HTLJ: The Rose

by Arianna18

Iolaus takes a desperate gamble to release Hercules from one of 'Dite's wayward spells

"You do remember how powerful this stuff is, right?" Cupid eyed his mother with some trepidation. She'd been thrilled when he had developed the special formula for what he fondly called the 'passion potion' to generate an immediate surge of overwhelming, irresistible emotion focused on a specific individual. It had brought him a unique capability in the pantheon of gods. Most particularly, it provided him with a specific role which augmented and supported his mother as the Goddess of Love.

His father's disgust had been muted, marginally, by the fact that he used one of his father's weapons, the bow, to deliver his potion to mortals. Ares had always thought the potion might have had more useful application in the arena of war, and he spent many entertaining hours imagining how he might acquire a barrel of the stuff to use for his own ends. Cupid and 'Dite tended, of course, to draw upon and reinforce the 'I love you' side of passion, but Ares believed the potion could be equally powerful in defining relationships which drew upon the 'I love you not' passions of mortals, commonly known as blind, unreasoning, murderous hatred.

'Dite had come to collect the single, perfect crimson rose she had left soaking in the potion for the past day. She had discovered that the potion could imbue a rose with its powers, providing it was left to steep from sunrise to sunrise. The power of the rose was such that the crushing of a single petal would have the same effect as Cupid's arrow. This had a number of advantages, not least of which were the facts that she did not have to rely upon her son to get around to aiming at those she had chosen for the exquisite experience of passionate love, but also that she could delegate the delivery of this gift to others, one petal at a time.

Cupid wasn't entirely certain that his mother fully realized how powerful the potion was, and that great care needed to be taken with its handling and delivery.

She made a face at his routine reminder of the power of the potion. Sometimes she thought her son believed her to be a feather-brained dolt. Just because she flirted, teased and dressed, or didn't, to suit herself, did not mean she was a few candles short of a chandelier. She was just as bright as any of the other gods, and brighter than many. "Yadda, yadda, ya. Of course I understand its power, my dear child! Why do you think I use it?" she scolded.

Cupid frowned, still nervous, but realized there was no point in pursuing the discussion. "All right," he acquiesced. "So, do you have anything in special in mind for this batch of petals?"

"Hmm," considered 'Dite as she held the rose over the goblet in which it had lain, to allow the extra drops of potion to drip from it before taking it back to her Temple on Olympus for safekeeping. "Just the first petal, so far. There's a mean, old miserable warlord near Patras who is determined to ruin my Festival of Love. He will insist upon killing and pillaging. He and his gang have about as much romance in their souls as a pit of vipers or a pack of wolves." Dite rolled her eyes. "So, I thought I'd introduce him to a new concept called LOVE! Show him there are better ways to spend his time than dreaming of the glories of war."

"Dad won't like that," Cupid warned. "You aren't supposed to poach on the worshippers of other gods, certainly not by dimming their normal perceptions and influencing them through the use of your powers."

Dite shrugged, unconcerned. "Ares doesn't hesitate to tear up perfectly good relationships and marriages, to destroy families and friendships or to separate loved ones, all in the name of the Glory of War," she stated, mimicking Ares' proud, enthusiastic tones whenever he reflected on the joys of his position as God of War, but there was a cutting edge under her tone. "I don't see why I can't turn the tables once in awhile. Besides, the power of the rose will only hold the warmonger in thrall for a week or so. After that, he will pursue his heart's desire with his own free will. Either that will prove to be a woman who will bring him light and love, or it will be his old warrior ways, demonstrating that war, power and glory really are all he cares about. I'm just showing him that he has a choice."

"And, by then, my Festival will be over, and he won't have ruined it!" she concluded, half under her breath.

Cupid threw his hands into the air and turned away, "I don't want to know about it. In fact, I don't know about it! I'm not even here," he said, then disappeared.

"Coward," 'Dite jeered, then grinned. Cupid was a flake, but she thought he was an adorable flake. And, he'd been brilliant to create this exquisite potion! She giggled, and disappeared from Cupid's workshop.

* * *

The dawn had only just begun to drive away the shadows of the night, but the two heroes were already up and ready for the day. Hercules and Iolaus had arrived in the hills outside Patras the night before to check out the disturbing stories of a new warlord in the area. Tarsus, who was drawing together forces to take over that sector of Greece, was said to be a brutal man, and a devotee of Ares. They knew if he wasn't stopped, many would lose their lives and those who lived would exist in impoverished and terrorized communities. It sometimes seemed to them that they spent their lives combating men like him, men who held no regard, let alone respect, for the lives or labour of others, who seemed to exist only to bring terror and death. Before it got to that state, they were determined to find a way to stop him, either directly by themselves, or by teaching the skills to resist effectively to the villagers and townsmen in the area.

Over the years, they had become expert at sharing the lessons they had learned long ago at the Academy, lessons of battle and defence, lessons of strategy and weaponry, lessons of life in the midst of death.

Now, it was time to begin again. Well used to the first steps, they first had to gather information. They needed to come to know Tarsus, his strengths and his vanities. So, as they finished their cold breakfast of leftover rabbit and a couple of apples, they decided on the roles they would each take, the knowledge they would each glean that day to help determine the nature of the threat, and to define their strategy of defence.

"I think I'll head down to Moritika and see what I can learn from the villagers about what has been happening," one hero said as he stood and stretched. "It's market day, so I should have a good chance of picking up the local news. If Tarsus has been making threats, or issuing ultimatums, someone there will have heard."

"Sounds good, buddy," the other responded. Then, with a gesture toward the valley below them, he continued, "I'll watch their camp for a while, see what kind of force he has, and how well they are equipped. I'll meet you at the temple in the village later this afternoon."

With a casual wave, one headed out, while the other settled by the fire, gazing across the valley at the warlord's camp below, watching as the brigands, too, began their day. But, half of his mind was on greeting an old friend at the temple, later. It had been too long.

* * *

"Elliara," 'Dite trilled as she materialized in her Temple near the market square in a village not far from Patras, the rose held loosely in her hand. She had decided to stop here on her way back to Olympus with the view that the sooner she acted to stop the warlord, the more able her worshippers would be to concentrate on the preparations for her festival.

"Yes, my Lady," responded her Head Priestess, with deceptive calm and decorum. Though neither tall nor imposing, she had an energy and presence that almost rivaled the Goddess. With riotous curls, the colour of a raven's wing glinting in the sun, eyes which danced like the turquoise sea under the sun, and a gamin smile which dimpled cheeks the delicate bloom of cherry blossoms, she could have been a wood sprite or nymph from a quiet glade seeking a moment's mischief. Instead, she was the mortal embodiment of love, glowing with the joy of life, a priestess who now bowed her head reverently, a warm smile of welcome lighting her face. "How may I serve you?"

"I've something very important, very special and very, very secret for you to do, Elliara. I have heard of the warlord camped in the hills, Dufus or Dorkas..."

"I think you mean Tarsus, my Lady," interjected Elliara softly, a cloud darkening the light in her eyes.

"Yeah, whatever, you know who I mean. Anyway, I've decided it's time to show him there is more to life than fire, blood and steel. It's time he learned about another kind of heat, you know, the burning desire to touch someone who turns his legs to water and sets other parts of him on fire. Instead of wanting victories, he'll want to share hopes, dreams and even sorrows, with a woman who matters more than gold. He is about to learn to value another mortal, and love her so completely that he would die to protect her, or live to make her life a joyful experience. In short, it's time for him to learn the mysteries of Love," the Goddess giggled.

Elliara grinned with a knowing twinkle in her eye and a playfully arched brow. "And, what better time to learn such lessons than during your Festival of Love?"

"Exactly!" crowed Aphrodite, pleased. "I knew you'd understand!"

Elliara laughed, a warm, rich musical sound. "And, how shall I serve you, Lady? How shall I introduce the Warlord Tarsus to these mysteries?"

'Dite gave her a conspiratorial grin. "It'll be so easy, you won't believe it. A single petal of this rose," 'Dite said, delicately removing the outside petal, then laying the rose upon the altar as she explained, holding the petal up for clarity, "has the power to bring him to his knees. It only needs to be crushed, as the words, 'You love me,' are said, and he will be enslaved, desperate with the desire to act out his love!"

Frowning slightly, Elliara held out her hand to take the petal, "May I?"

"Of course! I brought it for you," Dite affirmed, then continued, "Now, come along and we'll plot out exactly how and when to introduce Dumbas to the finer things in life!"

"Tarsus, my Lady," corrected Elliara.

"Yeah, him," Aphrodite agreed as she led Elliara more deeply into the shadows of her sanctuary, the rose on the altar forgotten for the moment.

* * *

Cleandra had been in the shadows on the far side of the altar when Aphrodite had appeared. Breathless, overwhelmed at being so close to the Goddess, she hovered to gaze in awe and humility at the divinity before her. Young, barely out of girlhood, she was small and pale, faded in the way of one far beyond her fifteen years. Few ever noticed Cleandra, and, if they did, they seldom remembered her afterward.

She had only recently joined the priestesses in Aphrodite's Temple, but in her heart, she'd not come to serve. No, Cleandra sought something else in the Temple of Aphrodite. For all of her life, Cleandra had craved love, never seeming to be able to get enough of it, and she'd thought, where better to find love than in the precincts of the Goddess of Love?

And, now, listening, she knew her prayers had been answered. The rose would bring her all the love she could ever desire! She hadn't meant to eavesdrop, no more than she would have ever dreamed she would steal something of the Goddess', but when Aphrodite and Elliara passed out of earshot, she could not help herself. A compulsion greater than her sense of decorum and discipline overwhelmed her. Scooping up the rose from the altar, she smiled ecstatically and skipped from the Temple, out into warmth, brightness and busy chaos of the market at midmorning.

Cleandra had never felt particularly attractive, let alone pretty, and certainly never beautiful. Her mother had died when she'd been little more than a babe, and her father, with his gruff way, had never made her feel special, or wanted, let alone loved. For all of her young life, she had felt invisible and sometimes she wondered if she even really existed or if she was only a figment of her own imagination.

For all her sweetness of temperament, Cleandra was not particularly bright, nor did she look much beyond the moment, never really being able to predict outcomes or consequences. As she danced into the square, heading toward the well at its centre, it never occurred to her that the Goddess might be less than pleased. She only knew that in moments the whole village would be filled with her admirers. Her only thought was that, finally, she had the means in her hand to generate the love she'd always needed, and wanted, so desperately.

* * *

Having worked out the details of the conquest of Tarsus with Elliara, who immediately began to prepare to pay a visit on the warlord, 'Dite went back to the altar, to collect the rose and take off to address her concerns and interests elsewhere. At first, when she didn't see the flower, she thought it must have simply blown to the ground, so she searched the floor all around the marble altar. When she didn't find the rose on the floor, she wondered if she had in fact absentmindedly carried it with her to Elliara's chambers, but when she returned there, Elliara assured her she had not. Elliara set out along the river path, heading down the long valley to the warlord's camp as 'Dite flashed back to the altar, and searched again, feeling more agitated. Where could it have gone?

Finally, she asked a passing acolyte if she had noticed the flower.

"A crimson rose, my Lady?" enquired the young girl hesitantly, blue eyes wide, awed to actually be speaking with the Goddess.

"YES!" 'Dite almost shouted, relieved. "Where is it?"

"I saw Cleandra carrying it out of the Temple, my Lady," the child replied, dutifully.

'Dite frowned, feeling a gnawing anxiety. Out of the temple? Why would the priestess take the rose out of the temple?

"Thanks," she said absently to the young girl, her mind already roaming, trying to pin down Cleandra's location. Sensing her in the square, 'Dite flashed from view.

* * *

At that time of day, virtually everyone in the village was in the market square. Children dashed between, under and around stalls, playing games of tag and hide and seek while trying to inconspicuously make off with such delights as a rosy apple, a bit of cheese, or most glorious of all, a piece of honeycake. Wives and mothers were out shopping for their families' midday and evening meals, checking the produce for freshness, seeking those with fewest blemishes, haggling over the chickens or the best cut of meat, and gossiping with friends. The men were roaming about, or lounging on steps, conducting important business, exchanging news, displaying their wares, discussing the weighty issues of the world or just plain loitering, enjoying the fresh air and sunshine. In addition, there were any number of strangers, travelers passing through on business of their own. The air was filled with the sounds of voices, the laughter of children and the mingled scents of spices, flowers and freshly butchered meats.

He'd been talking with the local magistrate, a frown between his brows as he listened to the man's stories of how Tarsus and his men had already conducted several raids on local farms, and had burned one to the ground. Absently, he noticed the priestess in the scarlet robe enter the market from the direction of 'Dite's temple, but turned away, intent upon learning as much as possible from the magistrate.

Cleandra floated through the crowd, not even caring that none of them noticed her. In moments, they would more than notice her, they would love her! All of these people, who were so intent upon their petty concerns and lives, strolling amidst the stalls, hawking their wares, gossiping, all would soon turn to her seeking only to do her bidding. Smiling in eager anticipation, she stepped up onto the base of the village well, tore more than half of the petals from the rose, crumpled them in her hand and threw them into the air, where the light wind caught them, and whirled them about, like delicate flakes of crimson snow. As the remains of the petals left her hands, she spread her arms wide and cried out, "YOU LOVE ME!"

The lively sounds of the market disappeared as if they had been no more than a sigh on the wind. There was a moment of profound silence, as if the world had tilted, leaving everyone in the square feeling dizzy and disoriented. Confused minds groped to remember what they had just been doing, saying, thinking, but it was gone, no longer important. They each felt a great surge of emotion, a longing that needed to be assuaged, a love which they had to give. All eyes turned toward her with adoration, faces haunted by their almost painful desire to do her will, to ensure her every happiness.

"I love you!" called a single voice, then another, until it was a loud refrain, echoing up to the skies.

"You will bring me joy, and respond to my every wish," she called to them, her eyes blazing with happiness, warmed by their adoration. 'Before day's end, you will give me all that you are."

Heads nodded fervently as more than two hundred pairs of eyes sought hers, wanting only to assure her that they belonged to her, their hearts, and minds, their energy, their lives.

"Follow me!" she commanded waving an arm imperiously, as she led them back to the Temple, where they might worship her in the proper surroundings.

* * *

Aphrodite arrived only in time to hear Cleandra's final exhortation before she commanded the crowd to follow her. In dismay, the Goddess of Love took in the mindless adoration everyone there showed for her young priestess. It was in their eyes and faces, and in the way each and every one of them followed her out of the square, as moths will follow the path of a flame.

"Oh no," 'Dite whispered appalled. She had to stop this, before it was too late. Glancing up at the sun, her face scrunched into a grimace of worry and despair. And when she saw who was in the crowd, her eyes widened with horror. Eyes, the colour of the morning sky, normally so warm and alert, were now fixed on Cleandra, unaware and uncaring of anything or anyone else in the world.

This was a disaster! She had to fix it, make it right! But, she couldn't do it alone.

* * *

"You have to help me!" shrieked Aphrodite as she materialized at the campsite, in panic mode. Uncharacteristically, she looked almost disheveled and completely unaware of her appearance. "Hurry! There's no time to lose! Oh, I'm going to be in so much trouble! C'mon! Why are you just staring at me like that? Get up! Get UP!"

"Whoa, slow down, Aphrodite! What's wrong?" he said, his voice tinged with only mild alarm, as he stood and kicked out the fire, half of his attention still on the warlord's camp across the valley. Aphrodite could be excitable, and a disaster in her mind could be something as insignificant as a broken nail.

"She's got him! He was in the square with all the others! Ohhhhh! You don't understand! This is TERRIBLE!!!" she babbled, words tumbling out, her pitch rising with each syllable.

"Who was in what square?" he responded with a frown, beginning to think that maybe something really was amiss. "Aphrodite, you have to calm down. I can't help if I don't understand. What's terrible?" She just shivered and wrung her hands, her face all scrunched up as if she was about to burst into tears.

He deliberately spoke slowly and calmly as he moved to stand in front of her. "Who's in trouble, Aphrodite? Who do you want me to help?"

She looked at him with huge blue eyes filled with something like horror. "Hercules," she whimpered softly.

Now, it was his turn to feel panic, as his heart clenched and his mouth went dry. "What are you talking about?" Iolaus demanded, his voice uncharacteristically harsh. "What's happened to Herc?"

"She took the rose, and put a spell over everyone, and she's ordered them to give her all they are before the day's end. Ohhhh, you have to stop this before it's too late!" she wailed.

Spell? Oh gods, what kind of spell? Iolaus had to get her to calm down. None of what she had said had made any sense. What rose?

Iolaus grabbed her by the arms, not harshly, not to hurt her, but to get her attention, to stabilize and anchor her. "'Dite, please, I'm going to ask you questions, and you're going to answer them, so that I can understand what's happened and what you need me to do, okay?" he said very clearly, very deliberately.

Her eyes wide, a terrifying look of dread within in them, she nodded wordlessly.

"Okay, so we're talking about the village of Moritika?" he asked, just to be sure she meant the village Herc had headed to earlier that morning. She nodded confirmation.

"Fine, I was supposed to meet Herc there later today," he replied thoughtfully.

"NOT later!" she wailed. "You have to go NOW!"

"Yeah, I got that part," Iolaus reassured her. "Now, what's this about the rose. What rose?"

"The rose I dipped in Cupid's 'Essence of Passion' potion, you know, the stuff he tips his arrows with," she explained, trembling like a terrified rabbit.

Iolaus frowned. He knew that whatever Cupid used was virtually irresistible. Herc had been caught by it once before and he'd had a devil of a time overcoming it, but he had. So why the panic this time? "Okay, I know what that is, I think," he said. "Who took the rose?"

'Dite's eyes skittered away as she mumbled, "Cleandra, a priestess in my Temple. She took it from the altar."

His eyes narrowed at the evident signs that she was feeling serious guilt about that, but he let it go for the moment. "All right, tell me how the rose works and how long the spell lasts," he requested, still thinking that this couldn't be all that serious. Cupid was shooting people with the stuff all the time, and so far as Iolaus knew, the experience wasn't all that bad. In fact, it was rumoured to be pretty good.

She heaved a sigh. "You're supposed to just crush a single petal and say either, 'you love me,' or 'you love me not', but nobody would ever say that because it, just, well, whatever, anyway, if it's only one petal, the spell lasts for a week or so.

"So, you're upset because these people, including Hercules, will be under the spell for a week?" Iolaus asked, trying to get a handle on why she seemed so terrified.

Shaking her head vigorously, she murmured, her voice cracking as if she was going to start crying, "No, she must have crushed most of the rose, and the spell is unbelievably powerful. Every man, woman and child in the village is trapped in a kind of trance, beyond anything you'd recognize as passion, far beyond...." Sighing, she continued, "She commanded them to give all they are to her before the day ends. They don't have any choice, Iolaus, they'll have to do her bidding!"

"Well, she'll just have to give it all back, when the spell runs its course," he replied, thinking she meant possessions, only to see her eyes fill with tears as she again shook her head. There was something here he still wasn't understanding. "Then, what does it mean?" he demanded, frowning.

"All they 'are', all their memories, their thoughts, their energy, their life force," she said in a shuddering voice, imagining Zeus' reaction if she couldn't stop this from happening to Hercules, let alone a whole village, just because she'd been careless. "All of it will flow to her at sunset. She will go mad...and Herc'll die, they'll all die."

Iolaus' eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. He felt as if the world had shifted under his feet, as if all the air was crushed from his body. Herc. "Die?" he repeated, and horror filled his eyes when she nodded.

"By the gods, 'Dite! Why did you give her such a powerful weapon?" he raged, terrified by the threat to Hercules.

"I didn't give it to her, she picked it up from the altar," 'Dite said defensively. "And, it wasn't supposed to be a weapon."

"You just left it lying around, knowing what it could do?" Iolaus shouted, the pitch of his voice rising with every word.

She waved her hands helplessly, wailing, "I didn't mean to...."

'By the gods," Iolaus thought as he pushed his hand through his hair, turning away from her, desperately wondering how to make this right. Swinging back, he demanded, "Why don't you just take the damned rose away from her and change the spell, or cancel it?"

"I can't! Don't you think I would have done that already, if I could? I'm not a moron," she snapped, but he just cast her a sideways glance that indicated he wasn't all that sure she wasn't.

Biting her lip, she explained, "I left it on the altar, accidentally, but still of my own will and it was picked up by a mortal. She now has the right to its use until either she, or another mortal who takes the rose from her, gives it back to me as an offering, laying it back on one of my altars. Then, I can cancel the spell."

Sounded 'way too complicated to Iolaus. "Why can't you just get another rose and make a new spell?' he asked, thinking this would be simpler and faster.

"Because the rose has to soak in Cupid's potion for a day and a night before it'll work, and we don't have that much time!" she exclaimed, impatient.

'Gods, what a mess,' he thought, rubbing one hand across his mouth and chin. "Isn't there any other way to break the spell?" Iolaus asked.

"Only one, but, it's really hard to make happen. The person under the spell has to experience an overwhelming, life-shattering emotional moment to break this spell's hold."

Iolaus rolled his eyes and threw his hands into the air. "Don't you guys ever come up with something that is easy to fix?" he complained in disgust.

She narrowed her eyes, but didn't snap at him. She needed him to do this. She'd transgressed so many rules and boundaries, she'd never make it right with Zeus. And, if Hercules died because of her actions, she would bear the full responsibility for having killed the King of the Gods' favourite son...and her favourite brother, for that matter. "Iolaus, you have to get the rose and bring it to me, it's the only way!" she ordered.

"What if she just crushes another petal and puts me under the spell?" Iolaus asked with a frown, wondering how hard it was going to be to get the flower away from her.

"Good question," 'Dite reflected, obviously never having considered this. She pondered for a moment, then snapped her fingers and a small beaker appeared in her hand. The liquid inside was roiling with a wisp of steam rising from it. "Drink this and you won't succumb to the power of the rose."

Iolaus eyed the beaker suspiciously, but took it from her and cautiously swallowed it, expecting it to be hot. But, it was ice cold, surprising him and making him wonder what it was, and what fumes had been rising from it so obviously. Making a face as he handed the empty beaker back to her, he decided he probably didn't want to know, and didn't ask.

"How do I get Hercules out of there? Crush a petal and say 'You love me?'" he asked, determined to get his friend as far away from the danger he was in as possible.

"No, that won't work. Two different people can't work the 'you love me,' spell back to back. A spell either has to run its course or be broken by its opposite, 'you love me not'. But, Iolaus," she said doubtfully, shaking her head, "you really don't want to say that to Hercules. That spell inspires terrible hatred and the irresistible desire to kill the person who is hated."

'Wonderful,' he thought, hands on his hips as he looked at her, then up at the sky, gauging the position of the sun. It was almost midday, and it would take him more than an hour to get to the village. There was no time to lose. "Okay, I'll get the rose and put it on your altar. Where is flower now?"

'Dite shrugged, "I don't know what she did with it. You'll have to find it. And, I don't think just putting it on the altar in the Temple in Moritika will work...she'd just grab it back. You need to bring it to my small temple in the forest, about a mile from the village."

"Great," Iolaus muttered, 'this just gets better and better.' Hitching on his sword, Iolaus picked up his pack, slinging it over his shoulder. "I'll get there as quickly as I can," he called back to her, already running down the hillside to the road that led into the village.

* * *

It was spooky, no other word for it. A bright, ordinary day, and a village, which should be filled with people and noise and activity, deserted, everything just dropped where people had left it when they followed Cleandra to the Temple, or left in jumbled disarray as they had mindlessly rummaged for suitable tributes and offerings to give to her.

As Iolaus jogged into the village square, and took in its air of abandonment, he realized the first trick was going to be to get into the Temple as inconspicuously as possible to find out what she'd done with the rose. Chewing on his lip, he figured that shouldn't be too hard. He'd just bring an offering and arrive to worship at her feet like everyone else in the village was apparently doing.

Iolaus grabbed a wicker basket from one stall, and filled it with fruit from a variety of others as he made his way toward the Aphrodite's Temple. No one stopped him as he entered its cool, dim interior, where he paused to get his bearings. With dismay, he realized, there had to be more than two hundred people crowded around the young girl sitting on the Goddess' throne behind the altar, smiling joyfully at all the love which was being showered upon her. It was uncanny. No one spoke, no one moved. They just stood, or sat, as close to her as they could get, eyes blazing with fanatical devotion.

She noticed him standing in the entrance, and leaned over to whisper to one of the men sitting at her feet, who then rose and turned, crossing the sanctuary's hall to meet him. "Welcome, friend," the tall middle-aged man said, pleasantly enough, but his eyes didn't quite connect. "You may leave your offering over there." Following the man's vague gesture, Iolaus turned to look at a massive pile of food, jewelry, pottery and finely worked leather. If it had all been heaped upon the priestess, she would have been buried under the mound of gifts.

Nodding his understanding, Iolaus took his basket to the corner and left it, and his pack, with all the rest of the stuff, then turned and scanned the great hall of the temple, searching for Hercules. He spotted his friend sitting at the priestess' feet, gazing up at her with rapture.

Gods. It was sickening. And very, very scary. Iolaus had never seen Hercules like that before, oblivious to everything around him, with that crazy light in his eyes, eyes which remained fixed upon the face of the young priestess as if she was the most beautiful being in all creation. Iolaus began to truly understand the power of the spell that had enthralled his friend and everyone else here, blinding them to everything else in existence.

Carefully, trying not to draw attention to himself, he worked his way through the crowd toward the goddess. When he got there, he dropped down beside Hercules to see if he could break through, make contact with the demigod. "Herc?" he whispered quietly. His friend showed no indication of having heard him. "Hercules?" he called, a little louder. "Snap out of it, buddy. It's not like you to lose your grip like this. C'mon!"

This time, Herc turned to gaze at him. It was an unsettling experience. The demigod looked into his eyes, but didn't seem to recognize him, or if he did, who Iolaus was no longer appeared to matter to him. There was an emptiness in there, and Iolaus began to worry that maybe the transfer of memories and thoughts didn't happen all at once at sunset, but continued a little at a time all throughout the day.

He waved a hand in front of Herc's eyes, half an eye on the priestess, knowing she'd soon notice his antics and intervene. "Hello?" he murmured to Hercules, "anybody in there? Herc, this isn't funny." Lowering his hand when he'd gotten no reaction beyond a distant gaze of puzzlement, he tried begging, "Herc, listen to me. These people will die, you'll die, if you don't snap out of it!"

Nothing. There was no normal reaction to his words in those eyes. Only the tiniest sign of irritation. Hercules frowned slightly, resenting the distraction from giving his whole attention to the priestess, and responded hollowly, "She is all that matters to me." After a moment, Hercules turned away to rest his eyes again upon the object of his total absorption, his obsession, the priestess Cleandra. "I love her," he said quietly, fervently.

Iolaus shivered. Gods, he had to get Herc out of this! Not to mention all the rest of these people who were lost in the priestess' spell. Iolaus swallowed and gazed around the room looking for a likely hiding place for an enchanted rose, his eyes finally coming back to the priestess, to find her eyes on his.

"You are not like the others," she said, her hand reaching toward her neck. He watched the gesture silently, and was relieved to see her fingers close over a crimson bud at her throat. At least he wouldn't have to spend precious time searching for it. He frowned, thinking that if this had been a full-blown rose, she'd used a lot of petals.

She pulled a petal from what remained of the flower, crushing it, saying, "You love me," as her eyes bored into his. After a moment, he saw her eyes widen in shocked surprise when she realized he was unaffected.

"Look," Iolaus said quietly, raising one hand in a peaceful gesture, hoping to reason with her. "I don't want to hurt you. But, the spell you've made will kill these people when the sun goes down. You have to give the rose back to Aphrodite so that she can make sure that doesn't happen."

She frowned and her lower lip pouted a bit as she argued back, denying his words, "I don't believe you! She'd never make anything that would hurt anyone. These people are just showing their love for me."

"You're wrong!" Iolaus interjected, a little desperately. "You don't know what you're doing! Look, kid, you have to give me the rose!"

"No!" she replied, "you're lying! You just want it for yourself." Her hand clutched at the bud at her neck. "It's mine, I need it!"

When Iolaus opened his mouth to argue further, she rushed on, "Whoever you are, you don't belong here!" Her gaze going to Hercules, she commanded, "Remove him from my sight!"

"As you wish, my Lady," Hercules responded as he stood and reached out to take Iolaus by the arm, his grip unconsciously so powerful that it bruised.

"Oww!" Iolaus exclaimed, "Herc, that hurts!" He tried to pull his arm away, but it was hopeless.

As if he hadn't heard, and certainly as if he didn't care, the demigod just hauled Iolaus to his feet and dragged him through the crowd toward the great, bronze double doors at the entrance to the Temple. All the way across the hall, Iolaus kicked and dragged his feet, resembling nothing so much as a small boy being dragged off to an unwanted bath by a determined parent. At one point, he let himself flop on the ground, dragged along on his back by Herc's hand on his forearm, looking up at the ceiling thinking that he was going to get 'Dite for this.

Flipping over and regaining his feet, Iolaus pulled at Herc's fingers, but the vise-like grip was beyond his power to break. "Herc! Would you let me GO!" he shouted in frustration, his only comfort during this humiliating display of being treated like a recalcitrant child was that no one else paid them the slightest attention. At least he wouldn't have to live with everyone having seen him being dragged along like a baby, completely helpless, using all of his strength to resist with no success whatsoever. This was ridiculous!

As they got closer to the doors, and deciding the tantrum tactics weren't working, he tried cajoling, whining, pleading, sounding even more to his own moritified ears like a kid who wasn't getting his own way, "Herc, c'mon, you gotta remember me! It's Iolaus. You know, your comrade in arms, best friend, partner. Hey, you don't want to do this. I'm on your side. You're in trouble buddy, and I just want to help you. You've got to hear me! Please, Herc, listen!"

Nothing. He sighed in frustration, giving up the resistance, to walk like the grown up adult he was supposed to be by his partner's side, trying to ignore the fact that he didn't have any choice. Maybe quiet reason would work. "Hercules, you are under a spell cast by Aphrodite's rose. Something's gone wrong and the spell will kill everyone at sunset if you don't help me get the rose back to your sister. Now, you know you don't want everyone here to die. So, snap out of it already!"

But, when they reached the doors, Hercules just pushed one open, shoved Iolaus into the street with enough force to send him stumbling down the steps to land on his knees in the dirt below, then shut the door behind him, never having uttered a word or given any sign he'd heard or cared about what Iolaus had said.

For just a moment, Hercules felt something, a wisp of memory, a trace of misgiving, but then it was gone. He made his way back across the hall, to settle again in his place at his loved one's feet.

* * *

Elliara had time for a lot of thinking as she made her way along the valley to the warlord's camp. She understood Aphrodite's motivation in proposing this action. The Goddess was intent upon assuring that nothing interfered with the Festival of Love planned for the next week. The priestess did not see this as simple self-absorption on the Goddess' part. To the contrary, Elliara believed it was important to celebrate the concept and reality of love in the world. In her view, it was love that ennobled mortals, and was the single most sacred experience of life. Whether it manifested as fraternal, familial, platonic or erotic love was inconsequential, what was important was the relationship, the transcendent experience of being, in which one person put the welfare of another before themselves. Love was the fulfillment of humanity.

But, the celebration of love was not enough in itself to bring Elliara along this path. What she planned to do was a profanity of the sacred nature of love. To willfully enchant another, to manipulate their most noble yearnings for one's own ends was, in her mind, a soul endangering act. To do so often would lead to cynicism, and would compromise every value of honesty and integrity which guided her life's path. However, Tarsus threatened death to many. He represented the closest personification of evil that was possible for her to imagine. It had to be right to use every means possible to defeat him, to safeguard the wellbeing of innocents.

Still, it was a lie. To enthrall him, to make him believe he had fallen in love, simply to manipulate him was anathema. She struggled with her principles, the conflict in her values. Finally, she decided that despite the risk of the wound to her soul, and the violation of her principles, this abuse of love was tolerable to save the lives of countless others. What was one soul against hundreds of lives? What was her own shame in the face of that reality? She willfully, consciously, deliberately set her own misgivings aside, determined to undertake this mission with the conviction that, if it was not right, it was at least the lesser of all possible evils.

With a confident step, and taking no notice of the scruffy, dangerous men she was passing at the edge of the camp, Elliara moved toward the large tent pitched in the centre of the community of brigands. She heard the whistles and catcalls but paid them no mind. A half smile on her lips, she paused by the fire, calling out, "Tarsus, you have company!" Sniggers broke out at this announcement. Her crimson robes identified her as one of Aphrodite's women, and their 'company' was always welcome.

Tarsus threw back the flap of the tent and strode into the early afternoon light. He was a tall man, dark with sculpted brows, a long straight nose, sensuous lips, a mane of wild hair, a trimmed beard and black, flashing eyes. Robed in black leather, silver chains around his throat, and a silver buckle on his wide belt, he was a striking man, his presence daunting and intimidating. Whether it was conscious or not, his appearance bore an uncanny resemblance to Ares.

But, he didn't intimidate Elliara. She smiled up into the question in his eyes, and her own danced as she saw the fire of lust ignite in his. She crushed the petal in her hand, whispering, 'You love me,' then moved forward, taking his hand to draw him into the tent, as she saw the light in his eyes change to one of tender worship. As he turned to follow her, he heard a rude suggestion from one of his men. Whirling, hand moving to his sword, he glared around the gathered company of villains, silently daring them to mock or challenge him. They backed up at the threat in his eyes, startled...uncertain.

Without uttering a word, he turned and followed the priestess into the dark shadows of his tent.

* * *

Iolaus got up and brushed the dust off his clothes, muttering sarcastically, "Well, that went well...." Disgusted, he looked around, wondering what to do next. Herc didn't recognize him, so no help there. The conniving little priestess knew Iolaus wasn't falling for her spell, so she'd not want to see him again, and she didn't believe his warning that the spell was deadly, so she'd never voluntarily give up the rose. But, it wasn't a total loss. He knew where the rose was, or at least what was left of it.

They all acted like zombies, including Hercules, and he suspected she was the only one who would even remember he had been there. So, he just had to get close enough to grab the rose before she had Herc throw him out again. He ran back to the market square, looking at the goods, seeking inspiration.

His eyes alighted on stall that sold cloaks and capes. Sorting through the rack, he pulled out a brown, nondescript cloak with a hood that he pulled around himself, flipping the hood over his head to cover his unruly blond curls and shadow his face. Next, he went to the flower seller's stall and gathered up a huge armful of fragrant blossoms. Then, he turned and dashed back to the Temple, slowing as he reached the top of its steps and entering with pretended dignity and reverence.

Again, the man he'd come to think of as the 'greeter', met him just as he entered the hall. "Friend, welcome," the man said with a slight bow of his head. Iolaus bowed back, and held the flowers out a little, "I've brought a tribute for the priestess. I beg the indulgence of presenting these flowers to her, to acknowledge her fairness and express my devotion."

"A touching gesture I'm sure she will appreciate," intoned the man, his eyes not quite focused, his tone worshipful. "Please, friend, go forward."

Iolaus bowed again respectfully, and made his way, with an air of ceremony, through the crowd until he came to her throne. He held the flowers up, so that they would take her eye, and she'd be less likely to search the shadows of the cloak for his features.

"My Lady," he said softly, bowing. "May I approach and lay these flowers at your feet, that they may honour you with their beauty and delicate scent."

She smiled delightedly, her eyes glowing in appreciation of the offering, and at the worshipful tone and words of the supplicant. Graciously, she raised a hand and nodded as she beckoned to him, "Please, come forward!"

Head down, flowers held in front of him, Iolaus approached and knelt at her feet, carefully laying the abundance of blooms on the floor. She touched his bowed head gently, "Thank you for your thoughtfulness."

"Do not thank me, Lady. The gratitude is mine for being allowed to approach you so closely," he said quietly, then, in one motion, he rose quickly, hand outstretched to grab the rose from her throat.

Pulling back, she screamed in alarm, her own hand flashing up to protect her talisman. They grappled, both of them fumbling desperately to get a solid grip on the rose at her throat, the throne crashing over to its side as they struggled. Everyone in the hall lurched to their feet, appalled and enraged at this insult to the object of their rapture. "Seize him!" she screamed out, kicking at him, trying to pull away to scramble into safety behind the toppled throne.

"Dammit!" Iolaus muttered. He'd almost had it. Scrambling after her, grabbing one arm to draw her closer, he cursed again at the cloak which was getting in his way, restricting the ease of his movement as he lunged after her. He felt a strong hand grab him by the back of the neck and lift him away from the priestess.

"You have offended the Lady and transgressed her welcome," Hercules said, his voice familiar, yet oddly remote, bereft of emotion, as he dangled Iolaus, like a kitten, by the neck. Iolaus struggled, reached back to grab Herc's wrist, roaring, "PUT ME DOWN!" but Herc just turned and headed for the door, walking around the gathered assembly of villagers. Iolaus rolled his eyes to the Temple ceiling, holding his hands up in a supplicating gesture, "'Dite, can't you DO something!" and then just flapped them in irritated helplessness when there was no response. Goddesses. Never around when you need them.

"Hercules" Iolaus implored, "Please put me down, you're stretching my neck! I'll be taller than you, and you won't like looking up to me. You're going to hate yourself for this in the morning, you know. I'm never going to let you forget losing your mind, falling for some chit of a girl, just 'cause she wanted you to. 'Course, I may not go into every detail about this HUMILIATING display of helpless, because you'd only laugh. But, it's not funny, trust me. Now, if you would just stop a minute and listen, I know you can beat this. You're semidivine, for Zeus' sake, and you should be able to WAKE UP! Dammit, Herc, I'm getting tired of this, you know. There's a warlord out there we're supposed to save these people from, and here you are mooning around like some lovesick calf...and they're all going to die because you won't LISTEN TO ME!"

Without any sign that he was taking the least bit of notice of Iolaus' words, or that he was in fact listening at all, the demigod marched the intruder through the Temple. Although he was unaware of the strength he was using, there was no malice or anger in his manner. He was simply carrying out 'his Lady's' will.

As they got closer to the Temple doors, Iolaus' heart sank. It hadn't worked. Nothing had worked. He hadn't been able to catch hold of what remained of the rose, and Iolaus knew he was unlikely to get close to her again. She'd be watching for him and would have him thrown out before he got within twenty feet. And, he couldn't seem to get through to Hercules, not at all. Gods, what was he going to do?

In his right hand, Iolaus felt the the soft satin of the single rose petal he'd managed to pull away from Cleandra in the struggle for the flower. As his fingers played with the petal, he wondered if he couldn't get the the whole rose, maybe he could at least break the spell on Hercules. Between the two of them, it would a piece of cake to get the damned rosebud away from the kid. Herc could fake the supplicant act to get close enough to take it off her. Easy.

Biting his lip, he thought again about what Aphrodite had told him as he dangled from Herc's hand. He could reverse the spell, and make Herc hate him, instead of love the priestess. Risky. 'Dite had said the spell carried an irresistable desire to kill. His current helpless predictament was a testament to the strength in those hands. But, there was no way Herc would ever actually kill him, although, he thought ruefully, he might get an interesting collection of bruises before Herc finally woke up and realized what he was doing.

Dammit, he had to break the spell's hold, not just reverse it.

What else had 'Dite said? That the spell could only be broken by an overwhelming, life-shattering emotional experience? He sighed. Well, trying to kill him would almost certainly create that kind of emotion in Herc. But, there was no way, no way on this earth that Herc could go through with it, no way he would really kill him, anymore than he could ever kill Hercules. Even when he couldn't remember anything about his life, or who Herc was, he hadn't been able to kill him that time outside of Nemea. Nah, he might get beat up, but it was worth it to break Herc out of this spell, and get his help in saving these villagers.

Herc had pushed open the double doors and was carrying him down the steps. Gods, he didn't want to do this to Herc. His buddy would feel really bad about the bruises Iolaus could be sporting by the time it was all over. And, if, well, if Herc never did recognize him, or not until it was too late, he knew Hercules would never forgive either one of them for putting him in the position of actually killing his best friend.

But, Iolaus trusted Hercules, trusted him not to take it that far. Trusted him enough to risk putting his life in Herc's hands, notwithstanding the spell that blinded him, robbed him of all reason and memory. Deep down, Hercules wasn't a killer. Iolaus knew that. And, he knew Herc would rather die than hurt him.

And, if he was wrong? Well, if Herc didn't wake up until it was over, then Iolaus knew damned well the shock of killing him would break the spell. Once the spell was broken, 'Dite could get Herc to get the rose and save the villagers.

But, he wasn't wrong. He trusted Hercules enough to give his life to him, knowing Herc wouldn't, couldn't kill him. Besides, as Hercules loosened his grip and dropped him unceremoniously on the ground, Iolaus knew he was out of time. There wasn't any other choice.

Gods, he hoped for both of their sakes, that he wasn't about to make a terrible mistake.

Scrambling to his feet, he twisted around to face his friend, heartsick at the emptiness in those familiar eyes, at the lack of even the slightest sign of recognition or awareness. Once more, a last time, he pleaded, one hand reaching out to grip Herc's arm, as the demigod, having done his duty in removing the transgressor from the Temple, was turning to go back to his place at Cleandra's feet, "Herc! Listen to me! Please!"

Time was passing too quickly, and the sun had already begun to sink toward the west. There weren't more than another two hours of full daylight left in this mountainous region. Fingering the rose petal, he knew he only had enough time left for one last, desperate gamble. He couldn't just let Herc go back into that temple, to gaze soulfully at that kid until his life slipped away. Nor could he let the villagers die without doing everything he could to save them.

Licking his lips, he gripped Herc's arm. "Hercules, I'm sorry," he said, his voice regretful, but determined. "I have to get you away from here. I have to do this." As the demigod began to turn away from him, Iolaus crushed the petal between his fingers, saying quietly, 'You love me not'."

Iolaus saw the sudden hate and rage flare in the demigod's eyes, and then the hunter was running for his life, throwing off the cape as he scrambled around the corner of the Temple, heading down the road toward the forest beyond. He heard the roar of anger from behind, and knew Hercules had given chase.

Iolaus poured on the speed, reminding himself that he was faster than Herc on the short distances. Swerving from the hardpacked dirt of the road onto the narrow, overgrown forest path, he jumped over branches and low shrubs, as he raced through the early twilight of the forest's shadows.

Completely enraged, Hercules could see the object of his hate escaping him, pulling away as he pelted through the forest. Unwilling to lose his quarry, the demigod caught up a sizeable rock and heaved it after the fleeing figure, catching Iolaus hard on the back. The hunter stumbled and pitched forward onto his knees with a cry of pain, thinking that maybe this hadn't been such a great idea. But, he pushed himself up, scrambling for his feet, as he staggered then found his pace, again racing ahead of the demigod, who had shortened the distance between them substantially.

"I'll kill you!" roared the maddened hero as he charged after Iolaus, lunging down the path with a ground-eating stride.

Breathlessly, Iolaus cried out, "'Dite!" as he ran, hoping she'd hear him and somehow be able to intervene. Where in Tarturus was she and why wasn't she paying attention? 'Goddesses!' he thought in disgust, his breath heaving in his chest.

Hercules tore a medium sized tree from the earth as he raced by. Iolaus' felt a deep, agonizing burn of pain radiating from his back, just left of his spine. He wondered what kind of damage the rock had done, but he had no time to worry about it. Taking a quick glance back, his speed diminished by the effects of the injury, he saw Herc gaining on him. Whipping his head around, he lowered it, pumping his arms to give him more thrust, digging his boots into the soft ground to launch himself forward.

They must've run half a mile by that point.

Drawing closer, Hercules swept out the tree as if it were no more than a mere branch, it's leafy twigs catching Iolaus' feet and tripping him, twisting his knee. However, he held his balance, and kept on his feet, running as best he could with a limp, his knee now sore and weak, the pain in his back turning to sharp bursts of agony. The stumble had cost him more precious ground.

Hercules flipped the tree trunk in his hand like a baton, and swung it to the side, then back, hard, catching Iolaus and knocking him sideways. Iolaus felt the hard slam of wood into his side and found himself airborne, until he crashed into a tree fifty feet away and dropped to the ground. Stunned, he forced himself to roll, again trying to find his feet, but Hercules had caught up to him, and kicked him brutally in the side, flipping him up and over onto his back.

Hercules fell to the ground, his knees on either side of Iolaus' body, as his hands reached for, and gripped the smaller man's neck, thumbs pressing down on Iolaus' windpipe. Iolaus looked up into those eyes, the eyes of his best friend in the world, and saw hatred. Saw death. Herc still didn't recognize him. Gods, this was turning into the worst idea of his life. If he didn't break out of the spell, not only would Iolaus die, but so would the villagers because Herc would never know, in time, that they needed his help. Iolaus fought his fear back. He had to believe he'd done the right thing, risking everything, pushing right to the edge. Herc wouldn't let him fall off. His buddy would realize in time, would break through the spell's hold.

He knew he could never break Herc's grip, or throw him off his body. Hercules was not guarding his strength, pulling it back, or moderating it. The hands were squeezing with full power, the grip like iron, and Iolaus knew it was only a matter of moments before his neck would be crushed or snapped. Resistance was futile and would only hasten the end because Hercules would increase his aggression in response.

No, not resistance. Trust. Trust that Hercules would stop. Iolaus rested his hands almost lightly on his friend's wrists, his thumbs on the back of Herc's hands, not pulling them back, not fighting, just making contact...trying not to think it might be the last time he would touch his friend. But, it didn't seem to be working, the spell was too strong. Time was passing too fast. He'd be dead before Herc realized what he'd done. Gods, Herc would never forgive himself. The thought of the terrifying, hopeless grief he'd chosen for his partner hurt more than dying.

"Herc!" he choked out with the last of his air, gasping. "Herc, stop!" The only response he got was a growl low in the demigod's throat. Iolaus held his friend's eyes. He couldn't talk anymore, there was no air to push words from his throat. His eyes had to say all that needed to be said, and he desperately hoped Herc would remember when it was over. Burning, furious hate was met with deep and abiding love, desire to kill was met by forgiveness, sorrow and regret.

Dark spots grew in front of Iolaus' eyes, with odd flashes of blinding light shooting between the spots until the blackness grew, and the spots blurred together into a growing inky darkness. His lungs screamed out for air, his chest heaved futilely. He wanted to weep, knowing his action had led Herc to this, knowing Hercules would never forgive himself for killing him and probably would never forgive him, either, for to choosing to risk this outcome, for making Herc do this.

Hercules glared down at the hated enemy below him, rejoicing as he squeezed the life from his foe. But, the lack of resistance, the lack of hate in the eyes that gazed up into his own confused him. An enemy should struggle, and Hercules was prepared for resistance. But there was no resistance, only an aching trust. While his hands held and increased their grip, savoring this moment of the kill, his eyes recognized the love he saw directed toward him, the forgiveness and sorrow.

'Sorry, Herc,' Iolaus thought dimly, with grief and guilt, knowing Hercules would be devastated when he realized what he had done. His hands fell away, no longer having the strength to grip Herc's wrists, and he lay quietly beneath his partner, not struggling, trying to keep the fear from his eyes, wanting Herc to only see, and hopefully remember, the love that was dying with the light within them.

Something seemed to snap in Hercules' head just as Iolaus' hands slipped from his wrists to the ground.

His enemy's eyes had unfocused, the man below him dying, when it hit him with the force of an axe, crashing through the illusion, stripping the blindness from his eyes. No longer seeing an enemy, no longer wildly insane with rage, he saw Iolaus, and his hands around Iolaus' neck, choking him to death.

"NOOOO!" Hercules cried, lurching back, his hands flying up and away. "By the gods! What have I done?" he gasped in confused horror and despair. "Iolaus? Answer me! Iolaus!" he rasped, scrambling off of Iolaus' body as he reached to cradle Iolaus' head while he anxiously watched his buddy drag in great gulps of air.

Hercules didn't understand, couldn't grasp what was happening. His last awareness was of being in conversation with the magistrate in the village square. How did he get here...and why had he been trying to kill Iolaus? He felt sick as he held his best friend, and heard his desperate struggle to breathe.

Iolaus was gasping, heaving, his body desperate for the air that was now blessedly filling his lungs. And, with the air, awareness returned, his eyes focusing so that he could see the anguish and confusion in Hercules' eyes. As he fought to steady his breathing enough to talk, he could feel Herc's hands shaking with horror.

Weakly, he reached up to grab his friend's wrist. "'S okay," he croaked. "'S okay, Herc." His lungs and throat rebelled even at those few words and he gagged, choking on the pain they'd caused as they'd whispered through his raw throat.

Hercules hastily pulled him up, supporting his shoulders, fingers trembling at they delicately touched the dark bruises on his best friend's neck. "I'm sorry!" Herc mumbled over and over, "Gods, I'm sorry! I didn't know...gods, Iolaus, I don't understand."

"Spell," Iolaus rasped, "was a spell. You didn't know, what you were doing." The hunter looked up into eyes filled with shock and fear, blurred by tears. Herc, too, was gasping for breath, terrified by what he'd almost done.

"Spell?" Hercules repeated, like a man stunned by a mortal blow, groping for meaning in a world suddenly gone mad.

Iolaus heaved in another breath, wincing at the pain in his side and back. "'Dite will explain, have to get to her Temple...in the village." Iolaus struggled to pull himself up, but fell back against the arm supporting him, biting off a groan. "The priestess, wearing a rose at her throat. You have to get it to 'Dite's temple, in the woods, before sunset. Lay it on her altar as an offering. If you don't, all the villagers will die," he gasped, desperate to make Hercules understand what must be done.

"You're hurt," Hercules said, still not understanding, unable to take it in, only knowing Iolaus was in pain.

"No time for that, Herc. I'll meet you, at the forest temple. Hundreds'll die! Please, you have to hurry," Iolaus rasped, only too aware that time was fast running out for the villagers. "Go back, to the Temple, get the rose at the priestess' throat. Take it to 'Dite, as an offering," he rasped again, willing Hercules to understand him, to sense the urgency. "Please, Herc...GO!"

All the villagers will die. Gods. Herc looked around desperately, not wanting to leave Iolaus, but knowing he had no choice. "You can make it to her forest temple on your own?" he asked, his voice unsteady, needing the reassurance.

"Yeah, piece of cake. Go on, Herc...you're the only one who can save them," Iolaus whispered. Well, it was only half a lie.

Hercules hesitated a moment more, then accepting that he really had no choice, he gently helped Iolaus to his feet. It took everything Iolaus had to stand as if he was all right, to hide the agony he felt from the brutal blows to his body, but he stood there, pretending confidence and health, as Herc turned, and he continued to stand until Herc was out of sight. Then, slowly, with a moan of pain, he slipped down onto one knee, one hand pressed to his side, the other arm wrapped tightly around his body, pressing up against his chest.

Gods, it hurt. Grimacing wryly, Iolaus thought it was only what he deserved. What kind of idiot willfully set himself up to bear the brunt of a demigod's strength? Ah well, he thought in his own defence, he had been right after all. Herc hadn't been able to kill him, and was now off to save the villagers. He'd broken the spell. The bruises would heal.

Refusing to acknowledge the seriousness of his injuries, taking his time, steadying his breathing, he pushed himself back up, and, one halting step after the other, doubled over with pain, he made his way toward the small temple in the woods.

* * *

Hercules did not understand what had happened. He did not know why the rose was significant, or why the villagers were at risk of death. But, Iolaus had told him he had to do this, and that it was urgent. And that was all he needed to know at this point. The faster he got the damned rose to 'Dite's altar in the woods, the faster he'd be able to make sure Iolaus was all right.

He raced back to the village and tore up the steps to the Temple. The sight inside gave him pause. Two hundred or more people, men, women and children, all doting with mindless adoration upon the young priestess sitting on Aphrodite's throne. The villagers did not seem fully aware of where they were, but their faces were full of awe and love for this girl. Was this what he had been like? Just one more zombie like the rest?

Herc felt his stomach clench, felt the nausea, as fragments of memory assaulted him, shattering images of himself sitting enthralled at the priestess' feet, of dragging Iolaus from the temple. Taking a breath, pushing the bits of memories away, Hercules moved further into the hall. He didn't know if the villagers were even aware of him, but he did not want to risk upsetting or frightening them, nor did he wish to alarm or alert the priestess, so he moved cautiously to the front of the crowd, to stand before her. Avoiding eye contact with her, he gazed instead at the mutilated rose at her throat.

"You've been gone a long time, my friend, I was worried about you? Did the intruder give you trouble?" she asked, gazing at him with a half smile.

Hercules shook his head slightly, hardly able to speak, as the memories of his hands squeezing the life from Iolaus' body filled his mind. "No...no trouble," he finally muttered, taking a step forward, his eyes fixed on the rose at her throat.

"What is it?" she asked, suspicion growing in her gaze. Something had changed, he seemed not the same. Perhaps she needed to crush another petal. Herc saw her hand rise toward her throat and he lunged forward, his speed startling and unexpected. With one strong hand, he stayed the motion of her arm, as with the other, he grabbed the rose at her throat and tore it from the light chain she'd used to secure it.

"No! Stop!" she ordered. "Give that back!" But, he turned away, pushing through the crowd, heading toward the entrance. It seemed such a small, insignificant thing, but this flower had a power which frightened him, a power strong enough to make him turn on Iolaus, to make all of these villagers sit oblivious to everything else in their lives. He only knew he had to get it to Aphrodite, or these people would die.

Still feeling as if nothing was real, that he was caught in some kind of nightmare, Hercules could hear her shrieking behind him, "Stop him! Don't let him leave!"

Not understanding why, but knowing they were compelled to do her bidding, the people in the hall began to crowd toward Hercules, grabbing onto his arms, his leather vest, pushing back against him as he tried to move forward. He could have easily thrown them aside, but he didn't want to hurt them. His heart still raw from the violence he had so recently shown, afraid he might again somehow lose control, he was desperate to do this without harming another soul.

They wouldn't let him through.

"Stand back," he cried. "I'm doing this for you!" But, his words were greeted with, at best, confused glances. Most eyes were unfocused, empty of understanding. "Your children will all die!" he called out. "Don't you understand? You and your children will die if you don't let me go!"

Somehow, those words penetrated some hearts, becoming the emotional catalyst that allowed a shaft of light to illuminate some minds, driving away the fog that had muffled their senses and dulled their reason. "No!" he heard a woman cry, "I don't want my child to die! Help us!"

Those who understood, for whom the threat of their children's deaths pushed their emotions past the boundaries of her control over them, helped Hercules push others back and out of his path. "Don't worry," he consoled those who had helped him, wanting to ease their new terror, "There's time. Aphrodite will make it right." Gods, he hoped that was true.

He raced from the Temple, leaping over the steps to land below, then swiveled, racing around the Temple compound, along the village road and out into the forest, not bothering with the path but cutting straight through the woods to the old temple. As he ran, he glanced up at the sky, noting the sun was sinking down behind the nearby hills. He had to make it. Too many would die if he didn't.

Less than half an hour later, Hercules tore into the dilapidated, uncared-for ancient Temple and skidded to a stop in front of the altar. He slammed what was left of the rose down upon it, shouting, "Aphrodite, I've brought it, the rose. 'Dite! Do you hear me?"

She manifested behind the altar and swept the rose into her hand, relief easing the harsh lines of worry which had etched themselves into her face over the past several hours. "Hercules! I didn't expect you...it doesn't matter! You're just in time! I was so worried. I'll go to the Temple now and cancel the spell Cleandra wove over those people. They'll be fine because of you."

"Not me, 'Dite. Iolaus got me out of there, and told me what had to be done." He looked around the dim interior, realizing he had not seen Iolaus as he had raced up, nor was he here, inside. "Where's Iolaus?" he asked his sister, his voice tight with worry.

'Dite shrugged, "Sorry, bro, I haven't seen him since this morning. Look, I've got to get to the Temple! Later!" and she disappeared.

Hercules turned in a circle, his eyes raking the shadows, but his buddy wasn't there. He headed back outside, scanning the path and the wooded area nearby, but he didn't see Iolaus anywhere. His throat tight with dread, he took a couple of steps in the direction where he'd last seen Iolaus, standing near the old path, and then he was running.

* * *

Iolaus had tried to make it to the ancient temple, but the damage to his body created sharp stabs of agony with each breath, each step, leaving him dizzy and increasingly disoriented. He held his hand tight against his side, doubled over as he stumbled along the path, collapsing to his knees whenever a coughing jag robbed him of the little breath he had.

He'd made it about a quarter of a mile, when he again stumbled and fell, his body feeling like it was being torn in half, ripping apart from the inside. One hand bracing himself forward on the ground, the other trying to support his injured side, he coughed, each deep, rasping bark doing violence to the unseen injuries within his brutalized body, knifing through him, until he gagged and wretched, blood spilling from his mouth.

Dizziness overcame him, and he fell forward, moaning. Panting, he tried to get his breath, tried to calm the pounding of his heart. No longer able to pretend he wasn't badly hurt, Iolaus knew he had to get to the temple, had to get help. If he didn't, he might very well die. Hercules would never get over it, would never understand it wasn't his fault.

Knowing he had to live, as much for his friend as for himself, Iolaus pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, crawling another fifty feet, before even that effort exceeded his failing strength. Lurching forward, he collapsed, unconscious, in the shadows of the gathering dusk.

* * *

Herc crashed through the brush, ducking a low-hanging branch, then skidded to a halt, devastated by the sight of his best friend lying sprawled face down on the ground thirty feet away. "Iolaus!" he cried out in dismay, and fear. Hercules rapidly closed the distance between them, and knelt beside the too still figure. Carefully, he eased Iolaus over, one arm supporting his friend's head and shoulders, while the other checked for a pulse. He thought he might keel over in relief when he found it. Too rapid, too shallow. But there.

It was then that he noticed the blood seeping from the corner of Iolaus' mouth, and looking down past his friend, he could see the reddish, brown pool of liquid on the ground where Iolaus had been lying. He was bleeding badly from internal injuries, his breath bubbling from his lips. Hercules was rocked by more memories, like scattered pieces of a puzzle jumbled in his mind, images of slamming Iolaus into the air with the trunk of a tree, of Iolaus flying through the air, crashing into a tree...and of kicking his partner viciously in the side that had already been injured by the sideswipe of the tree. He moaned in despair, realizing now that he had done more than just try to strangle his best friend to death. Gods, what had he done? Why had he turned on Iolaus? How badly was he hurt?

"Iolaus? Can you hear me?" he choked past his guilt and despair, brushing his friend's hair back from his face.

Iolaus' eyelids flickered, and then he blinked, trying to focus, trying to remember. But, the pain swamped him, driving away any other reality. He bit his lip, but could not quite suppress the groan as he convulsed with the agony that coursed through him. Dimly, he felt Herc's arm tighten around him, heard his friend say as if from a great distance, "I'm taking you to the 'Dite's temple. She'll help you. Hang on, buddy. Just hang on!"

Hercules gathered Iolaus up into his arms and rose to his feet, turning to race back to the old temple. It was closer than the village, and he knew Iolaus needed help urgently. Iolaus had cried out sharply at the pain when Herc lifted him, but then lost all awareness.

* * *

Hercules tore into the ancient temple, then slowed to ease Iolaus down onto the altar. But, as soon as Iolaus was flat on his back, he began to choke and cough, the air whistling in his lungs. Herc hastily wrapped an arm around his shoulders, raising his head and upper body to ease his buddy's gasping breaths.

"'DITE!!!" Hercules shouted into the air, close to panic. "'DITE!!! Help me!"

She appeared before him, grinning at her recent success at having stopped Cleandra's inadvertent curse in the nick of time, but the grin faded when she saw Herc's face, the terror in his eyes, and her eyes dropped to behold Iolaus sprawled on her altar, fighting for every breath.

"What happened?" she asked, alarmed and dismayed.

"'Dite, I think he's dying. You have to help him!" Hercules snapped sharply, too worried for courtesy.

Wide eyes looked up into his, "But, you know I haven't the power to heal," she whispered.

"Don't tell me that!" he raged. "You're a Goddess, dammit." Hercules still didn't know what exactly had happened, but he knew that somehow 'Dite had enlisted Iolaus to help her retrieve the rose...and that meant whatever had been going on was her responsibility.

"Hercules, I'm sorry. I never wanted him to be hurt. We were trying to save you, and the others..." she tried to explain.

"I don't care about that! I don't care about why! It doesn't matter right now. If you don't help, I'm going to lose him." He was desperate. Gods, she had to do something!

Aphrodite looked from Herc's desperate gaze down to Iolaus, and she picked up one of his cold, limp hands, holding it between hers, trying to sense the extent of his injuries. She shook her head, feeling helpless. She placed a hand over his heart, and bent to lightly kiss his forehead, causing a soft warm glow to emanate from him for a brief moment before it dissipated as if it had never been. His breathing eased marginally for a few moments longer.

Herc was watching her every move. When she stood up, and stepped back, letting Iolaus' hand fall, he said in disbelief, "That's it? That's all you're going to do?"

"It's all I can do!" she wailed, throwing up her hands. "Hercules, listen to me, I don't have the power to heal. A god did not cause his injuries. If they had, that benediction would have made more of a difference. I don't know who did this to him...."

She saw Hercules look away sharply, his eyes haunted, his throat working convulsively. And, she suddenly understood. "Oh no," she breathed. "Iolaus reversed the spell...."

Herc's eyes swung back to hers, a desperate grief clogging his voice, "I don't know what he did or didn't do. I just know that I was choking him to death when I suddenly realized what I was doing. I think I knocked him flying with a tree, kicked him..." Herc's voice cracked, and he shuddered. "I did this."

"Oh, Hercules," she murmured, moving around the altar to rest a hand upon his arm. He looked down and away, unable to meet her eyes. "You didn't know what you were doing. You couldn't help yourself. Iolaus knew that, he knew what would happen...."

"But, how? Why?" Herc choked out, looking down at the broken body of his best friend.

"To save you," she murmured. "To get you out from under her spell."

"Spell," he spit out with disgust, then the fight went out of him as he whispered, "I can't let him die...."

"Maybe, if you take him back to the village, someone can help," she offered, doubtfully.

He looked at her for a long moment, unable to believe she could do nothing more. Iolaus coughed again, blood tingeing his lips as he moaned softly. It jerked Hercules from his numb disorientation, and he bent to gather Iolaus into his arms, but as he began to lift his friend, Iolaus stiffened and cried out in pain, pain which jerked him back to semiconsciousness. "Don't!" he moaned. "Hurts...."

Hercules eased his friend back down, and with his free hand, he brushed Iolaus' hair back from his sweat-beaded forehead. "Iolaus, I have to get you to help," he said anxiously.

"No," Iolaus breathed, "Please, just...let me be."

Aphrodite shook her head. "I don't think you should move him...it just seems to make things worse."

Herc's head jerked up and around, his eyes flashing with anger, "Then, help him, damn it! Don't just stand there and watch him die."

Aphrodite looked into his eyes, and knew she had to do something. It was too far to go for Aesclepius, and in his current mortal form, the physician could not be transported here. They were on their own. She half turned and waved her hand. The light of a thousand candles transformed the temple, and the altar was now decked with a sheet. Pillows and a quilt surrounded Iolaus, a bundle of linen, jugs of water and a mug stood on a shelf nearby. Jars of herbs and honey appeared next to the jugs, and a fire erupted in the cold hearth in the corner, a kettle steaming over it. An amphora of wine was propped against the stone wall nearby.

"Hercules, bind his body, to support his ribs. Bathe him to lower the fever I could feel burning in his body. I'll keep a hand over his heart to give him strength. It can't make him well, but because you are part god, and you did this, my power can help hold him here, at least give him a chance to fight back. But, if the injuries inside cannot heal without a physician's help, we alone cannot save him."

Hercules was terrified this would never be enough. But, there was little else they could do. "Here," he said, his voice defeated, "support his shoulders while I tear the linen into strips to bind him."

* * *

Night had fallen long before. After easing his buddy's vest off, Hercules had examined Iolaus' damaged body, shuddering at the ugly bruises on his buddy's back and side, knowing he had put them there. As he worked, he realized ribs had been broken, and he manipulated them back into place, causing Iolaus to arc in pain. But, Herc continued his grim task, and then bound the linen tightly. He raised Iolaus' shoulders to allow 'Dite to place heaps of pillows behind him, to keep his body raised enough to help him breathe. Then, he loosened Iolaus' belt, unhitched the scabbard and pulled off his boots. While he'd worked on Iolaus, 'Dite had explained what happened, or at least part of it.

"He knew, Hercules, that reversing the spell would create an irresistible urge to kill. I don't know why he decided that was necessary, but he must have thought it was the only choice he had..." she explained as she finished her story of the rose and its powers.

Hercules jaw had tensed as he listened, hearing what 'Dite wasn't saying...that she had carelessly left the rose to be picked up and its use perverted, that she had involved Iolaus in a situation which had led them to this. He'd also begun to understand that Iolaus had chosen this, chosen to put him in the position of brutalizing, of almost killing, his best friend. He couldn't take it in. How could Iolaus have done such a thing?

Turning aside, he went to pour water from the kettle into the mug, while she watched him, compassion warring with sorrow for dominance in her gaze. She knew how much it was tormenting Hercules to know that he had unleashed the full power of his strength against the one person who mattered most to him in this world.

She held a hand pressed to his buddy's heart, while Hercules mixed herbs with boiling water, then he turned back to support Iolaus' head to help him to drink the tea, but Iolaus wasn't responding.

"C'mon, buddy, please, you have to try. It'll help the pain and slow the bleeding," Hercules encouraged, a tight note of desperation in his voice.

Iolaus blinked and sighed. He'd heard them, felt them work on his body, but it was as if he was somewhere else, floating, not wanting to be there, not wanting to acknowledge the pain. But, Herc's voice and the emotion in it, drew him back. Struggling toward full consciousness, he groped with one hand, and found Herc's arm. Opening his eyes, he saw the mug and understood, his lips parting to sip the liquid. After a few swallows, he turned his head away, unable to tolerate more. Hercules eased his head back down upon the pillows behind him.

Iolaus' eyes skittered around the ancient sanctuary, and he realized 'Dite was still with them, that she was resting her hand on his chest. Confused, his eyes sought Herc's and Iolaus flinched at the pain he saw there.

Seeing the confusion, Hercules explained softly, "You've been bleeding inside, Iolaus. We wanted to take you back to the village for help, but it hurt you too badly to be moved. So, 'Dite and I are going to take care of you here. She can give you some strength, but she can't heal you. You have to do that, buddy. You have to fight back, not give in. You understand?"

Iolaus nodded weakly, wincing at the sharp daggers of pain which still tormented him with each breath. "Herc," he whispered, wanting to ease the haunted look in his friend's eyes. "My fault."

Hercules looked away, shaking his head, unable to speak as the fragmented images of what he had done flashed behind his eyes.

Iolaus squeezed the hand Herc was holding, to draw his buddy's eyes back. "My decision," he murmured again, desperate to make Hercules understand. "Knew what," he gasped, "I was doing."

When Herc's eyes swung back to his, they glittered in the candlelight, tears brimming on his lashes. "Oh, Iolaus," he sighed, then swallowed when his voice broke. "I...you...why?" he stammered.

"You...villagers...would have died. I couldn't get...the rose away. Only got one petal," Iolaus struggled to explain. "No other way to break...her spell." He paused a moment, to gather breath and strength, "I knew you wouldn't kill me...would stop yourself....Trusted you...was right...you couldn't...." His voice faded. He was losing his struggle to remain conscious. To explain.

Herc's lips trembled, and he blinked to clear his vision, his face contorted with grief, and the first pangs of a greater guilt, as he thought, 'So, to save my life, you put your life in my hands, trusting me not to...oh gods, Iolaus. What have I done?'

"Tired, Herc," Iolaus muttered, as his eyelids drooped closed, the pain-numbing herbs beginning to take effect.

Hercules held tightly to his friend's hand. "If you die, I'll never forgive myself," he whispered softly, shattered by the realization that Iolaus had trusted him to safeguard his life...had never believed Hercules would ever beat him to death...and now might die for that trust.

He thought Iolaus was unconscious, that his friend would never have heard his words.

But, he was wrong.

* * *

Elliara pushed back the flap of the tent and walked into the night made bright by the campfires. Tarsus followed her and grasped her arm, gently, turning her back to face him. "Don't go," he whispered hoarsely, unable to face her absence.

She reached up and lightly traced a finger along the side of his face, a soft smile on her lips and in her eyes. "I must. I have my duties, and you have yours. You know what you must do."

Sorrowfully, he nodded. "Yes, I will send them away. But, I will follow you. I cannot live without you."

"Then I will see you again," she replied. She kissed him once, and quickly turned away, walking through the ranks of mystified warriors, into the night, despising herself for what she had done.

It was only when she returned to the Temple more than an hour later, that she heard what had happened from the others, and went to Cleandra's cell. The young woman was huddled in a dark corner, crying and terribly afraid of what her punishment might be. Aphrodite had not spared her wrath, shaming her and forcing her to see what she'd almost done. Cleandra was not evil, just a lost child. She'd never wanted to hurt anyone. She had only wanted to be loved. And now, everyone despised her.

Elliara studied her for a long moment with compassion filled eyes. Yes, the child had acted badly, and yes, it might have been terribly tragic. But, the child had not understood, and in her way, she was innocent. Certainly, she was in great pain. Crossing the narrow, darkened room, Elliara picked up the piece of flint on the tiny table by the cot and struck a flame. The girl in the corner flinched at the sudden brightness that tore away her cloak of darkness, and huddled further into the wall.

The high priestess turned and crouched by the young woman, putting a gentle but firm arm around her shoulders, and drew the bowed head to her breast. "Hush," she whispered, "enough tears have been shed."

The girl tried to control her sobs, sniffing and hiccuping, as she threw desperate arms around Elliara. "Do you understand that what you did was wrong?" Elliara asked calmly.

"Oh, yes!" wailed the girl. "I'm sorry, so sorry!"

Elliara stroked her hair, then tilted the young, tear-streaked face up into the light, so that she could gaze into those troubled, haunted eyes. "Then, you have learned something today. True love is not something you can take, or command."

Elliara paused for a moment, caught by her memories of her own activities that day. Her motives might have been to avert killing and the terrorizing of people by the warlord, but she too had used subterfuge that day, had perverted the experience of love for her own ends.

Shaking off her own disquiet, she refocused her attention on the shivering adolescent. "Love, to be real, must be given freely, with joy. You must give it before you can have it returned to you, and you must give it with no expectation, and no regret. Every mortal needs and wants to be loved, child, just as we want and need food or shelter. But, even as we must first plant and harvest, or build and thatch, before we can eat or sleep out of the rain, so too must we plant kindness, compassion and friendship and build relationships of trust and honesty, before we can receive love from others. Be at peace, now, and sleep. Tomorrow, we will begin again, and you will learn how to give love so that someday you will know its return."

Drawing the young woman up, Elliara supported her to the cot and settled her upon it. She drew the blanket up around the young woman's shoulders, bent to kiss her brow, then blew out the candle. "You are safe here, child, always. In the House of Aphrodite, we understand all of the faces of love, and we will teach you how to give it, and how to receive it, with a light heart."

Elliara then went into the sanctuary and knelt before Aphrodite's altar, praying for guidance to heal the pain Cleandra's actions had caused. When she rose, she did not understand why, but she knew she had to go to the ancient temple in the wood.

* * *

It was a long, dreary night, filled with pain and fear, grief and guilt. Hercules had to frequently pull Iolaus up, resting his friend against his broad chest, Iolaus' head against his shoulder, while his own cheek rested against his buddy's hair, to relieve the pressure on Iolaus' lungs and to help him breathe. 'Dite stood by the hunter's side, her hand resting on his chest, or on his back when Herc held Iolaus in an upright position. The hunter drifted in and out of consciousness, taking the herbal tea and a broth 'Dite had conjured from the air, in small sips, a little at a time, then he'd slip away again, never having spoken. His face was waxen, dark shadows under his eyes, and much as he tried to hold in the pain, he was unable to suffer completely in silence. When he was lucid enough to see the anguish in Herc's eyes, he'd reach out to grip his friend's arm, whispering, "Don't Herc...not your fault," before he'd drift off again.

In those hours, Iolaus floated in a world of confusion and pain, his mind going back over the events, running in endless, unsatisfying circles. Could he have acted differently? Had there been another option? Was his choice unreasonable, unfair to Herc. He tried to think of what else he could have done, and still have saved Herc's life, and through him, the lives of the villagers. Had he made a mistake somewhere? Maybe, when he'd failed to get the rose on the second try. But, having failed, should he have just given up? No. His mind always came back to that. No. He couldn't have just let Herc and the villagers all die. And, he'd been right. Herc hadn't killed him. Once he'd broken out of the spell, Herc'd done everything he could to safeguard his life, to help him survive. And, he'd saved the villagers.

Damn, this wasn't working out the way it was supposed to. He'd failed to factor Herc's strength into the equation. He knew his buddy would never have been able to deliberately kill him, but he'd forgotten that he was risking more than a few bruises. Gods, all Herc had done was throw a rock, knock him over with a tree and kick him once. They were just simple delaying tactics, intended to slow him down, not demolish him, he knew that. Gods, he hated being so fragile, and too stupid not to have realized the restraint Herc exercised in every day life, even in battle, would be erased by the damned spell. If he'd have thought about it a little more at the time, he'd have had enough sense to get a little further away before he'd reversed the spell. This was his fault, not Herc's.

As he drifted in and out, Iolaus was aware of Hercules hovering nearby, silently watching and doing what he could to ease his friend's pain and fever, bathing him with cool water, pulling him forward when he was unable to breathe, wiping the traces of blood from his lips. He knew, too, that 'Dite kept her vigil and marveled at the Goddess' devotion, maintaining a constant touch with his body. He was beyond grateful for the help they were giving him.

From time to time, in the early hours of the evening, he'd heard 'Dite try to reason with her brother, to help him understand why Iolaus had apparently risked his own life to break the spell by arousing in him an over-riding, overwhelming emotion, so that not only Hercules would be saved, but the villagers as well, but Hercules was not interested, and would only answer with a grunt or sigh, when he responded at all.

'Dammit,' Iolaus thought, when he was lucid at all, and even when he wasn't the driving determination was still an instinctive force within his body, 'I have to get better. I can't let this beat me. I can't do this to Herc.' He knew he had to fight the pain, and the feeling that he was drowning. He couldn't give in and just let go. If he did, he knew Herc really wouldn't ever forgive himself...he couldn't die with that on his conscience. He just couldn't. Iolaus pushed his guilt away for having gotten them into this mess, and concentrated on breathing.

But, gods, he was tired.

* * *

Hercules could not get the images out of his mind. His hands around Iolaus' throat. Nightmare fragments of brutal actions, and memories of unreasoning hatred and fury. He clenched his fists unconsciously, wishing he could will back those moments, turn back time. Gods, how could he live with it, if Iolaus died? It didn't matter that he hadn't been aware of his actions. They were here in the first place because Herc had decided to act against the warlord, Tarsus, and, as usual, Iolaus had come along to help. This horror had happened because Hercules had not had the strength to resist the pull of the spell cast by the young priestess in the market square, nor had he had the strength to pull out of it when Iolaus had first come for him.

Worst of all, he hadn't been able to resist the surge of hatred, the all consuming desire to kill his friend. What good was being semidivine, of having more strength than any other being, if it could be turned against the one person who meant the most to him, the one person who had never let him down?

How could Iolaus have done this? Put himself at such risk? Put Herc in the position of trying to kill him? Didn't he understand that Hercules would rather have died than have to live with this? He was angry, and even the anger made him feel guilty. What right did he have to be angry when his friend's life was at risk for having saved his, and in saving Hercules, had allowed all those villagers to be saved as well?

And, he knew the anger was only a shield against his horror of having failed the trust Iolaus had placed in him, for having failed to take better care of that life than he ever would of his own.

Iolaus had done what he had because he had believed Hercules could never kill in anger, most particularly, that he would never be able hurt Iolaus so badly he might never recover. He could imagine his friend's reasoning, and knew Iolaus had expected a few bruises, maybe, but nothing like this. But, he'd been wrong, and Hercules was devastated by the injuries his strength had caused. How could he have turned on anyone like that, let alone Iolaus? He found himself staring at his hands, hating them, hating himself for his lack of control, hating what he was capable of doing to another person.

But, worse, much worse, was the knowledge that Iolaus had trusted him with his life, and he'd failed that trust. Oh, 'Dite had tried to make him understand that it was the awareness of what he was doing that had finally broken the spell, and even Iolaus, weak and hurting as he was, had tried to let him know that he'd lived up to Iolaus' belief in him, his belief that Hercules couldn't, wouldn't, kill him. Hercules knew what they were trying to tell him, knew they had exonerated him from any blame about this. But, he couldn't accept it, couldn't forgive himself. Iolaus had trusted his best friend with his life, and now he was dying.

'Everything Iolaus was, everything we have ever done together, ever been, ever meant to each other had been entrusted by Iolaus to these hands,' Herc thought, flexing his fists. 'And, if I lose all of that, if I lose him, I'll have no one else to blame.' The pain of his betrayal of that trust was tearing him apart. The fear that he himself had inflicted mortal injuries on the one he held most dear was more than he could bear.

Iolaus might be dying, but Hercules could not offer him comfort or peace, consumed as he was by guilt, and he hated himself for that, too. Gods, this was no way to end it, if it was indeed ending, if Iolaus was never to recover. They'd been friends all their lives...if Iolaus faded away, without a word of thanks, or farewell....

Hercules turned aside and slammed a fist into the wall. It didn't make him feel any better, only made him feel worse. The hole in the wall was just one more mute reminder of the power he had turned against his best friend.

Exhausted by worry and guilt, by grief and self-hatred, Herc had slumped down beside the altar, resting his back upon it, his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. It had seemed hours since Iolaus had last been even semiconscious. His breathing was worsening, the sound of the air bubbling in his lungs. At one point earlier, Herc had helped him when he'd needed to urinate, and had seen the blood there, too. More fractured memories rose in his mind, of throwing a heavy rock, of it hitting Iolaus' back, driving him to his knees. Gods, a kidney must have been badly damaged by the rock he had thrown.

Pushing his hands through his hair, he found himself grateful that Iolaus was unconscious. At least, then, he didn't seem to feel the pain. It was a small blessing at best.

Hercules pressed his eyes shut, wanting to shut out the memories. But the images just danced in his mind, tormenting him with a reality he could not remember clearly, making him wish that he could let himself drift into mindless sleep, but he couldn't risk having Iolaus slip away while he sought respite in the realm of Morpheus.

He heard 'Dite give a slight exclamation, and looked up to see Thanatos standing before him, gazing down upon Iolaus. Hercules thrust one palm down on the stone floor beside him, and pushed himself to his feet in a furious, fear filled motion. He stood between Thanatos and his friend, his arms spread wide as if he could somehow hold death at bay.

"Go away, Thanatos," Herc growled. "You can't have him."

Thanatos flicked a silent look at Hercules, but turned his gaze back to Iolaus, watching the injured man's face. Herc couldn't see, but 'Dite could, that Iolaus had returned to a semblance of consciousness and had seen Thanatos standing there, had heard Herc's words. Turning his head away from the bearer of death, his lips silently formed the word, 'no', and he gripped 'Dite's hand as hard as his strength would allow. He wasn't going. And that was that.

He was holding onto Love for dear life. And, it was only the strength of that love in his heart that kept him alive.

'Dite's eyes filled with tears. She knew Thanatos would not have come unless life had become too much a trial, too painful...if Iolaus had not been in need of this final relief. But, he was rejecting it, so long as he could, with his will alone. And, 'Dite understood why. Iolaus would give his soul before he'd leave Herc this way, with this hurt and guilt still between them.

Thanatos silently, sadly, shook his head, and faded from sight. It wasn't the first time he'd seen the power of love and commitment, the determination of friends to not abandon one another, the strength of spirit to resist what seemed only inevitable, to endure intolerable pain and sorrow. He respected it, but he'd never understood it, and he had always wondered at the cost.

When Thanatos disappeared, Hercules whirled in horrified fear, certain that Hades' messenger had taken Iolaus' soul with him. But 'Dite shook her head, reassuring him, "He's still here," she whispered.

Iolaus turned his eyes to Hercules, as his hand groped for his friend's. When Herc captured Iolaus' hand with his own, his buddy whispered painfully, "I won't go..." and then he drifted off again, before Herc could answer.

Tears filled Herc's eyes, one tipping over his lashes to roll down his cheek. Iolaus hadn't given up. He never gave up, no matter what the cost. It was that indomitable spirit, that courage, which had led Iolaus to his choice earlier that day. The choice which had saved Hercules' life, and the lives of all those who lived in Moritika.

Squeezing his friend's hand, brushing the sweat dampened hair back from Iolaus' face, Hercules murmured, "I'm sorry." But, whether he was sorry for the injuries he'd caused, or the trust he felt he'd betrayed, 'Dite didn't know.

* * *

As she found her way through the dark, dense wood, Elliara marveled at the light she saw streaming from the old temple nestled in the trees. Drawing her cloak more tightly around her shoulders, she walked resolutely toward the light, wondering what she would find, why the Goddess had drawn her here.

When she entered, she paused a moment in the doorway, silently taking in the scene of a sorely injured man on the altar, the Goddess standing with her hand pressed down upon the man's chest and Hercules standing rigidly, looking down upon the man, with lines of haunting sorrow etched in his face. Hercules? She looked again at the other man, and realized it was Iolaus.

A frown of worry appeared on her forehead, and she bit her lip unconsciously. She'd met both men years before, and had come to care for them. Without ever needing to be told, she knew how devastating it would be for Hercules if he ever lost Iolaus. She had seen the bond between them, and for all the semidivinity and strength of the taller man, she had seen his reliance on the steadfast friendship of the mortal who always stood by his side.

And, Hercules would not be the only one to mourn the loss of the man she remembered so well for his laughter, his compassion and his courage.

She'd scarcely ever admitted it to herself, and no one, with the possible exception of Aphrodite, would have ever guessed, but she had come to love the blond warrior. Hopelessly, without expectation, but helplessly, she loved him from the depths of her soul.

Lifting her head, clearing all worry from her face and eyes, knowing the Goddess had drawn her here for some purpose, she stepped forward and said, "My Lady, how may I help?"

* * *

Together, they kept their vigil through the hours of the night. Elliara went to the spring behind the old temple and brought back cool water, which she and Hercules used to bathe the fevered warrior. She mixed a sweeter potion, with the wine, and with honey, tempering the bitter herbs, so that Iolaus was able to take more of it, and it eased his pain. He recognized her, wondering at how she had come to be there, feeling a sense of peace in her presence. As he relaxed, his breathing also seemed to ease, and she laid a cool hand on his forehead, bringing a calm serenity and quiet strength which soothed him, allowing him to slip into a more natural sleep.

Their ministrations done for the moment, she looked up at Hercules, wondering at the mingled emotions she read in his eyes, and in the rigid way he held his body. Turning to Aphrodite, her eyes seeking guidance, she saw the Goddess look from her to Hercules and then to the door. The message could not have been more clear. 'Take him out of here, ease his pain.'

Not really understanding why the Goddess wanted her to do this, but accepting the guidance, Elliara went to stand beside Hercules, and placed a hand on his arm, drawing his eyes. "Come outside, Hercules, for a breath of air. He's sleeping and we can take a moment away."

Hercules looked from her back down to Iolaus. Gods, he was so tired, but he couldn't let himself sleep. Still, perhaps a little air would help clear the web of exhaustion and confused emotion from his mind. Nodding, he turned to follow Elliara out into the soft light of the dawn.

She led him to a fallen log, and pushed him gently down upon it, then sat beside him. Unbidden, she took one of his hands between her own, and looked up into his face. "Tell me, Hercules, what happened."

The demigod swallowed convulsively and looked away, his body tense. He tried to pull his hand away, but she wouldn't let it go. "I can tell you are suffering, my friend, and I would like to help, if I can," she encouraged.

He shook his head a little, at that. "You can't help," he rasped, as if his throat was tight and raw.

"Then, I can at least listen. Please, Hercules, tell me what happened to Iolaus," she said quietly, unwilling to accept his reluctance to speak.

Shoulders hunched, his head lowered, and his eyes on the ground, he replied quietly, "I was caught in the spell cast by Aphrodite's rose. Iolaus tried to get the rose away from the priestess, but failed." He looked up into the branches overhead, biting his lip. "He wanted to save me, save the villagers, but time was running out. He'd only gotten one petal away from her." He paused, sighed, and then continued, "'Dite had told him he could reverse the spell, so he did, to break me out of my enthrallment with her, to break the spell completely, but…it made me want to kill him."

Hercules stopped, his voice cracking. He passed his free hand over his eyes, then turned to look at her. "I only remember bits and pieces, but I know I chased him, threw a rock at him, hit him with a tree and kicked him...savagely. Then, I tried to," his voice broke again as he looked away and down at his hands, "I tried to strangle him."

Softly, into the silence, he murmured, "I did this to Iolaus."

Her eyes narrowed as she listened, hearing his pain, picturing what had happened. Her eyes filled with compassion, she reached up to turn his face to hers. "Something must have stopped you, when you tried to kill him. Something wouldn't let you...what was it?"

Again, he shook his head, not wanting to remember those terrible moments when he'd looked into a hated enemy's dimming eyes, and recognized his friend. "I don't know," he finally muttered, his voice little more than a whisper. "All of a sudden, I just seemed to wake up, and saw what I was doing."

Aphrodite had explained the power of the rose to her when she'd given Elliara the petal, had explained the only thing which could break the flower's spell. Overpowering, life-shattering emotion.

"Hercules, you couldn't kill him," she began.

"I did a damned good job of trying!" he growled, cutting her off.

"No, you were under a spell and you chased after someone you thought you hated, not recognizing him. But, when you looked into his face, knew who he was...you stopped yourself. You could never kill Iolaus, Hercules. You love him. It was that love, and the horror at the realization of what you were doing to him, that stopped you, that finally broke the spell."

Almost roughly, Hercules pulled his hand away from hers, and stood abruptly to pace several steps away. He stood there, with his back to her, looking up into the new morning's sky. "This isn't your fault," she said softly.

Hercules didn't respond, just crossed his arms and bowed his head, as if he was trying to hold back a cry of despair. She stood and moved to stand in front of him, but he angled his head away from her. She studied his rigid features for a moment, then said quietly, "There's something else, isn't there, that's eating at you?"

He swallowed and then looked at her, causing her to catch her breath at the anger and pain in his eyes.

"He trusted me with his life," Hercules choked. "Iolaus...Iolaus used the rose petal, and said the words believing I could never hurt him, that I would never kill him. I," he looked again up, searching the sky as if he could find some answers there, some comfort, but frowned when he found none.

Turning his gaze back to her, he said bitterly, "I failed him, don't you see? He trusted me with the most precious thing in my life, no one, nothing means more to me than he does, and I repaid that trust with hate. I used these," he cried, holding his hands up in front of him, "to crush him...he's hurting so badly, he's dying, and I know I did it to him. I betrayed the trust he placed in me...and, if he dies, it will be because I killed him. Oh gods, Elliara, I can't bear knowing that. That I let him down. I can't face knowing I may have destroyed the most important being in my life."

He paused, looked away, whispering hoarsely in self disgust, "Listen to me, 'I can't bear', 'my life'... Iolaus is the best man I've ever known, the bravest, most decent...he deserves better than this. He deserves a friend who would do anything to safeguard his life, not turn on him like some ravaging beast, not someone who gets caught up in self pity when he's the one who's in danger of dying."

The words had come in a rush, full of heartache and helplessness. He wheeled away, going back to the log and sank down upon it, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, and his face in his hands.

When she went back to sit beside him, a hand on his shoulder, she heard his agonized whisper, "How? How could he have trusted me so completely? How could I have done this to him?"

"How?" she whispered back, rubbing his back. "Love, Hercules. Iolaus knows you love him more than anything else in this world, just as he has always loved you. It's your love that stopped you from killing him, and it's your love, and his for you, that's keeping him alive now. He's not dead, Hercules. Don't mourn him before he's gone. And, for the sake of love, for his sake, if he does die, don't let this be all you remember of him, of what your life together has been. Because his soul would know that it was his choice, his action, that brought you such pain. That would hurt him more than death."

He wept then, harsh racking sobs, and she gathered him to her, holding him, while he cried.

* * *

The outburst of grief and pain had stripped away Hercules' emotional reserves and had left him utterly exhausted. Elliara supported him back into the tiny, ancient temple and persuaded him to lie down in the corner, to sleep for a while. She assured him she would wake him if Iolaus needed him. Herc laid down, one arm over his eyes, and let the exhaustion overtake him. He slept fitfully, troubled by dreams of what had happened, and tormented by nightmares of an unbearable future.

While he slept, Aphrodite and Elliara continued to minister to Iolaus' needs. He, too, slept fitfully during the morning hours, but gradually they became aware that he seemed somewhat better. The gray pallor of death gave way to a healthier flush, and his breathing seemed less laboured. He coughed still, but there was less blood. His pulse grew stronger and the fever, while it did not abate, did not worsen.

Elliara prepared a broth, and it was ready when Hercules awoke. After insisting that he eat some of it, she prepared a bowl for him to feed to Iolaus. When Hercules, too, saw the improvement, however modest, in his friend's condition, his tight shoulders loosened in relief, and some of the lines in his own face began to relax. The guilt was still there, the belief he'd betrayed Iolaus' trust, but now was not the time to deal with that. He needed to think through what had happened, and he needed to find a way to help Iolaus understand how he felt. He needed Iolaus to know he couldn't trust him so completely, could never take such a risk again. When Iolaus was stronger, they would need to talk about it, but, for now, Iolaus needed Herc's full attention and care.

When they called him back to consciousness, Iolaus could feel the change in the air. He could no longer see overwhelming guilt in Hercules' eyes, just honest and deep concern. Aphrodite seemed less frazzled, and Elliara brought a kind of grace, a calmness, even a flash of laughter, in her eyes and touch. The pain was still there, but it felt distant, and he could take a breath without feeling as if his chest would go into another spasm. Although he wasn't hungry, he did his best to consume the broth Hercules held to his lips. He knew he needed the strength its sustenance would bring.

When he finished the spare meal, 'Dite dared to take her hand from his chest for a while, to see how well he could manage without the extra strength her touch brought. Although he paled, he seemed able to manage, and so the Goddess called Elliara aside for a few moments.

"Are you all right?" Iolaus asked Hercules, his voice hesitant and weak.

Herc gazed at him silently for a moment, wondering how to respond. "Yes, or at least, I will be, just as soon as I know you are going to be fine," he said quietly, a hand on his buddy's shoulder.

Iolaus gave him a half grin, the irrepressible twinkle lighting his eyes. "No worries about that, Herc. I got past the worst last night, I think."

Hercules nodded, as he brushed the wayward curls away from Iolaus' face. "I hope so, Iolaus. You had me scared."

"I know. I'm sorry," he replied.

Hercules swallowed, and he too looked away. "Iolaus, I," he paused, "we need to talk about what happened, but not now. There'll be time when you feel better."

Iolaus chuckled weakly. When Hercules looked at him askance, Iolaus explained in a whispery voice, "Good, I'm glad it can wait, 'cause I think we might need to yell at each other, and I really don't have the strength right now." Iolaus figured Herc would give him hell for taking such a risk, but he wasn't worried about it. He'd do it again, in a heartbeat.

Herc smiled at that, and nodded. He felt he deserved to be yelled at, loud and long, for failing to live up to the trust Iolaus had placed in him. He'd look forward to it.

* * *

It was another day before they felt Iolaus could be moved, but he had improved enough by then that they were able to take him into the village, to be seen by the healer. He was sporting an interesting collection of bruises which caused the old man's eyebrows to rise, and his injuries would need continued care, but it seemed he was on the mend. Within the week, he was strong enough to stand and take a few steps on his own, and he was looking forward to the Festival of Love, which was to begin two days later, with a trace of his usual enthusiasm.

There was an awkward moment when Cleandra appeared in the cell where Iolaus was recuperating. He and Hercules had been talking about the unexpected disbandment of Tarsus' camp in the hills. They both knew about 'Dite's machinations, and were joking that the poor guy still didn't seem to know what had hit him. All his men were gone, but he was frequently seen loitering around the Temple, hoping for a glimpse of Elliara, bringing her small tokens of his devotion, flowers, a scarf, a simple silver bracelet, even candy.

She always accepted his gifts with warm appreciation, but each time he had later seen them resting on the altar to Aphrodite, so he'd known she had only been kind, that she was not reciprocating his love. He didn't understand it, and sometimes he was annoyed, but he persisted doggedly. Herc and Iolaus thought it was a riot. Elliara kept her own counsel.

So, they were laughing when Cleandra appeared, standing with her head down, her fingers twisting together. Elliara had explained something of the young girl's motivations to them, so they bore her no malice. They both had too personal an understanding of the desperate need for love that lost and lonely youth could feel so keenly.

Iolaus was the first to see her standing there, and his laughter died away. Herc turned to see what had caught his attention, and he too went silent.

"Cleandra, come in," Iolaus encouraged.

She swallowed as she gave him a quick look up through her lashes, and then she took a few hesitant steps into the tiny room, which seemed crowded by the presence of the men. "I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry, and that I'm glad you're feeling better," she said softly, the shame she felt burning in her cheeks.

"Cleandra, look at me," Iolaus commanded gently, and waited until her eyes rose to meet his. "I know you never meant any harm, that you didn't really understand how dangerous your actions were. But, well, it was wrong, and I hope you won't ever do anything like that again," he said.

"Oh no, I'd never..." she stammered, aghast at the very thought.

Iolaus rewarded her with a blinding smile, as he assured her, "Then, no hard feelings. We all make mistakes, well, most of us," he said with a teasing sideways look at Hercules. "But, so long as we learn from them, that's what matters. Okay?"

She nodded hesitantly, but she also gave Hercules a sideways look, knowing she'd held him in thrall as one of her victims. "I never meant to hurt anyone," she whispered.

Hercules relented, letting the stern look on his face melt away. "It's alright, Cleandra...really. It's all right."

She looked up at him, and then back to Iolaus. After a long pause, she said, "No. No, it's not all right. What I did hurt you, and hurt other people. I acted selfishly and it was wrong. I know that. I didn't understand that you can't ever make someone else love you...and, if you try, people only get hurt. I am sorry. And I'm grateful that you forgive me."

With that, she turned and hurried from the small cell. They both looked at the empty doorway in silence, thinking about what she had said. Thinking that sometimes the lessons of life were not easy ones to learn, and that the learning never ended.

Hercules found himself thinking again about the choice Iolaus had made, and the guilt he still felt for having been unequal to the trust Iolaus had placed in him, awed by the love and commitment that trust revealed, and ashamed to know he was not worthy of it. He shuddered inside, knowing how close he had come to destroying the gift of Iolaus' life with his own two hands.

Iolaus was thinking how sad it was that the child had felt so alone that she'd taken such desperate action to fill the void in her life. When he looked at Hercules, he thought how easily he could have been that child, and how grateful he was that the Fates had dealt him a friendship that banished loneliness from his reality and gave meaning to his life.

They didn't know they were each thinking about what the gift of friendship meant in their lives, and about what their lives would be like without that gift, without the assurance and ever constant, ever dependable presence of that love.

* * *

Two days later, Iolaus bickered, cajoled, whined, pleaded and generally begged enough that he was allowed out into the sunshine to enjoy the village celebration of the Festival of Love. He was sitting on a bench near the Temple, soaking up the warmth of the bright summer day, enjoying the music and general hilarity which swept up everyone in the village. He was also enjoying the company of Elliara, who had taken a few moments from her duties of the day to keep him company.

Iolaus had never been able to work out how he felt about her. There were times when he felt a bubble of excited anticipation at the thought of seeing her, and other times when he felt simple contentment in her presence. Months could pass, even a year, without ever seeing her, but he often found himself remembering the light in her eyes, the sound of her laughter and the light scent of honeysuckle which always surrounded her. He had never wanted to think too much about what she meant to him. She was a friend, someone who meant something very special to him. He trusted her, respected her and knew he always enjoyed being with her. Sometimes he came close to recognizing the strength of his feelings, but he always pushed that tentative realization aside, covering the depth of his affection with teasing and laughter.

In the last few minutes, he had been extolling fervently enough on the virtues of her beauty to bring a soft blush to her cheeks, and she was laughing at his outrageous flirting, not for a moment taking any of it seriously, much as she might have wished she could. She was teasing him back about being a shameless wastrel, whose silver tongue spun tales that could never be believed, and they were laughing, enjoying one another's company, when a shadow loomed over them.

They looked up to see Tarsus standing there, flowers held forgotten in his hand, his eyes flashing with the hurt of unrequited passion. Iolaus bit his lip and looked away. He was beginning to feel sorry for the guy. Elliara stood to greet Tarsus, concerned by his flushed face and evident anger. She wondered if the power of the rose was fading, if his true nature was reclaiming his heart and mind.

"So, I guess he's why you have no time for me," he challenged her, waving toward Iolaus.

"Tarsus, you are upset and you misunderstand," she began in a reasonable tone, only to be cut off.

"Misunderstand? No, I don't think so," he raged. "It's pretty clear you have no interest in me because you are in love with him!" he shouted, more from jealousy than insight. But, his words hit home unexpectedly, and she paused, surprised and dismayed by his accusation. Iolaus, shocked by his words, uncertain, noticed her uncharacteristic hesitation, and glanced toward her, but before either he or Elliara found words, Tarsus turned toward Iolaus, threatening him, "I'll kill you before you take her from me!"

Seriously annoyed by the challenge and even more by Tarsus' hostility toward Elliara, and forgetting for the moment that he was not in top form, Iolaus was about to rise to the challenge, when Elliara burst out with a scathing, furious tone, "How dare you! How dare you threaten a man who is recovering here in our sanctuary from injuries he won honourably in trying to save the lives of others. How dare you! You who have only lived to destroy? Is the emptiness in your own soul so great that you are threatened by the decency of others?"

Tarsus fell back before her rage, hurt by her words. He loved her. He didn't know why or how, but he was desperate to win her approval, desperate for some sign of affection. But, she rejected him at every turn. Iolaus, too, was surprised at her wrath, never having seen her angry before.

But, she was ashamed. It was her act that had led Tarsus to this continuing infatuation, which blinded him and caused his increasingly desperate attempts to win her favour. She swallowed, her head lowered, then she looked up at the warlord who inspired fear in others, but only pity in her heart.

"I'm sorry, Tarsus," she said quietly, "There is much here you do not understand. Walk with me." Turning to Iolaus, she excused herself, then took the other man by the arm and led him away. Iolaus watched them go and wondered what she was saying to him.

After having moved far enough away for privacy, Elliara looked around and turned toward a bench under a spreading oak. She sat, and beckoned Tarsus to sit beside her. She felt uncertain for a moment, unsure of what she could or should say, but then decided that there had been enough lies, that it was time for truth.

"Tarsus," she began, "I owe you an apology. Your threats against the village, and the farms in the area, frightened all of us and we wanted to be safe from you and your men. It was given into my power to place a spell upon you, a spell which would make you feel you love me, which would make you do anything to make me happy. I used the spell, to get you to send your men away. You do not love me, Tarsus, and in a few more days, the spell will have worn off completely. You have the right to be angry and," she paused looking away, "I would expect you'd seek retribution."

Tarsus listened, feeling shock and wanting to deny her words. He knew he loved her. He'd watched her for more than a week now, had seen how her grace and wisdom touched others, had seen the fire of her soul and it had touched him. He was also undone by her beauty, and wanted to hold her, protect her. Wanted to see love for him in her eyes. It couldn't just be a spell...surely he'd know. And, in his intense observation of her, he was convinced as well that he had seen the truth in her own heart.

"Why do you love him? Why can you not love me?" he asked, the hurt clear in his eyes.

She sighed. Truth was not always easy. "Iolaus is a good man, Tarsus. He has compassion for other people, and he devotes his life to helping those who are vulnerable. He is a humble man; for all his boastful stories, he is not prideful. He loves life, and he brings laughter. And, he has courage, the courage to give his life if that is the cost to save another. Many people love him, for many reasons."

She paused and turned to face the man beside her. "I do not know your story, Tarsus. I do not know why you seek power at the cost of others' lives. I do not understand the need to engender terror. You kill without thought or regret. But, Tarsus, the emptiness in your heart cannot be filled by gold, nor can the coldness of your soul be warmed by the fear you instill in others. I hope, someday, that you will find the way to fill that emptiness and to find the warmth you need. But, if that is to happen, you would need to change."

His throat had tightened at her words. He'd not thought about the emptiness he felt, had been angered by it all his life. He'd not known love, nor compassion. He'd had few friends, and all had long drifted away. He trusted no one, and knew no one trusted him. He'd told himself that that was all right, that it was the life he'd wanted. But, it wasn't, it would never be, not now. But, "I don't think I can change...."

There was a lost, hopeless note in his voice and he marveled at it. Maybe her words about the spell were true after all. He knew it was not in his nature to care what others thought, or to sit quietly, accepting such words. Never before had he allowed himself to feel vulnerable, and certainly had never thought to ever reveal that vulnerability to another. But, she was different. She seemed to see through him, and not judge him. Rather, she seemed to grieve for him, and the pain of his life. Instead of seeing what he was, she seemed to see what he could become.

She laid a gentle hand over his. "Anyone can change, Tarsus, if it is what they want. It is not easy, and many will judge you only by your reputation, but it is possible to build a new and different life."

"How?" he asked, doubting her words, surprised to realize he wanted to know the answer.

"Go home, treat others honestly, with respect. Offer help with no thought of repayment; offer it joyously, grateful to be able to help. Spend time with children, teaching them what courage really means, what compassion is. Laugh. Laugh a lot. Find work which brings you satisfaction, however humble it may be, and do it well, knowing that what you do has worth. You have proven your capacity to lead others, to compel men to follow you. Lead them toward creating something of value, not toward destroying that which was created by others. Be someone others can trust, both in word and deed. Teach your sons to seek out and follow the way of love."

"Would you love me then, if I did all those things, if I changed?" he asked, wondering if anyone would ever truly love him.

She smiled at him, then. "Tarsus, whatever happens, whenever you have need of me, I will be your friend. I have betrayed you in the most terrible way, and I hope that you may forgive me for it. We have all of us done things that cause us shame. The best any of us can do is to seek not to harm, but to give of ourselves with honesty and love. To that extent, yes, I will love you. But, I'm sorry," she said, looking back at the man sitting alone in the sun, "I will never be capable of giving you the kind of love you seek from me."

"I will think about your words, Elliara. And, I will see if they still make sense once the spell you say I'm under wears off," he replied standing. He looked at her for a long moment, as if trying to inscribe her features on his mind, that he might always remember her. Then, he turned and walked away.

Elliara never saw Tarsus again, though she wondered often about him. Long years later, she heard of a man called Tarsus who was known for his strength and leadership, and for his compassion for other people, and she wondered if it was the same man she had known. She would never know that he never stopped loving her, or that he did all that she had told him he must do. Nor could she know that generations in the future, one of his descendents, a man named Saul, would be blinded by the light of love, would give the rest of his life to light the path for others, and would die for the love that would someday light the world.

She watched him walk away, then she stood and went back to Iolaus, intent upon recreating their mood of harmless fun. But, he'd been watching her, and had been thinking about what Tarsus had said, wondering if it was true. She conjured up a bright gamin smile, but found it was not returned. His eyes held concern for her, a look she was not used to seeing in the eyes of others, being the one who was more often cast in the role of caregiver.

"Are you all right?" Iolaus asked quietly, taking her hand.

"Yes," she responded.

"Aphrodite told Hercules and me about the rose, about what she asked you to do," Iolaus told her, understanding what she had done, wondering what had really transpired between her and Tarsus. "It must have been hard for you."

Elliara looked away and nodded. "Tarsus was a threat to all of us. You and Hercules came here to deal with him in your way, as warriors. You have your skills, and your weapons, and you would have risked your life to stop him from hurting the people here, from killing them." She looked back into his eyes. "I, too, wanted to stop him. I have different skills, and my weapon was a rose petal. You would have dealt with him openly and honestly. I lied to him, deluded him, manipulated him, perverted the very nature of what love is meant to be." She smiled a little sadly, "But, my life was never at risk, not as yours would have been."

Iolaus studied her for a moment. He didn't think he had ever met anyone who was more honest, especially about their own actions. "Not your life, perhaps. Elliara, you judge yourself too harshly. There are wounds that can't be seen...it sounds like your heart, and maybe even your soul, have suffered for your actions to save the people here. You did what you had to do, and you did it for the right reasons."

"Thank you, but...good intentions do not make a lie the truth," she replied quietly, again looking away.

There was a silence between them while she watched the villagers dance in the streets, spilling out of the nearby square. And he watched her, wondering, and finally deciding he wanted to know, he asked, "What he said...is it true?"

She looked up at the sky and closed her eyes before turning back to him, not bothering to pretend she didn't understand. Tarsus had accused her of loving Iolaus. "Tarsus asked me why I love you, and I told him that a great many people love you, for a great many reasons," she replied with a teasing tone and a light smile, trying to deflect his attention, "As humble as you are, Iolaus, you must know that. What's one more admirer in a crowd?"

But, he wasn't ready to be deflected, didn't want to be. He leaned toward her, ignoring the sharp twinge in his side, and touched her face tenderly, hesitantly, "Elliara?"

Unable to resist his touch, she leaned her face into his hand, her eyes meeting his. "Yes, it is true," she confessed quietly, unwilling to lie.

He drew her face towards him and his lips brushed against hers, then parted to catch and hold them, softly at first, then demandingly...and she responded, unable to help herself. They broke apart, both shattered by the moment, by the emotions which had surged within them. "Elliara, I have never known anyone like you, and I want..." he whispered, reluctant to ask for more.

"What do you want, Iolaus?" she asked, honestly wondering, as she took his hand between hers.

Iolaus looked away, across the square to where Hercules was laughing with a group of villagers, and grinned unconsciously when one young girl pulled on Herc's arm to draw him into the dance. "If my life was different, I would want to spend it with you, but..." he said quietly, surprising himself with the truth he had not allowed himself to acknowledge in all the years he had known and had come to care for this woman, valuing her as someone vital in his life.

Her eyes followed his glance, and she completed his sentence, "But you have a different path to follow, a different purpose to serve. He needs you, Iolaus. And, you need him. I have always understood that."

His eyes sought hers again. He felt regret and loss, but he only nodded. "I can't make promises of any kind of future," he said with a faraway look in his eyes. Then, he laughed softly, "I don't even know what tomorrow will bring, or if I will ever be back here again." His life was uncertain, often at risk. He'd not ask anyone to share those risks with him, never expect anyone to wait for a someday that might never come.

She grinned then, and her eyes danced with mischief. "I know, I've always known. But, there is always today."

He gazed at her, his grip on her hand tightening. "Can today be enough?"

"Today is all we ever have, Iolaus, the rest is hope, conjecture, possibility. Today is all that is ever certain. So, yes, when it is all we have, it is enough."

He nodded, and let the light of love in his own eyes answer the love in hers. He stood, and drew her to her feet, and together they entered into the cool shadows of the Temple.

* * *

It was another two weeks before Iolaus was strong enough to move on. Elliara and Iolaus cherished their time together, treating each day as if it could last forever, yet knowing that each moment was precious, a space in time that would not come again. Others were surprised at first, that the spark had ignited between them, but soon realized that they were the perfect complement for one another. He was fire, and light, and energy. She was calm, and love and grace. They both lived each moment of their lives with passion and joy, confronting the dark times, reveling in the good. And they both understood the power of laughter to heal, and to celebrate happiness. They each knew who they were, why they lived and they respected the other's responsibilities and commitments. They both had a healthy sense of the ridiculous. And both understood that life is not forever, that it is important to live fully, give freely and cherish those around them.

Hercules watched the love between them open like a flower, fresh and beautiful, complete in itself. And he wondered if he was destined to lose Iolaus on this journey after all, but if he must lose him, better to love than death. Still, for all his sincere happiness for Iolaus and Elliara, he felt a deep sadness, the precursor to the loneliness of a life without Iolaus to share it. Deep in his heart, he felt it was no more than he deserved anyway. He was the one who had proven himself unworthy of the unconditional trust and love Iolaus had given to him. Iolaus deserved someone who would love him, and wouldn't ever try to beat him to death, no matter what. He deserved Elliara, who understood love, and knew how to give it so completely. He didn't say anything to Iolaus, waiting for his buddy to tell him that he wouldn't be going with him this time. But, Iolaus didn't say a word to him about Elliara, or his feelings for her.

One evening, Hercules was standing outside the Temple, gazing up at the sky, deciding that the time had come for him to move on. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would say farewell. His jaw tightened at the thought, and a frown settled between his brows. He felt a lump in his throat and a constriction in his heart knowing how difficult it would be for him to walk away alone.

"You look like you just lost your best friend," Iolaus teased gently.

Hercules jerked in surprise, and turned his head to see Iolaus standing a few feet away. In his abstraction, he had not heard his friend approach. "Well, I," Herc half raised a hand in an almost helpless gesture as he tried to find the words to admit that was exactly how he felt, without actually saying it. He got a quizzical look on his face and shrugged.

Iolaus smiled softly as he came closer. "I thought we should probably be on our way tomorrow, Herc. I'm feeling a lot stronger, and it's time to go."

Herc shook his head slowly, wondering as he often did, if Iolaus could really read his mind. But, "Iolaus, I thought you and Elliara..."

It was Iolaus' turn to shrug and look up at the stars. He turned his gaze back to Herc's, "She's...special, very special. But, the time's not right." Iolaus was not about to let Hercules know why he was leaving Elliara or how hard it was to go. His buddy felt guilty enough about too many things, and Iolaus had made his own decision about how he intended to live his life. As long as Hercules needed him, and he could watch his back, he'd be with him. Iolaus honestly believed that that was why he had been born, that that was the reason for his life, the purpose of his being. And he had no regrets, well, at least not many.

Hercules frowned, uncertain. "Iolaus, you don't have to leave."

"I know," his friend replied quietly with a half smile. He looked at the ground for a moment, shrugged again, then touched Herc's arm lightly as he turned to go. "I'll see you in the morning. Good night, Hercules."

Hercules watched his friend wander back into the Temple, wondering if he should call him back, tell him he was making a mistake, that he should stay if he loved Elliara. And, Hercules was certain that he did love her. He'd not seen that look in Iolaus' eyes since Anya had died.

But, he swallowed the words. It was selfish, and he knew it. But, he didn't want to leave alone. He knew he needed Iolaus in his life, more than he needed air.

* * *

The next morning, Elliara and Iolaus greeted the dawn together on the roof of the Temple. They'd both known this moment was inevitable, but it was hard to find the words to express all the mixed up, complicated feelings they shared. She was standing, leaning back against him, his arms around her, feeling his warmth and his love. Knowing she had to let him go. Without tears. Without regret.

Finally, she said quietly, "Look at the sky, Iolaus. She is always there, not knowing if the sun will return again. She holds the wind, and shelters the stars, gives space for the moon to roam and for the clouds to drift where they will. She knows all of this is of great worth. Still, she is never as bright and clear, as when the sun is there with her, and when he is present, the moon and the stars dim. But, even when the sun comes, she knows he is just passing by, that he cannot stay. For all of that, she would not seek to hold the sun in place, because she knows he must follow his path, bringing light to the dark corners of the world, that he is needed elsewhere and must make his own journey through time. Still, even not knowing if the sun will ever return, she is there, always, ready to welcome him, and rejoice in his light as he passes by."

His arms tightened around her, and then he turned her, to hold her against his body, his face buried in her hair. "The sun can't expect the sky to always be there, not when he makes no promise to return."

She pulled away a little, and looked into his eyes, a tender smile on her lips. "Ah, but she has no choice, you see. The sky loves the sun, and is content to know that when he does come, if he comes, the dawn will be brilliant, and the day full of warmth. In the meantime, she has the stars, and the moon, and the wind and the clouds to give her time meaning. The sun can journey where he will and be confident that the sky will always be there for him, will always love him, will always welcome him, should his path allow him to pass by once again."

She kissed him, and hugged him again tightly. "Go light up the world, Iolaus," she whispered, determined not to cry.

"I love you, Elliara," he whispered back, holding her, grateful for her love, wishing he could return as the sun did each and every day. Finally, they pulled apart, and he bent to pick up his pack. Slinging it over his shoulder, he murmured, his voice unsteady, "Even when he's gone, Elli, the sun always remembers the sky...and longs to return." He kissed her once more, quickly.

And then he was gone, down the steps and out to the street, where Hercules was waiting.

* * *

They ambled slowly along the road, not wanting to overtax Iolaus' still limited reserves of energy, both lost in their own thoughts, and they'd traveled for about an hour before Hercules stopped and turned to Iolaus. "I can't do this," he said.

Iolaus stopped and looked up at Hercules, a confused frown on his face. "Do what?"

"This. Let you leave her. Iolaus, I know you love her. I," Hercules looked up and around, seeking the right words, "I can't let you sacrifice your life, your happiness, just because I don't want to travel alone."

Iolaus stood with a thumb in his belt, his head cocked a little to the side, as he studied his partner. Shaking his head, he looked around, spotted a log and pointed at it. "Sit," he said, "we need to talk."

Herc was about to protest, then shrugged and moved to the log and sat down. Iolaus stood before him, marshalling his thoughts. "First, you're right. I do love her, and it's not easy to leave her. But," he held up a hand when Herc opened his mouth to intervene, "it was my decision to leave. Herc, I'm not 'sacrificing my life' as you put it. I want to travel with you. If I didn't, I wouldn't be here."

Hercules studied his friend's face, his eyes troubled. "Why?"

Iolaus threw up his hands, "Why what?"

"Why do you always put me first?" When Iolaus gave him an exasperated look, and turned away, heading down the trail, refusing to grace such a stupid question with an answer, Hercules called after him, "You always do, you know...like two weeks ago, when you crushed that damned rose petal, trusting me to...."

Herc didn't know where that had come from. He hadn't intended to talk about that yet, and he sure hadn't meant to sound so angry. Angry with his failure, with his betrayal of Iolaus, with his incapacity to be trusted even with that which was the most important gift in his life.

Iolaus froze, then turned back. "Damn it, Herc, I thought you understood there wasn't any other choice. Besides, you know I trusted you...."

"Some choice. You chose to entrust your life to me, you chose to risk letting me kill you." Just like that, the guilt and fear was back in full force. "Dammit, Iolaus, you shouldn't have risked...."

"'Dammit, Iolaus?'" his partner cut in, storming back to stand in front of Hercules as he spoke, where he threw his pack to the ground, leaned forward, hands gesturing in emphasis, every bit as angry as Herc had appeared to be, misunderstanding, thinking the anger was directed toward him, missing the shift to guilt. "What in Tarturus was I supposed to do? Let you die? Let the villagers die? Walk away and say, 'oh well, I tried, too bad, I guess I should just give up?' Gods, Herc, I knew you'd snap out of it, that you wouldn't hurt me."

"I almost killed you," Hercules shouted, standing to loom over Iolaus, terrified by what he'd almost done.

"You didn't know what you were doing," Iolaus countered, turning away. He hated it when Herc loomed like that.

Hercules grabbed his arm and pulled him back. "So that makes it okay? Bullshit! Iolaus, you trusted me with your life, and I...let you down. Don't you see? You can't do that, you can't rely upon me...you almost died because you believed in me. I betrayed you, Iolaus. I don't deserve your trust. I don't deserve to have you give up Elliara's love for me." The anger was spent, leaving the guilt and shame naked in Hercules' eyes. He let go of his grip on Iolaus' arm, and turned away.

Iolaus had been staring at Hercules with shocked incomprehension. "Hercules, what in Tarturus are you talking about? You've never betrayed me...you've never let me down."

When Herc neither responded nor turned back to face him, Iolaus shook his head in frustration and grabbed Herc's arm, pulling him around. "Herc," he said quietly, "C'mon...talk to me. I really don't understand what you feel so bad about. If anything, I was the one too stupid to remember it would take a while for you to fight off the spell. I stayed too close when I reversed the spell. I should have given you more room...."

"Iolaus!" Hercules grated, bringing his eyes back to his friend's, "Don't make excuses for me. How could you have taken that risk, how could you have placed your life in these hands!"

Iolaus looked at the hands Herc was holding up in front of his face, then he looked back up at Hercules, replying simply, "Because I trust you...gods, Herc, I put my life in your hands six days out of seven. I always have."

Hercules shook his head. "No, its not the same, Iolaus, not when we're backing each other up, fighting a common enemy. This time, I was the enemy, this time it was me who tried to kill you, when you were trusting me to safeguard your life."

"Ah, Herc, you were just chasing me, trying to slow me down...it was the spell," Iolaus replied with an offhanded wave. "Now, when you were choking me, well, then you were trying to kill me, but you didn't, you couldn't. I knew you'd never be able to kill me anymore than I could kill you. No spell could ever be strong enough to make you do that. I knew that. I was absolutely right to trust you, don't you see? I knew you'd break out of the spell, and I knew then that you could save the villagers. And, all you did was prove me right."

"Iolaus," Herc muttered, "I could have killed you."

"Well, yeah, I know you could have. But you didn't. When it came to the moment, you couldn't do it. That's really what I was counting on, Herc, and, buddy, you didn't let me down," Iolaus asserted.

Hercules gazed at him, not yet ready to let it go. "You never, not for even one moment, thought you were going to die? You were certain, right up to when I woke up that I wasn't going to kill you?"

Iolaus opened his mouth to reply, 'never', 'not for one moment', but that wouldn't have been the truth, and if Herc had the least doubt that he was telling the truth, then he wouldn't believe any of it. He looked away for a moment, then back. "Herc, for a moment I was scared that you wouldn't realize until after...it was all happening so fast, I thought I'd pushed too hard, not allowed enough time...and I felt so bad knowing I'd done that to you....I'm sorry. I never wanted to put you in the position of knowing you'd killed me."

Hercules shook his head. "Now you're apologizing to me for the fact that I almost killed you. Gods, Iolaus," he threw up his hands, turning away, "You prove my point for me, and you still won't admit you can't trust me. You thought I was going to kill you."

"Oh, this is ridiculous," Iolaus muttered, moving around to stand in front of Hercules, to block him from walking away from this. Raising his hands, he said firmly, with some exasperation, "Hercules, enough. Enough with the guilt. Enough with the 'you can't trust me', crap. Enough. You broke out of the spell, you didn't kill me. I don't believe you ever could kill me, no matter what, and you're going to have to live with my trust. Okay? Are we clear? Can we forget it and move on, as in..." he swept a hand along the road they had been walking along, "go and find a few warlords to beat up or monsters that need killing?"

But, even as he said the words, Iolaus knew he'd couldn't even begin to imagine how he'd feel if he'd been in the same situation that he'd put Hercules in, if he'd almost killed Herc in some fit of madness. But, even with that realization, he knew he couldn't have acted differently, would never not trust Hercules. It almost turned out a disaster, it almost got away from them, more by chance than anything Herc had meant to do, but everything was fine. Herc had stopped as Iolaus had trusted he would. End of story. He just wanted to move on, leave the whole wretched experience behind them.

But, as he looked up into Hercules' eyes, he could see it wasn't the end of the story. Hands on his hips, he studied his friend for a long moment, trying to read his eyes, his body. Since Herc invariably avoided talking about painful emotions, Iolaus had gotten good at reading him over the years. He could see the guilt was almost gone, not burning with the intensity of a few minutes before. But, there was something else. What the...? "Hercules, what is it? Why do you look so...afraid?"

Hercules stood with his hands on his hips, shaking his head. His eyes narrowed as he looked into the distance, then he pushed a hand through his hair, gestured at the log and said, "Sit down, we need to talk about this." He sat and waited until Iolaus had sat down beside him.

Leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, his hands up and his eyes on the ground, Hercules began quietly, "Iolaus, I did a lot of thinking back there in the old temple. I was appalled by what I had done. You trusted me with your life, and I'd almost...it's hard enough when you get hurt when we're backing each other up, but this time, this time you deliberately chose to risk death by my hand. When I realized what I was doing, when you almost died..." Herc's voice cracked. His voice was little more than a whisper as he continued, "I have to make you understand..."

Iolaus placed a hand on his friend's shoulder and bit his lip. He didn't know how to help Hercules to let it go. "Herc," he sighed, "I do understand."

"No, I don't think you do. Iolaus," Hercules said softly, leaning back to gaze at the sky. "A few minutes ago, you said I have to live with your trust...but, trust is only one of the gifts you give to me." Hercules turned to face his partner, his face strained. "You give me the gift of having you beside me, no matter what, even when it means leaving someone like Elliara behind. You give me the gift of your friendship. The gift of having someone to pick me up when I need it and to take me down a peg when I lose my grip on reality. The gift of your laughter, and your crazy courage...and your compassion. You give me those gifts everyday, just by being here, just by being you. And, I almost destroyed all of that. What if next time I do? What if next time we both find out too late that you trusted me too far."

Hercules paused a moment, looking away, "I need those gifts, Iolaus, more I think than you realize. Or, maybe not," he said, shaking his head a little. "You sure give up everything and everyone else for me, so maybe you do know exactly how much I need you. But, if that's the case," he continued, looking back at Iolaus, "you must also know how lost I'd be without you. So, when you risk your life, it scares me. And when you trust me with your life, and I almost take it...gods Iolaus," he finished hoarsely, "I'm scared by the trust, scared that someday I might go too far, not stop in time. Please, don't ever risk so much again."

Iolaus had turned aside while Herc was speaking, leaning forward, his elbows on his thighs, his hands clasped between his knees, his head down. He sat silently for a long moment after Hercules had finished speaking, then finally he replied dryly, "So, I'm not supposed to trust you with my life in case it doesn't work out next time?"

"Right," Herc said, with a sharp, definite nod.

Iolaus snorted and sat back, giving Hercules a sardonic look. "So, by the same token Herc, I guess you mean that you can never trust your life to me, in case I screw up, make a mistake or just generally end up letting you die...right?"

"NO!" Hercules protested. "That's not what I said, of course I trust you, would always trust you...."

"Works both ways, Herc," Iolaus cut in, with a half smile.

When Hercules opened his mouth to protest further, Iolaus held up his hand. "You had your say, now I'll have mine. First, yes, I do know you need me. Even the Son of Zeus can't take on the world, and half the gods, by himself. And, yes, I have committed my life to what we do together. We're a pair of crazy fools who think we can make a difference, but, you know, I really believe what we do matters. So, it's not some sacrifice on my part to follow you around Greece looking for folks who could use a little help. And, yeah, I know you depend on me to keep you humble. It's a tough job but somebody has to do it," he finished with a grin.

Hercules looked away, irritated with the touch of humour. Iolaus laid a hand on his shoulder, saying more seriously, "But, you talk as if I don't need your friendship every bit as much as you need mine. Herc, I'm glad to be with you, and it may sound childish, but its fun, and its always full of adventure...and it makes my life worthwhile. And, of course I trust you, with everything that I am...why wouldn't I? Herc, I'd already lost count fifteen years ago of how many times you'd saved my life. You've even brought me back from the dead, much to Hades' disgust. Buddy, if we hadn't've learned to have that kind of trust in each other a long, long time ago, we couldn't do what we do...and we'd probably both be dead by now!"

Iolaus sighed, sitting back, looking up at the sky and around at the forest. "I know it's scary to have someone else trust you with their life...scares me a lot sometimes to know that you trust me that much. But, Herc, tell me this," he continued, turning back to his partner, "if the situation with that damned rose had been reversed, and it had been me under the spell, and it was going to kill me, and all those villagers, unless you risked letting me kill you, wouldn't you have trusted me to able to resist the spell? And, if it took me a while to get my act together, and I hurt you, badly, before realizing what I was doing, would you blame me, decide never to trust me again, believe I had betrayed and failed you?"

When Hercules didn't answer, realizing in fact how stupid that was, that of course he would still, always, trust Iolaus, his best friend feigned a hurt look, continuing in a mournful tone, "Oh, so you would have blamed me, lost faith in me. Ah well, and here I thought you'd have done the same thing in my place, and felt just the same as I do now."

Herc gave him a backhanded slap on the arm, trying not to grin. He'd been scared, dammit, and he didn't want Iolaus doing anything that risky again. "Don't push it, Iolaus."

Iolaus chuckled softly. "Herc, I am sorry. What happened back there was harder on you than me. I admit that. It was my choice, and if it hadn't've worked out, I wasn't the one who would've had to live with the results. But, I wasn't wrong, anymore than you have ever been wrong to trust me, like you did in Nemea."

Herc jerked his head around to look at Iolaus, who grinned back. "Ah hah! You forgot about that, didn't you...but I never have, Herc. You believed in my inability to kill you when any rational person would have known it was crazy, that there was no way I even remembered you. Just like I believed in you regardless of what spell made you forget who I was for a moment. The command of the spell was 'you love me not', but it couldn't work, because the truth is, you do love me, and that truth is what I knew would break the spell's hold."

Iolaus leaned toward his friend, "Life's a risk, Herc, no one knows that better than you. And neither one of us is about to go hide in some corner to avoid danger. Gods, even if we tried to hide, Hera or Ares or some idiot warlord would just come and find us. I figure we just have to enjoy it all, our lives, the fun we have, the things we do while we've got it… 'cause it ain't going to last forever. Like someone wise said to me recently, 'all we ever really have is today. The rest is hope, conjecture, possibility.' But, so long as we are both alive, we each know there is one person on this earth we can trust with our lives, no matter what."

Hercules sat back, as he thought about all that Iolaus had said. Biting his lip, he finally let his guilt and fear go, because he knew that just as he accepted the responsibility Iolaus placed on him with the gift of such complete trust, he knew Iolaus accepted the same gift of trust from him, with all that that meant. It was something they gave one another, unconditionally, every day. It was the foundation of their friendship.

Finally, he nodded, cocking his head to look sideways up at Iolaus. "Okay, you've convinced me. I've been over-reacting, as usual. But, Iolaus, if you ask me, that was one crazy way to rescue me from the priestess... 'you love me not'?" Herc gave him a pained expression of quizzical incredulity.

Iolaus grinned ruefully, rubbing still sore ribs, "Yeah? You think so? Don't knock it, Herc...it worked. I tried joking, begging, pleading, whining, throwing a tantrum, and finally, rational argument without any noticably effective results. Just one thing...."

"Anything, Iolaus, you know that," Herc assured him seriously, wishing he could remember the other tricks Iolaus had tried...wishing they had worked.

"Just don't ever get yourself into another mess like that where I have to go through it all again, okay, buddy? Gods, Herc, some of it was downright humiliating. If you could have seen the look on your face when you gazed with rapture at that priestess...and I won't even begin to tell you what it was like being dragged out of the Temple like some brat...."

Hercules cut in, knowing Iolaus was making light of the whole thing but not finding any humour in any of it. The expression on his face made it very clear how much he hated Iolaus having had to go through it all even once, let alone ever again. "Never again."

"Promise?" Iolaus cajoled.

"Trust me," Hercules asserted with grim sincerity.

"With my life," Iolaus teased, pleased to have finally won a smile.

Finis