Night Games
Title: Night Games
Author: McJude
Rating: R
Summary: A night of male bonding and surprises.
Author's Note: As this is the twentieth story I have written using these characters, I hope everyone, including those at Renaissance and Tribune realize that I am just playing with their people. If they haven't sued me yet, I feel confident that they are not going to do it for this one. It is a story about male bonding with campfires, hunting, fishing and thinking about sex every five seconds or so.
"Tell me again what we are going to do tonight, and why I am to even to begin to think that I will enjoy it?" Tyr watched the glowing Captain Hunt as he changed from his high guard uniform into blue denim shorts, an orange T-shirt adorned with a small, cuddly animal and the words "Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary," and the shoes he usually only wore when playing basketball. Evan Hopewell wore similar shorts and an open-front shirt with bright flowers that looked as if it had been borrowed from Seamus Harper.
"What is it that you have planned for us to do this evening that requires us to be half naked. This isn't sexual is it, because if it is I will definitely opt out and spend my time in quiet contemplation." Tyr continued.
"No, It's not sexual. It's male bonding." Dylan glanced over his shoulder to see if Evan was pouting when he heard that statement. He knew Evan would like it to become sexual, but they had shared the sex earlier today and that would have to suffice. Tonight's activities would include things that he and Evan had not done for centuries and that he was certain Tyr had never voluntarily engaged in before. He wondered how strange the Nietzschean would find them. "It's just something we used to do in Greece, how we lived really, and we thought it would be fun to go back and re-live it at one of the few places in the universe where it is still possible."
"You and Evan actually lived like this. Excuse me, but I have always believed the Greece was considered to be a cradle of civilization on Earth. Did you really live in a time before houses?"
"Of course there were houses, but we traveled a lot."
"I believe they also had inns."
"Oh, we stayed in inns sometime, but we really didn't have a lot of money. Basically we depended on the kindness of strangers, so often we camped out under the stars."
"It would appear to me that you were no better than hobos and tramps."
"And when was the last time you had a permanent residence, Tyr Anasazi?" Evan broke in. He had difficulties sometimes with the Nietzschean's naturally superior attitude.
Tyr made one of his disinterested faces, and Evan realized his jab had struck home.
"Come on, Tyr, it's going to be fun." Evan chided. "No actually more than fun, it's going to be wonderful. Especially if I can snare some rabbits. Do you know the last time I had rabbit roasted over an open fire."
"With or without chestnuts?" Tyr said casually.
"Why do we have to take him, Herc?" Evan realized the name had slipped out. "Sorry, buddy, just seemed natural. You know, maybe it would be better if we called each other our real names tonight."
"My REAL name is Tyr Anasazi, and I find this game the two of you are playing juvenile at best, with or without made up heroic names."
"Am I sensing that you don't believe that I really am Hercules?" Dylan watched the Nietzschean for a reaction, even though he knew none was forthcoming. "Yet at the same time you believe that Harry Wagner is Ares? Why?"
"Let's say I humor the man. I have never really, intellectually believed his 'I am a God' story, but he is an interesting MAN."
"And a good lay," Evan added.
"My brother has been known to zap people with a fireball for less than that." Dylan said/
"I have spent a lot of time with Mr. Wagner over the past few years and I have never seen anything that would indicate that he is anything other than an physically attractive and powerful man."
"That was because you left early that last time we went out together," Dylan continued. "Listen, Tyr, I don't have time to argue my brother's godhood. I know he was one once. I believe him still to be one, but maybe he's just like Iolaus and myself, just an immortal." Dylan said the words with authority because he was the Captain, but only called himself "an immortal" because Iolaus had assured him that he was.
"Ah, so very comforting to be in the company of immortals. Sometimes I wonder if I should just try to kill one of you to prove that you are wrong."
"Herc, can't we get started. This guy is not going to believe us anyway. I've got rabbits to trap if we are going to have anything for dinner."
"No worries, I've actually secured some food packets in case you are unsuccessful, Iolaus." Herc commented.
"You question my ability to catch a rabbit?"
"Actually I question the presence of rabbits in this artificial environment. I doubt if they are a native species, and a person would be extremely foolish to introduce a species with such prolific breeding habits into a balanced habitat such as this. You remember when they introduced rabbits to the Australian continent."
"Herc, you're beginning to sound like Tyr. And, there's nothing to worry about here as long as a certain Golden Hunter pays a visit now and then."
Tyr was intrigued by the ability of captain and the librarian to slip into the assumed identities in this role playing game. Although he honestly doubted their foolish tales about a past life together in ancient Greece, it would be interesting to watch the two men go about their attempted re-creations.
"Captain Hunt," he said, "Where do I find something equally outrageous to wear to this Corroboree."
Dylan pulled out a third pair of denim shorts and a purple tank top for Tyr, who made a face when he saw them.
"Don't you just love vintage clothing?" Dylan commented.
"You mean clothing from a time before the concepts of style and taste were developed. You cannot make me believe that this was what you wore in ancient Greece."
"No, Tyr, I'm relying on my brother to wear those clothes for you. Hope he comes through."
Tyr stripped off his leathers and chainmail, without comment from Dylan, and put on the casual clothes. Meanwhile Evan ran out into the grounds in search of the six illusive but none-the-less delicious white rabbits Malcolm had released on the retreat a few hours earlier.
* * * * * * *
High Guard Academy, approximately 320 years earlier.
Dylan Hunt fingered his newly awarded high-guard force-lance. With a flick of a button it would extend or retract. It was the most modern and sophisticated of weapons, one that could be used not only to shoot and stun, but also to fight in the ancient hand-to-hand style. He knew he could depend upon it. In his hands it was an extension of himself, capable of being used in many ways to do many forms of damage, but in the hands of someone else it would be lethal to the user.
"Dylan," a female voice called from the hallway. "A bunch of us are going down to the beach tonight, get our running out of the way on the sand, then maybe build a fire, drink a little wine, sing a few songs, you know, partee."
"Sorry, Tracy, no can do. I made an appointment to meet with Dr. Suess to talk about his class tonight."
The short brunette had her head into the room and was now laughing at the cadet clothed only in his underwear playing with his force lance.
"You know, Dylan, it's not just a penis extension. They give them to the women, too."
"Shut up, Tracy. You know I can beat your butt with this."
"I'd love to see you try," she answered flirtatiously, "I'd love to see you try. Have fun with the children's book author who thinks he can teach us about making war from reading and lecturing. We'll think of you fondly when we are all drunk and naked and covered with sand. Think of you back here playing with your force-lance. Think of me, Dylan."
She was gone, and Dylan didn't have time to contemplate the fact that once again he was choosing the high ground over his personal pleasure. He had wanted for months to spend time alone with Tracy, to get to know her better, to find out if her skin was as soft as it looked, to find out if her mouth could be used for other activities other than teasing him. God he wanted her to tease him. Privately. He couldn't meet with Dr. Malcolm Suess with a hard on, for Christ's sake, so it looked as if he would have to shower before getting dressed for the meeting. He tried to think of war and not love.
* * * * * *
"So tell me about your family, Corpsman Hunt?"
"Really not much to tell. I was born while my father was away on a space flight. He was gone a lot, honestly I don't remember him at all, because he died on the next one he went on." Dylan had not expected the instructor to inquire as to his personal life. He was somewhat worried because as a teen he realized that either he was conceived by an artificial insemination or a dalliance his mother had with another man. It was not something you discussed with your mother, especially when your mother was as genteel as his was, so he just kept it to himself.
"I understand that you mother is a beautiful woman, known throughout the planet for her gardens."
"She has managed to restore many of the floral species that grew on Earth. She found seeds in old dried flower wreaths and potpourris and worked with genetic engineering to crossbreed until she had a full range of colors. Some of the flowers have been shown useful as a source of naturally occurring medical agents."
"Wow, and I though she only dug in the dirt."
"She also was an expert at matching trace elements to create perfect replicas of the soils from various areas on Earth. She is working on climate simulation right now. Eventually she will be able to match each flower to its original micro-climate. My mother is a most remarkable woman."
"Siblings?"
"I had an older brother and three younger sisters. The sisters were adopted; two of them are Persieds. But I didn't take time from my homework to discuss my family with you, why did you want to meet with me?" Dylan tried to read something in the instructor's cold gray eyes.
"Why did you chose to attend the High-Guard academy?"
"I could say they chose me. I'm tall, very fast, very strong, test well. I really didn't see myself as a professional athlete. I don't know. It was something my mother talked about. My father was High-Guard so I guess it was just genetics."
"What would you do if you could do anything?"
"Save the rest of the universe?"
"Very noble, but you know you can't."
"I can try."
The man continued to ask meaningless questions and listen to equally meaningless answers. Dylan was not about to open up to this instructor, it might be a test, he might be looking to see how easily an enemy might find out his secrets and use them against him.
"Sexual preference?" the instructor asked.
"Yes, I prefer to keep it to myself."
"I wasn't asking to proposition you, if that is what I am worried about. I just wondered. The days of "don't ask, don't tell" are long gone. We embrace all forms of sexuality in our officers."
"Bullshit. When push comes to shove, there is a definite preference for married officers with children. I fully intend to fulfill that obligation after my training is complete."
"You call a family an obligation. What do you do for pleasure?"
"Right now I don't have time for pleasure, I am an academy cadet. When I am not training or studying, I usually sleep. Alone."
"Dylan, you are the last person I should be telling this to, but enjoy yourself while you are young.
Let me suggest an option, I honestly believe that there is nothing more you can learn from attending my class every day. Read the materials, it's all written down there, and come and take the exam; but I want you to take that time every day and spend it with some other people. Get to know them. Learn about them. Learn to love them. When it all comes down to the counting it's the people in your life that will make a difference. Embrace them."
"Fuck you. I don't need this. I'll gladly not attend your class because I have found it totally worthless. You are not High Guard. You are not Vedran. I don't see that there is much I need to learn from you. I'll use that hour as I see fit and certainly not by embracing people's differences."
"I pray you reconsider, Dylan."
"Pray!" He spit the word back in the instructor's face, rose and opened the door. "Since when do High-Guard cadets pray?"
"You would if you knew the right god." The instructor added as Dylan left his office. He closed the file, put his hands on it as if to feel its warmth, and smiled quietly. He had found his son.
* * * * * * * * *
Dylan wondered why he had thought of that long past high guard academy event as he sat on the riverbank. Maybe because this was a religious retreat, a place to go and contemplate as his instructor had suggested, possibly even a place to pray. If there were a god or gods, this would definitely be the place for communication with them. He was amazed at the effort that had gone into changing this small piece of an industrial and mercantile drift into a model woodland. Wayest were thorough, Magogs were devious, but Rev. Bem was a freaking genius.
Evan had set three snares to catch rabbits, joined Tyr and Dylan, and proceeded to give Tyr fishing lessons. Surprisingly the Nietzschean had lost some of his surliness and seemed actually interesting in trying to catch the fish. The fact that his patience was quickly rewarded with a rainbow trout might have had something to do with his enthusiasm. Dylan was content to sit back, watch the two men interact, and remember things he hadn't thought about for centuries.
* * * * * *
Harry flexed and posed in front of the full-length mirror in his hotel room. After the violinist had rejected him, he had switched from coffee to shots of tequila. While they did little for his success with woman, they did make him feel warm and fuzzy inside. Comfortable enough to contemplate going to the Wayest retreat, not as much to see Tyr, as to torment his brother and his friend.
Gods don't have to pack suitcases. He could make any clothing he wanted materialize at will, but today he had difficulty choosing. Would the thin line that his black silk boxers would make under his tightest leather pants be rude enough to negate the thrill he would get exposing his tented self to the group when he removed the pants? He voted for the boxers. He chose one of his oldest and most ornate tunics -- the one with the carved leather and silver embossing. Despite the advice Evan had given him about the jewelry, he decided to wear both the earring and a pendant bearing his symbol. Tonight was even a night for gauntlets, he hadn't worn them in ages and wondered if Tyr would think he was just mocking him. Maybe he was, but they he loved the way they flashed in the light.
Hair? He chose a shoulder length loose and full look. Long to ninety percent of the men in the universe but short as far as Tyr was concerned. He looked almost exactly as he had four thousand years before. He looked like the God of War.
He left the hotel and stopped at a couple of bars just to see his effect on the patrons. He cautioned himself not to drink too much, just in case he ran into a certain leather girl with a whip. He purchased a large bottle of tequila for later, wrapping it none to carefully in a brown paper bag. Then he realized he would need another bottle of liquor, and took the necessary steps to obtain it.
A stroll through the square noted that the violinist was still playing. She had moved on to Tchaikovsky which brought back memories he had always had about Xena and him living in Russia as husband and wife. He realized that it was really just an old dream, but when you got as old as he was, dreams and memories almost ceased to be distinguishable.
* * * * * * *
Testosterone had prevailed over aquatic and mammalian pheromones, so that Evan and Tyr actually had wild animals to serve for dinner. Dylan was fairly sure that the river had been stocked with fish in deference to the food requirements of Rev. Bem and other visiting Magog, but he wondered if the rabbits had been also stocked, or even if they were actually rabbits. However, he was content to let his friends pretend they were once again hunters and fishermen, and just lay back and watched as they built a fire and cooked the food on the open flame. Rev. Bem had provided bread, olives, and cheese, and Tyr had found a stash of herbs that brought the meat and fish up to Nietzschean culinary standards.
"I wonder if I should run some of the rabbit up for Joan and Beka? Rev. Bem said she had been craving it all during her pregnancy." Dylan asked.
"Let me get this straight, Herc. We catch it. We clean it. We cook it. And you take it up to Joan and get all sorts of "good guy" points. I don't think so." Evan had also managed to drink two full bottles of some sweet red wine he had insisted they stop and buy that afternoon. Unless someone showed up with a bottle of good scotch or maybe brandy, Dylan was about to reinstate his "no drinking except at weddings" policy. He felt a shiver go up his spine. That wine was enough to keep you sober.
Tyr, who had taken the lead with the preparation of the food, seemed to have relaxed a little and looked at him and shook his head when Dylan had mentioned Joan. It had been a bad idea. Tonight was a night for male bonding.
"OK, bad idea. But is there anything I can do?"
"How about telling us why we are here?" Evan commented. "Now don't get me wrong, this is great. Sure beats sitting around reading the computer screen and yelling at Harry to stop jerking off -- sorry about that Tyr -- but I do have a job."
Dylan grunted. Maybe he should have something to drink? "Rev. Bem asked me to come. To bring Tyr, and to ask you and Harry if you could possibly come. I assume at sometime tonight he will come down and tell us what he needs to tell us. I think he is probably waiting for Harry."
"If he is waiting for Mr. Wagner, I am sorely afraid he will be waiting all night. When I left him he was asking a female violinist exactly what pieces she had in her repertoire. I don't think my friend is very choosy." Tyr added.
"I don't know, Tyr, Harry seems to be very discerning when it comes to classical music." Evan added.
Dylan laughed to himself. It was like both of these men knew a different Ares than the one he remembered. It was like his brother had suddenly discovered that he had a brain and proceeded to use it instead of his penis to lead himself through the universe. Sometimes though Ares seemed to slip back into that old pattern with which Dylan's memory was more comfortable. Today might have been one of them.
Tyr had packed the table setting for dinner in a basket he had found at the retreat house and proceeded to lay out a blanket with plates and utensils for the three of them.
"I have additional place settings if anyone else chooses to join us. Where is Captain Valentine, Captain Hunt?"
"I told her that this was a night out with the boys and she understood. She is quite understanding that way. She just told me not to get too drunk and come home and snore."
"You know when you snore, buddy, I'll see what I can do about that. Maybe Tyr will want to help?"
"No help from me. I have been having serious thoughts about the idea of becoming celibate."
"Geez, Tyr celibate, Herc sober, what's in it for me? Might as well go back and read about Nietzschean genetics for all the fun I'm going to have, and by the way Tyr, celibacy sucks."
"Why should you, Mr. Hopewell, be reading about Nietzschean genetics?" Tyr's glared at Evan, and totally dismissing the idea that his last comment might be a request for a blow-job.
"Just a project I'm working on. Assigned to me by one of the head librarians. I kept telling him I wasn't the right man, but they kept me on the project. I've learned a lot." Evan said.
"Do you care to share it with us? I am always interested in what other species have recorded about my own."
"No, I've been reading real Nietzschean texts." Suddenly Evan realized that he was moving into a shaky area and probably should stop before he went too far. He had not reached any conclusions about his research except to note that the origins of the Nietzschean species were not nearly as scientific as its members professed. There was a bit of influence from an outside source -- actually a lot of influence.
* * * * * *
Ares made a spectacular entrance in a flash of blue light. Tyr jumped to his feet and assumed a defensive pose. Evan lay back on his elbows and laughed; he hadn't seen that display in a long, long time. Dylan also jumped to his feet and then started laughing. The shock of Ares flashing himself to the river's edge could not overcome the hilarity of seeing him in fully God of War regalia.
"How did you do that?" Tyr asked.
"It's what I do. How do you think I get around the universe? Or were you too busy thinking other thoughts about me, lover."
Tyr wanted to smack him. Obviously Harry was quite drunk. The last time he saw him in that state, Harry had ended up. . . He didn't want to think about how Harry had ended up or about anything else that happened that night.
"I figured the rest of you might have a bit of catching up to do. I know my brother here is not going to drink tequila or that rot-gut red wine my buddy Iolaus drinks, so I brought you this." A litre bottle of Oban scotch appeared in his left hand. "Take care with it, brother, I had to go a hell of a long way back in time to get it for you. I know it was a favorite."
"That's not Vedran scotch?"
"No it's Scotch scotch -- roasted over peat -- I sure hope you remember drinking it. Not that you were ever a big drinker. I suggest you drink it tonight, get as fucked up as the rest of us."
Dylan wondered why his brother's memory, even under the influence of tequila, was so much better than his was. Except for the truly ancient memories with Iolaus, he had no memory of ever being on Earth, let alone his likes and dislikes. He wondered what millenium this scotch had come from and what he was doing with his life when it had been his favorite.
"OK, guys," Tyr said. "Before this night gets any more alcohol impaired, I have a few things I have to straighten out. First, you really are Ares the God of War?"
Ares posed with his arm flexed to show his biceps. Dylan was thankful he hadn't brought a sword.
"And you are Hercules, his brother."
"Half-brother," Harry injected. "We are both sons of Zeus, but he's a bastard." He smiled revealing not only his bicuspids but also his molars. Tyr tried his best to ignore him.
"And you my good friend, Mr. Hopewell. I've heard Herc here call you Iolaus, but I have absolutely no idea who he might be, although a leprechaun might be my first choice."
Both Dylan and Ares suddenly both wondered how much Tyr had had to drink. Dylan hadn't noticed that he was drinking at all, except for the white wine he had served with dinner. Evan, who they both knew had had a lot to drink, was ready to go one-on-one with the Nietzschean --bone spurs be damned. The two brothers each grabbed one of Evan's arms and pulled the smaller man off the ground, quietly moving him a few paces down the riverbank and dropped him on a log.
"I don't think anyone wants to fight, tonight, Iolaus. This is a Wayest retreat." Ares said. Dylan was amused at the God of War playing the role of the peacemaker.
Iolaus was not to be deterred. He was on his feet again and this time seemed to favor going after Ares. However, he didn't seem to want to fight. "Yea, this is a great place. Problem is it makes me horny as hell and no one here wants to fuck. I bet you want to fuck, don't you, Ares? That's what you keep telling me every time I tell you stop jerking off. Well we're not on Libra X any more, you can fuck my young ass anytime the mood strikes you." He fumbled with the button on the waistband of his shorts and started to pull them down his hips.
Ares took one look at his brother and smiled. Hercules took the other elbow and the two of them carried the smaller man to the edge of the river and deposited him in the rushing water.
"And I thought you had a lot to drink, Ares. I don't remember seeing him like this for a long time."
"He's had a lot on his mind lately," It was as if dumping Iolaus in the river had had a sobering effect on Ares.
"And by the way, Tyr," Dylan added, "you'd better thank us for pulling him off you. I wouldn't bet against Iolaus in a hand-to-hand fight."
"Can you just tell me something. Am I supposed to know who this Iolaus character is? I've never heard of him."
They would have a lot to discuss as they sat around the fire and watched it turn into embers.
* * * * * * *
Almost as if he were afraid of what would happen if the fire stopped blazing, Tyr would periodically travel to the woodpile near the house and return with another armload of logs. Iolaus had snuggled up to Hercules's outstretched legs and seemed to be more interested in twisting his friend's blonde leg hair than participating in the conversation -- before he fell asleep. Ares had removed his heavy leather tunic and was contemplating what the group would think if he removed his trousers and just sat there in his silk boxers. It was not that he wanted to be naked, leather just gets uncomfortable sometimes. Strangely, that was one scenario he had not considered when he had gotten dressed. He had also not considered that Tyr would spend the entire evening on the opposite side of the fire or be as interested as he was in the stories his brother was telling.
"You actually made a knife." Tyr commented.
"Yeh, Iolaus here," Herc patted the small man's blond head, "was a blacksmith, and a damn good one. We made all sorts of tools and weapons."
"Knives have little use to Nietzscheans except to cut meat."
"I've noticed you like really big guns, though." Dylan said.
"I have a certain fondness for them."
Ares just sat back and listened. The group was unaware of the approaching Rev. Bem until Ares smelled him.
"What in the hell is that?" He said as he jumped in the air from a sitting position.
"Relax, it's just Rev. Bem. He's a Magog." Dylan cautioned.
"I guess you just assumed when you met him on the Andromeda that the unpleasant odor came from the lutefisk," Tyr added with a smile.
"I'm just checking to see if you need anything," the Magog stated. "I'm turning in, the women are asleep and I've set the perimeter security so everyone please stay the night, but if you have to leave check with me first, or else I guarantee you will not be pleased with the police response. Feel free to go anywhere inside the property fences you wish though. There are many spots for private moments."
Dylan looked down at the sleeping Iolaus and was glad that he had not heard that statement. As far as he was concerned, tonight Iolaus would be better off believing that this place was as replete with security cameras as Seolfor X. Rev. Bem walked back toward the house.
"Do you want me to give you some privacy?" Dylan asked his two companions, out of respect mostly.
"No." Tyr answered quickly
"What for?" Ares added.
Tyr gathered up the dinner plates and re-stacked them in the basket. Dylan used the tablecloth to cover the sleeping Iolaus and then lay down, spoon style beside him holding his old friend in his arms. Ares folded up his top to use as a pillow and tried to find a comfortable place on the ground. Tyr sat, poked the fire, and stuck his hand into the pocket of his shorts quietly fingering the lube he had carried with him for the last seven months. He wondered about its shelf-life.
* * * * *
"Holy fucking shit what was that!" Tyr's first thought was that the drift had either been hit by a meteorite or bombed. The night sky had lit up with a bright white light that bathed the lawn from the house to the river almost to the extent of sunlight. Dylan awoke and rubbed his eyes, stunned by the light. He looked toward Tyr who was still sitting tending the fire.
"I believe we have been attacked, Captain Hunt." A low thunder rumbled in the distance. "Or else it is merely going to rain. We should wake our friends up and get inside."
Dylan realized what it was, sort of, and replied, "It's not going to rain, but I think they'd better be awake for this." He shook Iolaus while Tyr walked over and tried to awaken Ares.
The four of them turned their eyes toward the river and saw a tall gray-haired man in a white robe walking on the water.
"Jesus Christ," Tyr exclaimed.
"Malcolm?" Iolaus questioned.
"Dr. Seuss?"
Only Ares recognized him for who he was, but that was too unbelievable to say. Then he felt a peace descend that took the effect of the tequila and transformed it to a feeling closely approaching bliss. "Father?" He rose and walked toward the man who now stood at the edge of the water and laughing at the group assembled before him.
"He can't be your father, Ares. I killed your father." Dylan said.
"Oh, I'm sorry Hercules." Ares could still manage a sneer. "You mean I never told you. I know your memory is a little fucked up from that spell I put on you back in ancient Greece. You remember the one, Iolaus, and what you had to do to get me to agree to do it." He turned his back to his brother and talked to the smaller man.
"Don't ask him. Talk to me!" Dylan grabbed his larger brother by the bare shoulders and spun him around to face him. "I know what I had to do. I had to let you and my kingly half-brother both fuck me silly. Fuck-my-mind-out, so to speak. I had to then live the rest of my life not really sure who I am. But I know I killed my father, and your father Zeus."
"You didn't, I did. I know you wanted to, but those pillars were falling all around you. One of them must have hit you on the head. I grabbed the rib from you and stabbed father here. I WAS really angry with him because he wouldn't let me kill YOU. So I stabbed the bastard.
"But mostly I thought it would make a good statement to Xena of how much I loved her. Only thing is that you went babbling down the hill telling her that you killed Zeus. Who was she to believe? You who always told the truth, or Ares, who unfortunately never did?"
"Now, boys," the stranger spoke in a calm yet assertive voice. "Let's not argue about who killed me, because as you can see I am actually quite alive. Did either of you think those bones would kill me? I just needed to get out of Greece for a while let those other gods see what kind of job they could do without me, and as you know they fucked up royally. Glad to see the only ones left were my two favorites."
"I was a favorite?" Ares was trying to pull on his clothes and look a bit more godly.
"Actually, Herc, here was my favorite, but he was half mortal. He's taken a lot of work over the millennia, but he was worth it. Never really got the hang of this immortality thing, the way Iolaus did. Like someone messed up his mind. But look at how good he turned out, a High Guard Captain."
Ares flinched. He only had done to Hercules what Iolaus had asked him to do. He wondered if his father knew. He had to know. He was Zeus.
"He never realized that if you didn't age and didn't die, people would get suspicious. I'd have to kill him off and bring him back to life as a child all the time. Sometimes I would forget where I put him and have to hunt for him." The old man chuckled. "And he seems to have gotten himself lost for the past three hundred years or so. It’s really wonderful to see you again, Herc." He grabbed Dylan on the shoulder and pulled him close for a hug.
"This family reunion is most precious," Tyr snorted, "But I see no logical reason why I have been included. I am a Nietzschean. I am at a loss as to what produced what I can only presume to be a group hallucination. We all drank different things, in varying amounts, so it can't be that we are just all drunk. There might have been some strange herb in the blend I sprinkled on the meat for tonight's supper, or perhaps mushrooms growing on the logs we burned. Perhaps it is something else indigenous to this 'I know the way and it is divine' place, but I cannot believe that I am in the presence of Zeus."
"None of the above, Tyr Anasazi, I assure you that this is real." Zeus continued, "you are very central to why we are together tonight -- central in a peripheral way."
"Even the word of god becomes oxymoronic!" Tyr frowned. "Must be a hallucination."
"Iolaus here, or as I call him Evan Hopewell, and I have been working on a project back on Libra X. Yes, I'm a librarian, too. He has learned a lot; it is not often that a research project becomes one of self-discovery. He's going to tell you all about it, aren't you Iolaus?"
The small man shrugged. He didn't want to be the one to tell the story. Perhaps that was why he had drunk so much wine? He had tried to tell himself that the sweet red Greek wine just tasted good with rabbit, the way he used to eat and drink in his youth. He knew it wasn't the truth, his pallet had grown much more sophisticated and tonight he ate and drank more for nervous relief than pleasing his palate. Now he felt like he was going to throw up.
"But, I think he can wait to tell you what he has discovered until tomorrow. You're free to enjoy your night under the stars, by the fire." Zeus had sensed the reluctance on Iolaus's part. "I'm an old man, you know? So I will sleep in the Retreat House. But, I think most of you, including Iolaus, could do with sobering up a bit."
Iolaus paid no attention to Malcolm's comments as he staggered to the river's edge his stomach churning as much from emotion as from wine and bad food.
"I think my sons and Iolaus here will just get some sleep, but you, Tyr, seem unable to do so. So I will give you something to contemplate. You seemed fascinated by the fact that Iolaus and Herc used to make knives. Here's one for you." He pulled a small dagger out of his belt and tossed it to the Nietzschean who caught it in the air by the hilt.
"Good catch." Ares smiled. "The man has hands, too."
Tyr did not have time to look at the dagger or return the smirk of his former lover. The groups attention was stolen by the site of Beka Valentine clad only in a T-shirt running faster than anyone had ever seen her run.
"Dylan, we need to get a message back to the Andromeda. Joan D'Arc has gone into labor and there are complications. We need Trance here immediately."
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