April 2001 challenge response
Iolaus has to alienate Hercules, and hit the streets, to protect him and Alcmene from Skouros.
Iolaus knew that this time, he had pushed Hercules too far. His friend had gone white, his cheekbones standing out starkly, his nostrils flaring, the clear blue of his eyes darkened with emotion. Herc stood rigidly for a long moment, staring at Iolaus as if he didn't know whether to hit him, cry or just walk away. Finally, with one tight shake of his head, his lips compressed against the words of hurt and disbelief in his throat, Hercules turned to walk away...only, he couldn't just walk, he had to run...run as far and as fast as he could from Iolaus, the only person he had ever really thought of as a friend.
Iolaus raised one hand, almost called out, almost called his friend back...to explain, to apologize, to beg forgiveness...but, he held the words back. What was the point...wasn't this what he had wanted, what he had set out to accomplish? His hand dropped to his side, he clenched his teeth against the sob lurking in his throat and closed his eyes tight, trying to hold back the tears. 'Gods, Herc,' he thought, 'I'm sorry...I'm so sorry.'
Iolaus fought back the lump in his throat. Crying wouldn't help, wouldn't make anything better...nothing was ever going to be better again. He brushed the back of his hand across his eyes, turned and set out to slowly walk back home, thinking about what had brought him to this...brought him to the point of hurting his best friend so badly that Herc would never think of him as a friend again.
It had all started when Skouros had come back home a week ago. As usual, his father seemed angry with everything and everyone. He had climbed down from his warhorse, thrown the reins at Iolaus, with a terse, "Take care of the horse, boy," and, his saddle bag over his shoulder, he had stomped into the house. The last campaign had not gone well...too many battles had been lost, too many good men had died. Oh, they had won in the end, but such victories held no joy, only bitterness. Now, he was home on leave. Home to this cottage that was little more than a hovel. Home to a wife who had faded with the years, who trembled when she saw him, not with desire or joy, but with fear and trepidation. Home to girls who shrieked and cried and made him want to shout at them to be silent. Home to his only son, a runt of a kid of whom he was ashamed. Gods...there was no relief here for him.
Iolaus led the massive horse into the barn. The animal was so large, he had to get a box to stand on when he removed the heavy saddle and to curry the beast's massive back. Still, it was a magnificent animal and Iolaus took some joy in tending to the beast. He took his time...it was better spent with the horse than in confrontation with his father. As he brushed down the animal, and then found fresh straw for the stall and oats for feed, he reflected back on his twelve years, trying to remember a single time when he had felt approval from his father...it never occurred to him to try to remember a time of love or laughter...that, quite simply, was too far beyond his experience. Sighing, he gave up...all he had ever known from his father was contempt...and pain.
Finally, unable to find anything else to do in the barn, Iolaus headed back to the house. It was quiet, too quiet. Normally, his sisters would be shouting, teasing one another, competing to tell their mother the stories of their day at school...but, not tonight. As Iolaus let himself into the cottage, he kept his eyes down, hoping to evade the inevitable confrontation, at least for a little while. But, as he closed the door, he heard his mother's sad, muffled sobs. He looked up, saw her cradling her cheek and felt such rage. Why did his father always have to hurt her? What had she ever done to deserve this? The man was no sooner home than the reign of terror had begun...it was ever like this. Gods, Iolaus was sick of it.
He stood for a moment in the doorway, taking in the room. His sisters were nowhere in sight...one good thing at least. His father was standing with his back to the room, staring at the flames in the hearth, a wineskin in his hand. His mother had turned back to the worktable under the window to continue the preparations of their meagre evening meal. There was soup steaming in the cauldron on the hearth. To help his mother or to get out of the way...choices. When he was younger, Iolaus had kept as much distance between his father and himself as possible. But now, he was reluctant to leave his mother alone. He went to the cupboard and pulled out the bowls, spoons and platters and began to set the table in the middle of the room.
"Woman's work," his father spat out, "is that all you're good for, boy? A momma's boy who doesn't know how to behave like a man?" His father took another drag from the wineskin and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Iolaus ignored him and continued with his work, his back to his father. "Don't you ignore me, boy!" Skouros snarled as he roughly pulled Iolaus around to face him. Iolaus stood passively, eyes down, trying with his body language to quell the confrontation, to not goad his father into a deeper rage...but, to no avail. "Look at me when I speak to you, boy...don't grovel like some wretch! Stand up straight!" His father's hand, heavy on his shoulder, shook him briefly for emphasis.
Sighing, Iolaus raised his eyes to the angry grey orbs above him. He saw his father's jaw tighten, felt the hand on his shoulder dig into his flesh, bruising him. Still, he held his tongue...fighting back, either with words or fists, had never made the situation between them any better. Silence was his only defence.
"Leave him alone, Skouros," his mother begged softly...a mistake. Skouros pushed Iolaus aside as he stormed at his wife. "Hold your tongue, woman! Don't you ever interrupt when I am talking!" Skouros took an aggressive step forward, his arm coming up to strike her.
"NO!" Iolaus shouted as he quickly moved between his enraged, out of control, father and his tired and bruised mother. "Don't hit her!"
Skouros paused for a moment, stunned into silence by the audacity of the boy. How dared he command Skouros? Insolent pup. His face purpled with his rage. Iolaus, knowing what was coming, without turning his back on Skouros, pushed his mother behind him, pushed her back, out of the room. "Take the girls," he muttered urgently... "go to Aunt Lina." His mother paused a moment, then turned into the darkness of the hall behind her.
"Who do you think you are, boy?" snarled Skouros.
"My name's not 'boy'..." Iolaus responded, his own anger beginning to rise over his fear.
"Don't you back talk me, boy," Skouros rumbled as he started around the table toward Iolaus.
Iolaus moved, keeping the table between them, buying time for his mother to grab the younger children and get out the back. Dredging up a taunting smile of rebellion. "Why not? Why should I respect you? You haven't earned it...not here...not with us," Iolaus responded.
Skouros, in a fury, lunged around the table at Iolaus, but Iolaus just danced out of his way, keeping the flimsy barrier between them. "You go away for years at a time, then come home, expecting us to welcome you! Why should we? All you do is abuse your wife and terrorize your children...some hero." Iolaus shouted at him.
With a roar, Skouros tossed the table between them away to smash against the wall, crockery shattering on the floor. "I'll teach you respect, you little, good for nothing runt," he shouted as he grabbed Iolaus with one hand and backhanded the young lad with the other. Iolaus' head snapped to the side with the power of the blow...he felt his father shake him with rage, hit him again, then throw him against the wall where he landed in a heap on the remains of the splintered table. Desperate, Iolaus grabbed a broken table leg and scrambled to his feet, holding the improvised weapon in front of him. He was in a corner, his father between him and the door. There was nowhere to go.
Skouros curled his lip in contempt at this sign of resistance. The boy was pathetic... always had been. Skouros could scarcely believe such a runt could be his son. "Think you can stop me with that do you, boy?" he murmured in a dangerous tone as he stalked his son. Iolaus held his father's eyes, refused to show fear...but he knew he was in deep trouble. When Skouros struck out at him, he swung his club in defence, but his father blocked it, batting the club out of the way and continuing his motion, grabbed Iolaus' wrist to twist it...until it snapped and the club fell from his hand.
Iolaus couldn't help it. Tears of pain filled his eyes as he grabbed his injured wrist with his other hand, trying to support it. "Crybaby...you always were a crybaby..." his father snarled, "It's time you learned to take pain like a man." Iolaus saw the blow coming, tried to turn away, but was knocked hard into the wall. Leaning against it, he waited for what was coming...a punch, then another and Iolaus slipped to the floor. He felt the boot kick his side, felt the burst of pain....and then, blessedly, felt nothing more.
When he awoke, it was dark. The fire in the hearth had gone out and the room was chilled. He shivered and bit back a groan...where did it hurt most, he wondered. There was a deep burning pain along his ribs from the kick. He could tell his face was swollen from the blows he had taken...one tooth felt loose...and his head throbbed. But, he decided, the wrist was the worst...he had landed awkwardly on it, only aggravating the injury. He needed to get away...needed to get help.
Iolaus pushed himself to his knees, then to his feet. He leaned for a moment against the wall to get his breath. Once the room stopped spinning around him, he stumbled to the door and, managing to get it open, he staggered outside. He had just stepped away from the house when his father's shape, little more than a threatening shadow in the night, moved across the yard in front of him.
"Think you'll go to the harlot?" his father sneered. "Think you'll go whining to her? Well, not this time." Iolaus looked around, seeking some route of escape, but he was too shaken up to run...he'd never get away. So, he held his ground, held his silence. He knew Skouros was talking about Alcmene. His father had always hated her, hated that she gave Iolaus sanctuary.
His father came to stand before him, took hold of his shirt, twisting it against Iolaus' throat. "You ever go to her again, or to her bastard son, and I will kill her...do you understand me?" his father promised in a deadly calm voice. He shook Iolaus, "Well, do you?"
"Yes," Iolaus replied. Gods, his father really was insane. Iolaus knew this was no idle threat. Skouros would not hesitate to hurt her. Iolaus swallowed hard, looked away. He knew if his father ever touched Alcmene, Hercules would kill him...Herc was only a kid, not quite eleven years old. But, he was almost as tall as a man...and far stronger than any man Iolaus had ever known...certainly stronger than his father. Iolaus wouldn't really have cared if Herc damaged his father...except for what that would do to Hercules. He'd get into big trouble.... "Yes," he repeated firmly, "I understand."
"Good," his father snarled as he threw Iolaus from him. The boy landed in the dirt of the yard, curling protectively, but his father just stood over him. "If I ever hear that you have spoken to either of them again, I'll kill her, and the kid, too." His father stared down at him for a moment, then turned and went back into the cottage.
Iolaus laid there for a long time, dazed, in pain, crying silent tears. He'd never understood why his father had always hated him...never understood why his father seemed incapable of normal affection with anyone. He was used to the abuse...had known it all his life. But, this was worse. Before, he could go to Alcmene, to Hercules ...it had been the one place he was safe. Now, that place of warmth and acceptance, of love, was barred to him. He could not put either of them at risk...he owed them too much. Loved them too much. Gods, he'd never felt so alone.
Finally, Iolaus forced himself to his feet and painfully made his way to the barn. Dawn was just breaking in the east. Leaving the barn door open, he searched in the half light for a suitable stick and some pieces of rawhide. When he had what he needed, he gripped the wooden bar of the stall door with his injured left hand as strongly as he could, then used his weight to pull himself back, to straighten the broken bone as much as he could. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he wedged the end of the stick under his palm, against the wooden bar, angled against his injured arm. Using his right hand, and his teeth, he tied the rawhide strips tightly around his arm and the splint. Finished, he cradled the aching arm against his body, slumped down into the straw on the earthen floor and let himself slip into sleep.
When he awoke again, the sun was high in the sky. Iolaus didn't really want to move...his whole body felt like it had been run over by a herd of horses. However, after a few minutes, he realized he couldn't just stay there. Pushing himself to a sitting position with his right hand, he then reached up to grab a slat in the stall door to pull himself to his feet. Winded, he just leaned against the stall door to catch his breath. Looking around, he noted that his father's horse was gone...good, that meant his father was gone, too, at least for awhile. Straightening, one step at a time, Iolaus left the barn and headed across the fields to the shortcut through the forest to his Aunt's home.
It was only an hour's walk, but Iolaus felt exhausted by the time he got to his destination. His mother was alarmed at his injuries and his aunt sent for the village healer. Between them, they tended to him, properly splinting his arm and putting poultices on his bruised face and back. Iolaus stayed there for five days...the first two days, were a kind of blur. After that, when he admitted it to himself, he knew he was hiding...not from his father, but from Hercules.
Finally, on the sixth day, he set out to find his friend. He headed to their usual meeting place...their old fort by the lake. Sure enough, Hercules was sitting under the tree. When Hercules became aware of Iolaus' approach, he jumped up and loped across the meadow to meet his friend.
Alarmed at the bruises he saw, Hercules blurted out, "Gods, Iolaus, what happened to you?"
Iolaus shrugged, minimizing his injuries, as he replied shortly, "I fell out of the loft...don't worry about it."
Hercules frowned at the abrupt tone and reached out to put a hand on his friend's shoulder as he said, "Are you sure you're alright? Looks like you had quite a shiner..." but he stopped when Iolaus pulled roughly away from his touch. "What...?"
"Would you just lay off, Hercules...you're worse than a mother hen," Iolaus almost snarled as he turned away.
Hercules was confused...he'd never seen Iolaus like this. Had he done something wrong to make his friend so angry with him?
"Sorry, Iolaus," he murmured, "I was just worried...you haven't been around for days...I've been looking for you..."
"By the gods, Hercules," Iolaus cut in, "can't you manage a few days on your own? You hang around me like some kind of lost puppy...don't you know how fed up I get having to put up with you all the time?"
Iolaus had to turn away from the stunned look of shock in his friend's eyes. This was the hardest thing he'd ever done. He hated to hurt Hercules...they'd been friends for years, grown up together...the only real friend either of them had ever had. Steeling himself, he turned back, continued his relentless mission of alienation.
Looking Hercules up and down, Iolaus curled his lip, "Gods, you are pathetic...don't you understand, I'm tired of hanging around with you...tired of being a freak by association... I've had it with the stupid whining about never seeing your father...I've had it with your constant looming over me...with...with everything."
"Iolaus, I..." Hercules tried to intervene, tried to stop this flood of venom. He felt as if something inside was being shattered by these terrible words...words he could not believe he was hearing from Iolaus.
Iolaus pushed him, shoved as hard as he could. "Shut up!" Iolaus snapped at him and shoved him again. "Don't you get it, you stupid oaf! I don't want to talk to you...I don't want to see you...I don't want to have anything more to do with you...ever! Just go away!" Iolaus was shouting as he pushed Herc one last time.
Hercules stepped back, away from the assault. He was angry at the insults and the aggression, hurt by the viciousness, the betrayal. This was his best friend...his only real friend. He was white with emotion, shaking. He didn't know whether to hit Iolaus, or cry, or just leave. Gods, he was going to cry...he had to get away from here. Turning, biting his lip, he began to walk away, then, tortured by the hurt, confused by the attack, desperate to find someplace safe before he lost it, Herc began to run.
Iolaus hated himself. He couldn't believe what he had just done...how could...? Biting back his own sob of despair, he turned and headed back home. He kept telling himself that he hadn't had a choice, at least, not while his father was still at home. He couldn't take the chance of Herc showing up at the cottage looking for him...couldn't take the chance of what his father might do, to Herc, or worse, to Alcmene. Stopping for a moment, he turned and looked back at their old fort. Tears blinded his eyes as he remembered everything they had shared there...years of games and laughter. Years of dreams of being heroes. Iolaus laughed bitterly as he mumbled to himself, "Back to back...some friend I turned out to be."
Turning to continue his way home, Iolaus thought that maybe he could explain, when Skouros was gone again...maybe Herc would understand, forgive him. The tears came then and the boy cried for what he had had to do...cried for the pain he'd caused the one person who mattered most to him...cried for his own loss...cried because he felt so trapped, so lost...so alone. Herc was better off without him...knowing Iolaus would only cause him trouble. Thunder rumbled in the distance as it started to rain.
Skouros came back later that afternoon, half drunk and belligerant. Deep down, he knew he was wrong, knew he was out of control. But, he didn't want to admit it...his own sense of personal disgust...even of despair...only made him more defensive, more angry ...more bitter. He felt the fates had always betrayed him...leaving him abandoned as a child, leaving him afraid to trust or to love. Betrayed him with a woman who was weak, unable to match his fire, unable to bridge the distance of hurt to touch his heart. Betrayed by having only one son...a son too small, too much like his mother, to ever be a warrior. Betrayed by never having found the glory he sought in battle...oh, he'd progressed through the ranks, but it wasn't enough. Nothing was ever enough. He was damaged by the scars he carried, scars no one could see.
He rode in as Iolaus stepped out of the barn. Stepping down from the saddle, he threw the reins, as usual, to the boy, snapping, "Take care of the horse." Iolaus, however, had had enough. He let the reins drop between them. "Take care of it, yourself" he snapped back.
Skouros straightened to his full height. Anger smoldered in his eyes. How dared this disgusting bit of trash speak to him like that! Well, enough was enough. He would teach this boy some manners, teach him some respect. Skouros was bereft of reason as he lunged forward and grabbed his son to shake him. The man was completely out of control, blinded by the bloodlust of rage, completely unable to exercise any restraint because of the wine he had drunk.
Iolaus could see the rage, feel it...a wave of black animosity and hatred. This was bad...worse than he'd ever seen before. Twisting frantically, he tried to break away, but his father's grip was too strong. He kicked and lashed out with his hands. His father backhanded him, then threw him like a ragdoll across the yard. Iolaus landed hard, winded for a minute, but then scrambled to his feet, ducking and rolling away from his father's reach. Turning, he ran with all the speed he had, ran in terror of his life. This time, he knew his father would kill him. His father caught him, yanked him back, smacked him again, hard...punched him....all of this in ominous silence except for his harsh breathing. Iolaus twisted away, desperate. Iolaus felt his shirt rip away in his father's hand and he was again free. He ran. And, this time, he got away.
Iolaus hid in the forest that night. It had started to rain again as dusk fell but he was able to find shelter in the hollowed out shell of an ancient fallen oak tree. He shivered in his misery. What was he going to do? Where could he go? If he went back to his Aunt's place, it would only start again the next time he saw his father. He couldn't go to Alcmene...it was too dangerous for her. He was twelve years old, and he didn't know what to do. Wishing desperately that he could go find Hercules, knowing that he'd destroyed that relationship, he finally cried himself to sleep.
The next morning, Iolaus left the forest and headed into Thebes. He'd found food on the way...some root vegetables, a couple of apples...but, he needed to find some place to stay. When he got into town, he tried asking for work with the blacksmith and the leatherworker. Both chased him away. They knew him...knew his propensity for deviltry and he looked even more disruptable than usual. He wandered the streets of the village, slept in an alley that night.
The next day was no better. He was tired, and hurt...and hungry. He stole some bread from the baker and, dodging away from pursuit, he grabbed some fruit from a market stall as he slipped through the crowd, away down a side lane. 'Great', he thought, as he hungrily consumed the food, 'now I'm a thief.'
Iolaus fended for himself for three more days. During that time, he noticed he wasn't the only kid on the streets. He'd seen them before, but hadn't really noticed them, hadn't studied them then as he did now. The lost ones. Little kids, not much more than five or six years old. Older kids, adolescents, who were smoother in their thievery. Finally, at the end of his fourth day on the streets, he followed them to an abandoned hovel on the edge of town. They were careful of pursuit, taking a circuitous route...but, even at his young age, Iolaus was a tracker. He didn't have to see them to silently follow their trail.
When he arrived at the ruin, he wondered how to approach them. Straight up, he decided...afterall, he was one of them, a street kid, a petty thief struggling to survive. Stepping out of the shadows, he moved toward the broken down cottage. 'Not much of a place,' he thought, as he took in the old, patchy thatch on the roof, 'bet it leaks.' One wall had fallen in and there was no door. He was still ten feet away when one of the older boys came out to meet him.
"So," the bigger kid said, "you finally decided to make friends."
Iolaus dredged up a cocky grin, "Yeah, well, I figured if I had noticed you, you guys had probably noticed me...my name's Iolaus. Got room for one more in there?"
The older boy studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Sure, why not," he responded, "my name's Meritus...but, understand, you join us, you play by my rules."
Iolaus shrugged. How bad could the rules be? He'd watched them and knew they hadn't done much worse than he had over the last few days. He needed a place to stay, needed to be with people. "Sure," Iolaus replied, "no problem." Meritus nodded and led Iolaus into his new home.
There were ten kids crowded into the hovel. They had blankets and food...and not much else. Over the next few days, he sorted out their names...the littlest ones were Anna, Petrus and Anocles. The ones closer to his age were Tomas, Merina and Cletus. The oldest were Meritus, Analeus, Trista and Namon. He learned they all had their assignments ...what to steal, where to sell it, who took backup or lookout, and who picked pockets. As the weeks passed, he learned new skills...how to pick a lock, as well as a pocket. He fended off his own feelings of disgust with himself by giving most of his food to the younger children, and using his spare time to whittle dolls and wooden horse toys for the kids. Time passed.
One day, late in the fall, Iolaus spotted Analeus stalking Alcmene, planning to lift her bag, hoping it contained enough dinars to make the risk worthwhile. Iolaus cut in front of the older boy, almost tripping him. "No, not her," he said quietly, but firmly. Analeus flashed a look of anger down at the smaller boy. "Get out of my way," he rasped as he shifted to move around Iolaus. "No," Iolaus said as he elbowed Analeus against the wall, "I said, not her."
Analeus heard the steel in the kid's voice and saw the determination in his eyes. "What's she to you?" he asked, suddenly curious. Iolaus had been more than usually reticent and no one knew much about him, or why he'd joined them. "She your mother or something?"
Iolaus didn't answer immediately, then just said, "None of your business who she is...just leave her alone."
Analeus decided he would let it go for the time being. There were other marks to hit on. But, he was going to watch and listen...and find out just who this woman was, and why she was important to Iolaus. "Okay, no sweat...I'll leave her be," he said as he sauntered off in another direction. Iolaus turned, stayed in the shadows of the wall, but watched Alcmene until she turned a corner and was lost to his sight. Finally, unable to resist, he followed her...just to watch her...to remember....but, as he turned the corner, he walked right into her. Alcmene had spotted him and, knowing Iolaus, she had been certain he would follow her. Startled, Iolaus tried to bolt away, but she put a hand on his arm, stopping him. He stood, trembling a little, like a cornered animal...not afraid exactly, but not safe either.
"Iolaus," Alcmene began, her voice soothing...but worried, "Iolaus, what has happened to you?"
"Uh, nothing...I'm fine...look, I've got to go...nice to see you again...." Iolaus stammered, anxious to be away.
Alcmene just gave him that smile, the one that said she didn't buy a word he was saying, but that she trusted him anyway...the smile that said she loved him. "Iolaus, I can see you need help...why didn't you come to us?"
She didn't know what had happened the day Hercules had come home upset, as if he had lost his best friend. It took her a day or so to realize he believed he really had been dropped by Iolaus. He wouldn't tell her exactly what Iolaus had said, but she could tell he had been hurt. She didn't know what had caused the problem, but she knew Iolaus... she had watched him grow up over the past several years and knew he wouldn't have hurt Hercules without a reason...a good reason. More than anyone else, Alcmene had seen the friendship grow, become strong. She knew beyond any doubt that this child loved her son... was protective of him...would do anything for Hercules.
Over the years, Alcmene had seen the mysterious bruises that Iolaus sported whenever his father was home...but she didn't push him, didn't challenge his stories of falling, tripping, walking into walls, tumbling over stones. Iolaus was only a child, but he had his pride... he was ashamed to admit what was happening. He didn't want anyone to know, to feel sorry for him. There were no laws that prohibited a man from disciplining his children in any way he saw fit...no means by which Alcmene could intervene. But, she had always offered the lad a safe haven. When she worried that he might begin to believe he deserved to be beaten, she lavished love and warmth upon him, letting him know that he was special, that she knew he was good. It broke her heart to see how grateful he was for the slightest kindness.
As he grew, she saw in the clear blue eyes and the unruly curls, in the indomitable spirit and the cocky grin, the mysterious man she had met years ago...the man who had saved her life, and the life of her unborn child. A man whose name was Iolaus...who had told her that he was from the future, and that her unborn son was his best friend...more, that her son was someone the world needed. That stranger had told her he would die to save her and her son...and he almost had. She didn't pretend to understand what had happened ...but she would return the man's gift by protecting and loving the boy. And it wasn't hard. He was mischevious and his boundless energy was always getting him, and Hercules, into some misadventure or other...but, he was also kind, old beyond his years, and, in the face of the life he had to lead, courageous. Most of all, this child had been the best thing that had ever happened to her son, bringing Hercules out of his painful shyness and silence...bringing him laughter and joy, adventure and the greatest gift of all, steadfast friendship.
Iolaus hadn't answered her. He didn't know what he could say. He shuffled his feet in the dust of the street, evading her eyes. Finally, he looked up, "Uh...how's Hercules?" he asked, with some trepidation.
"He misses you," Alcmene responded.
"Oh," Iolaus replied, looking away, relieved...surprised. He had thought Herc would hate him, not miss him.
"Iolaus," Alcmene brought him back to her first question, "what's wrong...how can I help you?"
Iolaus swallowed and blinked hard, looking again at the ground. "It's okay...you don't need to worry about me...I'm doing alright," he mumbled.
Alcmene frowned. There was something badly wrong. Iolaus was clearly living on the streets. He was filthy...and, to be honest, it was a good thing she was downwind. But, he always had his reasons...good ones. "Alright, Iolaus...but, never forget, you have a home with us." The boy nodded and turned to go. She detained him a moment more. "Iolaus, won't you come by the house and see Hercules? He'll be leaving after Solstice."
Iolaus looked back at her, anxiety in his eyes. "Leaving? Where's he going?"
"His father wants him to attend Cheiron's Academy, near Corinth." Alcmene watched Iolaus closely, could see his distress.
Herc was leaving, going away...pretty far away. Iolaus had never given up hope that somehow, someday, he might be able to patch things up with Hercules...but, if he was going away...he might never see Herc again. Cheiron's Academy. Iolaus sighed...he'd heard of the Academy...who hadn't? Well, Herc deserved to get to go to such a great place. Resigned, Iolaus nodded and turned away. "Good bye, Alcmene...thanks for offering to help." And he was gone, sprinting like a startled fawn away through the crowds.
Alcmene watched him go, wishing there was some way to reach him. Saddened, she turned back on her own path toward home.
Months went by, and then a year. From time to time, Iolaus would spot Hercules across the market square when he was home on leave from the Academy. Twice, Herc had seen him, too. The first time, Iolaus had seen Herc's eyes light up as he started toward him across the square. Iolaus had forced himself to scowl at his old friend, before he turned and faded down an alley. The second time, almost a year later, Iolaus had seen a detached, almost cold look in Herc's eyes, and this time, it was Hercules who turned away first.
Analeus had watched, and listened...and had learned who Alcmene was...and that Hercules was her son. Having figured all of this out, Analeus had also figured out that Alcmene was on her own when Hercules was away...alone, out there outside of the city. He had heard Alcmene defend Iolaus to an irate merchant who had lost too many goods to street thieves...and who knew Iolaus was one of the most light fingered amongst them. If he ever caught him, the merchant would make sure justice was done. Justice in Greece meant convicted thieves lost their right hands before being sent to prison.
Alcmene was worried about Iolaus...but, he was getting harder to reach. Whenever she caught a glimpse of him, he would turn away, disappear into the crowd. Hercules had stopped talking about Iolaus, no longer looked for him when he came home. The last time she had mentioned Iolaus' name to her son, he had shrugged and turned away. "He's gone bad, Mother...he's not the Iolaus we used to know."
"Don't be so sure," she had responded, but Hercules had not wanted to talk about it further.
Meanwhile, Iolaus had continued his life on the streets. He stole what he had to, to help feed the younger kids so that they wouldn't have to spend time stealing themselves. He also helped out others who were vulnerable. Widows with young families would find freshly killed rabbits or pheasants on their doorsteps. Old people, who had trouble making ends meet, would find baskets of fish and vegetables or fruit waiting for them in the morning. Wondering about their mysterious benefactor, they would wait and watch...and just after dawn would see the scruffy, small curly headed blond boy leave his gifts and then steal silently into the shadows. It wasn't long before it was more than Alcmene who were defending Iolaus to bakers, fruit sellers and silversmiths.
In the evenings, Iolaus played with the littler kids, found himself teaching them how to read. He'd grin softly to himself as he drew out words with a stick in the dust of the yard. His teachers would never believe this...he knew they would have been astonished to know how much he had picked up in school between his pranks and restless antics in class. Iolaus hadn't been stupid...just bored. The lessons had been so repetitive, the writing exercises so dull, they had not held his attention. 'Imagine me,' he thought to himself, amused, 'I'm a teacher! Who would have thought?'
It had been eighteen months since Iolaus had joined the gang of street kids. He had watched the older boys grow from tough adolescents to bullies who picked fights. He suspected they beat up unwary travellers at night, robbed men worse for drink on their way home from the tavern. But, Iolaus did not go out with them at night. He stayed with the kids, made sure they were safe. The older boys became increasingly suspicious of him. In the way of wary thugs, they were coming to understand that he was different... that his ethics could pose a danger to them one day. Still, he was the best thief in the group so they left him alone. Sometimes, they wondered about the enigma he presented. A talented, unhesitant thief who balked at violence...more, who cared for those who were weaker than he was. They hesitated to push him too far...not only because of what he contributed, but also because they sensed a danger in him. They had learned early on that he could take care of himself ...and anyone else he chose to protect.
Late one afternoon, just before dusk, Iolaus was headed home with his bounty, when he heard Analeus and Meritus talking quietly around the corner from the house. Curious, he paused to listen. What were they up to, this time?
"I tell you, she's on her own...that big lout of a son is away again." Analeus insisted.
"Yeah, so what?" Meritus drawled, not really interested.
"She's got money...maybe gems. We could take them, easy...and, she's not all that hard to look at...even if she is old. We could 'take' her, too."
Meritus thought about this...Analeus was right, she wasn't hard on the eyes. Might be fun. "And then what? She'd have us thrown in prison."
"Not if we kill her," Analeus countered.
Meritus shrugged. It wouldn't be the first time. "Yeah, okay...when?"
"Tonight?"
Meritus laughed cruelly, "Why not?"
Iolaus backed into the shadows when he heard them start to walk in his direction. He watched them pass by, worried by what he had heard. Who were they going to attack tonight? He couldn't just let them hurt...kill a defenceless woman. Taking a deep breath, Iolaus set out after them. He was sure he could stop them...he just wasn't sure he'd be able to handle the aftermath. He'd have to watch his back from here on in.
Keeping to the shadows, Iolaus followed them out of town. About a half hour later, they stopped under some trees to consider the house they were about to raid. Firelight glowed from the windows. Iolaus had stayed some ways back, not wanting them to discover they were being followed until he was ready to stop them. Consequently, he was too far back to stop them before they headed to the house. Alarmed, finally realizing who was their target, he started to run, no longer concerned about being seen. But, they got to the house ahead of him.
Fear clutched at Iolaus' heart as he raced to the house and burst in the door, only moments behind them. Their target had backed up against a wall, a wooden mallet in her hand, ready to fight them off. This was no helpless victim. They would have to fight her.
"Leave her alone!" Iolaus screamed, startling them as he burst into the house. Unbalanced at first by the sudden intrusion at their backs, the two young hooligans turned to face their challenger. Seeing that it was only Iolaus, and that he was alone, Analeus grinned evilly.
"Think you can make us?" he dared, certain that, between the two of them, he and Meritus could easily dispose of this kid. Not before time, either...he was getting to be more of a threat than a help....it had only been a matter of time before they would have to take him out.
Analeus and Meritus separated, trying to manoevre Iolaus between them. Unwilling to let them box him, Iolaus took the offensive, diving toward Meritus, knocking him sideways onto the floor. Analeus moved to jump him, but Iolaus whirled and fought him back, tripping him, knocking him to the ground. Iolaus grabbed an earthen bowl and hit Analeus over the head as he started to rise, knocking him out. Meritus, meanwhile, had pulled a knife from his boot, then rushed at Iolaus' back.
Alcmene, having stayed out of the fray, knowing she would only get in the way, saw the knife and screamed a warning, "Iolaus! Behind you!" as she ran forward, her mallet raised to strike. Iolaus started to turn, felt a burn in his shoulder and staggered forward...as Alcmene struck Meritus' on the back of his head, with all the force she could muster. Meritus fell like a stone to the floor. Iolaus had gone to his knees, trying to reach back to pull the knife from his back...but, the angle was wrong. He couldn't reach it.
Alcmene dropped to her knees beside him. "Easy, Iolaus, let me help you," she said as she steadied him with one hand.
Iolaus looked at her gratefully. "Are you alright?" he asked, wanting to be sure they hadn't hurt her.
"I'm fine, Iolaus...you arrived just in time. Here, let me help you up to that chair," she indicated with her head, helping him to rise and straddle the chair, so that he could lean his chest against it's support while leaving his back accessible to her care. He felt dizzy, but, there was something else that had to be done first.
"Alcmene," he muttered, "do you have any rope in the house...you need to tie these guys before they wake up...."
Alcmene hesitated for a moment. She was sickened by the sight of the knife in Iolaus' back, wanted only to take care of him, but she knew he was right. They were both at risk until she had made certain the two young thugs were tied up, unable to pose any further threat. "Alright, Iolaus...you just hold on...this won't take me long."
Alcmene did not have any rope, but she quickly tore a sheet into strips and used several of them to bind her attackers. She then took the cauldron of hot water she had been heating for tea, and grabbing some herbs from the chest on her work table, she turned back to Iolaus. Kneeling beside him, she was concerned to see how pale he was, how cold and clammy his skin under her gentle touch. He was going into shock.
"Still with me, Iolaus?" she queried softly as she brushed the unruly blond curls away from his face. He gave her a crooked grin and nodded, but didn't speak. He didn't want her to know how much it hurt. She smiled reassuringly back at him. "You're going to be alright...but, I need to take the knife out before I can treat the wound." Iolaus nodded again and looked away, gritting his teeth in anticipation of the pain to come.
Turning to the wound, she steeled herself, then reached to take a firm grip on the knife. As smoothly as possible, she slid it out of his back. Iolaus tensed, barely suppressing a groan. Alcmene ripped his shirt to give her access to the injury, quickly washed the wound with one of the rags she had dipped in the hot water, then grabbed a clean one to ball it into a wad and held it tightly against his back, applying pressure against the wound. It was high on his shoulder, not immediately life threatening, but it was bleeding heavily. She maintained the pressure for long minutes, willing the blood to clot. Finally, she checked the injury and, while the bleeding had not completely stopped, it had slowed to a trickle. Satisfied for now, she quickly applied herbs and bandaged the wound. It was in an awkward spot and she had to wind the strips of linen around his arm and shoulder, across his back, under the other arm, across his chest, then over the shoulder and again under the arm before she could tie it off. She had not bothered to remove his shirt...there wasn't time and he needed the warmth.
Iolaus was grey by the time she had finished. She needed to get him flat before he passed out. "Iolaus," she murmured, "you have to help me...I need to get you over to the couch so that you can lie down...can you do that?" Iolaus swallowed against the pain and dizziness, nodded and began to push himself back up and off the chair. She steadied him, pushed the chair away once he was standing, then, letting him lean heavily upon her, supported him across the room to the couch on the wall near the hearth. Helping him to lay down on his stomach, she laid a blanket over him. "I need to go to town, to get the magistrate and the healer....you just rest. I won't be long," she assured him.
Iolaus looked up at her as she knelt by his side, a comforting hand on his back. "Thanks, Alcmene...." he whispered before he closed his eyes and gave himself up to the darkness. Alcmene tenderly stroked his hair away from his face. "You just rest, my child....just hang on." Then, she was up and, after checking the bindings of her prisoners, she was out the door, running toward Thebes.
It took her almost half an hour to get to town. She went to the healer's first, urging him to get his supplies in order and his horse hitched to his wagon, while she went for the magistrate. Minutes later, she was back and the three of them set out quickly back to her house. On the way, she described how the two young thugs had attacked her and how Iolaus had come to her rescue...being injured in the process. It was only an hour since she had left, but, by the time they had arrived at the house, Analeus and Meritus were awake, struggling against their bindings. Leaving them to the magistrate's attention, Alcmene and the healer moved quickly to Iolaus' side. The wound had bled through the rough bandage and blood was seeping down the arm that dangled to the floor, down to a red puddle beneath his hand. The boy was unconscious.
The healer set to work, unwrapping the bandage, and, after a quick examination, he instructed Alcmene to remove Iolaus' ruined shirt while he heated a knife in the fire. When Alcmene pulled the shirt from Iolaus' body, they were all startled to see the flash of silver that fell out of it to the floor...bracelets and necklaces, earrings and rings. Alcmene's heart sank as she recognised the silver as stolen goods. She looked up and met the magistrate's eyes. Analeus and Meritus laughed when they saw the pile of silver on the floor...goody two shoes would get his! The healer came back, brushed the stolen silver aside and kneeling, he cauterized the wound. Even in his unconscious state, Iolaus felt the searing pain and moaned against it, flinching away from the blade.
Satisfied that the bleeding had been controlled, the healer treated the wound with his medicinal herbs, placed a pad of linen over it and taped a larger bandage over the pad to hold it secure. Finished, he turned to Alcmene. "He'll need rest. Keep him warm and get him to drink plenty of fluids when he wakes up. I'll be back to see him tomorrow."
Alcmene nodded, but the magistrate intervened. "I'm sorry, Alcmene...but we both know the boy has stolen that silver. I have to take him in to jail."
Alcmene looked from Iolaus to the magistrate, who flinched when he recognised the determined look. "You're not taking him anywhere tonight, Atreus. Iolaus saved my life...I will not let you take him until I know he is strong enough to go. Don't worry...he won't run."
"You can't be sure of that...." Atreus began only to have Alcmene cut him off in a tone that brooked no dispute. "Yes, I can be sure....Iolaus will not run." Reluctantly, Atreus nodded. "Alright. I'll leave him in your custody...but I will be back for him tomorrow." Alcmene only gave him a brisk nod, then turned her attention back to Iolaus. She knelt by his side and barely heard the others as they left. Now that there was time, she let the tears come as she gently rubbed Iolaus' back. "Oh, Iolaus," she whispered, "what are we going to do?"
When Iolaus woke the next morning, Alcmene was sitting beside him. It took him a minute to remember where he was...and why. It wasn't until he began to struggle to get up that Alcmene realized he was awake. "Here, let me help you," she said as she assisted him into a sitting position, his back against the wall. "How are you feeling?"
He gave her a crooked grin, "I've been worse." She cocked a disbelieving eyebrow at him, reminiscent of the gesture her son had learned from her, but did not dispute the response. Instead, she moved across the room to pour a mug of tea, added honey, then returned to help him drink it. Thirsty with the loss of blood, Iolaus drank it gratefully. "Guess I was out of it for awhile," he said between sips.
"It's just as well...the healer had to cauterize the wound to stop the bleeding...I'm glad you weren't awake for that."
"That makes two of us," Iolaus murmured, making a face as he imagined what had happened the night before.
"Iolaus," Alcmene began, "thank you for saving me from those young criminals...but, how did you know I needed you?"
"Uh, well, I overheard them plotting to rob and murder a woman who was living on her own, so I followed them...." Iolaus' face paled again as he remembered his fears when he had realized who they were about to attack. "I didn't know they were talking about you...I was too far away to stop them from getting into the house...Alcmene, I was so afraid..." he broke off as his voice caught.
Alcmene just smiled at him, "It's alright...they didn't hurt me...you arrived before they could do any damage," she reassured him.
It was at that point that Iolaus realized he was not wearing his shirt...and that he did not know what had happened to the silver he had stashed in it. Alcmene read his expressions, understood what he was thinking. "The magistrate has the silver, Iolaus," she said quietly.
Ashamed, Iolaus looked away. Alcmene thought her heart might break as she looked at his strickened face. She knew him so well, knew he was mortified to have had her faced with his thievery. He was only fourteen, not much more than a child. "Iolaus, I won't let them hurt you," she promised.
Iolaus couldn't look at her. "I...I know you want to help...but, I am a thief...and it was only a matter of time before I got caught." He turned back to her then, "I don't want you mixed up in this, Alcmene, it's my problem." Looking away again, he finished softly, "I'm not worth your help...."
"Iolaus," Alcmene said sternly, "enough of that. Look at me." When he did not immediately respond, she ordered again, "Look at me, Iolaus...we need to talk about this."
Reluctantly, he looked back at her, afraid to see contempt in her eyes...when he saw the same love, the same warm concern that was always there, he had to blink hard against tears that threatened. She didn't hate him. He started to tremble. Alcmene moved onto the couch beside him and took him into her arms, held him as he lost the battle against his tears. "Shh," she soothed, "it will be alright." When he quietened, she continued to hold him against her shoulder.
"Iolaus," she murmured softly, "You never told me why you went to the streets...why you didn't come to me for help...why you pushed Hercules away. But, I know you must have had a good reason. You are not bad, Iolaus...you are not evil. You would not have done those things if you'd thought you had any choice." She continued as she stroked his unruly curls, "Your goodness...your decency burns like a flame within you...I believe in you, Iolaus...I always have. We'll find a way out of this."
Iolaus listened to her words, didn't know what to say. How could she talk about his goodness when she knew he'd spent more than a year stealing from people. "You're wrong, Alcmene," he protested quietly, "I'm not good...I'm nothing but trouble...I don't want you to be hurt because of me."
Alcmene just held him more tightly. "Iolaus, I couldn't love you more if you were my own son...don't tell me you're not good...not kind...not brave. I've seen you grow up...I've seen you hide the pain you suffered from abuse for all of your life...and I'm pretty sure it was because you didn't want Hercules to know...to act in your defence and maybe get himself into trouble." Iolaus stiffened at her words...how did she know all this? She smiled as she imagined what was going on under those blond curls. "Skouros was here when you ran away from home....I think he must have threatened us somehow, so that you felt you couldn't come to us when you needed us." Iolaus remained silent, but he had started to tremble again. "You saved my life last night, Iolaus...how can I ever repay you for that?"
Iolaus felt the tears on his cheeks. He couldn't believe this...she understood. She understood all of it, just as she always had....and she didn't hate him. Sobbing, he held onto her tightly, "I'm sorry, Alcmene," he whispered, "I didn't know what else to do..."
Alcmene felt her own tears fall as she held onto the boy, the son of her heart. She had been so afraid for him...but, it would be alright now. She would make it alright. No one was going to hurt this child anymore...not while she was there to stop them.
The magistrate came for Iolaus later that morning. Alcmene refused to let him go alone, so she rode into Thebes with them. The magistrate could feel her anger toward him, but what was he supposed to do? The boy had been stealing for years...and he had finally gotten caught. The law was the law. He was sorry. He didn't really think Iolaus was a bad kid...couldn't be all bad, at any rate, given that he had saved Alcmene from his more debased friends the night before. Atreus sighed...cases like these were the hardest.
Court was convened shortly after they arrived in the town. Atreus had already charged Analeus and Meritus that morning with breaking and entry, criminal assault and attempted murder. They had already been taken from the town, to the prison in Corinth. Atreus had thought the trial of Iolaus would go as quickly...he regretted the inevitable punishment of amputation, but it was the prescribed punishment for a thief.
However, it was not to be a quick trial. To Atreus' surprise, his courtroom quickly filled with a strange variety of people. Older citizens of the town, young widows with their children, ragged youngsters not much older than seven or eight. And, of course, Alcmene was sitting there, straight backed and eagle eyed. This wasn't going to be easy.
As the trial progressed, Iolaus' guilt was quickly established when the silversmith identified his wares and testified they had been stolen the day before. However, that was not the end of it. One person after another came forward to tell their stories...stories of how Iolaus had made sure they were alright...bringing them food when they needed it, looking out for the children...stories of how he'd caught one young boy as he fell from a tree, how he'd found a little girl who had been lost by tracking her across the countryside and into the forest...and how he had brought her home safe and sound. Stories about how he'd taken care of the orphaned street children, feeding and clothing them...teaching them how to read. Stories about how he had saved Alcmene's life at risk of his own. Stories that proved beyond doubt that this boy had the potential to grow into a good man, if given half a chance.
Atreus called a recess to give himself time to think about the situation. Unfortunately, all the mitigating information about his character did not change the fact that Iolaus had been caught with stolen silver. He was roused from his musings by a knock on his office door. Alcmene entered and stood before him until he motioned her to a chair across from him.
"Well, Alcmene...?" he queried.
"I have an idea," she said.
Atreus and Alcmene entered the courtroom together. Taking his place at the front of the room, Atreus called Iolaus to stand before him. Iolaus rose slowly, dreading the inevitable verdict. He was pale from his injury and the pain. His left arm was supported in a sling to take the pressure off of his shoulder. Still, he stood tall, silently waiting to be sentenced.
"Iolaus," Atreus began, "you pose this court a problem. The evidence would suggest that you are a thief...but, it is circumstantial...you were caught with the goods, but not in the act of stealing. Further, you have had many people attest to your good character. Finally, last night, you risked your own life to save the life of Alcmene." Atreus paused as he considered the boy standing in front of him. Iolaus wasn't sure he understood what was happening...he expected the sentence, but...no, he dare not hope...he was caught...he had to face that.
Nodding to himself, Atreus looked once at Alcmene before turning back to Iolaus. "Given the circumstances, and taking all factors into consideration, this court believes you warrant a second chance. You are hereby ordered to attend Cheiron's Academy, to learn all that they may teach you...but, if you fail to achieve a satisfactory level of performance, if you ever attempt to run away, you will be returned to this court and sentenced as a thief. Do you understand?"
Iolaus gaped at the magistrate. He was being sent to Cheiron's Academy...it couldn't be true...it wasn't possible...was it? Dimly, he heard the magistrate repeat, "Do you understand?" Nodding, he was barely able to say, "Yes sir, thank you, sir."
And then Alcmene was beside him, hugging him tight. "I told you it would be alright!" she said with a bright, warm smile.
Iolaus blinked back the tears in his eyes and tried to swallow the lump in his throat. "You did this...for me?" he whispered in awe.
"Yes, Iolaus...for you. I should have helped you a long time ago...I'm sorry, Iolaus, you deserved better from me."
"Oh, Alcmene...." Iolaus sniffed, fighting the tears of relief and gratitude...and wonder. "I'll make you proud of me...I promise...." he whispered.
"I'm already proud of you, my son...I love you, Iolaus...you don't ever have to be alone again."
Iolaus couldn't help it...he hated to cry in front of anyone, but he couldn't hold back the tears as he clung to her. Finally, he was able to whisper back, "I...love you, too, Alcmene...I...I've always...loved you."
"I know," she murmured. "Now, let's get the things you need and get you to the Academy."
It was two days before they were ready to go. Alcmene needed to buy Iolaus the clothing and other supplies he would need for the school. She also wanted to give him some recovery time before they left. For the next two days, she cooked all of his favourite foods and did everything else she could think of to ensure he knew he was loved...that he was worth loving.
Finally, they were on their way, using a wagon the magistrate loaned to them. As they got closer to the Academy, Iolaus got quieter, evidently tense and worried.
"What is it, Iolaus?" she asked.
Iolaus hesitated, then admitted, "I'm nervous...how do you think Hercules will react?"
"He'll be glad to see you," Alcmene stated with confidence. Iolaus just snorted. The last time Herc had seen him, his friend had turned away.
Alcmene laid a hand over his. "Trust me, Iolaus, everything is going to be fine." Iolaus took a deep breath and nodded. If anyone could make it 'fine', it was Alcmene.
Iolaus waited outside Cheiron's office while Alcmene spoke with the centaur. Then, Iolaus was called in to speak with him, while Alcmene went in search of Hercules. She found her son in the exercise hall, as Cheiron had assured her she would.
Hercules was surprised to see his mother...he had not been expecting her and he wondered if something was wrong when he first saw her. She waved across the hall at him, and he jogged over to her, hugged her in welcome.
"Mother! What brings you here today?"
"Come outside with me, Hercules...there's something we need to talk about."
Alcmene led her son out of the building into the warm early summer afternoon. She sat on a bench in the courtyard and indicated he was to sit down beside her.
"Hercules, I'm going to tell you a story, and I want you to just listen until I'm finished." Herc nodded, mystified. This sounded serious.
"A few days ago, Iolaus saved my life," she began, only to have Hercules interject anxiously, "What...what happened?"
"Hercules, please, just listen," she began again. Over the next twenty minutes, she told her son what had happened, and that she had brought Iolaus to the Academy.
"But, Mother...Iolaus isn't the same as he used to be...." Herc didn't want to come right out and accuse his former friend of having gone bad. He'd been hurt badly by Iolaus...hadn't wanted to believe his friend had changed...but as the months passed, Hercules had reluctantly accepted that, while he did not understand why, or what had happened, he had lost his best friend.
"Hercules, listen to me...Iolaus has had a hard time of it. He won't tell me why he ran away, but I am sure that his father had something to do with it...and I am equally sure, that he did what he did...said what he did the last time you spoke...to somehow protect us. Iolaus is just the same as he always was...except, he has been hurt, badly hurt...and he needs your friendship more than ever. Can I count on you to let the past go...to give him another chance?"
Herc thought about this for a moment. Something inside really wanted his mother to be right. He had never stopped missing Iolaus...wishing he knew how to get his friend back....He nodded...he'd be glad to give Iolaus the chance to reclaim their friendship. He was wary of being hurt...but he was willing to try.
Alcmene smiled up at her son. She had known that she could count on him. Rising, she led Hercules back to Cheiron's office, where they waited until Iolaus emerged. Seeing Hercules, Iolaus froze. He didn't know what to say. Looking from Hercules to Alcmene, he drew strength from her look of confidence and encouragement. Turning back to Hercules, he walked up to his friend, saying, "Hercules...I'm sorry...I wish I could take it all back...I never meant what I said to you.....I hope someday you'll be able to forgive me."
That was all it took. Herc just needed to hear him say it. A broad smile on his face, Hercules held out his hand to grip Iolaus' arm in their old traditional warrior's greeting. "Welcome to the Academy, Iolaus...I've missed you." Iolaus gave his friend a shaky smile, "I've missed you, too, Herc." Hercules couldn't restrain himself...he just had to hug Iolaus...just had to take back what they had had, bury what had happened. Surprised, Iolaus just stood there for a moment, then he hugged Herc back.
Alcmene smiled as she watched her two sons welcome each other back into one another's life. The best part was the brilliant, happy smile on Iolaus' face...she had not seen that smile in a very long time....she had missed it...she had missed him. But, he was alright now...he was safe. He'd become the man he was destined to be. The lost had been found.
Finis
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