Iolaus' head snapped up as a largish rock zinged past his left ear and into the river. "I know, I know," he grumbled as Hercules strode triumphantly past him to haul their dinner out of the water by its tail. "My way takes too long."

Hercules grinned and clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Well, this would have made the fourth day in a row that I let you have your fun, but I'm starving. Those bandits really helped me work up an appetite."

"Yeah, well, next time you go a couple of rounds with Ares, maybe we'll have whale."

Hercules looked around. The words were clearly meant as a joke, but the tone fell flat. "Are you ok?"

Iolaus smiled quickly. "Oh, yeah, fine."

Hercules gave him a disbelieving look. "'Oh, yeah, fine' as in 'fine,' or 'oh, yeah, fine' as in 'don't ask?'"

"It's nothing," Iolaus protested. "I'm just... well, I'm a little bored. Bandits, barn fires, baby-snatchers..."

"Bellyaching..."

"Oh, shut up," Iolaus snapped, but he was smiling. "What's next, a kitten in a tree?"

"That doesn't begin with B," Hercules deadpanned.

Iolaus groaned. "Oh, great, we've started speaking in verse. And I thought I could sink no lower."

"Look, Iolaus..." Hercules was suddenly serious. "I don't want you to be bored, but it's not like I'm gonna beg Hera for another Enforcer just to keep you entertained."

Iolaus shuddered. "Don't even go there," he muttered. "One was enough. Two was overkill. Literally."

"That's not funny," Hercules whispered. Iolaus was immediately contrite. "I know. I'm sorry. Look, I don't mean to be a... what was that word Salmoneus used?"

"Buzzkill."

"Yeah, one of those. But being around you, I've come to expect the unexpected, so it's kind of a letdown when the expected turns up instead, you know?"

"I know," Hercules agreed. "But I don't look at it that way. How often do we get to just spend time together?" He took a seat on the riverbank next to his companion, who was looking a bit sheepish. "No monsters trying to kill us, no vengeful gods trying to blast my name out of the family tree. Just the two of us, with a few minor distractions on the side to keep the peace treaties alive and the fishing trips short. I call it a nice little holiday."

"Oh, I know how fond you are of trips. Especially guilt trips."

Hercules laughed. "Did it work?"

"Only too well. You hit me where it hurts; in the conscience." Hercules' face took on a look of concern. The words had a bitter ring.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said, trying to sound dismissive. "We don't need to exchange words to know we enjoy each other's company."

"Hercules..." Iolaus bowed his head and let the words burst from him. "Don't get me wrong, you're my best friend..."

"But?" Hercules was suddenly afraid of the answer.

"But, well, lately I've been feeling like I'm not really living my life. I'm living yours."

Hercules was stunned into silence, but he managed to ask: "How long have you felt this way?"

"A while," Iolaus answered quietly. "Ever since we helped Nemesis and the baby, when Ares was after them. I felt as if I wasn't really supposed to be there."

"Iolaus, I couldn't have done any of that without your help!"

"I know it; I just can't make myself believe it, not really. Hercules, when we thought Evander was your son... I was so happy for you. You looked like you belonged with them, and it made me realize... I don't have anything like that. I don't mean a wife to cook for me or a son to take hunting and fishing with me. I mean someone to fight for."

"Isn't it enough just to help people, to save their lives or their homes, or their children?"

"It used to be," Iolaus admitted. "Seeing their smiles or their gratitude used to bring a smile to my face. And I'm still glad, but every time we save a stranger's life, it's 'thanks a bunch, see ya later.' And that's fine, except they walk back to their homes, and I just walk away."

"And you want someone who won't walk away." Hercules didn't trust himself to say more, but Iolaus felt the accusation underneath the tentativeness.

"I want someone to need me, Hercules. You don't, not really. We have a good time together, and we do important work. But we don't really—belong—to each other. And the people we help; well, they don't need me so much as someone, anyone, to help them. I don't want someone who needs my help; I need someone who needs me."

Hercules swallowed what felt like a rock in his throat; there wasn't any way he could convince Iolaus that these thoughts weren't necessary, and he wasn't sure he wanted to, either. Arguing someone out of their feelings was tricky at best and extremely suicidal at worst, and in any case, if Iolaus was so sure that Hercules didn't need him, then that must mean that Iolaus didn't need... "I do. I hope someday you realize that. Were you planning on telling me any of this, or were you just waiting until I asked?"

Iolaus was studying his bootstrings. "I was waiting to tell you until I knew what to do about it," he admitted. "And I don't. I just think... well, I think I might take a few weeks and... I was thinking of leaving for Corinth in the morning."

"You're going to visit my mother?"

Iolaus smiled. "No. Iphicles. Before we left, after helping him find a place for the returning soldiers, he called me 'brother.' He said his home was my home, if I ever needed another one." Iolaus glowed with pleasure at the memory. "I think I might stay with him for a while, help out at the palace. I hear his guards could do with some training."

"Yeah, well, considering how Ajax and his guys wiped the floor with them and took off with my brother, I'd say that's a pretty good bet." Hercules forced a grin, and the lightness of the moment just barely held.

"Hercules," Iolaus interjected, almost desperately, "I want you to know, I'll always—"

"I know," Hercules abruptly stopped him, holding up a hand between them. "I know. Let's just eat the fish and go to sleep. I can't talk about this anymore."