Heaven Must be Missing an Angel
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He'd wrestled with that one all night,
and never quite came up with an answer. A part of him insisted that his partner
had to know, another part worried about what the reaction might be
if he did, and the rest of him just struggled with how he'd ever begin
to explain it in the first place. He eventually decided that he probably should
tell him - but he wasn't sure he could find the right words, and even than
he really needed just the right moment to raise the subject.
Somehow the opportunity never seemed to arise.
That first morning had definitely not been the time; Hercules had woken early, greeted him without thinking too much about it, and had been halfway through packing up camp when comprehension had hit him. He'd spent the rest of the day throwing disbelieving glances in his friend's direction, almost as if expected to wake up any minute and find the whole thing to have been a dream. Iolaus had quickly realised that a blithe announcement of 'hey, yeah, I know I'm back, but - ' would have just been that little too much for the son of Zeus to cope with there and then.
After that the chances of a suitable opening had grown slimmer and slimmer. Events had come at them both with a rush - like that scroll from Iphicles requesting they (for that read Hercules - Iolaus doubted that the harassed King of Corinth had any idea that his brother's partner, dead these two years past was actually back where he belonged) make a hasty diplomatic trip to Egypt. The journey aboard a small and crowded ship hadn't exactly offered sensible opportunities for any kind of personal discussion - and then the complexities of the situation in Egypt itself had rather overshadowed the potential moments of 'hey, Herc - there was something I've been meaning to talk to you about …' It was hardly the sort of thing you raised in casual conversation - and most of the time Iolaus almost forgot about it himself, absorbed as he was in the rediscovery of what living was all about. Almost, but not quite. There were some things - things about himself - that acted as salutary reminders, and as he'd become aware of them, he'd become aware of something else as well.
That the summoning of the horsemen had subtly altered the balance of the world.
The power of the older gods had been changing in manifestation and focus for a while now. He knew that - it had been one of the things that he'd been taught during his induction into the Reverie. It was part of the great cycle that allowed the world to live and grow and breath; ascendancy and jurisdiction shifted and changed among the greater powers just as it did among the kingdoms of men. The heavenly host always served the Light, but the Light itself manifested in many ways, and through many other agencies. Once, mankind had been no more than a mindless child, in need of direct supervision and guidance. Now that humanity had began to mature, those who had once influenced and commanded would have to discover how to inspire and advise instead. New rules were coming into play; those that learned and adapted would survive and grow through the experience. Those that didn't would either sink into somnolence, waiting for the time when they could be called upon again, or else be sidelined, forgotten, or even forced to adapt - probably through the corruption of Darkness, which would devour even the greatest of gods, given half a chance.
Like Dahok, Iolaus considered, and shuddered inwardly at the thought. He was sitting on temple steps at the time, waiting for Hercules to finish the polite 'no problem' conversation he was conducting with the local town magistrate. The Temple was an old one and its walls thrummed softly with the power that long years of worship had woven into them. That was one of the things that helped remind him he was no longer merely mortal; his ability to sense the patterns in sacred spaces and the resonances of the powers they were aligned with. Not that he could do anything with any of that - just that he could now read and recognise the signs of deity (and/or demon he suspected) in the same way that he could track rabbit or hunt deer.
Aeon Iolaus, demon hunter, he labeled himself ironically, well aware that this particular temple was resonant with Demeter's aura and that no self respecting demon was likely to be anywhere within a league of the place. The one thing that he'd learnt pretty quickly was that, while he might be serving his exile from the celestial realm as an angel rather than a man, he was still very much an apprentice at the whole game.
'Your powers are limited,' Michael had said. Truth was, they were practically non-existent. He'd found himself to be a little faster in a fight - but he still took blows and he definitely still took bruises. He had certain instincts he had to stamp on - like wanting to heal every wounded soul and ailing child they came across - simply because acting on those instincts left him weak, shaking, and sick to the stomach. He had the ability to read signs of power, possession, or enchantment, could sometimes spot when somebody was lying, and couldn't get drunk no matter how much wine and ale he consumed. Oh - and he pissed pure water, which had scared the wits out of him, the first time he'd noticed …
But that was it. Other than the wings - which he'd kept hidden unless he was completely alone - and the sword, which he'd never drawn and was rather hoping he'd never have to. All of which served to make him - just as the archangel had suggested - more or less a mortal with an unusual edge. And it was one he really ought to tell his partner about, but he didn't know how, and was still looking for the right moment when.
Besides, manifesting in his true form had turned out to be both ecstasy and agony; while it brought with it a sense of freedom and power that was decidedly heady, it also came packaged with a feeling of loss and isolation so deep that it left him depressed for hours afterwards. He suspected it might become a little more bearable with practice, but the opportunities to practice were few and far between. Especially as his best friend currently had no idea, and until he did, letting anyone else in on the secret was completely out of the question.
Hercules really deserved to know. Not just because they were best buddies and partners and all that other 'back to back heroes' stuff. For one thing, if he knew, he might stop being quite so protective. Iolaus understood why the man might be inclined to watch over him like a hawk whenever they got into a fight - he'd died in his friend's arms often enough to comprehend how traumatic the experience was for both of them - but it was getting decidedly irritating, not to mention restrictive. For another, the shifting balance of power in the world was drawing them into situations the big guy just wasn't prepared for. The breaking of the seals had realigned the outer realms; Heaven and Hell now lay as close as Elysium and Tarterus, and these days they were just as likely to be facing demons as they were Titans and monsters.
And to fight demons, you need a demon hunter …
This time he grinned, recognising that he'd just encircled himself in his own logic. It wasn't a cynical thought at all; it was a deadly serious one, and it was about time he faced the fact. He'd been sent back to serve a purpose as well as a punishment. Hercules had grown beyond the cradle of his own origins; he had become the champion and defender of humanity, and he'd been given a weapon to aid him in that fight.
As in - me, Iolaus sighed, wondering just what he'd done to deserve all this - and then remembered and sighed a second time.
I am just gonna have to tell
him.
Somehow …
"Ready?" Hercules asked warmly, bidding his last farewell to the town elders and turning towards his partner with a smile. Iolaus often wondered how long it would take before the man lost the disconcerted sense of wonder that sometimes surfaced his eyes. He guessed he was a miracle, and he shouldn't take it for granted, but the grateful amazement with which his best friend occasionally greeted him was also vaguely embarrassing. It was something he didn't really feel that he deserved.
It might even get worse. If he knew …
Well, the middle of a town square, outside a Temple of Demeter on market day was definitely not the place for those kind of revelations; he snatched up his pack and the sword he'd liberated from some bandit or other somewhere on the trail, scrambled to his feet and responded to the smile with a warm grin of his own.
"I've been ready for hours," he complained, albeit without heat. "Did they all have to thank you personally?"
Hercules grimaced apologetically. "Yeah. Sorry about that. I tried to explain that I didn't catch all those bandits alone, but - "
"Hey," Iolaus interrupted, giving the man a friendly punch to his shoulder. "I'm cool, okay? I got all the thanks I needed …" He glanced back towards the Temple as he said it, knowing that the two nubile priestess they'd rescued from the bandit camp were on duty at the main door. One of them caught the glance, nudged the other, and then they both giggled and waved, a quick self-conscious wiggle of fingers backed by hopeful invitation.
Hercules rolled his eyes skywards, reaching to drape his arm around his friend's shoulders so that he could stare down at him with reproachful amusement. "Both of them?" he inquired pointedly. The hunter coloured a little.
"Well," he shrugged. "Didn't seem fair to choose…"
The son of Zeus laughed, releasing his hold with a friendly - and generous - push that made its recipient skip step down several of the stone risers. "I don't want to know," Hercules declared, striding past him heading for the way out of town. Iolaus grinned, turned back to wave at the girls one last time, and then hurried after him, falling into step with practiced ease.
As it happened he hadn't shared anything more than a generous kiss with either of the priestesses, although that had been a pretty pleasant experience in itself. In fact, despite his joking complaint that one of the things he'd missed most about the mortal world had been the women, he hadn't dared become - intimate - with anyone since his return. He had the worrying feeling that, in the throes of passion, he might unwittingly reveal his true nature, which he felt would not be a good idea on the whole.
Besides, he'd given his heart, quite literally, to a certain Summarian princess, and - while he suspected that resuming that relationship would be a bad idea for both their sanities - it was going to take a while for him to stop thinking about her every time a good looking woman made overtures in his direction.
Hercules hadn't made much mention of Nebula, just explained that she'd gone home to rule her country, just as Morrigan had gone back to Eire to follow her own destiny. Somehow the two of them had made an unspoken and mutual agreement to leave both of those matters right there. It was past, it was over, and that was all that needed to be said. Unlike the subject of the amused recollections that occasionally surfaced over the camp fire: in the weeks since his return Iolaus had heard more about his 'other' self than he really wanted to know.
But helping him helped keep the big guy sane, he reasoned, oddly unresentful of the man who'd briefly usurped his place. He'd gone straight from fighting Dahok into the light of the Reverie; Hercules had been left behind, to cope with all that stuff alone.
If I could have stayed …
He'd had no choice. They both knew that.
"So where we headed?" he asked brightly, focusing on the future, rather than the unchangeable past. Hercules' thoughtful expression creased into a frown.
"Agiori. News is that a number of ships have been lost off the coast there - and there are rumors that the King's going to try reviving the old custom of offering sacrifices to the sea."
"Like that's gonna make any difference."
"Exactly. But there may be something we can do." He paused to throw his partner another of those 'I can't believe my luck' looks, and then smiled. "And if it turns out to be nothing - we can always go fishing."
Iolaus' face lit up. "Fishing?" he echoed. "Now, that sounds like a great idea."
It was at least three day walk to Agiori. Hercules spent most of the journey trying hard not to laugh out loud. For two years he'd walked a careful path between cherished memory and the sense of emptiness that came with its recollection; now he wasn't just recalling the good times, he was actually living them again - with a vengeance.
Those first few days of his return, Iolaus had enthused about how wonderful it was to rediscover the simple joys of living. Taste, touch, heat, cold, scent, sight - every sensation had sparked the light of wonder in his eyes, and Hercules had been right there with him, marveling at things that it had always been so easy just to take for granted. As the weeks passed, the son of Zeus had begun to realise that part of the joy of having his partner - his true partner, rather than the man who'd so closely echoed him - back at his side, was rediscovering all those things that he had taken for granted over the years.
The feast of the man's friendship, which had fed and sustained his soul even in the leanest and hungriest of times.
Despite his best efforts there had always been a space between him and that 'other' Iolaus; the jester had a wary and introspective side that had never quite accepted the miracle he'd been handed. He'd always looked at Hercules with a hint of disconcerted wonder and a sense of quiet awe: the son of Zeus had never quite known how to handle it.
But he was acutely conscious that he'd become guilty of assuming exactly the same look whenever he was reminded of the reality of his miracle - which was practically every day, if not every waking hour.
Maybe I can't quite believe it, he thought, smiling as his friend launched into one of those conversations - the ones where he asked a question and then immediately answered it himself, his words dancing through the subject with indecent haste and sideways logic that needed a mind like quicksilver to follow it. Hercules usually didn't bother; Iolaus always got to the point in the end, and his voice was familiar company, needing only the occasional nod or comment to keep it bubbling away until he got there.
Maybe I'm afraid to believe it …
He'd grown accustomed to loss in the course of his life, learning to treasure what he had while he had it, since fate and the gods seemed to constantly conspire to take away the things he cherished most. Memories of his family - safe now in Elysium - sat like warm embers in his soul. Memories of his mother - equally safe - shaped his heart and comforted him in times of doubt.
But his memories of this man were inevitably painted with the guilt and terror that his loss had inspired. His death hadn't just hurt - it had ripped him to the soul. And the events that had followed, the comprehension - first that he'd been unable to retrieve or even find the hunter's spirit, and then, secondly that the reason for the failure was because that spirit had been taken, imprisoned, by the corruption that was Dahok - had shaken both his confidence and his sense of self worth. He had failed his friend. Not just once, in that moment of horror in Summaria, but afterwards, and for months. Seeking escape from his pain and his guilt, refusing to accept the truth and having to suffer further loss because he couldn't face his own personal demons.
'What kept you?' Iolaus had joked, that day they'd finally faced down the darkness together. His faith had never wavered. But Hercules had gone through the abyss and back, betrayed by his own fears, and wallowing in his pain.
Was it so strange that he felt unworthy of the gift he'd now been given? That every day he feared to find all this was just a dream, a sadistic joke wrought by some dark power who would snatch this miracle away and laugh as he was once again swallowed up in endless despair?
"… so I think we should take an extra sail, and then we can make like a - tent - out over the water, and the fish will think it's night and come closer to the surface, and then they'll be easier to catch. You think that'll work? I think that'll work. We're gonna need some poles or something to hang the canvas on of course …"
Hercules shrugged and nodded, and the hunter went on with his discourse, laughing at his own jokes, rejecting his more wild flights of fancy and just generally being Iolaus without even trying too hard.
Gods, the son of Zeus considered with disconcerted wonder. I missed this …
He let the man's voice enfold him, immersing himself in it, not caring what he said, just that he was there to say it.
You'd think, he smiled wryly to himself, that after everything he's been through, he'd be a changed man.
He'd been savagely murdered and then possessed by dark chaotic forces; his soul had been imprisoned and besieged by the temptations of corruption and malignancy, until, freed by his own faith and sheer determined stubbornness, he'd been welcomed into the Light and given a place in eternal glory. A place which, it had to be said, he'd deliberately walked away from, measuring his sense of friendship and the values for which the two of them had always fought, to be more important than even the judgement of the higher powers.
It had been a test. But he hadn't known that. He'd risked everything that he'd gained, his place in the Light, his very soul - to be true to his heart and do what he believed to be right.
A lesser man would have been shattered by those experiences.
But then a lesser man would have surrendered to Dahok long before Hercules had figured out what had happened to him - or maybe not even have got in the way of that cursed knife in the first place.
"… hot spice and olive oil, I think. I don't know exactly what they use, but it makes this - crackly, crunchy kind of finish, yeah? And they stuff it with raisins and wheat and - ah - whatever, and it just melts when you bite into it …"
Iolaus had gone from talking about fishing to talking about food - both subjects dear to his heart and even closer to his stomach. He hadn't changed. Not where it mattered; he'd always taken hold of life with both hands and plunged in deep, living every moment and meeting every challenge with an incorrigible smile. If anything, he seemed to have more energy and enthusiasm than ever, although - Hercules threw his companion a thoughtful glance - there had been moments of silence, times when an oddly haunted look had crossed his otherwise sunny features. Mostly at night, when they'd been sat watching the stars or staring into a camp fire. The son of Zeus had never dared to broach what thoughts might lie behind those moments of introspection. Those experiences had touched his friend; how deeply, only time would tell.
" … so, when we get to Agiori - " The unmistakable sound of a scream interrupted the seemingly endless flow of words. The two of them exchanged a look - and then they were running, hurtling down the trail towards the sounds of distress.
Trouble wasn't far away.
There were only seven of them; a bunch of burly sailor types dressed like would be pirates. One of them even had the obligatory patch over one eye. They were strolling down the road to the beach as if they didn't have a care in the world - although the two young children that were with them clearly had serious objections to their company. The boy was struggling like a hooked fish under the arm of one sailor and the girl - unquestionably the originator of the scream - was currently kicking the thighs of the man carrying her. He had his hand over her mouth and was laughing at her attempts to escape his restraint.
Hercules threw a quick glance in his friend's direction. Iolaus nodded and quickly scuttled off to the right, heading up the slope towards the lower end of the dunes that overlooked the road's descent.
…five, six …
The son of Zeus gave his partner just enough time to get into position and then strolled casually out into the road behind the unsavoury group.
"Recruiting them a little young, aren't you?" he suggested, giving them his best 'well hello and what do we have here?' smile. The group halted in their tracks, turning almost as one man to stare at the interloper with hostile eyes.
"Ain't none of your business, mister," one of them growled, stepping forward with a menacing glare.
"Well," Hercules considered thoughtfully, "you might think that. But I don't. Now, if we could just talk about this …"
The five unencumbered men drew their
swords and charged at him, yelling angrily. He sighed.
"Why does nobody want to talk anymore?" he complained, ducking
the wild sweep of the fastest runner and decking him with a backhand that
threw him back into another of his comrades. "You just sit down - "
He grabbed the arm of the next man, knocked the sword out of his hand with
an upward jab of his knee and then flipped him over with a casual toss. "-
talk your problems through - " Two charged at once. He leapt straight
up into the air, lashing out with both feet and knocked them both down simultaneously.
"- come to an amicable agreement … " He jumped back as the
blade of the last man slashed savagely in his direction, then dropped and
rolled, bowling the man straight off his feet. He kicked out as he bounced
back up, disarming his floored attacker, then swung round to strike down the
one that was trying to creep up behind him.
"And that way," Hercules concluded with a thoughtful smile, straightening up to find himself surrounded by a group of groaning, semi-conscious men, "nobody gets hurt."
The clash of steel further down the road spun him round , his smile dropping into a look of alarm.
That had better include Iolaus …
He broke into a run, pounding down the slope with anxious haste. It wasn't that he didn't know that his friend was perfectly capable of taking care of himself - especially when all he was facing were two dull-witted thugs who thought that intimidating children was funny. It was just that, these days, a fearful part of his soul didn't trust fate to keep the man safe, and believed that - if he wasn't there to keep him out of trouble - something bad was likely to happen.
On this occasion he might well have been right.
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'Heaven Must be Missing an Angel'- Chapter One. Disclaimer:This
story has been written for love rather than profit and is not intended to
violate any copyrights held by Universal, Pacific Rennaisance, or any other
holders of Hercules: The Legendary Journeys trademarks or copyrights.
© 2001. Written by Pythia. Reproduced by Penelope Hill