Remembering

This story is not intended to violate any copyrights held by MCA, Universal Studios, or Renaissance Pictures concerning Hercules: The Legendary Journeys. This story is for fun and no money was made from it.

“Hercules, is this really a good idea? I mean, you said your brother and Iolaus weren’t close. How will he feel when you show up with me?”

As was his habit, the Jester walked slightly behind Hercules. While he didn’t have a problem keeping up with the demigod, he walked with an uncertain shuffle. Iolaus had always had a confident gait, sure and true, matching Hercules’ more loose-limbed, easy lope. The jester stayed slightly behind Hercules as if to create a safe zone around himself. Hercules was aware of what was happening but chose to leave it alone. Trust had to be earned and, Hercules knew, this Iolaus had little reason to trust anyone, least of all him.

“I think going to Corinth first is the best way to do this. It is true that Iolaus and Iphicles weren’t close, so maybe he’ll be less shocked, more accepting. We have to test the waters sooner or later. He’s the one to start with, believe me.”

The jester sighed and pulled even tighter into himself. He was grateful to Hercules for all he had done for him and he felt safe for the first time in his life but some small part of him still saw the Sovereign every time he looked at Hercules. That was the main reason he walked behind Hercules. If anything happened, he wanted to be out of striking range. If Hercules truly was as strong as the Sovereign had been, Iolaus wanted a safe distance between them.

“I suppose you’re right. I hope so.”

Hercules ventured a glance back at his companion. He looked like Iolaus. He sounded like Iolaus. But this Iolaus had a childlike vulnerability about him. He seemed ready to bolt and run at the first sign of trouble. And he was so sad and timid, like a dog that had been beaten until its spirit was broken. What had the Sovereign done to this gentle soul to make him so afraid to reach out?

“Iolaus, come walk beside me. I’m getting a crick in my neck, trying to talk to you.”

Almost as if it had been a command, Iolaus almost stumbled over his own feet to comply. Hercules put out a steadying hand, only to feel the jester cringe as if he’d been struck. Quickly, Hercules pulled back, completely unprepared for Iolaus’ reaction.

“I’m sorry, Iolaus. I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to help you.”

Iolaus looked at Hercules, his heart in his throat.

“No,” he stuttered. “No, I’m sorry. I reacted before I thought. I know you only meant to help. It’s reflex, I guess. I’m really sorry.”

“Iolaus, you don’t have to be sorry for anything. This is a different world. Maybe you should let the old world go.”

“Easier said than done. Some things never go away, no matter how hard you try to make them.”

Hercules reflected on the truth of Iolaus’ words. The pain and hurt still so raw in his heart would never leave him. He had come to accept that. Maybe someday he could learn to live with it.

“Hercules, I know I told you I didn’t want to hear about your Iolaus, but he meant so much to you. Was he so extraordinary? Why are you as lost as I am, without him?”

Iolaus had stopped, causing Hercules to stop beside him. This conversation had taken a turn that Hercules had never intended. The careful control he had maintained all these months slowly began to crumble. He turned toward the jester, tears glistening in his eyes.

“He was the better part of my soul. I never told him, but I always thought of him as my brother. He held a place in my heart no one else ever did or will. When he died, I lost my center, the anchor that guided my life. A part of me died with him.”

The jester sighed, unconsciously tugging at the long ears of his cap. He suddenly pulled it from his head, throwing it behind his head and tying the ears in a loose knot around his neck.

“I need new clothes. You can’t blend in wearing a cap and shoes that have bells on the ends of them!”

Hercules smiled at his new friend. That was something he had in common with Iolaus. A quick mind that could jump from one thought to another with dizzying speed. Hercules quickly wiped his eyes and blew his nose on the jester’s extended kerchief. When he tried to return it, the jester made a face despite himself.

“That’s all right, Hercules. You keep it. I’ve got lots more. After all, I am a clown by trade.”

“But not by choice,” Hercules countered. “Never by choice.”

They walked in companionable silence for almost an hour. Hercules was getting used to the fact that the jester enjoyed his solitude. It seemed to give him comfort to be surrounded by his invisible cocoon. Hercules hazarded a glance at the smaller man beside him. He grinned slightly, thinking that it was at times like this that he missed Iolaus the most. He missed the energy that radiated from his soul-mate, the almost tangible life-force that shone in his eyes. He missed the bounce in his step, his non-stop chatter and bawdy songs. He missed the good natured, long-running fishing contest between them. He even missed when Iolaus would start babbling, so excited he made no sense at all.

This Iolaus, while the twin to his Iolaus, was an entirely different person. He was quiet, a solitary person who lived inside himself. While Iolaus had been gregarious, enjoying people and their company, this man seemed to dread any interactions with other people. There were times when Hercules had been aware of the jester watching over him, seeking some weakness he could use against the larger man in self-defense.

Hercules finally decided it was time to camp for the night. It would be getting dark in a couple of hours and he would have to try to catch something for dinner. Besides, the jester was getting tired and Hercules didn’t want to push him too hard. He had done an admirable job keeping up. Hercules decided it was time to let him rest.

“We’ll camp here. There’s a good stand of trees for cover.”

Iolaus sat down without preamble, exhausted. Being a jester didn’t make exercise a priority, so while he could keep up, by the end of the day he was, literally, ready to drop. Hercules had slowed his pace to make it easier on his new friend, but if Iolaus noticed he hadn’t commented on it.

“I’ll go see what I can find to eat. You can make camp and get a fire going. I won’t be gone long.”

Iolaus looked up, his eyes showing how tired he was.

“Take your time. I’ll be all right alone, really. I stopped being afraid of the dark a long time ago.”

Iolaus set about making camp, building a fire the way Hercules had showed him. He stood back and surveyed his handiwork with satisfaction. Pulling his spark-jug from his pack, he quickly had a fire blazing away. He sat close to it, warming himself against the evening chill.

Hercules returned shortly, carrying two plump rabbits he’d already dressed-out. He also had a small pouch of fruit and nuts he’d picked up along the way. The jester had found edible tubers and a few wild mushrooms and onions which he had put on a stone near the fire to roast. All in all, a good meal awaited the two travelers.

It had, indeed, been a good meal. Hercules hadn’t realized, until he’d started traveling with the jester, how much he missed having someone near at night. When Iolaus had died, Hercules had stifled all his feelings, going dead inside. He slept when he needed to, ate when he had to, but never allowed himself to dwell on being alone, on how lonely he was.

But at night, when he finally lay down, alone, he couldn’t escape the ache in his heart, the pain in his soul. He would lay, staring at the star-studded sky and wonder about Iolaus. If Iolaus had gone into the Elysian Fields, he would have known where he was. He could have even visited him, if he needed to. But this Light. Hercules didn’t know what it was, only that the soul of the person who meant more to him than his own life, was there. Was Iolaus happy there, was he safe? Was Dahak, somehow, still alive and the Light was just a ploy to recapture Iolaus’ soul, to punish him endlessly?

Hercules had to believe Iolaus was at peace now. Because there was no way for him to reach Iolaus if he wasn’t, no way for him to help him.

“Hercules!” Hercules started at the sound of the jester’s voice. “Hercules, are you all right?”

Hercules shook his head and smiled weakly.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just lost in thought. I tend to do that from time to time. Used to drive Iolaus crazy.”

The jester grinned slightly.

“I can imagine. It only scares me.”

“Sorry. I’ll try to do better,” Hercules answered.

The jester sat studying his new friend and mentor. He saw a big man, both in body and soul, who had an air of profound sadness about him. You had to look in his eyes to know it was there. Someone had once told this Iolaus that the eyes were the window to the soul. If so, Iolaus saw a soul with a broken heart.

Finally, Iolaus moved to start cleaning up their camp.

“Leave that, Iolaus. You cooked. The least I can do is clean up.”

Iolaus sat the plate he held down and sighed.

“I am tired. If you’re sure, I’ll go to bed. Unless you want some company?”

It was an offer of companionship, Hercules realized. But, tonight, he really wanted, needed to be alone with his thoughts.

“Thank you, Iolaus. You’re tired and we have a way to go tomorrow if we want to get to Corinth by dark. I’m all right. I’m just going to sit her awhile and enjoy the night.”

Iolaus smiled hesitantly and went to his blanket on the other side of the fire. He lay down and pulled the blanket around him tightly, like some sort of protective cocoon. He turned on his side, away from the demigod and pulled himself into a tight, little ball. What had the Sovereign done to this gentle soul?

Hercules awoke, realizing he had fallen asleep sitting against the big fir tree they had camped under. He had a blanket draped over him, so the jester must have awoken sometime during the night and covered him. He remembered sitting for a long time, just looking up at the sky. He had been thinking about Iolaus when they were young and how scrappy Iolaus had been. When you were smaller than everyone else, you had to learn to be scrappy, Hercules had mused. And their Academy days, when Iolaus had been in trouble constantly, usually dragging Hercules into the fray before it was over. Yet, even then, Iolaus had a heart larger than Olympus and Hercules had recognized, even then, that Iolaus was the strong one, the one who lead the way without even knowing it.

Iolaus returned to camp a short time later, having been to a nearby stream to bathe.

“I found some wild hen’s eggs in a nest at the stream,” he said, sitting down before the fire Hercules had started. “Would you like an omelet?”

Hercules smiled. He remembered waking the morning after coming back through the portal with Iolaus. How, for just that heart-stopping split second, he had thought the jester was Iolaus and how he had been unable to hide his disappointment when he realized who it really was. They had had omelets that morning.

“That would be great. I’ll go wash up. Maybe I can find something for dessert.”

It was a fairly large stream with a reed-choked bank. It was a lot like the stream where Hercules had booted Iolaus into the water to get him to bathe that day, so long ago. He bathed quickly, unwilling to leave Iolaus alone for too long. The smaller man seemed capable of taking care of himself, but Hercules knew at the first sign of trouble, he would probably bolt and run.

Bolt and run. Not two words he would ever have associated with “his” Iolaus. Iolaus had never run from anything. Hercules doubted he knew how.

It was a quiet breakfast. Iolaus was as good a chef as he was an inventor. Finally, clearing his throat, Iolaus said, quietly, “If you’re curious about me, you can ask.”

Hercules opened his mouth, almost asking the question that lay on the tip of his tongue. What did he do to you? But, common sense intervened and Hercules quickly decided to wait. The time wasn’t right.

“I thought you’d tell me when you were ready. I don’t like to pry. I have things in my past that are hard for me to talk about.”

Iolaus looked at his hands. So small, like him. If he only had the courage and heart of the other Iolaus. If only.

“I had a wife. For a short time. She died.”

“Any children?” Hercules asked.

“He died with her.”

“Oh,” Hercules stammered. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. It was a long time ago. It was foolish of me to believe I could have someone. I belong alone.”

Hercules watched as the blond hung his head. Had his Iolaus felt the same when Ania and the baby died? Had his final acceptance been an act for Hercules’ benefit?

Hercules said quietly, “Iolaus had a wife and a child, also. They died. You and Iolaus do have some things in common.”

“Maybe. I wish I had his courage.”

“You have your own courage, Iolaus. I respect you. It took courage to ask me to bring you here, it took courage to come here. You may not have a warrior’s heart, but you are a hero waiting to happen, my friend.”

Iolaus smiled at Hercules.

“Thank you. That really means a lot to me.” The Sovereign had always called him a coward, a little no-body whose only purpose was to serve and amuse him. Iolaus had spent a great deal of his life terrified of the man, knowing the Sovereign was mentally unstable and, therefore, extremely dangerous.

Now, he had to learn to trust the twin of his worst nightmare. Hercules was a good man. The jester could feel it. And he wanted nothing from Iolaus but his friendship. In his heart, Iolaus knew he could trust Hercules but in his mind, the Sovereign was still very much alive.

“So,” Hercules said as he stood up, “Let’s break camp. If we make good time, we should reach Corinth by dusk.”

Iolaus was amazed by Corinth. It was a beautiful city, not large but not small, certainly not a village. Hercules had chosen to approach over a large hill to the west of Iphicles’ castle. From its vantage point, they could see the city without going into it. Hercules thought it would be easier on Iolaus, and, perhaps, safer.

They stood on the rise, looking out over the city. It was approaching dusk, but the city was still an impressive sight. Iolaus stood almost on tiptoe, pulling the ears of his jester cap. Hercules had never seen him so excited. It was a sight, indeed. But Hercules liked it. It was a relief to see some sign of real life in the blond. Hercules pointed to the east, toward a large sailing port. Ships of all sizes and descriptions were moored at its docks.

“Shipping port.” Hercules explained. “Iphicles has pioneered the import-export trade in Corinth. It’s opened the city up to trade from all the known world.” The pride in Hercules’ voice was clear.

“He must be a remarkable man,” Iolaus ventured.

Turning, Hercules nodded.

“He is. We’ve had our ups and downs, but I respect what he’s done here. He’s my brother.”

“But he’s not Iolaus.” The jester said quietly. He waited for the explosion, but it never came.

“No, he’s not. We came to an understanding a long time ago about Iolaus. I love Iphicles, I respect him. But Iolaus has a place in my life and my heart Iphicles never will. That’s just the way it is.”

The jester sighed deeply.

“It is a beautiful city. I hope I’ll be able to see it first hand someday.”

Hercules put his hand on Iolaus’ shoulder, gratified that the smaller man didn’t flinch.

“You will. I promise. When the time is right, you’ll see all the sights first hand.”

They approached the castle at the side gate. Hercules always made entrance here, because there was only one guard and he knew Hercules by sight. It took only a few minutes and the two travelers were roaming the halls of the palace. Iolaus was almost childlike in his awe. He had been inside the Sovereign’s palace, of course. But it was a dark and foreboding place. There were few windows and little sunlight. The Sovereign liked the darkness and, even after sunset, allowed very few candles and torches to be lit.

This place was airy and bright. There were beautiful tapestries on the walls and deep pile rugs on the floors. Hercules watched with a small grin as Iolaus touched the tapestries. There were candles and torches abounding and everyone they met smiled and greeted them warmly.

Hercules saw a tall, thin man approaching. He recognized him as Timmon, Iphicles’ personal minister. The tall man approached with a broad smile and extended hand.

“Hercules! It’s so good to see you.” He exclaimed, as he shook Hercules’ hand with great enthusiasm. “King Iphicles is waiting for you in his private quarters. He’s had a small meal prepared, so you could visit in private. He’s been looking forward to seeing you.” Timmon hesitated, then spoke in a quieter voice. “He’s been worried about you since what happened in Sumaria. He heard stories about some of the things you did, how hard you took Iolaus’ death.”

Hercules smiled wanly, his eyes clouding. He decided, at that moment, he could not speak about Iolaus. Instead, he turned toward the jester, who had stood patiently in the shadows.

“Timmon, I’d like you to meet someone. He isn’t our Iolaus. He comes from the netherworld on the other side of Zeus’ portal. But he... well, he looks and sounds like Iolaus.”

The jester stepped timidly from the shadows into the light. Despite himself, Timmon was momentarily startled and put a hand to his mouth to stifle the gasp in his throat. Recovering quickly, Timmon extended his hand in greeting.

“Hello...Iolaus. It’s a pleasure to met you. The resemblance is extraordinary.”

“So I’ve been told,” Iolaus quipped. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

After an awkward moment, Timmon motioned toward the corridor.

“Shall we go, then? The king awaits.”

Iphicles’ private chambers were, to Iolaus’ surprise, quite simple. There was a desk in one corner that was piled with scrolls and petitions. A table in the middle of the room held a small but substantial meal of roast boar, cheese, fruit and wine. The king’s bed was against the wall on the far side of the room. The only really ostentatious thing in the room was a large fireplace that covered a whole wall and several ornate but comfortable chairs clustered around it.

Iphicles rose at the sound of a knock on his door. He crossed the room swiftly and threw open the door. The smile that spread across his expressive face was a balm to Hercules. He caught Hercules by the arm and pulled him inside the room into a fierce hug. Momentarily startled, Hercules returned the embrace, grateful for the silent comfort. The two brothers parted, their eyes meeting, speaking all that needed to be said.

Iphicles looked behind Hercules, seeing the jester for the first time. He extended his hand and shook the jester’s hand in warm greeting.

“Iolaus? Hercules sent word you would be coming. I’m very happy to meet you!”

The greeting seemed sincere. Iolaus returned the strong grip of the king and the broad smile.

“Hercules has told me a lot about you, King Iphicles. I’m honored to meet you.”

Iphicles laughed, “Don’t believe everything he says, Iolaus, especially about me. Call me Iphicles. I hate being called king by friends. Come, sit and eat. I’ve waited for you both and I am starving!”

Later, after Iolaus had gone to bed, Hercules and Iphicles sat before the fire, Hercules indulging in the rare glass of wine. The fire was cozy and Hercules felt himself thawing for the first time in a long time. Iphicles, ever the blunt speaker, came right to the point.

“How are you, Hercules? And don’t say fine. I know better.”

Hercules took a slow sip of the wine and stared into the fire.

“I’m better. It still hurts but I’m learning to live with the pain. Iolaus fought well and deserves the reward he was granted. I just hoped he’d be granted life, instead.”

“I know. I respected Iolaus, Hercules. He was a good man and a great warrior. He stood beside you when most would have abandoned you.”

For the first time since he had returned to Greece, Hercules felt hot tears stream from his eyes and fall unbidden down his cheeks. Iphicles moved to sit next to his brother on the divan. His heart ached for this man, his brother. Hercules was in so much pain. Iphicles had never seen Hercules like this. Not knowing what else to do, he put his arms around the strongest man in the world and pulled him close.

Hercules, finally giving in to all the months of grief, guilt, and pain, leaned against his brother’s chest as great, heart wrenching sobs racked his frame.

“I miss him so much, Iph. It hurts so bad. I’m so tired of fighting the pain.”

“I know,” Iphicles soothed, gently rocking Hercules. “It’s me. I understand. Let it go.”

Iphicles emerged some time later, after letting Hercules vent his grief. He had put the exhausted demigod to bed in his own bed and watched over him until he fell into a deep sleep. Starting down the corridor, he was headed toward the guest quarters to find a bed when he saw the jester slowly walking toward him. Hastening, he caught up the smaller man.

“Iolaus!”

The smaller man literally jumped at the sound of his name.

“I’m sorry. Did I startle you?”

“No... No. I was just admiring the tapestries. The Sovereign didn’t have anything like this. He didn’t like things that were uplifting.”

“Sounds like a person with a problem.”

Iolaus cuffed softly, “If insanity is a problem, he had a problem.’

Iphicles whistled softly through his teeth.

“I see,” he finally said. Deciding to change the subject, he studied the jester before adding, “Hercules said you wanted new clothes. I have an excellent tailor. If you’d allow me, I’d like for you to go tomorrow and let him fashion you something that would be more compatible for your new life.”

Iolaus looked at Iphicles, trying to see some ulterior motive in his offer. Finally, admitting that the offer was just that, an offer, Iolaus nodded and smiled.

“Yes, thank you. I’d be glad to accept your offer.”

Iphicles turned to go to the guest quarters when Iolaus coughed softly.

“He’s asleep, Iolaus. In my bed, in my quarters. You can go check on him, if you’d like.” Iphicles said, without turning. Some things never change.

Iolaus opened the door to the king’s chambers slowly, not wanting to wake Hercules. The jester had been well aware that Hercules had not been sleeping well for some time. The jester had often lain on his side of the campfire at night, listening as Hercules would ask, over and over, “Why?” or utter the words “I miss you,” over and over. Often, the demigod would leave camp to wander in the woods until daybreak.

Iolaus had left the demigod to whatever demons haunted him. Iolaus was still trying to cope with his own demons and didn’t have the strength to take on a whole different lot belonging to someone else. Yet, even though he kept his distance, his heart ached for this gentle man who had lost so much. Everyone has a breaking point and Iolaus knew Hercules was very near his.

Crossing the room quietly, he looked down at Hercules and realized he was at peace, at least for this night. He looked at the handsome face, the same face that had belonged to his hated tormentor. The Sovereign had no mercy in his soul, no pity for those whom he perceived as weak.

And he had perceived Iolaus as weak. They had grown up together, in the palace. Zeus had commanded Iolaus’ mother to furnish his son with a companion and she had given him her own son. In the before time, before the Sovereign had slipped into insanity, they had been friends, comrades of a sorts. Iolaus could still remember times when they had played together, trained together or just talked long into the night.

All changed when Iolaus was twelve summers old. The Sovereign began to have fits of rage, directed at anyone in sight, usually Iolaus. He began to roam the palace, tearing tapestries from the walls, ranting about enemies and traitorous friends. He would rant and rave for hours, breaking pottery and vases. Iolaus had seen him pick up a marble statue and fling it across the room. And, finally, he had turned on Iolaus.

A soft moan brought the jester back to the present. Hercules was tossing around, causing the bed covering to slip off the bed. Iolaus reached out and pulled the blanket over the larger man. Hercules opened his eyes slightly and smiled.

“I knew you’d come back. I knew you wouldn’t leave me.”

Iolaus didn’t answer. He decided it didn’t hurt to give Hercules a few brief seconds of happiness. Hercules had already slipped back to sleep, a smile still on his lips. Iolaus took one of the extra blankets at the foot of the bed and wrapped it around him. Quietly, he moved to the divan next to the fireplace and curled up on it. Yawning, he snuggled down into the soft couch and was asleep in a matter of minutes.

Iphicles had come early the next morning to fetch Iolaus. True to his word, he had already made arrangements with his tailor to begin on the jester’s new clothes. He had found the jester where he knew he would, asleep in his quarters, as if standing guard over Hercules. Not for the first time, Iphicles wondered in awe at how his brother could engender such devotion in both men called Iolaus.

He had placed his hand over Iolaus’ mouth before gently waking him, lest the jester cry out. But Iolaus had only opened his eyes, looking up at Iphicles as he put his finger across his lips to signal him to be quiet.

“Come,” Iphicles had whispered. “My tailor, Isus, awaits.”

Iolaus cast a glance at Hercules before he arose. The fire was long dead and there was a definite chill in the room. Motioning, Iphicles led Iolaus into the corridor.

“We’ll let Hercules sleep. I’ll send someone later to wake him and start a fire. He’ll be all right.”

Iolaus looked down at his feet. What had possessed him to sleep in there, as if to keep watch over the strongest man in the world? As if reading his thoughts, Iphicles placed a hand on Iolaus’ shoulder.

“Thank you, Iolaus. Hercules may possess the strength of a hundred but he always drew his inner strength from his best friend. The only person not aware of his great importance to Hercules was Iolaus. He was truly the strong one and Hercules may never again be the same without him. But you’ve filled an important place with him. He’s no longer alone and he has someone who can take his mind and his heart off his pain, if only for short periods of time. Right now, that’s a treasure for him and for me. Thanks you for being there when he needed someone.”

Iphicles took Iolaus’ hand, then pulled the jester into a fierce embrace. It seemed natural, somehow. Pulling away, Iolaus smiled at the King of Corinth. He was a lot like his brother but Iolaus sensed in Iphicles a leashed anger that wasn’t in Hercules. It was this barely contained anger that made him a good king.

“Well, Iolaus, Isus awaits. Let’s see what he can conjure up for you!”

Hercules had awoken late in the morning to find a servant building a fire for him. Breakfast was on the table and the smell reminded Hercules how hungry he was.

“Thank you,” Hercules said. He wrapped a blanket around himself and went to stand before the fire. “Has my brother been here while I was asleep?”

“Yes, sir. He came to fetch your friend, to take him to Isus for his new clothes. He said to tell you they would be back later today. He said he was sure you could find something to occupy your time.”

“Yes,” Hercules laughed softly. “I suppose I can.”

“Yes, sir. If you need anything else, sir?”

“No, I’m fine. Thank you, again.”

“You’re welcome, sir.” Hesitating slightly, the young servant, a boy of about seventeen summers, added, “It’s good to have you home, sir. We were all worried about you.”

“It’s good to be home. I’ve got a long road ahead of me, but knowing I have people who care makes it easier.”

“Yes, sir.” The boy grinned. “I’m Danius. If you need anything, ask for me. I’d be honored.”

The boy left and Hercules stood for a moment, staring after him.

Some time later, after he had eaten and bathed, Hercules had wandered the corridors of the palace before finding himself in the Royal Gardens. He smiled as he spied the bench where Iolaus had spent a lot of time when they visited. Iolaus was never really comfortable at the palace. He had a strained relationship with Iphicles, at best. While they both respected each other, the past differences between them had never truly been resolved. Hercules knew that Iphicles regretted that now, that it was too late to do anything about it.

Sitting down, Hercules surveyed the beauty around him. It reminded him of his mother’s garden. Iolaus had teased Hercules unmercifully about the way he had helped his mother with the garden. Yet, on more than one occasion, Hercules had found Iolaus on his knees beside Alcmene, elbow deep in dirt. Alcmene would always be laughing or smiling, a fondness for the blond evident in her stance, her ease around him.

This had always been Iolaus’ favorite place at the palace. Iolaus would always end up in the garden, sitting on this same bench. He hated the pomp and circumstance that often went on in the palace. He liked being out in the open, under the sky.

Hercules remembered, on their last visit, he had found Iolaus asleep on the ground, during the night. He had covered him with a blanket and left him. Then, there had been the last long talk they had had. It, too, had taken place right here, as they sat side by side. Iolaus had been quiet, always a bad sign. Finally, Hercules had leaned slightly forward and looked at Iolaus.

“What’s wrong?” he had asked.

Iolaus had hesitated, then looked at Hercules. He thought of all the years between them, the adventures, the sorrows, and joys. The bond between them that had called him back from death, more than once. His life was full because of Hercules, complete. It meant something to someone. Hercules had looked at Iolaus, his heart’s brother. Without Iolaus, he would be a rudderless ship adrift in a sea of turmoil.

“Whatever the future holds, always remember I’ve spent my life doing what I wanted to do, with the only person I trusted and believed in enough to do it with. We’ve fought the good fight all our lives, Hercules. I’ve never regretted a minute of my time at your side. When it ends, always remember that.”

Iolaus believed Hercules to be immortal and often worried about what would happen to his gentle friend after he was gone.

“I will, Iolaus. I promise. I’ll carry you in my heart all the days of my life.”

Iolaus had seemed satisfied with Hercules’ promise. After that, they had fallen into a companionable silence, that spoke volumes as they sat side by side watching the moon rise.

Iphicles found Hercules where he knew he would. As it neared suppertime, the King of Corinth had gone in search of his brother. He wanted to summon him to supper and prepare him for Iolaus’ new look.

“Brother,” he said as he sat down.

“Iphicles. I hadn’t realized it was getting so late. Have you seen Iolaus? He’s been gone all day.”

“Worried?” Iphicles asked, looking sideways at Hercules.

“No. I just miss him when he’s not around. I’ve gotten used to him, I guess.”

“Is that a bad thing, Hercules?”

Hercules swallowed hard. He seemed to be torn about his answer.

“No, I guess not. It’s just that he will be leaving me sometime soon. I can feel it. He deserves to find his own place, to have his own life. But I will miss him. I guess I’m afraid of being alone. The road is a lonely place when you’re by yourself.”

“I wish I could help you. You and Iolaus had a bond I could only imagine. It transcended the perils of life and, oddly, the finality of death. As long as you stay true to the dreams you shared, he will always be with you.”

Hercules laughed softly.

“I remember once, when we were at the Academy, there was a ruckus with Ares and Iolaus believed I’d been killed. He told me later that Cheiron had told him the exact same thing. Thank you, brother.”

Smiling, Iphicles nodded and said, “You’re welcome. Oh, yes, I came out here to tell you supper’s waiting and that Iolaus is coming to show you his new ‘look’.”

Hercules raised an eyebrow.

“New look? Isus made him some new clothes! I know he’s relieved to be out of that jester outfit. He hated that hat!”

Iphicles became serious.

“Hercules, Isus told me that Iolaus has scars on his buttocks and thighs. Isus said the scars look like they were caused by a whip or lash.”

Hercules suddenly went pale, his mouth dropping open.

“Why didn’t he say something?”

“I suppose he didn’t want you to know. He seems, to me, to be a very private person. Perhaps it’s something he’d rather forget. We all have demons, Hercules. He probably thought you’d never find out, or even that you wouldn’t care.”

Hercules started to protest but thought better of it. If the Sovereign had beaten Iolaus that would explain a lot. Why he stayed just out of reach, why he jumped at a loud voice, or flinched at being touched. Why he slept curled up in a ball, as if trying to make himself as small as possible. To have been under the rule of the Sovereign so many years, to be in constant fear of what would happen next. Hercules wondered that the jester wasn’t a total basket case. Again, in his own way, he had an inner strength much like Iolaus.

“You’re right, Iphicles. When he wants to, he’ll tell me. I can wait. Iolaus and I had no secrets between us. Maybe, in an odd way, it’s better if the jester and I have our secrets. I want him to stay safe, to stay alive. Maybe, having our own pasts stay just that, will help us separate our present. I know I’ll never care for him in the way I did Iolaus, but I do care. His past is his past. I had no part in it. There’s no history between us. None of the years that forged the bond between Iolaus and me. I think I like things as they are now. Maybe, when he leaves, it won’t hurt as much.”

Iphicles placed a hand on Hercules’ shoulder. Hercules looked at him, sadness evident in the blue eyes. Iphicles smiled at him, nodding. Hercules was right. Perhaps he and Iolaus would be better served by keeping some secrets to themselves.

They became aware of a small, blond figure standing at the edge of the garden. He seemed to be waiting to be told it was all right for him to come closer.

“Well,” Iphicles said, rising. “I’ll go to my supper. Iolaus is really excited about his new clothes, so you be kind. Understand?”

Hercules laughed lightly.

“I will, big brother. I promise.”

Hercules watched as Iphicles took his leave, passing Iolaus and pointing back at him. Iolaus took a few slow steps before squaring his shoulders and coming forward at a good pace, a confident pace. Hercules liked what he saw. The jester’s cap was nowhere in sight. The jacket had been modified, sleeveless, open partly in front with open pleats around the waist. The horrible tights had been replaced with soft, brown leather pants and the shoes with calf-high brown boots, a shade lighter than the pants. But what drew Hercules’ attention most of all was the hair. The royal barber had cut it short, a neat trim that made the blond hair look darker.

With a pang, Hercules suddenly realized that, truly, this Iolaus was not “his” Iolaus. The short hair, Hercules knew, was the jester’s way of separating himself. Sitting down beside Hercules, he waited. If Hercules laughed or made fun of him, he knew he would die a little inside. He desperately wanted Hercules’ approval, his respect. It never occurred to him that he already had both, as he felt he had done nothing to earn them. Hercules turned slightly on the bench and grinned.

“I like it. It suits you. The hair will take some getting used to, but I think I like that as well. Do you like it?”

“Yes,” Iolaus answered, “I do. Isus and I devised hooks in the sleeves so I can reattach them when it’s cold.”

“Very clever. I’m impressed.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you like the change.”

Hercules looked at Iolaus, the gentle, sad jester. Hercules realized that inside, this Iolaus had courage he could only imagine. To have survived years with the Sovereign, to have come out not only sane but with things he cared about be a part of him. He was an inventor, a juggler, a cook, an acrobat, and a friend.

“Iolaus, I’ve never told you but I’m honored to have you as a friend. I never told Iolaus that. I’ve been very impressed with you. I would never hurt you.”

The jester smiled.

“Iolaus knew how you felt about him. He had to because he felt the same way about you. I know. I don’t know how but I just know.”

“Thank you. That means a lot. I also want you to know that when the time comes, and it will, that you want to leave, I’ll understand. If I had had the courage to let Iolaus go, maybe he’d still be alive. I want you to have a life that makes you happy, and if that’s apart from me, so be it.”

“You’ve been a good friend to me, Hercules,” the jester began. “You brought me here, even though every time you looked at me, you saw Iolaus. I know that must hurt you. You never tried to make me into him, you never tried to make me take his place. After 25 years of friendship between the two of you, I never could have anyway. There may come a time when I’ll want to leave, but for now I’m content with things as they are.”

“I’m not the Sovereign, Iolaus. I’ll never hurt you, or belittle you or expect anything of you that you don’t want to give. All I want is your friendship and I hope, someday, your belief in that friendship.”

Iolaus sighed, as if a great weight had suddenly left him. He smiled, his blue eyes lighting up for the first time.

“I remember. You remember. We both have our pasts and the ghosts that live there, Hercules. But, I want to look forward, I want to put my ghosts and demons to rest. I’ve been given a second chance. We both have. I think Iolaus would want you to get on with it. From what I’ve gleaned about him, he loved life. And he loved you. Would he want you to continue to live in the past when the present needs you?”

Hercules nodded. “No, he wouldn’t. But the past is comfortable and Iolaus is there. The present is painful for me. I miss him.”

“My past is painful for me. I don’t miss it at all. The Sovereign was a cruel man who had no remorse. My mother gave me to him when I was only a child, to please Zeus. We were friends for a long time, until I was about twelve. He suddenly began to ranger and wander through the castle, talking to invisible allies who advised him. I became terrified of him. I’d hide, trying to avoid any confrontation. I knew how they would end.”

Hercules had to know. It was obvious that Iolaus was opening the door.

“Did he hurt you, Iolaus?”

Iolaus breathed a deep, shuddering sigh. The Sovereign had hurt him physically and mentally. He knew Hercules would understand but the exact details he would keep to himself.

“Yes, Hercules, he hurt me. I could get over the physical hurt, but when he demanded that I become the court jester, it broke something inside of me. I had trusted him and, in my own way, loved him right up until the first time he struck me. Even then, I still cared for him and prayed to the gods to heal his tortured mind. But to take away my dignity, to degrade me for his own amusement. I came to hate him more than I feared him. I was relieved when he died. I was free.”

Hercules finally understood. He looked and sounded like the one person Iolaus had once trusted and loved Only to have that trust and love used as a weapon against him. He began to appreciate anew the shy, timid inventor. He wasn’t Iolaus and never would be, but he was a person worthy of friendship and caring. Hercules only hoped he was worthy of the tentative offer of trust the jester was making to him.

“Let’s go eat, my friend. I am starving.”

Iolaus’ face lit up at Hercules calling him friend. Rising, they walked side by side back to the palace, Iolaus at last feeling he deserved the honor of walking by the side of his new friend. Hercules reached over to put a reassuring hand on Iolaus’ shoulder. He would make the most of whatever time he had with this sweet, gentle man and feel blessed.

finis

Melinda is not online at this time, but if you would like to give her feedback on this story, email it to me, Quiet Wolf, and I will pass it on to her.

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