Out in the hallway, two warlords, covered in blood from their most recent battle, carefully dropped low to the ground and crept backwards out of the temple door. They could wait for another time to report on the war they had just fought in.

The men, who were responsible for at least 100 deaths between them that day, didn’t look at each other as they ran…uh, scurried…no…left the courtyard. They knew better than to mess with the God of Mischief…he was crazy.

“BOO!”

Both warriors…screamed like little children and ran to their horses. They didn’t look back and didn’t stop to pick up their swords that they had dropped in their fright.

Their men, who weren’t stupid either, didn’t comment on the suspicious stain on the front of their uniforms or the hasty, uhm, retreat from Ares’ temple.

Strife giggled as he made himself visible.

With a wave of his hands, the swords flew up from the ground. The right hand of war looked them over critically. “Not bad. At this rate I’ll be able ta outfit a whole army by tha end ah tha month.”

Strife laughed quietly. This time no one and nothing was scared. “That’ll keep em from bothahin Unc right now.”

A flash brightened the room for a minute.

“Hades.”

The God of the Underworld looked up and frowned.

“Yes?” He asked impatiently.

“Can I talk ta ya fah a minute?”

Hades sighed. “As you can see…” He waved a black clad arm around the crowded room. “…I’m kind of busy right now.”

Strife fidgeted in the darkened doorway. Hades peered at him, narrowing his eyes as he tried to see who he was talking to. “Who is it, anyway?”

The young god stepped forward. “It’s me, Strife.”

A scuffling in one corner distracted Strife for a few seconds. He didn’t see Hades’ normally forbidding countenance, lighten at the sight of him. What he did see made his eyebrows raise.

“Blalack?!” He smirked at the inept and whiny warlord. “I just saw ya at Unc’s place a few hours ago. How did ya get yarself killed sa fast?”

Hades snorted and looked contemptuously at the men crowding his room. “He was supposed to flood a battlefield…right?”

“Yeah.”

Strife eyed the warlord in question nervously. ‘What if I gave him tha wrong instructions. Unc’ll be sa disappointed.’

“Well…the idiot dammed the wrong side.”

Mouth hanging open, Strife turned to look at the dead warlord. “Tha wrong side?” Blalack looked embarrassed, his men looked really ticked off. And rightly so, considering they were now dead because of him.

“Yep. He and his men all drowned in the backwash.” Hades shook his shook his head. Strife goggled at them, amazed at the sheer stupidity of the dead man.

“But, I doubt you are here about them.”

“Uh,” He turned back to Hades and shook his head, trying to clear it. “No, I need ta ask ya fah a favah.”

“Of course.” With a wave of his hand, the shades occupying his office vanished.

Strife started to speak and then stopped, again in amazement. He figured that it would take a lot of begging and frankly, boot licking, to even get Hades to listen to him.

“Oh. Okay. It’s about some people I’ve seen.”

“Fine. Are they dead or alive?”

“Both. But, uh, they’re in anothah country and about 1,500 years in tha futuah.”

Hades sat up at that. “And they would have anything to do with me…how?”

Strife leaned one narrow hip against Hades’ desk. “Well, ya see. It all started when Unc said somethin not taa smart ta Joxah…”

“No, nonononono, please…I’ll be good.”

Strife turned around at the first no and hurried over to the bed. “Joxah. Wake up now, ya’re safe.”

Brown eyes flickered open. He peered around the room, looking for the men who hurt him.

“I’m tha only one heah, Joxah.”

“St-Strife?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” Strife waved a hand and the room brightened. “See, we’re alone.”

Joxer relaxed onto the bed and closed his eyes with a sigh.

“Are ya hungry?”

Strife brushed some hair out of his friend’s eyes and smiled. Joxer gazed back. The young immortal thought for a moment. “Yeah, I think I am.”

“Good. Come here and let me help ya.” Slender hands slid under a skinny back and lifted. Joxer moaned in pain. “I’m sorry.”

“I know. You’re really gentle though.” Joxer blinked away the tears in his eyes and gifted his friend with a small smile. He looked around the room again and frowned. “Where’s Ares?” He asked fearfully.

Waving a hand, Strife rearranged the pillows into a cushiony pile and leaned the injured Joxer back. “He’s gone ta talk ta anothah god. He’ll be back real quick.” Strife grinned. “I had ta close up tha temple, that’s tha only way Unc would agree ta be away fah a few hours.”

Joxer blushed, happy at the evidence of Ares’ love.

Strife grinned at the blush. He brushed the hair out of Joxer’s eyes, when the young immortal couldn’t make his arms rise up enough to do so. The young god did it matter of factly and so Joxer wasn’t too embarrassed by the weakness in his damaged body.

“We’ll go slow at first. Ya don’t need ta be eatin anythin but soft foods fah a while yet.”

With a flick of his wrist, a tray appeared, along with a table for it to rest on.

“Okay.” Strife cracked his fingers and made a great show of placing a napkin on Joxer’s lap. “I’ll give ya a hand with eatin…okay?”

Joxer ducked his head and nodded slowly. He knew there was no way he could hold a cup, let alone a spoon.

“How about some mead first?”

It took a little maneuvering, since this was the first time Strife had ever fed anyone, but there were only one or two mishaps before Joxer got something to drink. By the time he did, Strife was giggling uncontrollably and even Joxer was smiling.

“Heah ya go.”

Strife held up part of a roll for Joxer to bite into. The young immortal blanched at the sight. Strife looked at his friend’s trembling lips and dropped the bread back onto the tray.

“Is that what they fed ya?” He asked quietly, using the napkin to wipe away the tears.

“Y-yes. I…it was moldy and nasty and after the second morning I couldn’t even hold it to eat the stuff. There was this poor, young woman who…helped…me…oh Gods!”

“Joxah?” Strife was worried about the look on his best friend’s face.

“She’s still there! I left here there! All of them, I left them. Nononono, I’ve got to do something…”

“Joxah, calm down…” Strife tried to soothe the young man.

“No! You don’t understand, what they did to me was nothing compared to what they’re *still* doing to all those innocent people.” Joxer’s voice got higher and higher as he began to panic.

“NO, they ain’t.”

Strife’s strident voice captured Joxer’s attention. “What?”

“They aren’t hurtin anybody, anymore.”

Strife eased Joxer back against the pillows and made him take a drink. When the young immortal was a little calmer, he continued.

“Tha Torturers, Questioners and Guards are all still frozen. They can’t hurt anybody. Besides that, tha prisoners are all gone from tha castle.”

Joxer gasped, his eyes wide. “Gone? Where are they?”

“Heah.” Strife grinned as Joxer began looking around. “No, I mean heah in Greece…wheah they belong.”

Frowning in confusion, Joxer closed his eyes tiredly. “I don’t understand.”

“Tha god that kidnapped ya.” Joxer shivered. “Apparently, he’s responsible fah most ah that people that were sent ta tha Inquisition.”

Seeing Joxer’s frown, he explained. “That’s what they called tha questionin that they did, an inquisition. It was just an excuse ta torment people, in my opinion.”

Ducking his head so that Strife wouldn’t see the tears in his eyes, Joxer nodded. “Yeah, I think so too.”

“Uhm…” Strife cursed himself inside when he realized that he had upset Joxer again. “Anyway, this God, Lo-Ra is his name, used tha Inquisition ta punish people that made him mad or opposed him or just plain turned down his advances.”

“People were being tortured to death because they didn’t want to have sex with him? Gods…I can’t imagine such a thing.

“Yeah.” Unfortunately Strife could.

“But it’s ovah now. He’s been caught and Unc’s workin out his punishment right now with some ah tha Egyptian gods.”

“Good…but all those people.”

Strife smiled at his friend. “I’ve got somethin ta show ya.”

The young god magicked up a scrying mirror. He turned around and scooted up in the bed so that he was sitting beside his best friend.

On the mirror, the silver reflection of Strife and Joxer wavered for a moment and then cleared. On the surface a young woman could be seen. Her long black hair was pulled back with several beautifully ornate combs. She was smiling and laughing as she served a round of drinks to some warriors. The men weren’t as grabby as usual, due in part to the large man at the end of the bar who was watching over her so protectively.

“Who is that?” Joxer asked quietly.

“That’s Cassia.” At Joxer’s uncomprehending look he added. “She’s tha young woman that helped ya ta eat.”

Joxer looked at the woman in astonishment. She was no longer starved and emaciated. The haunted look was gone from her expressive dark eyes.

The young immortal looked over at Strife hopefully. His eyes were wide with mingled hope and fear. Fear that what he thought Strife was saying would all be in his imagination.

“Tha people who he had hurt are all healed now. It took some doin, but Ace and Apollo were able ta fix everybody. They don’t remembah their ordeal or bein kidnapped or anythin. Ta them it’s like nothin evah happened.”

Strife carefully put an arm around Joxer’s shoulder and hugged him. The young immortal watched the happy young woman and cried. Strife wiped his friend’s face.

“Theah’s somebody else I want ya ta see.”

With a wave of his hand the image clouded up and then cleared again. This time there was a young man standing there. He was outside, positioned in front of an artist’s platform with a brush in his hand.

The man in question tilted his head from side to side and gestured to someone just out of sight. After a moment, another man appeared. He was taller than the artist and slender where the other man was softly rounded. The two men laughed and gently kissed one another.

Joxer watched the tender scene for a little bit and then looked at Strife questioningly. “That’s Jabben.” Strife answered the unasked question.

The immortal sucked in a surprised breath. He looked back at the image and tried to see the tortured young man in it. It was hard to see. Jabben’s hands weren’t bent and twisted now. He was just like Joxer had imagined, a little rounded.

“Tha dead were given a new chance at life. Like the othahs, they don’t remembah all they went through.” Strife gestured to the young man who was pretending to be mad. The other man looked sorrowful and Jabben laughed at his antics.

“That’s his lovah, Antonious. He was tortured taa.”

Strife cleared the image and the mirror returned to its normal self. “Everybody gets a new chance.”

Joxer leaned against his friend and cried and cried. It was as if a dam had broken and all the fear that he had been holding inside burst forth. Strife gladly comforted his best friend, holding him as tightly as he dared.

“Thank you.” Joxer’s voice was muffled from where his face was buried in Strife’s bony shoulder. “I know this was your idea.”

Strife smiled. “Ya’re welcome.”