. Get over your stupid jealousy and LEAVE HERCULES ALONE!"

There was a sudden flash of lightning in the clear sky to the north, and the low rumble of thunder, as if she was more than prepared to answer his challenge, furious that he would dare to instruct her. But, then, almost immediately, there was a sharper, brighter flash of lightning, a longer, louder rumble of thunder… and the clouds that had appeared in the clear northern sky vanished as mysteriously, and eerily, as they had first appeared.

Iolaus studied the distant horizon, and figured that even if Hera was annoyed with how things had turned out, Zeus couldn't have been unhappy about it. Had he just seen Zeus step between the jealous goddess and themselves? 'Maybe so,' he thought, with a slow smile. He hoped so.

Iolaus looked back over his shoulder at Hercules, who was still standing there gazing at him with the look of a kid on Solstice morning on his face. Iolaus didn't ever have to hear the words from Hercules. He knew that look was for him, and he was deeply touched by it. In response, Iolaus grinned widely and called, "Hey, hurry it up, Herc…I'm starving!"

Hercules nodded and jogged to catch up with him. Iolaus turned back toward the kitchen and caught the scent of fresh baked bread. He felt deeply grateful to be able to see, to move, to feel the wind against his skin and to have his best friend walking by his side, a companionable arm looped around his shoulder, touching him to make sure he was really there.

Smiling to himself, he started to whistle.

Finis