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"I'm sorry."

Hercules sighed. This was the fifth apology in as many minutes. Since their somewhat hurried departure from Nemia, Iolaus' spirits had plummeted dramatically, and he could barely bring himself to meet the demigod's eyes. There had been little conversation and what there was of it had been stilted at best, all of it initiated by Hercules, to be met with a monosyllabic response from his uncharacteristically despondent friend.

It seemed to Hercules that it had been weeks since he had heard the hunter's, delicious, infectious giggle - although there had been that brief moment back in town, before Iolaus had remembered the things he had done whilst suffering from memory loss. Then his face had taken on a haunted expression and he had sunk onto a seat near the fountain, an aura of self-condemnation surrounding him, tainting the golden halo which usually blazed forth, blinding everyone around with its intensity.
It had taken pretty some fast talking on the demigod's part to convince Iolaus that none of the events during his brief fling with amnesia had been his fault and that, whilst his behaviour had not been exactly exemplary, his heroic tendencies had come to the fore despite Fortune's bungled endeavours, which had wiped his memories clean of every last trace of his life since he was 15.

"You risked your life to save Xeno," he had reminded the hunter, desperate to remove from that beloved face the utter horror at what he had become and what he had done during their time apart. The cerulean eyes which had met his had brightened a little at this gentle refreshing of his more recent memories, but as recollection came flooding back, it had been accompanied by a guilt which could not be assuaged by mere words. No amount of reassurance from Hercules, nor acceptance of his less than valiant actions in Nemia could stem the rising tide of despair which was threatening to submerge and then drown him in its deep and murky waters.

His self-condemnation stemmed initially from the incident on the bridge, when the woman he had been trying to save had fallen to her death. That had been the catalyst for everything which had happened since - the breakup of his partnership with his dearest friend, his shame and grief as the image of the dead woman's face ran interminable circles through his ever-active brain, and Fortune's arrival on the scene, her offer to erase from his mind the memory of his failed rescue attempt backfiring dramatically as she also removed all the years he had spent at Hercules' side, not to mention the friendship itself.

At 15 years old, Iolaus had run away from home. Hercules well remembered the occasion. General Skouros had returned home for a brief visit and had once again managed to find the right words to hurt his eldest son - a boy who had wanted nothing more than acceptance and love from the father he had once considered a hero. Hercules, aware of the father's visit and only too conscious of the fact that these brief sojourns home only ever succeeded in upsetting his friend, had persuaded Iolaus to go fishing with him for the day, thus removing from the General any further temptation to verbally abuse his offspring.

It had taken a while, but gradually, surrounded by the peace and beauty of their favourite fishing spot and basking in the glow of his friend's obvious love for him, Iolaus had relaxed and all but forgotten his father's cruelty. They had returned home full of good cheer and carrying a multitude of fish - Hercules' pile slightly larger than his friend's thanks to his recently discovered method of bopping the poor, unsuspecting creatures with a skilfully thrown rock.

Iolaus had disappeared that night. Hercules had never found out the full details of what had transpired after they had arrived at their respective homes that evening. All Iolaus had ever told him was that the General had made it plain that he was unwelcome in his own home and that Arathea would be better off without the extra mouth to feed. Ever conscious of the fact that his beloved mother constantly struggled to feed and clothe her children, and stung by the cruel remarks delivered by a father who was so obviously deeply disappointed in the runt who had never lived up to his expectations, Iolaus had retaliated. His father had hit him - the blow knocking him across the room where he hit his head on the wall. Struggling to his feet, wiping tearfully at the blood which was running down his temple, Iolaus had run.

He had been gone for months. Even before General Skouros returned to battle, Arathea was searching for her lost son, enlisting the help of her neighbours, Alcmene and Hercules. The latter had shared many a confidence with the smaller, blond boy, talking about their respective fathers, admitting their fears and loneliness to each other and growing closer with each passing day. He alone was only too well aware of how vulnerable and sensitive his best friend was beneath the vibrant and carefree persona he presented to the world at large. He alone realised that, this time, Skouros could have done untold damage. They may have lost Iolaus for good. The thought still chilled him to this very day.

The young demigod had searched each and every one of their favourite spots for signs of his friend. There had been no indication in any of them that Iolaus had even visited there. He had not given up, however. Stubborn-ness was the only trait which Iolaus had found irritating in his best friend, but it had served Hercules well during this time. Eventually, his persistence and sheer determination had paid off. A few months later, he finally located Iolaus.

The other boy's flight had found him in the forest, where his injury finally took his toll and he had collapsed, unconscious, to the detritus-ridden ground. When he finally awoke, dazed and disoriented, he had no recollection of why he was running, from whom, or, at first, who he was.

His name had returned to him, eventually - but that had been all he could remember. He had been running toward Alcmene's house before his collapse, seeking the comfort of his best friend. With only his name and no other memory, however, he had turned in another direction, wandering away from all and everyone who knew him.

He had eventually wound up living on the streets, taken in by a gang of pickpockets who had taught him how to live their way - stealing to get by; taking what was necessary for their survival. Iolaus had not enjoyed stealing, but he discovered a natural aptitude for it, his size and speed serving him well; his small, nimble fingers serving him even better. He had only been caught once, when the owner of a jewellery stall had seen him and some of the other boys taking some of his wares, and had chased them down. However, Iolaus' s agility had ensured that he escaped - but it had been straight into the arms of an immoveable object at the end of the street. Hercules.

There had been some fast talking then, too. The young demigod had missed his friend more than he had been willing to admit, even to himself, and so, when he had found his arms full of the smaller boy, it had taken a while to for him let go. Iolaus, shocked at first by someone's sudden, unexpected appearance there, then, by turn, fearful, ashamed and angry, had struggled to free himself from the firm embrace - to no avail. It was whilst wrapped in the strong arms that he finally realised who he was, and, more to the point, who was practically sobbing with relief and joy at having found him.

That was when he realised that the feelings of loneliness and loss he had been experiencing during the last months had been his subconscious trying to tell him of this friend he had left behind and they had spent the rest of the afternoon and that evening talking and making up for lost time.

Iolaus's boyhood 'crimes' had been easily forgiven, by Hercules, his mother and, most especially, by Arathea, who was so glad to have her boy back that she would have promised him practically anything to make him stay. His first and only foray as a thief was over and he was back where he belonged - with his family and his best friend.

Back in the present, Hercules sighed again. "Iolaus," he said, patiently, "I've told you, there's nothing for you to be sorry for."

"That's so easy for you to say." Iolaus's voice was bleak, his face averted from the demigod's piercing gaze. "You weren't the one who turned into a money collector, who slapped some guy round the face during a card game - during which I cheated, by the way! - and you didn't let someone fall to their death."

Hercules was fast reaching the end of his patience. There had to be some way of convincing his friend that none of this was his fault, that his behaviour during the last few days had been an aberration, harking back to that other time when he had lost his memory, and that neither of them could save everyone. He had suffered his fair share of losses as well. They were painful memories, most of which he had locked away in the place where he kept the deaths of his family; for had he not ultimately failed to save them too? Perhaps it was time to open up that secret place, reach in and take out some of those terrible moments in time and share them with Iolaus. He glanced down, trying to catch the hunter's eye, but failed, although he could see the strain on the mobile features, and swallowed, hard. He would do absolutely anything to see that expression lift, to be replaced by the sunny smile, the blue eyes sparkling with life again.

Taking a deep breath, he came to a decision, and, suddenly grabbing the smaller man by the arm, dragged him across to the nearest largest tree in the forest through which they were travelling and sat him down beneath it.

"Wha ...?"

"I want you to listen to me," said the demigod, in a tone which brooked no argument. Seeing he was about to get one anyway, he clapped a hand over Iolaus's mouth, earning himself a glare from the hunter. "I'm sorry, Iolaus," he moderated, removing the offending object before the hunter could retaliate in some way - like bite it! "I just wanted to tell you something. I wanted to let you know that I know exactly how you feel ..."

"How can you?" Iolaus protested, the higher tone of his voice further evidence of how upset he was over everything which had happened of late. "You weren't the one who dropped that woman. That was me, Hercules. And I almost killed you ..."

"But you didn't ..." Hercules reminded him. "I knew you wouldn't!"

"How could you know when I didn't even know what I was doing?" demanded the blond warrior. He was so agitated that he didn't realise he had risen from the ground and was pacing to and fro until Hercules grabbed his arm again and forced him down beside him, draping a strong arm across his shoulders both in restraint and comfort.

"Because I know you," came the steady response.

Iolaus stared at his friend. There was such confidence in those azure eyes, which were gazing at him as though they could see through to his very soul - which, he reflected, wryly, wasn't so far from the truth. There was so much love in the voice which was doing its best to calm him down. For a moment he almost capitulated. It would be so easy just to admit defeat and allow the mistakes from the past week to slip into the past, where they could be forgotten ... But he couldn't. The memories were still too fresh. Still too hurtful. Besides, he owed that poor woman something - perhaps his very existence.

Watching the myriad of emotions play across his friend's expressive features, Hercules was hopeful, for a moment, that he would not have to say anything more. Then all his optimism was dashed when the shuttered look fell over that beloved face and Iolaus shook his head.

"It won't work, Hercules," he said, dismally. "I did all those things and there's nothing I can do to undo them. No reparations I can make to everyone I've wronged."

"No, you're mistaken, my friend." Hercules could have wept. This was destroying his friend. He had to do something! "You've already made reparation - if that's what you truly believe you should do - to Nemia in saving Xeno from Thanatos and his gang and thereby making him see the error of his ways. Your actions ensured that the rest of the gang went to prison as well, and the town itself no longer has to answer to a protection racket. They can prosper and thrive and maybe become better people through it all."

Iolaus shrugged. When Hercules put it that way ... "But what about that poor guy I cheated at cards?" he said, wincing at the image of the scene at the gambling table. "I've never behaved like that before, Herc. I ... I'm so ashamed."

Hercules tightened his arm around those broad shoulders in sympathy. "You hit him, Iolaus. You didn't kill him! He'll recover. Yes, it was wrong, but everyone's entitled to an off day and you really weren't yourself when you did that - and you have never before cheated at cards! I think that proves that it was something out of your control. We can lay the blame for that one firmly at the feet of Fortune."

"But ..."

"Hey, even Fortune admitted that it was all her fault, right from the very beginning. If we're assigning responsibility, then the least we can do is give that one to her!"

A little warmth crept back into the chilled heart. Iolaus considered this for a moment then, "Okay. That was all Fortune's fault. But, Herc, what about that woman on the bridge ...?"

The demigod pulled his friend close. "Iolaus, Fortune admitted that was her doing, but I know that you're going to resist any attempt I make to blame her for that, even though she did initiate all this. You know, we can't save everyone. And before you say 'you do', let me remind you of Dieanera and the kids, and Serena ..."

Iolaus looked up, horror-stricken. "Herc! None of those deaths were your fault! You can't seriously think ..."

Hercules nodded. "I was so close to saving the children, Iolaus, but instead, I watched them burn in a firebolt. If only I'd been a little faster, a little more together - I could have saved them. But I didn't, and that haunts me still."

"You couldn't ..."

"I could! And Serena - Serena was killed because I made some fatal errors. If I'd left her alone, if I hadn't been so intent on marrying her so quickly ... To this day I regret every moment that I took from her, especially when I knew, deep down, that it was someone else I loved. Someone else I wanted - but I was afraid. Afraid that I would ruin something which was very special to me, and afraid that if I admitted to myself just how I felt, then Hera and Ares would also know and I didn't want to take the risk of losing ... you. Iolaus, Dieanara and the kids died because of me. I could have saved them. Serena died because of me. Other people have died because I have been unable to save them - don't let this guilt eat you alive, my friend, because I can't lose you. I am not infallible, Iolaus. You, better than anyone, know how deeply human I am, and the mistakes I've made along the way. Don't you start believing in the legend. I need you to believe in me, just like I believe in you. And I do, Iolaus. I believe in you. I believe in us ..."

To emphasise his point, he leaned forward to brush his mouth against Iolaus', removing his arm from suddenly trembling shoulders to take that sweet face between his hands, whilst his tongue slipped past the hunter's sensuous lips, to enter that welcoming, moist warmth. Iolaus sighed, the sound vibrating deliciously against the demigod's searching member, and he wrapped his arms around Hercules' neck, surrendering to his lover's touch.

"I'm sorry, Herc," murmured the small warrior, as Hercules broke away for a moment, savouring the feel of the soft cheeks beneath one hand whilst trailing the fingers of his other through the wild tumble of golden hair. "I didn't mean to remind you ..."

"You didn't," came the soft response, against his lips, the demigod's tongue demanding and gaining entry to its other home once again. "I ... just wanted to try to point ... out to you ... that you're not ... alone..." His words tailed away as tongues met and intertwined, lapping at each other mercilessly, lips pressed tightly to each other. As the kiss intensified, their breathing quickened in tandem and each became only too well aware of the passion they were stimulating in each other.

"It's been ... too long," panted Iolaus, breathlessly, as they reluctantly broke apart again, to gaze at one another, each reading in the other's expression the fire of need and longing which the first simple kiss had ignited.

"Yes," agreed Hercules, easily. "It has. I missed you, you know. Please don't leave me again, Iolaus. I don't feel complete without you."

The warrior grimaced. "Sorry?" he offered, and was rewarded with a light, admonishing tap on the nose for his trouble.

"Don't you ever say 'sorry' to me again," Hercules warned him. "I've had enough 'sorry's' out of you this past day to last me a lifetime!"

Iolaus giggled. The sound was like music to Hercules' ears, and somewhere within him, his soul rejoiced. "You're not gonna tell me that 'love means never having to say you're sorry', are you?" his golden lover teased him.

The son of Zeus grimaced. "Ugh! That's awful! Where did you hear that?"

"I can't remember. I think I read it somewhere - or maybe it was in one of those travelling bard shows ..."

"Well, I definitely wouldn't go that far," said the demigod, his voice husky as he leaned in to partake of the hunter's lips once more. "But, please, no more 'sorry's ... besides, I can think of much more interesting words I want to hear you say ..."

Iolaus leaned back, away from that impatient mouth, cocking his head on one side, his sapphire eyes dancing with barely concealed mischief. "Oh? And what would they ... be ... oh gods! Herc!"

Hercules grinned as one questing hand reached down to trail lightly over the bulge in Iolaus's trousers, and his hunter's voice managed to climb several octaves above normal as it finally located its quarry. "Well, that's one of 'em," he whispered. "Wanna find out some more?"

There was a moment's pause, then, "Oh ... okay ... if you must ... ah! Hercules!" This as the demigod deftly unfastened the hunter's codpiece and reached inside to run his fingers lightly over the soft curls which nestled there and grasp the firm, leaking shaft therein.

Smiling widely, Hercules slowly and gently pushed the smaller man down into the bed of leaves beneath the wide tree, and met his lips again in a bruising kiss which seemed to be trying to drain Iolaus of all his energy. His hands were busy undoing belts and throwing them carelessly to the side, then working on unfastening and removing the obstacle of the leather pants, Iolaus lifting his hips in an effort to assist.

Eventually, Hercules broke the kiss again and sat back on his heels to survey the body lying beneath him. Iolaus was breathing heavily, his tawny, satin chest heaving in an effort to draw sufficient breath into his lungs and his eyes were wide and dilated, His hands were fastened around the demigod's strong forearms, which were planted either side of the slim hips and his mass of unruly blond curls, spread out over the nest of ochre and sepia coloured leaves, created a halo for his flushed face.

"Isn't it time ... you got rid of those?" he demanded, when he had found sufficient breath to speak, indicating his friend's tunic and pants.

Hercules shrugged and folded his arms across his bronzed chest. "Maybe," he temporised. "Maybe I need some help."

A feral grin spread itself over that mobile face. Then slowly, oh so slowly, Iolaus reached up and began to unfasten the complicated belts which were an unfortunate (and temporary) encumbrance to his lover's lower body.

Hercules was fighting the urge to help Iolaus by the time the other man had completed his self-appointed task, then obligingly stood up to divest himself of the leather restriction. He removed his tunic himself then lowered himself back onto his golden offering and, levering himself up on one arm, wound the other around the golden head, resting his hand in the tumbled curls, and leaned in for another earth-shattering kiss.

Iolaus was shivering with need, his hands tracing long, delicate paths up and down the broad, muscular body which lay protectively, possessively over his own. He reached down and, in quick retaliation for Hercules' earlier action, flicked his fingers over the weeping erection, stifling a giggle as a gasp erupted into his mouth from the demigod.

"Are you okay, now?" queried Hercules, managing to catch his breath as they broke apart again, their eyes re-acquainting, gentian blue on gentian blue.

Iolaus nodded. "Yeah," he replied, his voice quiet, but sincere. "I'm okay. Herc ... I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You're never going to have to find out," promised the son of Zeus as he leaned down again and buried his face in the corded neck, his teeth worrying at the golden ring on one ear then suckling the lobe and running up and down the rim of that perfect, shell-like shape until he felt the smaller man start to buck beneath him. He continued his journey down the well-mapped terrain, pausing at all the familiar landmarks; teasing and sucking at each nipple until they both stood firm and erect, glistening in the sunlight drifting down through the well-hung branches; kissing the firm abdomen and driving his tongue deep into the belly button until Iolaus squirmed so hard that he abandoned it for the golden forest beneath. There he found the straining erection, and lapped the tip of it hungrily, running his tongue up and down each side, the delicious sounds erupting from his lover eliciting a wide smile and a throaty chuckle.

The hand which had been wrapped in the soft hair above the beautiful face made its way down the lithe body now, as he started to slide his other hand up and down the engorged shaft. Settling on his knees between the firm, slender thighs, he ran the tip of his fingers through the pre-cum which was running slowly down the sides of that incredible cock and, hoisting up Iolaus's narrow hips, thrust first one, then two fingers into the tight, hot hole behind the scrotum, his digits seeking a particular place, searching, searching until a scream erupted from his lover's throat.

Iolaus's heart was thumping so hard in his chest that he was convinced that the entire forest could hear it. Sensation was tearing through him so fast and so hard that he was beginning to hear a roaring sound in his ears. He knew Hercules was pumping him, knew that the fingers of his friend and lover's other hand were doing incredible things within him, but there was just so much to concentrate on that it all merged into one incredible, delirious feeling of ecstasy, and he was not even aware of the scream he uttered when those fingers brushed by his prostate, nor when they were replaced by something much larger and more demanding. All he was able to concentrate on was the molten heat, the utter joy, the feeling that he was suspended in an air electrified by lust and desire. He was part of Hercules and Hercules was part of him. As the demigod worked away at his cock and thrust into Iolaus with his own, the hunter felt the world slip away completely and he came with a howl which rent the air, an echo of that sound emerging from the demigod's mouth shortly thereafter as he, too, came, spurting ejaculate into his lover and branding him, marking Iolaus as his.

Warrior and demigod returned reluctantly to earth with a collective sigh. Hercules rolled off to Iolaus's right side, pulling the smaller man along with him, enfolding him in his strong arms and planting a kiss on the burnished head which was buried into his shoulder.

Iolaus smiled into the firm skin beneath his face, his left hand gently stroking the demigod's broad back. "Did I tell you I love you?" he whispered, wincing as the words left a throat which was raw from their recent endeavours.

Hercules pulled away slightly from the man in his arms and gazed down into the face of the mortal he would die for. "I love you, too, Iolaus," he replied, bringing one hand round to tenderly stroke the sweat-streaked, flushed face. "You know - we always were better together than alone ..."

"Oh, I don't know ..." mused the smaller man with a wide grin, recalling some of those adventures alone - with Niobe, and Salmoneus, and Niobe ... Before regret could set in, he continued, "Then again, maybe you're right."

"I know I am," said the demigod.

"Hmmm.." Iolaus snuggled back into Hercules' loving embrace. "I hate it when you agree with me ..."

Curling around his lover protectively, Hercules felt an enormous wave of contentment wash over and through him. This was home. Wherever this man was. He would never allow anything to come between them again. Never. Next time, they would talk about things properly, the way they should have done before he had allowed any of this to befall Iolaus. He should never have allowed his golden warrior to leave him, and certainly, when they were finally reunited, should never have permitted his utter relief at that bittersweet reconciliation to have appeared on his face when he was trying to reassure his friend that he had done nothing to be ashamed of.

"I'm never going to let you go through anything like that alone again," he vowed silently to his soulmate. Aloud, he whispered nonsensical endearments into the blond's ear, and tightened his hold reflexively when a sleepy voice returned the compliment.

As the hunter relaxed into satiated slumber, Hercules breathed a huge sigh of relief. The nightmare was over - he had Iolaus back safe and sound, in his arms and with his memory intact. They were together again. At last.

FINIS

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