A Missing Scene from the episode "Descent"; it follows the scene where Hercules, having defeated Dumuzi, calls on Iolaus in despair and starts to weep.
The first thing that Nebula became aware of was the silence. The braying trumpets and screaming voices that had tormented her ears for what seemed to be a lifetime were now completely, blessedly silent. For the moment that was enough. She lay, limp and exhausted, on the chilly hardness of the stone slab.
After a while she realized that the pain in her arm was no longer there. True, her wrists ached from being bound behind her back - she shifted uncomfortably - but the burning agony that had devoured her left arm was now vanished.
She opened her eyes. Memory flooded back as she struggled to a sitting position and looked around.
Dreary grey light fell from the hole in the roof above her, accompanied by the vine that Hercules had climbed down -
Hercules?
The room was empty, except for herself. At the far end, she could see a section of the heavy stone wall, swung inward.
Her legs almost gave beneath her as she slid off the altar stone. She leaned against it to rest for a breath or two, and caught sight of her dagger on the floor a short distance away.
It took only a moment for her to crawl across the dusty stones. The blade was sharp and the vines that bound her were dry, and her hands were soon free. The dagger returned to its accustomed sheath, but she knew the comfort that its presence gave her was a lie.
She tried to stand once more, this time successfully. Squaring her shoulders and taking a deep breath, she pushed aside the fear of what she would find, and went through the opening in the wall.
The room she entered was bitingly cold - a cold that entered her with the first breath she took and spread through her veins, to clutch at her heart.
Her footsteps echoed from the bleak stone walls. The room was empty. From an archway at the far side, a dull yellowish light met her as she crossed the room and tossed her shadow backwards.
A faint sound caught her ears.
She stopped dead, and listened hard, hearing only her heartbeat and the dying echo of her footsteps. The sound came again, loud enough for her to realize what it was, and the breath went out of her.
It was the terrible, racking sound of a grown man weeping.
Nebula abandoned her caution and hurled herself through the archway, to find a room of carven stone pillars, with the ruins of a hero huddled against the nearest one. His face was hidden in his hands and veiled by his matted brown hair, and his shoulders were shaking violently
"Hercules?"
The word left her lips before she knew she had spoken.
He did not raise his head.
She looked around. Other than the two of them, the room was empty.
Empty.
A pain shot through her, as though Gilgamesh's dagger had found its true target at last. She suddenly realized just how desperately she had been hoping that Hercules would succeed in his impossible, lunatic attempt to bring Iolaus back from the Underworld. For all her rational arguments and well-founded doubts, in her inmost heart there had remained a tiny grain of hope that the love and strength of the half-god would prove enough to cheat Death of his best friend ... and her lover.
The memory of the one night that she and Iolaus had spent together washed over her and threatened to drown her. She sagged against the archway for a moment, seeing only Iolaus' face, feeling the supple strength of his body against hers, the touch of his hands, his hunger for her and his gentleness, the sweet sounds he made at the moment when a man is at his most powerful and most vulnerable...
And now there was nothing. He was gone. She was powerless before that paralyzing fact. There was nothing she could do, nothing left for her to do... Her instinct was to weep and rage and kill things...
No, she was wrong. There was one thing more that she could do for Iolaus, though he would never know of it.
She struggled for breath, for control, for strength. There would be time enough to weep later, time enough to question whether she even wished to live. But for the moment, there was a final task before her - to take care of the strongest man in the world who lay on the indifferent stones, bleeding out his strength in utter despair.
Nebula pulled herself upright and wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. "Hercules" she said again, in a stronger voice, and was suprised that it did not quaver.
He did not move, and she dropped to her knees beside him. She put a firm hand on his shaking shoulders. "Hercules. We need to go. We need to get out of here".
At her touch he slowly raised his head. His face was swollen from weeping and foul with tears and snot. Blood oozed sullenly from a cut at the corner of his mouth, and a bruise showed blue beneath the dark hair of his unshaven jaw. His eyes were empty and unfocused.
She forced herself to be brisk. "Hercules. I'm going to take you home." Her arm went around his shoulders.
Gradually the bloodshot eyes focused on her. "Nebula?" came the uncertain whisper.
"Yes. Come on - we need to get out of here."
"Nebula ... I ... couldn't - "
"I know."
"He wasn't ..."
"I know."
"It should have been me!" The hoarse cry startled her for a fleeting second, but she recovered and pulled him against her. He did not resist, as she wrapped him firmly in her arms, his head resting against her breast. Only his shoulders began shaking again.
It was like embracing an earthquake, but she held him tightly. He was deathly silent now - only the tears, scalding against her skin, let her know that he was still living, still grieving. After a long, long time the quivering gradually began to lessen, until he lay heavy and motionless against her.
" We'll talk about all this later. We need to get out of here". She gave a gentle tug and was somewhat surprised when he allowed her to pull him to his feet, where he stood swaying. She pulled his arm across her shoulders and put her other arm around his waist to steady him.
As she urged him along towards the archway, he looked back into the darkness and stopped.
"Iolaus?" he called in a childlike voice scraped raw from weeping. The echoes gave back the name.
Nebula felt cold in the pit of her stomach and her eyes stinging but forced herself to speak calmly. "No, Hercules. He's not there. You have to come with me now".
Hercules made no further protest as they made their way to where the vine hung down from the outside world. She put the thick cable into his hands. "You'll have to climb it". For a heartbeat he looked at her in bewilderment, then looked upward and back at the thick vine in his hands. Finally he gave what might have been a nod and began to haul himself up.
She waited until he had reached the top before swiftly following him up into the purplish light of late sunset. As she pulled herself over the rim of the hole and rolled, panting, onto the damp grass that surrounded it, she saw that he was just sitting there, huddled into himself, staring blankly off into space.
This was not good, Nebula told herself.
"Come on," she said briskly. She hauled him to his feet. He made no effort to resist her, but walked passively along in her wake as she led him away from the mouth of the Underworld. But he did not speak, and he moved as though blind, stumbling over things like a man completely detached from his surroundings.
In the dying light, she led him back down to the bank of the great river, where - to her tremendous relief - she found one of the canoes still tethered and laden with supplies. Umara, her chancellor, must have ordered the rest of the crew to leave this for her, and she breathed a silent prayer of thanks to him.
Hercules was of no help at all. When they reached the riverbank, he slumped down at the base of a tree and curled into a motionless ball, eyes open, staring at nothing.
Nebula debated about demanding his help in making a fire, but decided against it. It took her only a short while to gather a good deal of firewood. Some long-ago storm had brought down several young trees nearby, and their wood was dry and well-seasoned. She dragged the trunk of one tree to the fireside. Once going, she could feed it into the fire as it burned away.
She got a blaze going and put some wine in a small pot on the fire. While it was heating, she pulled some blankets from the boat and brought them back to the campsite.
Hercules still had not moved, but he was shivering silently.
"Here, " she said to her silent companion. "You need to get warm." She draped one blanket over his shoulders and tucked it around him. There was no reaction from him, and she began to be increasingly worried.
She soaked a cloth in water and began to wipe the blood and foulness from his face. He never moved, just sat shaking and empty- eyed. Nor did he stir when she poured the heated wine into a wooden cup and held it out to him.
Nebula finally lost patience.
"Hercules!"
No response.
Louder. "Hercules!"
Still nothing but silence and shivering.
The crack of her palm against his cheek echoed through the forest.
Finally he stirred slightly and slowly looked up at her, where she stood over him. On his face were none of the ordinary reactions of a man who has just been slapped, no surprise or anger. There was nothing on his face at all except the red imprint of her hand.
Nebula shoved the cup of warmed wine into his face. "Drink it!" she snarled.
The same bewildered look was in his eyes as they painfully focused on her face and then moved to the cup. He took it in a shaking hand and brought it to his lips. She watched closely as he took a swallow, then another. It seemed to cost him great effort.
"Keep going!" she ordered him, as she tore off a hunk of barley bread and slapped a strip of dried meat into it. Under her fierce gaze he emptied the cup completely.
She immediately twitched the cup from his hand and stuffed the bread and meat into his grasp. "Now eat!" she growled softly. "You've had nothing for at least two days, by my count!"
"I'm ... not hungry."
Finally! Nebula wanted to weep with relief. He had spoken.
"Yes, you are. You just don't know that you are. I know better! Eat!"
The clouded gaze fixed on her. Again with visible effort, he began to eat. She kept an eye on him as she poured herself a cup of the warmed wine and tossed it off. It burned all the way down into her belly, but she could feel it giving warmth and strength, and knew it would be doing the same for Hercules.
The food and the wine had brought some trace of color back into the half-god's ashen face and he was no longer shivering. All to the good, thought Nebula to herself. She finished off her own bread and meat in a ravenous gulp and dusted the crumbs from her hands.
It was a moment's work to build the fire up to where she could feel its heat a manlength away. She spread out a blanket next to it and announced to Hercules, "Now, you are going to sleep".
He shook his head. "No. I can't."
At least he was talking now.
"You. Are. Exhausted." she told him between clenched teeth.
Another shake of his head. "No. If I sleep ... I'll dream - " he broke off.
"I'll wake you if you do."
"No."
Her temper gave way again. "Dammit, will you stop fighting me?!" she roared. "Get this straight! You are going to eat! You are going to sleep! And you are going to LIVE! Not because of me, but because Iolaus would want you to!"
The mention of the name did what nothing else had been able to. Suddenly Hercules was THERE again - energy flooding his slumped body, his eyes alive once more, and full of anger and hate and grief.
"Don't you get it?!" he roared back at her. "I don't WANT to live for him! He's dead, because of me! Arrows, spears, knives - I've caught them all before! But I didn't catch this one! It should have been ME!" The last word was a shriek torn from a bleeding throat and suddenly there were tears on his face again.
"No! It should have been ME!" Nebula's voice was equally raw. "And what's more, you wish it had been!"
For several thundering heartbeats he just stared at her, before whispering hoarsely, "Yes!"
Abruptly they were both on their feet, facing each other across the fire that had blazed up and glittered in their locked gazes.
"Don't you think I know that?" asked Nebula in a low, tense voice. "And do you really think I blame you for it?!"
He slumped back down into a sitting position, and was silent again for a long time before answering "Yes".
"I don't believe you. Only a fool would believe that - and Iolaus was not the comrade of a fool." She gave what passed for a laugh. "Actually we agree. I wish it had been me! And I wish it had been you! I wish it had been anyone - ANYONE! - else in the world! But it wasn't! IT WASN'T! And there's not a damned thing you or I can do about it!" She felt the hot track of tears on her own face.
"No," he said in a voice suddenly dull and dead as the ashes that fell from the log on their campfire. "No. I tried. There's nothing anyone can do. It's over. Everything is over..."
She watched as the fire within him died. Hercules' gaze was becoming unfocused once again, and she knew that he was on the brink of collapsing from utter exhaustion, whether he realized it or not.
"All right then," she said. "You don't want to sleep? You take the first watch, then. Wake me, when you feel like sleeping".
She did not wait for an answer, but rolled herself in a blanket on the opposite side of the fire. From beneath a fold of the blanket over her face, she watched him. It did not take long at all.
Hercules' eyes began to grow heavy. Twice, he shook his head and resumed his staring into the fire. The third time, they fell shut and did not open, and after several heartbeats, his head leaned back and came to rest against the trunk of the tree he was sitting under. His breathing grew slow and regular.
From across the flames, Nebula nodded in grim satisfaction. When she was certain that he was truly asleep she crept over and tucked the blanket more securely around him. Then she made herself as comfortable as she could against the same broad tree-trunk and settled in to watch over him as he slept.
In spite of the fears that he had spoken of, Hercules slept motionless and silent for the entire night. Nebula would wake now and then, to shove another section of log into the fire. They were unmolested by men or beasts - few of either dared to prowl the forest around the Mouth of the Underworld.
Nebula woke when a beam of reddish sunlight struck her across the eyes. She shifted irritably and then froze when she saw that Hercules was missing, his blankets tossed aside. She leaped to her feet in panic, only to sag weakly against the tree in relief as he appeared out of the bushes, buttoning his pants.
She noted, also with relief, that he was moving once again with his customary strength and assurance.
"Good morning!" she said. He looked up and met her eyes - and her relief vanished like mist in the sunlight.
His eyes were dead. It was not the pain-ridden, helpless gaze from the day before, or the fury that had blazed forth when they were screaming at one another. There was no emotion at all in the clear blue eyes that met hers.
"Good morning".
His voice was dead too.
"How are you feeling?" She silently cursed her voice for wavering.
He did not notice. "I'm fine. Thank you for taking care of me."
"You're welcome. Do you feel up to heading back?"
"Yes. There's nothing to stay for."
Hercules said nothing else as they swiftly gathered up the blankets and supplies, and buried their fire. If Nebula were to judge only by the energetic way he packed their canoe and shoved them off into the current of the river, she would have said he was completely himself again. But then she would see his eyes ...
He guided them expertly back down the river. They were moving with the current, and thus did not need to paddle except to correct course now and then.
"We'll be back in your city in two days."
The voice came abruptly from the back of the canoe. Nebula turned to face him. "And what then?" she asked."What will you do?"
"I don't know." The words dropped like stones into the water. Like stones - heavy and lifeless.
"Hercules, I know you hate me, but - "
"No." He cut her off. "I don't hate you." It was a statement of fact.
"Then what DO you feel?" she demanded.
"Nothing. There's nothing left. Not hate, not anger, not grief. Nothing."
The emotionless tone was more frightening to her than any murderous rage would have been.
"You say that now, but you're going to feel differently later. This will lie on your soul until - "
He cut her off once again. "Nebula. I have no soul. My soul lies dead, wrapped in fine linen in a temple in Sumeria". He picked up his paddle and headed them further out into the river. "We'll be there in two days". His face was as white and set and blank of eye as a statue guarding a tomb.
He would live now, reflected Nebula. But what for? Iolaus, my beloved - forgive me. I did the best I could.
She turned with a weary sigh, to head into a future that seemed to her as bleak and murky as the thick fog that shrouded the river before them.
Some images, characters and other things used in these works are the property of others, including but not limited to Renaissance Pictures and Universal Studios. Everything else remains the property of the artist or author. No money will be made on anything appearing on this webpage and no copyright infringement is intended. This site was created by fans for the enjoyment of other fans.
For information on reprinting text and/or artwork (including privately owned photos, photo manipulations, and other images) from this website, please contact IolausianLibrarians , who will assist you in contacting the original creator of the piece. Do NOT reprint, republish, or in any way link to items on these pages without obtaining permission from either the original creator of the piece or the webpage owner. A written one-time use statement may be issued to you at the discretion of the artist or the author. Please respect the legal and artistic rights of our contributors.