Have I mentioned that they're not mine, yet? All of this is just a product of my fevered imagination and some mild sleep deprivation.

Back on Olympus, Ares' temple shook with the force of his rage at being unable to help his nephew. Eris had scrambled to her feet as her son slipped into the turbulent waters, staring in abject horror at the images of his struggles. To regain her son only to lose him again? A scream clawed its way from her throat, dark eyes tracking rapidly from the mirror to her brother. The plea there tore at Ares' heart and he found himself in an unusual position. He found himself impotent, angry, and absolutely terrified- not for himself, not even for Strife... but for his sister's sanity. Should she lose her boy again, Ares feared she would never recover- and a broken Goddess of Discord? One shudders to think.

Awkwardly, he gathered his sister close, tucking her slim, leather-clad frame against his broad chest. Calloused hands patted gingerly at her back, a somewhat flustered God of War trying his best to comfort. Feeling somewhat out of his depth (which happened in most situations not involving a battle or a discussion on weaponry), he eyed the images in the mirror again and caught his breath.

"Eris, Eris! They're going to save him, look!"

Cautiously he manuevered the distraught Goddess around 'til she faced the mirror once again, and then both of them groaned in dismay.

"Not those two..."

Hercules and Iolaus had been on their way to a festival in Thebes. The tall demi-god had been muttering something about unnecessary festivals being thrown on behalf of some of his less-deserving relations. His companion, weary of that particular rant, darted up and clapped the bigger man on a well-muscled shoulder.

"Aw, come on Herc. Let's take a break, huh? There's a stream 'round here I know about. We can rest, fish... you can cook 'em, of course."

The blond hunter grinned, flashing his best puppy-dog look at his amused friend. The other man laughed, gesturing an overly energetic Iolaus off the path they were walking. The hunter darted through the underbrush, disappearing quickly. Hercules followed at a more sedate pace, chuckling at his friend's exuberance. Iolaus never was much for patience or for waiting around while a lecture about irresponsible Gods was being given.

Picking up his pace, Hercules swept through the tangled underbrush in attempts to catch his friend before the crafty hunter managed to get too far ahead. It would be just like him to already have set up a small camp, just so he could rib Hercules about being lazy. He burst from the treeline just behind the smaller man... just in time to see a slender youth tumble into the stream before them.

For a long moment, the two companions simply stared, watching a dark head bob up and down in the water. Iolaus broke from his shock first, kicking off his boots and diving in without a word. He struggled against the current and then relaxed, allowing it to carry his compact frame along toward the flailing youth. Watching the younger man's struggles slow, Iolaus bit back a curse and kicked, stroking smoothly forward. He caught at the stranger's clothes, trying to work an arm around his midsection. The hunter finally managed to hold onto the younger man, cursing again as he noticed the youth had gone limp.

"Herc! Help get him up!"

Stroking back toward the bank, Iolaus scrambled to maintain his grasp on the stranger and clutch at the bank, doing his best to hold them both steady 'til Hercules could draw them from the water. The demi-god rushed to help, tugging both waterlogged men from the stream with ease. Iolaus flopped back, breathing heavily, a sidelong glance cast to his friend.

"How...(puff, pant)...is...(huff)..he?"

Hercules stretched the slim frame out, casting a critical eye across the unconscious stranger. Too thin, far too pale, the hint of blue at his lips, and wasn't something about him familiar? The demi-god scowled and rolled the youth on his side, pounding gently on his back.

"Herc?"

Iolaus questioned again, trying to work himself upright to oversee the boy he had rescued. Not quite a boy, he corrected himself. Young man... at best in his mid-twenties. But he was so thin, and so pale. Perhaps a runaway slave? Sharing his friend's scowl, he eyed the stranger with a combination of pity and interest.

Strife awoke to a burning sensation in his lungs. Sputtering, he coughed up what felt like half the stream. With a gasp, he rolled onto his back and found himself staring into a weathered face... no, two weathered faces, suntanned from days spent walking. Startled, Strife attempted to scramble back only to fall back, clutching at his ribs. Breathing hurt!

"Easy, friend. We are no threat to you."

The voice was soothing, much as one would use on a recalcitrant horse. Weary, Strife sank back and allowed himself to be placated. Trying to focus his eyes, he peered across his newfound companions. Recognition slowly filtered through his tired mind, and he tensed slightly. If these two knew who he was... but they must not, or they would probably have allowed him to drown. Entertaining those dark thoughts, Strife allowed his eyes to sink closed. He was safe, at least for now. These two would watch over him, at least as long as he needed to rest... as long as they didn't find out who he was, who he had been, or who he had worked for.

Exhausted, Strife fell into an uneasy sleep.

Back on Olympus, Cupid could've wept in gratitude. He had been pacing his temple, wings fluttering in agitation. Watching his cousin's near drowning had been... painful, horrible, terrible, heart-wrenching. Hazel eyes narrowed as Cupid examined that emotion. He always enjoyed his cousin's company, true... the Mischief God had always been a source of entertainment, and every now and then the two had worked together. So when had he gotten so emotionally attached? Cupid sat back on his own backless throne, grateful that the temple was empty at this hour. He was confused and overwrought, and against his will, he was drawn to watch the scene still playing out in his own scrying mirror.

"Watch him, Uncle Herc... he needs a friend."

So it was that a very confused Love God set about doing something almost as unthinkable as the War God comforting a distraught mother- he decided to analyze his own feelings.

Meanwhile, Hercules and Iolaus had moved their slumbering guest back from the water's edge. The two constructed a hasty campsite, the hunter building up a small fire while Hercules did his best to catch a few fish after refilling their water skeins. Iolaus spared a glance for his friend, watching the large frame silhouetted against the setting sun. Smiling to himself, he returned attentions to their new charge.

Iolaus scooted over to the boy's side, checking on him again. He nearly yelped in surprise as blue eyes slitted open, a groan escaping the awakening youth.

"W-watah?"

Iolaus scrambled to comply, mentally making note of the strange accent. Easing an arm behind the younger man's shoulders, he helped him sit up and drink carefully from one of the skeins recently filled by Hercules. Settling the stranger back down, the hunter sat back and looked him over critically.

He was young, that much was certain. His frame was lanky, lean muscle overlaying a thin body. Pale skin contrasted with a tousled shock of black curls, pale blue eyes that were currently as large as plates and watching him as if...

"Friend, you don't have to be frightened of us. I'm Iolaus, and that's Hercules."

Iolaus gestured off towards the approaching form of his friend, glancing back to find the youth watching him warily. The run-away slave hypothesis was becoming more and more appealing. Sighing, Iolaus shuffled toward to rub a comforting hand across the youth's shoulders, both of which were shaking imperceptibly.

"And what might we be calling you?"

The question seemed to startle the young man, and he took to examining his borrowed bed roll. Thin shoulders hitched in a shrug, and both Iolaus and Hercules were left staring at the top of his head.

"Do you have a name?"

Taking the slave hypothesis and running with it, Iolaus made a quick gesture to his friend and moved to regain the stranger's attention. He caught what might have been a look of gratitude as the youth shook his head, dark curls obscuring those wide eyes for a moment.

"Fair enough. Well, Herc... what shall we call him, hm? He looks like a... Stamitos to me. Maybe a Galen?"

Hercules snorted, nudging his smaller friend in the back.

"He isn't a pet, Iolaus. Though I like Galen."

The shaggy blond spared a look that was almost wounded at his chuckling friend. He took a breath to argue with the demi-god only to be interrupted by a soft voice at his elbow.

"Galen is... nice. Thank yah."

The startled companions glanced to the newly-christianed Galen, both grinning widely. Galen tentatively returned the smiles, somehow looking as if he didn't use those particular facial muscles very often. This sobered the older two men somewhat, and they drew away- ostensibly to clean the fish Hercules was still clutching in one hand.

Strife-cum-Galen watched the two bandy words back and forth, vaguely interested despite himself. He had been surprised at the pains they had taken thus far on his behalf, and even more astounded that they didn't pry for answers. Seemingly, they were content to let him rest in silence.

Strife really didn't know what to think of the situation. Ares had never favored his half-brother, and most of the War God's underlings (which was pretty much the entire House of War) maintained a similar attitude. Strife had even tormented the demi-god and his little friend on more than one occasion, though he had never paused to consider precisely why. Feeling confused for the umpteenth time that day, the former godling sprawled back out into his borrowed bed roll and stared morosely at the stars.

He was startled scant moments later by a hand gently tapping at his shoulder. Belatedly realizing Iolaus had been trying to get his attention with that new name (which was going to take some serious getting used to), Strife offered an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, I..ah.. Did yah want somethin'?"

Iolaus looked vaguely amused, shaking his shaggy blond hair in negation.

"No, kiddo... I was asking if you were hungry. Herc's got dinner fixed... and it may even be edible." He winked, blue eyes flashing in the firelight.

Hercules snorted, miming an irritated swat at his grinning friend.

"Don't listen to him, of course it's edible. Now, if Iolaus had cooked... well. Might as well resign yourself to a stomach ache."

Now it was Iolaus' turn to feign offense. He gasped, hands clapped abruptly to his heart.

"Oh, you wound me... never again will I cook another thing for you, ungrateful wretch."

The two continued on in that vein, leaving Strife to watch in amazement. They were like a show- perhaps they could sell tickets? Lips quirking, Strife finally gave into the urge to laugh. His laughter, quite unlike the maniacal giggling he indulged in once upon a time, was raspy at first, gradually deepening until he hadn't the breath to continue.

Hercules and Iolaus traded triumphant grins.

Ares was caught between the overwhelming desire to throw something, anything, at the mirror and a sudden rush of gratitude toward his annoying half-brother. Seems the little do-gooder did have some use after all.

A sudden burst of light and a shower of rose petals distracted him from his musings and he glanced up only to realize he was still wrapped around a trembling Eris. Faster than a scalded cat he jumped back, whipping around to glare at the newly-arrived Goddess of Love.

"Aphrodite. Something you needed?"

It wasn't on par with his usual sneer, dark features too weary to manage much in the way of intimidation.

"Oh, stuff it, bro. Just came to see how you were holding up."

Flapping her hands in dismissal of his snort of disbelief, 'Dite edged around to gingerly pat the Goddess of Discord on the back. Eris, still watching the mirror, waited until her son settled down for the night before turning a surprisingly neutral expression on the other Goddess.

"Holding up. Holding up? My dead son has been brought back to life and no one will tell me why and I can't go see him and he just came very close to drowning and now I have to watch him be all cute with those two? And you want to know how I'm HOLDING UP?"

The words tumbled over one another, rising in volume and pitch until the temple walls shook. Aphrodite and Ares took a step back, though the latter soon gritted his teeth and regained that lost step. Running out of steam, Eris shrieked wordlessly and vanished in a flurry of purple sparks. Aphrodite turned innocently wide blue eyes upon her brother.

"Was it something I said?"