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RESISTANCE

part 3

By Mel


Iolaus couldn't remember when he had ever been so afraid. His first glimpse of the familiar ship, rocking on the gentle swell in the bay had almost melted his resolve completely. The urge to throw himself from the horse and run as fast as his legs would carry him was close to overwhelming. A ghastly queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach increased until he was fighting to keep down his breakfast.

How could this be happening? After all he had suffered on that wretched ship, he was allowing these men to take him back. He would never have contemplated going near the ship or its evil captain again if there had been any other way to spare the helpless village.

Iolaus had refused to be broken, despite repeated brutal assaults and The Captain must have been furious when his sex slave had escaped, but the hunter's victory had been short lived. The Captain knew the blond man's weaknesses were his compassionate nature and his capacity for self-sacrifice. By threatening the lives of his friends and an entire village of innocent people, he had assuredly ensnared his prey. Iolaus could have kicked himself for making the mistake of underestimating the man's cunning. He had misjudged his capacity for evil once before and a young man had paid the price with his life. The Captain's motive for forcing his return was revenge and that would undoubtedly mean pain and suffering for Iolaus. He would rather die than willingly submit to any more vile abuse but he would not be broken. He had escaped once he could do it again, or die trying.

The journey to his master's feet ended far too soon for Iolaus. If he hadn't been forced to his knees they might well have given out on him anyway. Mustering all the pride and strength he possessed, he raised his blue eyes to meet his captor's dark gaze and grinned. "So, you couldn't live without me," he said ruefully.

The defiant gesture was met with a snarl and a vicious kick to his bandaged ribs. Iolaus howled and writhed on the deck in agony while the captain looked on gleefully. "I will break your spirit, little man, before I kill you," he promised. "Get him out of my sight."

He was grabbed by his bound arms and bumped roughly down wooden steps to a small cell deep in the bowels of the ship. This room was significantly smaller than the one he had been held in previously and the only illumination filtered dimly under the door from the corridor outside. There was a dull thud as he hit the wet floor and it was several minutes before his eyes adjusted to the gloom. The room was bare except for two wooden buckets. One, with a small cup attached was presumably filled with water for drinking and there was no need to guess what the purpose of the other one was. Gripping his injured ribs with one hand the hunter hauled himself painfully over to the water filled vessel and drank a little of the brackish liquid. Then he flopped down on the damp wooden floor and hoped sleep would claim him quickly.

An unpleasant burning pain flickered into life in his stomach. The flame burned brighter, spreading through his insides with disconcerting rapidity. His tortured insides lurched violently and he rolled onto his knees as his heaving stomach forcefully expelled his breakfast. It must have been the water. He had been poisoned and his body was determined to be rid the toxic intrusion. The fire within became a raging inferno, engulfing him in searing torment and he writhed on the damp floor.

For what seemed like an eternity his body was consumed by fits of dry retching and fiery agony until his consciousness finally fled.

*************************

Hercules paced up and down the small kitchen. Three paces, turn, three paces turn, until Dan's nerves could take no more. "Son, will you please sit down, or half god or not, I'll wrestle you into a chair before you wear a hole in the floor," he snapped in exasperation.

The demigod sank into a chair and anxiously ran his hand through his hair. "Jason should have been here by now. As soon as he arrives, we can go after Iolaus." He stood and crossed to the window. "Dan you have no idea how great a sacrifice Iolaus has made."

Dan gingerly adjusted the bandage around his aching head as he spoke, "I saw the marks on his body Hercules and I know what they mean. He is a brave man."

Hercules leaned against the wall and regarded the old man with glistening eyes. "He has more courage than anyone I know, Dan and that's what worries me the most. He won't break easily. The man who inflicted those injuries wanted him back so badly, he gave up the chance to raid this village and collect valuable human merchandise. He wants to break Iolaus and Iolaus would rather die."

Dan's weathered face radiated sincere regret, "Maybe it won't come to that, son," he suggested. "He is pretty tenacious and he escaped once. Don't give up on him yet."

Before Hercules could answer, the sound of riders approaching filled the air and he bolted from the small farmhouse at a run to greet the former King of Corinth and his men.

*************************

Iolaus was rudely awakened by salt water splashing into his face, filling his mouth and rushing up his nose leaving him choking and gasping for breath. Shooting pain from his damaged ribs lanced through his side with each spasm until his lungs recovered and he could breathe relatively easily once more. The ship had encountered heavy seas and was pitching alarmingly through mountainous waves. The deck of the small cell was several inches deep in filthy water and Iolaus realised he was lucky not to have drowned while unconscious. When the smouldering embers in his stomach flared hotly into renewed life he reconsidered his position. Perhaps drowning would have been preferable to this endless agony.
He wedged himself into the corner of the room and pulled his knees tightly against his chest. The ship rose on a huge wave, hanging motionless for a moment then plunged forwards, its timbers shuddering and groaning under the relentless pounding.

Resting his head on his knees, he clenched his fists and drew on his rapidly ebbing strength to remain conscious. Passing out could mean drowning, but that would release him from this interminable torment. However it would also mean he would never see Hercules again and he loved Hercules and Hercules loved him. His mind whirled with images of his lover and friend and darker memories of the captain, abuse and pain. He reached deep within himself for the strength to continue to battle the ceaseless torture, to survive, for Hercules who loved him and needed him.
The ship plunged on through the towering waves and Iolaus clung grimly to consciousness.

Minutes stretched into hours and the hours rolled by endlessly. Dehydration and exhaustion conspired to envelop their victim in never ending darkness but the will to live still flickered in the tortured body.

Unfamiliar sounds, footsteps and the door opened. Bright light flooded into the cell, searing his eyes and hands roughly grabbed his arms. There was a cool sea breeze and he could see clouds scudding across the sky overhead from his prone position on the deck.

Several freezing buckets of water later and he lay shivering without the strength to raise a protest as his clothes were removed.

Gentler hands dabbed at the wetness on his skin and his instincts prompted him to observe who was showing him this small kindness. An elderly man was kneeling beside him, working over his body with a rough cloth. When he noticed the blond man's curious eyes on him the corners of the old man's mouth turned up slightly in a hint of a smile.

Once he was suitably dried the rough handling resumed and he was delivered to his master's cabin. Once there, his hands were shackled, the chain threaded through an iron ring at the head of the silk draped bed and he was left alone to contemplate his fate. His head pounded, his tongue was swollen and every bone in his body ached with fatigue. The effects of the poison had faded to a faint but unpleasant soreness and he was certain there had never been a time in his life when he had been more miserable.

The door creaked as it opened and Iolaus tensed in expectation of his master's arrival. Relief replaced fear as the old man appeared beside the bed and sat down with a grateful sigh. "The old legs aren't what they used to be," he complained. "My name is Lucius, I'm The Captain's personal servant. I'll be bringing you food and water while you are here. There is a bucket under the bed for you to use." His eyes filled with sympathy. "I know you are thirsty, Iolaus, but I have been instructed not to give you any water. The captain would flay the skin off my back if I disobeyed, I'm sorry."

Iolaus nodded weakly. "'S-okay," he croaked.

The door flew open and Lucius leapt off the bed, scurrying quickly out of the cabin as its owner strode in. Iolaus froze and his heart pounded painfully in his chest as the footsteps drew nearer. The large mattress rocked slightly as the edge was compressed by The Captain's weight. Discarded boots hit the floor with two dull thuds and the clinking of metal, as a belt was unfastened was followed by the rustling of clothing. The bed rocked again and the hunter flinched as a rough hand connected with his crawling skin.

"So, you still have a little fight left in you," a familiar voice hissed close to his ear. "If you submit to me now I may be considerate or we can do this the hard way."
Iolaus remained silent and The Captain chuckled gleefully. "So be it - slave."
Suddenly the disgusting hands were all over him and Iolaus writhed and kicked with the last of his waning strength. His struggles were feeble at best and he was over powered easily by his muscular master. When his knees were forced against his chest by a great weight his vision began to fade and the pain of brutal entry into his body tipped him over the edge into blackness.

Pain arrived with wakefulness but it was accompanied by the pleasant coolness of a damp cloth soothing his face and neck. A gentle voice was saying something, "Iolaus, can you hear me?" it said.

The blond hunter opened his eyes. "Lucius?" he murmured faintly, as the face before him came slowly into focus.

"Yes, Iolaus, I'm going to lift your shoulders so you can drink a little water," the voice replied. An arm slid beneath him, raising him slightly and the rim of a metal cup nudged gently against his cracked lips. Blessed cool water flowed into his parched mouth and he winced at the unexpected pain of swallowing. The soreness lessened with each gulp of the refreshing liquid and all too soon the cup was removed. "Not too much," the voice said. "You can have a little more presently, now let's get you sitting up."

Soft pillows were piled behind his back and head until he was almost upright. "Thanks, Lucius," he almost sounded like himself again when he spoke this time.

"How do you feel?" Lucius asked.

"Horrible," replied the hunter with feeling. "And so weak. I've lost track of time Lucius, how long have I been on board?"

"Almost three days. We should arrive at the slave auctions in the morning."

Iolaus was stunned. "Three days. I hadn't realised. Is there any more water please?"

The older man refilled the cup and Iolaus reached out to take it but the chains bought his arm up short with a jerk. He gasped when the metal bit into the filthy bandages on his wrists and Lucius winced in sympathy. "I have some salve for your wrists and fresh bandages too," he said as he moved the cup closer until Iolaus could take it easily. "Drink slowly while I go and fetch them." The old man shuffled off and the hunter took two sips of the cool water before giving in to his thirst and quickly draining the cup. Sinking back into the pillows, he struggled to keep his heavy eyelids from closing but his body's demand for rest was overwhelming and by the time Lucius returned he was fast asleep.

************************

"Tell me where the slave auctions are held and I might let you live," Hercules snapped into the face of his prisoner.

"I don't know where they are, I've never been there. We were paid to deliver the slaves to the ship and didn't much care what happened to them after that."
The demigod growled in frustration. "Take him away," he signalled to the waiting lieutenant. "And prepare the prisoners for the march to Corinth. We're leaving as soon as possible."

Frustration, pain and anger played across the big man's face as the leader of the warriors was led away. They had caught up with the band of men as they returned from making their last delivery to the slave ship. The ensuing battle had been hard fought, but eventually Iphicles' army had triumphed. Brave men had died and more than twenty prisoners had been taken, but the victory gave Hercules little satisfaction. His only hope of finding Iolaus quickly had been to gain knowledge of the whereabouts of the slave auctions from these men and take his brother's fastest ship in pursuit. It could take weeks to scour the islands around Greece to find the slave auctions and if the slaver kept Iolaus on the ship he could conceivably evade capture indefinitely. It was unlikely Iolaus would survive that long and the demigod's heart twisted painfully in his chest at the thought of how his friend might be suffering.

************************

The nightmare continued for Iolaus when The Captain returned to his cabin. Lucius served the man his dinner and was allowed to give the slave a little food, which the hunter devoured with gratitude. As soon as dinner had been cleared away The Captain came to his bed and the remainder of the night was filled with roughly groping hands and agonising abuse. When his master vacated the bed at dawn the slave was unconscious and mercifully remained so through most of the day.
When he finally awoke, it was late afternoon and Lucius was by his side. Pain erupted in his violated body when he moved and a distressed sob escaped before he could contain it. A gentle hand soothed his brow. "Easy there, take it slowly. You've a most impressive collection of bruises. Are you in a lot of pain? I can brew you some tea that might help."

"Yes, please, thank you," Iolaus managed faintly.

The old man patted his arm fondly and shuffled off towards the door. Closing his eyes, the hunter concentrated on filling his mind with thoughts of Hercules in an attempt to block out his pain. He could visualise his friend's face and hear his voice, but the hands he imagined touching him were rough and callused, not the caring hands of his lover. Tears welled in his eyes and for a brief moment the pain in his heart transcended all his other hurts. He would never see Hercules again and constant abuse would steadily erase his fondest memories, replacing them with something vile and terrible. No, he wouldn't allow that. His memories were all he had left and he resolved to spend every possible moment, thinking of his friend, remembering their love and passion and he would carry those memories to his grave.

"Iolaus?"

A hand tenderly wiped the moisture from his cheeks and he looked up through tear filled eyes to find Lucius regarding him with concern. "Sorry," he murmured. "I... I was thinking of Hercules." His voice shook with emotion and to his embarrassment the tears just wouldn't stop coming. Lucius placed the cup of steaming tea on the floor and pulled the sobbing hunter against him, holding his shaking body while grief and pain poured out. Eventually the blond man gathered his wayward emotions under control and pulled away from the older man. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, his eyes downcast.

"Sorry?" Lucius said in amazement. "Sorry for what? For having feelings, for caring and for loving? Don't be sorry, Iolaus, rejoice. Those feelings are what separates you from evil monsters who rape and torture." He drew the stunned hunter back into a warm hug. "I know why you were recaptured, Iolaus," he continued as he released the younger man and pushed him back gently into the soft pillows. "I heard The Captain issue his orders. He had those men threaten innocent lives and you gave yourself up to spare them. You are the bravest man I've ever met, Iolaus and you have no reason to be ashamed."

"T-thank you, Lucius," Iolaus stammered awkwardly.

Lucius smiled slightly and retrieved the mug of tea. "Now drink this before it gets cold," he ordered.

*************************

The ship had been in port for two days and the slaves had been unloaded for the auctions. The Captain was ashore, overseeing the sale of his merchandise and drinking with his fellow slavers for most of the time. He would return drunk, late at night, to his bed and cruelly use his slave before falling into intoxicated slumber.
As he had vowed, Iolaus kept thoughts of Hercules close in his mind but whenever he closed his eyes his mind conveyed the sickening touch of rough hands on his skin.

Lucius kept him company whenever his duties would allow and the hunter was more grateful than he could say for the man's kindness. He took great risks to smuggle extra food to the helpless slave and Iolaus begged him to be careful lest he be caught and punished.

On the third evening in port, Lucius and Iolaus sat together and the older man talked of his adventures as a young man in an effort to distract Iolaus who jumped nervously at every sound in anticipation of their drunken master's return. Iolaus was uncertain at which point he fell asleep but when he next opened his eyes, daylight streamed in through the open window. He sagged in relief and fervently hoped that his master's failure to return was due to his having fallen drunk into the harbour and drowned, but no such luck.

Heavy boots clattered loudly down the wooden steps and the cabin door all but flew off its hinges as The Captain burst in. He was grumbling angrily to himself. "Bloody thieves! They must have been cheating. I've never lost that badly before. Thieves!" He paused when he noticed the naked slave regarding him apprehensively from the bed. "What are you staring at?" he growled. "I suppose you think it's funny I lost all but my shirt. Well, I'll wipe the smile off your face."

Iolaus wasn't smiling. There was nothing remotely amusing about the situation. When The Captain removed his belt and strode purposefully towards the bed the hunter hastily backed away in trepidation. His master swung the belt across the bed, catching his naked victim cruelly across his thighs and the slave yelped in pain. Climbing onto the bed, The Captain drew his arm back for another blow and the slave reacted in blind panic and anger, his foot lashing out and catching his attacker in the groin with a satisfying crunch. A howl of agony echoed around the cabin and the injured man, his face a mask of torment, rolled off the bed onto the floor and writhed on the deck. Iolaus swallowed anxiously. "Now I've done it," he muttered to himself.

A sailor bowled into the cabin. "Sir?" he asked nervously.

The Captain sat up. "Get him out of here, tie him to the mast and fetch the whip. There's going to be a flogging," he gasped.

*********************

Iphicles lounged in a chair, watching with increasing irritation as his brother paced up and down.

"There must be something we can do," Hercules was saying. "Let me have a ship and a crew and I'll go and look for him. Please, Iphicles, I have to do something, I'm going out of my mind here."

"No kidding," said The King as he rolled out of the chair and stood in front of his brother, holding up his hand to halt his incessant pacing. "I have spies out there, Hercules, the best in the business and as soon as there is anything definite to act on I will send ships, but until then you will have to be patient." He held up his hand as Hercules began to protest. "I know it isn't easy, brother, you love Iolaus and it's hard to sit around and wait when he is in danger but there are hundreds of islands out there, where will you start?" Iphicles placed a comforting arm around his brother's shoulders. "If you're out chasing around the sea it could take days for any solid information to reach you. It's better that you stay here until something definite comes back from my men don't you think?"

Hercules nodded resignedly. "You're right, Iphicles, I'm sorry."

The king sighed in relief. "Well, we have men to try and hangings to arrange. That should keep us busy while we wait."

A wicked smile crept across The Captain's unshaven face as he ran his hand over the perfect skin of the slave's back and the flesh trembled beneath his touch. "It's almost a shame to damage such a perfect specimen," he hissed and then gave the slave's buttocks a hard slap before striding to his ringside seat to watch the show. As he sat carefully, Iolaus noted that his face was still pale and took some small comfort from the knowledge that he had really hurt the evil bastard. The Captain raised his voice, "Ten strokes, as hard as you like. Begin."

Iolaus had thought he was prepared for the pain but when the flying leather cracked across his back, ripping through skin and into flesh, a spasm of shock flashed through his entire body. The second lash arrived before he had time to recover from the first and he bit his lip to keep from crying out. As the stinging leather continued to lay open his flesh, sweat trickled over his trembling body, mingling with the rivulets of blood on his back and stinging the open wounds. He gritted his teeth firmly and refused to allow himself the small relief that screaming out his torment would bring.

When the tenth stroke had been delivered, The Captain approached his shaking victim and grabbed a handful of his golden hair. "Beg me to stop this, get on your knees and ask me to fuck you, right now and I will spare you any more pain," he hissed.

Iolaus blinked as stinging perspiration dribbled into his eyes and summoning courage from the depths of his tortured soul he answered. "Never."

Another half a dozen strokes fell and, unable to bear the fierce conflagration, which assaulted every nerve ending across his ravaged back, Iolaus finally uttered a weak sob of agony. A few more lashes and he was screaming. Consciousness was rapidly leaving his tortured body when the cruel punishment suddenly ceased.
The world spun sickeningly as fiery tongues of agony consumed him and he was only dimly aware of an unfamiliar voice calling across the deck. "I'm sorry to interrupt your entertainment, captain, but you have something I want and I have an offer you can't refuse," it said.

Moments later the semi-conscious slave was released from his bonds, dragged agonisingly across the deck, bumped cruelly down the wooden steps and tossed into the stinking cell below decks. When he landed on his torn back in the filthy water an inferno of agony ripped through his body and mercifully he passed out.

When his consciousness returned he found he was lying on his stomach on a soft mattress and his back burned horribly as air lightly brushed over the torn flesh. A hand touched his arm and he instinctively rolled away from the touch, crying out as fiery tongues of flame ignited across his back, wrapping him in agony. "Lie still, I'm not going to hurt you," that voice again. "Well actually, I am going to hurt you, as I have to finish cleaning your back, but I am trying to help you." The voice was gentle and held no threat.

The hunter's spinning vision settled sufficiently for him to focus on the owner of the voice and he found himself looking into a friendly, clean-shaven face inset with sparkling green eyes. "Where? W-Who?" Iolaus inquired weakly.

My name is Darrion and this is my ship and my bed," the stranger informed him.

"Why are you helping me?"

"Well in view of the outrageous price I paid for you, I can't have you dying on me now can I?" Said Darrion with a grin.

"You own me?" Iolaus asked with mixed feelings. At least this man hadn't threatened him yet and he couldn't be as bad as The Captain could he?

"I paid top dinar for you, but strictly speaking I suppose you belong to the man who supplied the money," the stranger answered.

Iolaus rested his head wearily on his arm and his voice broke slightly as he asked, "Would you please stop talking in riddles and tell me who owns me, why and what happens now."

Realising that the blond man had been to Tarturus and back and that he was in agony, Darrion replied sympathetically. "I'm sorry, Iolaus, I was so busy congratulating myself on executing my cunning plan, I was forgetting what you've been through."

"Plan?" the hunter inquired curiously, a little comforted by the man's use of his name rather than referring to him as 'slave'.

"Yes. My men got The Captain drunk and won every last dinar from him last night so when I strode in and offered to pay a generous sum for his uncooperative slave he jumped at the chance to get the money back. I still had to part with a considerable sum above what we won from him though. Never mind, apparently somebody thinks you are worth it."

Iolaus swallowed nervously and looked questioningly at Darrion. "Who would that be?" he asked shakily.

"The king, on behalf of his brother I believe."

Iolaus gaped in shock and Darrion placed a comforting hand on his arm. "You're a free man, Iolaus and I'm going to take you home."

********************

Iphicles found his brother sitting on a bench in the palace gardens staring into the murky depths of a small pond. He clapped Hercules on the shoulder. "There's a ship just docked and the captain has something for you," he said with a smile.

Hercules shot to his feet and bolted across the lawn. "Thanks," he yelled over his shoulder.

Iphicles grinned after him for a moment before returning to the palace and speaking to one of his aides. "Prepare a room and find the palace healer," he instructed.

*********************

Hercules skidded to a halt at the bottom of the wooden plank spanning the distance between the dock and the ship. He had been so anxious to have news, any news of Iolaus he hadn't stopped to consider what the captain might have to say. What if his friend had been sold into slavery and transported to who knew where? Or, what if he was dead? With trembling knees, he traversed the plank to the deck of the ship.

All was silent on board the vessel and Hercules glanced around nervously. Then a voice spoke softly from the shadows. "Herc."

Hercules could have sworn his heart had stopped beating. He stepped closer to the voice, hardly daring to believe, to hope and then a familiar figure moved out onto the deck. His heart resumed its beating in a rush and hot tears spilled unchecked from his eyes. It was Iolaus, but not the golden, vital man he remembered. The man who stood shakily before him now was thinner and paler and about to collapse. "Iolaus," the demigod sobbed and rushed to envelop his love in his arms, but the hunter bought him up short, raising his hands protectively.

"Gently, Herc," he pleaded with a slight shadow of a smile on his lips. "I'm a little battered."

Hercules gripped his friend's arms gently and looked down into his pale face with concern. Blue, pain filled eyes gazed back in wonder and overflowed with tears.
Turning his head, the hunter pressed his cheek against the demigod's chest, breathing deeply, filling his senses with his lover's familiar scent. Tenderly running his fingers through golden hair, the demigod frowned worriedly on observing the unnatural heat radiating from his friend's body.

The ship's captain emerged from the doorway. "He insisted on coming out to meet you. You should get him to the palace healer, Hercules," he said with genuine concern.

The demigod carefully lifted Iolaus into his arms, wincing when the hunter sobbed in pain. "I'm sorry, my friend," he said softly.

Iolaus opened his eyes and managed a faint smile. "Home," he murmured and slipped into oblivion.

Darrion fell into step beside the demigod as he carried his unconscious burden to the palace. "I'm afraid he's in pretty bad shape," he said apologetically. "I tried to treat his wounds myself but they were already infected. Only a healer can help him now."

Hercules glanced at the man at his side and observed the obvious concern he held for his friend. "Thank you for taking care of him and for bringing him back to me...I'm sorry, I don't even know your name."

"It's Darrion and it was my pleasure. He's very weak, Hercules. From what little he has told me I gathered that he was poisoned and kept half starved before the vicious bastard flayed the skin off his back," he explained. "It's lucky I got to him when I did, he wouldn't have survived much longer."

Hercules thanked Darrion again and the captain left to report to Iphicles. The demigod carried Iolaus to the prepared room and laid him gently on the bed. The hunter began to thrash wildly when his friend attempted to remove his clothing. "Iolaus! It's okay. It's me, Hercules, don't fight me," he soothed.

The blond man stilled and looked up trustingly into his partner's worried face. "I'm sorry, Herc," he whispered.

The shirt had stuck to the oozing wounds on the hunter's ravaged back and Hercules shuddered in sympathy as he peeled the cloth away. Iolaus clenched his fists, trying desperately not to make a sound but at one point he could no longer contain a sob of distress. "Hang in there, I'm nearly done," the demigod encouraged gently. Finally the soiled material came free of the torn flesh and Hercules gazed in horror as the full extent of the injuries, was revealed. Hardly an inch of skin remained undamaged and several of the deeper wounds were badly inflamed and weeping. "Gods, Iolaus," Hercules gasped. The pain in the hunter's eyes reflected in his own blue orbs as he took his hand and squeezed it gently. "This must be pretty nearly unbearable." Iolaus gripped the demigod's hand fiercely, but his gaze remained steady and he said nothing. "I'll take that as a 'yes'," Hercules said softly and lovingly smoothed the blond hair from his friend's damp forehead.

The healer bustled in noisily, dumped a huge bundle of assorted equipment on the table and smiling in greeting he approached the bed. "My name is Tressius and...great gods of Olympus!" he halted in mid stride as he noticed his patient's horrendous wounds. He recovered his composure quickly. "Let's take a closer look at you," he said pleasantly and proceeded to thoroughly examine his patient, noting his high fever and the weeping wounds as his first priority. Returning to the table, he mixed some powder in a little water, adding a few drops of viscous liquid from a stoppered bottle before stepping back to the bed. He handed the cup to Hercules. "Help him to drink this. It will lower his fever and help with the pain," he instructed.
While Hercules carefully administered the potion to Iolaus, the healer busied himself at the fire place, loading more wood onto the fire and surreptitiously sliding a small knife into the flames. Then he returned to the bed with water and cloths to clean the wounds.

Iolaus lay still while the healer cleaned and bandaged his wrists and arm but he couldn't help hissing in pain when the man's fingers probed his injured ribs. Hercules took the hunter's hand, squeezing it supportively and Iolaus managed a small grateful smile.

Tressius observed the fading bruises and the newly inflicted marks on his patient's flesh and shook his head sadly. The assorted injuries, he realised, had been inflicted over a period of several days or even weeks.

The moment the healer touched his back Iolaus gasped and all but crushed the demigod's hand. He fought the pain bravely, his breathing coming in laboured gasps and his eyes screwed tightly shut, but his strength was fading rapidly. When Tressius began to clean one of the deep and badly inflamed wounds, the hunter sobbed in distress and instinctively pulled away from his tormentor. The healer halted his ministrations and spoke softly to Hercules. "This would be easier if you held him," he suggested.

Lying beside his friend, the demigod pulled the trembling hunter close, locking him in place with an arm around his waist and another around his shoulders. Iolaus buried his face in a strong shoulder and took immeasurable comfort from the closeness of his lover's warm body. He lay enfolded in strong arms and bore the pain silently, flinching occasionally as Tressius completed his work.

When his patient's wounds were thoroughly cleansed, the healer left the bedside and Hercules took the opportunity to check on Iolaus. "How are you doing?" he asked softly, running his hand through damp golden hair.

Iolaus didn't answer the question, but looked up into his friend's face and said, "I've missed you."

Hercules smiled lovingly back at him then bent to tenderly kiss the top of his head. "I've missed you too," he whispered emotionally.

Everything happened suddenly, as the healer had intended it to. Hercules glanced up and his body went rigid with horror. Iolaus, sensing his partner's distress, struggled to observe the threat and glimpsed the healer approaching with a glowing blade in his hand. He pressed himself against Hercules. "Oh gods," he whispered as strong arms tightened around him. The blade hissed against his flesh and he screamed, his body writhing futilely within the restricting confines of the demigod's tight grip.

When his friend's body finally went limp in his arms, Hercules breathed a shuddering sigh of relief. The stench of burning flesh assailed his senses and tears threatened to spill from his eyes as he fought down rising nausea. The healer finished his job and covered the wounds with clean white linen. "You can let him go now Hercules," he encouraged gently.

The demigod shook his head and muttered numbly, "No, I'll hold him for a while I think."

The healer understood and efficiently gathered his equipment. "I'll return in the morning. I've left a cup on the table, administer the contents when he wakes up and keep him as still as possible," he advised and then quietly left.

The demigod gently rocked his lover in his arms, his tears flowing into golden hair.

*******************

For two days and nights Iolaus tossed in fever and delirium. He cried out when his pain filled nightmares assaulted him with terrifying images and Hercules refused to leave his side, sleeping only when his friend was calm and resting quietly.

On the third evening his struggles had ceased but his fever still burned and the healer feared for his patient's life. "His back is healing now so his fever should have broken. There's nothing more I can do, the rest is up to him," he said sadly.

Hercules held his friend's fever wracked body close and talked. He spoke of their childhood adventures, their friends and families, anything that came into his head in case the sound of his voice was somehow reaching his friend. "Please don't give up, Iolaus," he begged when exhaustion began to pressure him into despair. "I need you, my friend, I love you, please don't leave me."

**************************

Hercules woke with a start. Someone had spoken.

"Thirsty Herc," a muffled voice said against his chest.

The demigod's heart swelled with joy. "Iolaus," he said and pressed a hand against his friend's cool brow. "Your fever has broken, how do you feel?"

Iolaus sighed. "Thirsty," he repeated.

Hercules released him and scrambled off the bed. "Oh yeah, you said that already, sorry." He filled a cup with water and returned to the bed to help his weak friend to drink.

When he had satisfied his thirst, Iolaus regarded his partner with concern and mumbled weakly, "Uh, Herc, I hope you don't mind me saying so but ...you look awful."

Hercules gaped in amazement, then he began to laugh weakly as relief flooded through his weary body. He sagged onto the bed, wiping tears from his eyes. "You nearly died," he gasped. "Then you wake up and tell me that I look awful. What am I going to do with you?"

"You've never had a problem with that before, Herc," Iolaus said coyly, summoning up a weak grin for his lover. "I think you should get some sleep now, Herc," he suggested with a yawn. His eyes drifted shut and he snuggled up against his lover's warm body. "I think I'll join you. I'm so tired..."

The demigod contentedly watched the steady rise and fall of his peacefully sleeping friend's chest until his own eyelids grew heavy and he gave in to his body's demands for much needed sleep.

In the week that followed, Iolaus recovered steadily, his strength returned and he gained some weight. He talked little of his nightmarish ordeal and Hercules didn't push him, he would open up when he was ready.

The demigod was never far from his side and Iolaus slept in his arms at night. Dreams had begun to plague him and he would thrash and fight in his sleep, crying out at unseen assailants to leave him alone then awaken trembling and distressed.


One night he woke to find hands stroking him and he pulled away from the touch in blind panic.

"Iolaus. It's me, Hercules. It's okay," his friend's voice reassured him.

"Don't touch me," he begged. "Please, Herc, I need more time, I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Iolaus, I'll just hold you, I promise," the demigod soothed and held out his arms, inviting his friend to return to his embrace.

After a brief moment of hesitation, the hunter rolled back into the strong arms of his partner. Long after his friend had drifted back to sleep, Hercules lay awake and wondered how long he could bear to keep his hands off the man who slept so trustingly in his arms.

A few days later Darrion and Jason returned triumphant in their defeat and capture of The Captain and his ship. Iolaus wasn't interested in the details and refused to take part in the ensuing trial. Nobody pushed the matter since Lucius had willingly supplied sufficient damning testimony to hang the man several times.

Lucius visited Iolaus shortly after his arrival and the hunter greeted him with a warm hug. "I am so glad to have the chance to thank you for the kindness you showed me Lucius," he said sincerely. "I hear you are going to testify at the trial tomorrow."

"Yes, I want that evil man to pay for what he did to you and to my grandson," he said and lowered his head as tears threatened.

The hunter's eyes widened. "Petros?" he asked.

Lucius nodded, "Yes," he murmured.

"Lucius, my friend, I am so sorry," said the hunter sincerely.

"There is something else you should know," the old man said. "It was I who betrayed you to The Captain. I gave away your identity in the hopes that the knowledge would save my grandson, but instead it sentenced him to death. Please believe me, Iolaus, nobody could be more sorry than I am."

Iolaus felt no anger, no animosity or sense of betrayal, only deep regret and sympathy for the kind man's painful loss. He hugged Lucius warmly and said, "Don't punish yourself, Lucius, The Captain used all of us. I will always be your friend for the kindness you showed me."

With trembling hands the old man reached inside a dirty sack and pulled out a tightly wrapped bundle. "I had them cleaned for you," he said.

Curious, the hunter unwrapped the parcel and gasped in delight when his clothes were revealed. "Thank you, Lucius," he said, his eyes bright with tears.

Lucius reached inside his shirt and pulled something over his head. "I believe this is yours too," he said and held out the hunter's amulet.

Iolaus was overwhelmed. "I never thought to see this again," he said as he placed the leather thong over his head. "Thanks," he sobbed and tears flowed down two faces as the men, embracing warmly, gave in to their emotions.

The trial lasted only half a day. The Captain, was sentenced to be hanged at dawn but Iolaus didn't attend the execution choosing instead to wait for his friend to return with the news.

Hercules found the hunter sitting in the palace gardens, staring into the same murky pond he had looked into himself, only days earlier.

Iolaus glanced up at his approach. "Is it over?" he asked.

Hercules nodded and placed an arm around his partner's shoulders.

Iolaus fell silent for a few moments, then he turned to his friend and said, "Herc, I need to get away for a few days and Jason has said I can use his place."

Fear gripped the demigod's heart. "You want to be alone?" he asked.

"Yes, Herc, I need some time. After all that's happened I don't know if I can ever be the same again." He stood and walked a few paces then turned to face his anxious friend. "I don't want to hurt you, Hercules, the gods know how much I love you but I can't even bear to be touched..." He turned away as his emotions threatened to overwhelm him.

"Iolaus, I love you too, you know that. Take as long as you need." The demigod replied as steadily as his whirling emotions would allow.

Iolaus turned back, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "Thanks, Herc. Give me a couple of days, then come and see me, I'll know by then," he said gently.

Hercules fought desperately to keep his emotions in check. "Okay," he replied shakily.

Shifting anxiously Iolaus asked, "Herc, if we weren't lovers any more..." he stepped closer, his tears flowing freely now. "Could we still be friends?" he bowed his head, his shoulders shaking.

Hercules rose and gathered his sobbing friend into his arms, hugging him fiercely and his voice shook with emotion as he spoke. "Iolaus, we have been friends since childhood and nothing will ever change that. Go and take the time you need and know that I will love you and be your friend no matter what you decide."

Returning the fierce hug for a few moments Iolaus dragged his emotions back under control and broke the embrace. "Thanks, Herc," he said and pressed his lips briefly but meaningfully against the demigod's mouth. Then he stepped back, took a steadying breath, turned and walked away.

The sound of uncontrolled sobbing drifted on the warm afternoon breeze as pain and anguish poured from his shaking frame. He had always felt at peace in this place, among the lovingly cared for flowers, but before he could find solace in anything, he needed to unburden his tormented soul, release the pain. The tearing sobs gradually quieted to slow shuddering breaths, his body rocked gently to and fro as the comforting familiarity of the garden flowed over him. Eventually he was still, his breathing steady and rolling onto his back he gazed up into an expanse of azure sky. The heat of the sun soaked into his body, warming him to his soul, while tension and pain streamed out.

The healing had begun, not of his body, which was mending quickly but of his heart and mind. He spent the remainder of the day drifting around the garden, pulling up weeds here and there and remembering. He had spent some of the happiest times of his life here, with Hercules and Alcmene.

Curling up in the bed he and Hercules always shared brought much needed comfort and sleep came easily that night. For the first time in days his slumber was free of the terrifying nightmares which had left him trembling.

When he awoke, the sun was already high in the sky and he felt more rested and relaxed than he had for weeks. He set to tending the garden in earnest. Alcmene had always cared for this place lovingly but Jason wasn't much of a gardener. By mid afternoon he had all but exhausted his still depleted strength and lying in the shade he dozed contentedly.

The shadows had lengthened as the sun sank low in the sky and when he woke his first thought was of Hercules. He missed him, his smile, the sound of his voice, the warmth of his body. Closing his eyes, Iolaus imagined the demigod's naked body lying against his skin, his large but gentle hands touching and stroking. As the imaginary hands moved lower over his body, a long absent tingling began to radiate from his groin, increasing steadily to a familiar throbbing ache. Iolaus welcomed the return of life to his manhood with a joyous laugh. He no longer feared his lover's touch or that he would be unable to respond. "I wish Hercules was here," he sighed.

"That's a relief," a familiar deep voice replied. "I was afraid you would be angry when I arrived a day early."

The hunter scrambled to his feet and flung himself into the demigod's embrace. Hot tears flowed down his face as he clung to his friend. "I'm so glad you're here," he whispered.

Hercules was overwhelmed by the passionate greeting and filled with concern at his friend's tears. He led Iolaus into the house and sat down, pulling the hunter onto his lap. "Tell me what's wrong, Iolaus, please, I want to help," he urged.

Wiping his face with the back of his hand Iolaus sniffed and said, "There's nothing wrong, Herc, in fact everything's fine."

"But Iolaus, you're crying," the demigod pointed out.

"Oh yeah, well I'm okay, I'm just glad to see you," he explained as he finished smearing dirt across his face with his hand.

Hercules regarded him with a puzzled frown. "I thought you wanted to be alone," he said.

Iolaus jumped up and pulled Hercules to his feet, "Not any more," he said and a broad grin lit up his face.

Hercules couldn't help but return the smile. "I love you," he laughed.

Iolaus stepped closer and suddenly his hands were everywhere, touching, sliding and tugging at the demigod's clothing. "I love you too," he murmured huskily.

Powerful hands clasped the hunter's leather clad buttocks, lifting him from the floor and hungry lips possessed his mouth. Their tongues slid sensuously against each other, entwining in an erotic dance of passion and desire.

Iolaus moaned when his lover pulled away from his mouth and carried him to their bedroom. Clothing hit the floor and their entangled bodies sank onto the bed.


The hunter squirmed delightedly as his lover's hands and lips and tongue moved over his chest. One nipple was suckled and nipped while the other was rolled and tugged. A hand slid over his stomach and exploring fingers gently gripped the tip of his weeping shaft. He gasped, arching his back convulsively, pushing himself into the demigod's hand. Strong fingers gripped and moved over him, the hot mouth abandoned his chest and a teasing tongue flicked along the inside of his muscular thigh. His hips bucked as the hand moved faster, pumping him to explosive release, his hot seed spilling over the demigod's fist.

Hercules lay beside Iolaus and gently kissed him while his semen slick fingers slid beneath the hunter and sought his puckered entrance. Spreading his legs, Iolaus returned the kiss ardently, moaning into his lover's mouth as a finger pushed into his anus. Breaking the kiss, he lowered his golden head, took a hard brown nipple into his mouth and rolled it against his teeth with the tip of his tongue. Hercules moaned and thrust his probing finger deeper, eliciting a strangled gasp of pleasure from his lover as it reached its goal.

A second finger joined the first and Iolaus writhed against the hand, playfully biting down on the demigod's nipple. It was Hercules' turn to gasp as a hot bolt of delicious pain shot from his chest to his groin.

Rising swiftly to his knees, the demigod coated his pulsating cock with the remainder of his lover's spilled seed and positioned himself for entry. The tip of the demigod's throbbing organ pushed against his anus, forcing past the ring of muscle and Iolaus closed his eyes, revelling in the mingled pleasure and pain. Slowly, bit by bit the hot length filled him and he breathed out, consciously relaxing to relieve the cramping pressure. Gently, Hercules began to rock into his lover, withdrawing slightly and then returning smoothly to the clinging depths. He gradually lengthened the strokes, pulling back further and plunging with increasing vigour.

The blond man moaned as the delectable sensations of being thoroughly and lovingly fucked flowed over his heart and soul.

Hercules increased the pace of his long thrusts, reached for his lover's renewed erection and pumped his fist in time with the jerking movement of his hips.


Rapturous cries of ecstasy echoed through the house and garden as the lovers were united in simultaneous glorious orgasm.

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