HTLJ: MY Soul, My Choice

by Arianna18

Arianna's retelling of the dread 5th season and how Hercules got his best friend back again.

4. Hitting the Wall

Chapter Four: Hitting the Wall

Jason held his breath when the unnatural storm blew up and the vortex appeared. Ares had shown up a couple of hours before, eyes flashing with fury, ordering the ex-King to watch his mouth or he'd be sorry. Jason, just as angry, and far more worried, had stood his ground, wanting to know what Ares was going to do to ensure the balance in the universe, or was he just going to stand around giving useless orders? Ares had gritted his teeth as he glowered at Jason, and rolled his eyes, breathing deeply to control his temper. Oh how he wanted to blast this idiot mortal moron away. But, Zeus had been pretty clear when he'd sent Ares to sort out the problem that the simple option wasn't allowed.

"Fine," the god had finally muttered, turning to face the vortex. Just before he leapt into it, he turned to Jason, pointing a finger at him as he shouted, "And you, you just SHUT UP until I get back. Understand?"

Seething, Jason had nodded…and he'd been pacing about ever since, hands on his hips, a scowl on his face, waiting. Ares was not the god he'd have chosen, given the option, to sort this out. The arrogant god was more likely to make things worse…or even align with the Sovereign to take over both worlds. The fact that the vortex had closed again shortly after Ares had disappeared into it didn't make him feel any better. Hercules' philosophy was that prayer was a waste of time and gods only complicated things. Biting his lip, Jason had to wonder if his friend didn't have the right of it.

So, he heaved a breath when the vortex began to swirl, his eyes narrowed as he watched closely, cursing softly when nothing seemed to happen at first. And, then, Ares blew out, his fist securely clamped on the arm of a much smaller man, blond. Jason frowned as their momentum bore them closer.

"By the gods," he murmured on a surprised breath. "Iolaus?" But, then he realized who he was looking at. The pointed hat graced with a pompom and the curled toes of the shoes…it was the Jester. Hercules and Iolaus had told him about Iolaus' twin a couple of years ago. He lowered his head a moment, the force of hope had been so sudden, and strong, the disappointment keen. But, then he looked up, catching hold of the Jester as they came close, holding him up when he stumbled.

The Jester looked up and saw Jason…and blanched. Then remembered this wasn't his Jason. This was all going to take a lot of getting used to.

The ex-king turned to Ares, bellowing over the roar of the wind, "Where are they? Why didn't you bring them back?"

Ares narrowed his eyes at the tone, but held off throwing a lightning bolt, as he shouted back, turning to point at the vortex, "Hold your horses…they're right behind us!"

And, sure enough, Jason saw Hercules tumble out of the swirling void and thought he'd glimpsed the hunter behind the demigod, but then the image of his friend faded. Not sure if he'd been seeing things, Jason had to assume Iolaus was with Hercules…the demigod would never have come back without him. Heaving a sigh of relief, he went to meet his friend as the vortex shrank and closed behind him. Grinning in relief, Jason pounded the demigod's shoulder in welcome. "What happened in there?" he demanded.

"Long story," Hercules replied, clapping him on the shoulder, but he smiled to indicate the news was good. "I'll tell you all about it later."

"Sure you will," Jason grumbled, wishing he could hear Iolaus' version.

Hercules moved forward to join Ares and the Jester, who was standing silently, watching everything, looking like he might bolt at any minute.

Ares rolled his shoulders, glad this bit of nonsense was over. He had better things to do than shut up a raging, aging hero and trip the light fantastic to another world. There were wars to be fought! Hands on his hips, glaring at Jason, his brother, the ridiculous, quivering double of the runt and the runt's ghost, he found he didn't have anything to say to any of them and took off in a flash of smoke.

The Jester jumped a little at Ares' sudden departure, but held his ground. Hercules continued to his side, laying a reassuring hand on his shoulder, as he said, "Welcome to our world! This is Jason, our good friend and my father-in-law. Jason, this is Iolaus. We persuaded him to come back with us."

"Good," Jason replied, nodding, holding out an arm, which the Jester took awkwardly. "I'm glad to meet you."

Swallowing, the Jester tried to smile in response, but he simply looked pale and very, very nervous, as he replied, babbling a little in a voice that made the ex-king's heart ache, "Thank you. It's nice to meet you, too. To know you're a friend…in my world, you used to be…a friend, that is…but there was a lot of trouble years ago, and you left, to become a pirate. I mean, your double left…well, you know what I mean…don't you?"

"Yes," Jason assured him, his eyes kind as he smiled gently. "I understand." He'd heard enough about the other world from Iolaus to have some idea of the ghastly life this version of his old friend had endured. Looking back to Hercules to include him, he continued, "Well…let's head back home, open a large flash of wine, and the two of you can bring me up to date."

Iolaus stood a little to the side, listening, once again feeling completely invisible.

Maybe because he was.

* * *

Hours later, the fire having burned low in the hearth, the wine well consumed along with a fine old cheese and reasonably fresh bread, Jason guided a decidedly tipsy and somewhat more relaxed Jester to his bed. It wasn't as if it was a large cottage however, and the bed was the one Iolaus had always used when he was home, in Hercules' old room.

To his credit, the warrior's soul didn't mind…at least not much. He felt a peculiar sadness again, knowing he'd never need that bed and an odd twist inside that his double now made it his own. It was stupid. This had been his idea, and he was glad to help his counterpart, and he knew it wasn't as if he was being replaced, but…. He shrugged, determined to push the odd, empty feeling away.

Hercules had been watching him, reading his face. "Do you mind?" he asked quietly.

Iolaus started a little, surprised and a bit embarrassed to have been caught out. Throughout the long evening, he'd thrown in a few comments for Hercules to add to the discussion, but the Jester had tensed up each time, looking around the room as if expecting Iolaus to leap into him at any moment. So, to help the guy relax, Iolaus had subsided, drifting back to the role of silent observer. Herc had flashed him a look from time to time, and Jason had included him in some comments, but mostly, it was kinda like he'd hadn't even been there. Truth be told, he'd forgotten for the moment that anyone might be watching him and hadn't been guarding his expression the way he should have.

Turning his gaze to Hercules, he shook his head, "No…not 'mind' exactly. Just feels a little odd. I'll get used to it."

Hercules nodded, wondering to himself if he would ever get used to it. "Feel like going for a walk?"

Iolaus quirked his brows as he straightened from where he'd been leaning against the stonework of the hearth, as he replied, "Sure…but, it's late, Herc. If you just want to turn in, that's okay."

"No," the demigod replied, "no, I feel like getting some air."

They wandered out into the night, and stood a moment gazing up at the glittering sky. Hercules led the way around the barn and out across the field toward the forest beyond, seemingly lost in thought. After they'd walked for about half an hour, they reached a clearing near a stream where they'd often fished as kids and throughout all the years ever since. Settling onto his favourite log, Hercules looked up at Iolaus. "Tell me about him…if you don't mind," he asked. "He's…so jumpy and sad. I don't know what to say to him, how to get him to relax."

Iolaus looked away, wondering if he had the right to violate a confidence that hadn't even been freely given, but taken, when he'd first invaded his twin's body and ended up with all his memories into the bargain. Shaking his head, he decided it couldn't hurt and might help. "I don't know how he survived," he started quietly, moving to sit beside Hercules on the log, leaning forward, his hands clasped between his knees. Studying the ground, he continued, "In his world, Skouros never married his mother…and she was a prostitute. He grew up on the streets, mostly, living by his wits. When they were kids, he and his Hercules were friends, best friends. It's the only thing in his life that's even remotely like mine was. But…Alcmene was crazy…mean, deliberately cruel. She hated her son and let him know it every chance she got. Zeus wasn't absent, though it might have been better if he had been. He played with his son's mind…like losing him in that maze, taunting him, tormenting him, then spoiling him, telling him he was the best, the only one the King of the Gods loved, told him he'd have to be strong to win, no matter what the cost to anyone else. And, the poor kid learned, learned to be as cruel and crazy as his parents were."

Iolaus paused, sitting back to look up at the stars. "Seeing the Sovereign through his eyes, I began to really feel sorry for the guy. He really couldn't help what he became, at least not in the Jes..er…my counterpart's view."

Hercules stiffened, not wanting to accept that, not wanting to think he might have ended up that way if his life had been different. "Everyone has a choice. Your twin managed to hold onto his decency," he said, his voice hard.

"Yeah," Iolaus sighed, closing his eyes, but that didn't help block out the memories he'd acquired. "The Sovereign…well…when his Iolaus left, to find his own way, unable to stomach what was happening, how the demigod was changing, the Sovereign went after him. Iolaus had learned lots of tricks to earn obols, juggling, singing, telling jokes, mimickry. It was the way he learned to survive, being so much…smaller than the other, rougher kids. So, he got work in comedy clubs, made his way north to the Hellespont. Jason was still a friend, then, and checked up on him from time to time, to make sure he was doing okay. In that world, Jase's father wasn't much of a king and he'd lost his throne. Jason had become a merchant seaman, and was doing okay at it, I guess. Anyway, he was there when the Sovereign caught up with Iolaus."

Again, Iolaus paused, frowning, shaking his head. "What happened then?" Hercules prodded.

"Iolaus tried to resist going back. He knew it would be a mistake, that he couldn't trust Hercules anymore, he'd changed too much. He didn't want to see it, see the terrible things he heard his best friend now did, just for amusement. But, the Sovereign wasn't taking no for an answer. He beat him, Herc. Beat him bad. Jason tried to stop him, and gotten pretty badly banged up for his efforts. That's when he turned pirate. To raid the Sovereign's ships, to make him pay the only way he had for becoming a monster. The Sovereign dragged Iolaus back to his palace in chains…told him he had a new job. A job for life. As the personal Jester to the Sovereign of all Greece. He's been beating him ever since, whipping him, torturing him, all the while calling him 'buddy', referring to Iolaus as his 'best friend'…and when he's drunk, his 'only friend'."

The warrior's soul paused, sighing deeply, then continued, "Iolaus thinks he's all mixed up. That somehow, down deep, the Sovereign loves him, but wants to punish him for abandoning him…and keeps punishing him because Iolaus broke the trust between them. Iolaus doesn't hate him, never did. Sometimes he pities the Sovereign. Sometimes, he gets angry, at Zeus and Alcmene for what they did to his Hercules, how they destroyed him. Sometimes he just grieves over the friend he lost and could never seem to find a way to find again. He hoped for a long time that something of his friend would resurface, but he gave up that hope a long time ago." Iolaus paused and looked up into the sky, his voice dropping to a whisper, "Even after all that, he never stopped loving Hercules…it's like Hercules was the only person he ever did love. In that world, I'm not surprised that he held so tight to the only memories he had of happiness and decency. His life has been the worst nightmare, Herc, every single day of it."

Hercules had been unconsciously clenching his fists as the story had unfolded, his anger growing toward the Sovereign. Looking down at his fists, then at Iolaus, he couldn't begin to imagine how his counterpart could have done such terrible things, used his strength so brutally, against the only person who had likely ever loved him. Gods, the man was worse than an animal, worse than the monsters he'd faced in his life. Hercules hated that someone who was his twin could willfully be so wantonly brutal and cruel. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to keep listening, knowing from Iolaus' posture and expression that there was more.

Iolaus brushed a hand over his eyes, knowing he'd be weeping if ghosts could cry. Heaving out a breath, he finished, "He's wanted to die for years, but most desperately after the revolution went bad and everyone else was killed. He was spared because he'd been wounded and presumed dead…waking on the battlefield long after the Empress' warriors had quit the field. Waking up amidst the corpses of all his friends, people who'd trusted and followed him. But…he couldn't kill himself because…because he knew it would kill me, too. So…he forced himself to endure…and condemned himself for a coward, for not having the courage to end it all." Iolaus' voice cracked and he looked away. "He endured all that for me, Herc. When the Sovereign tracked him after I got away, he…you'd never believe what he did to Iolaus. Not once, but every single day since. Gods…for me…."

Turning to his friend, Hercules grated, his voice harsh with his anger, "None of that was your fault."

Shaking his head slowly, Iolaus sighed. "I know that," he replied, crossing his arms, "no more than it's your fault for what the Sovereign did. It's just…freaky to be tied so closely to someone you didn't even know existed, hardly ever thought about even when you did. And…I guess I feel bad that he tried so hard to live, and then I went and died anyway, without a single thought about what it would do to him. It's like I let him down."

"Well, that's a really sensible way to think about it," Hercules chided him gently. "From what he said, I'd guess he was inside that void, just by chance really, when…well…I guess that's why he's still alive. None of the normal rules seem to apply inside that never-never land."

"I guess," Iolaus replied distantly, still thinking about his twin. "We have to give him a chance, Herc. A chance for some kind of happiness. He bought the right to that a long time ago. And…I owe him," he said.

Hercules studied his partner, his own anger slipping away in the face of Iolaus' worry about the Jester. "We will," he promised. "But, he's going to have to help…have to relax a little around us. I'm not going to ignore you just because he gets jumpy every time he remembers you're around."

Iolaus snorted at that. "Give him time. I haven't given him a lot of reason to trust me yet. He'll come around," he said with a certain chagrin.

Hercules nodded, and they slipped into silence for a while, each locked in their own thoughts. Finding himself gazing absently at a leaf, the demigod straightened and stretched a little. "So…you come out here every night when the rest of us are sleeping, and what…practice?"

Iolaus chuckled quietly, "Yeah, I guess you could call it that. I discovered that if I can really focus that I can, I don't know, channel energy or something…and move things. Things bigger than a leaf."

"Things like a stone bench the size and weight of a boulder, and send it flying into a monster serpent," Hercules replied, one brow cocked.

"Uh huh, pretty neat, eh?" Iolaus grinned at him. "And, I'm learning that if I hold the thought, the focus, on myself, I can be a sort of wall, for a moment anyway. It's weird. I can't really explain it."

Hercules studied his friend, noting the pleased grin, understanding what it meant to Iolaus to be able to do something, be able to have some impact. Help. But… "Iolaus…back in the maze, after the trick with the bench, you looked…unsteady. Pale. What was that about?" he asked, concern in his eyes.

His buddy shrugged unconcerned, waving it off. "Oh that? That's nothing. Passes off in a minute or so. I've tried to understand it, but I don't really. I think that as invisible as I am, I must still have some kind of energy, and when I transfer it to do something besides just walk around, well…I can feel it. Happens all the time. Nothing to worry about."

"Uh huh," the demigod replied thoughtfully. 'Happens all the time. Nothing to worry about.' He hoped that was true. But wondered if he shouldn't check with someone who knew a little more about these things.

First chance he got, Hercules resolved that he and Hades were going to have a little chat.

* * *

They discovered the next morning that the Jester was a pretty fair cook…better than fair. Down right great! He'd gotten up early to prowl around the kitchen, feeling diffident but determined to make himself useful. By the time the Jason and Hercules got up, the enticing fragrances of baked bread and sizzling sausages wafted about the cottage. As soon as the other world's Iolaus knew his new friends were awake, he poured out an egg, cream, herb and cheese mixture onto a hot skillet over the flames of the hearth, tossing in some chopped up mushrooms for good measure.

When the two heroes entered the kitchen, he was serving up the delectable breakfast, setting plates on the table he'd covered with a linen cloth he'd found in a cupboard, along with cups of freshly squeezed oranges he'd picked from the orchard out back. Other fruits had also been gathered and filled a basket in the centre of the table.

"Well, now," Jason remarked with a broad grin, rubbing his hands together as he took his place, looking up at the new Iolaus with a twinkle in his eyes, "I guess we'll keep you! The other guy never cooked like this!"

Iolaus snorted from his position leaning on the hearth, unoffended, knowing Jason was pulling his chain as much as he was making the other Iolaus feel wanted and welcomed. "Other guy!" he snorted again, then grinned at Hercules. "He's been up for hours, prowling around, fixing this feast for you guys. I hope you enjoy it!"

Settling in to his own place, Herc raised his cup of juice to salute the chef, and then his invisible friend, before he drank. The Jester looked toward the hearth, an unreadable expression in his eyes, then turned to take his own place. "I just hope everything tastes alright," he murmured, eyes cast down. "It's always tricky using someone else's skillets, to know how they hold the heat…." His voice faltered away.

Hercules smiled warmly as he reached for the bread, to break it apart and share it around. "Still warm," he commented, pleased. "This is great, Iolaus…and if you know enough to appreciate the difference between skillets, something none of us have the skill to worry about, well, you must be as good as any professional cook."

Iolaus drawled from the corner, "Probably a whole lot better, if Falafel is any example."

Hercules grinned in response as he took his first bite and sighed with pleasure, making a kind of chorus of unfeigned delight with Jason. The Jester looked up then, his eyes first hopeful, then pleased.

"That's it…you're the cook," Jason remarked, digging in. "Permanently, as far as I'm concerned."

Smiling tentatively, the Jester bobbed his head, feeling happier than he could ever remember.

* * *

They stayed close to the cottage and the nearby fields and woods for the next couple of weeks. Although they didn't say anything to the Jester, they were all a little afraid of how people would react to him when they first met him. Either they'd think he was the ghost of Iolaus or the demon Dahok returned to take revenge. Neither reaction was likely to reassure the anxious man.

Jason and Hercules took turns heading into town and chatting up neighbours in the area, to explain to them who this Iolaus was, so by the time they finally decided to take the chance of him being seen in town, most people took him in stride. But, just in case, they'd taken the precaution of warning the Jester that some folks, strangers in town for example, traveling merchants and craftsmen, might mistake him.

It was a good thing they'd done so.

They'd been wandering around the market square, the Jester admiring the abundance of goods and foods on display, the peaceful nature of the town and the good-natured teasing between his friends and the strangers he was meeting, when he inadvertently bumped into someone when turning around too quickly.

"Sorry! I'm sorry," the Jester apologized, wincing a little in unconscious reflex, waiting for the kind of reaction he'd've gotten in his own world.

The stranger turned, at first unconcerned, until he saw who'd he'd banged into. Paling to a ghostly gray, his eyes widening, the slightly balding traveling salesman gobbled a bit as he lifted a hand to point at the Jester. "Iolaus?" he finally squeaked, his voice an unlikely mixture of hope and horror.

Stiffening a little, the Jester shook his head quickly. "No…I'm not who you think I am. I just look like him," he explained, his words almost tumbling all over themselves. "Uh…did you know him?"

Blowing out a breath, trying to get his trembling under control, the stranger replied, "Yes…yes I did. Very well, in fact. I'm Hercules' biographer…Salmoneus is the name. My, my, my," he continued patting his heart, "…you gave me quite a start!"

"Sorry," mumbled the Jester, looking around, then pointing, "Hercules is over there."

Turning to follow the gesture, Salmoneus nodded and smiled, "So he is! Excellent! I was hoping I might find him here, visiting Jason…you know, the ex-king of Corinth, Captain of the Argo, the man who led the Argonauts to bring back the Golden Fleece…." He looked back at the uncanny double of Iolaus, to see if the man was impressed that he knew so many important people.

The Jester smiled a little diffidently. "I know…well, at least, I know Jason. I'm staying at his place," he explained.

"Are you?" Salmoneus replied, a look of speculation blossoming in his eyes. "Are you sure you're not Iolaus?" After all, it wouldn't be the first time the warrior came back from the dead. He scented a story here…could make a tidy sum!

"Oh, he's Iolaus, alright," Hercules said from behind his 'biographer'. "Just not the one you mean. The one you remember is over there, with Jason, looking at the swords."

"What? REALLY?" Salmoneus turned to scan the crowd, frowning when he spotted Jason but no Iolaus. "I don't see him…" he muttered.

"No…you can't see him. He's a ghost," Hercules explained, sharing a conspiratorial wink with the Jester as he waited for Sal's reaction.

"A GHOST! You're not serious!" Salmoneus protested, turning to look up at Hercules, partly indignant, partly disbelieving, partly hurt to be teased this way. "That's not nice, Hercules. For a minute there, I really hoped he was back."

Suddenly contrite, Hercules apologized, "I'm sorry…I guess it's a shock. I've gotten used to it. Iolaus helped me defeat Dahok, and then refused to go back to the Other Side. So, we've been traveling together again…" He sighed a little, looking across the busy square at his friend. "It's different, I'll admit. Hard when no one can see or hear him but me. Lonely for him."

"Oh dear," Sal sighed, sympathetic as he again cast his eyes in the direction of Jason. "That's…really very sad, isn't it? Such a fine man…very sad. You must tell me all about it, Hercules, so that I can write the story. Others should know."

Hercules looked down at Sal, appreciating the sympathy, knowing it was genuine…but wondering at the persistent avarice that plagued the man's soul. Sal just couldn't seem to help himself. No matter what it was, so far as Sal was concerned, there was a way to turn it into a profit. But, maybe the idea of writing up this story wasn't such a bad idea, after all. The faster folks learned what had happened, and who this new Iolaus was, the easier it would be on all of them.

The other Iolaus had been watching and listening. His counterpart had helped to defeat the demon he'd heard about? Refused to return to the Other Side? And clearly had been someone this stranger mourned for all his interest in turning the news to his own gain. Well, it wasn't really a surprise, and it made sense of the jumbled memories he'd acquired when they'd merged together. His twin had been a hero, after all. Still was, considering how he'd help defeat the Sovereign and Nebula, even if he had needed a body to do some of it. Someone everyone had admired…for good reason. Not like him.

Hercules held back a sigh at the thoughts he could read so well on that so familiar, yet infinitely strange, face. Well, at least he hadn't twitched and jumped as soon as Iolaus had been mentioned this time. They were making progress. Gathering up his friends, he guided them through the crowd to join Jason and his partner…and to find a tavern.

It would take a while to give Sal all the details he could ever want for his new scroll…and they were bound to get thirsty with all the talking.

* * *

The last they saw of Sal, he was scurrying off to buy a large roll of parchment. Hercules had chuckled and Iolaus had just rolled his eyes. That had been two days ago. They'd done a little fishing since, giving the Jester lots of time to get acclimatized to his new world. But, Iolaus was getting restless. It wasn't that he didn't like hanging around with Jason. Some of his best memories were in that cottage, and in the forests round about.

But, it also reminded him constantly that he wasn't really there anymore. He was trying not to let it get to him. It had only been a few weeks and he knew he had to adjust. He'd chosen this existence, after all. And, he wasn't sorry. It was just so hard to not be able to, well, actually fish. Or have a mug of ale. Or join completely in the conversation, any conversation. He took to roaming more and more alone. It was easier somehow.

That evening he'd gone out during the dinner, lightly grilled fish with panfried zucchini, tomatoes and mushrooms, baked eggplant and crisp white wine, just slipping away when they were all laughing about how the Jester had wrestled with a particularly stubborn fish…only to haul in an old boot. As he tromped over the fields, he reflected that he was glad the Jester seemed to be settling in…then castigated himself for the nickname he'd given his double. Iolaus…his name was Iolaus. He should think of him by his name. 'My name,' he thought. 'My face, my voice….' It was disconcerting, more than he'd thought it would be. Stopping by the lake, near the old fort he and Herc had built from stone when they'd been kids, he tried to distract himself by concentrating on skimming stones across the surface of the water. He was getting better at it, but nothing as good as he'd been before….

Sighing, he sat down on the bank. 'Am I jealous?' he wondered. 'Maybe…' he was honest enough to allow. 'Get over it!' he sternly told himself. 'That poor guy could live another fifty years and not have the life you had…and his memories are a whole lot worse.' Biting his lip, he realized it wasn't just the Jester…Iolaus! It was everything.

And, now, he really was beginning to regret his decision about not going back into his body. The other guy seemed to be able to wander around without people stoning him. And, when Iolaus looked at him, he didn't see Dahok…just the face that used to be his. He rubbed the back of his neck and pushed fingers through his curls. Too late now. Now and forever.

Gods…it was going to be a long time.

"Stop it!" he growled aloud, annoyed with himself, with his despicable self-pity.

"Stop what?" Hercules asked from behind him.

Iolaus jumped and whirled around. "Gods! Don't sneak up on me like that!" he complained.

"What? You're afraid of ghosts?" Hercules teased.

"Maybe…they aren't all nice guys like me, you know," Iolaus griped.

"I know…seems to me we've created a few really nasty ones over the years," his friend replied, taking a seat beside him on the ground. "Stop what?" he asked again.

Iolaus looked up at him, but his eyes fell away and he looked back out over the lake, glimmering rose now as the sun went down. "Nothing important," he mumbled. "How'd you find me?"

The demigod shrugged as he too studied the lake. "I didn't really…just thought you might have come out here. Thought I'd check and got lucky."

"You don't have to chase after me, you know," Iolaus informed him, a little stiffly.

"I know," Hercules replied blandly, cutting his friend a quick sideways look, not missing the signs of tension. "Want to talk about it?"

"Not really…won't change anything," Iolaus replied, pulling his knees up and crossing his arms over them.

"Okay," the demigod replied and sat silently, apparently relaxed, enjoying the evening. But he knew that stance well…the all closed up, 'you can't make me talk' posture and expression. Waiting, he knew Iolaus would talk in his own good time.

Iolaus made a face as he shook his head. It was the 'sure, fine, whatever you want,' silent treatment. But, he knew Herc wouldn't leave until he'd spilled whatever had caused him to virtually sneak away, like he'd been doing too many times lately.

"I'm sorry," he finally sighed. "I don't want to…to give you reason to worry about me. You really don't have to…I'm working on it. I'll…get used to this."

Hercules bowed his head for a moment, nodding slowly. Turning to Iolaus, he asked, "How are you going to get used to it? When?"

Irritated, Iolaus shrugged. "I don't know, give me a century or two. What's the rush?"

"Okay," the demigod replied again. "However long it takes. Whatever I can do to make it easier…"

Growling low in his throat, Iolaus stood to pace, restless, wanting to hit something, touch something.

Frowning, Hercules watched him, wondering what he could do or say. 'Not much,' he decided. "Are you sorry?" he asked, not wanting to, afraid of the answer, but needing to know.

Iolaus stopped pacing to lean against the tree, taking care to not lean through it. It was a good exercise in balance. Just trying to appear 'normal', look 'normal', if only to Hercules, was an effort sometimes. 'Am I sorry? About what? Being dead? Being a ghost? Bringing the Jester back with us?' he wondered just exactly what the question was about, and decided it was probably about all of it.

"No. Yes. Gods, Herc…I don't know," he sighed. "I'm not sorry to be here…not at all. There's no way I'd ever want to go back to Elysium. Not for anything. But…I get tired of being invisible, you know. It's easier just to come out here, sometimes, where I can forget because there's no one out here who can't see me or hear me." Sighing, he shrugged, "I guess I'm not a very good ghost, that's all. But…I'll get used to it, eventually."

"We could leave him here with Jason…it has to be hard on you, seeing him all the time, seeing him do things you can't do…" Hercules murmured.

"Nah…that wouldn't be right," Iolaus replied, skimming another small stone across the lake. "He'd feel like he was imposing on Jason, that he was a burden on us. I don't want him to feel like that. I'll work it out. Don't worry."

"He's not as nervous about you anymore," the demigod observed.

Iolaus smiled at that. "I noticed. I guess he's beginning to trust that I won't just jump in and take him over. Keep reassuring him that I won't do that again." More softly, he added, "Not even knowing how good it felt, to fight like that again, to feel…I'd never do that to him again."

Hercules nodded, looked away over the horizon. 'A century or two…' Iolaus had said. Maybe.

But, somehow, the demigod didn't think a thousand years would be enough. Iolaus needed a body. This half-life wasn't good enough. Not nearly good enough.

Sighing, as he looked up into the darkening sky, he wondered if there was anything he could do about that. Any way he could bargain to make Iolaus whole.

* * *

"Told ya," Ares said, crossing his arms and cutting Zeus a hard look. "It's starting already. Won't be long now before my baby brother comes whining for a favour."

"Hmmm," Zeus reflected, stroking his beard.

"And once good old Hercules realizes his buddy is doing himself no good, pushing his energy reserves to the limit…well…that's when it's going to get really interesting," Ares continued, pushing, knowing he was getting under his father's skin. "I told you…."

"Yes, I remember what you told me," Zeus replied a little testily as he flashed away.

The God of War grinned to himself. The old guy really hated to have to pay attention to mortal affairs, preferred to think things would always work out on their own. Didn't like problems. Didn't like 'interfering'… thought it set a bad example for the rest of them. It was like a free pass…every time Zeus broke one of his own rules, everybody else got the chance to interfere to their hearts' content. Annoyed the hell out the King of the Gods.

Chuckling, amusing himself with various ideas of the kind of 'interference' he'd like to engage in, Ares figured it wouldn't be long now…certainly not so long as a century, however fast one would fly by.

Those two guys just didn't have that kind of patience.

* * *

Iolaus might have thought he'd just slipped away, but for a ghost, his presence wasn't quite as ephemeral as he'd thought. Hercules hadn't been the only one to notice when he was gone. The other two men did as well, though indirectly, it's true. They'd grown accustomed to the way Hercules routinely checked on his buddy, his eyes going to wherever Iolaus was every few minutes and the others almost always knew pretty much where the spirit was at any point in time. So, when Hercules had glanced up, frowned, then looked around, and frowned some more, they didn't need to be told that Iolaus had disappeared again.

Though Hercules didn't say anything, thinking he'd not concern them, he was distracted for the rest of the meal, and when he muttered something about taking a walk as soon as it was over, they almost tripped over one another to say what a good idea that was. But, he was already heading outside and didn't notice.

The Jester and Jason sighed simultaneously…and then Jason chuckled ruefully. "It's odd not to see him and yet know when he isn't there, isn't it?" he asked.

Nodding, the other Iolaus stood and began to clear the table. Getting up to help him, Jason studied the other man thoughtfully. "Does it really bother you so much to have him around?" he asked.

Startled, Iolaus looked around at him. "I didn't know it showed!" he said, mortified.

"Oh yes," Jason assured him. "Not that Hercules minds that much, nor do I suspect does Iolaus. Though, you seem to be getting used to the idea."

Sighing, the Jester filled a large basin with water from the barrel in the kitchen and set the dirty dishes into it. "I…well…it's just that, well, a lot of things, I guess. I feel bad that he's dead. He…well, I could tell from his memories that he's someone I'd respect a lot."

"His memories?" repeated Jason, confused. "How would you know anything about his memories?"

"Well, when they first arrived in my world, a fight broke out with the Sovereign and the Empress almost immediately…and, well, when Iolaus took over my body the first time, I was too terrified to even know who or what had done that to me. But, the second time, I was prepared, and, well, I could sense his memories, his thoughts, feelings. He hates being a ghost, you know. Really hates it." Iolaus explained, washing the plates and setting them on the counter, where Jason picked them up to dry and put away.

"He took over your body? Twice?" Jason exclaimed. "That doesn't sound like Iolaus."

"I know…I could tell he felt badly about it. There wasn't much choice at the time. Once I'd calmed down, I realized that," the Jester allowed. "But, I think he still thinks it bothers me. It doesn't."

"But the fact that he hates being a ghost does bother you, doesn't it?" Jason probed, wanting to understand.

Nodding, Iolaus replied, "Yes, it does. It's not right…not that he's here, I mean. I can understand why he wouldn't go back to your Underworld. It's not right that he's dead at all. Or that being here, can't be, I don't know, really here." 'And I am,' he thought to himself, miserably.

Jason chewed his lip, scratched his cheek as he wondered, "Is part of what bothers you the idea that he might resent that you're alive when he isn't?"

"Yes!" Iolaus snapped, surprising himself with his vehemence, slapping his hands into the water. Not looking at Jason, he admitted, "Why wouldn't that bother him…it bothers me."

"It's not your fault that he's dead…you shouldn't feel guilty for still being alive," Jason murmured quietly.

Turning to face the ex-king, Iolaus blurted, "Why not? Why shouldn't I feel guilty? He was a great man, a hero…helped all kinds of people, killed monsters…why should he be dead and somebody as worthless as me still be alive?" His face was white with strain, his eyes haunted. Looking away, he mumbled, "I wanted to die so badly…I sometimes wonder if just wanting it so much was what got him killed."

"Stop that!" Jason growled, taking the Jester by the arm, forcing the smaller man to look up at him. "Iolaus wouldn't ever want you to think something so ridiculous! That demon Dahok killed him, not your thoughts! Gods...I know enough about what your world was like to know it was Tartarus. Both Hercules and Iolaus can only be glad to have gotten you out of there! Glad that you have a chance for a decent life! Don't blow it by feeling a guilt that's not yours to bear!"

"But…" the Jester tried to object.

"No 'buts'!" Jason commanded, not realizing in his frustration how much he still sounded and acted like the king he once was. "Look, I know it's hard. We all wish he was completely whole. But, he's not. We're lucky to have him back at all. But…don't you see? He's trying to give you the space to get comfortable by giving up what little space he has. For his sake, if not your own, you have got to get over this morbid sense of guilt! It's not right, not for either of you! You're in a new world. You have a chance to have a good life. Take it! Be glad for it…and both of them, me too, for that matter, will only ever be glad for you."

Swallowing, the Jester stared at Jason, then looked away. Breathing heavily, feeling sick that his behaviours had only made things more difficult for his counterpart, he licked his lips and pushed his fingers through his hair. Jason was right…he'd been acting like the fool he'd been for so many years he'd all but forgotten how to be anything else. Damn it! Sighing, he nodded, and straightened his shoulders. Well, that would change as of now. Steeling himself to look Jason in the eye, he said solemnly, "I am glad of it. I've never been happier than I've been these last few weeks. I should have made sure all of you knew how grateful I am."

Shaking his head, Jason smiled at him then. "Don't be grateful," he said gently. "That's not at all necessary. You don't owe any of us anything. Just…just enjoy having this chance. Okay?"

Smiling tentatively in return, the Jester nodded, as he replied, "Okay…I'll try."

Jason snorted, knowing it wasn't easy for the other man to let go of feelings that pretty much defined who he was, and that this was as good as he was going to get. Clapping Iolaus' shoulder, he chuckled, "Well, I guess that'll do for now."

* * *

The summons found them the next day, the messenger having heard Hercules was in Thebes. It was from the Headmaster at the Academy, a man named, Elias, and it indicated the demigod was needed there, urgently. "Well, Jason, this has been fun, but looks like duty calls," Hercules looked again at the note, wondering what could be so urgent at the Academy.

"Hmmm," Jason murmured, then clearly came to a silent decision. "I think I'll tag along. No reason not to, and I'm curious, too." Turning to the Jester, he studied the man thoughtfully, then made another decision. "Iolaus, we'll be traveling fast. You'll be more comfortable if you exchange those boots of yours for old ones in the closet in your room. There're some clothes in there, too, that'll fit you. Not new, but not as heavy in this heat as what you're wearing," he said matter-of-factly.

But, the Jester blanched a bit anyway. Take Iolaus' things? Unconsciously, his gaze turned to the empty wall by the hearth.

"Tell him Jason's right, Herc. Tell him I don't mind," Iolaus said quietly, understanding and appreciating the question in the other man's eyes…the unspoken request for permission to make use of clothes and boots he no longer needed.

Hercules relayed the message, also trying for an easy tone, but he found it hard. The Jester nodded a little, then surprised them all when he asked, still looking at that empty place by the hearth, "Would you come back to the room with me? Show me what you think would be best? If you can toss a stone bench, I guess you can pull out a shirt or a pair of pants."

Iolaus grinned at that, it was a nice courtesy. For an answer, he strode down the hall and pushed open the door to the bedchamber…sharing clothing, giving it away personally was a lot different than feeling as if it was just being taken. When they heard it creak, Jason observed with a chuckle, "Well, get a move on. Sounds like he's waiting for you and we should be going."

With an uncertain smile, the Jester headed down the hall. When he entered the chamber, he found a pair of boots lying on the floor outside the open closet door, a pair of old but sturdy pants piled on the bed and a blue cotton shirt was wafting through the air to join them. "Thanks," muttered the Jester as he sat to pull off his boots with the elaborate curled tips. Exchanging the clothing, he found Jason had been right. Iolaus' fit him perfectly, even down to the worn boots that were a lot more comfortable than his own.

Standing silently for a moment, he looked around the room, not sure now where Iolaus was. "I guess this isn't easy for you, but I want you to know that I appreciate everything…all of it. I wouldn't be here if you hadn't said I should come. And…in case you think I'm still upset about you using me to fight the Empress, well, I'm not. Not at all. In fact, I'm glad there was a way I could help, since I'm not much of a fighter on my own. Don't…don't ever think you make me nervous. I make me nervous. I jump at my own shadow. But, if…uh…well, you need to move in again, if there's a fight or something, you don't need to ask. And…well, if sometimes you just want to be in a body that could as easily be yours…I won't mind."

Bobbing his head, embarrassed, the Jester turned to quickly fold his own clothes and put them away. Then, he headed out to join the others.

Iolaus stood there, stunned by what had just been offered to him, touched beyond words by such sensitive, incredible, generosity. The Jester had to know how much he hated this, more than anyone else could…he must have felt it when Iolaus had moved in the last time. Then, he chuckled a bit, murmuring to himself, "I offer to let you wear my clothes…and you offer to let me wear your body. What a guy."

Looking around, he spotted one of his old, good sized packs in the corner. Hooking it mentally, he dragged it out into the hall behind him and on into the kitchen. The others stared down at it confused as he wafted it up to the table. But, when a small jar of herbs joined it, and then a frying pan, Jason broke out laughing. "Trust you, Iolaus, to remember the food…and to make sure our master chef here has the stuff he needs on the trip!"

* * *

Even moving at a steady clip, it took two days to cross over the hills, and down along the isthmus past Corinth. But, it had been uneventful, no trouble. Until they were within a mile or so of the Academy…and were ambushed by about twenty masked, black garbed men. The attackers knew how to fight, but were no match for the seasoned warriors they'd taken on. Jason and Hercules slipped without thinking into the back to back stance, while Iolaus pulled weapons from their hands, and tripped them into one another. Even the Jester got in a few good licks, swinging his heavy pack with fear-induced desperation.

As fast as it had started, it was over, the bandits melting into the forest on either side of the road.

Blowing out a breath, Jason observed dryly, "Quite a welcoming party…or do you think it was just a coincidence?"

Shaking his head, still watching the forest warily, Hercules replied, "I don't believe in coincidences. We're too close to the Academy. That was a welcoming party, alright."

"More like a 'warning off' party, if you ask me," the Jester mumbled, examining his pack to see if he'd damaged it.

"Around here," Jason replied, looping an arm around the smaller man's shoulders, "that amounts to the same thing! Oh, by the way, Iolaus," he added, looking around, "nice moves. Scared the Tartarus out of them!"

For a moment, he could almost imagine he'd heard the delighted giggle.

* * *

Elias was already packed and ready to go by the time they arrived at the Academy…had been for days. He'd had enough, more than enough of the young turks who lorded over the other students and intimidated the whole staff. Had enough of feeling like a fool, a failure. Enough of being afraid for his life. Those youths were animals, wild and dangerous. He'd expelled them, for all the good it had done. They'd refused to go…had laughed at him! Oh, they might be the sons of wealthy men, spoiled, arrogant, too used to getting their own way…reasons, not excuses for their behaviour. Nothing excused cruelty. Well, it was enough and he was going.

But, he couldn't bring himself to go until there was someone who could deal with this, with them, and protect the other students. He had enough pride left, enough integrity for that. So, he'd sent for Hercules with a grim surge of satisfaction as he imagined how the hero would make short work of these young villains. Having imagined it, he didn't feel the need to stay and watch.

He'd had a watch kept for the hero's approach, and when the young student raced in to tell him the demigod was at the gates, he practically leapt over his desk to run to meet his saviour. Skidding out of the door at the top of the stone steps in the front of the building, he came to an abrupt halt, surprised to see Jason as well…and shocked to his boots to see Iolaus. Could it really be? But, his eyes narrowed as he descended the steps…something was different. The blond warrior wasn't wearing his usual attire, or his sword. And, he moved differently, as if anxious, his darting eyes scanning the grounds, taking in every thing and every one…not least of whom the swaggering youths dressed in black over by the stables.

Bringing his gaze back to Hercules, Elias held out his arms in relieved welcome, drawing the demigod's attention back to him. The tall hero had also been thoughtfully studying the small gang of youths across the yard. "Hercules! Thank the gods you've finally come!" Elias exclaimed. "And, of course, you, too Jason, and Iolaus…."

Turning to face the Headmaster, a man he'd known for years, Hercules frowned at the man's obvious state of near collapse. Deciding explanations about Iolaus could wait for the moment, he nodded, "Elias… what's going on here? What's wrong?"

"What isn't?" muttered the middle-aged man as he turned to lead the way back up to his office. "Come in, I'll explain."

And, explain he did, succinctly with bitterness and self-contempt embroidering his words. "So, that's it," he concluded, reaching for the packed bags in the corner. "I leave you to it, Hercules. I wish you well as the new Headmaster!"

"What?" exclaimed the demigod, not expecting to have it all just dumped into his hands. The problem he could handle…running the school was something else again. "Elias, please…you don't have to leave. This is your place. You're a good Headmaster."

"I was, once. But, I've had enough. I was a decent soldier, not a bad middle of the road officer. And, if I might say so, a good teacher. But, I'm tired…and I know when I'm out of my league. If I'd've been doing my job properly, things here would never have gotten so out of control. I'm sorry, but that's it. Good luck, Hercules," he said, with as much dignity as he could muster. With a nod at Jason and Iolaus, he hefted his bags and walked out without a backward glance.

Hercules blew out a long breath as he pushed harried fingers through his hair and looked at the others. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Jason couldn't resist a grin at Hercules' discomfiture and he wasn't quite fast enough at covering it with his hand. His eyes narrowing, the demigod shook his head. "You think this is funny, Jason? Well…how amusing is this? I may be a warrior, but I have no administrative experience. You have both. Congratulations on your new job!"

"Oh, now wait a minute, Hercules," Jason started to protest, all trace of humour gone.

But, Hercules just held up a hand, staving him off. "I'll help, we'll all help, clean this mess up…but you're in charge. So…what do you want done first?" he said, no room for compromise or even discussion in his tone.

Sighing, Jason looked from the demigod to Iolaus and his eyes sought the place by the window where he knew his other friend was standing. This had not been on his agenda. Teach him to tag along out of boredom with tending a garden and going to town on market day. Setting his jaw, he nodded. Well, so be it. Used to giving orders, willing to sort this out, at least until a proper Headmaster could be found, he turned first to the Iolaus from the other world. "I spotted some very young children out in the yard, younger than were allowed into the Academy when we were here. I want you to round them up, teach them what you can, and keep them safe, out of danger."

Before that Iolaus could react, he was turning back to the one he couldn't see. "And, you, I want you to do our undercover work. Those tough guys by the stable looked like they might well have been the ones who attacked us earlier. Go, listen in and see what you can find out. As soon as you've got something, let Hercules know so he can brief me."

Finally, he turned to look at Hercules, as he said crisply, "And, as for you…you're the new head of combat training and athletics. You will teach them discipline and deal with infractions. Push those spoiled brats until they stop sneaking around and push back. I'm going to go out now, with the rest of you, and read them the riot act, let them know a new regime has just begun. Then, I'm going to meet with the rest of the staff and inspect the place. We'll get together later in the staff mess and discuss what we've all found so far over dinner. Any questions?"

The Jester was regarding him with a kind of awe, never having seen Jason in full commander mode before, and though he didn't have a clue about what he was going to do with a pack of kids, he wasn't about to start asking questions at this point. He'd think of something…Jason expected him to be able to handle this and he was determined not to let his new friend down. Hercules just grinned and gestured to the door, ready to follow his new Headmaster anywhere.

Jason smirked at the teasing expression on Hercules' face, and growled, "Don't push it, buddy," as he turned to lead the way back out to the courtyard.

* * *

Minutes later, Jason was addressing the gathered body of staff and cadets, standing on the top of the steps looking out over all of them, Hercules on his right, Iolaus on his left…and though he couldn't see him, he was pretty sure his spy was already mingling among the insolent youths loitering near the front of the gathered assembly. Hands on his hips, he spoke clearly, his voice carrying with the unmistakable note of a man well used to being obeyed without question.

"Headmaster Elias has been called away on urgent personal business, and does not believe he will be able to return anytime soon. In the meantime, I am assuming his duties. My name is Jason. I think most of you know Hercules, who I've asked to take on responsibility for combat instruction and athletics. And, this is Iolaus, who will take over the teaching of the younger cadets. I expect all of you to work with us in restoring order and discipline to this Academy. This institution has a fine reputation that I intend to see is maintained and that all of you get the education you came here for. This is Cheiron's Academy, and I'm proud to be one of its alumni. He set a standard of excellence second to none…when graduates walked out of those gates, they knew they were the best in Greece…and the rest of Greece knew it, too. I honour his memory, and I expect you to do the same. Together, we'll ensure this Academy will continue to be all that he made it. You have your schedules, you know where you are to be this time of day. See to your duties. Dismissed."

One of the bold young turks called out, his voice dripping with feigned respect bordering on contempt. "Uh, allow me to say, sir, it's an honour to be under your direction. You won't have had a chance to learn this, but some of us have been helping out around here, you know, contributing to the running of the school. You can count us to keep doing that."

Jason returned the youth's arrogant gaze, bristling at the obsequious tone, and his eyes hardened. "Thank you. But, you are here to learn and I expect that to take all of your time and energy. The staff are more than capable of 'running the school'." Looking up at the rest of the gathering, he continued, "You are all equals here, students come to learn, to do your best. I'll have none thinking they enjoy superior privileges. You older boys have a responsibility to set a good example for the rest." Looking back at the youth who had spoken, he concluded, "Don't disappoint me."

With that, he turned and re-entered the building, leaving Hercules and his two Iolausii to their duties. He had his own to see to.

"Wouldn't want to disappoint you, sir," the trouble-maker sneered under his breath, eliciting snickers from his compatriots.

As the others moved briskly away to their classes and the gym, the twenty older students lingered around their leader. "We're not just going to take that, our we?" one whined.

"Don't be an idiot," their leader snorted. "That old guy'll fold just like the other one did. This place is ours."

Iolaus quirked a brow as he observed, "Well, you're either a whole lot braver, or a bigger fool, than I am. I wouldn't mess with Jason when he's in that mood."

But, they didn't hear him, and so they blithely carried on with their muttered oaths of how they had no intention of giving up the control they had exerted over the others for the past month.

As Hercules strode down the steps, he glanced at Iolaus, who nodded succinctly as he shifted a knowing, contemptuous look at the youths. "They're trouble, all right," he affirmed.

Moving in on the bullies, Hercules deliberately stood too close to the ringleader, pushing into the guy's personal sense of turf. "Your name is…?" he asked, his voice cold, his eyes hard.

"Zylas," the youth replied, not backing down. "Sir."

Flicking his eyes at the others, Hercules asked, "And what do your schedules say about where you're supposed to be now?"

"In the gym, sir. We were of course just waiting for you," the kid replied, a tinge of a taunt in his voice.

"Then, let's go," the demigod replied, moving forward, which required the kid to either back down and move aside or stand and be walked over.

The kid backed down.

* * *

Staring out at twenty pairs of wide, very young eyes, Iolaus felt his throat go dry. Desperate, he tried to think about what he should be doing. He'd never spent much time in any classroom but the streets and he didn't have a very high opinion of what he assumed teachers to be. Stuffy and boring. At least, that's what he'd heard a lot of kids complain about back in the days when he'd thought they were all nuts to complain about anything, let alone the good luck of being able to get an education.

Sighing, he supposed he was supposed to be dignified. Not terrified. They were just kids! He was supposed to be the grown-up here. Sighing again, he turned to the slate board behind him and fumbled for a piece of chalk. Straightening his shoulders for all the world as if he were about to go into a battle from which he might never return, he announced to the class, "My name is Iolaus. Today we're going to review the alphabet. Who can tell me the first letter?" The silence droned on as the kids looked at him like he was an idiot and then at one another, some twitching, some pulling at their hair, all with bored looks on their faces. "Okay," he continued, his hands getting sweaty, "I'll get us started. Alpha," he said as he turned to draw the symbol on the board.

Turning back to the group of restless children, he asked, "Now, what word begins with alpha?"

Again they just stared at him and he began to wonder if they spoke Greek or maybe just didn't understand a word he said. Finally, one small girl took pity on him and raised her hand. "Yes!" he blurted, ridiculously grateful.

"Athena," the little tyke said brightly. "And, Bacchus starts with Beta…and…"

"And you already know all this stuff, don't you?" he sighed, defeated.

Solemnly, they all nodded at him. "Great," he muttered. "Okay…how about you tell me what you don't know."

One kid giggled. "How do we know what we don't know?" he asked, shaking his head of riotous black curls.

"Good question…you're pretty smart," Iolaus replied, making a face…and getting a few more laughs. "How about this…what do you see older kids or adults talking about that you don't understand, or doing something that you don't know how to do?

"Buying stuff in the market and you know, getting the right amount of coins back," one called out.

"Uh huh," replied Iolaus, pulling out empty pockets and looking at them woefully, "you know somebody who's got coins?" More giggles.

"Kissing!" a precocious little girl called out and all the guys, including Iolaus, groaned loudly. Giving her a sideways look, he said, "I don't believe that! I don't believe you don't know how to pucker up yer wips," he continued, puckering, "t' gi' yer Mama a kuss! Like dis!" And he gave the back of his hand a resounding smack…much to their collective delight.

"How to be a real soldier!" called out a boy, encouraged to put in his bit.

"A soldier?" Iolaus repeated, scratching his head. So far he was batting 0 for 3. No money, no girlfriend and definitely no soldierly skills. "Well…okay, the first thing every soldier learns to do is march. So, everyone up, on your feet, in a line right behind me…come on!" Benches scraped across the floor as the children bounced up and formed a ragged line. "No, no, not like that!" he chided, throwing back his shoulders, chin up, chest out, back straight, "in a straight line, with a straight back." They all mimicked him, the lads puffing out their chests. He nodded like an upright sergeant major, turned and promptly did a pratfall. They roared, some even clapped. Scrambling up to his feet, he called out in a parade ground voice, "For'ard March!" and he did an exaggerated march, knees coming high, arms swinging, as he led them around the room.

Once he'd used up some of their energy, he hustled them back to their seats. "What else," he asked, eager to see what they'd come up with next. Pleased, he saw more than a dozen hands waving in the air to get his attention, and he knew he had them. Grinning, he didn't even notice he wasn't scared anymore.

* * *

Jason heard a sorry tale of woe from the instructors, one after another, everything from not having the right or enough supplies, to overloaded curriculum responsibilities, to complaints about the older students, who were insolent and even intimidating. He dealt with them in short order, telling them to make a list of what they needed, to set priorities for the courses and to remember they were the adults, and adults didn't let kids get away with mouthing off. "If they give you more trouble than you can handle, send them to me," he directed, "but I expect a report on what you did to maintain order in your own class after I deal with them."

Chastened, encouraged, they each returned to their duties and left him to wander on his own. The place needed some superficial repairs, and a good cleaning up, but there wasn't anything that really worried him until he got to the music room…and found an armory. Flinging out the doors, he froze, shocked at first, then frowning mightily. "No wonder they don't have the proper supplies," he muttered, taking a rough inventory of the extensive and expensive weaponry. The place was stocked well enough to outfit a mercenary brigade, well beyond the needs of a military academy for youth. He'd write Iphicles first thing in the morning and offer his successor a bargain he knew the King of Corinth wouldn't be able to resist.

Ambling back to his office, deep in thought, he realized things had been going wrong here for some time.

Well, they were about to get back on the right track.

* * *

Meanwhile, Hercules was having an amusing time in the gym. It was pretty clear that most of the other students were scared of the blackclad bullies, warily keeping their distance and avoiding eye contact. Choosing to give them enough rope to begin hanging themselves, he paired one of the bullies with one of the others, matching as evenly as he could for size to give the decent kids a fair chance to not be hurt. They'd been trained as warriors and should be able to handle a certain amount of threat and intimidation, else they'd never make warriors.

Once he'd gotten them working out, some with blunted swords, others with staffs, still others wrestling barehanded, he kept watch, catching the cheating moves, and nailing them, one after another. "Fifty pushups!" he called, as he tapped each offender on the shoulder. "NOW."

They began to think he had eyes in the back of his head, calling out infractions that he couldn't possibly have seen with his back turned. They didn't know his partner was also watching and calling out to alert Hercules to those he'd missed.

Zylas was the last to fall, and he didn't take it well. Wheeling on Hercules, he held out his sword, snarling, "Make me."

Hercules rolled his eyes as his hand flashed up to clamp over the youth's wrist, squeezing until the sword clattered to the floor. "Now," the demigod repeated with a dangerously calm voice, "do you really want to take me on? Because, believe me, I'm more than willing and I'll wipe the floor with you. Or…is it fifty pushups?"

He waited, staring into the youth's eyes. "You'll be sorry for this," the kid snapped, trying to regain some measure of pride, knowing everything had stopped and everyone was watching, the silent tension thick around them.

The hero laughed coldly. "I don't think so," he replied, his voice smooth, confident…contemptuous. "On the floor, now."

Zylas steamed a moment more, then dropped, beginning his punishment…which became even more humiliating when Hercules stood over him, counting out loudly, "One…two…three…."

The implication being that he was either too stupid to know how to count to fifty, or was so much a cheat he couldn't be trusted to do what he was told. Or, maybe, it was just to make it all very clear as to who was the new boss in town. The youth's face was an angry, flushed, mask of fury as he fulfilled the command… all the while plotting his revenge.

* * *

"…fifty," Hercules called out, then reached down to haul the youth unceremoniously to his feet. Retaining his grip on the sullen bully, he called out to the rest, "I want those of you who merited the extra exercise to stay, the rest, dismissed."

Though curious, speculating in whispers the dismissed students cleared the hall quickly, leaving silence in their wake. Hercules studied each of the youths, noting the belligerent expressions, the slanted looks that didn't quite meet his eyes…felt their hostility. "Well?" he asked, his voice cold.

"Well what?" snarled Zylas, vainly pulling to free his arm. Gods, the demigod's grip was like a vise.

Hercules shifted his gaze to study the restless, angry youth as if he were an interesting variety of worm. "I'm wondering how stupid you think I am," Hercules replied coldly. And waited.

"Muscle bound freak," someone muttered, but the demigod didn't spot who it was. Didn't really care.

Hercules smiled, but it wasn't pleasant to see, as he looked at each of them in turn. "You know that I know that you were the masked cowards who attacked us earlier today. No one was hurt so I'm willing to let that pass. Those of you who are prepared to return tomorrow, to work honestly to the best of your ability, to learn honour and to find out what real courage is, are welcome to stay. Those of you who are not, pack your bags and get out tonight. Cowards, bullies, liars and cheats have no place in this Academy. Think about it."

With that, he let Zylas loose so suddenly the youth staggered. Without another word or backward glance, the demigod left the gymnasium, the door slamming behind him.

Zylas glared after him while he rubbed his bruised arm absently. "I'll kill you for this," he promised, his voice low and raspy, his face twisted with hate.

"You and whose army?" another jeered. "That's Hercules, you fool. He's invincible. Gods, he even took out Dahok."

Zylas whirled and smashed a fist into the youth's mouth, decking the kid. "Nobody's invincible," he snarled. "We'll pretend to go…but we'll be back, to burn this place to the ground. Nobody throws me out."

"He didn't throw any of us out," another pointed out. Holding up his hands, backing away to a judicious distance from Zylas, who'd turned on him threateningly, he continued, trying to be reasonable, "Look, he set it up so's it'd be our decision. None of us have to go. My father'd whip me half to death if I bailed out of here…I'm not going."

"You'll stay and cow-tow to a mealy-mouthed dogooder, bastard son of a worthless god?" Zylas jeered. "A used-up has-been king and that wreck that's all that's left of the runt? Well, not me. I've got more pride than that."

"Zylas is right," another chimed in. "We don't have to take nothin' from them. This place is ours. Time we took it back."

"Yeah? And how did you propose we do that?" the earlier skeptic challenged, suddenly weary of it all. Lording it over the place when that worthless Elias had been in charge was one thing. Taking on a demigod and a couple of the other most famous heroes in Greece was something else. "Count me out. C'mon 'Tonias, let's get out of here."

The one who's father would whip him, and the last speaker eased away from the group, and not turning their backs on the others, made their way to the door and out into the dusk. The kid who had been decked scampered out behind them.

Zylas looked at a weasel-faced kid, his eyes cold. "Take them out, tonight while they're sleeping, before they blow our plans."

The other kid just nodded, his arms crossed, his stance bored.

Waving them all closer, Zylas grunted, "This is what we're going to do…."

His thumbs hitched in his belt, Iolaus watched and listened, disgust written on his face, his eyes cold. These little monsters were going down.

* * *

Eighteen youths packed their gear, strapped on their weapons and sullenly swaggered out of the Academy gates. Oh, they'd debated staying, brazening it out, but the more lucid minds amongst them prevailed. The demigod would never believe they'd all submit to his authority, and if they stayed he'd be watching them, sticking to them like a burr to a dog. Better to come back in their own good time, with surprise as their ally.

One slipped back under cover of darkness, sneaking around to the dormitory, just about to enter when a large hand lifted him by the scruff of the neck, and a hard fist slammed down on his wrist, the knife he'd been carrying falling to the dust.

The would-be assassin tried to struggle but he was hopelessly outclassed in every category. A light rabbit punch to the jaw silenced him before he could wake any of the sleeping cadets.

When dawn came, and the weasel still hadn't returned, the other delinquents felt their first prick of disquiet.

Surprise was a fickle ally, and she often changed sides.

* * *

Jason reviewed the situation with his senior staff the next morning over breakfast. "So, according to their plans, we have three days," he reviewed, as he broke a roll of bread and picked up a chunk of cheese from the common platter.

The Jester looked up and around, biting his lip, then offered, if tentatively, "They'll change their plan…either come in sooner, or later…"

"Why do you think that?" Hercules asked, agreeing with him, but curious as to how he'd reasoned it out.

Having spent his life around devious and criminal minds, Iolaus had a fair idea of how they worked. "They'll think that guy you caught last night will talk. They'll just assume he'd betray them to save his own skin. So…they'll change the plan."

"I agree," Hercules nodded.

"So do I," Jason concurred. "That means we have to be ready for anything. Hercules, pick out whatever equipment you need from the armory and drill the senior cadets and those from the next class that you think have the best chance of holding their own against these wannabe warlords. It'll do them good to defend their own turf, to defeat those who had intimidated them. Iolaus," he continued, turning to the Jester, "your job is to make sure no harm comes to those children. Plan your route to safety from the classroom should an attack come during the day." Looking toward the far end of the table, he addressed the other Iolaus. "I know from the night that you came for me, Iolaus, that you can cover territory a lot faster than the rest of us. I want you to keep watch around our perimeter and warn us once you see them coming. I'll get the other instructors to organize the younger adolescents into a bucket and sand brigade, to be ready in case of fire. Any questions? No? Good."

As they parted company, the Jester felt an unfamiliar surge of pride that they'd listened to him…that they'd thought he was right and trusted his judgment.

* * *

While Hercules was gathering what he needed from the armory, the Jester was prowling the area around his classroom, trying to decide on the best escape route, the most secure place to take the children. He didn't know how he felt about his particular part in this campaign. He knew he wasn't a warrior, so it made sense to give him a task that involved running and hiding…but what if they were found, and he had to fight to save the children? It wasn't that he was afraid for himself…he was afraid for the children. Scratching the back of his neck as he considered the options, he also figured it might do the kids some good to think they'd done something to help…and in so doing, helped protect themselves. All his life, he'd been running, hiding, afraid. He didn't want these kids to learn that lesson. Being careful was one thing… feeling helpless was another.

The older and more skilled cadets drilled with sober deliberation, not wanting to admit even to themselves that they were afraid. Too young to know any better, they thought heroes were never afraid. They didn't know fear could be as much as an ally as surprise because properly used fear made certain you were as prepared as you could be.

The youngsters too young to fight but too old to hide were organized into bucket brigades and set to work digging and hauling sand to strategic locations in readiness should it be needed. It was hard work, and necessary. Though they'd rather have been getting ready to fight with the older cadets, they knew their efforts could save the Academy. Even if those losers were defeated, the buildings could all burn to the ground if they weren't ready.

Meanwhile, Iolaus had chosen the kitchen as the best shelter. There was a fruit cellar dug into its floor where the children could hide, safe from the raiders and safe from fire. And then, he'd put the children to work. Careful not to scare them, he also wanted to warn them so they wouldn't panic when the attack came. He explained that everyone in the Academy had a role, and they were going to take the bad guys by surprise, they were going to win, but they needed to be ready. Some he had haul clay vessels of water down into the fruit cellar, food and blankets, in case they needed to spend some time down there…like camping out. He reminded them not to forget to take candles down and flint, because it would be dark.

Others he got busy rigging booby-traps. Nets set to spring when tripped in the hallways, dropping from the ceiling. Heavy pots set to fall when intruders rushed unthinking through doorways. He made it seem a game, though a serious one, and the kids put all they had into it, coming up with creative traps and obstacles of their own. Once their preparations were complete, he drilled them over and over on how they would move from the classroom to their refuge, so there'd be no confusion when the time came.

Silent and unseen, Iolaus flitted from one location to another around the perimeter, keeping a close watch, waiting for them to come.

* * *

The first day passed without incident, as did the night, though few slept. Tension built the next morning as the defenders of the Academy waited for attack. Jason hoped it would come sooner rather than later. Waiting was hard. It frayed the nerves, exhausted everyone with lack of sleep. Those kids were too young to know that, and would be restless, wanting action, so he hoped they'd be reckless and attack sooner rather than later.

Few were hungry, picking at the cold lunch of pickles and cheese, bread and fruit. The day wore on, and Jason was beginning to think he might have underestimated the foe, that maybe they were smart enough to wait it out, when one of Hercules' cadets raced into his office.

"Hercules says they're coming!" the youth reported, his eyes anxious, but also fired with a kind of wild excitement.

"Good, we're ready," Jason replied as he stood, grabbing his own sword as he ushered the cadet to the door, following him out. "Return to your post."

"Yes sir!" the kid replied and flashed away, meeting up with one of his buddies who'd just finished warning Iolaus so the little kids could take cover. Youths were stationing themselves near the gate and around the inside of the walls, armed and ready, while their younger comrades took their stations, buckets in hand, either under the shelter of the stable, near the well, or in back, within the stone walls of the dormitory, near the sand they'd stockpiled, teachers ranged with them, to guide, supervise and ensure their safety.

Iolaus' charges were almost to the kitchen when the first flaming arrows soared over the walls, imbedding themselves in some of the roofs, sliding harmlessly off others.

"Idiots," Jason sighed to himself. Most of the roofs were slate and the buildings were stone for the most part. The stable caught, but not much else would burn. "They must have all slept through the classes on strategy and planning assaults," he muttered in disgust, regretting that some if not all of the young fools were likely to die before the day was over.

The attackers might have been young, and lacking in practical experience, but they were highly skilled warriors, the best of the senior class from that single perspective. Most swarmed in the main gate, but some came over the walls, using the force of their numbers to drive their former classmates back before the power of their attack. Smoke from the thatched stable swirled, acrid and heavy, while brave young cadets twisted through and around the combatants with water-filled buckets to douse the flames. Voices rang out, some in anger, some in pain, as the battle progressed…but the young fools really never had a chance.

Iolaus flitted back and forth, deflecting thrown blades, rolling to trip attackers, giving the stalwart Academy defenders an advantage. He was feeling strangely fatigued though, and a little dizzy, had been since before dawn. Shaking it off, he decided it was simply because he'd not done much 'flitting' before, zapping himself from place to place for more than a day and a night without pause, and it must take more energy than he'd thought. He'd worry about it later, rest when the battle was won.

Before long, it was clear that the battle joined at the main gate was virtually over, only a couple of the crazy violent kids left for Hercules to deal with. Piece of cake. But, as he slowed for a moment, and counted heads, Iolaus suddenly realized they were a few bad guys short. Frowning he looked back at the school buildings, then felt a jolt of fear. The kids? Where were the kids?

Snapping himself from place to place, he finally found them, and not a moment too soon. The booby-traps had slowed down the three attackers who'd snuck in the service entrance in the back, and a couple were rubbing their heads in fury at having been battered by kettles and pots. One was still cutting himself out of a net that had scooped him up in the hallway just beyond the kitchen entrance.

But, the two angry bullies had Iolaus cornered. He'd obviously taken a few blows, and his lip and a shallow slash on his left arm were bleeding, his shirt torn, but he stood determined between the two murderous ex-cadets and the trapdoor to the fruit cellar, where the children were currently safe. It was ridiculous, the warrior spirit thought, his twin was trying to hold off swords and daggers with a frying pan! Ridiculous…and impossibly brave.

"Back off, little man. We don't want to hurt the kids…just use them for bargaining power. Walk away and we won't kill you," one taunted, waving his sword.

"Go to Tartarus," the Jester replied, his throat dry, his face pale, clearly afraid but unwilling to abandon the children. His eyes flicked to include the third ex-cadet who'd finally extricated himself from the net he'd been tangled in, and now lined up with his comrades, an ugly serrated blade in his fist.

As his eyes raked the kitchen for ideas on how to intervene, Iolaus snorted, "Yeah, you're some coward alright…."

There wasn't time for a lot of strategy or to consider the various options available to him. The ruffians were lunging to attack, and his twin had no where to go. Iolaus stood on the trap door, near the corner of the kitchen, facing the bloodthirsty youths who had ranged themselves a few feet away from him, closer to the opposite wall. Between them was a solid wooden butcher's block, topped with a marble slab, sculpted to drain away blood when meat was being prepared.

Likely heavier by a good bit than the bench he'd thrown at the entrance at the maze.

But, then, he didn't have to throw it.

Just give it a little shove in the right direction.

When the three youths lunged forward, Iolaus concentrated with the full force of his will, pushing the impossibly heavy slab until it almost flew across the slate floor to crash resoundingly into the far wall, catching and crushing the bad guys in between wood, marble and stone. The agony of it pitched them into instant darkness.

The Jester jumped back, shocked, then realized what must have happened, and who had just saved his life. His eyes skittered around the kitchen, as he whispered a heartfelt, "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Iolaus mumbled, weakly waving off the gratitude, in his confusion forgetting no one could see or hear him, wondering why everything had suddenly gotten so fuzzy and gray. He swayed for a moment, then crumpled.

* * *

The two remaining attackers knew they had to take out Hercules if they were to have any hope of coming out of this ill-conceived plot with their skins in one piece. One whipped a dagger at the demigod, hoping to end it quickly.

Hercules plucked the deadly bolt from the air, flipped it and threw it back in a single fluid motion, catching the kid in the shoulder, bringing him down.

And that left Zylas.

Recognizing the crazed light in the youth's eyes of one who has lost grip on reason, Hercules waved everyone else back. Jason watched, anxious. Strength was fine, but that young maniac had a sword and looked like he knew how to use it. The cadets and teachers took in a deep breath and held it as they watched in rigid silence.

Laughing, just short of hysteria, Zylas stalked forward, his blade out in front of his body. "So, it's just you and me, eh, Hercules. Good…I told the others you were mine."

"Give it up, Zylas…you can't win this," Hercules warned, his hands out in front of his body, poised, ready.

"No?" taunted the youth. "Why, I've heard that you can bleed like any man…I'm going to take you down."

Lunging forward, he struck for Hercules' gut, but the demigod stepped back and twisted to the side, the blade narrowly missing him. Angry, Zylas whipped it around and back toward the hero, who dropped and rolled under it, sweeping up a sword that was lying in the dust, abandoned in the earlier stages of the battle. Raking it up and back over his head, he blocked the downward sweep of Zylas' blade. The swords clanged together and scraped apart, as Hercules came up and around, his blade balanced and ready. He cocked his head and quirked a brow as he offered again, "Surrender now. I don't want to hurt you."

Snorting, Zylas shook his head. "Everyone knows you never use weapons…you're no swordsman."

Hercules lifted his head a little, his eyes narrowing as he waited for the next attack. When it came, he flicked his wrist, catching the other blade with his own, twisting it violently so that it was pulled from Zylas' hand to fly a little way away until it dropped to the dust. Taking a quick step forward, Hercules laid the tip of his sword against the kid's throat.

"Just because I choose not to use weapons doesn't mean I don't know how," he said quietly. "Be grateful you're still alive."

The frozen tableau of observers broke then, as two cadets came forward at Jason's signal to grab Zylas and bind him. His defeated followers were gathered up and led away to the tack room of the stable, where they could be securely locked up until the authorities could be sent for.

Jason and Hercules stood a moment, watching, glad it was over with minimum bloodshed…and then they came to the same realization at the same time. There weren't enough of them! Hercules cast a quick look around the yard wondering where Iolaus was…not seeing him.

"Gods…" Jason swore at the look of alarm in the demigod's eyes, and then they were both racing for the kitchen, where they knew the children had been hidden.

* * *

Iolaus had quickly reassured the children, but wouldn't let them leave the cellar until he was certain the battle for the Academy was over and won. He looked up in alarm at the heavy pounding of feet down the corridor, but relaxed as soon as he saw it was only Jason and Hercules. "We're alright," he called out, seeing the expressions of concern on their faces.

They slowed as they entered the chamber cautiously, mindful of the booby-traps Iolaus and his kids had set. When they saw the badly battered and unconscious attackers squished against the wall, Jason demanded, "What happened?"

"They were going to use the children as hostages…but Iolaus got here in time and slammed that thing into them just as they were coming at me," the Jester explained.

Hercules' eyes were raking the kitchen. Where was he? The demigod was about to turn away, to search elsewhere, when his eyes dropped and his breath caught. He'd almost missed it…a breath of what looked like a wisp of smoke curled about a foot off the floor…smoke? In here? "Iolaus!" he gasped, lurching forward and falling to his knees.

Jason and the Jester watched, eyes widening in alarm at his tone and the expression on his face as he stared at the floor, his hands reaching out helplessly, as he called again, louder, "IOLAUS! Answer me!"

His partner was gray, and there was no mistaking this time that he'd faded badly, was almost invisible even to Hercules. He lay crumpled, on his side, eyes closed, motionless…and the demigod was terrified. In all the time since Iolaus had been back, he'd never been anything but alert and usually solidly standing on his feet…never like this, so ephemeral, colourless and still.

The other two moved closer, their faces pale with alarm. "What is it, Hercules? What's happened to him?"

"I…I don't know. He's just lying here…and, he's almost faded away," Hercules replied, his voice shaking, his eyes dark with fear as he cut a quick glance up at Jason, then back down at his best friend. "I don't know what to do to help him."

Watching so intently, Hercules saw his friend's eyelids flutter and he relaxed a little when Iolaus' form became fully distinct again. "Iolaus! Wake up!" he called again, feeling like he might collapse himself from relief when his partner muttered, "Wha' happened?"

"You tell me, buddy, come on…that's it…you're okay," Hercules encouraged as Iolaus pulled himself into a sitting position, shaking his head against the persistent dizziness.

"Yeah…yeah, I'm fine," Iolaus reassured him, hearing the fear under the words. "Guess I must'a overdone it a little. Just give me a minute," he asked, his voice still weak as he lowered his spinning head to rest his forehead against the arms crossed over his upraised knees.

"Take all the time you need," the demigod answered, flicking a look of reassurance back up to Jason and his buddy's twin. "He's okay," he breathed with evident relief.

Jason rolled his eyes and blew out the breath he'd been holding. "Remind me to tell him not to scare us like this again," he sighed, relaxing.

The Jester turned to gaze at the heavy butcher's block and he frowned, biting his lip when he wondered about how much saving his life, and the lives of the children had almost cost.

What did it mean when a ghost faded away?

* * *

Later that night, having ordered Iolaus to remain at the Academy to rest, Hercules set out to get a few answers. Iolaus, still feeling odd, fragile somehow, had agreed absently, preoccupied with the strange sense that he wasn't quite there, but was distant, remote, apart from the rest of the world. The aftereffects usually didn't last this long and it made Iolaus a little nervous because he couldn't understand it. But where Iolaus was distracted, Hercules was frankly terrified by what had happened. Determined to find out just how dangerous it was for Iolaus to be doing these things, and what he could do about the aftereffects, the demigod strode out across the rolling fields into the gathering dusk. About half a mile from the school, he stopped in the middle of the field and called out, "Hades! We need to talk!"

Hercules had been prepared to shout all night if he'd needed to, but his uncle appeared almost immediately. "You have to tell him to stop overexerting his energy, Hercules," Hades, his expression grim, said as soon as he'd appeared to the demigod.

"No kidding," Hercules replied with a look of exasperation. "What happened to him today?"

Hades looked away as he licked at his upper lip. Cutting a severe look back at the demigod, he replied, "He almost wiped himself out."

"Wiped…what does that mean?" the Son of Zeus demanded, his voice tight, anxiety flashing in his eyes.

Hades rubbed his brow as if he had a killer headache as he replied, "He'd be gone."

"To the Other Side?" Hercules demanded, not liking the way his uncle was avoiding his eyes.

"No…that's barred to him. Just…gone…out of existence…forever," the God of the Underworld clarified. "So…tell him to cool it…or lose it."

With that, Hades disappeared.

Hercules stared at the spot where his uncle had been for a long time, shaken…sick. Iolaus had almost… gods, it didn't bear thinking about! But, he couldn't stop thinking about it, couldn't stop seeing that image of Iolaus, faded almost to nothing. Stricken to his soul by his uncle's cold, dire warning, he was terrified he'd never be able to get Iolaus to 'cool it', not if his buddy thought he needed to do something to save someone else.

Hercules felt as if the world had shifted around him, the solid ground at his feet crumbling away, leaving him once again at the edge of the chasm of emptiness and unendurable loss. One false step, one wrong move and Iolaus would be gone…

Gods….

* * *

Ares was waiting for Hades when he flashed back to his domain on the Other Side.

"I don't recall having invited you," the irritated god said, brushing past his nephew. Dammit, he didn't want to, but he cared about that stubborn little soul and it sickened him to think that even that last bit of Iolaus, the soul of all he'd been, could just fade away into nothing. Worse, the God of the Underworld believed it would happen, inevitably, because Iolaus had no clue how to act against his nature, how not to render aid to the limits of his power, regardless of the consequences to himself. The last thing Hades needed right now was the questionable pleasure of his sardonic nephew's company.

Smirking, Ares called after him, "I just wondered if you'd be interested in a little wager about how long it'll be before Hercules starts whining for help and Zeus caves in."

Hades paused, his back to the God of War. Disgusted, he flung over his shoulder, "Don't you have a war to fight somewhere?" Then he continued into his private chambers and slammed the door.

Ares laughed.