But now that this was a full-fledged war, Ares knew he had to be there. This time, though, he faced a different challenge than before. Before, he would have encouraged more fighting, letting it spread beyond the soldiers and making it more violent as he a absorbed the energy it created.

Before, he wasn't trying to see if he could still be God of War without that.

The war had to be fought, and he still absorbed much energy, but he could do it without hatred...he thought.

The key was honor. Not honor as he'd thought it...of not running away, of challenging as many as possible, of defeating all around. Honor as Joxer had taught him.

Ares stood behind a Spartan soldier who propped up his injured Athenian opponent and left him with a skin of water before he found another skirmish.

Elsewhere, he knew that wounded were being treated and guarded and that non-combatants were safe for a change.

The odd part was that the fighting was just as fierce and just as satisfying as in any other battle he'd witnessed, even if the death count was lower. Indeed, because honor required men to fight only those who could take them, the fighting was *better*.

Where was Joxer? He'd been busy with this coming war, so he hadn't been able to see or talk with him for days.

And he missed those talks more than he'd ever thought he'd miss anything.

He'd gone down to that campsite the next morning, hoping to talk to the man, but he was gone. The only things left were various broken branches and, rolled into a little ball, the fur and wool cloak.

He was about to blast the garment in anger. But, no. He was not going to be hurt because his gift was rejected...not yet. He picked it up. It hadn't been fully rejected...Joxer had slept in it. It smelled like him.

He held it to his nose again. Then he sent it to his bedroom. One day, he'd give it back to Joxer. That day hadn't come yet.

He watched the man from a distance for a couple more days. He had to stand back and let Joxer trip over his own feet and flail around with a sword, and take too much from his companions. Ares also watched him quietly give away half his food - food he needed badly himself - and whatever money he came across. He fell out of a tree trying to rescue a little girl's kitten while the kitten itself looked perfectly happy where it was.

Finally, he could stand it no more. He had to at least talk to Joxer. At this point, it would have been enough if the man stopped cringing in Ares' presence. That was enough to twist his guts up in a knot.

He had chosen his night carefully. Joxer was wandering by himself for a change, so he'd built himself a fire. There was a hint of moon in the sky, but not enough to drown out the stars.

He waited until Joxer finished his dinner - a rabbit he'd trapped and some roots he'd grubbed because he'd given everything else away - before becoming visible.

"Why did you throw away the cloak?"

Joxer jumped. "What are you doing here?"

This was not going well.

Ares thought and then squatted by the fire. Even though he didn't feel the cold as such, it was pleasant. "I'm just curious, Joxer. You...make me curious."

"About what?" Joxer moved a little further away, and his eyes kept shifting back and forth.

"Just...you. I'm not going to hurt you. I promise."

Joxer peered at him through the smoke. "You promise? Why should I believe you?"

"I don't know. I've given you no reason to believe me or trust me. I just...hope you will."

He edged closer, the fire dancing in his warm eyes. "And if I do trust you...what then?"

Ares shrugged. "We talk."

"Talk?"

"Just talk."

"What about?" Joxer was still wary.

"You, maybe. You gave away all your food today."

"You were watching me?" He sounded almost angry, and very confused.

Ares thought about his answer. He could tell him he'd deduced it from the poor dinner Joxer had made. "Yes. I've been watching you."

"Why...why me? What did I do wrong?" Joxer's eyes were wide.

Taking a chance, Ares slowly moved around the fire and touched Joxer's arm. It was cold and he was shivering again.

He looked at Ares' hand with confusion, as if no one had ever touched him with gentleness before.

A wave of emotion nearly overwhelmed Ares - pain, anger, frustration, love - but with great effort he held it in check, and just continued to stroke Joxer's arm. "You did nothing wrong. I'm following you because...there are things about humans I need to understand."

"Why me?"

"Why not you? You're as human as anyone else. More than some."

"I'm not wise or brave or talented. I'm...I'm just a buffoon who has tolerant friends."

Ares wanted nothing more than to wrap Joxer in his arms and let him know he was safe and warm and valued. He tried to channel all those feelings into the hand on his arm. "You are more than that. Joxer, tell me why you gave away all your food today?"

Joxer bit his lip and shrugged. "That family was hungry, and there was no work or money to be had. I had plenty, and I knew I could find more here. I don't need much anyway."

"So, you gave it all to some vagabonds? Strangers you met once and will never see again?"

"Maybe I will. Maybe someday I'll need the help, and that little boy will be there to give it. Or, maybe all they needed was another day to get on their feet and then they will help someone else. But I couldn't eat if I knew they were hungry. Who could?" Joxer sounded confused at the thought of someone not caring.

"You were the only one who helped."

Again, Joxer shrugged. "Maybe I was the only one who could."

"But you're hungry now. And they aren't."

"They probably are. It wasn't really enough for a family."

"That's not your fault, Joxer. And, if you eat now, it's not going to make them less hungry."

"I ate." He indicated the remains of his meal.

"Well, *I'm* hungry." Ares wasn't, but he had to do something. He magicked up a simple meal instead of the feast he really wanted to create - bread and meat and cheese with a pitcher of beer. And, as he continued to ask Joxer questions, it sat there. Joxer looked at it now and again, but he refused to touch it, and...and Ares couldn't eat a bite knowing Joxer was hungry.

"Why won't you touch this?"

"It's...yours. It's not real. Ares, do you know why that family was homeless?"

Ares shook his head.

"Their village was overrun during a battle. A battle between two cities who had been ignoring each other. An army marched through, took everything they owned and torched the entire place. He's a blacksmith, but none of his tools survived. You made them homeless, Ares."

Ares sat back on his heels, unable to take his eyes away from Joxer's.

"This happens. I...the soldiers have free will. If their commanders are bad or have no control or even lead them on this destruction...I cannot take responsibility."

"Who started that war? They'd been ignoring each other, the blacksmith said."

Ares thought back. "No. They hadn't been. It had all been diplomatic and quiet until someone hurled an insult. I had no part in that, no more than usual."

Joxer nodded. "Could you have stopped it?"

Ares wanted to shout that it wasn't his job, but didn't. He thought. "No. It couldn't have been predicted."

"Hmmm." Joxer seemed to consider his words. "Is that possible? You're God of War. Surely you have a hand in all the wars you fight?"

"No, any more than Aphrodite has a hand in all the people who fall in love. She does for some, of course, just as I *have* instigated battles. You've seen that yourself."

"The sporting event."

Ares nodded. "Sometimes it's necessary, so I have the power. And it can be so much *fun* to use."

"But you don't do it all the time?" Joxer seemed to be looking for something.

"No. Even the God of War has to control himself. I don't start wars, I don't finish them. I...support those who pray to me and...I need to be there." He never actually thought about his role in battle before, other than how he could make it more fun for himself. To his shock, he said as much to Joxer.

"Maybe you should." Joxer moved closer to the fire. He absently picked up some bread and meat and began to chew.

"Maybe." Ares kept his smile to himself, but just seeing Joxer eat his gift was more than he'd expected.

"So...if I hadn't interrupted, who do you think would have won?"

Joxer smiled around his food and began to describe the event enthusiastically. Ares barely listened to the words. He was too absorbed in watching Joxer's eyes brighten in the glow of the firelight. The sliver of moon was high before Joxer finally wound down to find his bedroll.

"Sorry, Ares. I can't stay awake any longer."

"Sleep, then. I'll...keep watch."

"You?"

Ares shrugged. "Who better?"

"I suppose. You don't have to. I'll be fine."

"It's not a bother. Just sleep."

To Ares' surprise, Joxer smiled and nodded. He crawled between his blankets, spread his worn cloak on top of them and soon drifted off.

For a moment, he wondered how amusing the other god found this - that he was happy because a mortal had let him stand guard for a night. Then he decided it didn't matter - the fact remained that he was happy, and that was something to savor all by itself.

And Joxer was beautiful as he slept. His face became peaceful - he looked no older than Padraig. All the silliness, the buffoonery was gone, leaving only the sweetness and a touch of intelligence that all that had hidden.

Maybe if he tried, Ares could have resisted, but he didn't bother. He moved over to Joxer, as silently as only a god could, and gently kissed his cheek. Joxer didn't even stir, to Ares' mixed relief and disappointment.

He settled back to watch, using his powers to keep the fire burning until the sun rose. He wanted to be there when Joxer awoke.

*************

Ares was grateful he didn't have to worry about Joxer now as he continued to stroll across the battle field. He'd seen him only a few days ago, on the other side of the country. He missed him, of course, but it was better than worry. Over the past two months, Ares and Joxer had had more of those talks - sometimes at night, sometimes in a sunny clearing, once after Joxer had spent a day helping to clean up after a fire had ravaged a village.

Ares still shook his head at that one. He had found himself helping along side of everyone else, using his hands instead of magic. No one, not even Joxer, knew who he was, but he couldn't just watch. And that night, Joxer was so dirty and tired that he accepted a hot bath out where no one could see him, while Ares sat by the side of the tub and they talked some more.

To Ares' delight, Joxer had been getting more comfortable with him. They were sitting closer together in their talks, and one night the man leaned against him, too exhausted after trying to keep up with Xena and Gabrielle to sit up by himself. Even the night of the bath, though, Joxer had modestly kept his body hidden. Ares wanted to see it, wanted Joxer to know it was nothing to be ashamed of, but, and it took more will power than he knew he had, he resisted.

There were other signs...Joxer was visibly upset when Ares was gone more than a couple of days without explanation, so he made it his business as well as his pleasure to not let much time pass. And he accepted more of what Ares' offered - still not that cloak or anything of value, but Joxer no longer went hungry, and he even allowed Ares to try to teach him to use his sword better.

There, Ares would have despaired, except that it gave him more opportunities to touch him. He still would have stopped if he'd had any sense that Joxer thought he was better than he was, and would endanger himself needlessly. Mortals lived such a brief t time - he wanted Joxer as long as he could have him. It was difficult to tell him that he'd be busy the next few days, that a war was brewing and he *had* to be there at all times. To his surprise, Joxer didn't argue with him.

"Those two are always at it, aren't they?"

Ares nodded. "Nothing can stop them."

"You have to be there?" Joxer sounded forlorn.

He felt that way himself. "I do. And I have to stay there until it's over. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too. I'll miss you." Joxer smiled.

Ares could only nod.

Then, to his surprise, Ares felt a pair of wiry arms surround him. Something relaxed deep inside of him as he wrapped his own around Joxer and held on. "I know it's silly to worry about you...but you'll take care of yourself, right?"

No one had ever done that before. "I will, Joxer. If you keep yourself warm and eat properly."

Joxer's eyes widened and he nodded. Then, as if he were taking a great chance, he laid his head on Ares' chest. Ares sighed and, taking his own risk, touched his head with his lips. Reluctantly, he let go then and, with one final glance, took off for Sparta.

Even now, he could feel the warmth of Joxer's arms around him and smell the wood smoke in his hair. It carried him through the lonely nights.

He brought his mind back to the battlefield. The day was drawing to a close, and what skirmishes were still going were winding down. The dead were being gathered up and sorted by nation and unit. A day or so ago, several mercenary companies had joined the fight on both sides. Ares had never been certain about those, but this time he'd watched them fight.

Some might as well have been fighting for their own cities, and others were at least professional - not taking foolish risks, but giving their best. And others...they fought the way he thought wars should be fought.

And it had no purpose. It didn't advance the battle for either side or change the odds. All it did was ensure bloody weapons and bloody grounds.

And they offered their victims to him, which sickened him.

There were no more swords clashing. The sun was starting to set so fighting had to cease. He wandered near where they were sorting the dead. All of these men had prayed to him, and to the god or goddess of their city, to strengthen their arms and given them victory.

And that wasn't enough - brave young men and cynical older ones were lying on the ground while priests took charge. He noticed that while most were sorted one by one, lying a pace apart from the others, there were some who were placed in pairs. These were Thebans or the like, who had fought and died with their shieldmates. They were lucky.

He'd seen Thebans who'd survived their shieldmates. They wandered like the lost souls they were until someone struck them down or the battle ended and they were taken home, some to find another and others to just waste away.

He tried to imagine Joxer lying there, lifeless and empty after a battle, all his sweetness and beauty drained away. His mind wouldn't let him.

He forced himself to complete his new nightly ritual...looking at the faces of all the men and those few women who had died during that day's battle and committing them to memory. He might not have killed them, but they had prayed to him.

He moved closer to the paired ones. As he did, he caught a flash of red curls. He felt his heart freeze in his chest. There couldn't be that many redheads fighting with the Thebans.

He forced himself to approach the shieldmates. There was a cloth over their faces, but that hair was unmistakable. He could still remember how it smelled, how it felt against his cheeks. He moved the cloth. That face laughed even in death, with those freckles stark against the pale skin. The green eyes, which had once danced with sheer joy at living, stared blankly at the man by his side.

That man was smaller and darker, with battle scars on his face and arms, and his eyes were closed. He was no one Ares recognized, but somehow he knew this was the shieldmate Padraig had wanted, that they had indeed become lovers.

His vision blurred as he touched both bodies, seeking some trace of who and what they had been. There wasn't much, but he could feel the strength of their love and the happiness they'd had in such a brief time. And he could feel Padraig's sheer joy in fighting - fighting honorably - and the other man...Panocus...his joy in Padraig and his pain when his lover had been cut down next to him - and his relief when he was mortally injured moments later.

What good were his blessings?

Taking a deep breath, he gently closed Padraig's eyes and covered both his and Panocus' with copper coins.

As he did so, something broke inside of him and he cried - deep, wracking sobs that hurt his throat and tears that burned his eyes as they flowed. He'd known Padraig one night, but his laughter and delight in everything, his joyful abandon; all of these things were part of him, and the world felt barren.

"Ares? Are you there? Are you all right?"

Joxer's voice. What was *he* doing there? Ares made himself visible, tears and all.

"H-how?" He couldn't make him say more.

"I can *feel* you now. And I could hear you cry, sort of. Did you know him?"

Ares nodded. He took a couple of deep breaths. "I knew the...the redhead. He...he was the last person I...I made love with. Before he met...he met his shieldmate."

Joxer dropped down next to him and wrapped his arms around him. Ares turned to him blindly and buried his head on Joxer's chest. Long moments passed while the God of War sobbed his grief. Joxer quietly stroked his hair and let him finish.

Finally, Ares pulled himself together and sat back so he could look at Joxer. "Not the way I'm supposed to be."

"He meant something to you. He looked...the *last* person?"

Ares nodded, smiling a little at Joxer's bemusement. "Yeah. That was the first night I ever came to you - just before I came to you."

Joxer sat back, never letting go of him. "And since then...? Why?"

"Because...because the only person I wanted to make love with was you, and I wasn't willing to settle for any one else." Ares, his vision now clear, looked right into those warm eyes.

"Me? But...I'm a clown, not a warrior."

Ares shook his head. "You aren't a warrior, but you aren't a clown, and I would gladly kill the first person who called you that. You are the bravest, *best* man I've ever met and I love you, even if you can't stand me."

"Can't stand you? No. I was scared of you...but it's been so different...that's why I'm here. I had to be where you were. It...hurt to be someplace else. I don't know how I dare say this to you, but you said it first. I love you, Ares. Not as a god , but as a man."

"I wish I were a man so I could prove I was worthy of you, Joxer."

Joxer shook his head. "Then you wouldn't be Ares." With that, he pulled Ares closer, until their lips met.

At first, Ares' world was those lips - soft and gentle and then insistent and passionate - but he pulled them apart. "Not here, my love. Not when they cannot." He indicated the Theban pair.

Joxer nodded once. "Where ever you want to take me. Wait, though." Joxer knelt beside the bodies, and covered their faces once more. He touched each forehead in silent prayer, and then stood.

Ares reached out a hand and Joxer pulled him to his feet. He took Joxer's hand and together they looked at the remained faces. Then, with one motion, Ares transferred them to his home on Olympus. He led Joxer to his bed chamber, where the couch was spread with silks and velvets, and one wool and fur cape. Joxer looked at him, remembering.

"It's yours. It was something I could use to keep you close." Ares spoke quietly. Joxer nodded, his eyes wide. Then he reached out his hand.

Ares took it and drew him closer to the couch. Then Joxer was in his arms again and they were kissing passionately. Ares thought about making their clothes go away, but thought better of it when he felt Joxer's hands remove his vest. They broke apart long enough to slowly strip the other down. When he was finally naked, Joxer made a move to cover himself with the cloak.

Ares stopped him. "Don't."

"But...I'm..." Joxer looked down at his pale body.

"You're you. And therefore beautiful. Please, don't hide."

Joxer lowered his head and blushed. "Not like you. You're perfect."

"It doesn't count. Come..."

He looked at the bed. Joxer smiled and joined him there, and all modesty was forgotten as they explored each other with hands and tongues and lips. Joxer filled Ares' senses with his humanity and his mind with a brave and pure soul, one that left him not just cleansed but joyous.

And as they held each other, Ares heard and felt Joxer weep.

He touched a tear. "Why?"

"All my life, I've wanted to touch someone, anyone, like this, to be held like this. That it's you, that *you* want me...I can't hold it, I can't believe it."

"You've never made love?"

Joxer shook his head.

"Not even with women?"

"No. None would have me."

"Fools. All of them." Ares had to control the brief flash of anger. "I want you. But...not if you..."

"No...I want you...it hurts how much. Please...show me how."

Ares nodded and began to kiss Joxer again. He let his hands roam over his body, until he felt Joxer's penis, hard and dripping, and began to stroke it gently. Joxer moaned.

Ares smiled. He kissed and sucked both nipples until his lover writhed with his touch, and then gently turned Joxer to his side, to part his lovely buttocks and reach between. Joxer tensed and then sighed. Ares reached for a vial of oil and coated his fingers. He carefully prepared him, stretching him as gently and thoroughly as he could. There would be no pain if he could help it - never any pain. Finally, when he felt Joxer was ready, Ares coated himself with more oil and carefully slid inside, moving in and out of the man until, with a joint sigh, Ares was fully sheathed. They moved together in a sweet rhythm utterly unlike anything Ares had ever felt before. He reached in front to grasp Joxer again.

They'd joined more than bodies. He could feel all of Joxer's pleasure and somehow, he knew Joxer could feel his, and they fed back upon each other and it grew.

And when release finally came, Ares could do nothing more than weep as he held his lover, his love, close in his arms.

****************************************************************

Epilogue: 50 years later

Ares carefully lied down beside his lover in the bed Joxer so rarely left these days, and stroked his hands.

"Feeling a little better?"

Joxer's voice was a quavery remnant of his earlier strong tones. "Now that you're here. Tell me, how is the world?"

"Quiet. You need me more. I wish..."

"No. Don't." Joxer reached a papery skinned hand to touch Ares' firm face. Ares nodded. Joxer had refused immortality and godhood, and Ares knew he was right. Instead, he'd lived a long life as he'd chosen, happy and useful and, finally, beloved instead of ridiculed. All Ares had been permitted to do was love him.

And right now, that was all that was left to do. "I'm going to miss you."

"Shh, you'll just make yourself sad. I want to see you smile."

Ares thought of the years they'd had...too brief, but so joyful, and he did smile as he gathered his lover into his arms as gently as he could. "I'll never forget you, brave one. Braver now than ever."

Joxer just smiled, and slipped away.

Ares held him for just a little longer, tears running down his face. Then he closed those eyes and placed two copper coins on them.

The End

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