Dark Dreams

by

Jinx

The rolling of the boat lulled the large man on the bunk asleep for the first time in almost six days. However, as the blue eyes closed and Morpheus descended, the demi-god found himself, again, on the sandy plain.

He'd gone there often in his dreams since he and his friend began their journey east. The first time was while he was sleeping on the floor next to his friend's hammock on the ship as they traveled. He could remember the soft sounds of Iolaus' breathing close to him, lulling him into a peacefully slumber. Before he knew it, though, he was in an empty place, listening to voices as they questioned him on his decision. He soon came face to face with himself. The white cloth his other self wore fluttered in the breeze much like his heart had done when he found himself in this strange land.

He recalled asking the familiar stranger who he was and was answered with what he feared most... his dark self.

He was assaulted with the truth, from this being before him, at every turn, confronted with the knowledge that so many of those he loved had died because of him. He was asked what this journey would cost him, never believing that it would cost him his soul.

There had been other times when he journeyed to this waste land. Those times were while he was partially awake as he lay by his best friend's body, refusing to allow the men to tend to his friend.

This time was no different from the others.

He saw his darker self in his white robes walking toward him.

"So, the choice was made."

Hercules glared at the other being with hate-filled eyes.

"There *was* no choice."

"Oh, but there was." His other self gestured with his right arm, directing his attention toward the emptiness behind him.

Hercules watched as his other self and Iolaus walk along the streets with Gilgamesh's men.

"We ask that you accompany us to our homeland and help our king. Like you, 'great one', the blood of an immortal flows through his veins, but his heart is pure."

"Uh, 'great one', can I have a word with you?" Iolaus took Hercules' arm and led him off to the side, away from prying ears. "Hercules, we don't know anything about these other gods. Look, it's not as though we don't have problems of our own."

To which Hercules replied, "I know these gods are different from ours, but the people aren't . They need help. We cannot turn our backs on them. Huh?"

From here, however, the conversation took a different turn as Iolaus continued.

"Herc, we can't turn our backs on our own people, either. Who will protect them if we leave?"

Hercules watched himself weigh his friend's words and nod once.

"You're right, of course. We've got work to do here."

Iolaus smiled and placed his hand on Hercules' arm. A look of pride shone out of the blue eyes. Pride and love. He and Iolaus returned to the men and extended their apologies, but they would not be able to help their king.

"See, there is *always* a choice."

Hercules was still reeling from seeing his best friend alive and whole again. He stood transfixed to the spot silently begging to view that moment in time just once more.

Finally turning to the other man, Hercules asked, "What would have happened if we had never left?"

"I cannot answer that. There is always more than one choice to consider while making decisions. One must consider the consequence of ones actions before making decisions of such magnitude. Something you seem to be lacking."

The two men stood staring at one another before Hercules looked away and backed down. He knew what the man spoke of was the truth. His dark side had proved right yet again. His arrogance had cost him his family, and now, his best friend, who *was* his family.

"Did you not pay attention when you visited the first time?"

Hercules turned to him, questions burning in his eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"What did you see when I first brought you here?"

Hercules shuffled through his memory, trying to remember what, if anything, was different than that first time. A flash of Iolaus' mummified body when he returned from the Land of the Dead crossed his mind and he turned in a circle looking.

The other man smiled sadistically. "Yes. I see you *do* remember."

Dead eyes turned to him as realization hit.

The funeral pyre.

"I would have thought you would have been clever enough for the hint, but, perhaps I was wrong." After a brief pause, the man continued. "Though, it could have been your arrogance, once again."

A flash, and Hercules was back in his first dream. The dream when he first came to this place.

The robed figure spoke to him.

"You're having doubt about what you're doing, aren't you?"

"...be prepared to fail."

"That's a chance I'll have to take," Hercules replied.

"...but at what cost?"

"Yes. At what cost, Hercules?"

Hercules turned again and saw the pyre consuming the body atop the wood. He now knew that it was his friend that burned. He was warned and he chose to ignore the warnings:

Iolaus' trepidation about going.

The dream.

His own fear.

All warnings the demi-god chose to ignore.

Because, why?

"Yes, Hercules, why?"

The answer came quickly and painfully.

Arrogance.

He was half a god, after all. He could do anything.

"...at what cost?"

Deianeira.

The children.

Serena.

Oh, gods...Iolaus.

Hercules could not remove his eyes from the sight of the burning body.

I put him there.

Another flash more prominent than the rest.

A knife.

*THE* knife.

The curved knife that sailed through the air to embed itself in the chest of his friend.

"...chance I'll have to take."

"...at what cost?"

The body that lay half burned on the pyllon suddenly sat up. The funeral cloth was gone. Melted flesh dropped off of bone as Iolaus turned to face his murderer.

"Why?"

Hercules jerked awake, eyes wide open, still seeing the sight of Iolaus accusing him. He sat on the bunk waiting for his heart to calm. Knowing he was not going to go back to sleep anytime soon, he rolled off the bed, quickly dressed, and went up to the deck.

He stood at the railing, looking out into the dark ocean. The sea glowed with the moonlight, but he was unable to muster the enthusiasm he once did. It wasn't the same without Iolaus.

Soon, he felt the tears come. Tears that he denied himself since leaving for the Land of the Dead. He was not going to cry. Not if he could bring him back. And, even after finding out that Iolaus had crossed over, he *still* refused to shed a tear.

Even the dreams was not enough.

But, standing on the deck, watching the rolling water and feeling the emptiness of the place beside him where Iolaus once stood was enough for this strong man to finally grieve.

He knew he would never fill the hole that was once consummed by his friend. Nothing and no one would ever be able to accomplish that for as long as the half-god walked the earth. He would have to live with his new-found knowledge, knowing he had a choice, but chose the wrong path.

This path would be traveled on alone. His only companion.... his dreams.

finis