By Arete
This story contains scenes of graphic sex between a man and a woman. If you are under 18 or if this is illegal where you live, please read something else.
The character of Iolaus belongs to Universal Studios and Pacific Renaissance and no copyright infringement is intended. The author is just having fun.
The character of Cianna, on the other hand, is purely fictitious. Any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. J
The events depicted herein take place after those in 'Twilight' and before, or regardless of, those in 'Reunions'.
Iolaus chose a small clearing in which to make camp for the night, the quiet babbling of a nearby stream doing little to afford him peace of mind. It had been a glorious few days, devoid of both the physical strain of fighting and the mental stress that accompanied it. Not that he didn't enjoy what they did, he and his best friend, but sometimes he wondered if Hercules realized how taxing it could be. It didn't matter where they went, there was always someone in trouble, always a warlord to overthrow or a petty scheme of the gods to diffuse.
He sighed as he set up camp. A break was necessary from time to time; so why did he feel so guilty about enjoying himself when he knew there were many out there who could benefit from his help? How many would die while he was off fishing and relaxing? How many villages would it be too late to save by the time he felt renewed and ready to carry on the way of life they'd chosen? He shook his head slightly. What harm could a few days do? Besides, it wasn't as though he'd abandoned Herc in favor of rest and relaxation. His friend was in Corinth, awaiting the return of his brother, the king, in order to break the sad news about their mother's death. He admitted, he'd been torn when Herc invited him to stay at the castle. If he'd thought he could be of any assistance, he wouldn't have considered leaving for a second. The truth was, he knew there was nothing he could do to soften the blow when Iphicles learned of the news, and furthermore, Iolaus had just watched his best friend grieve for the loss of his mother, he didn't think he could handle watching Iphicles go through the same torment. Alcmene's death had affected him as well; after all, she'd always treated him like a member of the family and he felt as close to her as he had to his own mother. Still, even harder was watching the pain in Herc's eyes as she slipped away, or the tears Jason shed as the woman he loved was lost to him. And now there was Iphicles, returning home so soon after the death of his own wife, to learn that he'd lost his mother as well. He knew how hard he'd taken it when he couldn't be with Rena at the end, there was no telling the guilt and frustration he'd feel at missing the chance to be with Alcmene when her time came.
Iolaus had declined the offer to stay; citing the fact that he thought it was more of a family matter and that Jason, Hercules, and Iphicles would need some time to come to terms with their grief. In actual fact, it was because he'd felt so helpless, watching his friends suffer and knowing he could do little to ease their pain. He'd possibly be of more help later, in helping them deal with the aftermath of the death, but right now, he knew his presence would have been little consolation.
Once he'd gathered wood for a fire, he headed to the stream, intent on catching his dinner. The lingering rays of the setting sun sparkled off the water and for a moment, he felt his spirits begin to lift. The feeling of well being was quickly replaced with dread as he heard a low growl directly behind him. He turned slowly, barely moving so that his actions couldn't be seen as aggressive, until he was face to face with the animal. A wolf, its lips pulled back in an evil snarl, stared back at him with eyes tinted gold by the late day sun.
"Easy fella," Iolaus whispered, more to calm himself than to placate the irritated animal. He moved his fingers slowly, reaching for his dagger while keeping his gaze locked with that of the would-be attacker. He froze all movement as the animal came closer, slowly approaching its prey with bared teeth. The growling intensified as did the speed of the wolf's advance and Iolaus knew he had little time to defend himself. He dove to the ground at his left, rolling further from the animal while he extracted his blade, too late to avoid the teeth that sank into the flesh of his lower arm as it protected his throat. Crying out in pain, he brought up the dagger and plunged it into the fur of the deranged creature. As he lay there, gasping in both surprise and relief, he could feel the weight of the dead animal pressing on his chest. Taking care not to further injure the arm, he pushed the lifeless carcass from his own body, his breathing heavy as he looked down at the still form. His blood ran cold as he noticed the thick mucous secreting from the animal's jaws. The animal had the madness, which explained the unprovoked attack, but did little to assure Iolaus of his own well being. Only once had he seen the effects of such a disease, and he had hoped he'd never have the misfortune of coming in contact with the so-called 'water-madness' again.
Quickly, he got to his feet and headed back to his campsite, knowing that time was of the essence. He started a fire and placed the blade of his dagger in the flames before reaching for the small pouch at his waist. Pulling it open with his teeth, he sprinkled a small amount of the fine powder on the injury and reached once more for the dagger. Without hesitation, he laid the heated blade atop the wound and gritted his teeth against the pain as the acrid smell of burning flesh assailed his senses.
Panic gnawed at his mind as he studied the cauterized wound. Even with the healing herbs, he wasn't sure he could escape the terribly slow death his childhood friend had suffered. His mind wandered to events long past, and the only time he'd had the opportunity to witness first-hand the course the disease would eventually take. A rabbit, one of the last animals he'd ever suspect of causing any real harm, had bitten Lacitius. At the time, though strange, it hadn't seemed like a life-threatening situation. The wound had healed and no one had given it a second thought after that. Three weeks later, the site of the healed injury had become irritated and painful, immediately followed by numbness in the arm. Though not much more than a child at the time, Iolaus was able to notice the marked difference in his friend. Lacitius had become depressed initially, totally uncharacteristic of his exuberant personality. Only days later, his demeanor had changed yet again, making him irritable and irrational. Iolaus could do nothing but stand by while his friend seemed to change before his eyes. He'd been forced to watch as Lacitius began to experience difficulty breathing and swallowing. Iolaus had agonized along with his friend as the illness progressed, causing extreme thirst but an inexplicable panic at the sight or mere mention of water. That's where the name had come from - water madness. Soon came the thick secretions that seemed to puddle in the mouth and throat of his infected friend. Days later, Lacitius was dead.
Iolaus pushed the thoughts from his mind, refusing to indulge in the possibility he could suffer the same fate. There had to be something he could do, some way to fend off the effects of the strange disease. Getting to his feet, he stamped out the fire, cradling the injured arm with his good hand, and headed back in the direction from which he'd come. Corinth had many healers; surely if he could reach the castle, Hercules would be able to enlist the aid of someone who could stop the progress of the disease. Hercules. The thought of his friend brought him to a halt. So soon after watching Hercules suffer the death of his mother, could Iolaus put him through the process of watching his best friend die the same slow, painful death Lacitius had endured? He imagined the possibilities. Perhaps he could be healed, and then everything would work out for the best. On the other hand, if there was no stopping the effects of the madness, was it something he wanted to inflict on his already grieving friend? Making an instant decision, he turned and headed South, away from Corinth and the man he'd come to love as a brother. If he were going to die, he would do it alone, without forcing those around him to watch and share the suffering.
Through the remainder of day's light and on into the dark, he trudged along, with no knowledge of where the fates would lead him. He continued South, stopping wherever he found a small village or a friendly farm, but never staying for fear the disease would strike and he would be inflicted with the same bouts of irrational anger that had befallen Lacitius. He realized Hercules would come looking for him, but he made every effort to cover his tracks, not wanting his friend to find him before he knew what lay ahead. The wound healed, without a sign of any complication, but still he kept moving, ever mindful of the continued possibility that the disease would strike. Carefully, he kept track of the days, making small notches on his scabbard as time went on. Weeks had gone by, with no sign of illness, and he'd considered returning to Corinth when the first symptoms had begun. Headaches, worse than any he'd ever know, were accompanied by bouts of depression and anger. He'd strengthened his resolve then, vowing not to return to family or friends. He couldn't let them watch him die that way, struggling to breathe and afraid to swallow the water his body would crave. Avoiding all populated areas, he's continued his journey, no longer sure why he was traveling, but knowing he couldn't stop. Finally, no longer able to stay on his feet, he'd leaned against a large tree, allowing his exhausted body to slide to the ground as unconsciousness mercifully claimed him.
He awoke to the sound of a soft voice. Struggling to clear his mind, he gradually became aware of a woman kneeling before him, her delicate features etched with concern.
"Are you hurt?" she asked earnestly.
"Wolf," Iolaus managed to murmur though dry lips. "Bitten."
"You need help," she insisted, struggling to help him stand. "Come, my home is not far from here."
Iolaus allowed himself to be helped along a worn path toward a small home nestled in the woods. His arm throbbed, and his body felt as though all energy had been drained from it. After a short rest, he would take his leave, but at the moment, he hadn't the strength to resist the unselfish offer. Once inside, the woman led him to a small cot and insisted he lie down. Without argument, he complied, glad for the opportunity to rest his weary body. Before having the chance to learn her name, he again lapsed into unconsciousness.
The next thing he remembered was the gentle feel of a hand as it brushed the hair from his forehead. Opening his eyes, he could see the woman smiling slightly as she bathed his skin with cool water.
"You're awake at last," she said gently. "I was beginning to wonder if you would be rejoining us."
"How long?" he croaked, his throat feeling as though it was on fire.
"Three days, " she answered, quietly. "You developed a fever, the wound on your arm is infected."
Iolaus frowned as he remembered everything - the wolf, the headaches, the effects of the disease.
"I have to go," he murmured, struggling to sit up. "It's too dangerous for me to stay here."
"I don't know what kind of trouble you're in," she replied, gently but firmly pushing him back against the pillow. "But you won't be able to travel for a while yet. You'll be safe here, I promise."
"You don't understand," he sighed, trying to rally his strength for another attempt at sitting. "I'm ill. I have the water madness." He saw her brow furrow at his words. "I've been bitten by a mad wolf. If I don't leave here, I won't be able to accept responsibility for my actions. I could get violent, even kill you."
"I'll have to take that chance," she smiled gently, "You're in no shape to travel just yet."
He leaned back in the bed, closing his eyes against the dizzying headache that was finally managing to make itself known. "As soon as my strength begins to return, I'll have to leave."
She nodded slowly, "Fair enough. Right now, you need some rest."
As she turned to leave his side, she felt a hand on her arm. Turning, she looked at him questioningly.
"Thank you," he whispered.
She smiled but said nothing as she turned and left the room.
His next conscious awareness was that of an inviting smell. Slowly, he pushed himself to a sitting position, closing his eyes until the resulting wave of dizziness passed. As he swung his legs over the side of the bed, he was aware of her entering the room.
"Feeling better, I see," she said simply, reaching to touch his forehead with gentle fingers.
"Much," he grimaced slightly. "Not up to slaying any hydras at the moment, but better than when you found me."
She looked at him quizzically, but didn't comment. "Feel up to eating something?" she asked.
He frowned at her slightly. "It just occurred to me I don't even know your name," he apologized.
She laughed lightly. "I told you two days ago. It's Cianna."
"Thank you for all your help, Cianna," he offered sincerely. "I'm Iolaus."
"I know," she smiled. "You told me. You were wild with fever at the time. I'm not surprised you don't remember."
"What else did I tell you?" he asked, curiously.
"You spoke a lot of your friend," she shrugged. "Nothing really coherent I'm afraid."
"Hercules," Iolaus smiled knowingly, "I'm not surprised. We're very close."
Cianna frowned in confusion. "No," she answered slowly, "Lacitius." She noticed as the smile faded from his features, and decided upon changing the subject. "About that food," she smiled brightly. "Are you up to sitting at the table? Or shall I bring it in to you?"
"I'm fine," he assured her, pushing himself slowly to his feet. "It smells wonderful. I'm starved."
"That's a good sign," she encouraged, lending a hand until he regained his balance. "Before you know it, you'll be as strong as ever."
He felt a slight dismay at her words. Was he actually recovering? Or was it only a stage in the illness he'd been dreading?
The hot food did much to improve both his energy level and his spirits. After dinner, they sat near the fire, each lost in their own thoughts as they stared into the mesmerizing flames.
"Cianna," he began quietly, "I really appreciation what you've done for me, but I have to leave here. You could be in great danger if I stay."
She turned to look at him curiously. "That's the second time you've said that," she mused. "Tell me about this madness you seem to fear so."
Iolaus proceeded to tell her to story of his friend and the terrible death he'd suffered. She listened intently, not once interrupting until he'd finished his tale.
"And you think you stand to suffer the same fate?" she asked quietly.
Iolaus shrugged. "All the signs are there. The mad wolf, the fever, the headaches. All symptoms that Lacitius suffered."
"How do you feel now?" she questioned, "Any numbness in the arm?"
He flexed it gingerly. "Actually, no, not yet. But it could set in at any time."
"Think about it, Iolaus," she persisted, "It's been how long since you've been bitten?"
He struggled to remember, counting the notches he'd made in the leather of his scabbard. "At least three weeks that I know of," he replied thoughtfully.
"And you've been here for a little over two," she pointed out.
"Two weeks?" he exclaimed in sincere surprise. "That long?"
"That long," she smiled. "You fell in and out of consciousness, which isn't exactly surprising considering your skin was like fire when I found you."
"Two weeks," Iolaus repeated, his voice barely above that of a whisper. "Herc must think I'm dead by now."
"Herc?" she frowned.
He glanced at her as though he'd forgotten her presence altogether. "Hercules," he answered. "He's my best friend. We work together."
"Ahh," she nodded simply. "Your friend, the son of a god."
Iolaus frowned. It wasn’t the reaction he'd expected. "That's right," he answered uncertainly. Shrugging off the reaction, he continued. "Anyway, I'm sure he's wondering what's become of me by now."
"So I guess that means you'll be off to rejoin him soon," she surmised, her voice light.
"Guess so," he shrugged, "Once I'm sure I won't meet the same end Lacitius did."
She studied him thoughtfully, "I doubt it, Iolaus," she offered her opinion. "You seem to be getting stronger. From what you've told me, you would be able to see the effects of the disease by this time. The symptoms aren't worsening, in fact, they're practically gone altogether." She smiled, "I think you've still got a few good years in you."
He returned the smile, her optimism giving him hope. "Thanks to you."
She shrugged, "I didn't do much. It was your own strength that pulled you through the worst of it." He watched as she turned back to the fire, the soft light reflecting off her eyes. Leaning over, he kissed her gently on the cheek.
"Still," he whispered, "I do thank you."
She turned, their faces mere inches apart. "You're welcome," she whispered in response. Slowly, she lessened the distance between them, brushing his lips lightly with her own. As she met his gaze, she tried to read his response to her actions. She saw the initial surprise, followed by a sort of understanding as he brushed a stray hair from her face.
"Cianna," he whispered, "I…."
She put a finger to his lips, closing her eyes against the regret she saw in his features. "Don't," she whispered. "Don't say it."
"It's not possible," he hurried to explain, despite her words. "Until I know for sure that I'm not ill, I just can't be with you … or anyone."
She opened her eyes to search his, seeing his doubt and fear. "All things are possible, Iolaus," she countered quietly. "Provided we believe in ourselves and each other." She raised his hand to her lips, kissing the palm of his hand gently while her fingers lightly caressed the skin of his injured arm. "I've seen the madness you fear. It's not in you, Iolaus."
"But we can't be sure," he hesitated, feeling the reaction of his body to her touch.
"Look inside yourself," she urged, bending to kiss the spot of his healed wound before raising her gaze to meet his. "Look past the indecision and fear; the guilt and the grief. The healing for which you search begins inside of you."
He stared uncertainly into her eyes, almost able to see the thoughts behind her words, before they flitted away behind a shroud of secrecy. "I don't understand," he frowned in confusion.
"Yes," she smiled sadly. "You do." She rose from her place beside him and headed for the door. Once she'd left, he continued to ponder her words and the meaning behind them. She was trying to tell him something, but what? He did as instructed and searched his soul for answers. Doing so, he was surprised to realize she'd accurately pinpointed his emotions. Indecision - should he return to his friend and the way of life they'd chosen? Did he want to? Fear - the fear of dying? Or was it the fear of losing yet another loved one? He considered the question for a long moment before going on to face the next feeling. Guilt. That one wasn't so hard to comprehend. He'd been unable to help Lacitius. He'd been powerless to fend off the pending death of Alcmene and save his friend the sorrow of watching her die. Was it guilt because his own mother was still alive and he never visited, knowing full well that Hercules would give his right arm for just another day with the woman who'd given him life? Or was it guilt at having been bitten by the wolf and escaping the madness that had befallen his childhood friend? Lacitius was dead, shouldn't he be as well? It was only then that he realized he'd been running from the wrong madness. His injury had healed and there were no signs of the debilitating disease. Surely he'd know if such changes were taking place in his own body. Which left only the grief - grief at what he'd lost and had yet to lose. Was he afraid of going back? Afraid that he'd be there when Herc's mortality would finally be decided once and for all? Or afraid of having to watch helplessly as another of his friends died? Perhaps Jason? Or Iphicles?
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door as it opened. He turned to her, tears sparkling in his eyes. "I understand," he said simply. She knelt beside him, smiling slightly but saying nothing. "How did you know? He asked, frowning.
"I've been where you were," she shrugged, "It's not an easy place to find your way back from. Some never do."
He moved closer to her, tracing the outline of her cheek with one finger. "I may not have if it weren't for you," he smiled gently.
"I told you," she returned the smile. "All things are possible."
He leaned toward her, searching out her lips with his own. As she returned the kiss, he slipped his arms around her, feeling the trembling of her body as she responded to him. Her fingers caressed the hard muscles beneath his vest as she pulled him closer to her, moaning softly as he parted her lips with his tongue.
As he lowered her to the fur beneath them, he gazed at her loveliness, the stirring in his loins evidence of his mounting desire. Slowly, he bent to kiss her again, cupping her face in his hands. Her response encouraged him, and he let his fingers slide slowly down the column of her throat to her shoulders. He pulled back slightly, meeting her gaze while he slowly loosened the lacing at her bodice, allowing the material to fall away, exposing twin mounds of perfectly formed womanhood. He sighed in appreciation of her beauty as he lowered his lips to her breast, taking one nipple gently between his teeth.
She moaned softly as he teased the sensitive bud, nibbling and suckling even as he reached for her other breast with his hand. She arched her back to meet his touch as he caressed her warm skin with lips and fingers. Reaching for the vest he still wore, she aided him in its removal and reveled in the feel of his skin against hers, his hard chest pressing against her exposed flesh. Her senses reeled, passion and desire driving her every movement as they helped each other off with the remainder of their clothing. As he took her in his arms, kissing her tenderly, she could feel the hardness of his manhood against the sensitive flesh of her thigh.
He began with her face, kissing her eyelids, her nose, her cheeks. Slowly, he made his way downward, lingering at the base of her throat before continuing on to her breasts. A small gasp escaped her lips as he kneaded the erect nipples with his fingertips, bringing her to an increasingly heightened plane of ecstasy. He traveled down her flat stomach, leaving a trail of heated kisses where his lips had been. As he reached the soft curls at the apex of her thighs, he heard her moan softly, her fingers entwining in his golden hair as he brought forth her desire. The gyrating of her hips intensified beneath him as his lips found the throbbing bud that represented the heart of her passion. He continued to tease, his lips and teeth working on the sensitive nubbin as his fingers gently stroked the folds of her womanhood. Her breathing quickened as he inserted a finger into her moistness, stroking slowly as his mouth continued to work it's magic.
"Iolaus," she breathed throatily, no longer able to stand the sensations he invoked in her.
In response, he parted her legs, raising her knees slightly as he positioned himself between them. Taking each of her hands in his own, he laced his fingers through hers and brought them to rest on the floor above her head. He lowered his head to kiss her, his tongue parting her lips even as his pulsing shaft entered her. Releasing her hands, he allowed her to embrace him as she matched his rhythm, her hips moving in perfect harmony with his own. He could feel her fingers digging into the hard flesh at his shoulders and he buried his face in her neck, gently nuzzling the soft skin and inhaling the scent of her hair.
As the pace of his movements increased, she wrapped her legs around him, urging him onward with each deep thrust of his manhood. She felt his body tense as he approached the pinnacle of ultimate desire, and allowed herself to be swept along, clinging to him as the waves of ecstasy washed over them both in a moment of blissful surrender.
He kissed her forehead as she lay in his arms, each unwilling to let go of the rapture they'd discovered. Finally, she raised her head to stare into his eyes, a sad smile on her lips. "You'll be leaving soon," she spoke quietly, more as a statement than a question.
He pondered her words, his emotions struggling against what he knew had to be. Propping himself up on one elbow, he stroked her cheek with one finger. "Not tonight," he whispered, lowering his head to hers. All thoughts were pushed from her mind as the hours slipped away, each of them caught in a whirlwind of passion and desire that would last throughout the night.
She awoke to find herself alone, a blanket covering her still nude body. "Iolaus?" she whispered groggily. Receiving no answer, she briefly wondered if he'd already left. Getting to her feet, she wrapped the blanket around her and started the fire. She turned as she heard the door open and saw him enter. "Good morning," she smiled uncertainly.
He came to her, a sweet smile lighting his features. "Good morning." He produced a bouquet of fresh wildflowers in a sweeping gesture. "Lovely flowers," he murmured, his lips brushing hers. "For a lovely lady."
She accepted the flowers, tears brimming in her eyes. "You're leaving."
"I have to," he answered quietly. "I can't let Hercules think I'm dead. It's not fair to him after all he's been through."
She nodded but said nothing, not able to trust her voice.
"I'll be back," he promised, "As soon as I let Herc know I'm all right, I'll be back."
"You don't have to," she shook her head slightly, forcing a smile despite the tears in her eyes. "Once you leave things can never be the same."
"Of course they can," he assured her, frowning slightly. "It isn't forever, Cianna. You have to trust me."
In response, she touched his cheek, allowing a single tear to trickle down her face as she smiled sadly. "Nothing is forever," she whispered. Kissing him lightly, she added, "Good bye, Iolaus." She turned her back to him, watching the fire as she waited tensely for him to leave. She could sense his uncertainty, but could offer no reassurance. Finally, she felt his hand on her shoulder, his touch gentle but firm.
"I WILL be back, Cianna," he whispered.
The next sound she heard was that of the door closing as he walked out of her life.
The reunion was a happy one. Despite Hercules' worry over his friend, he was relieved to find he was alive and well. He listened intently to the story of the wolf and the reasons for his departure.
"I understand," Hercules placed a hand on his shoulder, "I'm your friend, Iolaus. If you're in trouble, I want to be there, even if the situation seems hopeless."
"I know that now," Iolaus smiled, remembering his time with Cianna. "She helped me to understand what I was running from. Even though the threat of madness was real, it didn't compare to everything else I was feeling." Looking up at his friend, he smiled sadly. "I have to go back, Herc. She saved my life."
"I'd love to meet her," Hercules smiled uncertainly, not knowing if the return was intended to be permanent.
Iolaus nodded, "Let's go."
After days of traveling, they reached the small house in the clearing. "Cianna!" Iolaus called jubilantly. "It's me, Iolaus." He frowned as no response was forthcoming and tried the door. It swung open slowly, allowing them entrance inside. They looked around in silence, each of them puzzled at the sight that lay before them. Inches of dust covered every surface and it was apparent no one had been in the small dwelling in quite some time. "I don't understand," Iolaus breathed, his voice catching. "I was here not two weeks ago."
"Are you sure it’s the right house?" Hercules asked uncertainly.
"I'm sure," Iolaus answered in agitation. "That's the bed where she nursed me, there's the fireplace where she cooked."
"Perhaps the fever…" his friend touched his shoulder.
Iolaus brushed it off, turning angrily. "I didn't imagine it," he croaked, his eyes wild. "Everything I said was true, she was here." Suddenly, a light dawned in his eyes. "Perhaps she's in town," he exclaimed excitedly. "I told her she shouldn't be living here alone. I tried to convince her she'd be better off in town." He hurried through the door, not waiting to see if his friend would follow.
The trip into town was a short one, neither man speaking what was on their minds. When Iolaus reached the small village, he inquired of the first person he saw, an elderly shopkeeper. "Excuse me," he hurried, "Can you tell me if Cianna is here? She used to live just north of the village."
"Cianna?" the old man frowned. "I'm afraid she's gone."
"Gone?" Iolaus frowned in disbelief. "Gone where?"
The man looked uncertainly from the small man to the larger one and back again. "She's dead. Been dead for years."
"That's a lie," Iolaus hissed. "I was with her not two weeks ago."
"I'm afraid you're mistaken," the man answered evenly.
Hercules restrained his friend as he made a move toward the man. "Hold on, Iolaus," he suggested in a voice both gentle and firm. Turning to the old man, he added, "Can you tell us what happened to her?"
The man shrugged, "Like I said, it was years ago. She lived there with her husband, Antros. One day he was bitten by a wolf while hunting. Got some sort of strange infection and died. She blamed herself, though the healers told her there was nothing she could have done. Couldn't bear the guilt of having to watch him die, I expect."
Hercules noticed the color drain from his friend's face. "So what happened to Cianna?" he repeated.
"Took her own life," the man sighed. "Sad story, it was. She never got the chance to realize it wasn't her doing, that sometimes the people we love die and there's nothing we can do to stop it."
"That's what she was trying to tell me," Iolaus whispered, barely audible.
"S'cuse me?" the man frowned, leaning closer to catch the words.
"Nothing," Hercules smiled encouragingly, "Thanks for all your help." He clapped his friend gently on the shoulder and led him back toward the house.
Iolaus walked as though in a trance, trying to decipher the meaning behind everything he'd heard. When they reached the small dwelling, he entered, standing in the middle of the room and gazing at the spot in front of the fire.
"You OK?" Hercules asked quietly.
He shook his head. "No," he answered huskily, "I don't understand this, any of it."
His friend could only shrug in response. "I wish I knew what to tell you, Iolaus. Perhaps it was the fever after all. What you describe isn't possible. It's…" His voice trailed off as he noticed his companion moving slowly toward the fireplace. Frowning, he watched as he knelt to pick up a dried bouquet.
Iolaus took the fragile flowers, watching in awe as they crumbled in his hands. As the remnants fell to the hearth, he could hear the sound of her laughter and knew it had been more than the fever he'd experienced. Turning to his friend, his smile belied the tears shining in his eyes. "Anything is possible," he shrugged sadly as he crumbled the remainder of the bouquet and let it slip through his fingers. "Provided we believe in ourselves and each other." With a silent thank you, he followed his friend out of the door and closed it quietly behind him.
THE END
Addendum to the Disclaimer: No flowers were actually crushed during the writing of this story. Likewise, no wolves were in any way harmed, mad or otherwise. There was, however, a certain amount of drooling involved, but the author has no way of knowing whether it can actually be attributed to the disease known as 'water madness'.