Gods.

Hercules sat back on his heels, letting his hands slip away from his sister's shoulders as he did so. Polontius was looking at him with haunted consideration, his expression bleak and his eyes filled with anguished apology. The son of Zeus couldn’t imagine what had led to the man asking such a thing - or what answer he might have been expecting to get. Questions like that didn't have answers. No wonder Iolaus had looked so preoccupied that morning.

"Like - he needs a reason," Aphrodite reacted, rolling her eyes skywards. "Love doesn't have reasons. It just is, yeah? I ought to know. And you - " she pointed at the Spartan with an accusing finger. "You got poor Curly here tying himself in knots thinking there ought to be." She threw her brother a pointed look. "I just wanted to help him figure it out. Which I did. Didn't I?"

No reason and every reason, Iolaus had said. That's just the way we are …

Hercules shivered. All the way to his soul. There had been confidence - even delight - in that realisation; an echo of the generous spirit that so fundamentally defined his friend. That same spirit which had helped shaped his life and inspired his heart so often over the years.

What would I be without him?

Purposeless.

Lost.

Alone …

"My fault," Polontius reiterated brokenly. "If I hadn't - gods," he swore with sudden heat. "I can't let this happen. I can't. Aphrodite," he requested, turning towards her with a resolute look. "You said - a gift of love could save him, didn't you?"

"Well - yeah," she shrugged. "If it's freely given."

"Then take me in his place."

What?

His attention had followed his thoughts; Hercules' eyes had been focusing on the pale figure that lay cradled in the battered shield. But the old warrior's words jerked him back to stare at the speaker with undisguised astonishment. Aphrodite's reaction was equally dumbstruck.

"You?" she squeaked, clearly not believing what she heard. The Spartan nodded, his face creased into stubborn lines of determination. The son of Zeus knew that look - and knew that, once the man adopted it, not even Jodaran would be able to change his mind.

"Me," Polontius affirmed. "Take me - my life, not his. He has so much to live for when I - " He struggled to complete the thought, wrestling with a sudden surge of emotion. "I have nothing to keep me here. Not now."

"Pol - " Hercules protested, his heart twisting inside his chest. A part of him screamed denial at the idea, at the thought of this man, to whom he owed so much, giving up life ahead of his allotted span - while the rest of him snatched at the startling generosity of the offer, at the chance of hope it offered, when it seemed that all hope had gone.

I can't let you do that.

I can't possibly …

Can I?

"No," the Spartan commanded, fixing his semi-divine friend with a firm eye. "Don't try to talk me out of this, Hercules. I know what I'm doing. Iolaus has saved my life more times than I care to think about. I owe him. I owe you. This won't repay that debt, but - at least it'll be something on account."

"That's crazy," Hercules retorted. "You don't owe either of us a thing. If anything it us that - Pol," he remonstrated softly, "I can't let you - "

"You can and you will," Polontius announced in a tone that brooked no further argument. His voice softened a little. "Be honest, huh? Iolaus is dying. He doesn’t have much time left. If the choice is between him or me - well - " A hint of a smile tugged at his lips as he glanced down at the hunter's ashen face. Iolaus' eyes were open but unfocused; his faint and ragged fight for breath was the only demonstration of his failing hold on life "That's not a choice you'll have to make. Because I've made it for you." The suspicion of a smile became the genuine article as he lifted his eyes and looked the Goddess of Love straight in the face. "Ready when you are, my lady."

"Whoa," Aphrodite reacted, putting up her hands to call a halt to events. "Just hold on here, studmuffin. Let me get this straight. You are - like - willing to die in his place, yeah?"

The Spartan nodded. "Yes. I am"

She made a face, expressing a mixture of frustration and regret. "Heroes," she sighed, rolling her eyes a little. "Noble gestures just aren't gonna cut it on this one, sugarpuff. I need a gift of the heart. I mean - selfless love of mankind is all good stuff, but - if you're gonna take his place, you gotta really love the guy. Otherwise I can't swing the deal. Now," she went on, giving a little shrug of her shoulders, " I know Curly here is pretty loveable, but - "

"I do love him," Polontius interrupted, breathing the words with unarguable conviction. "I love them both. Don't you understand that? That day - the day we first met - there were these two young men, charging out of the mist like something out of a bard's tale. They turned a desperate last stand into a chance for life - and gave me a gift I 've cherished ever since. Not my life - but the life of my heart; every day that Jo lived, I lived because of it. And they gave us years. Good years."

"Yeah," Aphrodite allowed, still looking doubtful. "Okay. But that's gratitude, not love. Nice try though …"

"There's more." The interjection was gentle; she gave him quizzical look. "Much more. I don't know if we realised that day, or when it happened, but - these two? There was something - something special about them; about the way they were. They became the sons we'd never had. Never would have. And that's how I've thought of them, all these years.

"Sweet lady," he pleaded, reaching for her hand and considering her with disconcerting intensity. "Do you know what it's like? To lose someone who's so much a part of you that, without them, you might exist but you just don't live anymore? Someone who's so close that the wound they leave behind is too deep to heal, too savage to ignore? I know. I know how it feels. I know how it tears you up inside. I know how your soul goes numb and your heart breaks and your spirit just - withers away into a cold and empty shell.

"I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy. And if there is any way that I can shield these sons' of my heart from that pain - even if only for a day, only for an hour - then I will gladly give everything I am, and more."

Gods …

Hercules had to look away; the intensity of the man's speech was almost more than his distraught heart could bear.

Don't do this, he pleaded inwardly. There has to be another way.

There wasn't - he knew there wasn't. The Fates were hovering, Atropos' shears poised to cut the threads of life; they wouldn't care which man died, just so long as someone did. Be honest, Polunitus had said - and the truth was that hurt he'd take from the older man's death would never be as wounding as the blow it would serve to deflect.

But it would still cut deep …

Aphrodite was considering the Spartan with wide eyed astonishment. "Well," she breathed, "in that case … Guess I could - give it a go. I'm not guaranteeing anything, mind. I've never actually done this before. Urmm - " The goddess stood up and took a pace back, weighing up the situation with a thoughtful frown. "Ahhh … Okay." She pounced forward, catching Polontius' hands and dragging him to his feet. "You sure you wanna do this? Cross your heart and hope … uh - you know?"

The old warrior nodded grimly. "I'm sure," he said. He glanced down at the figure cradled in his shield and his eyes narrowed. "Maybe we should hurry."

Hercules followed the line of his glance and a cold hand clenched itself around his heart. Iolaus was no longer struggling to draw breath. He lay completely still, his eyes glazed over and his face bereft of all animation, a silent corpse wrapped in a vermillion shroud.

"No!"

The cry was instinctive, a horrified denial of looming inevitability. Hercules lunged forward, seizing unresponsive shoulders and shaking them with desperate terror. "Iolaus? Iolaus! Gods, don’t - not now. Please. Please …Talk to me, will you? Say something. Do something. Just don't let go!" There was no response to his anxious pleading; when he lifted the man up, the hunter's head simply rolled to one side and stayed there, lolling limply. "No," the son of Zeus whimpered, staring at the sight in utter disbelief. "No …"

Something fluttered over him. It might have been a soft breath, or merely a whisper of wind, but with it came a momentary flickering, a beat of darkness painted against the day. The wings of Death brushed his soul; not the soft mournful presence of Celesta, his messenger, but the essence of Thanatos himself.

Noooo!

Thanatos bestirred himself only for those whose death occurred before their allotted span, the lives the Fates cut short for one reason or other: the despairing suicides, the victims of murder – and those few who willingly sacrificed themselves that others might live …

The knife in Hercules’ heart twisted, filling his world with brilliant pain - and he caught at the threatening surge of grief, seizing it and holding it in with savage anger and determination. The fight wasn't over. Not yet.

He gathered up his partner, gently pulling the limp form into his arms so that the weight of those blond locks rested on his shoulder, and he jerked his own head round, fixing his sister with a challenging glare. "Dite?" he demanded, his voice tight and his tone refuting any chance for argument. She gave him a look of decided sympathy.

"Bummer," she said. "Now that might make it complicated." She adopted a determined frown. "Never mind. We’ll just have to catch up with him before he gets too far away. You bring Curly over here, and I'll take care of all the rest."

There are some things a man does not want to get used to doing: like now, for instance, waking up to find yourself immersed in the distinctive scent of the Underworld, which was being overwhelmed by the smell of mint, and backed by the more intimate and familiar scent that was so specifically Hercules. And that because you're cradled in the man's arms again, making that so called final journey for the umpteenth time …

Well, okay, Iolaus allowed, taking a moment to just lie there and assess the situation, maybe it's not that bad. But I'd rather this didn't become a regular habit.

Any more than it already is, of course …

Then again, the fact that he was dead, did rather imply that Polontius hadn't carried out his idiotic proposal after all. Which was fine by him, because he'd feel decidedly embarrassed about someone sacrificing themselves on his account. Even though it had been precisely that which had gotten him killed in the first place.

Herc's worth it, he rationalised with remarkable modesty. I'm not.

"Shouldn't he be awake by now, or something?" The Spartan's question was puzzled rather than concerned. The sound of the man's voice triggered two immediate reactions; the first was a heartfelt and unprintable curse - and the second was a galvanised leap that took him straight out of Hercules' embrace and landed him right in front of the older warrior, his eyes flashing with decided indignation.

"Are you crazy?" he demanded, seizing Polontius' tunic with both hands and dragging him down so that he could fix him with a challenging eye. "What in Gaia's name do you think you're doing? You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't even be thinking of being here. Herc," he insisted, turning his head to locate his partner in the semi-darkness, "tell him to hightail it outta here. Right now."

"Is he always this cranky when he's dead?" Aphrodite asked, her diaphanous clad form materialising out of the gloom beside her brother.

"Every time," Hercules noted sagely. "So far."

Iolaus threw him an irritated glare. "Hey," he reacted. "You ought to try it sometime. Uhh - " He'd realised what he'd said as soon as he'd said it and grimaced disgust at his own suggestion. "You know what I mean."

"I know." The son of Zeus forgave him with a quietly amused smile. Aphrodite giggled at his expression.

"Relax, Curly," she advised. "Like - its not a permanent arrangement, yet." Iolaus frowned.

"That's what I'm mad about," he muttered, returning his attention to the man in front of him. "Pol - how could you?"

Polontius smiled, reaching to gently disentangle himself from the hunter's grip. His hands curled around leather clad wrists and held them with confident strength, his warm green eyes twinkling with a hint of laughter.

He's young, Iolaus realised, staring at him with decided disconcertion. The grey haired, weathered farmer had turned back into the sculptured, athletic charioteer that he'd met, so long ago. Younger, anyway …

"Little fish," the man asked gently. "Do you want to die?"

"Of course not. But - "

"No buts," Polontius interrupted firmly. "This is what I want. You gave me my life, a long time ago. Now I'm giving it back to you." His smile curled into a warm and wry grin. "Not because you deserve it, but - well, someone needs to keep an eye on Hercules. Keep him from trying to save the whole world at once. You know. Watch his back.

"Carry his shield."

Gods.

There was no way to answer that. The man was right. He had a place, a duty, at his best friend's side; it was where he belonged and they both knew it. But how could he let this man give up his life to keep him there?

"Sounds like a done deal to me," Aphrodite smiled. "I'd just smile and say thanks if I were you. Before he changes his mind?"

He won't …

There was a light in the Spartan's eyes, a confidence, a certainty, that he'd not seen since Jodaran's death. This was what he wanted, more than anything in the world. Death had been the doorway through which his soul had passed, and this moment had given him the key to open it; not through selfish need or hopeless despair, but as a gift of the heart. One he gave gladly, knowing that it put things right with the way he saw the world. Iolaus stared at him, feeling deeply humbled, impossibly honoured, and utterly bereft of words. Polontius would never have considered taking his life, but giving it - like this - was another matter entirely. The man had been raised to consider the sheildbearer's gift as the highest honour he might bestow on a friend.

And - despite the fact that he'd been more than willing to make that gift in defence of his partner's life - Iolaus couldn't quite believe that he was truly worthy of that honour. Unless …

The hunter glanced back towards Hercules, who was watching them both with an anxious haunted look, and a smile tugged at his lips with wry comprehension.

I know he's worth it.

And I guess this is a much a gift for him as it is for me …

The smile widened into embarrassed gratitude as he turned back to meet the waiting Spartan's eyes. "Thanks," he said, and meant it with all his heart.

"You're welcome," Polontius said, and returned the smile with one of his own.

"Wicked," Aphrodite observed approvingly. "Now, lets go talk to the man and settle this before word gets out that I've been seen down here. Like, that's totally out for the image. Me, doom, gloom? No way." She flounced away, the light that surrounded her making shadows dance around her feet. Iolaus took the opportunity to glance around and get his bearings.

They were standing in some kind of rock passageway; a wide one, with rough natural pillars intermittently spaced along it. The equally rough floor was sloped at a shallow angle, rising away from them in one direction and down in the other. The goddess was walking down, heading towards the end of the passage, where it looked as if it opened out into a more spacious cave. Torchlight flickered down there, reflected off the glimmer of water and where, among the murk, it was possible to make out the shapes of some sort of construction.

"We didn't come this way last time," Iolaus noted warily, speaking to his partner who'd silently moved to stand beside him. The place looked vaguely familiar, which was decidedly unsettling for some reason he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"No," Hercules agreed softly. "There's more than one way into the Underworld. But that's the Styx down there. And one of Charon's mooring stages. He's probably on his way here. Expecting a passenger," he concluded, glancing between his two friends as he did so.

Oh … Iolaus acknowledged the information with a comprehending grimace. Down there was the point of no return - unless you happened to have immortal blood, or the favour of the gods. Or a friend willing to take your place …

"Let's not keep him waiting then," Polontius suggested with a grin and set out after Aphrodite with an easy confident stride.

Hercules never felt entirely comfortable in the Underworld, no matter which part of it he happened to find himself in. The Elysium fields always had a hazy, not quite there quality he found disconcerting. Tarterus was either too hot or too cold, and being there made his skin crawl. Asphodel had a dreary, drab feel to it, the inevitable result of being little more than an eternal waiting room. And here? Standing on the banks of the Styx at the junction between life, Limbo, and the afterlife?

Here was always the worst place of all.

Whenever I'm here, he frowned thoughtfully to himself, its either the start of something I'm going to regret, or the end of something I already do.

He glanced sideways at his partner, knowing that this occasion fell firmly into the latter category. Regret wasn't the only issue though. There were a lot of other emotions weaving their way around the situation and Iolaus was wearing a decidedly haunted look, which wasn't at all surprising in the circumstances.

He gave me his life.

Hercules was still wrestling with that one. He'd never exercised any doubts about the depth of feeling he held for this man; time had seen their relationship deepen from friend to close comrade to brother. And not just sword brother either, although the term was a convenient way to describe something that was much closer than mere partnership and went far deeper than the simple ties of blood. As far as the son of Zeus was concerned, Iolaus was his brother, the brother of his heart and the balance to his soul. But there had always been - inevitably been - a flicker of doubt concerning the reciprocation of those feelings. No man can know another's heart. Mere words cannot truly convince, no matter how clearly expressed or how honestly offered.

But now I know …

Without doubt. Without question.

Had Hercules been almost any other member of his immortal family - including the ravishing pink clad goddess that was currently sashaying her way down towards the Styx - he would have acknowledged that understanding with confident Olympian arrogance. Ares would not be astonished at being given such a gift. He would expect it. But the half mortal son of Zeus was a humble man and he'd never been given to such vanities; the understanding that the hunter could - and would - sacrifice himself like that, without a moment's hesitation, had left him with a warm and fuzzy feeling that was hard to define and would be even harder to express.

That feeling was currently being counterbalanced by a whole slew of others - from the tight cold knot in his stomach that was refusing to let go until this matter was resolved, through the still simmering anger at his sister for creating this situation in the first place, to the nagging sense of guilt with which he watched a very old friend take deliberated steps towards his own death. He didn't want either of his friends to die, but - truth be told - while he would mourn the older man's demise, it would be a far more bearable sorrow than the potential loss that currently loomed over him.

Guilt and grief; he felt overwhelmed by both emotions, struggling with the inner fear that his sister might not be able to work her magic while facing the equally unwanted possibility that she would.

He could only begin to imagine how the Spartan's generosity was making Iolaus feel …

Aphrodite had reached the landing jetty, the light from its flickering torches glimmering across the scattering of crystals that painted her dress. "Hel-lo," she called, planting her hands on her hips and squaring up to the dark. "Goddess waiting. Service. Now," she concluded with an impatient snarl. The word rolled out across the water, echoing back with dramatic relish, and she grinned and giggled. "That was good," she noted, looking pleased with herself. "Gotta remember that one."

Hercules sighed, quietly reminding himself that she was only his half sister, and that she was currently doing her best to repair the damage she'd done. Damage, what's more, that had been brought about only through a desire to help and not from deliberate mischief. "Uh - Dite?" he started to point out. "I don't think Charon - "

""Okay already!" A deep and sepulchral voice suddenly boomed out of the darkness. "Sheesh. Some people … I'm coming. I'm coming. Whoa." The owner of the voice had obviously got close enough to see what was waiting for him. "I'm definitely coming. Stay there, sweetheart. I'll be right withya."

Aphrodite giggled again, flashing her brother a smug I know best look. He sighed a second time, glancing at his partner for moral support and getting back an amused grin - which wasn't a lot of help, but was oddly reassuring all the same.

You can grin, his eyes protested with an affectionate frown. She's not your sister …

The prow of a boat loomed into view, torchlight reflecting of the bone white carvings that decorated it. It was an old boat, weathered and distressed by age, and it glided towards the jetty in almost total silence, accompanied only by an occasional faint splash and the echo of water dripping somewhere impossibly close yet indefinably far away.

"Uh," Aphrodite reacted, grimacing at the vessel as it emerged into the light. "Grue-some. This place desperately needs a makeover. Still," she considered with a small shrug, "top marks for atmosphere. And it's not - like - gross. In fact," she decided after a moment or two, "it's kinda neat. If you're into this kinda thing. I guess." She tilted her head to one side and watched as the boat drew closer; it was clear, as the torchlight played over the gunwales that the hooded ferryman who propelled the vessel was not alone. Another figure occupied the boat, a dark haired, compactly built individual who was sitting sprawled across the seats with the casual pose of a man that had made himself comfortably at home.

"Jo?" Polontius breathed, expressing the disconcerted recognition that had dawned on all three of the warriors gathered on the jetty. The dark head turned lazily, an indolent smile writing itself across familiar features.

"Hey, kid," Jodaran drawled. Then the smile froze; its owner’s eyes went wide with alarm and the man scrambled round to stare at his partner with a mixture of astonishment and agitation. "Pol?" he questioned in total disbelief. The boat rocked under the suddenness of the movement and it bumped into the jetty with an echoing thud.

"Ssidown," Charon complained from the stern, hauling up his pole and using it to poke at his passenger. "Quit rocking the boat! Sheesh. Da’noirve of some people! What is all this, anyway? A convention?"

"As if," Aphrodite reacted, deftly stepping in front of the Spartan before he could complete his instinctive pace forward. "Hold the horses, studmuffin. Don’t sour the deal on me here. I gotta a little – magic to work, remember?"

"Uh – yeah," Polontius acknowledged distractedly. His eyes were fixed on the armoured figure in the boat; Jodaran, in turn, was staring back at him, his disconcerted puzzlement slowly dropping into a frown.

"Phmph," the goddess snorted, rolling her eyes a little. "Yo! Big bro? Make sure he stays here, will ya? And Curly?" she added, smiling brightly at Iolaus, "don’t go anywhere near that boat, okay?"

"Gotcha," the hunter shot back, casting round to find a sensible place to sit. There was a large flat rock projecting from the cave wall beside the jetty and he walked across to perch himself on the edge of it, trying to look unconcerned, although to Hercules – who could read his body language like a scroll - his casual pose was about as convincing as a wax dinar.

He has every right to be on edge, he reminded himself, and focused his attention on more immediate issues. Aphrodite’s request hadn’t been an offhand one: if Polontius stepped into the boat before she’d managed to confirm the specifics of her arrangement, then he’d forfeit his life for nothing - and Hercules could well be returning to the mortal world completely alone.

"What, in the name of all the gods, are you doing here?" Jodaran was demanding belligerently, leaning on the gunwale and glowering at his partner with decided irritation. "Hey, Hercules. This long streak of nothing’s supposed to have years yet. I’ve been settling in for a siege. Whatcha doin, bringing him down here before his time?"

"Not my idea," Hercules sighed. "He insisted."

"Insisted?" Jodaran growled, his dark eyes flashing. "What did I teach you kid? Never volunteer for anything, remember? Least of all front line duty! Sheesh," he concluded, an oddly resonant echo of Charon’s earlier exclamation, "Some people." He leant back and gave the Spartan a long and thoughtful look – one that managed to hold regret, admonition, affection, understanding and pleasure, all at the same time. "What ya do, Pol?," he drawled warmly. "Let that noble streak of yours get the upper hand again?"

Polontius adopted a quiet smile, utterly unfazed by the gruff reception. "Something like that," he admitted. He shot a fleeting look over his shoulder, the smile widening a little as he located Iolaus, sitting out of harms way. "Our little fish got himself caught between the advance and the retreat again. My fault," he admitted softly, seeking his partner’s eyes. "I can’t let him die, old man. Not because of me. Not when – " he caught back a breath, glancing at the son of Zeus beside him. Hercules grimaced, reaching to squeeze his shoulder with comprehending sympathy.

"Iolaus - gave his life for mine," he explained , his voice husky with emotion. "Pol seems to think it has something to do with him. Personally, I don’t want either of them down here, but – that’s not my choice to make."

Jodaran nodded, expressing a sage compression of the situation. "Charioteer’s first rule, huh?" he suggested, and sighed. "Makes a stubborn headed kinda sense I guess."

Hercules frowned for a moment, trying to place the reference. Jodaran had defined innumerable ‘rules’ over the course of his life - most of which were terse expressions of military sense as well as applicable philosophy. He ought to know this one.

Charioteer’s first rule … Oh, yeah.

He allowed himself a haunted smile.

Never break up a good team …

"I dunno," Charon was complaining, his gruff voice echoing with its usual sepulchral overtones. "These tickets ain’t usually transferable. I mean – what’s the boss gonna say, huh? Huh? It’s really gonna mess up his paperwork. He hates that. Likes to keep everything nice and tidy. Know what I mean?"

"Like, yeah," Aphrodite responded, rolling her eyes a little. "Everything in triplicate and countersigned in all the right places, right? Well, forget that. If you and I can come to a little deal here, Uncle Hades need never even know. Whatdya say, mm? If I say please? Pretty please?" she added, fluttering her eyelashes at the ferryman and giving him her best coquettish smile. Hercules would never have fallen for such transparent inveigling, but she was his sister; Charon had no such defences against the undeniable charms of the Goddess of love. He crumbled instantly.

"Well," he drawled, trying to sound reluctant about it. "Maybe I could …"

"That was quick," Jodaran muttered to no-one in particular. Hercules shrugged.

"He doesn’t get out much …"

"Ace!" Aphrodite reacted, darting forward to plant a quick kiss on the ferryman’s pale cheek. "You’re a real sweetie. A little – gruesome," she qualified matter of factly, then giggled. "But still a sweetie."

"Huh," Charon chuckled, looking decidedly embaressed. "Huh. Yeah. Yeah. Whatever. Just make it quick, huh? Huh," he chuckled again. "Well. Huh. Maybe not that quick …"

"Get outta here," Aphrodite laughed, flicking at him with the back of her hand. She turned to beckon Iolaus over. "Hey, Curly. You’re on. You too, studmuffin," she added, including the Spartan in her summons. He turned towards Hercules with a poignant smile.

"Guess this is it," he said. He put out his hand and the son of Zeus reached to clasp his arm, briefly locking the two of them together with a firm warriors grip. "Listen," Polontius breathed, green eyes meeting anxious blue ones, "I meant what I said. About the two of you. You keep an eye on him, you hear? I know he’ll be looking out for you …"

Gods …

There just weren’t the words. Hercules pulled him forward and into a heartfelt hug, hoping that it would convey the churning emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. The hollowness of grief. The sting of guilt. And the warmth of measureless gratitude...

"Hey," Jodaran growled warmly from the boat. "Put him down, big guy. That’s my job."

For the rest of eternity. Hercules let the man slide from his arms, watching as he walked those last few steps to the Goddess’ side. Iolaus was standing beside her, her hand resting lightly on his arm; the look that he gave Polontius mirrored the feelings that his partner had just tried so hard to express.

"Pol –" the hunter began to say. He didn’t even get a chance to finish the man’s name. The Spartan wrapped him up in a determined embrace, one that the hunter returned with feeling.

"Now he’s making it a habit." The complaint was an affectionate one; Hercules found himself smothering a reactive snort of laughter. "He’d better be saving some of that for me."

"You got forever for that," Charon pointed out gruffly. "Just so long as you take it elsewhere. Huh. This is a ferryboat. Not a cruise liner."

Forever …

Hercules briefly tore his gaze away from the emotional exchange between his two friends to steal a glance at the third. Jodaran was also watching the moment, with a look that was almost smouldering. Warriors of Rome often had the reputation of being possessively jealous, but it wasn’t distrust that fired the older man’s dark eyes. It was love, pure and simple. A little of it, perhaps, for the compact hunter he’d rescued on a battlefield so long ago – but most of it for the long limbed Spartan, who loved them both so much that he was willing to give up his life to prove it.

Aphrodite was looking impressed.

"Now that’s stuff I can use," she declared with relish. "Ain’t love grand?"

She took a small step backwards and raised her hands. Motes of golden light spilled out from between them, cascading over the two men as they stood wrapped together. Hercules blinked. For a moment it had seemed as if the image of two had blurred into one – and then Polontius was stepping backwards with a reluctant step, hands and arms sliding down until they were standing face to face, their hands still locked firmly together.

"All the way," the goddess encouraged with an amused smile. The Spartan sighed.

And let go.

Gods that was weird …

Iolaus gave himself a small shake, disconcerted by the way every inch of himself seemed to be tingling with energy. Polontius was smiling at him, conscious perhaps that – where he had given, the hunter had received. Received a gift of life, something which he hadn’t even noticed he’d been missing until it had poured itself over and through him in unstinting abundance. Their souls had touched, albeit briefly; everything that might be asserted, that ought to be settled, had been exchanged in that moment, a silent and heartfelt conversation that had left nothing to be said.

So he returned the smile with a grin and jerked his head in Jodaran’s direction, knowing that that was where his friend’s heart belonged and always had. The Spartan laughed, a warm and generous sound that had no place in those gloomy caverns but expressed the moment perfectly. His smile flicked only briefly towards Aphrodite before he turned and walked the final distance with eager steps.

His partner was waiting for him, standing up and reaching out to help him into the boat. Their hands touched, their eyes met – and then they were together, wrapped in each other’s arms as if nothing could ever tear them apart.

And nothing ever will …

Iolaus sighed softly to himself. There are some things that are just meant – and he knew that these two souls shared a relationship that transcended fate and time and would truly last for eternity. Not unlike another partnership he knew – and treasured beyond all rational measure.

"So that’s that then," Hercules murmured, moving to stand at his shoulder and watch as Charon pushed the boat out into the river and begin to pole it away. The ferryman was muttering to himself, half complaining, half chuckling over the unseemly smiles and laughter of his passengers.

"Guess so," Iolaus agreed easily. He lifted his arms and folded them with deliberation, a gesture the man beside him matched with unconscious synchronicity. There was a – comfortableness – in that unspoken commonality. There was no need for words, or looks, or gestures; they would have expressed unnecessary emotions, and just got in the way somehow.

"I – uh – just wanted to say – thanks," the son of Zeus noted, sounding almost offhand about it.

"You’re welcome," the hunter said, reading the remark the way it was meant and knowing exactly what it conveyed. "Anytime."

"Yeah." Hercules acknowledged, a little self-consciously. "Well, about that – "

"Anytime," Iolaus repeated firmly, his eyes still fixed on the boat as it vanished into the darkness. There was a moment’s pause – so short a one that only he would have recognised it as such – and then his partner heaved an accepting sigh.

"Okay."

The hunter allowed himself a quiet smile, aware that, for once, he’d actually won the sort of argument that his best friend was usually so stubborn about. He was usually right, too – but not on this occasion. Because, if the same danger threatened tomorrow, if the same options were the only ones open to him, Iolaus knew he’d make exactly the same choice as he had today.

Just as he knew that – should the situation be reversed – the man beside him wouldn’t hesitate any more than he had.

That’s just the way we are …

Aphrodite was grinning at them, shaking her head in mock despair. "You two," she sighed, rolling her eyes with patient exasperation.

"What?" they both chorused, staring at her in puzzlement and she burst out laughing.

"Never mind," she decided with amusement. "You’ll work it out. I’m outta here. And so are you," she added, and the Underworld dissolved into a flare of golden light.

They gave Polontius a charioteer’s farewell, building a pyre around his chariot and laying his shield and his partner’s javelins beside him before they lit the fire. The smoke spiralled up to heaven as dusk rolled in across the land that he’d loved – and afterwards they scattered the ashes across the same ground that had received Jodaran’s remains, barely a year before.

They did all that in silence, each of them absorbed in the memories of the two men who’d played such an important part in their lives. Good ones mostly – of lessons learned and advice received, of comradeship in battle and friendships shared in peace time – and none of them recalled with regret. In the morning – after they’d set the horses free to roam until Milos and Iphicles could appoint someone to take care of them – they set out on the road back to Corinth, still keeping their own counsel, walking side by side, without need for words.

Content, for a time, to simply be together.

Just as they were meant to be …

The shield bearer's gift is always a gift of the heart. Few earn the right to it. Fewer still have the strength to give it.

But what sort of man would you have to be to do a thing like that?

A true hero?

No – a true friend.