By Ismaro

Disclaimer: The auther does not own the characters from Hercules: the Legendary Journeys. Those characters belong to MCA/Universal and were used without permission. No copyright infringement intended and no money was made.

Iolaus lazed back against the tree, the warm summer zephyrs fanning his golden curls, tumbling them about his face, tickling his ears and cheeks.

It was so lovely a day that no hint of danger encumbered his thoughts. Hercules was due to meet him any time now. The demigod had answered a call to restrain a rampaging Cyclops two villages to the west, while Iolaus took on a minor warlord just to the south of the lea, organizing the town's residents into a creditable militia and outfoxing the warlord with a strategy that lured his army into the town stockade and then calmly besieged it until hunger and thirst drove the marauders into capitulation.

All in all, two jobs well done, he expected. Iolaus was delighted, both with his accomplishment of winning the battle without loss of life, and with the much greater pleasure of knowing his best friend and partner would turn up at any moment to share the story of his own success.

Iolaus never doubted for an instant that Herc had won. That went without saying. A mere Cyclops against the son of Zeus? However, Iolaus did wonder what was keeping Herc. His own plan should have taken longer to implement, but his travel time was much shorter, especially since the blond warrior had run most of the way to catch his friend, unaware he had been held up.

But the golden head was beginning to nod now, the long, fast run catching up to him, as the fatigue from battle settled into his bones. The sun's heat, the scent of flowers and the soft, springy bank of thyme that spread out around the tree all beckoned the weary hero to take his just reward of rest.

Iolaus slid down the length of the trunk, turned over onto the bank of herbs, crushing and releasing their fragrance as he buried his face in the soft greenery, and with a groan of pure enjoyment rolled again onto his back. Discarded were his carrysack and other accoutrements. The lithe, lean, compact body stretched out sensuously, the sensitive lips curved as he relaxed, and his mind and body at peace, Iolaus fell asleep.

But he was not alone.

The eyes of his worst enemy watched and schemed and brimmed with hatred. How Hera, Queen of the Gods, Goddess of Marriage, loathed the golden hunter!

Ah, but Iolaus was the most despised mortal ever born, to Hera! Not only was he the best friend of her most despised half-mortal stepson, Hercules, bastard offspring of the King of the Gods, Zeus; not only had Hera's myriad attempts to kill Iolaus failed miserably as the partners worked together to foil and humiliate her at every turn; but also the carefree Iolaus was an affront to the Goddess whose special area of godhood was marriage.

Oh, certainly, Iolaus had had a wife, Ania, well-beloved, the woman with whom the warrior had planned to have a family. But his lovely sweetheart had died in childbirth, and the child did not survive long after. Iolaus had felt the double loss so deeply that he had never allowed himself to love any woman fully enough to wed again.

But he had loved many women well enough. The list was almost without end.

So finally Hera had thought of a way to remove Iolaus from Hercules' life, punishing both the tender-souled hunter and his long-time companion with one fell plot.

Even better, Hera had something like justifiable cause this time: she could allege to her errant, adulterous husband Zeus that Iolaus' many short-term love affairs affronted the Queen of the Gods, Goddess of Marriage. More, that the method of punishment was the due of his hubris, entirely appropriate to the insult Hera claimed.

So, drowsing in the afternoon quiet, waiting for his partner to finish his work and meet up with him, Iolaus was defenceless as the huge peacock eyes of his enemy watched, gloating.

Hera used Ania to begin the killing of Iolaus. The memories of the first tender loving between the young warrior and the beautiful girl who adored him flooded the maturer Iolaus' sleeping mind. He was lost in her beauty, living the experience of kissing sweet lips, caressing silken skin, burying his face in rosewater-scented hair, slipping inside her warm chasm as they both learned the joy of each other's body for the first time.

Iolaus, unconscious of his actions, freed himself and stroked himself and petted himself and teased himself and groaned in bliss until he climaxed, Ania's memory a potent aphrodisiac.

But Hera was not through with him yet.

[For Ania was in Iolaus' past, not in his present, and there was no completion now.]

Next it was Lydia, with whom he had fought a Hydra while Nemesis sought his life at Hera's command. Lydia, whose courage and resourcefulness had won all of Iolaus' respect as they fought free from the bandits who had captured them, ran a perilous race that trapped them between two enemies, and finally tricked the Hydra into killing the bandit leader before dispatching the monster themselves. Lydia who claimed a reward.

Iolaus relived every wondrous moment of that reward: himself, joyous from battle, playful with friendship, sensuous in their reaffirmation of life when they had just cheated death, uninhibited and driving. Iolaus climaxed again in his own hand, caught in the dream that it was Lydia who had given him that pleasure.

Hera smiled as the murder progressed.

[For Lydia was in Iolaus' past, not in his present, and there was no completion now.]

Then came Dirce, the princess who had challenged her own father, risking his wrath and displeasure, to ensure that Iolaus had a fair trial when falsely accused of one of Autolycus' thefts. While it was Hercules who brought proof of Iolaus' innocence, it was only by Dirce's ceaseless efforts and cunning that Iolaus was still alive when his partner arrived, Autolycus in tow.

The very real tenderness Iolaus felt for the dauntless young woman, who refused to give up even when it looked to everyone, Iolaus included, that he would die for the crime of another; his understanding of her problems with her unsympathetic father (so like Iolaus' own heartache at the disappointment his father had felt in him); his admiration of her agility of thought that bought him the time that saved his life: all of this had awakened passion between them. The third climax on that sunny afternoon was a tribute to Dirce, wrought by Iolaus himself unwittingly.

Hera closed her peacock eyes in glee and re-opened them to watch the mortal she would slay by his own hand.

[For Dirce's path had diverted from Iolaus' own, and she had responsibilities and he had responsibilities, and there could be no completion now.]

Xena. How to describe the splendour of Xena? The Warrior Princess, daughter of Ares by spirit and perhaps by blood, too. Their couplings had been of fair warrior with dark warrior, competitions in which both won, fierce, rough, mating like lion and lioness, then finally gentle, sweet, and loving, more loving than Xena had ever allowed herself to admit. The fourth climax outdid even the first, for Ania had never had the wildness that ran through the spirits of both the brunette warlord and the blond warrior.

Hera laughed at the intensity of Iolaus' response to Xena's memory. How much more could he take, and live? Hera would know the answer to that question as the sun shone hot upon him.

[For Xena had used and betrayed Iolaus and the love between them died, replaced at length with friendship and forgiveness, but there was no chance of completion now.]

To follow, Hera sent the image of Nebula, pirate, trickster, gameplayer. The traded insults, the innuendo, the fire in the eyes of both as man and woman sized each other up and liked what they saw, then entered the dance of seduction. Who had seduced whom? Did it really matter? Their passion soared together, and Iolaus' hands wrung a fifth orgasm from his tiring body.

Hera pressed her lips together. It could not be much longer, but however long it took, Hera was willing to wait; there were more than enough candidates to exhaust Iolaus' desires and stop his loving heart.

[For Nebula would have a kingdom to rule and Iolaus a different destiny, so there would never be completion, now or ever.]

Niobe was next. Wife, then widow, of his cousin Orestes, queenly, wise, an archer of great skill, and beautiful as a black swan. Niobe, over whom Iolaus had broken his heart twice. . .

[How could there be completion, for Iolaus?]

***

"Mom?"

Floating in pink satin and lace, Aphrodite stopped primping before her mirror for a minute, and smiled lovingly at her son. "Cupid! How's everyone? Bliss is well, isn't he?"

"Yes, sure, he's just in the terrible twos stage right now."

"But he's older than two."

"Try telling him that. Besides, how old are you, Mom?"

"Not a day over ...mumble, mumble."

"Uh-huh." The God of Love had proved his point.

"So, babycakes, what brings you to visit your old mother? Want me to babysit?"

"No, actually, I think something really strange is going on down there."

Aphrodite looked around her palace on Olympus until she spied the mirror on the mundane world that she used to keep in touch with the mortals she ruled.

"Okay, dude. Show me."

Cupid stroked his hand over the face of the mirror, and the picture focussed on Iolaus. Both the God of Love and the Goddess of Love and Beauty could read the mortal's thoughts, and both were certainly well acquainted with Aphrodite's best-beloved half-brother's best friend. Aphrodite in particular owed Iolaus a few debts.

"So Sweetcheeks is getting off on remembering old girlfriends. This is news?"

"No, Mom, you're missing the point. Check him out."

Aphrodite frowned prettily (everything Aphrodite did, she did prettily, of course). "I don't get it. Oh, no! Now I do! Who's doing this to him?" She was horrified and angry and rather frightened, to tell the truth.

"Who'd be your first guess, Mom?"

"Ares?"

"Try again."

"Hera? That cow? Why? Why do this to Iolaus?"

"Revenge, striking out at Herc, she hates him, all the ordinary reasons. Plus that thing with Ganymede . . . "

"Yeah, but, she's messing in my territory! Sweetcheeks never left a lover feeling used. I know, I'm the Goddess of Love. Where does The Heifer get off?" Aphrodite was extraordinarily lovely in a temper. It was a pity Hephaestus was not around to enjoy it.

"She claims it's because he's insulted her as Goddess of Marriage."

"Oh, sonny boy, stop right there!" Aphrodite had her hands on her hips and her magnificent blue eyes were flashing, her golden tresses tossing in irritation. "He was married. He was faithful while he was married. Everything else is my precinct, not that of our bovine excuse for a Queen. She's overstepped her limits."

"Yeah, but Zeus isn't going take a stand on this, you know."

"Well, 'duh!' Daddy has the guilts. I don't. Hera's not going win this little skirmish if I can help it."

Cupid smiled at his winsome and totally pissed off mother. "I kinda thought you'd feel like that."

"You bet I do. And I know what I'm going to do, too."

"Can I watch?"

"Watch and learn, son. You may need to stand off another god yourself one day. I'll show you how it's done."

Two shapes which had once been a Goddess of Love and Beauty and a God of Love turned to sunlit sparks and exited Olympus.

***

Hercules was unavoidably late. The Cyclops had taken about a minute to subdue, but the damage he had done before the demi-god got to Themopolis took much longer to fix. Hercules had found himself the center of a renovation whirlwind. By the time it blew out, Themopolis looked more like a city and less like the pitiful collection of hovels it had been before. The Gods had been kind to send the Cyclops and Hercules to town.

But whenever Hercules was late to meet Iolaus, he had terrible misgivings about what he would find when he caught up to his partner. Hercules sighed to himself, even as he strode toward their meeting place. Without ever looking for it, the blond warrior found trouble as easily as he could find a pebble beneath his bedroll. Iolaus had all the qualifications of a lodestone for disaster: an adventuresome spirit, a love of fighting and amazing prowess at it, an eye for human beauty (and much of it himself) and a compact, sleekly muscled body built for love-making.

Hercules seldom let himself think about the last characteristic of his spitfire companion. They had a friendship that had lasted twenty years, and whatever pleasure a liaison of the flesh might bring, the last thing Hercules wanted was to scare off, or worse, hurt, Iolaus in the fierceness of the might Hercules brought to the act of love.

Always with women, the divinely strong son of Zeus had had to restrain himself most strictly, but with a man ('with Iolaus,' said his inner self, 'with Iolaus'), Hercules knew his passion would outstrip his self-control. For the blond warrior who had been his shieldmate through thick and thin, to death and back, who undeniably loved Hercules with his whole heart and was equally loved in return, was no less passionate, no less demanding, no less fiery than the half-god himself, and Iolaus in the heat of love would burn away all of Hercules' barriers, leaving the elemental command that would not be brooked: Take! Take! Take!

Hercules simply did not trust himself enough. Golden Iolaus with the sea-blue eyes was too glorious to resist. So Hercules had never made any overture to the man who was his second self, his other, better half, and let the constancy of his affection speak for him through his acts, including the times he had fought death itself for the life of his best friend. And loyal Iolaus, knowing how tortured Hercules had always been in his dealings with Gods and mortals, being neither wholly one nor the other, gave his friend the gift of his love and companionship without any strings attached.

So when the demi-god was suddenly stopped on the sideroad by a shower of luminescent sparkles and his little sister appeared, Hercules' innards again clenched in apprehension. Aphrodite and Iolaus, the one before him, the other ahead somewhere, were a combination that left Hercules feeling very, very vulnerable.

"Say hey, bro," the vision in rose smiled briefly.

"Hello, 'Dite. What, is Olympus too boring to take these days?"

"Since you left, Herc, yeah, Olympus is, like, deader than Tartarus, especially with our step-moo making everyone miserable just by breathing."

Her tone sent a frisson down Hercules' spine. "You sound like that has some special meaning, sis. What's going on that I don't know about?"

Aphrodite sighed. While she had been waiting for what felt like forever for these two strands in the tapestry of the Fates to be woven inextricably together, she had not wanted a crisis like this to be the cause of it.

"Okay, Herc, here's the scoop. You know Ganymede?"

"Yeah. Father's cup-bearer." Hercules recalled the fair-haired youth whose masculine beauty had so enraptured Zeus that the King of the Gods had taken him to Olympus as his lover and servant. "What's the problem with Ganymede? And why come to me about him?"

"Well, it's kinda complicated." Aphrodite drew a deep breath into her totally awesome chest, and tapped a perfect finger against her half-brother's lips to keep him quiet while she told the story. "See, Hera was peeved with Zeus over some new fling, a girl called Eunice or something, and she got all 'I'm-The-Goddess-Of-Marriage-And-Here's-My- Husband-Dissing-Me' about it. Daddy couldn't have cared less, of course.

"So Hera decided to hit back. She tripped Ganymede as he was about to pour some wine for Zeus, but the kid turned around so he wouldn't splash Daddy, and it was Hera who got drenched. Dripping with red wine!

"Well, of course, everyone lost it. Zeus was guffawing, Artemis was chuckling, even Athena let out a giggle, and she hardly ever laughs! Ganymede couldn't keep a straight face, and, let me tell you, I was howling!

"So Hera storms out and wants revenge. She can't kill Ganymede; he's under Zeus's protection. Guess what other golden-haired guy with supremo male beauty and boyish good nature she decided to go after?"

Hercules groaned, "Iolaus."

"You got it, Big Bro."

"Where is he now, and how many monsters-du-jour do I have to kill?"

"He's asleep beneath the tree where you two were supposed to meet up. And you don't have to kill anything."

"He's asleep? No one's attacking him? What did she do? Poison him or something?"

"Something, Herc. She, uh, she's making him remember, you know, romantic encounters from his past. Relive them, sort of, only by himself."

"So? Sounds like fun to me, 'Dite."

"Yeah, sure, Herc. The first time. And the second time. And the third time. And even the fourth time. But . . . "

As the voice of the Goddess of Love trailed off and she flung her hands wide, Hercules finally got the message.

"Eventually it'll kill him." His sky-blue eyes went flint grey with despair.

"Uh-huh."

"Aphrodite, what can we do?" Hercules was frantic, his huge hands tearing at his fine ash-brownet hair as he paced furiously.

"Well, I can't do much more than tell you about it, and I only get to do that because she's crossed the line into my domain of goddesshood. She's been evoking memories not only of Ania, which is okay 'cause he was married to her, but also of Lydia (You met her, right? Thought so. Nice girl.), and Dirce and Xena and . . ."

"Okay, okay, I understand. Get on with it!"

"Well, all the affairs he had while he was unmarried and the women were unmarried are under my jurisdiction. I mean, 'Hello-o,' I am the Goddess of Love here, y'know?"

"Yeah, so?"

"So Hera's out of line with this 'I'm the Goddess of Marriage and he's dissing me' trash, which she's taking out on Sweetcheeks instead of Daddy, who actually deserves the flak. Let's me step in and do my stuff."

"But you said you couldn't do anything except tell me about it?" Hercules was shouting, and started to reach out to grab his half-sister and shake some sense into her.

"Yo, chill, Bro. Don't bruise the merch! The Hephster doesn't like it." Aphrodite stepped back out of harm's way and fluttered her draperies, annoyed.

"'Dite!" Hercules was about to break with frustration and worry.

"Look, it can turn out all right. Better than ever, actually, Herc," Aphrodite soothed her brother with mystery.

"How?"

"See, here's the deal. Hera's doing some kind of hubris thing here. Like Curly deserves to die like that because he wouldn't marry anyone since Ania, right? Only I get to intervene because I'm the Goddess of Love, and if he commits to anyone he truly loves before Hera actually kills him, I get to take her out of the game."

"Who does he truly love? Niobe? Nebula?" Hercules began making crazed plans to find and bring his partner's true love to him.

"Well, Herc, I'm afraid you're gonna have to work that one out for yourself." Aphrodite had to back off again, as Hercules reached for her. "Look, Big Bro, there isn't time to go find one of his ladies, y'know? I mean, the guy's been run through" -- Aphrodite counted on her fingers, eyes squeezed shut as she accessed some pool of information only the Gods got to dip into -- "six women now, and Niobe was the last." And the next, and the one after that, and so on ad infinitum, but there was no point in torturing her brother with that prospect.

Hercules struck a balled fist into his other hand. "Oh, Tartarus! He did, does love Niobe. That must have totally exhausted him."

"Yeah, well, he's due for another any moment now. And I hate to say it and all, being who I am, 'Dite, the Love Goddess, but it's not the way I want him to go."

"Me, either," Hercules confessed.

"There's no way back from this, Herc. He dies: he's dead bigtime. The order of the Queen of the Gods, even if it is stupid and unwarranted and off her turf, will take him down forever. I can't get involved after he's gone."

"So he has to commit to someone he truly loves before Hera's revenge is final?"

"You got it! And the last little piece of help I can give you is to do this!" Aphrodite waved a beautifully formed arm at her half-brother and Hercules disappeared in a shower of gold sprinkles, to find himself reappearing at Iolaus' side, where the blond hunter writhed in an agony of pleasure.

***

Hercules' heart lurched as he saw Iolaus for the first time since they had parted.

How could he have grown old in just a few days' time?

The life force was draining from the blond hunter with every passing second. His face was contorted, racked by the pleasure that had become agony. He did not moan or sigh in delight; he screamed with pain and panted for breath that was ripped from him too quickly and seeped back too slowly.

Hercules was watching Iolaus die.

"Not again!" the demi-god roared, only realizing he had spoken the words aloud when his ears began ringing.

He did the only thing he could think of doing: he fell to his knees and grasped Iolaus hands, dragging them away from his body's most sensitive parts, then held them firmly above Iolaus' head.

The warrior lay twisting, fighting to pull his hands back, forced by Hera's will to try to act out the memories of love-making that Iolaus had cherished in his often-lonely life. But he was no match for Hercules' strength.

Hercules' strength. The demi-god looked down at the writhing, tormented body of his dearest friend and realized that what he had thought would be their damnation might in fact be their salvation. He caught both of his partner's hands in one big fist, freeing the other, and started to gentle Iolaus with soft fingerstrokes.

"Shhh," he crooned, tracing the lines of anguish in Iolaus' brow, marvelling as the seams eased out and disappeared. "Shhh, I'm here now. You're going to be safe. I promise."

The words calmed the warrior's contortions. He went limp for a moment, trembling in all limbs from the potency of his visions and the grief they had caused to his flesh. But he was still in the grip of Hera's delusions, and nothing Hercules said could rouse him. Iolaus continued to quake as his mind played him false.

Hercules stretched out alongside his partner, turning both of them face-to-face on their sides, pulling Iolaus up against his chest. He worked his arm up under the back of the patchwork vest his friend wore and touched the bare skin beneath.

Iolaus started so violently from the contact that Hercules feared for his friend's heart.

"Shh, it's only me, only me, here with you. You're safe, remember? I promised," the son of Zeus affirmed. Then he ran his palm softly over the tense shoulders and taut neck.

How could he have guessed that Iolaus was garbed in satin, not skin?

Hercules increased the pressure of his ministrations to his partner's cramping muscles, the power in Iolaus' form shocking and delighting him both at once. While he had been worrying about his own greater-than-human strength, he had forgotten how much stronger a mortal man would be than a mortal woman. The war-honed, Asian-tempered steel of Iolaus' sinews and thews, still giving Hercules a battle to break away despite Iolaus' near-fatal weakness, was so different from Deianera's and Serena's womanly curves, and those of Xena herself, that the demi-god recognized his mistake even as his own body awoke at the friction between them.

This man could take even the passion of a Hercules.

That fact struck the demi-god like a bolt forged by Hephaestus. He groaned with remorse at the years lost to his doubts; he groaned with delight at the gift of the years to come. He groaned with desire.

Iolaus groaned, too.

Hercules stared at his partner's features. The eyelids were fluttering. Iolaus was struggling to come to wakefulness. Hercules acted without thinking, kissing the temple, the cheek, the nose, the lid itself. "Come back to me, Iolaus. Come back," he whispered. Then he set his lips against Iolaus' mouth.

How could he have guessed that Iolaus tasted of honey and wine and sweet herbs?

Hercules ran his tongue along the swelling lower lip and sucked it in. He nibbled gently and then tongued the whole circle of his partner's mouth.

Iolaus blinked and opened his lips to his lover. "Please," was all he could breathe out.

Hercules did please. Letting Iolaus' hands loose, he drew the man dearest to his soul to him, supporting him with one arm, cradling his skull with the other. Iolaus pulled his partner's head down to his, and this time the kiss was magnificent.

How could either have guessed that twenty years' worth of wanting could make the having incendiary?

Both were gentle and reverent with the other, both were fiery and demanding with the other, both were urgent, both were intent on taking the time to make this first experience of loving each other a sunburst of joy that would forever banish the memories of wrong decisions and groundless fears and substitute lovers.

It did so. Magnificently.

Hercules learned that with his barriers burned away, his elemental urge was: Give! Give! Give!

Even at less than half-strength, Iolaus knew what would set his Hercules afire. He set his hand at the closure of his partner's trews and waited.

This time it was Hercules who whispered, "Please."

Iolaus did please. When he had loosed the leather and lifted his partner from the bonds of clothing, he took the initiative and rolled Hercules onto his back, covering him. Aligning their bodies, holding close as they found the rhythm that strummed to the pulsing of their blood, Iolaus tangled one hand in Hercules' water-soft hair and set his mouth to Hercules' chest, then used lips and tongue and teeth at the small treasure trove on one side.

How could he have guessed that Hercules tasted of salt and copper and fine spice?

Hercules was busy kissing and fondling every part of his lover that was in reach. When the pitch and sway rose with Iolaus' increasing energies, he held his partner at the hips, catching as much of the well-muscled flesh as he could in each hand, neither thinking of the bruises that would show on the morrow, neither caring either. He rocked them against each other, velvet on velvet, iron on iron, flame on flame, until the clamour in their bodies and their mouths could not be held back, and together they shouted and climaxed and split the heavens above them, where no greater completion had ever been known than the demi-god who had loved a mortal too well to risk him and the mortal who had loved a demi-god too well to force him, found at last. In each other.

How could either of them not have known that he was not whole in body, mind, soul and spirit without the love of the other?

[Completion.]

***

Two men lay on a fragrant bank of thyme, smiling into each other's eyes lazily.

"Now?" Hercules asked, meaning 'What would you like to do next? Rest? Eat? Talk?'

But deviltry brewed in the Aegean-blue eyes that looked back at him. "Not 'now'," Iolaus said, grinning at the puzzlement in his lover's face. "'Forever.'" Then he sealed the vow with a dozen kisses.

A vision in orchid gauze appeared out of a scintillating mist. "So, like, Iolaus?" Aphrodite questioned, her gorgeous blue eyes consulting a scroll in one delicate hand as she hid her laughter at the sight of her brother and her brother's lover attempting to put themselves to rights after their tryst.

"Uh, yeah, 'Dite?" the golden warrior asked at last, running his hands through his thoroughly tumbled locks.

Aphrodite noticed that Iolaus appeared to have regained at least three-quarters of the vitality he had previously lost, and flicked a finger at the scroll, which immediately recorded the fact. "You said 'forever,' right?"

"Uh, yeah, 'Dite." There was a question in the confirmation.

"And, that would mean . . . ?" she prompted.

"Uh, I'm gonna love Herc forever," Iolaus stuttered, knowing full well that his chances of evading Aphrodite's inquisition were less than nil.

"O-o-o-kay, then. That settles things," the Goddess said with satisfaction. The scroll flashed and disappeared.

"Um, 'Dite?" Hercules ventured, after he and Iolaus had exchanged bewildered glances.

"Stay put, guys. You should enjoy this as much as I do." Aphrodite waved at the sky. "Oh, Madame Moo-person?"

Peacock eyes narrowed balefully at the impertinence and the sky darkened with roiling clouds.

"Chill, pill. I have a 'commitment' here. The 'forever' kind of commitment. The 'true love' kind, the kind you die for. Between two people who have truly loved each other for twenty years."

The undergrowth might have heard a hurried consultation as to who loved whom when, but the result was an instantaneous pair of silly grins which made no noise whatever.

Thunder began to drum a few miles away.

"Yeah, I kinda guessed you wouldn't have much of anything to say to that. You know, Horror, sorry, Hera," Aphrodite went on conversationally, "you roy-al-ly screwwwwwwed this one up. The commitment was made TWENTY YEARS AGO. You've been pissing in my tidepool, and I won't put up with it any longer."

One dainty fist suddenly grew to the size of a cyclone and decked a peacock eye dead-center.

The peacock eyes were gone, along with the clouds and thunder. Sunlight lit the meadows.

"Ow,ow,ow,ow,ow,ow, OWWWW!" 'Dite wailed, her hand back to a slightly swollen but otherwise normal size.

"Hey, sis, you all right?" Hercules asked, scrambling up, Iolaus beside him.

Aphrodite was shaking her injured hand violently.

"You pack some kind of punch, there," Iolaus said admiringly.

'Dite smiled at her Sweetcheeks. "Had a good trainer once. Taught me to put my shoulder behind the swing. Didn't tell me what to do afterwards."

Iolaus grinned back. "Didn't know you'd need to know. I thought Gods healed themselves."

"Not when they've been punching out other Gods," Hercules informed him.

"I know that now, Herc. I didn't know it then. 'Dite? You need a little snow or ice from the top of Mount Olympus. It'll take the swelling down. And some arnica for the bruising."

"'Kay. Thanks for the tip. And thanks for the opportunity," Aphrodite smiled at both men, apparently about to leave.

"Not so fast, little sister," came Hercules' stern voice.

"What?" the Goddess whined complainingly.

"You told me you needed a commitment now to save Iolaus' life. You told Hera the commitment was made twenty years ago. What gives?"

Aphrodite cocked her head challengingly. "Y'know, I am the Goddess of LOVE. Think about it." Then she looked into the tree and asked, "Hey, son-o-mine! You learn anything?"

Cupid flittered down from the branches. "You lead with your right?"

Aphrodite sighed. "Kids today. No respect. You just had a major lesson in godhood, Cupie-doll. Remember it. Don't piss . . . "

". . . in Aphrodite's tidepool," three male voices chorused.

"Right on," 'Dite smiled, raising a fist, then winced again. "Ow, ow, ow. Need ice now! Later!" She was gone in a shimmer.

"Y'know, she is definitely smarter than she lets on," Iolaus confided to his lover.

"Definitely smarter than us," his lover returned.

"Uh, Uncle Herc?"

"Yeah?" The demi-god turned to his nephew.

"Seeing as you guys are, like, engaged . . . you meant 'forever', too, right, Unc?" Cupid sounded a little unsure.

Hercules looked into the beaming blue eyes of the man he would love for all eternity, and admitted, "Yeah, I meant 'forever' too."

"And 'true love'?"

"And 'true love'."

"Well, then, here's a little present to start things off right. Gotta go." The God of Love was gone.

Hercules and Iolaus were left to stare at a vial of ambrosia-scented oil that would never run dry.

[Hera was conspicuous by her absence in the throne room of Olympus and the skies over Greece for as long as it took a shiner plastered on one Goddess's face by another, righteously angry Goddess to heal; which was a very long time indeed, especially as no one thought to suggest that *she* use ice.]

THE END

E-mail the author at lgl@istar.ca