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~ One Two Oh ~

by A.C. Henley

2008

Warning: Lesbians, sex, and angry bulls.

This was my entry to the Academy of Bards Challenge #19, it had to be written within the rules of the challenge. There was a list of possible personal ads to choose from and the story had to be written around the ad. The ad I chose is represented in the bold type at the beginning of the story.

Enjoy.

It was obviously a joke by one of the remaining ranch hands, and as soon as Rose found out which of the five had placed the ad she was going to personally and literally kick his ass off the 120 Mile Ranch. She stared down at the paper with the red-circled personal ad and read it once again.

Wanted:

Cowgirl to teach riding, roping and wrangling.

Branding experience a plus.

Contact Rose Grant, personally, at the 120mi Ranch.

Rose tossed the paper down on the kitchen table and got up to get herself another cup of coffee. She looked out the kitchen window, she had already been up for hours milking cows, feeding chickens, gassing up trucks and tractors and feeding the workhorses. The sky was just now beginning to lighten in the east as the sun made its way up, bringing another day to the ranch. She sighed and walked back to the table where the Grant's Pass Daily News laid folded. Rose picked up the paper again and tapped it against the Formica tabletop. The kitchen's door opened and in walked Champ Broody, her Ranch foreman "Have you seen this?" She asked tossing the paper at Champ.

Champ fumbled with the paper then held it out at arms length so he could focus on the small writing. "Old man Finch is looking for a tractor, his '53 Ferguson must have finally crapped out." He said barely holding the chuckle that threatened to bubble up as his eyes raked over the circled ad that was the obvious cause of Rose's mood.

Rose growled as she stood and reached across the table jerking the paper from Champ's hands, "To hell with Ricky Finch and his Ferguson! I want to know who placed this ad!" She roughly tapped the middle of the red circle causing the paper to tear slightly.

Champ gently took the paper back and once again extended his arm as he took in a deep breath, "Ah. Well it certainly seems like a personal ad, doesn't it? Did you get to drinking and called up the paper in one of those reflective 'I don't want to be alone on a desolate Wyoming ranch forever' moments?" Champ asked with a fatherly tone and raised eyebrow.

"I did not!" Rose said defensively and grabbed the paper back. She wadded up the six- page report on the local coming and goings and threw it in the trash bin next to the refrigerator. "I don't need anyone for anything other than to help me run this ranch, and I'm about to be another hand short as soon as I find out who placed that ad!" She stomped out of the kitchen and down the hall where she entered the office and slammed the door.

Champ walked to the coffee pot and poured himself a half a cup of the dark brew that Rose was so fond of, and then he went to the fridge and filled the rest of the cup with milk. He sat down at the table and smiled to himself. It was going to be quite the week at the One Two Oh.

He remembered the day about six months back when Rose showed up. He had called the girl to inform her that her father had passed away. The old man, Forrest Grant, had gone quietly on a summer night, one year to the day of his wife Vera's passing. Rose had come back for her mother's funeral and had been so ill treated by her father that she had vowed to not return until she had to put the old man in the grave. What Rose hadn't expected was to inherit the seventy-seven thousand acre ranch. After the first three months of trying to manage the historic range of cattle, sheep, and horses she had confided in Champ that she was sure it was her father's ultimate punishment for not being what he wanted in his only child. He looked over at the trash bin and smiled, one of the boys had gotten up to some mischief, he made a mental note to tell 'em to lay low for a week or two.

Rose sat behind the huge oak desk that was her father's long time command center. In the six months that she had been back at the ranch she had hardly changed a thing in the office. There was a part of her that was still the fourteen-year-old girl who was terrified of Forrest Grant. That girl would never move a thing that belonged to her over-bearing father.

Rose turned the big leather chair around to face the window. The sky was turning from black to blue and the sun had just peeked up over the edge of the Cottonwood Valley. She wondered to herself if she was doing the right thing, trying to run the huge ranch that had been in her family for four generations. She had left the day after she had turned fourteen; her father caught her kissing Charlotte 'Critter' Johnson behind the stables. Forrest Grant had been disappointed in his daughter since the day she was born, and had held it against the girl her entire life for not being the son he had so desperately wanted to carry on his name. Rose was a midlife baby, born to parents in their early forties, a joy to her mother and a curse to her father.

He had found her with her hands under Critter's shirt and her lips locked tight to the slightly older girl's mouth. He had chased her back to the house, swinging his belt at her the entire way, landing several good licks before her mother had stepped between them and put an end to the beating. But not even her mother could stop her father from putting his daughter out of the house. Forrest Grant had made it clear that he would have no queers under his roof and that he was sure that Rose would find the fires of hell to be more accommodating than his house.

Rose walked toward town that summer evening making it several miles before her mother had intercepted her. Vera Grant took Rose to the Grant's Pass bus station, and there she put her daughter on a bus to Connecticut, where she would stay with Vera's sister Louise.

Rose remembered her mother's wet cheeks and teary eyes as she put her on the bus. Her mother promised to smooth things over with her father and that she would soon be welcomed back on the ranch. Rose spent the next six years with her aunt, waiting for the call to come home. She finally gave up and entered university where she studied international business, she graduated magna cum laude and had sent the invitations to her mother and father to attend her graduation. The invitation came back stamped Return to Sender. Rose didn't make it back to the ranch until her mother had died. Her father had refused to let Rose set foot on his property and had publicly berated her at the graveside service. Rose left Wyoming even more despondent than when she had arrived. When the call came that her father had died she was ashamed to feel relief rather than grief. What was even more surprising was the fact that her father had willed the entire ranch to her. Now she wondered if Forrest Grant was laughing at her from his grave high on Saw Tooth Bluff.

A light knock came to the office door, "Yeah?" She asked softly as Champ's gray head poked in.

"You ready to get at it?" Champ asked.

"I suppose." Rose stood and grabbed her hat and coat from the old metal hat rack on her way out of the office.

"Come on then, lets go play cowboy!" Champ draped his long arm over Rose's shoulder, "I know you've had a rough time of it, Rose, but I know you're going to be a great rancher some day, greater than your father."

"I appreciate your loyalty, Champ, but if things don't turn around soon I'm afraid I'm going to have to sell." Rose said with a sigh. "We're twenty hands short. I don't know how we're going to manage to move the herd to Merry Gulch, and then there's the bulls who all need a check up before wintering and breeding, I just don't know how six of us are going to pull it off." They exited the big house and crossed the wide plank porch and down the steps to come to a stand still on the gravel drive that spread between the house and one of seventeen corrals. "What the hell is going on?" Rose asked as she took in the several worn pickup trucks and horse trailers that were parked along the corral fence. There were some horses saddled up with their riders standing by them, reins in hand. Only one thing bound the scene together and that was the blatant fact that all the people gathered in front of her were women. "I'm gonna kill the asshole who placed that ad." Rose said in a low hiss.

Champ scratched his chin as he took in the dozen and a half women waiting in the gray morning light. "This could be a blessing." His eyes scanned the women and landed on a short blonde sitting on the corral's fence, her black Stetson held in one hand as the other ruffled through her short locks trying to brush out the inevitable hat head. "Well I'll be a goat's daddy." He said softly.

"How could every lesbian in a five hundred mile radius showing up on my door step be a blessing?" Rose said turning back to the house and stomping up onto the porch, "I'm going back to bed."

Champ caught her by the arm, "You're the one who just said that we were down by twenty hands, and here on the door step is about exactly what we need."

Rose rolled her eyes and glanced at the waiting women, "The ad wasn't for a job, Champ." She blushed as she recalled the reason the women were waiting.

Champ chuckled, "Well who knows, maybe your Princess Charming is among them, but in the mean time we could sure use the help. I know a few of those gals, and they're good workers."

"So you want me to do what? Offer them all jobs and have them chasing me all over seventy-seven thousand acres?" Rose asked in a whisper. "I'm not looking for a relationship, Champ, I'm perfectly happy living single without drama."

Champ held his tongue, but he and the boys had another thought on that matter. "We could at least offer the jobs. We'll bring the bulls in for their check up, that'll weed out the posers."

Rose considered her options. More than half the ranch staff had walked off when she took over, unwilling to work for a woman, not to even mention a lesbian. Her own ranching skills were limited to what her father would allow her to learn and that education had ended abruptly when she was fourteen. In the last month she had become a better horsewoman, but she certainly was not at a caliber that she wished. The extra hands would mean an easier time for everyone. "Okay." She nodded to herself as she made the decision and strode to the edge of the porch where she let loose a loud whistle to get the gathered group's attention. "Listen up!"

Eighteen expectant faces turned toward her and several of the women closed in on the porch. Rose pushed her white hat back on her head and took a deep breath. "I know you all came out here expecting to have a shot at something laid out in that ad, and I'm here to tell you that it was a joke played on me by some of my hands." There was a long disappointed groan from the crowd which oddly made Rose feel fuzzy knowing that some of the women were truly let down. She held up her hands to quiet the group down, "Okay, having said that, it has been pointed out to me that some of you might like to apply for a position as a hand here on the One Two Oh. I'm offering good pay for a good days work, room and board included." Rose reached back behind her and dragged Champ forward by the front of his shirt, "Mr. Broody is my lead man and he'll be happy to take all your information." She pushed the older man toward the now excited crowd and then made her way to the stable.

Charlotte Johnson watched Rose talk from her perch on top of the corral fence. She had been slightly surprised by the turnout the ad had caused and was expecting to have to fight a few of the women for a good opportunity at Rose Grant, the most eligible lesbian in all of Wyoming. She inwardly groaned when she heard that Rose had not placed the ad but quickly brightened at the prospect to work on the famous One Two Oh. She wouldn't have a problem telling her current employer to go to hell in order to take a position as a ranch hand for Rose.

She slid from the fence and pushed through the crowd to come to a stop in front of old Champ Broody. She smiled crookedly as the man looked her up and down. "I can start tomorrow."

Champ pretended to consider the information but eventually broke into a wide grin as he reached his hand out, "I'd be honored to work beside Dale Johnson's kid. We'll hammer out the details tomorrow. Be ready to ride when you get here."

Charlotte shook Champ's hand with a nod of understanding. She looked at the retreating form of Rose and even though she wanted to chase after the woman she decided it was better to wait, she wasn't sure how she would be received. Tomorrow would be soon enough to find out.

The next day came way too quick for Rose. Already more than half the women who had gathered the day before for a chance at her had accepted employment on the ranch and were settled into the bunkhouses. It was just before dawn and there was a lot of activity happening outside the big ranch house as cowboys and now cowgirls were getting ready to round up the bulls, each of which would be getting a complete check up for the winter. It would prove to be a difficult day at best and would send the weak of heart packing immediately.

This would be the first time Rose would be participating completely in the event, her father had never permitted her to even get close to the pens when she was a kid, it wasn't 'women's work'. She stood in front the old oval mirror in her bedroom. She had on one of her worn blue denim work shirts, blue jeans, and black leather shotgun chaps. Her black hair was braided in a single braid down her back and tied off on the top and bottom to keep it secured. She pulled on her sheepskin lined denim jacket and grabbed her hat on the way out of her bedroom. Champ met her at the bottom of the stairs.

"Ready to get dirty?"

Rose swallowed hard, "As ready as I'll ever be." They exited the house together but Rose soon found herself alone as Champ went quickly down the steps and up to a short blonde woman standing beside a handsome black stallion who seemed much too large a horse for the small woman.

"That little joke kind of backfired, huh?"

Rose looked to her left where the last of the original ranch hands stood looking very contrite. "I don't know about that, we needed some help on the ranch, and you guys certainly helped bring it here."

"Yeah, a bunch of dykes." One of them muttered.

Rose straightened to her full height as she pulled her leather gloves from her back pocket, "Whom exactly did you think you were going to get with that ad, a bunch of twenty-something boys?"

"We didn't think you'd hire the lot!" Another protested.

"That was not my idea, you have your fearless leader to thank for that." She pulled her gloves on. "Now as I understand it, we have quite the day ahead of us. I hope a bunch of girls don't show you all up." She stepped off the porch and strode to where Champ was chatting with the blonde. As she got closer something started to seem familiar about the woman and as she slowed and came to a stop it hit her like an avalanche. "Critter?"

Charlotte smiled up at Rose, "Yeah, hi Rose." She said quietly, barely able to stay still as her toes curled in her boots. She hadn't realized she would be so nervous meeting Rose again after such a long time.

Rose was speechless. She was torn between being elated and angry. She settled on angry and turned and walked to her horse that was saddled and waiting for her. She easily pulled herself up and rode toward the bullpens.

"Well that went brilliantly." Charlotte said sadly.

"I don't know what's wrong with that girl." Champ said under his breath then looked at the distraught woman beside him. "I don't know what burr is under her saddle, Critter."

"It's alright, she's got a right to be mad." Charlotte placed her hat on her head and pulled herself up onto the back of her horse. "Come on old man, we have some bulls to wrangle."

Rose made it to the pens ahead of the group. She took the time to prepare herself to come face to face with Critter Johnson once again. She tried to figure out exactly why she was so angry. "She could have found out where I went and tried to contact me, but nothing? not even a peep!" Rose could hear the clop of horses approaching and looked up at the lightening sky, "Why me? Why now?" She asked no one in particular but was answered by Champ's gruff voice next to her.

"Cause its time to put the past away, that girl did you no harm." Champ said looking over his shoulder at the quickly approaching bunch of riders.

Rose's shoulders slumped, "I don't want to talk about this now. Just get me through today, will you?" She asked Champ.

Champ nodded and rode away from her to give orders.

Rose fell in along with the rest of the hands to listen to Champ's directions and plans for the day. Some of the activities sounded down right nasty to her, but she'd decided months prior that if she was going to run the ranch she would be a hands-on owner, it was the only way to be sure things were done right.

By midday, she was thoroughly exhausted and disgusted. Not to mention sore from using muscles that had been long dormant. She had inspected, squeezed, patted, picked, prodded, and been stepped on by several bulls in a day's time.

She was leaning against one of the pen's many fences when all hell broke lose as a massive bull jumped the chutes shorter fence and started charging every thing in sight. The ranch hands were scattered everywhere in a panic, and Rose soon found herself looking straight into the dark eyes of one angry bull who had a bone to pick with every two legged thing in his sight. She could hear Champ's voice calling out commands to her, but the roar of her heartbeat in her ears muffled everything. She tried to climb up the fence behind her but her foot slipped and she landed with a thump on her rear on the cold Wyoming prairie. Her sudden yelp must have been the last thing the bull wanted to hear because he snorted twice and charged directly at her. Rose regained her footing and reached for the top bar of the fence, the ground shook under her feet as the bull got closer, she pulled with all her might to get her sore body up and over the fence. She let out another yelp as she found herself in a strong grip being hauled up and over the metal fence just before the bull slammed into it, sending herself and her rescuer flying off the top and onto the ground.

"Are you alright?"

Rose looked to her left where Critter sat rubbing her left upper arm. She took a quick inventory of herself, "I seem to be fine." She answered a little short and cringed at the sound of her own voice. She suddenly felt like an ass. "Sorry. Thanks for pulling me out of that." She nodded to where the angry bull was still strutting and head butting the fence. "Are you okay?"

Critter stood gingerly still rubbing her arm, "Nothing so wrong that some aspirin and hot bath won't fix. She walked over to Rose and extended her good arm down.

Rose sighed and took hold of Critter's hand and let herself be helped up. Champ and about half a dozen of the ranch hands ran over to them, their excited chatter gave her time to settle her rapidly beating heart.

"Damn it, Rose! I told you no daydreaming around these big boys." Champ said as he turned her to and fro looking for injuries, "You're lucky Critter was close by."

"Sorry." Rose said, as the truth of the moment and what could have happened came flooding into her mind.

Champ tsked and clapped her on the shoulder softly, "Well the good news is he was the last one." He looked around at the men and women who had gathered, "You all did a good job today, as far as I'm concerned everyone is hired on, but don't expect this to get any easier, if you don't think you can handle it there's no shame in saying so." He looked around the loose circle and smiled as they all met his stare with confident steady gazes of their own. "Alright then, let's get these big guys down to winter pasture." He chuckled at the combined whooped of the ranch hands but quickly scowled at Rose and Critter who were limping away toward their horses. "Hold it right there Butch and Sundance."

Rose moaned as Champ used her and Critter's old nicknames from their younger days. She stopped her forward motion and turned around to level a hard glare at her lead man.

"Oh save the bullshit stare for these youngsters, the two of you are going back to the house. There are plenty of us to get these bulls to pasture. I want you to have Cook give you both the once over." He nodded as if to finalize his command and then turned away making his way back to his own horse.

Rose turned and looked at Critter, "I guess we've been dismissed."

Critter shrugged, "Fine with me, I'm so done with this shit today that I'll be a March hare." She turned and finished the short walk to her horse. He seemed extra tall at the moment and she had to psych herself up to get the will to pull herself up into the saddle.

"You could've gotten yourself a shorter horse." Rose said settling in her own saddle with a soft groan as her muscles began to stiffen.

"And give up speed?" Critter smiled rakishly as she nudged the stallion with her boot heels and took off at a quick gallop across the prairie.

Rose nudged her paint mare after the stallion and had almost caught up with the black beast when Critter urged the stallion at a full out gallop that left Rose and her mare in a cloud of dust. Rose pouted and let her horse slow to a meandering walk the rest of the way to the stables. She settled into her saddle as best as she could and enjoyed the ride home. She could see Critter walking her stallion along the corral fence, cooling the animal off before stabling him for the night. Rose walked her mare into the stable and slid off onto the ground. It was starting to get colder and the sun had started to set behind the ridge to the west causing a sharp shadow to fall over the main compound.

Rose pulled the saddle from the mare's back and placed it on her tack rack, the bridle soon fallowed along with the tight woven saddle pad. She guided the horse into her stall and began the process of brushing down and settling her horse.

"What's her name?"

Rose looked over the mare's back at Critter who was just now taking the saddle off the tall stallion. "I haven't named her yet." She admitted with a shrug.

"How long has she had you for?" Critter asked as she guided her own horse into the stall next to where Rose was working.

Rose chuckled at Critter's phrasing of the question, "She's had me for about four months."

"Then it's getting on time the two of you were formally introduced." Critter whispered something into her stallion's ear before leaving the stall to come around the wall that separated the two stalls. She gently ran her hand up the side of the mare, looking up just for an instant as she came to the mare's back and winked at Rose before running her hand up the mare's neck to give a gentle scratch behind a pointed ear.

All Rose could think of was how lucky her horse was to have Critter's hands rubbing along her flesh. She blushed and looked down at her hands that held two brushes that were grooming gentle arcs in the horse's hair. She chanced a glance up at Critter who was talking to the mare who seemingly bobbed her head up and down at something Critter had asked.

"Well, I guess it's up to me to introduce you two then." Critter said with a broad smile as the mare pressed its nose into Critter's chest. "Rose, this here's Maxine."

Rose raised a single dark eyebrow at Critter, "Maxine?"

"Yep, and she prefers Maxine, so if you will please refrain from calling her Max, she would be most appreciative." Critter said with a wide smile.

"I'll remember that." Rose said as she moved her brushing up to the mare's neck, "Glad to meet you, Maxine. Sorry for the delay in introductions." Maxine's head bounced up and down and she whinnied showing her clean white teeth. "My apologies."

Critter smiled and nodded satisfied that she had accomplished her task of uniting rider and horse on more than a human and beast of burden relationship. She quietly walked back to the stall where her horse Loki waited patiently for his pampering. She was meticulous whiles brushing and cleaning the big stallion's coat from the tip of his nose to the bottom of his hooves. She heard Rose close Maxine's stall and looked up to see Rose leaning against the stall's wall where she was finishing up Loki's brush down.

"I'm sorry about this morning, I just never imagined running into you again, and then all I could think about was that you didn't try to contact me all those years ago, what happened?" Rose asked softly. It had taken a great deal of fortitude to ask the question.

Critter draped a quilted blanket over Loki's back and secured it. "I didn't have time to ask your mom where you went since your father fired my mom and dad almost as soon as you walked off the ranch. We ended up in Montana and just two months after that my folks were killed transporting some horses to Texas."

Rose felt her heart hammer hard in her chest, no wonder Critter hadn't tried to pursue her. "Gosh, I'm sorry Charlotte."

Critter shrugged, "Nothing to be sorry about, you didn't run em off the road."

Rose could have countered that she was the cause they were on the road to begin with but was grateful that Critter seemed unwilling to place that blame on her. "Still, it answers a lot of questions about why my letters came back undeliverable." She started to put pieces together in her head of those events. "My father was an asshole."

Critter cocked her head to the side as she waited for Rose to exit the stall so she could close the gate, "You won't get an argument out of me on that." She swung the wood gate closed and latched it. "I guess we should get Cook's once over before Champ gets back here."

They both walked limply to the kitchen where the elderly cook, Mrs. Maple, gave them the once over and berated their foolish antics unbefitting of two young ladies and sent Rose upstairs to get cleaned up and Critter back to her bunk house to do the same. She issued a final warning that supper was served at six, and whether or not they were present really didn't matter to her. When Critter asked if that was an invitation to supper with Rose at the main house the matronly woman had simply repeated 'Six O'clock.'

Critter went back to the bunkhouse, where she grabbed a quick shower and put on clean clothes. As she was getting ready to go, some of her comrades started questioning her. Critter explained that she was simply going to have dinner with Rose and nothing more. She found herself surrounded by a dozen or so cowhands eagerly listening as she told them her and Rose's story. By the end of the telling there wasn't a dry eye in the bunkhouse and they all wished her good luck as they walked her out the door and pushed her in the direction of the main house.

Rose stripped and sank into a hot tub, groaning as the water wrapped heat around her abused body. "What the hell am I thinking?" She asked the ceiling as she let her head rest against the edge of the old claw foot tub. "I'm going to kill myself playing cowgirl." Her eyes drifted shut as the water soothed away her pain. It only seemed like seconds had passed when a rapid knock came to the bathroom door and Mrs. Maple's commanding voice announced "Supper in five minutes."

Rose then noticed the tepid temperature of the bath water and realized that she must have fallen asleep. She hauled herself out of the tub, pulling the plug on her way up. She groaned as she made the first few steps to reach her towel, and dried herself and quickly dressed, but even with rushing she was the last seated at the small table in the kitchen. "Sorry," she said softly as she sat down gingerly.

"You've held everyone up." Mrs. Maple grumbled, "Lucky for you this wonderful young woman wouldn't start without you." The cook grabbed Rose's plate from in front of her and started filling it with food.

Rose looked across the table at Critter, "thanks for waiting."

"It's your house and your food, I just figured we could wait for you since you make it possible." Critter smiled.

Mrs. Maple scoffed, "You'd still be waiting to eat if she was in charge of cooking it!"

Rose blushed, "She's right, I'm only good at cooking breakfast." Rose said as she accepted her plate back from Mrs. Maple and gave the plate of roast and vegetables an appreciative sniff.

"So at least you'll never starve." Critter said handing her plate to Mrs. Maple.

"She needs to find a nice girl who can cook for her." Mrs. Maple said handing the plate back to Critter full of steaming pot roast. "Now she has many to choose from right here on the ranch."

Rose blushed again. When she'd arrived to take over the ranch, she had been expecting to face a staff full of bigots like her father, but soon found a very friendly and accepting group of people, that's to say those who remained of the ranch's staff after all the haters packed up and left. "Perhaps I can have you interview perspective suitors, Mrs. Maple."

The cook let out a sharp laugh, and then said, "I'd do a fine job of it, you would get the best of the lot for sure."

Critter frowned at her plate, she wondered if she would even be in the running as possible mate for the ranch owner.

"How about I start with this one here." Mrs. Maple said pointing her fork at Critter.

Rose shifted in her chair as she took a bit of roast off her fork and chewed it. She wondered if Critter would allow Mrs. Maple to question her.

Critter shrugged and speared a few pieces of carrot onto her fork, "I've got nothing to hide, but I want to make it clear, I didn't come here for a job. I thought I was answering a personal ad and I was disappointed that it wasn't legit."

Rose didn't know what to say. She hadn't even considered trying to find a girlfriend in the wilds of Wyoming, but now that she was literally surrounded by available lesbians and she couldn't think of any reason not to have someone to share her life with.

"Well then, should I proceed?" Mrs. Maple asked Rose with a twinkle in her brown eyes.

Rose swallowed the bite of food in her mouth and took a drink of her water before speaking. "It's fine with me." She tried not to be too excited to hear what Critter had to say, so she went back to her food.

"Very well then." Mrs. Maple took a couple bites of food, as she thought about her line of questioning. She finally set her fork down on the side of her plate and excused herself from the table for a moment.

"Are you sure you want to subject yourself to this?" Rose asked Critter.

Critter brought her green eyes up to look into Rose's clear blue eyes, "I came here to see if maybe we had a chance at something Rose, so if I need to get past Mrs. Maple to have that chance then I'll answer a million questions."

Rose's mouth hung half open. She was grateful that Mrs. Maple chose that moment to return to the table with pen and paper tablet in hand.

"Sorry, I just wanted to be able to keep track of the pros and cons." Mrs. Maple took two bites of roast and drank a bit of her coffee. "Now then." She looked at Critter, "Do you have any savings?"

"Holy cow, Mrs. Maple, what kind of question is that?" Rose asked shocked. There were just some things not asked in polite company.

Mrs. Maple waved Rose off and looked expectantly at Critter.

Critter blushed and dipped her head, "It's okay Rose, and it's a good question. I have about forty-one thousand in savings, I know it should be more at this point in life, but its been hard lately keeping work with all the big family owned places selling out to corporate machines."

Mrs. Maple placed her hand over Critter's and patted it, "Isn't that the truth, dear. I was worried that this one over here" she pointed at Rose, "wasn't going to take over this place and I would be out of job. I've been here for thirty-seven years, I wouldn't even know where to begin again."

"I would have taken care of you, Mrs. Maple. We're like family." Rose said seriously, she had thought about selling the ranch, but something deep inside her knew it would have been devastating, not just to the people who worked the ranch, but it felt like selling off a bit of her soul.

"You're a good girl, Rose Grant. Your father was a fool." Mrs. Maple said before turning back to Critter. "That's a respectable amount of money, Charlotte. Your folks would be proud." She scribbled a few notes on her note pad then looked back up at her interviewee. "What are your long term plans?"

Critter looked across the table at Rose, "I'd like to settle down, have a home and a family."

"Ooh, that's a good answer." Mrs. Maple made some more notes. "Now, what is your idea of a romantic evening?"

Critter still held Rose's gaze, "Quiet time, walks, just sitting. I like simple things."

"So do I." Rose said softly. She felt a pleasant buzz travel up her spine at the thought of spending some time with Critter.

"You stay quiet over there." Mrs. Maple admonished Rose with a level glare.

"Sorry." Rose said but she couldn't help the small smile that appeared as she looked at Critter.

Mrs. Maple smiled also. She knew she didn't need to look further than Charlotte Johnson, but it wasn't going to stop her from asking a few more questions. "Charlotte, are you a good girl?"

Critter looked at Mrs. Maple, "I'm not sure what you mean?"

"I mean, are you a good girl, have you practiced unsafe?"

"Mrs. Maple!" Rose shouted with a slap of her hand to the tabletop.

Critter was a bright red.

"Now calm down." Mrs. Maple urged Rose, "You need to know if your perspective mate is at risk of giving you some nasty disease."

Critter cleared her throat, "Although I am not a virgin, I can say that I've never partook in risky sexual behavior. I'd be happy to get a blood test."

"That's an excellent idea." Mrs. Maple said with a toothy smile, "Rose should get one also, that way we're all above board. Don't you agree, Rose?"

Rose could only sit in stunned silence. Somewhere the evening had gone terribly wrong. She stood up from the table mumbled her excuses and walked out the kitchen door, grabbing her jacket on the way.

"Oh dear." Mrs. Maple said suddenly worried her bit of fun had gone too far.

"It's okay, Mrs. Maple, I'll go check on her." Critter wiped her mouth on her napkin and left the table, following after Rose through the back door. She had to break into a light jog to catch up with Rose, whose longer legs carried her along much more quickly than Critter's. She caught up with Rose just as she reached the corner of the stable. "Slow down will you, sheesh your legs were always longer than mine."

Rose slowed and then came to a stop resting her back against the stable's exterior wall. "I'm sorry she did that, Critter."

"She didn't mean any harm, it was a fair question of a possible suitor."

"Are you? I mean, after all this time can you still be interested in me?" Rose asked, her breath coming out in foggy wisps in the cold November air.

Critter scratched the back of her own neck and she looked at the surrounding area. "Do you know what happened the last time we were in this particular spot?" She took a few small steps forward getting very close to Rose. "I was against the stable like you are now, and your hands were?" She placed her hands on Rose's hips smiling as Rose took a shaky breath, "?well they were someplace a tad more intimate than this." She squeezed Rose's sides for emphasis, "And your beautiful lips were?" She found herself cut off as Rose demonstrated exactly where her lips were the last time they were alone.

Rose felt possessed as she spun Critter around and pressed her against the stable wall. She worked her hands up under Critter's shirt, moaning as she found the swell of Critter's breast. She broke the kiss and looked into Critter's half closed eyes. "I've dreamed of doing this for twelve years." She gently squeezed the soft flesh under her palms her cool skin warming against Critter's breast. She leaned forward again and pressed her lips softly against Critter's mouth.

Critter arched her back to press her breast more fully into Rose's hands as Rose's tongue danced across her lips sending luscious shivers down her spine to settle heavily between her legs. She opened her lips and accepted Rose's soft tongue into her mouth. She gathered Rose's shirt in her fist and pulled and pushed until she had one of Rose's thighs pressed against her sex. She let out a long moan into Rose's mouth as the taller woman pressed forward. She broke away from the kiss and clutched Rose close to her as a desperate rhythm developed between them.

Rose shifted slightly so she was against Critter's hip. Her forehead rested against the rough wood planking of the stable as their breath clouded the cold air. They hardly made a noise, no words were exchanged as first Critter stilled rigidly against her, holding her breath for a long moment while Rose continued her dance against Critter's hip for just a few more hard thrusts and let out a long breath as she found her release. Critter's breathing returned to her slowly as Rose backed away just a bit to look into Critter's eyes.

"That was unexpected." Critter whispered letting her head fall forward against Rose's chest.

Rose placed her hand on the back of Critter's head, her fingers played in the short blonde locks, "and unexpected is probably the best word. Are you okay?" She felt Critter's head nod against her, "We can't stand here all night." Rose said as the chill of the evening started to creep in around them.

"Can I? would you?" Critter found it hard to ask for the only thing she wanted since laying eyes on Rose the day before.

"Come on." Rose stepped away taking Critter's hand in her own, she wrapped her fingers around Critter's palm. "You'll stay with me tonight."

"What will Mrs. Maple say?" Critter asked wrapping her free hand around Rose's arm as they walked back to the main house.

"I don't care what she says." Rose smiled to herself as Critter's head fell against her shoulder. "She started it anyway." They quietly entered the house through the front door and made it up the stairs without incident and tipped- toed across the old wood floor, a floorboard squeaked under her left foot and she cringed, "Fuck me." This of course sent her partner in crime into a fit of giggles and Rose into a series of hushing noises as she tried to quiet Critter down. Then Mrs. Maple's voice came up the stairwell.

"Rose? Is that you?"

Rose stomped her feet and pumped her fist in the air as a stream of obscenities flew from her lips. She walked to the banister and looked over the edge down into the foyer and smiled a little too friendly at Mrs. Maple below. Critter continued her soft uncontrolled giggles. "Yes, Mrs. Maple, I'm just going to bed."

Mrs. Maple looked up at her with a distressed gaze, "I'm certainly sorry for?"

Rose waved her hand over the banister, "Don't worry about it, I was being silly." Rose nearly yelped and actually jumped a bit as Critter's hand caressed her backside. She regained her composure and quickly said her goodnight to Mrs. Maple, "I'll see you in the morning, and sleep well, Mrs. Maple."

"Good night to you too, Rose, I had one of the boys lay in some extra wood up there for you, it's suppose to be cold this evening. I wish you a peaceful night." Mrs. Maple said and then turned and disappeared out of sight.

Rose stepped away from the banister and pinned Critter with a serious glare. "You almost got us caught."

Critter smiled crookedly and said, "What would it have mattered, if you haven't noticed, we're adults."

A smile slowly crept onto Rose's lips, "Oh I noticed." She grabbed up Critter's hand and pulled her into her bedroom, shutting the door behind them and then pinning one feisty blonde cowgirl against it, "I very much want to explore this adult body you've grown into." Rose said as she leaned forward and kissed Critter's neck while she shucked off her coat.

Critter struggled out of her own coat, dropping it to the floor. She helped Rose free her arms from her jacket and then pushed Rose backwards to the bed where they landed with a squeak and squawk of old bed springs protesting the sudden weight. Critter broke into another fit of giggles, "Please tell me that Mrs. Maple lives in one of the other ranch houses."

Rose bounced up and down on the bed causing the springs to sing their song, "What would it matter? We're both adults." She said as she rolled Critter off to one side of her to land softly on the down mattress, the box springs sang out again.

"No wonder we never made out up here when we were kids." Critter's green eyes glowed softly in the warm light that the small fireplace produced.

Rose reached out and brushed some shaggy bangs away from Critter's face, "Can you imagine what my father would have done? He probably would have beaten me to a pulp for desecrating his house."

"I wish he would have been different." Critter said draping her arm over Rose's hip. "You didn't deserve any of the shit he put you through, and your mom?"

"She did the best she could, I don't blame her. He would have done more than whip me with that belt of his if she hadn't stepped between us that day." Rose said cuddling closer to Critter. "Let's not talk about that anymore. We're here now." She hooked her fingers in the waistband of Critter's jeans. "How about you get out of these clothes and I'll get you something more comfortable." She rolled off the bed and began pulling off her own clothes as she stumbled to the dresser. She tossed her shirt onto a nearby chair and pushed her jeans down her legs. She pulled her boots and jeans off one leg at a time as she pulled out the top dresser drawer. Rose rummaged around until she found two soft t-shirts. She hooked her toes of one foot in the top of a sock and pulled it down, and then repeated the operation on the other sock. She heard soft laughter come from behind her and spun around to scowl at Critter who was still lounging fully clothed on the bed. "And what may I ask do you find so funny?"

Critter let her laughter wind down and simply smiled at Rose, "If this is how you get undressed all the time, I want to secure front row seats for life."

Rose blushed and rolled her eyes, she turned back around and shucked off her bra, "Well I'm at least ready for bed." She pulled one of the t-shirts over her head and turned around once again and tossed the other t-shirt at Critter who snagged it out of the air.

Critter stood and walked toward Rose. She slowly unbuttoned her shirt as she approached. Critter's smile had turned from humorous to seductive as she opened her shirt to reveal a bare chest. She unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, letting them hang open and loose around her slim hips. She came to a stop in front of Rose and took one of her hands in her own. "I am no where near ready for bed." Critter said as she placed Rose's hand on her stomach then pushed it down into her open jeans, gasping as Rose pushed her palm against her, letting one finger to slip into her wet sex.

"Oh." Rose said softly as she felt the proof of Critter's arousal.

Critter's eyes drifted closed as she dropped her shirt from her shoulders. She felt Rose's other hand work to push her jeans off her hips, and they slid down her legs and pooled around her ankles.

Rose pulled her hand away from Critter's mound and pushed her back to the bed where she pulled Critter's boots, socks, and jeans off, creating a messy pile of clothes at the foot of the bed. She stood up straight and pulled her newly donned t-shirt over her head and pushed her panties off. Now she was as naked as Critter and was eager to feel her flesh against the blonde's. "Lay back." She commanded softly.

Critter did as asked and was plunged into bliss as Rose covered her with her long frame. "Christ in a hand basket." She exclaimed wrapping her arms around Rose's back.

Rose sighed as she settled against Critter. It was simply the most exquisite feeling she could remember, "Not to heavy?"

"No. Wonderfully perfect." Critter's right foot stroked up the side and then the back of Rose's calf. "I love your legs. They're so long and strong."

Rose smiled and slipped one of her thighs between Critter's legs. "You like 'em huh?"

Critter moaned, "I like your hands, too." Critter hinted as to what she desired.

Rose smiled as she shifted a little and brought her hand to where it had been just moments before. She hid her face against Critter's neck and placed a kiss there as her fingers gently parted Critter's folds and slid easily across slick flesh. "You're so wet."

"Inside, Rose, please? inside."

Rose complied and eased one long finger inside Critter.

"This is going to be another quick one." Critter said between gasps as she moved with Rose's ministrations.

"Let it come." Rose said softly before kissing Critter's slightly opened lips.

Critter shuttered and stiffened under her. "Oh gosh, Rose."

Rose smiled and kissed Critter softly. "You're beautiful when you come." She gently removed her hand from between Critter's soft folds.

Critter jumped as Rose brushed across her clit, "Easy."

Rose smiled, "Sorry."

"No you're not." Critter said with her own smile as she took a shaky deep breath and scrubbed her fingers through her hair. "I can't believe we finally got to do this!" She exclaimed before tumbling Rose off her and peppering every inch of flesh available to her with soft wet kisses. She gently reached between Rose's legs and let her fingers dance in the dark curls she found there. "I've dreamt of this for so long." She let her hand finally drift lower as she bent to take the nearest nipple into her mouth.

Rose moaned long as Critter's fingers finally slipped into her wetness. She clutched at Critter's back with one hand and tangled her fingers into Critter's short hair with the other. She pressed Critter's head closer to her breast and had to take in a sharp breath as Critter gently bit down on her nipple as she slipped inside her at the same time. Critter seemed to instinctively know what she wanted, which turned out to be a good thing as she seemed to have lost the ability to talk.

Rose kept her breathing as even as possible as she let the pleasure build, until she found herself shaking uncontrollably and falling over the edge, coming in a soft cry.

"I got you." Critter said gathering Rose close to her. "I'm not letting you go this time, ever."

"Better not." Rose said as she regained some of her composure. She cuddled up to Critter and felt warm and safe as she drifted off to sleep.

Mrs. Maple bustled about the kitchen at four am. She was trying to get breakfast ready for Rose before the woman set out for her morning chores. What she wasn't expecting was the two sets of footsteps coming down the stairs accompanied by two different giggles. Mrs. Maple's first thought was that she hadn't cooked enough breakfast for two, she was so accustomed to just cooking for Rose. She scrambled to retrieve more of everything from the refrigerator as Rose and critter stumbled into the kitchen in a fit of laughter that ended abruptly as they were caught in the steely gaze of Mrs. Maple, "You should give an old woman the courtesy of telling her you have a guest for breakfast."

Critter cringed at Mrs. Maple tone of voice, "I apologize, Mrs. Maple, we didn't mean to cause you any trouble." She said with what she hoped was a conciliatory smile.

"You don't need to apologize, Charlotte." Mrs. Maple said with a wave of her hand and then looked directly at Rose, "It's this one here's fault."

"I'm sorry Mrs. Maple. I'll do better next time." Rose said with her head bowed.

"I should think so. Now sit your butts down, the morning won't wait on you." Mrs. Maple smiled sweetly and then turned back to her work. She had just began to break eggs into the hot skillet when the back screen door creaked open, followed by the heavier wooden door swinging inward allowing Champ to enter the warm kitchen. She frowned as she cracked another two eggs, "Is anyone else coming to breakfast?"

Rose looked between Critter and Champ, "I don't think so Mrs. Maple, is there anything I can do to help with breakfast?"

"No, no. I've got it, although it would be easier if I could get an accurate head count ahead of time." Mrs. Maple groused as she set about cooking one more portion.

Champ hung his coat on the back of a kitchen chair and settled into it. He then looked at the two women sitting beside each other with a raised eyebrow that caused simultaneous blushes to rise on their cheeks. It was amazing how much information one could gather with a mere look. "We need to separate the heifers and get the old ladies to cover."

Rose nodded in understanding.

"How many head?" Critter asked.

"We have ninety with first calves, I want to get them fed up for the winter. The old ladies will go to the Merry Gulch, followed by the main herd. It would be best to get them all out there before winter drops in."

Critter nodded, "How many in the main herd?"

"Nine thousand." Rose said with pride. They were not the largest ranch in operation, but they had a high quality heard.

"I don't remember there being that many when we were kids." Critter said.

Rose smiled as she explained, "Champ pointed out that we could expand if we were to invest in the grasslands along the Tanner Branch River."

Champ nodded, "Your father was against the expansion, not wanting to hire the extra hands it would take to manage the bigger herd."

"That man?" Mrs. Maple tsked from her place at the stove.

"Stubborn was what he was. But that's the past. We can set that aside now and move forward." Champ said not wanting to speak any further about his former boss. "So, Critter, do you feel like you can handle teaching Rose how to drive?"

Critter looked at her lover with narrow eyes. "I dunno she's sure green in the saddle."

Rose frowned, "I've been getting as much practice as possible, I feel like my ass is going to fall off."

Champ chuckled, "You're just about ready then to be initiated into the brother and sisterhood of cowpokes."

Critter couldn't believe how normal the situation felt. She had great respect for Champ Broody. He had been a close friend of her mom and dad's, and had gone through great measures to keep in contact with her after their deaths. Mrs. Maple had been the Grant's cook since before she was born. The 120 Mile Ranch had been the only home she had known until she was fifteen, then everything had come crashing down. After Rose left the ranch, her parents were fired and left the ranch, as well, and then their tragic death when she was just seventeen. Now here she was, back on the One-Two-Oh, sitting at a breakfast table with Rose, and talking amicably about ranching. She was finally home.

"Hey."

Critter looked at Rose and smiled. "Hey."

"You kind of left us for a moment there." Rose said taking Critter's hand in her own.

"I was just reminiscing." Critter said.

"Well it's time to wake up and eat breakfast." Mrs. Maple announced setting a bounty of food on the table.

After a hearty breakfast filled with laughter and good food, Critter returned to the bunkhouse to get ready for the day. The women she shared the bunkhouse with were up milling about, most in various states of undress. She weaved her way through the women toward her bunk and locker. And then it started, at first it was just one set of hands clapping, but then it continued to build until the entire bunkhouse was applauding her. She blushed hard as they pressed in around her slapping her on the back and tousling her hair. She took it all in stride as her comrades continued their good nature ribbing.

"Okay, okay, everyone quite down!" A voice boomed from within the crowd and the women slowly complied. "We want to hear all the details!" The group erupted in a burst of agreement.

Critter raised her hands and hushed those around her, and after they were all quiet she smiled at them as said. "I do not kiss and tell. So you'll all just have to use your imagination!"

There was a collective moan of disappointment. "I will say this though?" She waited for them all to fall quiet once again, "?Mrs. Maple cooks a mean breakfast!" She found herself being tackled by several cowgirls, who took it upon themselves to tickle her until she threatened to pee on them if they didn't stop their commotion. Her friends relented and the bunkhouse returned to the morning routine of getting ready for a day on the ranch.

Critter stripped out of her clothes from the day before and headed to the shower. It was going to be a busy day. In actuality, it was Critter's favorite time to be on a ranch. She liked the excitement and the challenge. Soon winter would be upon them and the work would be mundane. She could still hardly believe her good fortune to be working again at the 120 Mile Ranch.

Rose couldn't think of a time that she had ever been so cold, sore, and blissfully happy in her life. It took three weeks to get all the cattle sorted and driven to the Merry Gulch. The northern ridge and western rise of the gulch would keep the heard safe from most of the winter storms that would soon be dumping snow and ice. She watched in satisfaction as the last of the heard was driven into the gulch. Critter was bringing up the rear while whistling and waving a coiled length of rope in short arcs in the air to encourage a few stragglers along.

Champ rode up beside Rose and tipped his hat, "That's the last of 'em, all that's left to do is feed them and bust open the watering holes when they freeze."

"I'll work on a schedule." Rose said absently as Critter passed them giving Rose a wink and smile.

Champ watched the interaction between the two women with a smile of his own. "So you don't need any drama, huh? You two have been awfully friendly this last month, Mrs. Maple says that the Critter has been at breakfast every morning since that first time. Is this a serious situation?"

Rose looked annoyed, "We're just getting to know each other again."

Champ nodded, "Do you love her?"

Rose looked at the object of their discussion as she rode toward them. "I don't have an answer for that question yet."

Champ watched Rose's face transform from weary to joyous in a matter of seconds as Critter came to a stop to Rose's right. Champ figured that even though Rose couldn't answer his question with words, she answered it with the pure look of love toward Critter. He would have to share his observations with Mrs. Maple over evening coffee.

Critter pushed her Stetson back on her head and looked over her shoulder at the milling herd behind her, "That's that." She said before tuning back in her saddle to look at Rose. "How about we go into town and have dinner as a celebration?"

"Like a real date?" Rose asked excited about the idea.

"Sure. We'll dress up and everything. I'll pick you up at six." Critter said with a smile.

Rose thought about going on a date. It would be nice to be off the ranch for a bit. There didn't seem to be a soul on the place that didn't know about her and Critter and it was becoming more and more claustrophobic as the days passed. "Okay, let's do it." She nodded, "I'll be ready at six."

Critter was about at her wits end. She had made it back to the bunkhouse after stabling her horse for the evening only to discover that she had no suitable clothing for an evening out with Rose. The entire house came to her rescue with various donations, the only problem was that she was much shorter than most of the other women and most of the clothes simply made her look like a little kid playing dress-up. She looked at herself in one of the old framed floor mirrors that dotted the bunkhouse, "I look twelve." She threw her hands up in the air. The black trousers were cuffed at least four times, the white western cut shirt's sleeves were rolled into thick cuffs, and the borrowed silver bolo hung down past her waist. "I'm not going." Critter said and sulked off to her bunk where she laid down and curled up.

Brenda Marx, the recently elected bunkhouse leader, walked over and sat on the edge of Critter's bunk. She placed her hand on Critter's back and rubbed small circles. "Come on, little bit, Rose will be waiting for you." Critter's head shook back and forth and Brenda thought she heard a sniffle. Brenda gave Critter's back a little pat before standing and moving to the concerned group of women waiting near by. She thought for a moment before reaching out and pulling the nearest cowgirl to her by her shirt front. "I want you to go find Mrs. Maple, tell her what's going on and that we need her help." She received a solid nod and a sloppy salute before the woman ran to do her bidding. She addressed the rest of the waiting group. "Just every one else calm down and let's see if Mrs. Maple can help." There were mumbles of agreement as the group broke apart and drifted off to other distractions as they all waited for the wise ranch matriarch to arrive.

Mrs. Maple looked at the young woman who was rattling off some story about Charlotte, Rose, a date, and much too large clothes. She tried to process all the information as the girl finally stood silent looking expectantly at her. She held up a finger in the air, "Just a moment, I need to think."

Mrs. Maple walked the long screened porch where she had been folding linens out of the dryer. She gathered that Charlotte had a date with Rose - dinner in the city - and she had no proper clothing, but that the girls had tried to help remedy the situation. The help provided was inadequate and now Charlotte had made a rash decision not to keep the date with Rose. Mrs. Maple turned toward the cowgirl waiting on the porch, "Let's go." She pulled her sweater a bit closer as she followed the cowgirl across the ranch's main yard to the row of bunkhouses that served as home for the many hardworking ranch hands.

She had only been to a bunkhouse on the occasion that one of the men were ill and needed lunch delivered, and she always had dreaded those trips. Entering a bunkhouse full of men was always unpleasant, the smell and the mess were constants. Mrs. Maple found herself pleasantly surprised as she walked through the door of the women's bunkhouse. It was well lit, smelled fresh and clean, and was even comfortable arranged. They had found some rag rugs to cover most of the plank flooring, and there were several women working amicably in the kitchen area preparing the evening meal. Although Mrs. Maple cooked lunch for the entire ranch population, the hands were left to their own devices for breakfast and dinner.

Mrs. Maple was led to Charlotte's bunk where she found Charlotte curled up on her side sniffling. "Is this anyway for a hardened cowgirl to act?" She asked loudly placing her hands on her hips.

Critter rolled over and looked at Mrs. Maple, "I don't even have decent clothes to wear, how can Rose possibly want me?"

"Nonsense. Now get up and come with me, I think I have just the thing for you to wear." Mrs. Maple bent and grabbed Charlotte's arm and pulled her up from the bed.

"I don't want to hurt you feelings, Mrs. Maple, but I don't think you could possibly have anything I could borrow." Critter said looking pointedly at the older woman's round figure.

Mrs. Maple stopped in her stride, "Well there's no reason to be rude, Charlotte. If you don't want my help that's fine with me." She dropped Charlotte's hand and kept walking toward the door only to be stopped by a hand on her shoulder.

"Wait! I'm sorry. I do want your help, but I don't think there's enough time for me to get ready," Critter said sadly.

Mrs. Maple looked at her watch, "We have nearly half an hour, that should be plenty of time, but you have to come with me now. Do you trust me?"

Critter nodded her head quickly, "I trust you completely."

"Good. Now come on." Mrs. Maple once again picked up Charlotte's hand and marched her across the ranch compound.

Critter soon found herself ushered into Mrs. Maple's small cottage that sat just behind the big ranch house. She was dragged up the stairs and commanded to strip out of her clothes as Mrs. Maple disappeared into a closet.

Mrs. Maple perused a row of well-kept suits hanging in see-through bags. She picked a light-gray wool suit cut in the western style that was popular forty years prior, but with the way old fashions were now once again being worn, the suit would look thoroughly modern. She exited the closet, "I think this will do." She laid the suit bag out on the bed.

Critter had just finished taking off the last of the donated clothes from her house mates as Mrs. Maple crossed to a chest of drawers and pulled out a white shirt wrapped in plastic. Critter stood in her underwear and socks, nervously shifting from one foot to the next as Mrs. Maple unwrapped the shirt and shook it out.

"Here put this on first." Mrs. Maple instructed handing the shirt to Charlotte. She then went to the bed and unzipped the suit bag.

Critter pulled the crisp white shirt on finding it nearly a perfect fit. The sleeves were just a smidge too long, but would probably look fine once the cuffs were closed. A pair of gray wool pants was handed to her next. She pulled them on and was pleased to find their length to be spot on. She hooked and zipped them closed after neatly tucking her shirt away. She turned and looked at herself in the mirror.

Mrs. Maple smiled, "Your just about exactly the same size as my Bob."

Critter smiled at Mrs. Maple's reflection in the mirror as she adjusted her shirt and the waistband of the pants. Mrs. Maple took each of her sleeves and affixed small silver cufflinks in each cuff. Critter raised one of her wrists up to look at the square silver links, it was engraved with the number 120.

"Bob had those made after being on the ranch for ten years. I always thought they were handsome." Mrs. Maple said as she held up the suit jacket and helped Charlotte into it. "There, that's a good fit, and the gray lets the green of your eyes shine bright. Just a couple more things and you'll be all set."

Critter adjusted the suit jacket on her shoulders and experimentally buttoned it closed. That was when she noticed how tailored the suit actually was. It did not hang on her like a man's suit at all. In fact it looked like it had been cut just for her. "Mrs. Maple? Bob wouldn't have been short for Roberta was it?" She asked as she examined her reflection in the mirror. She turned to find Mrs. Maple exiting the closet with a pair of boots in one hand a white cowboy hat it the other.

Mrs. Maple smiled and shook her head up and down a little. "We met in high school, it was love at first sight." She handed Charlotte the boots and watched as the girl sat on the edge of the bed and pulled them on, and adjusting the suits pant legs over the tops of each boot.

Critter stood and stomped her feet into each black boot. She then looked up at Mrs. Maple, "I had no idea."

Mrs. Maple smiled and blushed, "Well it's not like your generation discovered lesbianism, dear." She went to the chest of drawers and opened a box on top. She pulled a thin black ribbon out of the box and approached a now blushing Charlotte Johnson. "Lift your chin."

Critter stood still while Mrs. Maple tied a neat a neat bow around her collar. She was then spun back toward the mirror as Mrs. Maple place the white hat on her head.

"There. A cowgirl any woman would want to be seen with in public." Mrs. Maple said stepping back to take in her handy work.

Critter smiled at her reflection. "Thank you, Mrs. Maple, it's perfect." She quickly turned and gathered the older woman in a tight hug.

"Now, now. Don't go wrinkling my hard work." Mrs. Maple scolded softly before pushing Charlotte away, "You need to get going, Rose is waiting for you."

Critter leaned closer to Mrs. Maple and placed a quick kiss on the older woman's cheek before silently turning, and then bounding down the stairs and out the front door.

Mrs. Maple sat down on the edge of the bed with her hand to her cheek where Charlotte had kissed her. She smiled to herself and sighed, she decided she would get some of the girls to help her carry some of Bob's things over to the bunkhouse for Charlotte to have, at least that way someone would be getting some good use out of them. The decision made her happy and she set about to make it happen.

Critter made it to the front porch of the main ranch house after a brief detour to retrieve her wallet and truck keys. She made sure her tie and jacket were straight before pulling the cord to the doorbell. She stepped away from the door as it was quickly opened, revealing Rose on the other side of the screened storm door. "Six o'clock." She said softly with a smile.

"Right on time." Said Rose with a smile pushing through the screen door and pulling the heavy solid door closed behind her. She looked Critter up and down and smiled, "Wow, you clean up nice."

Critter smiled as she took in Rose's navy blue dress that came mid calf on her long legs, and sleeves that just reached her elbows. The collar was distinctly Mandarin with a gold braided closure. The little braided buttons continued down the front of the dress to just before the hem. Rose carried an embroidered shawl draped over one arm. "I can say the same for you. Definitely wow." She smiled.

Rose pulled a set of car keys out of her purse and dangled them in front of Critter, "We'll take my car. God only knows what's on the seat of that jalopy of yours."

"It's a work truck, what do you expect?" Critter retorted taking Rose's hand in her own.

"Tonight I expect soft seats and a heated interior." Rose said steering them toward the garage. "And I expect you to drive." She tossed the keys at Critter who snagged them expertly from the air.

Critter watched as Rose got into the passenger side of the black BMW parked in the garage. She smiled to herself, "I can drive this, no problem." She opened the driver's side door and got in behind the wheel. As her hands landed on the leather covered steering wheel, she let out a long whistle and then said, "Nice."

"Glad you approve." Rose said, "Now on to town, I want dinner."

The fourteen-mile car ride to Grant's Pass was quick with simple conversation and soft touches. Critter couldn't get over how wonderful and empowered she felt. She had dated and been with other women in her life, but she had never felt more complete. She pulled up in front of a very non-descript building just off the town square.

Rose peered out the window at the building. "Um, Critter? This appears to be no place."

Critter laughed then said, "Oh, it's someplace. Come on, I guarantee you're going to love it." She exited the car and walked around to the passenger side to offer her hand to Rose.

Rose smirked as she took Critter's hand and stood. "My aren't we butch tonight."

Critter smiled. "All just part of the total Critter Johnson dating service, ma'am," she said, closing the car door and guiding Rose to the solid brown door that sat in the middle of the building. She pulled the door open and ushered Rose inside.

Rose knew she must have gasped as she covered her mouth. They had just stepped into a very well appointed restaurant. "I didn't expect this."

"Best kept secret in Grant's Pass." Critter said as she pulled Rose up to the Maitre d's podium. She smiled at the man, "Hey, Steve."

"Charlotte!"

Rose watched as Critter was literally accosted by Steve. She stifled a giggle as Critter was inspected from head to toe.

"I never imagined you could be cleaned up to the point of preciousness." Steve said running his finger's through Critter's hair to order it to his satisfaction. He looked over Critter's shoulder at the tall dark haired woman smiling lovingly at his friend. "And who is this lovely creature?" Steve let Critter go and stepped in front of Rose.

"This is Rose Grant." Critter introduced.

"The Rose Grant?" Steve asked wide-eyed.

"The one and only." Critter said coming to stand next to Rose.

Steve extended his hand toward Rose, "I'm honored to meet you, and welcome to my place."

Rose accepted Steve's hand and shook it. "Why haven't I ever heard of this place?" She asked looking past Steve into the dining room. There were few empty tables and she could hear a small band playing somewhere out of her sight.

Steve took her hand and pulled her through the opening that led to the dining room proper, "Well let's just say that the locals don't appreciate eating in the same restaurant with Sally and Suzie making googly eyes at each other. So my partner and I started this little place." Steve waved a hand to indicate the dining room.

Rose nodded her understanding as they weaved in and out of the tables. She tried not to openly stare at the other patrons, but found herself recognizing quite a few couples. "I had no idea."

"Well we are the only confirmed gay friendly eatery in a hundred mile radius. We also have the best food in Northern Wyoming and draw quite the crowd of gourmet food lovers." Steve said stopping at a secluded table. "Here you go ladies, I'll send your server right over."

Rose took her seat and continued to look over the patrons, "Oh my God! That's Phillip Macy." She pointed past Critter's shoulder, "He was such a hater when we were kids."

Critter twisted just a bit to get a look at the man who had tormented so many kids when they were all younger. "Huh, well you know what they say about those that protest the loudest." She said turning back around, "Enough staring at the gay wildlife. We're here for a romantic dinner." Critter accepted a menu from the newly arrived waiter.

"Point taken." Rose set about the task of settling in for a nice evening with Critter, to heck with the rest of the world.

The dinner was perfect, and Rose had never felt more comfortable sharing a meal with a lover. The car ride back to the ranch was filled with laughter and reminiscing. Rose played with the short hairs at the back of Critter's neck making occasional trips to outline a well-formed ear.

"If you don't stop that, we're going to crash." Critter said with a grin.

"You better not, I have plans when we get home." Rose said seductively.

"Home?" Critter asked.

"Isn't it? I mean you are planning to stay? with?" Rose pulled her hand away from Critter's neck and retreated away to sit close to her car door where she stared out at the dark landscape passing by.

Critter sighed as she pulled onto the main road of the One Two Oh. She pulled the car in front of the house and stopped. She turned the car off and pulled the keys from the ignition. "Rose."

"It's alright, I just thought?" Rose couldn't finish putting words to her thoughts afraid it would make it true. She opened her car door and exited the car.

Critter cursed under her breath, this was not how the evening was supposed to end. She quickly got out of the car and hurried to catch up with Rose, meeting her on the porch. "Rose, wait."

Rose was afraid to look at Critter, tears had already started to fall down her cheeks, but she stopped and stared at the big wooden door. She waited for Critter to have her say.

Critter reached her hand out and placed it softly on Rose's back. "I didn't mean to upset you. It's just that when you said home, it hit me that I really want this to be it for me. I want this to be my home, our home." She took a deep breath, "I'm in love with you Rose Grant. Deeply, madly, honestly in love."

Rose's tears suddenly turned from sorrow to joy as she heard Critter's declaration. She quickly turned around and gathered Critter in a crushing hug, "And I'm in love with you Charlotte Johnson. Deeply, madly, and honestly in love with you." She leaned down and sealed her statement with a slow kiss.

Critter melted into Rose. She felt her heart open up; it was the most exquisite feeling in the entire world.

Rose pulled away to look down into Critter's tear stained face. "So, are you coming up?"

A smile spread to Critter's face. "Only if I don't ever have to leave."

Rose wrapped her hand in Critter's and turned toward the door. "Well the ad did require you to teach me how to rope, I don't think we've covered that - or branding either, for that matter. And I'm not a quick learner, so I suppose you better move your stuff in here so we can practice all the time."

Critter laughed, "I'll get my stuff in the morning. I wouldn't want to shirk on my responsibilities."

Rose pulled Critter through the front door and then kicked it closed behind her, dragging Critter up the stairs.

In the kitchen, Champ Broody and Mrs. Maple sat at the kitchen table sipping coffee. They listened in silence as the two sets of footsteps walked across the floor and into the room right above the kitchen. They both rolled their eyes as the squawk and squeak of old box springs sang out.

"Do they do anything else?" Champ asked looking up at the ceiling.

Mrs. Maple blushed, "They're young and in love, it hasn't occurred to them to do anything else. Now you owe me a hundred dollars, Mr. Broody."

Champ smiled as he reached for his wallet. "I should know better than to dare you to do something, Bobbi always warned me that you never backed down, and you never lost."

Mrs. Maple counted the five twenties that Champ handed her, already thinking of how she would spend the money at the general store in Grant's Pass. "You should've listened to her. I told you that ad would work."

Champ stood and crossed to the coffee pot where he refilled his cup. The bedsprings sang above once again and giggles filtered down through the floorboards. "Money well spent." He said as he went back to the table.

The old friends ignored the sounds coming from above them as they continued their conversation. It was a perfect evening for friends? and lovers.

End

[faveficarchive]

~ Home Fires ~ (Part 2)

by Christine "Roo" Toups 

GENERAL COPYRIGHT/DISCLAIMER:

Dr. Janice Covington and Melinda Pappas are the sole copyright property of MCA/Universal and Renaissance Pictures. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the property of the author. Copies of this story may be made for private use only and must include all disclaimers and copyright notices. 

LOVE/SEX WARNING/DISCLAIMER:

This story depicts a love/sexual relationship between two consenting adult women. If you are under 18 years of age or if this type of story is illegal in the state or country in which you live, please do not read it.

Carelessly, words and music by C. Kenny/N.Kenny/N. Ellis used without permission. 

NOTE: © copyright 2000 One Bard Writin' 

Part 2

Chapter 10

Mel groaned, awash in inarticulate misery as she clutched the white porcelain bowl. Janice sat behind her on a short footstool; one hand kept long, raven hair pulled back, out of harm's way, while the other grasped the chain pull. "Okay?" Nodding, Mel leaned against Janice's knee, surrendering to the pounding in her head as the water gushed and swirled counter?clockwise down the pipes. Janice put a glass of water into her trembling hands with the simple command, "Rinse. Spit." Mel obeyed without question, after which Janice pulled the chain again and helped Mel to her feet. 

Leaning heavily on the smaller woman, Mel whispered, "I'm sorry 'bout your boots." 

"Washed right off," replied Janice.

"And your blouse..."

"A little cold water...Okay, hang on just a sec..." Steadying Mel with one hand, she hastily turned down the bed with the other. "Okay, don't get any ideas now." Leaving her charge teetering at the edge of the bed, Janice snaked her arms around Mel's waist and groped for the button at the back of the A?line skirt.

Mel put her hands on Janice's shoulders for support. "You've come to your senses at last?"

"Nope." Janice popped the snap. "Still out of my tree." She passed the skirt over shapely hips and chased its descent with her hands until it fell in a puddle at Mel's feet. "Step out...first one foot...that's good, now the other - that's my girl...and she does it all without a net."

Mel sat heavily upon the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry to be so much trouble." 

"Undressing you, Mel, is a lot of things, but trouble ain't one of them." Janice's hand moved deftly over the pearly buttons of Mel's blouse, popping each with a practiced, three?fingered maneuver that was normally a prelude to more strenuous activity. She slipped the blouse from Mel's slim shoulders and glanced appreciatively at the camisole draping tantalizing swells and curves in a fine satin sheen. "Nice. You do wonders for it." 

"Wonders for what?" Mel asked groggily.

Janice rolled her eyes. "Never mind. You're too drunk to appreciate my wit."

Mel arched an eyebrow. "Maybe I'm not drunk enough."

Janice clucked her tongue, then replied, "I reserve comment," and plumped a couple of down?filled pillows before sliding Mel's legs beneath the blanket. "There now, you're all set."

Mel's fingers scrunched the blanket on either side of her hips. Her attractive face could best be described as panicked...and green. "Janice..." she sucked a breath over her teeth, "...the room's spinnin'..."

"Of course it's spinning," Janice retorted, tucking the blanket close. "Cheap whiskey will do that." Mel groaned, unable to appreciate the sarcasm. "Close your eyes. It helps." She stepped away to switch off the powerful overhead light in favor of the small lamp atop the dresser. The 40 watt bulb beneath a natty fringed shade cast the room in a soft yellow light more conducive to sleep. Kneeling beside the bed, she stroked Mel's pinched brow. "Better?"

Mel shook her head miserably and threw one arm over her eyes. "Shoot me, Janice, just shoot me now."

Janice laughed and kissed Mel's forehead. "Oh, no no...I have plans for you, Melinda Pappas."

Mel peeked out with one eye and conjured up the hint of a smile. "At last, a reason to live."

A few minutes later, Janice left her there, half?asleep in the half?dark. She kept the bedroom door open a few inches, should Mel should call for her, and padded quietly down the hall and into the kitchen. The scene awaiting her was tantamount to a battlefield: dirty dishes, pots and pans, food left on a cluttered table. Who knew that two people could generate such chaos? "No wonder I eat take out so often." 

She tied the apron loosely about her waist and went to work clearing the table of leftovers. She didn't play favorites; everything from vegetables to sweet breads went to the icebox, although she found room in her full stomach for the last of the olives, simply because they reminded her of Athens, and Mel. She washed and dried the dinner dishes and made a half?hearted attempt to scrub clean a particularly dirty roasting pan before finally consigning it to soak overnight in soapy water. When she looked up at the old clock on the wall, she was surprised to see that it was nearly nine in the evening. "Time. It do fly," she quipped, mildly startled by the sound of her own voice in the large, unnaturally quiet house. While her hands were clean and dry, she opened the phonograph and carefully re?sheathed the Billie Holiday record; she suspected it wouldn't see further play in her absence. Small minds, she mused. 

She turned, bundling the crumb?strewn tablecloth by its corners. As she prepared to shake it out, she pondered how long to let Mel sleep, while at the same time contemplating the merits of simply weaving her arms and legs into and around that lanky frame and drifting off to sleep beside her. There was another, decidedly less pleasant option which consisted of two fingers of whiskey, a good book and her feet up. The sole benefit of this scenario was that it required no explanation to an inquisitive child arriving home unexpectedly. 

She opened the back door with the toe of her boot and flung out the linen, shaking it by two corners. Draping it over one arm, she stood in the open doorway, enjoying the smells and sounds carried on the night air ?wattles in bloom, and dingoes, and the windmill rods pumping hard in the cool evening breeze. Tossing the tablecloth over the back of a chair, she stepped outside, closing the door behind her. The moon was just peeking over the backbone of the roof, shedding pale light across the yard, onto the bleached rail fence and the crude clothesline strung between the fence and the porch. She recognized her jodhpurs, still heavy with water, hanging limply from the line; in contrast, her white blouse and brassiere greeted her with an obscene wave. She fished inside the blouse's breast pocket with two fingers, seeking the cigar she had earlier secreted there, but came up empty. She muttered an oath and slung the blouse and brassiere over her shoulder just as something slithered, to papery effect, through the tall saw grass just beyond her line of sight; she was not inclined to investigate. Instead, she backpedaled towards the house nonchalantly, affecting a shiver, as if her abrupt departure had more to do with the brisk northerly wind than any creepy crawler, real or imagined.

Inside the house, the temperature had dropped to a cool 65 degrees, only slightly warmer than the air outside. Dropping the blouse and brassiere on the table, she slipped into the familiar warmth of her leather jacket as she left the kitchen to check on Mel. She glanced through the four?inch gap without touching the knob, because the bedroom door had the tendency to squeak. Mel lay facing her, a large pillow crushed to her chest by her long, slim arms. Her lips, slightly parted, breathed softly into the linen. A corner of the pillow lay trapped between the mattress and one exposed thigh. Janice's knees went weak; she had never wanted to be a pillow so badly in all her life. Down, girl. Turning to leave, she gave the luscious vision one last glance. Think baseball, baseball!

In the living room, she took a moment to peruse the rather impressive library Jack Greenway had amassed over the years ? Hemingway, W.B. Yeats, Cervantes, Mark Twain ?literary luminaries sandwiched between lesser?known local authors. She squinted at the spines on a set of technical digests, sounding out the titles aloud. "Secrets of Night Bass Fishing...Fly Casting and How to Tie Them...How to Land a Trophy Fish." She sighed heavily. Makes sense. What else would a land?locked man do but dream of fish? In the end, she selected Death in the Afternoon and adjourned to the glider on the verandah. She poured herself a drink, crossed her ankles atop a low wicker table and opened the book, flipping past the acknowledgments. But the whiskey, Hemingway's laconic writing style and 30 hours without sleep all combined with predictable effect. She surrendered to sleep before the first bull was bloodied.

Mel found her there sometime later, recumbent on the glider, the book tented open on her chest and an empty tumbler dangling precariously from her slackening fingers. From her place in the open doorway, the tall Southerner watched with a stillness she had forgotten; it occurred to her that Janice appeared younger when asleep. Her normally expressive face was cherubic and unlined, her full lips drawn into a strange little smile that was both innocent and provocative. Mel approached for a closer scrutiny, the bed sheet she had draped over her shoulders for warmth whispering against her bare legs as she walked. She rescued the tumbler from certain disaster and carefully extracted the volume of Hemingway, glancing at the title before laying it aside. Janice lay ripe for the picking. Sleeping Beauty. Once the analogy was in her head, Mel had no choice but to content herself with a single kiss, feather?light upon warm lips which fell open like the petals of a rose.

"Nice," Janice murmured, without opening her eyes. "But just one?"

"You were asleep," Mel retorted. "Give me credit for a little restraint." She pulled the sheet close around her and withdrew until her back was against a cool support post. "Pleasant dreams?"

"Very." Affecting nonchalance, Janice folded her trembling hands in her lap, but she could do little to calm the wild beating of her heart. Content to indulge in what seemed to be mutual appreciation, pale green eyes moved over an impressive physique every bit deserving of such patient scrutiny. The bed sheet, pale against Mel's pale skin, alternately clinging or draping at the whim of the wind, gave her the appearance of a living Greek sculpture. And it was all hers for the asking, once she found her voice. "You must be cold in that," she managed at last.

"Just the opposite." Mel relaxed her grip, and the sheet slipped down to reveal a bare shoulder. She dropped her voice an octave, drawing the slow, sensual tones from her throat like a weapon. "I'm very warm."

There was a hint of delicious friction as Janice uncrossed her ankles and stood. Over the noise of her blood, she heard herself say, "You look like you're feeling better."

"I'm sober as a judge, if that's what you mean," Mel replied. A small smile turned up the corners of her lips. "I'm not drunk, and you're not dreamin'...although I could pinch you if you like."

Janice raised an eyebrow. "Maybe later." 

"Are you glued to that chair?" Janice erupted in a chuckle of nervous laughter that Mel found endearing. "What's the matter? More afraid of peace than war?"

"What would you like me to do, Mel?" Ohh, there's a loaded question.

"This is a seduction, Dr. Covington." Mel opened her fist and the sheet slid from her shoulders - over the soft roundness of her hips and the bared violin curve of her waist - until she was standing before Janice, nude. "Use your imagination."

Janice cut the space between them without delay, pinning Mel roughly against the clapboards of the house. Immersing her hands in loose raven tresses, she crushed Mel's lips to her own in a bruising kiss. She felt hands at her face, on her breasts, in what seemed a frenzied grope; while her own hands roamed, mapping the landscape of her lover's body -- peaks and valleys that stirred beneath her touch. Her left hand skimmed the flat plane of an abdomen, stroked the silky, damp nest of curls below, and drew one long forefinger through the wetness before coming to rest on a high, hard nub of flesh.

"Oh..." Mel's body froze at a peak. "There..." she murmured against Janice's neck. "...right...there....oh...ohmy..." she groaned. She used the pleasure pulsing through her body in waves to fuel her own exploration, trading skin for leather as she worked the jacket from Janice's body. "One of us..." she gasped. "...is over?dressed."

Janice answered the complaint with a deep kiss as she shucked off the jacket, flinging it carelessly aside in the rush to maintain crucial momentum. Tangled in Mel's grasping arms, she was groping for the buttons on her slacks when the howl of a dingo filtered through the blood pounding in her ears. "Jeez...that sounded close." 

"Just a dingo..." Mel muttered breathlessly as she pushed the khakis down over Janice's hips. She seized handfuls of the white blouse, impatiently bypassing the buttons, choosing instead to ruck the material up and over her lover's head, exposing ample, round breasts. "Oh, God," she crooned, "I love your body." She was sure she growled 

as she fell upon the deliciously swelling flesh, ringing the aureola inside her warm, wet lips while her tongue danced unseen over an erect nipple. Janice's groan of satisfaction was unmistakable. "So perfect..." Mel murmured as she peppered the washboard stomach with tiny, nipping kisses, and swirled her tongue in and around Janice's navel. 

Accomplishing all of this while standing was awkward; even in bare feet she towered a full six inches above Janice's head. She scanned the plank floor at her feet for obstructions and was preparing to take their lovemaking to an entirely new level when she felt Janice stiffen in her arms. Mel's voice was a mixture of dread and disbelief. "Janice Covington, don't you dare! Not yet...not without me!"

Janice was too preoccupied to be offended. She dipped and hitched up her slacks. "We can't do this, Mel...not here."

"Why? Are you cold? C'mere," she coaxed. Her hands cupped Janice's backside, drawing their bodies together once more. "Lemme warm you..."

Janice reluctantly peeled herself away. "I swear, Mel, you've got more arms than Vishnu! Have you forgotten about Alice?" 

"Alice." Mel shivered, the sweat on her body beginning to cool in the night air.

"Yeah. Thirteen, bright but impressionable? That Alice." Janice squinted into the surrounding blackness. "What if she were to come home and walk up on this...this anatomy lesson?! Have you thought about that?" 

Mel crossed her arms and, grinning, replied, "Not once." She secretly wished for her glasses; the shock on Janice's face was no doubt, priceless.

"Where's my shirt? Criminy, Mel...put something on, will ya? You're distracting me!" 

"Relax, Janice," Mel cooed, plucking the rumpled white blouse from a wattle branch. "It's just you and me."

Janice snatched the blouse from Mel's extended fingertips. "Thank you!" she snapped. "You know, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were enjoying this." 

Mel retorted, "I was, up until a minute ago."

Janice narrowed her eyes and sputtered, "You know what I'm talking about. God dammit, where're the buttons on this thing!?"

Mel suppressed a giggle. "You have it on inside out. May I just say one teensy tiny little thing?"

Janice dropped her hands to her side and exhaled wearily. "What?"

There was a moment of anticipatory silence before Mel announced, "Alice is staying the night with her friend. We have the house to ourselves." 

"Oh." Janice shifted where she stood; there was nothing worse than a thoroughly wasted tantrum. "You knew that all along, but you let me get dressed again?"

Mel approached her in a sensuous stroll. "Only because it's such fun undressin' you. Now," she said. "Why don't we see if we can't find a way to re?direct all that misplaced energy of yours." She drew Janice closer with one hand while the other skimmed a bare midriff on its way south.

Janice captured Mel's lips with her own as fingers moved against her pleasantly aching flesh. As her hips rose to the caress of a skillful hand, she sucked in her breath, absolutely light?headed with pleasure. "Oh, God, Mel...that curls my toes..."

Mel responded by wiggling her thumb. "I have many skills."

Janice shuddered and sighed, "How f?fortunate for me," as she surrendered to gravity.

Chapter 11

In the close, palpable silence of a stranger's bedroom, Janice was primed to notice everything -- from the sweet, almost narcotic fog that hung in the air to the heat radiating from her body, reflecting off of Mel's as they lay tangled in the large bed. She felt good...good from the navel out in all directions. She knew there was a goofy contented smile on her face and the knowledge came as a revelation to her. She could count her pre-Mel sexual experiences on one hand -- two brief flings and one serious year-long relationship that ended badly -- a hundred or so sticky, passionate fumblings and never once the fuzzy-warm payoff of afterglow. She had written it off as romanticized claptrap...until she met Mel. Is that all it takes? The right person? Some small fraction of her suspected that the answer could not be reduced to something as fundamental as chemistry. Like all truly good things, love did not require close scrutiny. It simply was.

She lay quietly for some time, admiring her lover's profile and absently fingering feather-light swirls upon Mel's exposed skin while their intertwined bodies gathered moonlight. She had never felt more vulnerable than she did at this moment, lying in the arms of the one person capable of breaking her. She was visibly moved. An angel...I'm in love with an angel. "I deserve this," she said aloud. 

"Hmm...wha'?" Mel responded groggily.

Smoothing sweat-dampened hair, Janice whispered, "Shh, go back to sleep."

Mel nuzzled Janice's neck, gazing up with sleep-heavy lids. "I don't wanna miss anythin'."

"Believe me, sweetheart," replied Janice. "There's nothing I could do alone that wouldn't be more fun with you. You warm enough?" 

"Ummm." Mel smiled against the hollow of Janice's neck and curved an arm around her waist. "I had a real good time tonight."

"Me, too." Janice kissed a crown of dark hair and gathered her close. "Yep," she sighed. "This must be heaven."

"Until sunrise anyway," replied Mel. She wasn't by nature a clockwatcher, but minutes and hours had never seemed so valuable as they did tonight. "What time do you s'pose it is?"

"Don't know, don't care," replied Janice airily.

Mel sat up quickly, as if stung; the blanket pooled unnoticed around her waist. "And it doesn't bother you that we only have a few short hours left together?"

Janice propped herself up on one elbow. "Mel, honey, the sun is going to rise tomorrow. No amount of wishing will change that. I simply choose not to dwell on the inevitable."

"Cynic," quipped Mel, groping for her glasses on the bedside table.

"Realist. There's a difference." She swung her feet to the floor and stood.

Mel caught her by the wrist. "Now I've gone and chased you outta bed."

"Oh, heart," Janice retorted. "You could never do that. However," she said, reaching for the dressing gown at the foot of the bed. "I do have to visit the little archaeologist's room."

Mel's lips curved in a playful line. "Oh, allright, if nature calls..." She watched as Janice thrust one arm into the flowing sleeve of the gown. "No. Don't," she said, capturing the hem of the garment in her fist. A smouldering gaze lingered over sculpted abs and firm, pert breasts. "It'd be like throwin' a tarp over a Da Vinci."

Janice lifted her eyebrows. "Mel, it's cold in here."

Mel migrated to the spot left warm by Janice's body and replied pointedly, "But it's warm in bed." 

"I can't argue with that kind of logic." Janice stepped out of the gown. "Be right back." 

Mel pushed the glasses up on her nose and said, "Besides, this way I get to see those two cute little dimples on your backside."

Janice scowled and looked over her shoulder. "The woman's a sucker for dimples. Who knew?" 

"I love everythin' about your body," she purred, her voice dissolving into a slow, hypnotic drawl. "I could be a lifetime memorizing every curve and swell." Her finger traced a sizzling path to Janice's hip. "...every little scar and mole -- " Janice cleared her throat and raised one eyebrow in a dramatic gesture. "Beauty mark!" Mel amended with a sly smile. "Every little beauty mark."

"You are so good for my ego," laughed Janice. She knelt on the bed and met warm, parted lips halfway -- quick peck flowered into passionate kiss. Mel's hands worked in concert, one at the small of her back, pulling her inward, the other groping a full, sensitive breast until Janice groaned audibly into Mel's mouth. "Wait wait wait..." she gasped and pulled away with a feral grin. Blowing a breath between her lips she said, "Hold that thought." 

Mel reclined into a cluster of pillows and pursed her lips in an audible pout. "Hurry back," she cooed as her hands curved provocatively beneath her breasts. "I'm missin' you already."

Janice was momentarily transfixed, her mouth watered -- but her bladder made a convincing argument. She held up a finger and looked Mel seriously in the eye. "One minute." She turned, navigating the moonlit room with unseemly haste. At the dresser, she caught sight of her featureless profile in the dark mirror; she gave Mel's hazy silhouette a considering look as if something had only this minute registered. "Da Vinci, huh? Well, at least you didn't say Picasso. What would I do with a third breast anyway?"

"More importantly: what would I do with it?" quipped Mel. She folded her glasses with care and lay them on the nightstand. "The light switch is just there on your left." There was an audible click before soft light illuminated the cul du sac and spilled into the bedroom proper. Mel laced her fingers behind her head and stared at the ceiling dappled with shadows and water stains. "How's it goin' in there? Need any help?" she inquired facetiously.

"No, thank you. I've been doing this alone since I was 2." 

Over the flush of the toilet Mel quipped, "You didn't tell me you were a prodigy!" 

Janice glowered at Mel as she soaped and rinsed her hands. "Oh, I'm gifted, darlin'." She tossed the towel over her shoulder and snapped off the light, groping her way to the bed, bunging her toes into the dresser only once -- "Gotdammittohell!" - before sliding beneath the blanket Mel opened for her. Sucking a breath between her teeth, she growled, "Stupid place for a dresser anyway..." 

"Poor baby," crooned Mel; she lowered her voice a notch. "Let me kiss it and make it all better." She suckled on the soft hollow at the base of Janice's ear eliciting a groan of satisfaction. "You don't mind if I start at the top and work my way down now, do you?" 

Janice closed her eyes, arching her throat into the kiss and replied, "As long as we both get there, sweetheart." 

"Oh, don't you worry about ole Mel," she purred, straddling one of Janice's powerful thighs. "Now...where was I? Oh yes...beauty marks..." She drew her index finger beneath Janice's ribs, sending a shiver across the taut muscles. "Janice...what's this scar here? I don't 'member this."

Janice replied without opening her eyes. "I was 10...pitched right over the handlebars of my bike." Warm lips drew a cool, burning line across her skin. "Have you seen my appendectomy scar?" she quipped.

Mel traced the livid pink scar with her tongue before planting a kiss in the well of Janice's navel with the admonition, "You should be kinder to your body." Janice merely clucked her tongue and shrugged while Mel continued her macabre inventory. Long fingers gently skimmed the starburst-shaped scar where the neck and collarbone joined. "This is new." 

"Gunshot, three months ago in Istanbul," Janice replied lightly, even as she began to flex and release the muscles of her thighs. "Never step between a man and the woman he's battering without first checking him for weapons. That's a little piece of advice from me to you."

"Ohhh, Janice," Mel's face was a strange combination of fear and regret and desire. 

"I wish I had been there for you. Does it hurt much?"

"Let's not talk about pain," Janice replied. "Tonight is about pleasure." Her own breath quickened as Mel rocked, head thrown back, full lips parted in shameless ecstasy. "You're so beautiful," she murmured. Mel's knee, so advantageously placed, struck gold. She grasped Mel's hips as her own began to roll and sway in time with her lover. "Mine. My own flawless Mel..." she whispered as her heart clenched in joyful empathy. 

"What?" Mel slowed her rhythm, breathing shallowly through her mouth as she tried to focus on the face beneath her. "Did you say somethin'?" 

"Oh, God, Mel...whatever you do, don't stop!" Her heart hammered in her chest while the rhythm of their bodies slowed to a steady, less frenetic, ultimately less satisfying pace. She discovered, to her grief, that she could think...but only just. "Now -- what is it?" 

Mel narrowed her eyes. "Did you just call me 'flawless'?" 

Janice reached up, touching Mel's glistening face with a barely contained smile. "You got a problem with that?" 

Mel stopped all motion, screwing her face into a scowl. "You need glasses more than I do. What do you call this?" She lay a finger atop her right breast.

Janice squeezed her eyes shut and pounded her forehead with her free hand. "Wait! Don't tell me. I know this one!"

Mel groaned and slapped her playfully across the cheek. "No, silly...look closer."

With little effort, Janice rolled Mel onto her back, straddling her sleek torso while pinning her arms above her head. "Well, looky there..." She made a show of examining the circular birthmark above what was otherwise a perfect breast. "How'd I ever miss that?" 

At the first touch of a warm, wet tongue, Mel stretched and groaned, weaving her fingers into Janice's as first one breast, then the other was suckled upon until the nipples were aching peaks. She could feel the comforting weight of her lover's breasts, heavy and aroused against her ribcage, and the unparalleled warmth of her center as it married with her own. Articulate thought was the first casualty. "...so wet...fer me..."

"For you..." Janice bit an erect nipple, slavered her tongue around it. "Because of you. Now, may I finish what you started?" Green eyes met blue in a serious gaze as she transferred Mel's grasp to the spindles on the headboard. "Don't you let go," she warned in a low, throaty voice, her fingernails grazing the insides of long, supple arms. "The minute you let go...I stop."

The threat was implicit in word and tone. Mel licked her lips, trapping a corner of flesh between her teeth. Lips and tongue, white hot against glistening pale skin, murmured little endearments as they made lazy but determined progress down the length of her quivering, eager body. Legs parted, enveloping Janice's retreating form in a heady, fragrant embrace until her ankles crossed at the small of her back, drawing Janice into a needy union of flesh and teeth and tongue. At the first stroke, the master stroke - broad and rough and achingly slow - her hips left the bed in an instinctive spasm. Prickly, breath-snatching sensations, like tiny heart attacks, radiated outward from her groin. She screwed her eyes shut, in delicious agony. Hands, damp with sweat, closed into tight fists, wringing discordant squeaks from the wooden spindles of the headboard as Janice began her work in earnest, with a reverence generally reserved for prayer - the body as a temple. Minutes later, gathering breath for a scream, Mel's body arched like a bow under the expert ministrations of a devoted worshiper. 

* * * * * * * * * *

"Make way! Hot, hot!" Emerging from the house, Janice moved briskly across the verandah clad only in one of Jack Greenway's voluminous shirts, balancing a thick slab of buttered sourdough bread atop the mug of hot tea. "Your tea." 

Seated on the glider, Mel wordlessly opened the heavy blanket with one hand while accepting the proffered mug with the other. She was careful to hold the brimming hot liquid away from her as her partner situated herself against the warm niche of her hip. Once the glider had settled to a near standstill, she cooled her tea with a breath before taking a sip.

Janice bit into the slab of bread she had cut for herself and observed Mel over its glistening surface; the blue eyes that returned her gaze were casually expectant. "Wha'?" she asked, her teeth sunk into the cottony-soft bread. She chewed and swallowed hurriedly in an effort to expedite the conversation. "Something wrong with your tea?"

"I can't believe you actually bit me." Mel sipped her tea through a tight grimace and tried to sound angry as she said, "You're insatiable," but the phrase came across as more a compliment than an indictment.

"I barely broke the skin," Janice argued, pausing to lick a dollop of sweet butter from her fingers. "It didn't even bleed."

"Still an' all, you bit me." 

"Hey, you could've let go at any time, remember? Now who's insatiable?" Janice tucked her bare feet beneath her like a bird, commandeering a little more of the blanket for herself. "I think I sprained my tongue, if that'll make you feel any better."

Mel looked horror-stricken for a moment as a thought struck her. "What if it scars?"

"It won't," countered Janice in breezy counterpoint.

"But if it does..." Mel persisted. "I mean, how does one explain bite marks there..." 

Janice pulled away slightly, until she could no longer feel skin touching skin. "Why would you have to explain? C'mon, Mel," she coaxed playfully. "Think fast."

Equal to the challenge, Mel fired back, "My family doctor might ask."

Janice laughed. "Good answer." She popped the last morsel of bread into her mouth and, chewing thoughtfully, leaned into Mel, filling the hollows of her exquisite body like two spoons in a drawer. They sat in companionable silence for the next few minutes as the quarter moon descended below the foothills, briefly backlighting a stand of bare gum trees, their gnarled branches outstretched in an eerie, questing embrace. With the retreat of the moon, the breeze freshened, whispering through the tops of the trees. "This is beautiful, Mel." Janice's voice was furtive, as if she were imparting confidential information. "I can see what you love about the country."

"Mmm, but I've learned one thing in the last twelve hours..." 

Janice snuggled closer, drawing her knees up and over Mel's thigh. "And that is?"

Encouraged by proximity and opportunity, Mel kissed her and replied, "That even the most breathtakin' panorama can be improved upon." Under the blanket, one hand absently caressed the sensitive skin behind Janice's knees. "Must be after two o'clock..."

Janice touched Mel's hand where it lay exposed, clasping the blanket closed around them. "Don't think about the time, Mel, no watches or clocks here. We have hours yet..." She threaded an arm around Mel's waist and felt her shiver. "Cold?"

Mel burrowed closer into her lover, until they exchanged breaths. "Maybe a little."

"Let's go inside." Janice set her feet on the ground, feeling the cool night air against her legs. "I can start a fire."

As Janice stood, Mel grabbed the dangling shirt tail and pulled her back into the fold of blanket. "Why don't you stay right here and start a fire?"

"Oh. Oh, I can do that, too."

* * * * * * * * * *

Janice awoke to find the sun coming over the horizon, washing the landscape in rich hues of sienna and gold. The horses in the paddock pawed the hard-packed earth and whinnied for their oats. A cloud of green finches wheeled with military precision in the translucent sky before lighting in a stand of pale gums to feast on the insects there. Bon appetite, guys. I could stand a little something myself. Two soft-boiled eggs, bacon crisp, hash browns scattered and smothered. Her mouth watered. As a prelude to breakfast, she stretched her arms and flexed her calves, rotated her ankles - minimal isometrics that began her every morning upon waking. Routine for routine's sake. It was the comforting weight upon her chest and the feel of a possessive arm across her middle that set this morning apart. 

She drew the blanket over an exposed shoulder and peered intently into Mel's face, waiting for her to wake. Her anticipation was almost painful. She pursed her lips, preparing to blow a cool breath across impossibly long eyelashes when her eyes caught movement at the far end of the verandah. Seated cross-legged atop a weathered coffee table, placidly scratching charcoal on a piece of butcher's paper, was Alice. 

Chapter 12

Janice's first instinct was to smile and nod, even as her heart was beating wildly against her sternum. "Morning," she said in a whisper. 

As hoped, Alice took the cue, adopting a conspiratorial voice as she set her charcoal and paper aside. "Good morning." 

Innocent brown eyes observed the possessive lover's clinch, and it occurred to Janice that Alice was either oblivious to the implications, or too tactful to make inquiries. She hoped it was a bit of both. She shifted, careful not to disturb Mel. "Been sitting there long?"

Alice shrugged. "Not very...twenty minutes. You both seemed so peaceful lying there...I didn't want to wake you."

Janice was pleasantly baffled. "You look exhausted...happy, but exhausted."

"Oh, but I had a great time." Alice moved quietly across the verandah to sit in the chair opposite Janice where she elaborated in an enthusiastic whisper. "The blackfellas roasted pig and yams, and we danced 'round this huge fire, and Dinah and I stayed up talking almost the whole night."

Janice squinted into Alice's face. "Is that war paint?"

Alice made a tentative swipe at the dry circle of whitewash on her cheek. "Tribal totems, for Dinah's safe journey. It washes right off." She tilted her head and scanned the length of the glider. "Mel never lets me sleep in the glider overnight. Is it nice?"

Janice restrained her inclination to lie. "I've slept in sarcophagi more comfortable. Why don't you go inside and wash up? I'll dress and make you some kind of breakfast."

Alice stood. "It's already on the stove." One hand closed over the door handle. "I hope you like eggs and fried potatoes."

Janice's stomach growled audibly as a tantalizing aroma reached her nostrils. "Do I smell coffee?"

"Mr. Bonner gave me a quarter kilo of ground djumiya. It's what passes for coffee out here...strong enough to float an iron wedge, or so he said."

"Now there's an appetizing analogy," quipped Janice. "I tell you what: lemme wake Mel, and we'll be in in a few minutes." Alice nodded and disappeared inside the house. Janice listened for the sound of retreating footsteps before waking her companion. "Me...ellll..." she coaxed in a sing song voice. A little more forcefully, she crooned, "Mel, darlin'..." which succeeded in soliciting a murmur and a sleepy smile from her lover. Janice felt the weight of one long leg drape itself across her own, shinnying up her bare thighs while fingers trickled provocatively over her ribcage. She groaned in frustration. Be strong, Janice. "Mel," she said, raising her voice. "Wake up, the sun is rising."

Mel's eyes fluttered open briefly, "Five minutes..." 

"The house is on fire."

Mel simply murmured, "Mmm, tha's nice..." and snuggled closer.

Janice rolled her eyes, shook Mel's shoulder and said sharply, "Mel, wake up. Alice is home."

Mel sat up quickly in the close confines of the glider, causing it to pitch and rock precariously. "Janice Covington," she scolded, narrowing her eyes to slits. "That was cruel." Gathering the blanket around her, Mel extracted herself from Janice's arms and stood, wiping the sleep from her eyes. "You definitely have a mean streak in you." 

Uncovered and left to shiver in the chill morning air, Janice replied, "I thought we established that fact last night." She launched herself from the glider and squinted through the screen door just as Alice disappeared into the kitchen. The aroma of strong coffee wafted through the house, battering down her defenses. She shivered and wheeled where she stood. "Mel, you know I love you, but I gotta say that the attempt to break this to you gently is running neck and neck with my desire for a cup of coffee."

Mel opened her mouth to respond, preparing an acid retort, and instead tasted seasoned potatoes on her tongue. "You're really not jokin'." She took two quick strides to Janice's side and then was very still for a moment, separating the ambient sounds of nature from the clamor of activity in the kitchen. "How much did she see?"

By way of response, Janice picked up the charcoal drawing, an accurate, if primitive, rendering of the two lovers as observed by a third party. Shit. With some trepidation, she showed it to Mel. "What's that old saying? A picture's worth a thousand words?"

Mel's blue eyes went doe-eyed wide. "Oh my Jeezus..." she murmured.

"I dunno..." Janice regarded the drawing at an angle, as if considering a Picasso. "I think it's kinda sweet. Look there, she caught you perfectly."

Mel hissed indignantly, "I am so glad you find all of this amusin', Janice. You can afford to, after all...you're gonna get in that plane and take off, outta her life..." She hitched the blanket around her as it began to slip from her shoulders. "I, however, am committed to life under the same roof for just a while longer. What am I supposed to say to her?"

"Mel, relax." Janice put her hands on Mel's shoulders and steered her from the door. "I talked to her and -"

"You talked to her?" Mel was incredulous. "You talked to her over my sleepin' body?" she hissed. "Could you be any more casual?"

Janice clapped a hand across Mel's mouth and lowered her voice. "If you'd shut up for two seconds, I'm trying to say I talked to her and she seemed fine with everything. She's only 13 years old, Mel. She goes to a Catholic school, for Pete's sake." She peeled her hand away by degrees. "How much do you think she knows?"

"Plenty."

"I didn't know anything at 13, and I went to Catholic schools," Janice retorted.

"Hardly a ringin' endorsement." Mel stepped to the door and peeked in. After a moment of consideration, she said, "I should go talk to her...say somethin'."

Janice put her hand on the doorknob. "I agree, but you might want to dress first," she quipped. She opened the door and pushed Mel, by the small of the back, over the threshold. Hugging the periphery of the room, prepared to make a mad dash if necessary, the pair proceeded down the hallway, breathing a sigh of relief only when the bedroom door closed and locked behind them. "Piece of cake," Janice said as she slid a pair of trousers over her hips.

Mel stepped into her dressing gown, tying it tightly around her waist as she gave her full length reflection a disapproving glance in the mirror. She felt a hand on her arm and turned to see Janice's worried face. "I don't have a clue what to say to her."

Janice touched Mel's face, a tender gesture as she imparted battlefield strategies. "Be honest, but brief. Answer direct questions, but don't volunteer any information."

There was a barely concealed glimmer of disapproval in Mel's eyes as she quipped, "Name, rank and serial number?"

Janice gave her a peck on the lips. "You catch on fast. No wonder I love you." 

Mel laughed soundlessly and unlocked the bedroom door, turning back to look at Janice before leaving. "Any last words of advice?"

"Yeah," Janice replied sternly. "Smile. They can smell fear."

Chapter 13

"They can smell fear," Mel echoed as she made her way down the hall. At the kitchen door she stopped, one hand flat against the smooth wood grain. She breathed deeply - in through the nose, out through the mouth - and entered the room with all the enthusiasm of a woman facing summary execution. Alice was at the stove, her back to the door as she fussed with the contents of a heavy iron skillet. Mel was grateful for the opportunity to pat the perspiration from her face before speaking. "Somethin' smells good," she said, laboring for nonchalance, though the smile that met Alice's gaze came without effort. "Good mornin'."

"Good morning." Alice gave the sizzling potatoes a cursory stir with a spatula. "Made 'em just the way you like 'em: sliced thin, fried crisp and plenty of onions. There's coffee, too. Have a seat. I'll get you a cup."

Though her mind was elsewhere, Mel's stomach voiced unmistakable approval. "I should be making you breakfast," she said, taking a chair at the table, content to be waited upon as it gave her the opportunity to fold Janice's freshly-washed blouse and brassiere into discreet packages. No doubt Janice was waiting on both items . . . sitting on the bed, half-dressed, vibrating with nervous energy. God above! You are so easily distracted, Melinda! Focus! She looked up as Alice approached with a cup and saucer. "You must be tired."

Alice shrugged. "I am a bit, I expect. I'll have a lay down after brekkie." As she hefted the kettle from the stove, she remarked that the coffee had been a gift from Neville Bonner. "--and I 'membered how you like your coffee." She set a cup on the table and filled it with a liquid so black it did not reflect light. 

Mel wrinkled her nose at the contents of her cup, but managed an enthusiastic retort. "Well, it just smells wonderful. Thank you for thinkin' of me." Although she abhorred presumption as a rule, Mel poured liberally from the cream pitcher before tasting the coffee; the sludge in her cup swallowed the light with no discernable change in its own ebony complexion. "Fascinatin'," she muttered, reaching for the sugar bowl.

"Isn't Janice coming to breakfast?" Alice asked.

"When she's dressed." Mel spooned a third helping of coarse ground sugar into her cup. Keenly aware of Alice's scrutiny, she took a tentative sip; her lips puckered and pulled back simultaneously. "It's . . . interestin'," she said, struggling for a suitable word. "I've never had coffee with body before."

The response, meant to discourage, had the opposite effect. "Can I have a cup?"

Mel smiled. "I suppose it's useless to deny you anythin' at this point." Alice retrieved a cup from the cupboard and enthusiastically hefted the coffee kettle. "Half a cup," Mel cautioned. "...the rest milk, and then come and sit with me." She indicated a chair at the table. "I think we need to talk."

Alice furrowed her brow. "Talk about what?"

Mel patted the seat of the vacant chair. "Come and sit. I promise I'm not angry with you." With some trepidation, Alice took her cup and sat at the table. "Fix your coffee," Mel said, with a nod to the cream and sugar. Three heaping teaspoons of sugar and all of the remaining cream went into the effort to make Neville Bonner's coffee palatable, with little success if Alice's sour expression was any indication. "Strong stuff."

Alice nodded and pushed the cup from her. "What did you want to talk about, Mel?"

Mel pursed her lips and said, "I saw the drawin' you left on the verandah."

Alice's first instincts were defensive. "Honestly, I didn't mean to spy, Mel. I just -"

Mel reached across the table and covered Alice's hands with her own. "No, no . . . it's lovely. I think you're a wonderful artist."

Alice's voice conveyed surprise. "You're not angry then?"

"Well, I'd like to have had somethin' to say about the time and place, but no, I'm not angry. I am concerned, though . . . about you." Alice's brows came together in a dubious line. "I realize that what you saw between Janice and I may have left you feelin' a little . . . confused." Mel crossed her legs beneath the table. "I want you to know that I'm here to answer any questions you might have."

Alice wet her lips and met Mel's gaze. "Any questions?"

Gulp. "Within reason." Mel laced her fingers around her coffee mug and lifted her brows slightly to indicate her receptiveness. "Fire at will."

Alice leaned forward against the table and dropped her voice as she met Mel's eyes. "Are you still going to marry my dad?"

Quickly, like pulling out a splinter. "No," replied Mel, careful to return Alice's steady gaze with mutual, unblinking honesty. "There's someone else in my life. When your daddy returns home on leave next month, I intend to tell him."

"Good," Alice interjected briskly. "Because I have to say that if you weren't going to talk to him, I would've done. After all, he's not here to look after his own interests. No offense intended, Mel."

"None taken," replied Mel as she drummed her fingers against the hot porcelain cup. 

"Do you mind if I ask why you don't love my dad? I mean, he's a good bloke, hardworking and a good father."

"I think I have seen enough of your father to echo those sentiments, Alice. The best that can be said of him is that he deserves a wife capable of loving him without reserve and in all honesty, I'm not that woman." She thought she saw a fleeting glimpse of regret on the child's face, though it may have been a trick of the early morning light. Mel looked thoughtfully into her coffee cup before speaking. "My nana always said that the wrong things aren't supposed to last."

Alice cocked her head, committing the epigram to memory, as she did most things. "You're in love with Janice." It was a simple statement of fact made poignant by the absence of rejection and contempt. 

Mel had been prepared to defend her life choices, as she always had. Instead, she sat across the table from the very face of acceptance given physical form, and she was emboldened by the revelation. "Yes," she replied, the admission humming on an air of expectancy.

Alice nodded and fidgeted with the frayed ends of the table cloth. "It's more than just being the best of mates, isn't it?"

"I know this must be very difficult for you to understand, Alice; sometimes I have trouble understandin' it myself. I've spent the last 28 years livin' to please other people . . . one third of my life worryin' about what other people thought of me."

Delicately, but with conviction, Alice said, "I think you turned out all right, Mel."

"I'm glad you think so, too," replied Mel. Alice met her eyes briefly before turning her gaze toward the floor, actions Mel interpreted as anxious precursors to some momentous disclosure or question. "S'okay," she said quietly. "You can say anythin' to me."

Alice looked up, her face alight with genuine curiosity. "How do you know who to love?" 

Mel scratched her head; the question was both naive and insightful. "That's a very good question, and I would be lyin' to you if I said I knew the answer. But the truth is -- where love is concerned, we adults make a dozen false starts in our lifetime . . . We succumb to peer pressure, we seek to please others and we are vulnerable to suggestion . . . Mistakes get made along the way."

"Like my mum and dad. Mum says they got married for all the wrong reasons."

Mel reserved comment. "I should just hold my tongue. I'm probably just confusin' you more."

Alice shook her head vigorously. "No, Mel. I understand. You're saying 'look carefully', don't be swayed by the opinions of others . . . and be true to myself."

Mel looked dumbfounded. "I said all that?" Momentarily, she reached across the table and touched Alice's hair. "You have an exceptional head on your shoulders, but use your heart, too. One of my old archeology professors once told me that it's possible to recognize somethin' by its absence . . . like a puzzle missin' one piece . . . you know the shape of what should be there, even if you don't know what color it is."

"Like Janice," elaborated Alice, grasping the parallel between intellect and intuition. "Your puzzle piece."

"Yes, just like that," Mel replied simply. "Promise me you won't ever settle for less than your heart's desire."

"I promise." Alice's smile faded as a thought occurred to her. "Will Janice be staying on?"

"No, I'm afraid not. She's returning to the dig site today. I think that's for the best . . . considerin'. Don't you?"

Alice replied, "I dunno. I think she and Dad would get on fine."

Oh, you are soooo young. "That might be a little too much to hope for," quipped Mel.

Again, there was a noncommittal shrug. "Guess so. This is really awful stuff," Alice said, indicating the coffee. "Is it all right if I chuck it?"

Mel intoned playfully, "Wasteful, wasteful . . . " She made a face at the black sludge in her own cup and then pushed it across the table by her fingertips. "I won't tell if you won't." As Alice rose, a cup in each hand, Mel asked, "Any other questions?" Alice responded with a brisk shake of her head, but Mel was doubtful. "Nothin'? You're sure?" Mel sighed in relief, and she wondered briefly if this registered on her face. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm hungry," she proclaimed aloud to Alice's retreating form. She gathered the small bundle of clothing to her and stood. "Why don't you dish up breakfast, and I'll see what's keepin' Janice?"

Alice nodded and began to clear the cluttered sink before drawing back her hand with the speed of one who is snake bit. "Hell's teeth!"

Mel wheeled at the profanity and found Alice standing at the sink, clutching one bleeding hand in the other; all thoughts of a reprimand vanished at the sight. Moving faster than she had all year, she bolted for the sink, leaving Janice's clothing on the floor where she had dropped it. "What did you do?" she exclaimed, observing the injury. Since there was too much blood to make an accurate assessment, she turned the spigot to a steady stream and tested the water temperature. "Here, put'cher hand under here." 

Alice grimaced, squeezing her eyes shut as the tepid water washed over her hand. "All I did was reach into the sink to clear the dishes and . . . ssssshitthathurts!"

That's two. Mel would later credit a recessive mother gene with the compulsion to keep tabs on the use of profanity; she stored the information the same way a squirrel stores nuts. "Hurts like the blazes, doesn't it?" She dipped into the bloody water, moved aside the soaking roast pan and cautiously groped beneath it until she came away with a six inch, razor sharp French carving knife which she displayed briefly for Alice. "That's the last time we let Janice do the dishes." She laid the knife out of harm's way and shut off the running water. "Okay, lemme see . . . " She cradled the injured hand in her own, squinting as a livid crimson line welled across the width of Alice's palm. Although the wound was fairly shallow, it bled profusely. "I know it's a lot of blood, but it looks worse than it is. Open and close your hand for me."

Alice complied, flexing the muscles cautiously, biting back the urge to curse, but there were tears in her voice as she asked, "You think it's all right?"

Mel marveled at Alice's glistening cheeks, and the brown eyes swimming with the first tears she had seen Alice cry. "Oh, sweetie," she crooned, wiping the tears away with the balls of her thumb. "I think it could've been much worse." She gingerly patted at the wound with a dry dish towel before wrapping it twice around the hand. "You look like you're about t' faint." She took Alice by the elbow and steered her toward the kitchen table. "Keep pressure on it, like this…" She pressed her fingers into the heavily bandaged palm and with her free hand pulled another chair close until she and Alice were knee to knee. "How does it feel?"

Alice sniffed. "It's throbbing." She shook her head and laughed self-consciously through her tears. "I feel like a great wally, grabbing a knife like that."

"Oh, like you're the only person ever to do somethin' careless." Mel tugged Alice's chin between her thumb and forefinger. "Keep the hand elevated and you'll be just fine, sweetie. Now, I want you to sit here for a few minutes and meditate on your surprising grasp of profanities while I scrounge around for somethin' to put on that."

A beat, followed by the quiet accusation: "You called me 'sweetie'." 

There was a tiny prickle of fear at the base of Mel's spine; had she overstepped her bounds? She smoothed her dressing gown against her thighs and prepared for the backlash. "It just slipped out. Does it bother you?"

Alice wiped her tears against the back of her hand and looked at her feet. After a moment, she muttered, "My mum only ever calls me by my name . . . "

Mel's mouth quivered; there was something decidedly mournful about Alice's disclosure. "It's a nice name . . . Alice."

When Alice looked up, there were fresh tears in her eyes. "I like it when you call me 'sweetie', Mel." Blue eyes met brown in perfect understanding. "You'd've made a good mother."

Mel cupped the girl's face in one hand and smiled. "You would've made it a joy."

Chapter 14

It began with paper thin slices of veal, slathered with spicy mustard and stacked between two pieces of sourdough. "It's not enough," Mel said aloud as she cut the sandwich in half, in effect creating two sandwiches. Still not enough. She wrapped each half separately in waxed paper and placed them in a paper sack, atop a wedge of sharp cheddar. Rooting through the icebox, her fingers closed around the last apple -- mealy but pleasantly tart; that, too, was consigned to the bag. Folding the sack closed, she murmured, "Woman is all appetite." 

She wiped her hands on the apron tied loosely about her waist and studied the sack as if it were a sculpture, a work in progress. For all its contents, it was empty. There's a metaphor in there somewhere . . . Turning again to the icebox, she stared absently into its depths -- at the half-empty milk bottle -- an optimist would have called it half full -- and the bundle of leeks, beyond the anonymous waxed parcels backlit by a cold white light. Squinting into the middle shelf, she muttered, "Eggseggseggs . . . " She gathered three large brown eggs delicately in her hand, knocking a fourth from the bowl to the shelf, where it wobbled past an obstacle course of condiments before plummeting to the hardwood floor. A suicide, Mel mused, studying the glossy yellow pearls on the toes of her shoes. "Well, isn't that a fine mess."

Some minutes later, she left the eggs to boil atop the stove while she adjourned to the bedroom. The curtains were drawn, diffusing the morning sun and casting the room in a vague light that seemed to suit her dour mood. She stood in the doorway for some time, overwhelmed by the scene, noting the appearance and position of every article of discarded clothing or linen -- the bed sheet she had draped upon her body to such mutually satisfying effect, the voluminous white shirt that she knew, even now, would smell of Janice. She left both articles untouched where they had fallen and flicked on a small lamp, preferring its anemic illumination to the full frontal assault of the sun; she simply wasn't ready to view the room in daylight.

Janice's battered leather satchel lay open atop the unmade bed. She hefted the bag with an appreciation for how lightly her partner traveled: a toothbrush, trousers, a fountain pen and notebook, the latter plump and frayed, bound by a single, fat elastic. The essentials. She wondered how a woman with such apparently simple needs could be so complex. It was that contrast -- the fine line between needs and desires -- that served to make Janice so appealing. She shook herself from the reverie occasioned by the weight of the bag in her hand and turned, avoiding the mirror because she didn't want a confrontation. 

Stripping the blanket from the bed, she balled it up and pitched it into the corner, then grasped handfuls of the fitted sheet and pulled. It was warm work; despite the hour, the stifling heat was beginning to bleed through the walls and the panes of glass. By the time she had consigned two pale pillow cases to the pile of linens, there was a fine dew of perspiration on her face and arms. She exhaled audibly through her mouth and gathered the linens in a loose ball, dabbing her face absently with the corner of one sheet. Perhaps what happened next was automatic, certainly self-indulgent, if for no other reason in that no one was watching. She closed her eyes and brought the bundle to her face, stirring up olfactory ghosts -- salt and smoke, sweat and sex. Something primal in her could separate those elements of herself from everything that was Janice. More evocative than each of them individually was their essence as a couple...of what they did and who they were when in one another's arms; she could taste it on her tongue. In the heat of the room, she shivered and clutched the bundle more closely to her, reluctant to dismiss such a palpable rush too quickly.

This . . . was it. She would have to be content with memories, at least until she and Janice were reunited. Hot tears welled in her eyes. Strange, she thought, to be missing someone who had yet to leave. She dropped down onto the bare mattress, the sheets in her lap, hating that part of her which was unable to deal with loss. Naturally, she would not expire from the grief of a temporary separation. Janice had survived it, after all. Janice. In between heartbeats, she had an epiphany: I did this to her ... to Janice.

The cruel clarity of hindsight helped to paint a mental picture of Janice, distraught and abandoned, reading and re-reading the note she had left on the bedside table. Her throat constricted. Fear and pain rose in her like waves. She loosed a strangled cry of anguish before burying her face in the bundle where she sobbed for a full five minutes, unabated and inconsolable. When she pulled up, sniffling, her blue eyes wide, it was not because her tears were spent -- she had quarts in reserve. She had stopped, shutting them down as quickly as one might flick a switch, because of The Sound . . . a low rumble humming through the ground, up through the bedroom floor into the soles of her feet, then rising to a high-pitched whine so powerful it rattled the panes of glass in the windows. It took her muddled mind a second to identify the source, but once the message had made its way from her ears to her brain, she was on her feet in an instant. 

She skidded to a stop on the verandah, spitting gravel and red dust beneath her feet as the screen door slammed unnoticed behind her. With her heart in her throat, she grasped the railing and watched as the Electra's spinning propellers rifled the saw grass on either side of the makeshift runway. "Janice!" The double tap on her shoulder was calculated for effect. Mel spun, hand over her heart, to find Janice leaning against the clapboards of the house, a sly smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Mel narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to speak but realized the futility of words while the Electra held the monopoly on sound. 

Janice winked and gazed beyond Mel's shoulder to a target in the cockpit window. She drew a finger across her throat -- momentarily, the engines died and the props chuffed to a halt. "It's nice to know you can really move when you're motivated. I was beginning to have my doubts." 

"You -- are evil!" Mel accused, but it came away sounding complimentary. She watched Alice clamber nimbly out of the cockpit hatch. "I suppose you put her up to this."

Janice folded her arms across her chest. "Would it surprise you to know it was her idea?"

"She didn't have a cruel bone in her body before you showed up." Mel turned to the Electra, her body tense, her hands white knuckled at her sides. "Alice, mind your step gettin' outta there!"

Janice joined her partner at the top of the stairs. Perhaps it was a matter of proximity, or simply the profound connection they shared, but she could feel the energy coming off Mel in waves. It was the same provocative pheromone that had driven her to distraction last night -- the same, and yet different. She needed distance if she was to think clearly. "'nother hot one," she drawled, fanning the fedora past her face in large, lazy strokes. "Yup. Pur-ga-torial." She tipped back on her bootheels until her shoulder blades met a support post. This is better...just inane chatter and diesel fuel now...nothing to excite a body... Yeah, right. She scrutinized Mel's profile as lit by the sun; she had been crying. Janice was certain of that. The lips she had kissed time and again were the palest pink, parted and trembling... Tears had washed the color from her face and the blue from her eyes. Janice had the irresistible urge to touch, as if doing so could commit to memory this exquisite tintype brought to life. Extending her hand, she said, "You've been crying."

Mel's jaw bunched beneath Janice's touch and, tight-lipped, she responded without taking her eyes from Alice. "We have an audience..."

"So..." Janice let her arm fall naturally to her side, as if breaking contact were her idea. "Hiya, kiddo," she hailed brightly as Alice joined them. "You did good."

Alice's face lit up with pride. "Aww, it was beaut!" she said breathlessly. "I can't imagine anything better than flying! When I cranked that engine and closed my eyes, feeling all that power humming beneath me...I was almost light-headed...like I was cruising at 10,000 feet!"

"Oxygen deprivation," quipped Mel, finding her voice. "Can you really afford to lose any more brain cells? Lemme see your hand."

"It's fine, Mel," argued Alice with a sigh. She mounted the steps and thrust her injured hand in Mel's face. "See?" 

Mel examined the grimy bandage, clucking her tongue in disappointment. "I told you to try and keep this clean," she admonished, putting her hands on her hips. "What am I gonna do with you?"

Janice nudged Alice in the ribs. "She's only asking because she doesn't have a clue." The three of them laughed for a moment, until, one by one, they peeled off to an awkward silence.

It was Alice who broke the silence, wrinkling her nose with the inquiry, "Is something burning?"

Mel's eyes widened. "Ohmigosh, the eggs! Alice, be a lamb and take them off the stove, will you?"

Replying with a confident, "Right, no problem, Mel," Alice stepped between them and made straight for the kitchen.

"I'll say it again," said Janice, her sharp green eyes following Alice's retreat. "Good kid."

Mel made a noise of assent and bowed her head, gazing at a knothole in the plank floor. She had left her glasses inside, beside the kitchen sink, but she didn't need them to know that she, too, was an object of interest. "You must be anxious to get back to the dig."

The corner of Janice's mouth twitched. It wasn't often that the right answer and the tactful answer were one and the same; this would be no exception. "Anxious, no. Obliged, yes. There are people depending on me for their paychecks." 

"I guess," replied Mel as she traced the knothole's pattern with the toe of her shoe. 

Janice hooked her thumbs into her trouser pockets, drumming her fingers absently on her thighs as she struggled for a retort. "Professor Moffat's expecting a detailed inventory by Tuesday next."

"That soon?" Mel moved her gaze to Janice's face, a paler reflection of her own misery. 

"I'll need every spare minute to catalogue and pack the artifacts. If my luck holds, I should be back in Darwin no later than the 15th...Speaking of which..." She groped the pockets of her jacket, finally producing a battered business card. "This is the number of the hotel in Darwin where I'm staying..."

Mel turned the card over in her hand and squinted at the spiky script. "The Drake?"

"It's a dive," Janice elaborated wryly. "But the sheets are clean. Just call the front desk and ask for --"

"No phone." Mel held the card between her middle and index fingers. "Jack doesn't believe in them. And the radio's only got a range of a couple hundred miles."

Janice closed Mel's fingers around the card with the directive, "So? Shoot up a flare or send out a carrier pigeon..." She leaned in close and lowered her voice. "Think of me...I'll be here with bells on."

Won't you be awfully chilly? It was a pat response, coy, yet witty, and she'd almost said it aloud, so familiar were the rhythms of their conversation. Standing close enough to feel Janice's breath on her face, Mel was surprised at the effort it took to form a serious retort. "Don't you think it might be better if I came to you?" Even without her glasses, Mel could see Janice take a step back and set her jaw. "This isn't about logistics, you know. It's Jack." Mel paused, using the time to collect her thoughts. She walked the length of the verandah, settling comfortably into the glider before speaking. "He's been good to me, Janice."

Janice checked a molar with her tongue. "I know."

"He deserves better than --"

"A Dear John letter?" Sweet Mother of God, where did that come from? Janice stole a sideways glance at Mel, who regarded her with wide and wounded eyes. In the resulting silence, it was clear that each woman had made a conscious decision not to dwell on the remark. "I'd better make one last sweep of the house...Don't wanna forget anything." Without waiting for Mel to reply, Janice turned and disappeared into the house.

Chapter 15

Janice stood in the doorway, leather satchel swinging gently against her thigh as she scanned the spacious bedroom. It was a perfunctory act; she had everything. But having lingered noticeably longer in the house than it took to gather her possessions, the most she might be accused of was procrastination, which, she conceded, beat the hell out of cowardice. At last, she took a step backward into the hall, pulling the bedroom door shut behind her, leaving only memories in her wake.

She met Alice in the living room as the teen emerged from the kitchen with a small crate cradled between her good hand and her hip. "Got everything?"

Janice shrugged. "I'm leaving with more than I had when I arrived, so yeah, I'd say I have everything. Whatcha got there?"

Alice rested the crate on the back of the sofa and took inventory. Beside a bulging, but otherwise nondescript paper bag was the obvious. "Jug of fresh water; I saw that yours was bone dry."

"Thanks, kid. This for me, too?" Janice dropped the satchel at her feet and inspected the contents of the paper sack with a raised eyebrow and an appreciative whistle. "Holy Toledo...an apple, hard boiled eggs, cheese...I see all the food groups are represented. Did you do all this?"

Alice shook her head. "Mel. I expect she wants to make sure you don't go hungry."

"I expect," Janice echoed as she watched Alice juggle the crate with her uninjured hand. "Want me to take that?"

"Aw, no, I'm good." As she fell into step behind Janice, Alice said, "I wish you could stay on a bit longer. We hardly had a chance to talk at all."

Janice held the door open with the toe of her boot. "There'll be other opportunities."

"You mean it? You'll be back?"

Between roaming glances for the absent Mel, Janice tactfully replied, "I mean, you haven't seen the last of me." Her vantage point on the top step of the verandah afforded her an uninterrupted 180 degree view of the station and the surrounding bush, but her ability to see was hampered by the dazzling morning sun as it bounced off the Electra's gleaming fuselage. "You see Mel anywhere?"

Alice shaded her eyes with her free hand and squinted into the sun. "I see feet," she announced triumphantly. "On the other side of the plane..." She preceded Janice down the steps. "A dollar says she's plotting how to sabotage your departure."

"You'd lose your money, kid," Janice countered, fishing in her trouser pockets. "There's not a wicked bone in her body, trust me." Squinting at the broad face on her watch, she glowered her disapproval. There were hundreds of miles to be covered on the return flight to the dig site and every minute she delayed left the Electra to bake in the sun. During her pre?flight check an hour earlier, the thermometer inside the cockpit had registered 87. Eighty seven degrees before 9AM...somewhere in the world, that's a

crime. She pocketed the watch just as Mel emerged from around the nose of the aircraft. Acknowledging Mel's appearance with a smile, she struggled for something clever to say. "There you are." Covington, you wit, you! 

Mel ducked beneath the wing, sliding her hand, palm side up to remind herself just how little room there was between her head and potential injury. "I've just been havin' a look around your airplane. It's bigger than I thought at first." She frowned at her dirty fingertips. "And dirtier."

Janice set her jaw and quipped gently, "The maid doesn't come until Wednesday." She popped the fuselage door with some effort and lifted her satchel.

"That's a door," Mel announced, gesturing with her chin. "If you've got a door, why do you come and go from the cockpit?"

"The cargo hatch doesn't lock from the inside; you have to fight with it a little." Using a handhold built into the fuselage, Janice pulled herself onto the wing. "Alice, wanna get the chocks for me?" Wordlessly, Alice lifted the crate up to Janice and scrambled to unwedge the chocks. "I had a peek inside," Janice said, referring to the sack lunch. "Thank you. You didn't have to do that."

"I couldn't send you off to God?knows?where without somethin' to put in your stomach." Mel loosened another button on her blouse and pulled the material away from her damp skin with a rapid, fluttery motion. "If there was any way I could keep you here..."

"...you would. I know." Janice leaned as far into the cockpit as she was able to without losing her footing and let the supply crate drop to the floor with a noisy clatter. 

"To tell you the truth," Mel began coyly, "I did entertain wicked thoughts of puncturin' your tires." Janice reacted with genuine surprise, which prompted a further confession. "Or maybe puttin' a little sugar in your gas tank..."

Janice squatted in the wing valley to look Mel in the eye. "Sweet thought." She stole a kiss, catching Mel on the corner of the mouth. "And out here, it's called petrol...not gas." As Alice approached from the rear of the craft, Janice stepped onto the grounds of Coolinga Station for what was probably the last time. "Everything secure?"

"You're all set," replied Alice, stowing the chocks in the fuselage. She struggled with the door, putting weight behind her shoulder and irritation into her voice. "Close you damned thing!" 

"Alice Greenway," Mel cautioned, her hands set on her hips. "Whatever has become of your mouth? Make a sailor blush, I swear..."

"I'm sorry, Mel," replied Alice, genuinely contrite. She moved aside to allow Janice to secure the door. Under Mel's withering gaze, her only recourse was the lame excuse, "It just sort of... slipped out."

"Uh huh." Mel was dubious. The look she shot Janice was rife with reproach. 

"Hey, don't look at me." Janice surreptitiously put a dollar bill into Alice's hand. "You were right by the way." 

Alice enjoyed a conspiratorial wink at Mel's expense and stuffed the ill?gotten gains into a pocket. "Oh, strewth, almost forgot. I've got something for you, Janice."

"You didn't have to do that, kid," retorted Janice, though she was obviously moved.

"Well, it's not much...but I have to get it...inside..." Alice backed towards the house, scrubbing her hands on the backside of her dungarees. "I might be a few minutes..." she allowed pointedly before turning on her heel for the house.

"Now what was all that about?" asked Mel. 

"What was all what about?" Janice echoed innocently. "Excuse me," she said, easing Mel out of the way as she ran practiced hands over and around the port flaps, feeling for debris that might impede their function.

"Money changed hands...any particular reason?" 

"My, my, my...you are nosy," said Janice as she withdrew from the business of pre?flight checks. With deliberation, she plucked a handkerchief from her back pocket and wiped her hands. "Look, Mel, since the kid was thoughtful enough to give us a few minutes to ourselves, don't you think the time would be better spent ?"

"Sayin' goodbye." Mel was surprised at how much the words hurt. "I can't let you go, Janice...without first telling you how much I wish you would stay."

With a cautious glance towards the house, Janice took Mel by the hand and tugged her beneath the Electra's wing until they stood in its shade, out of the sun and away from curious eyes. "Mel, don't you know it's killing me to leave you here?"

"I know, I know," said Mel, blinking back tears. "I'm bein' unreasonable." 

"And I love you for it. The truth is the only way I can go is knowing that you'll follow me." Janice looked seriously into her lover's eyes. "You will follow me...right?"

Mel's smile was automatic, as was the hand which stroked Janice's cheek. "I'll arrange passage on a mail run to Darwin; as soon as I've squared things away with Jack, I'll join you there."

Swiping the hat from her head, Janice leaned blissfully into Mel's caress. "Kiss me, Mel...make me a believer..." The fedora dropped unnoticed to the ground.

"Well, twist m'arm why don'tcha?" Cradling Janice's face in her hands, Mel kissed her with thorough expertise. In response, possessive arms circled her waist, drawing her closer. She settled against the trim, compact body with a murmur of contentment. In such close proximity, she was acutely conscious of fragrance, of the taste and texture of lips as they glided over hers and the little sounds of pleasure as their tongues dueled. It was, Mel decided, a torturous sampling of the million nuances that made up the woman. She was keenly aware that when the kiss ended, they would have to part. It was incentive enough to linger in the embrace, to trace salty lips with her tongue, to impart tender pecks at the corners of a provocative smile. She could have died happy in that moment.

As it was, it was Janice's selfish need for air which broke the spell. She surfaced to catch her breath. Clasping Mel's hands in her own, she confessed, "I'm gonna miss you." 

Mel blushed warmly and retorted, "No you won't. You'll be busy with the dig and ??"

"Mel ??" Janice won the argument with a simple gesture of trust and affection; she placed one of Mel's hands inside her blouse, over her heart. "Do you feel that?" 

Mel nodded as the warm pulse beat a frenetic tattoo beneath her palm. "Beatin' like a trip hammer," she replied, her voice softly marveling. 

"You do that to me, Mel. It's not something a girl forgets."

"Why Janice Covington, beneath that leather jacket beats the heart of a romantic."

"Yeah, well, there are rumors of a bard somewhere in my ancestry." Janice plucked her hat from the ground and rapped it soundly against her thigh, stirring the dust from its brim. "What kind of person would I be if I couldn't call on that gift when my own words failed me?" 

Mel laughed. "Oh, well, that's profound."

Janice slipped out of her leather jacket and cast her eyes upward in mock piety. "I'm a deep person. Wear your waders." The report of the screen door as it slammed shut was so well timed it might have been calculated for effect. Had Janice not been reasonably certain that she and Mel could not be seen from the house, she might have called Alice on the carpet for spying. As it was, she had given them a generous five minutes together. It went without saying that neither woman had had enough time to say all that was on her mind. "Here she comes," she said, as the girl came tripping down the verandah steps with an item in each hand. Slinging her jacket over one shoulder, Janice advised, "Put on your party face, doll."

"You're so glib," quipped Mel, marshaling her public facade. "Teach me that."

"Another time." Conjuring up just the right note of enthusiasm, Janice greeted the approaching teen. "Hey, kiddo, I was beginning to think you weren't gonna turn out for the Big Goodbye scene."

"Oh, no," countered Alice, tucking a nondescript flat parcel beneath her arm. She thrust a hardbound volume at Janice. "This might be my only opportunity to get your autograph." She proffered a fountain pen. "Would you mind?"

Janice passed Mel her jacket and accepted the book. "The Xena Scrolls," she intoned. "No doubt plucked from its place of honor beneath the uneven sofa leg, eh?" She opened the book and flipped past the copyright and the acknowledgements to a page bearing the simple dedication: For Harry Covington. As the pen hovered above the paper, she looked at Alice from beneath the brim of her hat. "My first autograph."

Mel grinned and quipped, "Now that's not exactly true."

"Parking tickets don't count," replied Janice good?naturedly as she committed her signature to paper with short, economical strokes. She chased the wet ink across the page with a warm breath before returning the book with the self?deprecating remark, "There you go. Be the envy of all your friends."

Mel inspected the familiar spiky scrawl with a grin. "You do realize, Alice, that this will prob'ly bring down the value of the book?"

Alice chuckled, her eyes moving possessively over the signature on the page. "I'll take my chances." She closed the book and reached for the parcel beneath her arm. "Now, I have something for you." A sandwich of cardboard and paper filled the space between the grinning teenager and Janice. 

Gaulle's Premium Bond. Mel recognized the sketchpad as one of three she had purchased as a birthday gift for Alice the previous month; she made an educated guess regarding the contents. Assumptions aside, she held her breath as Janice lifted the flimsy cover to reveal the portrait which lay beneath rendered in raven black, stark white and muted shades of gray. 

"Wow," whispered Janice. She had, of course, seen the drawing before, but conceded that she had been too startled and preoccupied at the time to see it as anything more than evidence. Her opinion then had been tainted by guilt and, if she were to be honest with herself, fear. Her eyes ranged across the page, studying the two subjects, appreciating the nuances created by a sharp eye and a talented hand. She was, more than anything else, profoundly grateful that the moment had been captured...frozen in time...not by the unforgiving eye of the camera, but with those same qualities reflected in the artist ?maturity, affection...and innocence. She looked from the drawing to Alice and the delicate timbre of her voice surprised her. "This is swell, kid...I mean it. This is really something. I thought you didn't do people."

"Well, I don't normally. I'm not very good at them," replied Alice with a shrug. 

"That's not true at all. I think it's a wonderful gift," interjected Mel. "You've got real talent." 

"I had good subjects. You take it, Janice. I want you to have it."

"I will, but only if you'll sign it." Janice tilted the sketchpad and returned the pen. "Please."

Alice hesitated just a moment before uncapping the pen to scratch her signature across the bottom of the page. "Who knows? Maybe it'll be worth something some day."

Janice tweaked Alice's earlobe affectionately. "It's priceless now." Alice reddened at the compliment.

Mel slid an arm around Alice's shoulders and gave her an affectionate squeeze. "She blushes beautifully, don't you think?" 

"Aw, Mel."

Tucking the sketchpad beneath her arm, Janice exhaled. "Well...I suppose I can't put this off any longer."

Mel's smile dissolved into a tremulous line. "So soon?"

Janice swept a strand of hair behind her ear and manufactured an air of bravado she didn't feel in the least. "Mel, you give new meaning to the word procrastination." She watched as tears made determined progress down finely?sculpted cheekbones. Under a third party's scrutiny, Janice could not permit her gaze to linger; it was with barely?disguised regret that she shifted her eyes from Mel to Alice and rummaged

through her emotions for a smile. "Hug or a handshake?"

Alice extended her hand, determined to preserve the mood of composure and restraint; she hunted for just the right parting remark. Thumping the leather bound, newly?autographed first edition of The Xena Scrolls: Myth into History, she said, "I can't wait for the sequel."

Janice laughed. "You and me both, kid. Take care of yourself now. I expect big things from you."

Without further word, Alice smiled and backed away, clutching the book to her chest. From a distance, she watched Mel and Janice embrace briefly, exchange a few words...regrets and promises, or so she assumed; she had no burning desire to know the exact dialogue. As she mounted the verandah steps and wrapped her arm around a fat support post, she knew that, like any great film worth its salt, this story could be powerfully told in pictures alone. Janice's face, though partially obscured by the brim of her hat, was carefully set ??shining eyes and a grim smile. Her thumbs were hooked into her belt, her feet set apart ??like a derrick ??for stability. She was totally unreadable, except for the effect her presence had upon Mel, whose back was to her. Despite that, Alice had no trouble interpreting her posture ??arms clutching Janice's leather jacket to her chest, head dipping just slightly as her shoulders hitched. Crying. Love hurts, she decided. That was her first conclusion. It hurts, but people do it anyway. She made an audible sound of amazement. Until today she had only her parents as points of reference ??two lonely, grasping people who expressed their love for her at the top of their lungs, in mile high letters while sniping at one another from behind barricades of anger and recrimination. She was a prize to be won, and though their love for her was genuine, it was also somehow...selfish. 

Love, the way she saw it now, drawn in shades of discretion and restraint, was the whisper drowning out the scream, and the profound silences that follow a lingering touch. Love was the world writ small, two persons standing toe to toe in their last minutes together, scrambling for words as they endured a blistering sun...and an inquisitive audience. She dropped her gaze to the ground, suddenly more ashamed than curious. An ant crawled across the toe of her boot and she felt about that small.

"She still watchin'?"

Janice glanced surreptitiously over Mel's shoulder. "She's going into the house. She's curious, Mel; you can't blame her."

"All the same..." Mel lowered her head until her chin touched her chest. "I'll talk to her later...after..."

Janice shifted from one foot to the other. "Well, there can't be any 'after' if I don't leave, so..." She laid a hand on Mel's arm. 

Mel looked down at the fingers curled around her arm ?tanned and strong and only as possessive as she needed them to be at any given moment. "Janice, I...I just..." She choked back a sob; she had no words to describe her churning emotions. Sometimes, she lamented, the English language is a futile, clumsy encumbrance. 

Standing in the shadow of Mel's distress, Janice conceded that few things spoke more eloquently than profound silence. "Don't cry, Mel," she said quietly, diverting the tears with a strategic caress. "If I can't be around to kiss them away, they'll only go to waste." She tucked the flat of her thumb between her lips, savoring the suggestion of salt. "Now, I really gotta go." Her fingers curled around the collar of her jacket as it was crushed against Mel's chest and her voice was sweetly persuasive. "Mel, honey...my jacket?" 

"Oh. Sorry." Mel looked down at her hands, empty and trembling. "What am I gonna do when you're gone?"

Janice slung the jacket over her shoulder, where she held it by two fingers. "You'll hardly miss me."

"Only every minute of every day," Mel retorted.

"I love you. Now, go get out of the sun. Have one of those awful beers and think cool, pleasant thoughts."

Mel squeezed Janice's fingers. "I'll think of you," she replied earnestly. 

Janice loosed her grasp on Mel's hand and backed away a half dozen paces while her gaze remained fixed on her partner's face. "I'll see you in a few weeks."

Mel nodded, hands splayed on her hips as she turned towards the house. "Of course!" 

Of course. Janice threaded her fingers through the metal handhold in the Electra's fuselage and pulled herself aboard the broad expanse of wing. She flung her jacket through the open hatch, then took careful aim and let the sketchpad drop dead center of the pilot's seat where it fell open. The nagging, brutal truth that had been gnawing at her subconscious since awakening that morning rode upon a wave of hot, rank air rising from the cockpit interior. She felt a self?indulgent tide of anger swell in her chest. Standing with her arms braced against the hatch, her eyes fixed on the simple drawing, she felt more than heat, more than unwell...she felt...Betrayed. Even as the word rumbled around inside her head, she felt sick. Oh, God, Janice...you're almost outta here...a clean getaway...Leave it be! 

Going in search of Mel had been a pride?swallowing experience, but until this very moment, she had not acknowledged the depth of her humiliation. She blinked the sweat from her eyes. Blood hummed in her ears like static and although she was vaguely aware of Mel calling her name, she did not feel inclined to respond immediately. She swiped the hat from her head and dragged her forearm angrily across her eyes, over her brow, blotting sweat and tears alike; they were chemically similar. Both had bite. If she was going to live with herself, she knew she couldn't climb into that cockpit without first biting back.

"Janice, is somethin' the matter?"

Janice turned slowly, with deliberation to find Mel regarding her with polite confusion; she hadn't even heard her approach. She leaned against the fuselage, her hip to the searing metal ? the discomfort was just enough to keep her grounded and focused in the face of confrontation. Wordlessly, she walked the wing valley and perched on the edge where the trim was rounded over and most sturdy. Fanning her hat across her face, she regarded her lover with a gaze as remote as the moon. 

Finding herself on the receiving end of a particularly unnerving stare, Mel's fingers grazed Janice's boot, enveloping the slim but sturdy ankle in an anxious grip. After an interminable silence spent searching Janice's face with mild concern, she trolled for a response. "Y'alright?"

Tenting the fingers of her right hand against the hot steel, Janice vaulted gracefully to the ground. "Since you asked...no." Without offering an immediate explanation, she stuffed her hands into her trouser pockets, turned from Mel's puzzled gaze and walked the length of the wing in silence. She stopped at the wingtip and stood in a dwindling puddle of shade as her eyes sought some intangible target in the distance.

Mel put her hands on her hips and pursed her lips. Although she was clearly perplexed by Janice's behavior, she was also obliged to indulge it. After all, the woman had crossed two continents looking for her ??at the very least she owed her patience. "Take a moment. We've got nothin' but time," she said as Janice ground her boot heel into the earth as if extinguishing a lit cigar. 

Janice studied her boots for a moment longer, aware that she, too, was the object of scrutiny. She could feel Mel's gaze beat down upon her with all the commitment of the rising sun; that kind of love was palpable, unstoppable. At least she hoped so. She dragged hot air over her teeth and deeply into her lungs before turning to speak. "Standing here, looking at you, a lot of things go through my mind." Mel's befuddled smile encouraged her to continue. "I can think of a thousand words to describe how you make me feel at any given moment, but here...right now one word stands out: trust. I don't...I don't trust you, Mel...anymore." There, I said it. God, I said it! Don't think, Janice, just talk. "I know this comes out of the blue, especially after last night, but the truth is, I wanted you back so badly that nothing else mattered ?? I had you in my arms ??I could put blinders on when it came to the rest." 

Over the liquid thud of her heart, Mel stammered, "I hurt you. I know that. I'm so sorry." 

Janice covered the distance between them in deliberate strides and lay a finger softly against her lips, she let her tears speak for her. "Don't apologize," said Janice, her voice taking on the flat, impersonal qualities of emotional self?preservation. She watched in mute fascination as tears again welled in Mel's eyes, reflecting her own miserable countenance in limpid pools briefly before a combination of surplus and gravity sent them cascading down the peaks and valleys of that finely chiseled face. "I don't want an apology, Mel," she reiterated, letting her hand drop to her side. "What I want is your word that it won't happen again. You ripped my heart from my chest once...and for a long time it was all I could do to haul my butt out of bed on a daily basis."

Mel swiped at the tears dribbling down her cheeks as she held Janice's stare fearlessly. "What can I say to you when my word is no longer good enough?"

Janice held up her hands defensively. "All I'm saying is that I would rather part here on my own terms than wake up one morning ?? a month, or six months, or a year from now to find your side of the bed empty. I couldn't live through a repeat performance."

"I deserved that." Mel pinched the bridge of her nose, gazing at Janice as clearly as her astigmatism would permit. "If I am a lifetime rebuilding your trust in me, I have no one but myself to blame. But I swear to you, on my daddy's head that I will be there, Janice." 

In counterpoint to her wildly beating heart, Janice's face was a carefully subdued mask. "Alright." She exhaled, leaving suggestions of doubt and bitterness to linger in the air between them. "Don't disappoint me, Mel. If you do, you'll regret it...not because I'll come looking for you..." She settled the fedora deeper on her head. "...but because I won't." 

"I will never again put you in that position, Janice," Mel said, her voice resonant with obligation and resolve.

Janice narrowed her eyes and the little smile that touched her lips was almost wistful. "I want to believe you, Mel."

"And I want to be believed." Mel smiled, her blue eyes crinkling amiably at the corners. "Where the two flow together you fish, right?"

Suppressing a laugh, Janice scratched behind her ear. "Well, it's a good place to start anyway." Love may not make the world go 'round, she thought, but it sure as hell puts a spin on things. After a moment's hesitation, she hooked her thumb over her shoulder. "Look, I'd better be going." 

Mel drummed her fingers along her hips. "No more bombs to drop?"

Janice could sense that she was only half?kidding and retorted with a cautious wink. "It's early yet." Without further delay, she pulled herself aboard the wing.

"I'm not gonna say 'goodbye'," Mel called from the ground. When Janice turned to face her she said, "I'm gonna say see you soon."

"And I am gonna hold you to that." She climbed aboard the hatch, legs dangling in the sweltering heat of the cockpit while the superheated fuselage bled aggressively through the seat of her pants; there would be no unnecessary lingering. "Stand back now, Mel."

Mel stepped clear of the plane, shading her eyes with one hand as she searched for Janice's face in the sun. "I love you!" she called. 

As Janice turned for the pre?requisite last glance, all of the cool resolve she had worked so hard to sustain melted away in a fond glance. "I'm counting on it!" She tossed a wave over her shoulder and slipped into the cockpit, mindful of the truth spread open at her feet. She closed and locked the hatch behind her and hung her jacket over the back of the co?pilot's chair. She propped the opened sketchpad in the seat, according it a place of prominence where its beauty could be savored and its promise anticipated. 

The warm pilot's seat felt strangely agreeable as it molded itself to the backs of her thighs and the small of her back, cradling her in its pliable leather embrace. She mashed her thumb down repeatedly on the fuel line to prime the engines. With the key in the ignition she turned on the master switch and the engines coughed to life on the first attempt. I must be livin' right. She drew her lap belt taut, opened the throttle and checked her peripherals ?starboard and port ?as the Electra began to trundle down the runway. For a fleeting moment, Mel's figure, poised on the verandah, filled the frame of the port window ?hands on her hips, midnight hair trailing in the Electra's propwash. It was a memory as indelible as any photograph.

Three weeks. It would be a lifetime. 

The End 

[faveficarchive]

Home Fires (Part 1 Cont.)

By Christine "Roo" Toups

LOVE/SEX WARNING/DISCLAIMER: This story depicts a love/sexual relationship between two consenting adult women. If you are under 18 years of age or if this type of story is illegal in the state or country in which you live, please do not read it.

Carelessly, words and music by C. Kenny/N.Kenny/N. Ellis used without permission. 

NOTE: © copyright 2000 One Bard Writin'

Chapter 7 

Mel had taken up a position at the front door, her nose inches from the screen. On the other side, black flies buzzed and knitted their legs against the tightly?woven metal, and beyond the flies, under the searing outback sun, Alice said her farewells to Dinah. She couldn't make out the words, but the gestures ?hands swiping at tears, a last lingering embrace ?spoke volumes. Neville Bonner, his dark face an impassive mask, endured in silence the girlish expressions of sadness and regret, but as his daughter dropped her arms to her sides at last, he stepped forward and took Alice by the shoulders. Mel watched as he spoke earnestly to her, gesturing once towards the house before placing his rough, dry lips against her forehead. Mel regretted that her position did not afford her a better view of Alice's face as Dinah moved away, walking backwards in her father's shadow returning Alice's wave before turning into the sun. 

The solitary figure left standing by the plane placed her hands on her hips, her chest rising and falling in a long sigh of resignation. She turned and walked towards the house. Mel watched them, the retreating figures of Dinah and her father, and Alice as she approached the door; she was impressed that neither girl turned to look back at the other. She pushed the door open as Alice stepped onto the verandah, aware that she was probably the last person in the world the girl wanted to see at this moment.

"Thanks," Alice murmured as she brushed past Mel on her way to the kitchen.

Thanks? Okay, scan for sarcasm. Nothing. Mel closed the heavy door with care, and even before she pushed through the swinging kitchen door, she could hear the clatter of silverware being drawn from drawers.

Alice had spread a good quality lace cloth on the table beneath windows that opened onto a view of the paddock and windmill. As she carefully laid out the silver, the great knife on the outside, fork on the inside debate raged in her head. She heard Mel enter the room, and without looking up, she said, "You might want to check your bread."

Mel reacted as if startled. "My bread...?" A quick glance inside the oven. "Oh, my..." Using a couple of paper thin pot holders, she carefully moved the baking pan from oven to butcher's block. "I think it's alright," she said, poking the golden crust with a finger. "You just narrowly averted a disaster." Alice conjured up a smile and collected three mismatched plates from the cupboard. As she passed Mel to set the table, she was humming. "Just two place settings, Alice."

Alice turned the plates flat against her middle. "Am I sent to bed without supper?"

"I don't know what they're servin' at the corroboree," replied Mel quietly, moving the length of the kitchen. "Probably somethin' still wigglin'" She took the plates from Alice's hands and addressed her seriously, so there was no misunderstanding. "We'll miss your company at supper."

"You mean it?" Her face lit up with a jaw?breaking grin. "Aw, Mel, you're the best!"

Mel held up her hands in an attempt to stem the tide of enthusiasm. "Hold your horses now...Go splash some water on your face and run a brush through your hair..." She followed Alice into her bedroom, all the while issuing advice and directives. "I declare...you look like a ragamuffin. And you have Mr. Bonner walk you back afterwards. I don't care how late it is. I won't sleep a wink until you're back safe and sound."

"Can't I stay the night?" Alice dragged a brush through her hair, from roots to end. "Since it's Dinah's last night here...I could be home first thing in the morning."

Mel exhaled wearily. "I must have 'sucker' written all over my face. Alright," she conceded, jabbing an index finger at Alice's chest. "But you be home bright and early."

Alice tossed the brush onto her cluttered bureau and presented herself for inspection: dusty chambray work shirt, khaki slacks rife with horse hair and sweat. "Look alright?"

Mel knew her opinions didn't matter one way or the other, but she thought it sweet of the girl to ask. "You'll do...Better run if you wanna catch up to them."

"Strewth, yes!" Alice barreled out her bedroom door with the enthusiasm of a freshman fullback, leaving Mel rooted to the spot by sheer disbelief. 

"Not so much as a thank you. Well..." She turned to leave and saw Alice's dirty battered hat, with its sweat?stained kangaroo?hide band, lying brim down on the bed. "Honestly," she said, picking it up. "Forget her head if it wasn't attached." She shrugged and caught her reflection in the mirror, breathing genuine surprise into the word, "Sucker."

"Hey, Mel?" Alice's reflection joined hers in the mirror. "I ?"

"Forgot your hat," Mel finished for her as she settled the hat atop Alice's head, tilting it first to one side, then to the other, then back until it sat jauntily on the crown of her head. "Oh, well, you wear it however you like." 

"I wanted to say thank you, Mel." Alice straightened the hat, and in the ensuing silence, she could tell that her expression of gratitude had caught Mel off guard. "Those should have been the first words out of my mouth. I just wanted you to know that I really appreciate this, and I promise," she elaborated, her words taking on the weight of a blood oath. "Not one word of this will ever reach my mother's ears."

"Better not," Mel cautioned, smiling crookedly. "Or you'll have company in the dog house." She tucked an errant strand of hair behind Alice's ear and ran her finger the length of a strong jaw; although Pappas family etiquette warranted a greater display of affection, she knew that not everyone was comfortable with such things. "Okay, scoot."

Alice stepped back, eager to be on her way and yet careful not to offend Mel with a too rapid exit. "You're okay, Mel."

Mel laughed. "The most tolerable in a long line of fiancées?"

"The most," Alice agreed, backpedaling from the room before turning and gaining momentum as she plunged through the screen door, heedless of the explosive return as it fell, unchecked, back to its jamb. * * * * * * * * * * CHHH?POK! Janice sat bolt upright, sending a small tidal wave over the side of the tub. She had drifted off in her tepid, wet cocoon only to awaken abruptly to the sound of a gunshot.  Oh, Jesus. She's killed her. She put the soap, which had refused to lather in the hard water, back into the soap dish and stood up in the tub, murky water running off her well?toned body in sheets. She wrapped the large bath towel around her as she heard the bedroom door open. "Mel?" As there wasn't a shy bone in her body, Janice stepped around the corner and breathed a sigh of relief. "Mel...are you okay? I thought I heard a ?" 

"The door. Remember?" Mel cast a lingering glance over Janice's exposed body. There was little she hadn't seen ? in half light, in Braille in the dark ? but this was different. Full afternoon sunlight was cascading through the bedroom windows, bouncing off the damp blonde hair, soaking into the golden skin of her exposed legs and shoulders. Mel tilted her head; she didn't remember that little starburst?shaped scar on Janice's collarbone; it looked new. She had an almost uncontrollable urge to kiss it.

Janice was encouraged to be the subject of such thorough scrutiny, and so it took a supreme effort to pull the towel tightly around her and tuck a corner into her cleavage. She even managed to conjure up a suitably flustered expression. "Hey, how would you feel if I looked at you that way?"

Flattered. Mel blushed, and her eyes instantly found other targets on the floor of the room. "I'm sorry. I just came in..." She bent and gathered a discarded pair of jodhpurs and the grimy white blouse. "...to collect these. I'm startin' a load of wash."

"Mel, you don't have to do that...Matter of fact, I'd prefer it if you left the blouse especially. I don't have a clean one to wear."

"Well, if you think I am going to let you sit down at my supper table in this ?" she held the blouse away from her body, out of respect for her nose. "You have another think comin'." She added the white brassiere to the pile in her arms.

"Aw, no, not that, too! C'mon, Mel...what am I supposed to do?" She threw up her hands. "Turn up in a towel?"

Mel backed towards the door, a quirky smile on her face. "Well, dinner will be informal."

Janice put her hands on her hips. "Don't tempt me, sweetheart." 

Mel moved towards the open bedroom door, turning at the threshold. "I'll find you something to wear. Alice probably has somethin' that'll fit you. Be right back."

Janice dropped onto the bed and crossed her legs, the towel riding up to mid thigh. "So help me, she brings me anything with cute little animals on it, I'll be sick," she muttered, her fingers tented open on either side of her, testing the spring of the mattress. She hadn't slept in a bed in five weeks, and the clean linens and firm mattress were like a siren's call. She fell lazily backwards, eyes closed, with her hands cradling her head.

That's how Mel found her minutes later. She stood in the doorway, a starched white blouse dangling from the fingers of one hand, while those of the other established a deathgrip on the doorknob. There was nothing furtive in her observation; Janice need only look up to see her. In the end, it was precisely the idea of those jade green eyes opening and fixing on her own that prompted Mel to slip the clean blouse over the inside doorknob and leave the room. 

Padding down the hall, mindful of the report of her heels on the hardwood floor, she wondered at her attraction to Janice Covington, a woman with a bit of dash and a predilection for hazard. She was a cynical, brilliant archeologist with the gift of keen insight. The image of Janice, stretched out on her bed clad only in a towel, crept into her mind, and she chased it away as counter-productive to her current retrospection. 

That was her gift - to be able to switch mindsets in milliseconds and to concentrate her intellect on one thing exclusively. She made an audible sound of amusement as she entered the kitchen. Wonder who I got that from?  Her own background consisted of mostly?absentee parents; she had been raised by an affectionate grandmother, with only occasional input from her mother. There had been select boarding schools in the Carolinas, and she was an alumnus of the college where her father had been dean. Although she was not without intelligence, she had to concede that she had traded on the family name and her father's reputation more often than she cared to admit. The name Melvin Pappas, mentioned in the right circles, opened doors and minds alike. And after his accidental death on a dig in March of 1940, she had flown to Istanbul, at her mother's request, to close his affairs. Chief among those duties had been replying to unanswered correspondence. There had been stacks of letters, unopened bills, and a dozen yellowed telegrams, one of which led her to Macedonia where a hail of bullets awaited her. In the end, it had been her father's good name, dropped in the receptive ear of Dr. Janice Covington that led her back to the half-nude vision recumbent on her bed. She didn't know whether to curse her father or to thank him.

She gave the bread a half an hour to rest and used her time well, slicing the veal thin and layering it upon a garishly?painted platter. She ladled new potatoes and au jus over the meat and placed a few sprigs of parsley along the perimeter, hiding the chain of purple daisies that bordered the platter. Along with the bread and the fresh green beans she'd prepared, there were green olives and sweetbreads like her grandmother used to make. It was a great deal of food. She and Alice would be dining on leftovers for a week. She took the platter to the table then lay a small dish of fresh butter beside the bread. After folding the linen napkins in a fan pattern, she swapped the placement of knives and forks and stood back to admire the table. "Well, it's not Delmonico's, but it'll have to do." 

"It all looks and smells marvelous, Mel."

Mel jumped, her hand to her heart. "Janice...I didn't hear you come in. Did you have a nice nap?" 

Janice shrugged and dug her hands into the front pockets of her slacks, feeling decidedly ill at ease in the borrowed blouse, which fit well about the waist and shoulders, but cut her just slightly across the bustline. It gave her a modicum of comfort to know that she couldn't slip effortlessly into the clothes of a thirteen year old girl. "You couldn't resist, could you?" 

Mel's eyes jumped from the firm breasts beneath the straining buttons to Janice's face too quickly to disguise what could only be described as honest-to-goodness lust. "Beg pardon?"

Janice fingered the colorful embroidery just above her left breast. Whomever the seamstress was, she had been a true artisan - the words St. Ignatius' School for Young Ladies were plainly visible in Shelley?Volante font?style. "Is this your idea of a joke?"

Mel couldn't suppress a laugh. "Janice, honestly, I never even bothered to look. I chose that one because it's cut large." Janice merely grunted her displeasure and screwed her face into a scowl. "Would you rather it were emblazoned Our Lady of Perpetual Debauchery?"

Janice folded her arms across her chest. "Honestly? Yes." She smiled wryly and, in doing so, changed the whole complexion of the conversation. "But I suppose it'll have to do."

"You are truly magnanimous, Dr. Covington. Would you care to be seated?" 

Mel held out a chair, indicating that Janice should take what was traditionally the head of the household's seat. The implication was not lost on Janice. "Only two place settings?" she inquired as she pulled the chair up to the table. "Alice not joining us?"

"I sent her on to the party." Mel opened the icebox. "It seemed the thing to do if I wanted to live with myself." 

Janice swiveled in the chair and crossed one leg over the other. "Was she being difficult?"

"Just the opposite," came the muffled reply as Mel groped about in the icebox. "She was civil and mature." She poked her head above the door and narrowed her eyes at Janice. "You know how that grates on me."

"She's got you here, Mel," chided Janice, displaying an upturned pinky finger. "Admit it."

"I knew I could count on you to be sympathetic and understandin'. Remind me again why I asked you to supper?"

"Because maybe you missed me..." She pinched her thumb and forefinger together. "...maybe just this much?"

Rather than confirm or deny Janice's intimation, Mel opted to change the subject. "What would you like to drink?"

"What've you got?"

Mel moved items from front to side, clearing a path for her reach. "Simply everythin'. There's milk and lemon squeeze...water, tea...oh, and some perfectly awful local beer." Mel displayed an unlabeled amber bottle. "I think it's bottled in a woolshed someplace. I don't recommend it."

"That'll do." Janice crossed the floor and took the bottle from Mel. Having been at the very back of the icebox for some time, it was half frozen, just the way she liked it. "You know me: I like living dangerously." She held the bottle up to the light as she walked back to the table and judged the meager amount of sediment floating within to be acceptable. 

"Why don't you put on some music?" Mel, her hands occupied with condiments, gestured with her chin to a standing oak phonograph beneath a curio shelf.

"Any preferences?" Janice asked, as she raised the battered lid of the phonograph. "I think I spoke too soon." She picked up a sleeveless 78 with more care than it had previously been shown in its lifetime. "We have a very scratchy copy of...ooh, Noel Coward." She made a face as she looked at Mel. "I think I was ten when this was recorded."

"The phonograph was a wedding gift...for Jack and Peggy." Mel popped the cap from Janice's beer and began serving the veal. "I think those albums are probably original to it."

"Billie Holiday," Janice crooned. She removed the slick black record from its sleeve with care and held it by her fingertips. "With Teddy Wilson. Naw, Mel, this is relatively new." It wasn't just new, it was pristine, and had, in fact, probably never been played at all, very likely due to the color of the artist. Considering what little she knew of Peggy Greenway and her narrow opinion of the Aborigines, she marveled that the album had been allowed in the house at all. "You Go To My Head, More Than You Know..." Song titles that might have easily been describing Mel, a possibility that was given further credence by the next song title: Them There Eyes. She looked to the table, where Mel had taken the chair kitty corner from her own, and seated the record beneath the needle, setting the volume to 3 on the dial. She opened the double doors on the phonograph's face to reveal the speaker as You Go To My Head opened with a combustible alto sax. She was sitting beside Mel shaking the napkin into her lap as a clarinet riff paved the way for Holiday's one?of?a?kind vocal stylings. The timbre was just a touch cynical, and Janice knew, without actually knowing Holiday personally, that she had been burned at love before. "This is nice, Mel," she murmured, feeling decidedly warm beneath the thin blouse. She looked down at her plate, trisected neatly with meat, starch and vegetable, all carefully prepared by a talented cook, and yet nothing looked as enticing as the woman seated across the table from her.

"Janice..." Mel turned an anticipatory gaze on her guest. "You aren't eating."

"Savoring the moment, Mel," Janice replied. She sliced into her veal with enthusiasm, but it was all for show. Food no longer held any interest for her. Mel's proximity had whetted a different kind of appetite. She lay the knife across the edge of the plate, dropped her free hand into her lap and speared the vaguely rare meat with a fork. When she looked up, she found Mel's eyes waiting, alight. Before she had taken one bite of veal, she was already anticipating dessert. 

Chapter 8 

"...sandstone ramparts hundreds of feet high, miles wide, pockmarked with caves." Janice absently swirled the warm beer at the bottom of the bottle. "But you know something, Mel, and this might be the beer talking, but I think it's the sort of dig I could just walk away from. The whole place just has a...a feel about it...more churchyard than graveyard."

"Kakadu's a spiritual place," Mel replied. "Small wonder you're uncomfortable. Your workers...are they local to Kakadu?" Janice nodded. "There's your problem." The serving fork hovered over the meat platter, targeting a slice of veal. "More veal?"

Janice waved her hand, fending off a third helping. "It's standard practice to employ the natives, Mel."

"You haven't found anything they didn't permit you to find. The real finds, the genuine rarities will elude you as long as you use locals to point the way." Mel tucked an olive between her perfect white teeth before sucking the pimento from its salty green blanket.

Janice was entranced, holding the last sip of beer in her mouth briefly before swallowing. "And what would you have done differently? Hire outsiders?"

Mel lifted an eyebrow. "If I had taken the job, then, yes, I would have imported a crew, but that's a moot point, Janice. The dig is yours." She laid her fork and knife across the plate, signaling an end to the meal, and to the discussion.

But Janice was persistent. "Why didn't you take the job, Mel? You were local; you were Moffat's first choice ??"

"Because I was local and for no other reason." Mel folded her napkin in quarters before tucking it beneath the edge of her plate. "Jack said it was probably because I work cheap, and it's true. I would've paid Moffat for the pleasure of headin' the dig."

"Instead, here you sit...one of a handful of warm bodies in a three hundred mile radius." Janice's voice held the unmistakable edge of sarcasm as she quipped, "Flies, heat, isolation: I can see what you like about it." Further conversation on the dubious virtues of the outback faded away on the dying strings of a violin passage. For a moment there was only the ghost of a heartbeat, the rhythmic thump thump thump of the needle as it rode the groove of dead air between tracks before sliding into the last song on the record. Carelessly, Janice's personal favorite on an album full of memorable tunes, began with the incomparable piano work of Teddy Wilson. Two beers brave, carelessly might also have described the way she looked Mel in the eye and said, "So tell me about Jack."

Mel pursed her lips and sat up straight, lacing her fingers around her water glass. Her eyes held Janice whole as she groped for a response. One of the advantages of outback isolation had been the almost total lack of peer judgment. Unfortunately, that same isolation left her unprepared to field even the most harmless inquiries about her relationship with Jack. "What's there to say? He's divorced as you know...a cargo pilot in the RAAF...He's 42..." She let her voice trail off, giving the impression that she had imparted all that she knew about the man. 

"Forty two..." Janice whistled softly, one short note of disbelief as she enjoyed Mel's discomfort. "What does he look like?"

"Dark hair, dark eyes...tall...my head fits just beneath his jaw when we dance," Mel replied with a little smile as a memory warmed her. In the smoky warmth of a first floor hotel room in Athens - champagne on the bedside table, Cole Porter on the radio, and a crown of honey?blonde hair tucked neatly beneath her chin while warm breath traveled the valley between her breasts and four bare feet interlocked, puzzle pieces on a hardwood floor... Indelible little details of first?time foreplay. The memory was so vivid, yet made painful by the realization that that life was behind her.

"He's tall, I got that much." Janice's fingers beat a lazy tattoo on the empty beer bottle. "What else? How did the two of you meet?" Mel stood abruptly, taking up her plate and glass. "Mel?" Her eyes followed Mel's retreating form across the kitchen. "What's wrong?"

"Nothin's wrong," Mel replied, as she stacked the dinner plates by the sink. "I don't understand your interest in Jack, that's all. Another beer?" 

Janice waved a hand dismissively. "Hey, you brought him up. Besides, I think I deserve to know a little bit about the man. After all, I'm sitting in his chair...eating his food..."

"Sleepin' in his bed...Goldilocks." Mel returned to the table for the meat platter. 

"Speaking of sleeping in his bed ?" Janice began pointedly. "How is he in that area?"

Mel's jaw dropped noticeably. "I don't know why I'm surprised you asked that. With your ego, you'd be forever beggin' comparison."

Janice laughed, but there was no heart in it. "I have a healthy ego, as you pointed out."

"With good reason," Mel replied as she turned away. "You spoiled me for any future lovers."

"And that's a bad thing?" 

"It is, yes," said Mel. "When you're tryin' to start a new life."

Janice shrugged. "What was so wrong with the old one?" A reply was not immediately forthcoming. Mel's back was to her, but Janice could see her hands were still and her head was down. "Mel?"

"He's a dear, dear, man, Janice." Mel began quietly. "He's kind, sympathetic, funny. I don't know where I would be if I hadn't met him when I did."

Janice fought to keep her composure. "You mean it was just a matter of timing."

"In a way...yes." At the butcher's block, Mel wrapped the leftover veal in waxed paper, secretly relieved to have something to do with her hands. "We met the very day my steamer docked in Sydney Harbor. I was comin' down the ramp, he was seein' his niece off. I broke a heel off my shoe and would've pitched right over the side if he hadn't been there."

"A real Sir Galahad," mumbled Janice, although it occurred to her, somewhat cynically, she conceded, that the niece Jack had been seeing off at the dock was very likely not his niece at all. Naturally, she was alone in her suspicions. 

"He insisted I share his cab, waited with me while my shoe was repaired and bought me a lovely supper." Mel slid the wax package into the icebox and stood in the open doorway, savoring the chill air on her body. "It was the best possible introduction to the country."

"Better than gunfire and death threats?" quipped Janice with mock surprise. 

"I know that tone, Janice," said Mel, moving reluctantly from the icebox to the table. "And it sounds suspiciously like jealousy." 

"Not at all," replied Janice, quick to dismiss the notion. "On second thought, I will take another beer." She rose from her chair. "You want a beer, Mel?" She could feel Mel's eyes pursue her into the kitchen.

"You don't have to be jealous, Janice." Mel's voice was kind and soothing, and she meant well, but she couldn't help saying the wrong thing as a general rule. "You're not in competition with Jack."

"I know that, and I am not jealous." Janice opened and closed the icebox without removing anything. "What I am is hot. It's hot in here."

From her place at the table, Mel gazed out the window where the windmill cast long shadows upon the hard?baked ground, blood?red in the twilight. "Sun's settin'...Why don't we take this conversation out to the verandah...where it's cool?" She switched off the phonograph and closed the cover. 

"Peachy." Janice bit back a more acidic retort, dismayed at the possibility of an in?depth conversation on the merits of her rival. Perhaps rival was not the right word, although it had seemed appropriate enough during the long flight to Coolinga. But now...here she was, a guest in Jack Greenway's home, where his personality permeated everything as surely as a sponge soaks up water. His��chair. His food. His woman. She followed Mel from the room, convinced that any hopes of a reconciliation were about to be finally and irrevocably dashed to pieces. 

At the foyer, Mel continued out to the verandah, while Janice excused herself to visit the bathroom. She splashed water on her face and patted it dry with a hand towel, studying her fractured reflection in the cracked mirror as she did so. She had come to Coolinga convinced she would find Mel miserable, aching for the lover she left behind, but their reunion had been on the tepid side of passionate at best. Still, she was certain Mel had warmed to the idea of her presence. The woman had baked her sourdough bread. Sourdough bread, for Chrissakes! "If that isn't love, what is?" She was surprised to hear genuine confusion in her voice; she was unaccustomed to the feeling. 

All her adult life she had been able to have her way, whether by skill, wits or sheer force of will. In a field rampant with male counterparts, she was unique and notable for far more than her gender. By age 25, she had made enough money to live comfortably and to have the luxury to pick and choose the archeological commissions which most interested her. With her gifts, came hard?won notoriety; she had the respect of her peers. What she didn't have, however, was what she wanted most. Ain't that always the way? 

She pushed away from the counter and knelt on the bedroom floor to root through her satchel. To her relief, she found the object of her search nestled discreetly in a cocoon of woolen socks. Squat at the bottom, rising in a tall, graceful neck, the dark amber, 94 proof Tennessee Sipping Whiskey was the only Jack she was interested in at the moment. It had originally been intended as a gift to soothe the ruffled feathers of a mechanic to whom she owed money, but she would have to find another way around him. She broke the seal on the bottle, intending to down a generous swig or two before joining Mel on the verandah. She hefted the bottle carefully, almost reverently, tasting the full, sweet flavor of burnt caramel and vanilla at the back of her throat before a single drop of whiskey had touched her lips. 

Tapping, and her name uttered as a hiss. "Janisssss."

Janice opened her eyes, a revelation in itself, since she hadn't been conscious of closing them. Across the room, on the opposite side of a six?paned window, Mel rapped on the glass with her knuckle. She had seen the bottle, but there was no reproach in her voice as she said, "Bring that...and two glasses... and hurry, or you'll miss it!" she beckoned, conveying a sense of urgency before stepping out of view, leaving confusion in her wake.

Miss it. Miss what? Janice stopped in the parlor to collect two heavy glass tumblers from the sideboard and made her way onto the verandah, successfully navigating the explosive screen door without dropping her kit. Using the toe of her boot, she eased the door closed and looked for Mel, who was conspicuously absent. "Mel?" She set the whiskey and glasses down on a sturdy wicker table and sighed heavily, her frustration evident. "Where'd you go?"

Mel poked her head around the corner of the porch. "Over here...come see!"

Janice walked the length of the porch, her curiosity snuffling ahead of her like a keen beagle. Rounding the corner of the house, facing to the south, she saw Mel standing poised, dead center of the front stoop. Her head was tilted slightly back, and her mouth was opened in unabashed wonder. "What is it? If it's a dingo, I've seen plenty of those."

"Try not to sound so jaded, Janice Covington, and come here," Mel hissed reproachfully, fanning one hand to her, gathering the smaller woman under her shoulder. "Now," she whispered, as if more volume were an intrusion. "Stand just here..." She stepped back and guided Janice into her place on the worn gray boards. "Do you see it?"

Janice exhaled wearily, her eyes scanning the horizon, left to right, from soft sage and violet to a vivid spectrum of crimsons and yellows. It was breathtaking, and it wasn't a dingo. Points for Mel. "Yes," she whispered, trying to convey her pleasure. "It's beautiful, Mel." She felt warm fingers at her temples and a gentle upward pressure; unconsciously, she found herself leaning back into the support provided by Mel's lanky frame. She could feel two firm breasts, peaked, at attention, against the sensitive skin of her shoulder blades. She might have reveled in that feeling indefinitely if her breath hadn't been snatched without warning from her chest. Directly above her and to her left, divided by a line of native wattles, the sky was clear with a quarter moon and a blanket of dazzling stars; and to the right, off?set just slightly by the sagging tin roof of the house, the sun was setting, wallowing gloriously in the foothills, bathing the gums and mulga in raw, homespun gold. Day and night sharing the sky at the same moment. It was, Janice conceded, the oddest, most beautiful of dichotomies.

"It happens every sunset." Mel's mouth was just inches from Janice's ear, so close her breath stirred the tiny wisps of hair at her nape. "...a few minutes later every day. I find myself standin' out here, where you're standin' now...waiting. I know that must seem foolish to you, but I suppose I'm a simple woman."

Janice turned to face Mel, careful to maintain the physical and emotional connection that had been created. "You're not simple at all...you're a damned pioneer, Mel." She left those fathomless cerulean pools to turn her own eyes skyward again. "I mean, look at it..." The last vestiges of light were leaving the land, being replaced by a creeping carpet of mauve and ebony. It stole Janice's breath the way few things could. "I've been living in this land for six weeks...sleeping under the stars, and do you know, it never once occurred to me that this place had anything new to show me. How thick is that, I ask you?"

"Pretty thick," Mel echoed with a grin. She dropped her hands to her sides, unintentionally skimming Janice's hips as she did so. "Oh, sorry." I'm not. Janice turned on her heel. "I got whiskey, remember?" At the little wicker table, she opened the bottle and turned to Mel, who had taken a seat on a wooden glider. "How do you take it? On the rocks? With water?"

Mel countered brightly, "Oh, however you like it is fine."

"Two fingers. Neat." She passed Mel a tumbler and seated herself in an old bleached rocker that overlooked the wide expanse of horizon. Shaking out her damp hair, she took her first sip of whiskey...center cut, her father had called it...like the heart of a good watermelon...strong and flavorful and just what she needed. She sighed contentedly and stretched her legs out, crossing them at the ankles. The sun was a molten sliver on the horizon, and the worst of the day's heat was over at last. Trees growing by the verandah were full of sparrows and finches twittering in concert with their counterparts inside the small aviary. Somewhere to her left, just beyond the hangar, a dingo howled. She was primed to notice everything, most especially the woman she loved, sitting across from her, making a face as she swallowed her whiskey in one gulp. Janice raised both eyebrows inquiringly as Mel choked. "Uh, Mel? You might want to take it easy there..." 

Mel screwed her eyes shut, sputtered and nodded rapidly, holding her glass in front of her. "May I have..." cough "...another, please?"

Janice left her glass on the arm of the rocker and retrieved the whiskey bottle. "This is sipping whiskey, Mel...say it with me...sip?ping?whis?key..." She held the bottle over Mel's empty glass. "If you're not accustomed to it, it'll bite you back." Mel lifted her glass until it clinked against the bottle. "Okay, suit yourself." She refilled the glass, unable to shake the impression that Mel seemed to be marshaling her courage, fortifying herself for some earth?shattering admission. "What's on your mind?" she asked, giving voice to her thoughts; she toyed briefly with the possibilities, none of them favorable if your name happened to be Janice Covington. 

"I was...I was mulling over the virtues of a really fine whiskey," Mel replied, her fingers grazing Janice's as they clasped the neck of the bottle. "I don't have a great deal of experience with drinkin', as you know, but I find that I quite have the knack for it." Mel took custody of the bottle. "This has a...a kinda smoky quality to it..."  sip "...oak, I think."

"Probably aged in oak barrels. You sure you don't want me to take that?"

"Did you want another drink?" Mel asked as she held the bottle possessively between the pillows of her breasts.

Lucky bottle. Janice shook her head slowly, placing her hand over the wide mouth of the tumbler. She took two steps back, leaning against a support post. As she watched Mel go repeatedly to the well, she determined that at least one of them should stay sober. 

Mel settled back into the glider, the open bottle of whiskey tucked between the armrest and her hip. She kicked off her shoes, heedless of where they fell. Her face was flushed, warmed by the liquor, and her eyes were luminous in the moonlight. Meeting Janice's expectant gaze, her courage waned temporarily. It wasn't until she'd cautiously tipped back another shot of whiskey, that she found her voice. "If you drink from a bottle marked poison, it's almost certain to disagree with you sooner or later."

"If you're referring to the whiskey..."

"It's from Alice in Wonderland, and I'm tryin' to make a point. Please, don't interrupt." Janice settled back against the post, suitably reproached, while Mel focused on a knothole in the floor boards. "Lewis Carroll as prophet...it's not an idea many people can warm to." She kept her eyes down, unable to bear either the confirmation or denial in the other's face, and she was grateful Janice had the presence of mind to remain silent. "All my life I knew what I wanted, what was expected of me as a woman, and as the daughter of Melvin Pappas. These things were seldom complementary of one another..." Mel's voice trailed off; she groped for the bottle at her side, but her hands were shaking and her aim was slightly off. She felt Janice's fingers close over her own. "One more...for luck."

"I think you've had enough, Mel." Janice set the bottle on the table between them. "Just...take a few deep breaths and spit it out...whatever it is." She took a long pull on her whiskey, reflecting miserably on her inability to cope with rejection, and braced for the worst.

"I've made some mistakes in my life, Janice," said Mel, the words leaping from her lips, a verbal suicide. "I have done some things that I've regretted, and people I cared about paid the price." She looked into the bottom of her glass and was afforded an unobstructed, if distorted, view of her bare feet. "Oh, my...look a' that..." She tilted her head in wonder. "I have big feet," she said, as if the discovery were a revelation. 

Janice rolled her eyes. It's official: she's drunk. It's a damned record. The number one problem with drunks, in her opinion, was the propensity to be distracted by the smallest things. It was both blessing and curse. "You have nice feet, Mel," she said succinctly as she approached the glider. She took the empty tumbler from Mel's hands. "I think you should probably lie down for a while, sleep this off."

When Mel felt Janice's hand upon her elbow, she looked up into a pair of sparkling green eyes and felt compelled to apologize. "I'm sorry you came all this way, Janice." Strong fingers encircled her arm, drawing her into a standing position. "I know it must seem like a tremendous waste of time to you now, and if I'd known you were comin', I'd've stopped you."

Standing there, with Mel's arm wedged securely between her own hip and elbow, Janice felt her knees go to jelly. Here it comes. "Later, Mel...All this can wait till later." She stopped at the front door of a house settled with shadows. With her free hand, she groped for the lights. 

"Did you bring the whiskey?"

"It's fine where it is," Janice replied, frustration bleeding into her voice. "God dammit, what're you people? Bats?!"

"I haven't always liked the choices I've made, Janice," said Mel, flipping a light switch on the opposite side of the door. "Erratic, my daddy would've said." She leaned heavily into the smaller woman. "You steer, I'll walk...Following my, my heart one minute, my head the next..."

"Can't go wrong with either of those. Whoa, watch your head." Janice guided her across the bedroom threshold, relieved to find the light switch on the first attempt. She backed Mel across the floor until her calves met the edge of the bed. "Okay. Sit." 

"I made mistakes...Sit?"

Janice snorted. "Bend your knees...it'll happen by itself."

Mel's face softened. "You're so good to me, Janice," she said sincerely; the ache in her voice broke Janice's heart. "You and Jack...both so good to me."

Jack. There's my wake?up call. "Yeah, well..." As a sparkling retort, it failed miserably. "Get some rest, Mel."

"Did'ja ever do that? Try somethin' just to try it...to get it out of your system, like the cold or the flu...or to satisfy someone else's expectations..."

Better and better. Worse than a fling, an experiment. Janice set her jaw; there were no words to convey her hurt, her disappointment. When she turned to leave, it was all she could do not to bolt from the room. 

"I've hurt people, Janice..." Mel's voice stopped her at the door. "I hurt you."

"Yeah. You did...but I'm tough, Mel," Janice replied, her back to the room. "I'll get over it." 

"I won't. I can't. Janice...please look at me."

Look at her? Yes? No? Janice suspected that whatever steely resolve she still possessed would vanish at the first sight of tears. "That's probably not a good idea, Mel." 

With supreme effort, Mel got to her feet, dizzy at first, then queasy. "Please...You're gonna walk out that door, and I'm never gonna see you again...I just know it...So you turn around and lemme say this one teeny tiny little thing." 

Janice inhaled deeply and squared her shoulders like a boxer bracing for a blow. Mel swam into her field of vision...flushed and bleary?eyed, weaving just slightly as she smoothed her skirt with sweaty palms. Different picture, same effect. "Okay...I'm listening."

Chapter 9

Mel blinked rapidly, astonishment plain on her face. Clearly, despite her heartfelt appeal for indulgence, she hadn't anticipated Janice would yield quickly, if at all. Her legs were watery, anesthetized by a combination of whiskey and anxiety, but she was determined to deliver this next bit of information standing, if for no other reason than it might give Janice pleasure to knock her down. A quick inhale and on the exhale, the words, "I love you, Janice." There was the smallest twitch between Janice's brows, easy to miss unless one knew what to look for; but seeing it was one thing, and translating it was another.

Janice's response was inflectionless and noncommittal. "I see." The two syllable equivalent of a polar bear in a white room. 

Janice's apparent apathy took Mel by surprise and sent her scrambling for elaboration. "I plan on leavin' here when Jack returns next month." She shrugged. "Don't love him... love you." On the strength of that claim, Mel crossed the floor, knees shaking. "I'm askin' to come back, Janice... I'm askin' to be a part of your life again." Her eyes, swimming in hot, unspilt tears, scanned Janice's carefully?set face. "Well...say somethin'..."

Janice breathed in through her mouth; she could taste Mel on her tongue, a frothy concoction of whiskey and guilt and fear. There were few things that sobered a drunk faster than fear. "God knows, Mel, when I arrived here, I'd have forgiven you anything just to have you back in my life...And a few minutes ago, those words and your tears might've been enough to reconcile our differences. But frankly, now...I have to say I don't come that cheap." 

Light?headed with fear and apprehension, Mel stammered, "What can I do? What do you want me to say? I've been as honest as I know how to be."

Janice was tight?lipped. "In vino veritas. Wine or whiskey, you had to knock back a third of a bottle to be honest with me...to confess the truth: I was a mistake, and our relationship was an experiment." Mel opened her mouth to argue, but was cut off abruptly. "Mel, you said as much." She turned her eyes to the sagging ceiling, struggling to recall the exact turn of phrase. "Did you ever try something just to get it out of your system...? Ring a bell?" 

"If you're gonna go around quotin' me, at least get it right. I never referred to you as an experiment or a mistake. The truth is ?" cough Mel fought down a brief wave of nausea, holding up a finger indicating that Janice should wait. "...the truth is..." cough 

"The truth is you left me because you were afraid I would leave you. Somewhere in the back of my mind, that makes sense, in a paranoid, insecure kind of way. It's even kind of flattering. What I don't understand is your situation here and now?this mop-the- floors?laundry?on?the?line?dinner?on?the?stove domestic bent. I don't get the attraction, Mel. Granted, Alice is a great kid, any woman would be proud to have her as a daughter, but ?"

"I can explain."

Janice waved her off. "It's okay, Mel. I understand. You were raised in a conservative, Southern household, by a conservative, Southern grandmother. Your future included white picket fences and babies, and a husband. But before you settled down to all of that, you wanted to sow your wild oats, as they say...experiment with different things. Well, I had a good time. I hope you did; and now that you've got it out of your system, you can settle down to marital bliss with the partner your parents always wanted you to have...someone with facial hair, who dresses left or right." 

Indignation and embarrassment fought a pitched battle on Mel's face. "Now, you jes' hold on!"

"Although, I have to get my own two cents in here and say that you have lousy taste in men. I mean, I don't know Jack Greenway from Adam, but from everything I have heard and seen in the last few hours, I know that he's the last man on earth I would pair you with. What is it, Mel? Does he remind you of your daddy?" she asked facetiously. 

"Are you through? Can I talk now?" Mel asked through clenched teeth, a reaction that was as much anger as it was a way to bite back her rising gorge; too late she had discovered that she was a proficient drinker, but a terrible drunk. "You keep sayin' you understand this, and you understand that. News flash, Janice: you don't understand anythin'." Mel looked seriously down into the youthful face of cynicism; it was one of those times when her height was an advantage. "Now...you sit." She thrust a finger at the bed. When Janice hesitated, she raised a single eyebrow and from somewhere deep in her ancestral line, summoned up 'The Look'. "Your butt on that bed. Now." 

Janice lighted on the corner of the mattress, watching in silence as Mel struggled to maintain her upright position. "Maybe you should be the one sitting."

Mel took a step back and leaned against the wall for support. "You say you talked to my mama. Long conversation?"

"Ten minutes, thereabouts."

The corner of Mel's mouth twitched. "That's plenty time enough. Did you love your mama, Janice? I mean, before she left you and your daddy, did you have a good relationship?"

Janice scratched her ear and shrugged. "We were close, yeah. Is this going someplace?"

"Indulge me. Would it be safe to say that you did your utmost to please her?" Janice nodded and Mel countered, "Out of love and respect." Again, a nod. The tall Southerner melted against the wall, kept upright by sheer force of will. "You had ten minutes, long distance with Miss Julia Pappas. How was it?"

Janice labored for just the right word. "Interesting." 

Mel coughed, and then laughed into the back of her hand. "Don't play the diplomat, Janice; it doesn't suit you."

"You want me to say she was cold and blunt? Okay, I will. One minute into the conversation, I was ready to throttle her."

"Get in line," Mel said, nodding sagely. "Knowin' my mama as I do, I'm gonna guess that she didn't tell you I called her from the airport in Athens the night I left."

"Funny...she didn't mention it."

"We had quite a long talk...or maybe I should say: she lectured and I listened, a first for me. All those years growin' up, I managed to tune out a lot of what she was sayin' and find my own way, my own paths, always to her dismay. I could never please her, and she never tired...tires... of remindin' me of my failures. The way she saw it, leavin' you was the smartest thing I'd ever done, which only reinforced my opinion of her. I had called for understandin' and sympathy and gotten a slap in the face. She said, 'Come home, Melinda. I forgive you.'...like lovin' you was some kinda crime. She even offered to wire me plane fare, but I didn't want anythin' from her." She flushed and weaved. Janice was at her side in an instant. "I have to sit for a spell..." Without speaking, Janice helped her back to the bed, though she herself remained standing. "Look at you," Mel said, her voice softly marveling. "Even now, as angry as you are with me, you have such good instincts, Janice; that was one of the things that drew me to you."

Janice softened just slightly, though it would take more than flattery to win her back. "And Jack..." she prompted with genuine curiosity. "What drew you to him?" 

Mel closed her eyes briefly, as if conjuring forth the recollection. "His innate decency, I think. He spoke of his family, his daughter, with such affection."

Sitting on the bed, with some distance between them, Janice remarked on the only thing about Jack Greenway she liked, apart from his absence. "Like I said, Alice is a good kid. You had a ready?made family here."

Mel looked at her hands, trembling in her lap. "Certainly that was an attractive prospect. It wasn't until later in our relationship that I discovered I was merely the last in a long line of sweethearts. When he left here seven weeks ago, he gave me the house keys, two hundred dollars cash, and his word that he would be back. He gave me all that, but..." she held up her left hand and wiggled her fingers. "No ring." She shrugged. "You don't give a ring to your house sitter."

"It never...well, it never went beyond that?"

Mel smiled, amused by Janice's delicate approach. "If you're askin' if we ever consummated the relationship, the answer is no. Oh, there were a couple of false starts, but I think he knew my heart wasn't in it. My first night here he took a blanket and pillow out to the sofa and never pressed the matter again."

Janice heaved a sigh of relief. At last, the 'experiment' had been identified and the only thing that shocked her more than the identity was Jack's surprising depth of character. "If you didn't love him, why did you stay, Mel?"

"Because I had nowhere else to go," Mel replied simply. "The truth is I got off that steamer flat broke, needin' isolation, time to think. This house provides all that. Jack. Well, I suppose you could say I fell in serious like with the man. He's kind and generous. He knows when to talk, and when to listen, and he doesn't hoard his emotions like a lot of folks do. So, when you ask if he reminds me of my daddy, I'll have to say ?no, he most certainly does not."

Janice shuffled uncomfortably. "Touche'." She had closely watched Mel's face throughout her confession, gauging sincerity or deception based on her observations. Her instincts told her that what she was hearing was the truth, stripped bare of all pretense, absent of mitigating circumstances. She wanted to return that honesty with words, a touch, a kiss...a caress...yet something inside screamed for caution. She didn't trust her hands, so she sat on them. "I want to believe you, Mel."

Mel turned to face her. "I don't know what else I can say, Janice, except that you are and never have been anythin' but what I absolutely wanted out of life." She extended a hand and cupped the heart?shaped face lovingly in her palm. "Can you accept that I made an awful, horrible mistake the day I left you? Do you know how much that has hurt me every day since?" Her hand, unsupported by Janice's own, began to tremble with the fear that she had misread the situation and moved too soon. "Tell me you don't want me...Tell me there's not this huge achin' chasm where your heart used to be...Tell me you don't love me, and you can walk out of here and never hear from me again."

Janice swallowed hard; Mel's hand against her skin was almost painful. Beneath her thighs, her own hands scrunched the bedspread into fistfuls. "I don't think I can do that." 

Mel dropped her hand slowly to her side, and swallowed deeply, audibly. "Do you hate me very much?" She dreaded the answer.

A smile turned up the corner of Janice's mouth. "Some day, I gotta compile a book of useless questions."

Mel almost wept with relief. Her plea, "Kiss me, Janice," carried all the weight of a dying man's cry for water, a request that, in good conscience, could not be denied. She leaned forward, meeting Janice halfway, and when warm lips connected, she felt a shudder run down her spine - hot and icy at the same time. "More..." she urged, her lips sliding against Janice's, an unquenchable thirst begging to be slaked. She plunged one hand into sweet?smelling honey hair, while the other slid beneath the blouse to cup a firm breast, its nipple made hard and erect by the single brush of a calloused thumb.

Janice was not prepared for the mindless lassitude that gripped her at the first touch of those talented hands. Heat coursed through her body like a fever. Had she not been able to taste the whiskey on Mel's lips, present in every kiss rained upon her face, she might have been content to endure such an assault indefinitely. She knew she should resist; it was the honorable thing to do, even if she would hate herself in the morning. "Mel...Mel, honey...we have to stop..." she murmured without conviction. She groaned, tilting her head back as feather?soft kisses grazed her from chin to cleavage, and fingers fumbled at the buttons of her blouse. "I mean it, Mel..." she protested, even as her nipples sprang to life, minds of their own. Traitors. Summoning up her last reserves of self?control, she wrested herself from Mel's embrace and stood. "I think we should stop..." She observed her lover laboring for breath, and she could see her reflection clearly in those wide, cerulean pools; it flattered her to be seen as an object of lust. "I gotta go splash some water on my face or...somethin'..."

Mel caught the retreating figure by the arm. "Janice...did I do somethin' wrong?"

"Aw, no, sweetheart, it's just...well..." Janice tugged at the front of the blouse, pinching the icon of St. Ignatius between her thumb and forefinger. "There's just somethin'...I don't know... indecent about being groped in this blouse."

"If it bothers you that much...take it off."

Janice chuckled. "Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"So would you," replied Mel pointedly. "Make love to me, Janice." She held Janice's gaze as her long fingers drifted down to the buttons of her own blouse.

Janice raised her eyes heavenward. "This is a test...it's gotta be."  Passion's gauntlet. She shifted her gaze back to Mel, who was murmuring soft obscenities as she struggled with the top button of her blouse. "Not tonight, honey. You have a headache."

Mel got to her feet. "I am not drunk," she said adamantly.

"Oh, yeah?" She held up three fingers. "How many fingers?"

"Ohhh," Mel grinned slyly and groped Janice. "I like this game!"

Janice squealed and captured Mel's roaming hands in her own. "Jeeze Louise, Mel!"

Mel managed a genuinely wounded expression as she stood there, both hands pinned against her chest by Janice's strong grip. "I'm comin' on too strong, aren't I?"

"Oh, God...don't ask me that. I'm almost certain I'll lie." She released her grip and gathered Mel to her in an embrace that seemed to temporarily satisfy their mutual need for intimacy without jeopardizing either woman's integrity. They had been moving in a slow, almost indefinable circle for a full minute before Janice was conscious of the movement. With the covert introduction of a melody, it graduated from random motion to sensuous dance. The words of the song wound their way from Mel's lips to her ear in a sweet, mournful sigh, taking on the aspect of a heartfelt confession. She would never again listen to the lyrics in the same way.

How carelessly You gave me your heart And carelessly I broke it, sweetheart I took each tender kiss you gave to me Every kiss made you a slave to me Then carelessly I told you good?bye But now at night I wake up and cry I wish I knew a way to find the love I threw away so carelessly.

"That was nice, Mel," Janice murmured. "Reminds me of that night in Athens...remember? Our first night together?" She felt Mel nod against her shoulder. "Cole Porter on the radio, $8 champagne on ice...you and me in the bed...on the floor... against the wall. It was perfect."

Mel disengaged and stepped back, putting enough space between them so that she might look Janice seriously in the face. "I promise, Janice, never to be intimidated by perfection ever again."

Janice winked and once again pulled Mel into an embrace. "I'm gonna hold you to that," she replied. She spun Mel out to arm's length and held her briefly by the fingertips. "Dip?" With a snap of her wrist, she pulled her partner into her and dropped her in a dip that even Astaire would have envied. Grinning, she queried, "Am I good...or what?"

"Janice...would it spoil this moment for you if I threw up?"

[faveficarchive]

Home Fires (Part 1)

By Christine "Roo" Toups

LOVE/SEX WARNING/DISCLAIMER: This story depicts a love/sexual relationship between two consenting adult women. If you are under 18 years of age or if this type of story is illegal in the state or country in which you live, please do not read it.

Carelessly, words and music by C. Kenny/N.Kenny/N. Ellis used without permission. 

NOTE: © copyright 2000 One Bard Writin'

Chapter 1  

Alice Greenway leaned against the railing of the screened-in verandah and fanned herself with her wide-brimmed hat. It was October, high spring, and the heat at Coolinga Station was malevolent. The house and grounds, enveloped in a profusion of wildflowers and spinifex, broiled beneath an eiderdown of iron-gray clouds.

With more force than was necessary, Alice smacked opened the screen door and plunked down on the last of seven steps, digging the toe of her chukkas into the dark, red earth. Salty droplets stung the corners of her eyes and she wiped them away with a leisurely pass of her hand. She was bored. Bored stiff. Bored to tears. But the four-legged remedy for her boredom stood grazing in the paddock, growing fat on Bahia hay. She launched herself from the steps and strode purposefully across the grounds. Minutes later, she emerged from the paddock astride a sturdy, though somewhat lethargic, gray gelding. She pulled the brim of her father's old hat down about her eyes and gathered the reins and a clump of silver mane in her hands. Squinting into the midday sun, youthful eyes picked out an oft-visited destination: a cool blackwater billabong nestled in the shade of a cathedral of fifty-foot silver ghost gums. Alice dug her heels into the belly of the horse and spurred him across the salt pan at a gallop. * * * * * * * * * * The cramped cockpit of the Lockheed Electra had none of the amenities usually associated with flying - no in-flight meals, no stewardess, no legroom; not that Janice Covington, at a mere five-feet-four-inches, required a great deal of legroom. The engine, for all its wear, ran smoothly, and the controls were crisp and responded immediately to her touch. As she steered with her knee, she unstoppered a water jug and drank deeply the last of her tepid water. She had removed her leather jacket upon takeoff, opting for shirt sleeves and now, three hours later, her thin cotton blouse was plastered uncomfortably to her back. She consoled herself with the knowledge that she was only a few short miles from her destination. Gazing out the dirty windscreen as far as she could see, flat, russet-colored earth swelled to meet the horizon, its monotony broken only occasionally by small water holes and stands of gums, silver in the season. One mile looked very much like another, and yet she had referred to her map only once since leaving the airfield at Birrubi, relying instead on a combination of instinct and luck to bring her into close orbit around Coolinga Station and its current proprietress, Melinda Pappas. She and Janice had not seen one another, or spoken, in more than six months - a fact which both angered and confounded Janice. As she gazed at a cluster of pinpricks gleaming like quicksilver on the horizon, she reflected that there is never a disaster so devastating that a determined person can not salvage something from the ashes. 

* * * * * * * * * *

In the time it took to tether her horse to a low-hanging tree limb and cast off her boots, Alice was wading knee-deep in a cool, black velvet heaven, sharing the waters with a single bold finch whose kin decorated the branches of the gums like colorful buds. She sloshed across the pool, stirring the satiny silt to the surface, and plopped down on the sandy bank, her feet still dangling in the water. Gazing into the pool, she idly appraised her reflection: broad face, wide-spaced eyes, and aggressive auburn hair. She looked like her mother, which was not a bad thing. Her mother had been considered a beauty in her youth, after her marriage to Jack Greenway but before her exile to this island in the outback. Nine years of isolation and grinding drudgery, eking out a living in a land that would not willingly give up even a green blade of grass, had taken a physical and emotional toll on the woman and the marriage. The ink had not dried upon the divorce papers before Peggy Greenway packed both her possessions and her child off to her mother's small home on the coast.  

Alice had spent the last three years shuttling between the neat green cottages in her Adelaide suburb and her father's beloved patch of saw grass in the outback. She loved her father dearly, but the downside of spending holidays at the station was the almost perpetual isolation, the nearest neighbor being three hours by car. The town of Church Hill, population 605, situated at the foot of the Kakadu Escarpments, was hardly a thriving metropolis. Even when she lived at the station year 'round, Alice could remember having visited Church Hill only a half dozen times. There had never been much there to interest a child - public houses, stockyards, a small grocery below a dilapidated boarding house - all populated by people her mother judiciously called sturdy colonial stock. Four-hundred miles west of Coolinga Station, in the heart of the outback, lay Birrubi. Slightly larger than Church Hill, it boasted yet more pubs and sturdy colonials, as well as a small movie house, an airstrip and a school, which her mother steadfastly refused to allow her to attend as it was populated almost exclusively with aborigine children. Thus, before the divorce, Alice's only contact with children her own age had been through the wireless school run by the government. What the faceless teacher did not offer in the way of stimulation, curriculum or companionship, Peggy Greenway sought to provide herself. The end result of such an insular upbringing among adults made for a quietly confident, eerily mature thirteen-year-old girl...who resembled her mother.

Alice's hand shot out, scooping the frowning visage up and across the pool in a sheet of water where it dispersed, landing in drops and dribbles upon the sandy bank, a fractured reflection. Before the water could calm and resolve itself into her likeness again, she withdrew her legs and trudged across the sand to a paperbark stump where she used her socks to brush the sand from the bottoms of her feet. She shook out her boots, in the event some scorpion had taken up squatter's rights, and slipped them on, all the while squinting at the outbuildings of Coolinga Station. The latest in a long line of potential stepmothers, house-sitting while Jack was in service to his country, was hard at work in the hangar on a project in which Alice didn't care to feign interest. Owing to Jack Greenway's weakness for younger women, Melinda Pappas was fifteen years his junior, a noted archeologist, and nothing less than striking. She was also kind and funny. In all honesty, the worst that could be said of Melinda was that she was American, a shortcoming Mel could do nothing to remedy.

Alice was startled out of her reverie by the distinct droning of a twin engine aircraft; she raised a hand to shield her eyes and caught the glint of sunlight on an aluminum fuselage substantial enough to be a DC-3. She wondered briefly if it were her father, home on leave early. The plane banked and whined, its engine running hot. Having logged a hundred hours at her father's side in the family Cessna, she recognized the telltale signs of a too-rich fuel mixture. As the aircraft aimed for the white windsock on the hangar roof, she knotted her boots and swung gracefully into the saddle.

* * * * * * * *

Janice popped open the wedge of glass at her left shoulder, but the rush of hot fresh air did nothing to relieve the stifling heat inside the cockpit. Again she observed the windsock drooping airless and impotent above the hangar. She throttled back, aiming the nose of the plane at a grassless patch roughly fifty feet wide and two thousand feet long. She throttled back again, cutting her speed by half, and the aircraft seemed to hang suspended and weightless above the makeshift runway before touching down hard on all three wheels. It bounced once, kicking up a cloud of red dust, wavered and touched down again, the tires finding the neat groove worn into the track. She coasted there, comfortable in that niche, applying the brakes evenly, toying with the flaps. At the runway's end she used just enough throttle and hard rudder to pivot the aircraft 180 degrees. As it turned facing into the sun, she cut the engine, blinking as the decelerating props sliced segments of sunlight. "Another textbook landing," she muttered, sliding her sweaty palms against her slacks. Somewhat self-consciously, she observed the adolescent face of rebuttal peering at her from the other side of the windscreen; though the smile on the child's face was pleasant enough, her posture - arms folded, weight on one hip - was clearly judgmental. Acknowledging the girl with a smiling nod, Janice threw her jacket over her arm and ran her fingers haphazardly through her honey-colored hair, gave up and slapped a battered brown fedora atop her head. At the rear of the cockpit, she reached above her head to pop the hatch. With the ease of a gymnast, she climbed through the hatch and onto the expansive port wing. The rubber grip tiles along the valley between fuselage and wing were soft and clingy from the heat, yielding the leather soles of her boots only when adequately persuaded. Janice's first impulse was to curse. "Son-of-a-bitch," she muttered under her breath.

Alice's disappointment at not finding her father behind the controls of the aircraft vanished upon sight of the first female pilot in her experience. "G'day!" she hailed enthusiastically.

Janice looked up to find the teenager regarding her with undisguised bemusement from her place beside one of the stilled props. "Afternoon," she replied, even as the girl possessively stroked the worn metal prop. "You like her, eh?" Janice encouraged with a wink, as she jumped down from the wing.

Alice nodded and smiled broadly. "She's beaut! A Lockheed Electra 10E, nine cylinder, air-cooled, eleven hundred horsepower. I suppose you know your fuel mixture is a bit off."

Janice lay the flat of her hand against the fuselage; her fingertips were touching Alice's. "I don't pretend to know the mechanics of flying, sweetheart...lift plus thrust equals my butt in the air." Janice turned and walked towards the tail of the aircraft, the curious girl on her heels. "I intend to fly this baby until it drops from the sky."

Alice cocked an eyebrow. "Then what?"

"Then," replied Janice, inserting her hand into a half-moon hollow on the cargo door. "I'll walk." She put her right shoulder into the door and pulled on the handle, lifting as she did so -- a combination that worked in lieu of a key. Without lowering the portable steps, she groped inside the door. "You mind?" she asked, holding a pair of chock blocks by the ropes connecting them.  

"Aw, sure, no problem," Alice replied, trotting forward to wedge the chock blocks, one beneath each balding tire. "Your port tire's low," she said as she re-appeared at Janice's elbow. "We've got a portable pump in the hangar. If you like I could -- "

Closing the cargo door, Janice quipped, "A good pilot doesn't need three tires." The girl smiled and laughed, a trio of warm staccato chuckles that rang with sincerity. Yep...like her already. "You seem to know a little something about airplanes."

Alice shuffled. "My dad's a pilot in the Australian Air Force, and we have a Cessna in the hangar over there. When it's working, it's a sweet craft, but this - " Again, she stroked the metal skin of the Electra. " - this is just like the one flown by Miss Amelia Earhart on her 'round the world flight. Strewth, you even dress alike," she concluded breathlessly, as she gestured at Janice's jodhpurs and tall boots.

"One difference," quipped Janice. "We know where I am."  

"Too right! Very good," said Alice, giving the stranger's hand a friendly pat. "I'm Alice Greenway." She extended her hand, expecting neither the iron grip nor the enthusiastic pump that followed.

"Pleasure to meet you, Alice. Janice Covington."

Alice went wide-eyed and let her grip slacken until she felt Janice's fingers slip from her own. "Doctor Janice Covington?" 

For a brief moment, Janice wondered what Mel had told her potential new family about their relationship. "Hardly a household name."

"I read your book, The Xena Scrolls: Myth into History."

Janice fanned the black flies away from her face. "Fanny Hill it ain't."

"I thought it was fascinating," Alice reiterated. "What're you doing in Australia?"

"Currently, I'm standing here feeding the flies," she retorted, grinning good-naturedly. "More specifically, I'm heading an aboriginal dig at Kakadu."

Alice seemed to perk up at the mention of the dig. "Then you must be here for Mel."

Janice plucked the sweat-damp cotton blouse away from the small of her back. "I didn't know anyone but me called her Mel." Her eyes moved across the paddock to the sprawling white house beyond. Under the verandah was an aviary of twittering budgerigars, but no Mel. "Is she here?"

"In the hangar, last time I looked," replied Alice, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. She fell into step beside Janice as they walked towards the hangar.  

They passed a horse, lathered with sweat, lungs working like a bellows. Janice said, "Kinda dangerous, isn't it? To run a horse in this heat?"

"I thought you were my dad come home. I wasn't thinking about the horse, particularly," the teen admitted without a hint of remorse.

A reproof knocked at the back of Janice's teeth; as the adult, she thought she ought to make some stern remark, but standing eye to eye, chatting with this mature teen, it was easy to forget, even briefly, that Alice was not a contemporary. In the end, she held her tongue, reasoning that it was not her place to reprimand or discipline another's child.

"Are you here to take Mel back with you?"

"I don't know, kid. I'd love to have her on the dig, naturally." Janice shrugged. "But she has a life here to consider."

"Did she really play such a large part in the discovery of the scrolls?"

"Well, you read my book. She was instrumental. I couldn't have done it without her." 

Alice merely nodded, conversation closed. As they entered the hangar, Janice focused upon the green and white twin engine Cessna and the island of light puddled around the form with her back to them. She was painting, with infinite care and patience, the words Greenway Charters across the fuselage in a bold, no-nonsense script.

Alice called out experimentally, testing the waters for turbulence. "Hey...Mel?"

Without looking up, Mel replied in the accent that Janice had once quipped made Scarlett O'Hara sound like a carpetbagger. "I thought I heard you thunder up." She dipped the brush into the quart can at her feet and, steadying one hand upon the other, resumed her tedious work. "How many times have I told you not to run the horses in this heat?"

Alice muttered her stock reply, "Too many times."

"Uh hmm," murmured Mel reproachfully. Without looking up, she asked, "Was that the mail plane?"

Ignoring her baser instincts, Janice took her hat in her hand and slid neatly into the segue with, "Would you be terribly disappointed if it wasn't?"

Mel's back stiffened and she halted, brush poised on the downstroke. With deliberation, she placed the brush across the top of the open paint can and turned to face the speaker. Her face was a mask of polite detachment, and she struggled for the matching tone of voice. "Well," she said, taking in the unexpected arrival of Janice Covington. "This is a surprise." 

Chapter 2  

Janice shuffled and squashed the brim of her fedora against her thigh. A surprise. Non-committal. Neither good nor bad. Just a surprise. "You look good, Mel." Oversized, paint-stained coveralls, long hair pulled back in a paisley scarf, cateye glasses on the bridge of a nose daubed with black paint - she looked incredibly good to Janice. 

Mel stopped just short of returning the compliment, so ingrained were her Southern good manners. "Well, Janice Covington," she drawled with forced nonchalance. "What brings you to my door?"

Alice piped in, "Dr. Covington's in charge of the Kakadu dig, the one you turned down."

Janice shrugged and interjected, "Professor Moffat did say I wasn't the university's first choice."

Mel approached, wiping her hands on a scrap of cloth. "Alice, run ahead and put the billy on." She moved her gaze to Janice. "You'll stay to tea?"

"Billy? Tea? You've gone bush, Mel," quipped Janice with genuine amusement. 

"I've adapted, Janice. I hope you don't mind tea. Coffee's in short supply these days." 

"Tea'll be fine," Janice conceded with a nod, even as Alice hurried out of the hangar at a trot. Alone at last, the pair could speak freely. "It's been a long time, Mel...how've you been?"

"Busy. Jack wants to start a charter business when he's discharged, so I've been--" "I meant personally," interjected Janice. "How are you?"

"I'm a mess," Mel replied abruptly, making a preliminary swipe at the paint on her fingers. "I need to wash up." 

"You look fine to me...except..." Janice took the cloth from Mel's hands, folded it to find a clean edge and wiped the smudge of paint from the end of Mel's nose. "There. All beautiful again."

Flustered, Mel's full lips parted to retort. "I...you...thank you."

Janice grinned, enjoying Mel's predicament; the brunette was seldom at a loss for words. "This is where you're supposed to say, 'You look good, too, Janice.'"

Mel looked up and regarded Janice coolly as they stepped from the hangar into the dazzling late afternoon sunshine. "You've lost weight."

"Huh?"

Mel elaborated with an abrupt gesture to Janice's hips. "The pistol and the whip."

"Will I need them?" Janice retorted playfully.

Mel squinted at the teenager bounding down the front steps of the house. "I don't want them where Alice can get at them."

"Relax, Mel," replied Janice, following her gaze. "They're in a locked strongbox in the cockpit, and I have the only key."

"I put the billy on," said Alice as she joined them. "Want me to put out the lemon biscuits Dad sent from Singapore last month? I was saving them for a special occasion."

Janice clapped the teen on the shoulder. "I'm flattered." 

Alice beamed with appreciation. "Suppose I could get a look inside the Electra after tea?" 

Janice looked sidelong at an ambivalent Mel. "If it's all right with Mel, I don't see why not. Mel?"

Mel directed her gaze at Alice. "You tend to that horse of yours before he drops of the heat, and I'll consider it."

Alice clucked her tongue. "No worries, Mel," she said, backpedaling towards the paddock. "Be in to tea in a few minutes."

"She's a good kid," Janice said once Alice was out of earshot.

"She's better than good," Mel replied, steering Janice towards the house. "She's her father's daughter."

"They're pretty close, huh."

"So close there isn't room for me between them," Mel muttered.

Janice sensed that there was real hurt behind the disclosure, but she decided to spare Mel her observations. She pushed the hat back on her head, gesturing broadly towards the resting Electra at the same time. "Whatta ya think of her?" Mel put her hands on her hips and idly appraised the aircraft. Its nicked and pitted props, balding tires, and worn aluminum fuselage spoke of thousands of hours of wear and tear. "I won it in a poker game a couple of months back." Janice patted the aluminum skin. "Nice, huh?"

Mel looked sideways at her ex-partner and sighed. "As if your life isn't dangerous enough, Janice Covington, you have to rise up to meet God halfway."

"Mel," quipped Janice, nudging her gently in the ribs. "Believe it or not, standing here next to you is the most dangerous thing I've done in months."

Mel's smile dissolved into a flat line. "Don't do that, Janice."

"Do what?"

Mel folded her arms. "Don't be charmin'," she warned, turning for the house.

Janice shrugged, tossed her jacket over one shoulder and muttered at Mel's retreating form, "Well...shit." She caught up with Mel on the steps. Conjuring up the right note of firm, yet injured dignity, she said, "Hold it right there."

Mel froze on the spot, her back to Janice and her hand on the iron doorknob. "What?" she inquired, her tone unmistakably hostile.

"Look, sweetheart," Janice began, her voice oozing sarcasm. "I came a long way to see you, the least you can do is pretend you're flattered." She swept the hat from her head and wiped her brow against the back of the same hand. "All I'm asking for is a little civility." She paused before adding, "You owe me that."

Mel didn't argue the point; her downcast eyes held a mixture of guilt and regret. "You're right," she said at last, regarding her guest. "I apologize."

Janice tilted her head slightly, gauging Mel's sincerity. It didn't surprise her that the apology, wrung from a gentle woman under duress, smacked of indifference. Janice didn't care. If it bought her time with Mel, she simply didn't care.

Chapter 3 

The screen door opened with a protesting screech as Mel preceded Janice into the house, flicking a wall switch as she entered. A fan mounted on one of the exposed beams in the ceiling began stirring the warm air around. "Won't take long for it to cool down in here," Mel assured her as she pulled the scarf from her head and shook out her long raven tresses. 

Janice made a noise of acknowledgment deep in her throat and gave the spacious room a glance. It oozed masculinity - trophy heads adorned the dark paneled walls, dusty volumes and faded yellowing pulps were heaped in stacks alongside bookcases of classics cured in leather and gold. Dead center of the room, facing a rather imposing stone fireplace, was a worn leather sofa, hand-made brocade pillows at each end the only perceptible evidence of a feminine presence in the house. The carpet beneath her feet was worn nearly colorless. "Nice room," she said at last, fanning herself with her fedora. 

"It's a tomb," replied Mel with a shrug. "I feel right at home. Speakin' of tombs, how's the dig progressin'? Finding anythin' of interest?"

"Oh, the usual...cave paintings, pottery, burial sites...Kakadu boasts some of the earliest tropical settlements, but there's nothing as noteworthy as the Scrolls there, trust me. The whole site has a vaguely picked over feeling...like someone's been there before me and removed all the really fascinating bits."

Mel quipped, "I swear I haven't left this station in a month." She playfully crossed her heart for emphasis. 

"Don't you miss it? The work?"

"What?" Mel countered, plumping one of the brocade pillows. "Miss grubbin' about in the dirt? Hardly." She used her scarf to pat her glistening face. "I put that life behind me for good."

Janice thought that Mel's last claim lacked sincerity which both saddened and pleased her. "Well, if everything goes according to schedule, we should be wrapping things up by the end of the month, before the monsoon season."

"And then where will you go?" Mel asked, feigning nonchalance.

Janice shrugged. "Don't know really...have several interesting offers."

"Interestin' meaning risky?" 

"Some more than others," Janice replied succinctly. Any further discussion on the matter was lost in the demanding whistle of a tea kettle. Janice followed Mel into the kitchen, which was easily the largest residential kitchen Janice had ever seen. It was dominated by an enormous oven and fireplace. Spacious cupboards with screened doors displayed shelves of canned goods, and the room held the tantalizing odor of seasoned meat. "Something smells good."

Mel turned down the fire under the kettle and cracked the oven door to study its contents. "Braised veal paprika." 

"She cooks, too," Janice said with a wink.

"My mama insisted." Mel turned to the tea service Alice had prepared. "How do you take your tea?" she asked, filling a china cup from the kettle.

"Black, two sugars. Speaking of which, she wants you to call her."

"You spoke to my mama?" asked Mel in disbelief.  

"She's worried about you." Janice rested her hands on the table top and leaned forward. "We both were. I cut a swath through Europe looking for you...Athens, Singapore, Beijing, Sydney. That's the path of a woman trying hard not to be found."

"Exactly," Mel replied, propelling the cup and saucer across the table with her fingertips. 

"If it hadn't been for my connection in the State Department, I might have never have found you. Peter Mullins red flagged your passport -- when you docked in Sydney Harbor, I knew about it faster than you can say dramamine." Janice looked down, giving her tea a cursory stir with her spoon. "You left me high and dry in Athens," she began with infinite patience. Looking up, she concluded, "I think I deserve an explanation."

Mel locked eyes with Janice. "I thought I made things perfectly clear in my note," she said, absently chafing her hands together as if the room temperature had just dropped twenty degrees. 

"Oh, yeah...the infamous note." 

Mel watched in silence as Janice retrieved a slip of paper, folded and re-folded many times over, from the inside breast pocket of her jacket. You kept it. 

"'Dear Janice...I'm sorry. Mel'." Janice clucked her tongue as she re-folded the note. "Five words scribbled on the back of an envelope... Even as 'Dear John' letters go, it's harsh." She folded her jacket deliberately and lay it over the back of a chair. When she looked up at Mel again, her eyes were level and serious. "Why, Mel?"

Mel's mouth twitched as she brought the cup to her lips. "Why?" she repeated pensively, looking out over the gently undulating brown liquid.

Janice folded her arms and settled her weight on one hip. "Why did you just walk out on me? Wasn't it good between us?"

"You know it was," Mel retorted, laying the cup down without sipping from it. "But... we don't...fit, Janice."

"We fit, Mel...We fit like spoons!"

Mel waved her hand dismissively. "I'm not talkin' about that. That was always fine." 

Janice couldn't keep the smile from her face. "That has a name, Mel." She leaned forward slightly and bounced on the balls of her feet. "It's called sex. It's a word. Look it up."

"Shhh," admonished Mel, looking around for Alice. At last, her mesmerizing blue eyes fell on Janice, who returned the gaze with unspoken urgency. "I never meant to hurt you, Janice."

Janice softened at the confession. "Okay."

"I don't know... Maybe it was fear," Mel admitted in a whisper.

Stunned, Janice murmured, "You were afraid of me?"

Mel was quick to soothe her. "Not in the classic sense, no. You have to understand, Janice. Everythin' I ever had that was good in my life eventually turned on me - my father... my career in archeology..."

"Hey, now, that's unfair. The book -"

Mel silenced her with a look. "It's not about the book. You were never anythin' but generous and ethical when it came to our professional partnership. To use your phrase, I submarined myself in that arena."

"It's not too late, Mel," Janice said. "I hear professionals over 25 make brilliant comebacks all the time."

Mel laughed in spite of herself. "Stop bein' so accommodatin', will you?"

Janice approached Mel and captured her trembling hands in her own; she didn't fail to notice that Mel's manicure had succumbed to the elements. "Right now...the truth... tell me."

Mel inhaled sharply. "We burned white hot...for 35 days." She smiled sadly at the memory. "We burned so hot, so fast... Anythin' that burns that brightly has a short life. I just knew it wouldn't last...that one mornin' I would wake up, and you'd be gone."

"So...leaving me was a pre-emptive strike," Janice concluded as she released Mel's hands. She was silent as she walked the length of the room. At the sink, she turned and said, "You must think I fall in love every day."

Mel's resolve faltered. "I only know that I don't."

"Who do you think you are? Some damned oracle?" Janice charged across the room until she was standing toe to toe with the other woman. "You want to know what's on my mind, what my plans are - you ask me. It's that simple. All I can tell you is that I will be there. As long as my life is my own hands, I will be there. Trust me." Softening, she cupped Mel's face in her hands. "Can you...trust me, Mel?" 

"Ahem..." Alice cleared her throat and wriggled her fingers, her polite smile withering under the gaze of two pairs of accusing eyes. "I'm sorry to interrupt." She shuffled. "Should I pretend I didn't hear any of that?"

Mel replied with an unequivocal, "Yes, please," and moved to the sink to busy herself with the dishes stacked there while Janice feigned interest in her tea. "Did you tend to the horse?"

"Cooled down, rubbed down, watered and fed." Alice reached for the icebox door. "Crikey, I'm dry enough to spit chips! Can I have some lemon squeeze?" she asked, even as her fingers closed over the fluted handle on the pitcher.

"Have water," Mel replied as she filled a glass from the tap. "It's better for you."

Alice chose not to argue the point; there was enough tension in the room. She took the glass offered her and, between gulps, asked, "When's supper?"

"Not for another hour, at least." Mel turned to face them while drying her hands on a dish towel. "It'll be worth the wait, I promise."

"Are you staying to supper, Janice?" Alice asked hopefully.

Janice hesitated, took a pull of the tepid tea and frowned at Mel. "I haven't been asked." 

Mel recognized the thinly-veiled dare. When Alice's gaze swung to her, she was quick to respond. "Apparently I've committed just the worst social faux pas by not invitin' you to supper in the first ten minutes of conversation."

Janice gave a small nod. "Forgiven."

"Would you like to stay for supper?" Mel folded the dishtowel in a square, disguising her emotions behind a veneer of polite indifference. "There's really too much for just two people."

"I thought you'd never ask," replied Janice, grateful that the emotional tide seemed to be going out at last. "It'll be a nice change...not to have to catch my dinner."

"Guest does the supper dishes, right, Mel?" Alice interjected looking sideways at Mel. 

Mel nodded. "Right. House rules," she explained to Janice. "The guest shows his or her appreciation by helpin' with the dishes."

"Oh. No problem," replied Janice, displaying her hands. "These hands could stand some soap and water. As a matter of fact," she took a delicate whiff and wrinkled her nose. "The whole body's in need of a bath."

Mel leaned into Janice. "I'm so glad you said it first."

Janice began backpedaling from the kitchen. "My bag's in the plane. Back in a jiff."

Chapter 4 

"Idiot. I-am-a-complete-idiot," Janice muttered as she rummaged through the items in her satchel. "She doesn't want me here. A blind man could see that, but do I take the hint? Noooooo. Glutton for punishment." She slung a clean pair of slacks over the back of the co-pilot's seat, and pushed the other garments in the bag from one side to the other, searching in growing frustration. "Damn, how could I pack one and not the other? Maybe I can get by with this one..." She lifted one arm and took a judicious whiff. "...aaaaannnd maybe not. Come on, God..." she said, turning her eyes skyward; heaven was a grid of plates and rivets. "Give a girl a break." She sighed, balled up the slacks and stuffed them back into the satchel. In doing so, her fingers closed around a familiar cylinder - hand rolled, Cuban. "Ahhh," she sighed, closing her eyes briefly. "Someone up there likes me." She passed the cheroot under her nose, savoring its aroma. "Mel hates it when I smoke," she murmured aloud. "What the hell. It's my body," she proclaimed, putting the cheroot between her teeth. She groped about in the satchel; coming up empty, she patted her trouser pockets, turning up a single match, precious as gold. "You little bewdy," she crooned in the vernacular. She struck the match on the overhead. It flared to life on the first pass, seasoning the sweltering cockpit air with the tang of sulphur. As she touched the match to the tip of the cheroot, she heard the clatter of boots on the Electra's wing; cautiously, she peered out the cock-pit's windscreen. 

She could see Mel returning her scrutiny from her place on the verandah - hands backwards on her hips, fingers splayed down her backside.

"Janice?"

"Huh? Oh, shit!" Janice yelped, dropping the match to the floor. Fire, bad! She tucked her fingers between her teeth, cooling the singed flesh and looked up; Alice was leaning into the open hatch. "Oh, hiya, kid." She pinched the singed end of the cheroot and dropped it into the breast pocket of her shirt. "Need something?"

Alice fit her reply between roaming glances around the Electra's cockpit. "Uh...no...I was just wondering if you needed anything. Lotta room in there...our Cessna's a cracker box."

Janice scratched behind one ear, correctly interpreting Alice's expression of unadulterated curiosity; it was almost indecent. Thrusting her hands into her pockets, she rocked on her neatly shod heels. "Does Mel know you're here?"

Alice favored her with an innocent grin. "It was her idea. She told me to tell you she's running you a hot bath, and you're not to fritter about or...what was it? Oh, yeah, you're not to dawdle."

Fritter? Dawdle? A chink in the armor! Mel often fell back on the comforting rhythms and expressions of her homespun vernacular when excited or stressed. Janice was secretly delighted to know that her presence still had such an effect. Just for that, let the frittering begin! "Well, kid, what she doesn't know is that I'd prefer a cold bath!" Gesturing with a sweep of her arm, she said, "Welcome aboard."

"You mean it?" Alice crowed. She hauled herself up and spun about on her behind until her legs were dangling through the hatch; she felt Janice's strong hands at her hips, bearing her safely to the cockpit floor. "Strewth," the teen crooned, awestruck. Her fingers brushed the dials above the co-pilot's chair, swept the length of another instrument panel. "Just think: Miss Amelia Earhart piloted a plane like this one. Fred Noonan would've sat here..."

"More likely he'd be in the back, opposite a port window," corrected Janice. "Where he could spread out his charts." Alice nodded, her mouth agape. "Go on, have a seat."

Without further prodding, Alice slipped into the warm leather chair, her hands poised inches from the static wheel before her. At Janice's urging, she wrapped her fingers around it with something akin to reverence. "It's so heavy," she said, making a concerted effort to cut the wheel 45 degrees. "Like it's mired in treacle."

"This ain't no Cessna, sweetheart," replied Janice, sliding into the pilot's seat. "We're talking about 17,000 pounds of state-of-the-art aircraft. Amelia knew her planes, but she wasn't the best of pilots." Alice raised her head, stricken. Janice felt compelled to temper her slanderous disclosure with, "Bar room scuttlebutt, kid. I shouldn't have repeated it."

Alice was grateful that Janice cared enough to explain, refreshing in a household where the adult word was law and she was expected to smile and accept, and never to question authority. She turned back towards the instrument panel, comfortable in the knowledge that she was in the presence of someone who viewed her as an equal. Sweat beaded her upper lip as her gaze ranged over the array of gauges and dials within arm's reach. The brake pedals in the floor were a stretch, but she could reach both throttle and flaps with ease. "How fast does she go? A hundred?"

"She cruises comfortably at ninety, but I've had her as high as 170." The teen whistled appreciatively while Janice neglected to mention that the latter speed had been achieved during an uncontrolled power dive in the midst of heavy turbulence. She regretted the omission, but only as long as it took Alice to broach the topic of taking the Electra aloft. "I think the heat's gotten to you, sweetie," Janice said with a smile. She stood, reaching for Alice's arm. "Come on, up with you."

Unconsciously, Alice's hands closed firmly over the wheel. "Give me one good reason." 

"I can give you a dozen, the most persuasive being that Mel would have my head and other pertinent body parts if your altitude exceeded eleven feet while in my presence."

Alice made noises of discontent, arguing with a child's logic that wasn't as much persuasive as it was pitiful. "You don't know that for certain. If you approach her the right way, take the right tack, she'll be a sport. Come on, Janice. This may be my one and only opportunity to fly an Electra."

Janice snorted in disbelief. "I'm afraid I'm gonna have to ground this flight of fancy..."

"I've logged over a hundred hours in our Cessna, and I learn really fast. It's not like I'd be going up alone..." Alice's formerly pleasant voice was now one half octave from annoying, but to her credit, she recognized the potentially devastating effects of long- term whining. The last thing she wanted to do was alienate her new friend. Reigning in her enthusiasm, she appeared genuinely contrite as she focused on the artificial horizon. In time, she heard Janice reclaim her seat; it was a wordless demand for an apology. Licking her lips, tasting salt, she said, "I just get carried away when it comes to flying. My mum says I'm too young to feel truly passionate about anything, but I feel passionate about flying."

Janice was struck by the sincerity in Alice's voice. As her eyes lighted on the vacant doorway of the house, she knew that she and Alice had passion in common. 

Chapter 5 

Standing in the large master bath clad only in a camisole and panties, Mel swept a scented wash cloth over her arms and neck, inhaling deeply as the exotic fragrance of lilies and sweet sage rose from her chest. Toujours Moi. A gift purchased in haste from a street peddler in Athens, expensive at forty American dollars an ounce. In a very short time, it had become her signature scent. She'd rarely dressed without first daubing a bit at the hollow of her throat or between her breasts, until the day four months later she had discovered it open and half evaporated on the window sill, a casualty of the merciless outback heat. After that, she used it sparingly, or not at all. Emptying the last few precious drops into the pool of cool water in the sink, she soaked the cloth, letting her hands linger a moment while her gaze traveled to the cracked mirror above the vanity. 

"Look at you," she said. Her voice sounded strange to her and she couldn't help but look around the room before returning to the scrutiny of her reflection. She hadn't been in a salon in two months, the length of her stay at Coolinga Station. Jack had taken the only car for the long trip to Sydney for his induction. So, here she stood, in the middle of the outback, without the amenities large cities could provide. Looking at her short, blunt nails in the water reminded her just how much she missed the little luxuries: a manicure, a facial. Her formerly alabaster skin was lightly tanned; the blue eyes some said were her best feature were naked, devoid of mascara or liner. Her raven hair was long...too long to wear in her trademark chignon, and so it hung loosely down her back...the way Janice liked it. Mel smiled, wringing out the cloth. Oh, if her genteel Southern mother could only see her now...She'd have apoplexy, she thought wryly.

She made one final pass down and under each arm with the cloth before pitching it into the hamper. Before leaving the bath, she took a moment to place a new cake of soap atop the towel draped over the side of a claw foot bathtub. She could no longer see steam rising from the water's surface, and without thrusting so much as a finger into its depths, she knew it was tepid, on its way to cool. "Serves her right..." she murmured as she moved through the alcove into the bedroom. A gray A-line skirt and simple print blouse had been laid out atop the faded bedspread. Both needed pressing, but they were clean. She dressed without thinking, slipping on a pair of black pumps, one of only two pairs of street shoes she'd brought with her. Facing the full-length mirror on the back of the door, she smoothed the lines of the skirt with her hands. She looked at her face in frank appraisal and thought that she just might join her mother in that fit of apoplexy. 

* * * * * * * * * *

"So, Alice, what're your hobbies? Apart from flying, that is?...More throttle... more... we're running out of track...now, pull back on the wheel...gently, don't yank on it. That's it. God, I love that feeling -- the wings growing fat with lift...the way you feel that little drop in the pit of your stomach when the wheels leave the track...Pull back just a hair, or you're gonna take the tops off those trees." Alice responded accordingly, pulling the wheel back towards her chest. Janice watched her face intently and conceded that the kid had a flyer's instincts. "When you're not flying Electras, what do you like to do?"

"I like school...English especially. Sister Bonaventure says it's one of the reasons my vocabulary is so impressive. I like sketching, too. No shortage of subjects out here," she added, trapping the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth in a display of extreme concentration. Reaching above her head, she brought the flaps up another notch without being told; looking at Janice was an afterthought.

Janice conveyed approval with a subtle nod. "You ever sketch Mel?"

Alice never took her eyes off the horizon. "I don't do people." Her left hand drifted down to an instrument box anchored to the floor between the seats. "Throttle?" 

"Listen for it. She'll let you know if you need more throttle... there'll be this little keening whine...Let her climb at her own rate...you don't rush a lady." She reached across the aisle and patted Alice's arm. "You're a natural, kid. Okay, when we reach two thousand feet..." she tapped one of the round gauges with her finger. "...watch this gauge...when that needle hits two-oh, level off and make your cruising speed eighty knots."

"Eighty knots. Check." Alice blew a soothing breath out between her lips and looked sideways at the altimeter. 

"You like Mel, don't you?" Janice persisted.

Alice shrugged, grateful for the relief it brought her aching shoulders. "She's all right, I guess. Two thousand on the nose..." She brought the wheel forward slightly, until the artificial horizon reflected level flight. "I've learnt not to become too attached to them...Dad's girlfriends, I mean. They don't seem to stick around very long."

Janice thought the girl's voice sounded distinctly, and prematurely, cynical. "Mel hasn't said anything about leaving, has she?" She took note of the girl's white knuckles. "Loosen up on the wheel. Grip it like an egg."

Alice flexed her fingers briefly, her palms seated lightly against the surface of the wheel. "No, she hasn't said anything, but I don't think it'll be long."

Janice's brow furrowed. "What makes you say that?"

"Just a feeling. She seems...I dunno... unhappy. I think she misses her old life."

"Her old life..." Janice echoed. Her heart thumped in her chest; she was sure its deafening beat was reverberating off the walls of the cockpit, but Alice's ears were primed only for the voice of the Electra. "Okay, apply the left rudder...gently...and make a wide turn to the right...That's it. Take your time. You've got plenty of sky. What makes you think she misses her old life? Has she said anything?"

Alice eased off the rudder pedal, her face slick with perspiration. When she had once again achieved level flight, she chanced a sidelong look at her companion and wondered just how much she should divulge. What were her perceptions and opinions to Janice if the only thing she had to back them was a feeling, an instinct. Although, Janice was a pilot, and 'A good pilot,' her father had once said, 'keeps close company with instinct.' Alice decided to take the risk; the odds seemed in her favor. "She hasn't said so...not in so many words..." Following Janice's orders to throttle down a notch and look for Coolinga's track, she once again turned her studious gaze to the world outside the windscreen, a wide brown scene painted in a neat oblong frame. Comfortable with her newly-acquired flight skills, and thrilled at her instructor's seemingly nonchalant manner, Alice felt compelled to clarify her earlier statement. "She never said anything to me, but I could tell when university contacted her in September that she was interested. I just got the feeling that if Dad hadn't pressed her to give it up, she'd have been at Kakadu." Alice frowned, slightly uncomfortable with having voiced her father's shortcomings to a stranger. "Dad thinks a woman's place is in the kitchen, not on the dig."

"Philistine," grumbled Janice under her breath. She looked at Alice, who appeared not to have heard. "Okay...got the windsock in sight?"

Alice squinted at the horizon. "Yes, it's just over there..." She pointed an index finger as a gesture of clarity and adjusted the craft's flight path accordingly, turning the wheel forty degrees while sparing the altimeter and speed indicator a glance. "Eighty knots...isn't that too fast?"

"You might cut the throttle back...just a hair...you don't wanna stall." Janice leaned back in her chair, lacing her fingers across her middle, affecting an air of nonchalance. "So, other than that one disagreement about the Kakadu dig, you think Mel and your dad get along okay."

Alice's fingers grazed the flaps control above her head, her lips moving soundlessly for a moment before giving voice to her thoughts. "Promise this is just between you and me?"

Janice drew a cross over her heart and held up her hand. "Word of honor...Whatever you tell me doesn't leave this cockpit."

Alice nodded; it seemed like an oath she could live with. "I don't think she and Dad have...you know...done it."

"Done it," Janice repeated before realization dawned. "Oh. It." She shifted in her seat and peeled the shirt away from her skin; the air inside the small cockpit was rank and close.  

Alice could sense Janice's discomfort. Sex, in general, was a source of curiosity for any healthy teen. Sex, or the lack of it, beneath her own roof was sufficient cause for speculation. Feathering the flaps back to half, she ventured, "You like her, don't you?" 

Janice was unprepared for a frontal assault. "Mel? Of course I do."

"No, I mean...you like her. You love her." 

Janice touched her tongue nervously to the center of her upper lip. "You know what, kiddo... it's none of your business."

At the same moment that Alice realized she had overstepped her bounds, the dusty red-track runway gained definition, rushing towards the nose of the Electra at breakneck speed. She twisted the wheel in her slick hands, her voice vaguely urgent. "Janice...should I cut the throttle or pull back on the wheel at this point?" 

"At this point?" Janice gazed mildly out the windscreen and reached for the cigar in her breast pocket. "This is where you crash and burn, sweetheart."

Chapter 6 

"Just like that?!" Alice was incredulous, unwilling to believe that a mere few seconds distraction could have such dire repercussions. "But I only took my eyes away for a second!" Those same eyes swept over the busy instrument panel where the gauges registered zero across the board: zero altitude, zero speed. She exhaled with force, collapsing like a rag doll against the steering column, her brow shiny with sweat. Momentarily she felt a hand on her shoulder and without looking up, she knew Janice was crouched beside her. "Five seconds... five, tops..." she muttered, and her shoulder received a sympathetic squeeze. At last, she looked up and regarded Janice with genuine regret. "I killed us."

"Yup," was the minimal reply. Janice stood, tucking the cigar between her teeth before adding wistfully, "Such a waste. I was so young." 

Alice threw up her hands in frustration and sat back so forcefully that the co-pilot's seat groaned in protest. Wetting her lips, she stared hard at the unslaked earth beyond the co-pilot's window, earth that a few seconds earlier she had regarded as the Electra's undoing. As her heartbeat slowed to normal, she marveled at the combined effect of Janice's powers of suggestion and her own vivid imagination. She looked at the perspiration pooled in the creases of her palms. It had seemed so real. Re-running the scenario in her mind, options that might've spared the Electra and her passengers occurred to her, and she was visibly eager to put them to the test. "Okay, Janice, I think I know what I did wrong before."

"Oh, you do."

"Can we take her up again?" Alice ventured. "This time for real. Just once around the field?"

Janice loosed a hoot. "I told you: Mel would have my head." She hefted the satchel and slung it over her shoulder. "Come on, I need a bath. I'm starting to offend myself." To her surprise, her pronouncement was accepted without argument or complaint, and by the time she had boosted Alice through the hatch, the conversation had shifted from Electras to the blurry orange sun beating down on them with ferocious commitment. "Is this what the locals call a fair cow of a day?"

"Crikey! You're joking,right?" replied Alice, as her rear made contact with the super-heated metal skin of the Electra. "The real heat hasn't even begun yet."

"Swell." Stepping on the arm of the pilot's seat, Janice passed the satchel into Alice's waiting hands. "Careful with that," she cautioned. "Precious cargo in there."

"I've got it," replied Alice. She slid down the fuselage to stand on the wing. She heard someone call her name from ground level and had to shield her eyes to make out two silhouettes framed in the sun. "Dinah?"

The smaller of the two figures stepped forward, into the shadow cast by one of the Electra's massive wings. "G'day, Alice." She smiled, her teeth a white slash in her ebony face. Her features were pinched and tight as she regarded her contemporary and the unfamiliar craft beneath her feet. "This is new. Is it yours?"

Alice squatted on the wing, bringing the satchel to rest at her side. "Wish it were. That your dad with you?" The second Aborigine, clad in wrinkled khakis and a denim shirt opened to the waist, joined Dinah in the welcomed shade of the wing; the ground was cool beneath his bare feet. Alice greeted him with casual respect. "G'day, Mr. Bonner." Neville Bonner was heavy-browed and broad-nosed; as his large frame intimated, he both spoke and moved with economy. "Alice." He nodded at her, and then his large yellow eyes shifted to Janice as she emerged from the plane.

"Alice, who are you..." Janice froze momentarily, 120 pounds of startled archeologist suspended in the open hatch by her considerable upper body strength. Green eyes, as no-nonsense as a jeweler's scale, moved from daughter to father as his long, ropy arms helped Alice to the ground. 

"Janice, this is my friend, Dinah..." Alice put her arm around Dinah, as if to demonstrate the level of their friendship. "And her dad, Neville Bonner. This is Dr. Janice Covington... the Electra's hers."

Janice jumped from the wing unassisted. "G'day, Mr. Bonner." Tribal body paint, visible on his arms and chest, was similar to that adorning the bodies of her Aborigine diggers at Kakadu - hard-working, family-oriented men who kept to themselves. She watched a black fly make lazy progress across Bonner's brow as she struggled to recall the name of the tribe. She hazarded a guess. "Alawirrynu?" 

Neville grinned, displaying teeth that had seen better days. "Gupapygnu."

"I was close," Janice conceded with a self-deprecating grin. "You're a long way from home." 

"Not really," Dinah interjected, her eyes narrowing to slits as she scrutinized the young woman in masculine clothing. She had only ever met a dozen whites in her young lifetime, and she could, without a twinge of conscience, relegate half of that number to gumafj, the Gupapyg word for abyss, the place you never look back. But she liked Janice at once. "Our home is beyond the billabong...There..." She thrust a dark finger west, in the direction of the merciless sun, but not one of the four spared the locale a glance before she inquired delicately of Alice, "Your mum about?" 

"She's back in Adelaide. She'll be flying up next month to collect me, so you're safe for now," replied Alice with a knowing wink. 

"Well, if you'll excuse me..." Janice relieved Alice of her satchel. "I have a date with a bar of soap." Neville, who had been standing nearest her, smiled politely and nodded. "Nice to meet you both." Dinah, whom Janice perceived as garrulous by Aborigine standards, merely grunted and took Alice by the arm; the girls were head to head, immersed in whispered conversation before Janice set foot on the verandah.

The screen door opened with a tortured screech, and closed with the report of a gunshot. Janice's reaction was as ingrained as breathing: she ducked before she could stop herself. "Jesus!" she exclaimed.

"The spring's broken," said Mel. She stood at the kitchen threshold, holding the door open with the toe of her shoe. There was an apron tied loosely around her waist and her hands were dusted with flour. "You have to let it back gently."

"Thanks for the warning." Janice gave a nervous laugh and approached Mel, stopping halfway across the room, the large leather sofa between them. "You baked bread. I can smell it." Even from this distance, it was more than flour and paprika; on the warm air was the familiar scent of sage...it was an invitation to sweet memories.

"Sourdough," Mel replied simply, displaying her powdered palms. She let the door swing shut behind her, committed to the conversation.

My favorite. Janice's throat tightened, unwitting accomplice to the foolish grin that was no doubt pasted on her face. The situation begged for a snappy retort. A quick comeback was a damned religious imperative, but her brain wasn't on speaking terms with her tongue. No other person on earth could steal coherent thought from Janice Covington faster than Melinda Pappas...in an apron...with dough on her hands. She made a beautiful thief. "Sourdough." She blinked, as if waking from a coma. "Good." Sourdough good? Covington, you ole smoothy you! She's reduced you to a monosyllabic Neanderthal. Sourdough good. Very slick. She inhaled deeply, glad for the segue occasioned by an unfortunate whiff of herself. "Bathroom?"

"Through there." Mel gestured with her hand, raining flour upon the hardwood floor. "There's towels and soap...water's lukewarm, I'm afraid." She couldn't resist the dig, "You ought not'a dawdled."

Janice smiled unconsciously. "Yes, ma'am." She popped a mock salute, turned on her heel and left Mel to decipher the mood in the room. 

Mel's puzzlement and the faint line between her brows faded with the feather-light touch at her elbow. "What...oh, Alice...I didn't hear you come in." She touched the girl's hair and face and smiled with genuine affection just before nag mode kicked in. Wrinkling her nose, she said, "You smell like a stable. Go and wash up for supper."

Alice tossed a glance over her shoulder at the fragmented silhouettes beyond the screen door, and followed Mel into the kitchen. "Can I help with something?"

"Hands," replied Mel. She gave her own a cursory swipe with the corner of her apron and then used the same corner to grip the oven door. Using a fork, she noted the consistency of the veal and the color of the juices bleeding from the puncture site. "Almost there." 

Alice watched her from her place at the sink, hands thrust under the running water as she perfected her approach. "Mel, you remember my friend, Dinah, don't you?"

Mel's head disappeared into the icebox as she rooted around for the butter. "Who?"  

"Dinah...you know...you met her last month when her father, Neville came to fix the loo; she's Neville's daughter." 

"I think you have made that abundantly clear," replied Mel patiently. She set the butter dish on the butcher's block and closed the icebox door, giving Alice her undivided attention. "Now, is this conversation leading up to somethin', or are you just killin' time?"

Alice wiped her hands briefly on a dish towel, but they were still wringing wet as she tossed it aside. "Dinah and Neville are out front. There's a corroboree tonight. I've been invited."

"I see." Mel studied the girl's hopeful face and weighed the options: she had a responsibility to Jack and to Peggy. She had made promises to them both. Alice had been present at that same meeting in September, the day before her father's induction. Mel remembered that although Peggy Greenway had been cordial and polite, she had never set foot inside the house Jack and Mel shared. Instead she had leaned on her car, one arm draped protectively about her daughter, and laid the ground rules out for all parties. She had been especially careful to wring a promise from Mel that Alice would have no intimate contact with the local aborigines, whom Peggy deemed to be a bad influence on her only child. She, Mel, had grudgingly agreed to keep the two apart, but she vividly remembered a clandestine wink in Alice's direction as she shook her mother's hand on the deal. She had so wanted to be the good guy in her new role as stepmother. Now, a thousand miles away, Peggy Greenway was calling her bluff. "I made a promise to your mother."

"I remember," replied Alice. "But Mel, this is different."

"How is it different?"

"Dinah's father is sending her to school in Perth. I won't see her again until next break." Alice advanced until she was within touching distance of Mel; she knew the value of passive intimidation. "The corroboree's a going away celebration. It's an honor to be invited." Mel nodded solemnly, feeling slightly claustrophobic. Alice applied a verbal wedge. "It would be an insult to refuse."

"And you were raised better than that, is that it?" Mel asked as she pushed open the kitchen door, Alice hot on her heels. She stopped short of the front door. She could see Dinah and Neville through the screen. As their boundaries had been set years before, both stood near the Electra, talking animatedly between themselves, as if the drama inside the house did not concern them. "The answer is no, Alice." Before Alice could open her mouth in protest, Mel elaborated. "We have company this evening. Imagine how Janice would feel if you abandoned her at the first opportunity."

Alice shifted where she stood, staring holes into Mel's back. "Janice would understand," she replied confidently. "Ask her."

Mel turned at the waist. "This is not a democracy. I am the adult." Sometimes adults make unpopular choices. "You are the child. Now, my mind is made up," she said, wishing her voice sounded more resolute.

Quietly, her voice void of bitterness, Alice said, "Can I ask why?"

Mel was impressed by the quiet strength in the girl's voice. "Because it's late...because I don't know their character..."

"You know mine," Alice countered levelly.

Mel nodded, tight-lipped. It was a good argument. She felt well and truly caught between Scylla and Charybdis, and it was a trap of her own making. A final guilty glance at the two figures beneath the Electra's wing, and she turned again for the kitchen. She stopped briefly, the flat of her hand against the swinging door and without turning, she said, "Go on and give them your regrets, and then come back in and set the table." She stood there, frozen, listening for an angry retort and heard only the indifferent groan of the door as it opened and closed on the meager rapport she had once shared with Alice.

"You okay?"

Mel felt a hand between her shoulder blades; it would have been so easy to turn around and melt into what would surely have been a welcomed embrace. "You heard?" The warm hand migrated to her arm, imparting an affirming squeeze. "Oh, Janice...I have just made a horrible mistake." 

Janice turned her forcibly until they were face to face; the blue eyes that met hers were clearly troubled. "Nothing that can't be put right again. I mean, who but us is ever gonna know that -"

"I promised her mother I would look after her." 

"And you're doing a great job; she's a terrific kid with a good head on her shoulders." Mel was quick to nod agreement, and Janice took advantage of that. "Then trust her."

"I want to, but if somethin' were to happen to her -"

"She'll be fine. She's more mature and more responsible than half the adults I know. I won't name names," she said smiling before her lips dissolved into a serious line. "Be her friend, Mel...She's got a mother." Mel's eyes shifted from anxious to wounded, and instantly Janice regretted her tendency to speak every thought on her mind. She had stepped into the middle of a situation where her opinion was not wanted, needed or welcomed. Worse still, she had offended her hostess and impugned her parenting skills. Open mouth, insert foot. "Well, I've insulted you. My work here is done," she announced, her cherubic face displaying a devilish grin that was just as likely to hinder as it was to help. She searched Mel's cherished face for signs of forgiveness; the smallest smile would have sent her off to soak with a lighter heart. She turned and walked towards the bedroom door, pulling the shirt tail from her jodhpurs, giving the offended party every opportunity to put her ill-mannered guest at ease. But once she was on the other side of the rough-hewn door, peeling the sticky blouse from her body, she gave up hopes that Mel could forgive her for this breach of etiquette. If she had harbored any doubts that she was welcomed at Coolinga, welcomed back into Mel's life, they had just been confirmed with deafening silence.

Mel had taken up a position at the front door, her nose inches from the screen. On the other side, black flies buzzed and knitted their legs against the tightly?woven metal, and beyond the flies, under the searing outback sun, Alice said her farewells to Dinah. She couldn't make out the words, but the gestures ?hands swiping at tears, a last lingering embrace ?spoke volumes. Neville Bonner, his dark face an impassive mask, endured in silence the girlish expressions of sadness and regret, but as his daughter dropped her arms to her sides at last, he stepped forward and took Alice by the shoulders. Mel watched as he spoke earnestly to her, gesturing once towards the house before placing his rough, dry lips against her forehead. Mel regretted that her position did not afford her a better view of Alice's face as Dinah moved away, walking backwards in her father's shadow returning Alice's wave before turning into the sun. 

The solitary figure left standing by the plane placed her hands on her hips, her chest rising and falling in a long sigh of resignation. She turned and walked towards the house. Mel watched them, the retreating figures of Dinah and her father, and Alice as she approached the door; she was impressed that neither girl turned to look back at the other. She pushed the door open as Alice stepped onto the verandah, aware that she was probably the last person in the world the girl wanted to see at this moment.

"Thanks," Alice murmured as she brushed past Mel on her way to the kitchen.

Thanks? Okay, scan for sarcasm. Nothing. Mel closed the heavy door with care, and even before she pushed through the swinging kitchen door, she could hear the clatter of silverware being drawn from drawers.

Alice had spread a good quality lace cloth on the table beneath windows that opened onto a view of the paddock and windmill. As she carefully laid out the silver, the great knife on the outside, fork on the inside debate raged in her head. She heard Mel enter the room, and without looking up, she said, "You might want to check your bread."

Mel reacted as if startled. "My bread...?" A quick glance inside the oven. "Oh, my..." Using a couple of paper thin pot holders, she carefully moved the baking pan from oven to butcher's block. "I think it's alright," she said, poking the golden crust with a finger. "You just narrowly averted a disaster." Alice conjured up a smile and collected three mismatched plates from the cupboard. As she passed Mel to set the table, she was humming. "Just two place settings, Alice."

Alice turned the plates flat against her middle. "Am I sent to bed without supper?"

"I don't know what they're servin' at the corroboree," replied Mel quietly, moving the length of the kitchen. "Probably somethin' still wigglin'" She took the plates from Alice's hands and addressed her seriously, so there was no misunderstanding. "We'll miss your company at supper."

"You mean it?" Her face lit up with a jaw?breaking grin. "Aw, Mel, you're the best!"

Mel held up her hands in an attempt to stem the tide of enthusiasm. "Hold your horses now...Go splash some water on your face and run a brush through your hair..." She followed Alice into her bedroom, all the while issuing advice and directives. "I declare...you look like a ragamuffin. And you have Mr. Bonner walk you back afterwards. I don't care how late it is. I won't sleep a wink until you're back safe and sound."

"Can't I stay the night?" Alice dragged a brush through her hair, from roots to end. "Since it's Dinah's last night here...I could be home first thing in the morning."

Mel exhaled wearily. "I must have 'sucker' written all over my face. Alright," she conceded, jabbing an index finger at Alice's chest. "But you be home bright and early."

Alice tossed the brush onto her cluttered bureau and presented herself for inspection: dusty chambray work shirt, khaki slacks rife with horse hair and sweat. "Look alright?"

Mel knew her opinions didn't matter one way or the other, but she thought it sweet of the girl to ask. "You'll do...Better run if you wanna catch up to them."

"Strewth, yes!" Alice barreled out her bedroom door with the enthusiasm of a freshman fullback, leaving Mel rooted to the spot by sheer disbelief. 

"Not so much as a thank you. Well..." She turned to leave and saw Alice's dirty battered hat, with its sweat?stained kangaroo?hide band, lying brim down on the bed. "Honestly," she said, picking it up. "Forget her head if it wasn't attached." She shrugged and caught her reflection in the mirror, breathing genuine surprise into the word, "Sucker."

"Hey, Mel?" Alice's reflection joined hers in the mirror. "I ?"

"Forgot your hat," Mel finished for her as she settled the hat atop Alice's head, tilting it first to one side, then to the other, then back until it sat jauntily on the crown of her head. "Oh, well, you wear it however you like." 

"I wanted to say thank you, Mel." Alice straightened the hat, and in the ensuing silence, she could tell that her expression of gratitude had caught Mel off guard. "Those should have been the first words out of my mouth. I just wanted you to know that I really appreciate this, and I promise," she elaborated, her words taking on the weight of a blood oath. "Not one word of this will ever reach my mother's ears."

"Better not," Mel cautioned, smiling crookedly. "Or you'll have company in the dog house." She tucked an errant strand of hair behind Alice's ear and ran her finger the length of a strong jaw; although Pappas family etiquette warranted a greater display of affection, she knew that not everyone was comfortable with such things. "Okay, scoot."

Alice stepped back, eager to be on her way and yet careful not to offend Mel with a too rapid exit. "You're okay, Mel."

Mel laughed. "The most tolerable in a long line of fiancées?"

"The most," Alice agreed, backpedaling from the room before turning and gaining momentum as she plunged through the screen door, heedless of the explosive return as it fell, unchecked, back to its jamb. * * * * * * * * * * CHHH?POK! Janice sat bolt upright, sending a small tidal wave over the side of the tub. She had drifted off in her tepid, wet cocoon only to awaken abruptly to the sound of a gunshot.  Oh, Jesus. She's killed her. She put the soap, which had refused to lather in the hard water, back into the soap dish and stood up in the tub, murky water running off her well?toned body in sheets. She wrapped the large bath towel around her as she heard the bedroom door open. "Mel?" As there wasn't a shy bone in her body, Janice stepped around the corner and breathed a sigh of relief. "Mel...are you okay? I thought I heard a ?" 

"The door. Remember?" Mel cast a lingering glance over Janice's exposed body. There was little she hadn't seen ? in half light, in Braille in the dark ? but this was different. Full afternoon sunlight was cascading through the bedroom windows, bouncing off the damp blonde hair, soaking into the golden skin of her exposed legs and shoulders. Mel tilted her head; she didn't remember that little starburst?shaped scar on Janice's collarbone; it looked new. She had an almost uncontrollable urge to kiss it.

Janice was encouraged to be the subject of such thorough scrutiny, and so it took a supreme effort to pull the towel tightly around her and tuck a corner into her cleavage. She even managed to conjure up a suitably flustered expression. "Hey, how would you feel if I looked at you that way?"

Flattered. Mel blushed, and her eyes instantly found other targets on the floor of the room. "I'm sorry. I just came in..." She bent and gathered a discarded pair of jodhpurs and the grimy white blouse. "...to collect these. I'm startin' a load of wash."

"Mel, you don't have to do that...Matter of fact, I'd prefer it if you left the blouse especially. I don't have a clean one to wear."

"Well, if you think I am going to let you sit down at my supper table in this ?" she held the blouse away from her body, out of respect for her nose. "You have another think comin'." She added the white brassiere to the pile in her arms.

"Aw, no, not that, too! C'mon, Mel...what am I supposed to do?" She threw up her hands. "Turn up in a towel?"

Mel backed towards the door, a quirky smile on her face. "Well, dinner will be informal."

Janice put her hands on her hips. "Don't tempt me, sweetheart." 

Mel moved towards the open bedroom door, turning at the threshold. "I'll find you something to wear. Alice probably has somethin' that'll fit you. Be right back."

Janice dropped onto the bed and crossed her legs, the towel riding up to mid thigh. "So help me, she brings me anything with cute little animals on it, I'll be sick," she muttered, her fingers tented open on either side of her, testing the spring of the mattress. She hadn't slept in a bed in five weeks, and the clean linens and firm mattress were like a siren's call. She fell lazily backwards, eyes closed, with her hands cradling her head.

That's how Mel found her minutes later. She stood in the doorway, a starched white blouse dangling from the fingers of one hand, while those of the other established a deathgrip on the doorknob. There was nothing furtive in her observation; Janice need only look up to see her. In the end, it was precisely the idea of those jade green eyes opening and fixing on her own that prompted Mel to slip the clean blouse over the inside doorknob and leave the room. 

Padding down the hall, mindful of the report of her heels on the hardwood floor, she wondered at her attraction to Janice Covington, a woman with a bit of dash and a predilection for hazard. She was a cynical, brilliant archeologist with the gift of keen insight. The image of Janice, stretched out on her bed clad only in a towel, crept into her mind, and she chased it away as counter-productive to her current retrospection. 

That was her gift - to be able to switch mindsets in milliseconds and to concentrate her intellect on one thing exclusively. She made an audible sound of amusement as she entered the kitchen. Wonder who I got that from?  Her own background consisted of mostly?absentee parents; she had been raised by an affectionate grandmother, with only occasional input from her mother. There had been select boarding schools in the Carolinas, and she was an alumnus of the college where her father had been dean. Although she was not without intelligence, she had to concede that she had traded on the family name and her father's reputation more often than she cared to admit. The name Melvin Pappas, mentioned in the right circles, opened doors and minds alike. And after his accidental death on a dig in March of 1940, she had flown to Istanbul, at her mother's request, to close his affairs. Chief among those duties had been replying to unanswered correspondence. There had been stacks of letters, unopened bills, and a dozen yellowed telegrams, one of which led her to Macedonia where a hail of bullets awaited her. In the end, it had been her father's good name, dropped in the receptive ear of Dr. Janice Covington that led her back to the half-nude vision recumbent on her bed. She didn't know whether to curse her father or to thank him.

She gave the bread a half an hour to rest and used her time well, slicing the veal thin and layering it upon a garishly?painted platter. She ladled new potatoes and au jus over the meat and placed a few sprigs of parsley along the perimeter, hiding the chain of purple daisies that bordered the platter. Along with the bread and the fresh green beans she'd prepared, there were green olives and sweetbreads like her grandmother used to make. It was a great deal of food. She and Alice would be dining on leftovers for a week. She took the platter to the table then lay a small dish of fresh butter beside the bread. After folding the linen napkins in a fan pattern, she swapped the placement of knives and forks and stood back to admire the table. "Well, it's not Delmonico's, but it'll have to do." 

"It all looks and smells marvelous, Mel."

Mel jumped, her hand to her heart. "Janice...I didn't hear you come in. Did you have a nice nap?" 

Janice shrugged and dug her hands into the front pockets of her slacks, feeling decidedly ill at ease in the borrowed blouse, which fit well about the waist and shoulders, but cut her just slightly across the bustline. It gave her a modicum of comfort to know that she couldn't slip effortlessly into the clothes of a thirteen year old girl. "You couldn't resist, could you?" 

Mel's eyes jumped from the firm breasts beneath the straining buttons to Janice's face too quickly to disguise what could only be described as honest-to-goodness lust. "Beg pardon?"

Janice fingered the colorful embroidery just above her left breast. Whomever the seamstress was, she had been a true artisan - the words St. Ignatius' School for Young Ladies were plainly visible in Shelley?Volante font?style. "Is this your idea of a joke?"

Mel couldn't suppress a laugh. "Janice, honestly, I never even bothered to look. I chose that one because it's cut large." Janice merely grunted her displeasure and screwed her face into a scowl. "Would you rather it were emblazoned Our Lady of Perpetual Debauchery?"

Janice folded her arms across her chest. "Honestly? Yes." She smiled wryly and, in doing so, changed the whole complexion of the conversation. "But I suppose it'll have to do."

"You are truly magnanimous, Dr. Covington. Would you care to be seated?" 

Mel held out a chair, indicating that Janice should take what was traditionally the head of the household's seat. The implication was not lost on Janice. "Only two place settings?" she inquired as she pulled the chair up to the table. "Alice not joining us?"

"I sent her on to the party." Mel opened the icebox. "It seemed the thing to do if I wanted to live with myself." 

Janice swiveled in the chair and crossed one leg over the other. "Was she being difficult?"

"Just the opposite," came the muffled reply as Mel groped about in the icebox. "She was civil and mature." She poked her head above the door and narrowed her eyes at Janice. "You know how that grates on me."

"She's got you here, Mel," chided Janice, displaying an upturned pinky finger. "Admit it."

"I knew I could count on you to be sympathetic and understandin'. Remind me again why I asked you to supper?"

"Because maybe you missed me..." She pinched her thumb and forefinger together. "...maybe just this much?"

Rather than confirm or deny Janice's intimation, Mel opted to change the subject. "What would you like to drink?"

"What've you got?"

Mel moved items from front to side, clearing a path for her reach. "Simply everythin'. There's milk and lemon squeeze...water, tea...oh, and some perfectly awful local beer." Mel displayed an unlabeled amber bottle. "I think it's bottled in a woolshed someplace. I don't recommend it."

"That'll do." Janice crossed the floor and took the bottle from Mel. Having been at the very back of the icebox for some time, it was half frozen, just the way she liked it. "You know me: I like living dangerously." She held the bottle up to the light as she walked back to the table and judged the meager amount of sediment floating within to be acceptable. 

"Why don't you put on some music?" Mel, her hands occupied with condiments, gestured with her chin to a standing oak phonograph beneath a curio shelf.

"Any preferences?" Janice asked, as she raised the battered lid of the phonograph. "I think I spoke too soon." She picked up a sleeveless 78 with more care than it had previously been shown in its lifetime. "We have a very scratchy copy of...ooh, Noel Coward." She made a face as she looked at Mel. "I think I was ten when this was recorded."

"The phonograph was a wedding gift...for Jack and Peggy." Mel popped the cap from Janice's beer and began serving the veal. "I think those albums are probably original to it."

"Billie Holiday," Janice crooned. She removed the slick black record from its sleeve with care and held it by her fingertips. "With Teddy Wilson. Naw, Mel, this is relatively new." It wasn't just new, it was pristine, and had, in fact, probably never been played at all, very likely due to the color of the artist. Considering what little she knew of Peggy Greenway and her narrow opinion of the Aborigines, she marveled that the album had been allowed in the house at all. "You Go To My Head, More Than You Know..." Song titles that might have easily been describing Mel, a possibility that was given further credence by the next song title: Them There Eyes. She looked to the table, where Mel had taken the chair kitty corner from her own, and seated the record beneath the needle, setting the volume to 3 on the dial. She opened the double doors on the phonograph's face to reveal the speaker as You Go To My Head opened with a combustible alto sax. She was sitting beside Mel shaking the napkin into her lap as a clarinet riff paved the way for Holiday's one?of?a?kind vocal stylings. The timbre was just a touch cynical, and Janice knew, without actually knowing Holiday personally, that she had been burned at love before. "This is nice, Mel," she murmured, feeling decidedly warm beneath the thin blouse. She looked down at her plate, trisected neatly with meat, starch and vegetable, all carefully prepared by a talented cook, and yet nothing looked as enticing as the woman seated across the table from her.

"Janice..." Mel turned an anticipatory gaze on her guest. "You aren't eating."

"Savoring the moment, Mel," Janice replied. She sliced into her veal with enthusiasm, but it was all for show. Food no longer held any interest for her. Mel's proximity had whetted a different kind of appetite. She lay the knife across the edge of the plate, dropped her free hand into her lap and speared the vaguely rare meat with a fork. When she looked up, she found Mel's eyes waiting, alight. Before she had taken one bite of veal, she was already anticipating dessert. 

Chapter 8 

"...sandstone ramparts hundreds of feet high, miles wide, pockmarked with caves." Janice absently swirled the warm beer at the bottom of the bottle. "But you know something, Mel, and this might be the beer talking, but I think it's the sort of dig I could just walk away from. The whole place just has a...a feel about it...more churchyard than graveyard."

"Kakadu's a spiritual place," Mel replied. "Small wonder you're uncomfortable. Your workers...are they local to Kakadu?" Janice nodded. "There's your problem." The serving fork hovered over the meat platter, targeting a slice of veal. "More veal?"

Janice waved her hand, fending off a third helping. "It's standard practice to employ the natives, Mel."

"You haven't found anything they didn't permit you to find. The real finds, the genuine rarities will elude you as long as you use locals to point the way." Mel tucked an olive between her perfect white teeth before sucking the pimento from its salty green blanket.

Janice was entranced, holding the last sip of beer in her mouth briefly before swallowing. "And what would you have done differently? Hire outsiders?"

Mel lifted an eyebrow. "If I had taken the job, then, yes, I would have imported a crew, but that's a moot point, Janice. The dig is yours." She laid her fork and knife across the plate, signaling an end to the meal, and to the discussion.

But Janice was persistent. "Why didn't you take the job, Mel? You were local; you were Moffat's first choice ??"

"Because I was local and for no other reason." Mel folded her napkin in quarters before tucking it beneath the edge of her plate. "Jack said it was probably because I work cheap, and it's true. I would've paid Moffat for the pleasure of headin' the dig."

"Instead, here you sit...one of a handful of warm bodies in a three hundred mile radius." Janice's voice held the unmistakable edge of sarcasm as she quipped, "Flies, heat, isolation: I can see what you like about it." Further conversation on the dubious virtues of the outback faded away on the dying strings of a violin passage. For a moment there was only the ghost of a heartbeat, the rhythmic thump thump thump of the needle as it rode the groove of dead air between tracks before sliding into the last song on the record. Carelessly, Janice's personal favorite on an album full of memorable tunes, began with the incomparable piano work of Teddy Wilson. Two beers brave, carelessly might also have described the way she looked Mel in the eye and said, "So tell me about Jack."

Mel pursed her lips and sat up straight, lacing her fingers around her water glass. Her eyes held Janice whole as she groped for a response. One of the advantages of outback isolation had been the almost total lack of peer judgment. Unfortunately, that same isolation left her unprepared to field even the most harmless inquiries about her relationship with Jack. "What's there to say? He's divorced as you know...a cargo pilot in the RAAF...He's 42..." She let her voice trail off, giving the impression that she had imparted all that she knew about the man. 

"Forty two..." Janice whistled softly, one short note of disbelief as she enjoyed Mel's discomfort. "What does he look like?"

"Dark hair, dark eyes...tall...my head fits just beneath his jaw when we dance," Mel replied with a little smile as a memory warmed her. In the smoky warmth of a first floor hotel room in Athens - champagne on the bedside table, Cole Porter on the radio, and a crown of honey?blonde hair tucked neatly beneath her chin while warm breath traveled the valley between her breasts and four bare feet interlocked, puzzle pieces on a hardwood floor... Indelible little details of first?time foreplay. The memory was so vivid, yet made painful by the realization that that life was behind her.

"He's tall, I got that much." Janice's fingers beat a lazy tattoo on the empty beer bottle. "What else? How did the two of you meet?" Mel stood abruptly, taking up her plate and glass. "Mel?" Her eyes followed Mel's retreating form across the kitchen. "What's wrong?"

"Nothin's wrong," Mel replied, as she stacked the dinner plates by the sink. "I don't understand your interest in Jack, that's all. Another beer?" 

Janice waved a hand dismissively. "Hey, you brought him up. Besides, I think I deserve to know a little bit about the man. After all, I'm sitting in his chair...eating his food..."

"Sleepin' in his bed...Goldilocks." Mel returned to the table for the meat platter. 

"Speaking of sleeping in his bed ?" Janice began pointedly. "How is he in that area?"

Mel's jaw dropped noticeably. "I don't know why I'm surprised you asked that. With your ego, you'd be forever beggin' comparison."

Janice laughed, but there was no heart in it. "I have a healthy ego, as you pointed out."

"With good reason," Mel replied as she turned away. "You spoiled me for any future lovers."

"And that's a bad thing?" 

"It is, yes," said Mel. "When you're tryin' to start a new life."

Janice shrugged. "What was so wrong with the old one?" A reply was not immediately forthcoming. Mel's back was to her, but Janice could see her hands were still and her head was down. "Mel?"

"He's a dear, dear, man, Janice." Mel began quietly. "He's kind, sympathetic, funny. I don't know where I would be if I hadn't met him when I did."

Janice fought to keep her composure. "You mean it was just a matter of timing."

"In a way...yes." At the butcher's block, Mel wrapped the leftover veal in waxed paper, secretly relieved to have something to do with her hands. "We met the very day my steamer docked in Sydney Harbor. I was comin' down the ramp, he was seein' his niece off. I broke a heel off my shoe and would've pitched right over the side if he hadn't been there."

"A real Sir Galahad," mumbled Janice, although it occurred to her, somewhat cynically, she conceded, that the niece Jack had been seeing off at the dock was very likely not his niece at all. Naturally, she was alone in her suspicions. 

"He insisted I share his cab, waited with me while my shoe was repaired and bought me a lovely supper." Mel slid the wax package into the icebox and stood in the open doorway, savoring the chill air on her body. "It was the best possible introduction to the country."

"Better than gunfire and death threats?" quipped Janice with mock surprise. 

"I know that tone, Janice," said Mel, moving reluctantly from the icebox to the table. "And it sounds suspiciously like jealousy." 

"Not at all," replied Janice, quick to dismiss the notion. "On second thought, I will take another beer." She rose from her chair. "You want a beer, Mel?" She could feel Mel's eyes pursue her into the kitchen.

"You don't have to be jealous, Janice." Mel's voice was kind and soothing, and she meant well, but she couldn't help saying the wrong thing as a general rule. "You're not in competition with Jack."

"I know that, and I am not jealous." Janice opened and closed the icebox without removing anything. "What I am is hot. It's hot in here."

From her place at the table, Mel gazed out the window where the windmill cast long shadows upon the hard?baked ground, blood?red in the twilight. "Sun's settin'...Why don't we take this conversation out to the verandah...where it's cool?" She switched off the phonograph and closed the cover. 

"Peachy." Janice bit back a more acidic retort, dismayed at the possibility of an in?depth conversation on the merits of her rival. Perhaps rival was not the right word, although it had seemed appropriate enough during the long flight to Coolinga. But now...here she was, a guest in Jack Greenway's home, where his personality permeated everything as surely as a sponge soaks up water. His chair. His food. His woman. She followed Mel from the room, convinced that any hopes of a reconciliation were about to be finally and irrevocably dashed to pieces. 

At the foyer, Mel continued out to the verandah, while Janice excused herself to visit the bathroom. She splashed water on her face and patted it dry with a hand towel, studying her fractured reflection in the cracked mirror as she did so. She had come to Coolinga convinced she would find Mel miserable, aching for the lover she left behind, but their reunion had been on the tepid side of passionate at best. Still, she was certain Mel had warmed to the idea of her presence. The woman had baked her sourdough bread. Sourdough bread, for Chrissakes! "If that isn't love, what is?" She was surprised to hear genuine confusion in her voice; she was unaccustomed to the feeling. 

All her adult life she had been able to have her way, whether by skill, wits or sheer force of will. In a field rampant with male counterparts, she was unique and notable for far more than her gender. By age 25, she had made enough money to live comfortably and to have the luxury to pick and choose the archeological commissions which most interested her. With her gifts, came hard?won notoriety; she had the respect of her peers. What she didn't have, however, was what she wanted most. Ain't that always the way? 

She pushed away from the counter and knelt on the bedroom floor to root through her satchel. To her relief, she found the object of her search nestled discreetly in a cocoon of woolen socks. Squat at the bottom, rising in a tall, graceful neck, the dark amber, 94 proof Tennessee Sipping Whiskey was the only Jack she was interested in at the moment. It had originally been intended as a gift to soothe the ruffled feathers of a mechanic to whom she owed money, but she would have to find another way around him. She broke the seal on the bottle, intending to down a generous swig or two before joining Mel on the verandah. She hefted the bottle carefully, almost reverently, tasting the full, sweet flavor of burnt caramel and vanilla at the back of her throat before a single drop of whiskey had touched her lips. 

Tapping, and her name uttered as a hiss. "Janisssss."

Janice opened her eyes, a revelation in itself, since she hadn't been conscious of closing them. Across the room, on the opposite side of a six?paned window, Mel rapped on the glass with her knuckle. She had seen the bottle, but there was no reproach in her voice as she said, "Bring that...and two glasses... and hurry, or you'll miss it!" she beckoned, conveying a sense of urgency before stepping out of view, leaving confusion in her wake.

Miss it. Miss what? Janice stopped in the parlor to collect two heavy glass tumblers from the sideboard and made her way onto the verandah, successfully navigating the explosive screen door without dropping her kit. Using the toe of her boot, she eased the door closed and looked for Mel, who was conspicuously absent. "Mel?" She set the whiskey and glasses down on a sturdy wicker table and sighed heavily, her frustration evident. "Where'd you go?"

Mel poked her head around the corner of the porch. "Over here...come see!"

Janice walked the length of the porch, her curiosity snuffling ahead of her like a keen beagle. Rounding the corner of the house, facing to the south, she saw Mel standing poised, dead center of the front stoop. Her head was tilted slightly back, and her mouth was opened in unabashed wonder. "What is it? If it's a dingo, I've seen plenty of those."

"Try not to sound so jaded, Janice Covington, and come here," Mel hissed reproachfully, fanning one hand to her, gathering the smaller woman under her shoulder. "Now," she whispered, as if more volume were an intrusion. "Stand just here..." She stepped back and guided Janice into her place on the worn gray boards. "Do you see it?"

Janice exhaled wearily, her eyes scanning the horizon, left to right, from soft sage and violet to a vivid spectrum of crimsons and yellows. It was breathtaking, and it wasn't a dingo. Points for Mel. "Yes," she whispered, trying to convey her pleasure. "It's beautiful, Mel." She felt warm fingers at her temples and a gentle upward pressure; unconsciously, she found herself leaning back into the support provided by Mel's lanky frame. She could feel two firm breasts, peaked, at attention, against the sensitive skin of her shoulder blades. She might have reveled in that feeling indefinitely if her breath hadn't been snatched without warning from her chest. Directly above her and to her left, divided by a line of native wattles, the sky was clear with a quarter moon and a blanket of dazzling stars; and to the right, off?set just slightly by the sagging tin roof of the house, the sun was setting, wallowing gloriously in the foothills, bathing the gums and mulga in raw, homespun gold. Day and night sharing the sky at the same moment. It was, Janice conceded, the oddest, most beautiful of dichotomies.

"It happens every sunset." Mel's mouth was just inches from Janice's ear, so close her breath stirred the tiny wisps of hair at her nape. "...a few minutes later every day. I find myself standin' out here, where you're standin' now...waiting. I know that must seem foolish to you, but I suppose I'm a simple woman."

Janice turned to face Mel, careful to maintain the physical and emotional connection that had been created. "You're not simple at all...you're a damned pioneer, Mel." She left those fathomless cerulean pools to turn her own eyes skyward again. "I mean, look at it..." The last vestiges of light were leaving the land, being replaced by a creeping carpet of mauve and ebony. It stole Janice's breath the way few things could. "I've been living in this land for six weeks...sleeping under the stars, and do you know, it never once occurred to me that this place had anything new to show me. How thick is that, I ask you?"

"Pretty thick," Mel echoed with a grin. She dropped her hands to her sides, unintentionally skimming Janice's hips as she did so. "Oh, sorry." I'm not. Janice turned on her heel. "I got whiskey, remember?" At the little wicker table, she opened the bottle and turned to Mel, who had taken a seat on a wooden glider. "How do you take it? On the rocks? With water?"

Mel countered brightly, "Oh, however you like it is fine."

"Two fingers. Neat." She passed Mel a tumbler and seated herself in an old bleached rocker that overlooked the wide expanse of horizon. Shaking out her damp hair, she took her first sip of whiskey...center cut, her father had called it...like the heart of a good watermelon...strong and flavorful and just what she needed. She sighed contentedly and stretched her legs out, crossing them at the ankles. The sun was a molten sliver on the horizon, and the worst of the day's heat was over at last. Trees growing by the verandah were full of sparrows and finches twittering in concert with their counterparts inside the small aviary. Somewhere to her left, just beyond the hangar, a dingo howled. She was primed to notice everything, most especially the woman she loved, sitting across from her, making a face as she swallowed her whiskey in one gulp. Janice raised both eyebrows inquiringly as Mel choked. "Uh, Mel? You might want to take it easy there..." 

Mel screwed her eyes shut, sputtered and nodded rapidly, holding her glass in front of her. "May I have..." cough "...another, please?"

Janice left her glass on the arm of the rocker and retrieved the whiskey bottle. "This is sipping whiskey, Mel...say it with me...sip?ping?whis?key..." She held the bottle over Mel's empty glass. "If you're not accustomed to it, it'll bite you back." Mel lifted her glass until it clinked against the bottle. "Okay, suit yourself." She refilled the glass, unable to shake the impression that Mel seemed to be marshaling her courage, fortifying herself for some earth?shattering admission. "What's on your mind?" she asked, giving voice to her thoughts; she toyed briefly with the possibilities, none of them favorable if your name happened to be Janice Covington. 

"I was...I was mulling over the virtues of a really fine whiskey," Mel replied, her fingers grazing Janice's as they clasped the neck of the bottle. "I don't have a great deal of experience with drinkin', as you know, but I find that I quite have the knack for it." Mel took custody of the bottle. "This has a...a kinda smoky quality to it..."  sip "...oak, I think."

"Probably aged in oak barrels. You sure you don't want me to take that?"

"Did you want another drink?" Mel asked as she held the bottle possessively between the pillows of her breasts.

Lucky bottle. Janice shook her head slowly, placing her hand over the wide mouth of the tumbler. She took two steps back, leaning against a support post. As she watched Mel go repeatedly to the well, she determined that at least one of them should stay sober. 

Mel settled back into the glider, the open bottle of whiskey tucked between the armrest and her hip. She kicked off her shoes, heedless of where they fell. Her face was flushed, warmed by the liquor, and her eyes were luminous in the moonlight. Meeting Janice's expectant gaze, her courage waned temporarily. It wasn't until she'd cautiously tipped back another shot of whiskey, that she found her voice. "If you drink from a bottle marked poison, it's almost certain to disagree with you sooner or later."

"If you're referring to the whiskey..."

"It's from Alice in Wonderland, and I'm tryin' to make a point. Please, don't interrupt." Janice settled back against the post, suitably reproached, while Mel focused on a knothole in the floor boards. "Lewis Carroll as prophet...it's not an idea many people can warm to." She kept her eyes down, unable to bear either the confirmation or denial in the other's face, and she was grateful Janice had the presence of mind to remain silent. "All my life I knew what I wanted, what was expected of me as a woman, and as the daughter of Melvin Pappas. These things were seldom complementary of one another..." Mel's voice trailed off; she groped for the bottle at her side, but her hands were shaking and her aim was slightly off. She felt Janice's fingers close over her own. "One more...for luck."

"I think you've had enough, Mel." Janice set the bottle on the table between them. "Just...take a few deep breaths and spit it out...whatever it is." She took a long pull on her whiskey, reflecting miserably on her inability to cope with rejection, and braced for the worst.

"I've made some mistakes in my life, Janice," said Mel, the words leaping from her lips, a verbal suicide. "I have done some things that I've regretted, and people I cared about paid the price." She looked into the bottom of her glass and was afforded an unobstructed, if distorted, view of her bare feet. "Oh, my...look a' that..." She tilted her head in wonder. "I have big feet," she said, as if the discovery were a revelation. 

Janice rolled her eyes. It's official: she's drunk. It's a damned record. The number one problem with drunks, in her opinion, was the propensity to be distracted by the smallest things. It was both blessing and curse. "You have nice feet, Mel," she said succinctly as she approached the glider. She took the empty tumbler from Mel's hands. "I think you should probably lie down for a while, sleep this off."

When Mel felt Janice's hand upon her elbow, she looked up into a pair of sparkling green eyes and felt compelled to apologize. "I'm sorry you came all this way, Janice." Strong fingers encircled her arm, drawing her into a standing position. "I know it must seem like a tremendous waste of time to you now, and if I'd known you were comin', I'd've stopped you."

Standing there, with Mel's arm wedged securely between her own hip and elbow, Janice felt her knees go to jelly. Here it comes. "Later, Mel...All this can wait till later." She stopped at the front door of a house settled with shadows. With her free hand, she groped for the lights. 

"Did you bring the whiskey?"

"It's fine where it is," Janice replied, frustration bleeding into her voice. "God dammit, what're you people? Bats?!"

"I haven't always liked the choices I've made, Janice," said Mel, flipping a light switch on the opposite side of the door. "Erratic, my daddy would've said." She leaned heavily into the smaller woman. "You steer, I'll walk...Following my, my heart one minute, my head the next..."

"Can't go wrong with either of those. Whoa, watch your head." Janice guided her across the bedroom threshold, relieved to find the light switch on the first attempt. She backed Mel across the floor until her calves met the edge of the bed. "Okay. Sit." 

"I made mistakes...Sit?"

Janice snorted. "Bend your knees...it'll happen by itself."

Mel's face softened. "You're so good to me, Janice," she said sincerely; the ache in her voice broke Janice's heart. "You and Jack...both so good to me."

Jack. There's my wake?up call. "Yeah, well..." As a sparkling retort, it failed miserably. "Get some rest, Mel."

"Did'ja ever do that? Try somethin' just to try it...to get it out of your system, like the cold or the flu...or to satisfy someone else's expectations..."

Better and better. Worse than a fling, an experiment. Janice set her jaw; there were no words to convey her hurt, her disappointment. When she turned to leave, it was all she could do not to bolt from the room. 

"I've hurt people, Janice..." Mel's voice stopped her at the door. "I hurt you."

"Yeah. You did...but I'm tough, Mel," Janice replied, her back to the room. "I'll get over it." 

"I won't. I can't. Janice...please look at me."

Look at her? Yes? No? Janice suspected that whatever steely resolve she still possessed would vanish at the first sight of tears. "That's probably not a good idea, Mel." 

With supreme effort, Mel got to her feet, dizzy at first, then queasy. "Please...You're gonna walk out that door, and I'm never gonna see you again...I just know it...So you turn around and lemme say this one teeny tiny little thing." 

Janice inhaled deeply and squared her shoulders like a boxer bracing for a blow. Mel swam into her field of vision...flushed and bleary?eyed, weaving just slightly as she smoothed her skirt with sweaty palms. Different picture, same effect. "Okay...I'm listening."

Chapter 9

Mel blinked rapidly, astonishment plain on her face. Clearly, despite her heartfelt appeal for indulgence, she hadn't anticipated Janice would yield quickly, if at all. Her legs were watery, anesthetized by a combination of whiskey and anxiety, but she was determined to deliver this next bit of information standing, if for no other reason than it might give Janice pleasure to knock her down. A quick inhale and on the exhale, the words, "I love you, Janice." There was the smallest twitch between Janice's brows, easy to miss unless one knew what to look for; but seeing it was one thing, and translating it was another.

Janice's response was inflectionless and noncommittal. "I see." The two syllable equivalent of a polar bear in a white room. 

Janice's apparent apathy took Mel by surprise and sent her scrambling for elaboration. "I plan on leavin' here when Jack returns next month." She shrugged. "Don't love him... love you." On the strength of that claim, Mel crossed the floor, knees shaking. "I'm askin' to come back, Janice... I'm askin' to be a part of your life again." Her eyes, swimming in hot, unspilt tears, scanned Janice's carefully?set face. "Well...say somethin'..."

Janice breathed in through her mouth; she could taste Mel on her tongue, a frothy concoction of whiskey and guilt and fear. There were few things that sobered a drunk faster than fear. "God knows, Mel, when I arrived here, I'd have forgiven you anything just to have you back in my life...And a few minutes ago, those words and your tears might've been enough to reconcile our differences. But frankly, now...I have to say I don't come that cheap." 

Light?headed with fear and apprehension, Mel stammered, "What can I do? What do you want me to say? I've been as honest as I know how to be."

Janice was tight?lipped. "In vino veritas. Wine or whiskey, you had to knock back a third of a bottle to be honest with me...to confess the truth: I was a mistake, and our relationship was an experiment." Mel opened her mouth to argue, but was cut off abruptly. "Mel, you said as much." She turned her eyes to the sagging ceiling, struggling to recall the exact turn of phrase. "Did you ever try something just to get it out of your system...? Ring a bell?" 

"If you're gonna go around quotin' me, at least get it right. I never referred to you as an experiment or a mistake. The truth is ?" cough Mel fought down a brief wave of nausea, holding up a finger indicating that Janice should wait. "...the truth is..." cough 

"The truth is you left me because you were afraid I would leave you. Somewhere in the back of my mind, that makes sense, in a paranoid, insecure kind of way. It's even kind of flattering. What I don't understand is your situation here and now?this mop-the- floors?laundry?on?the?line?dinner?on?the?stove domestic bent. I don't get the attraction, Mel. Granted, Alice is a great kid, any woman would be proud to have her as a daughter, but ?"

"I can explain."

Janice waved her off. "It's okay, Mel. I understand. You were raised in a conservative, Southern household, by a conservative, Southern grandmother. Your future included white picket fences and babies, and a husband. But before you settled down to all of that, you wanted to sow your wild oats, as they say...experiment with different things. Well, I had a good time. I hope you did; and now that you've got it out of your system, you can settle down to marital bliss with the partner your parents always wanted you to have...someone with facial hair, who dresses left or right." 

Indignation and embarrassment fought a pitched battle on Mel's face. "Now, you jes' hold on!"

"Although, I have to get my own two cents in here and say that you have lousy taste in men. I mean, I don't know Jack Greenway from Adam, but from everything I have heard and seen in the last few hours, I know that he's the last man on earth I would pair you with. What is it, Mel? Does he remind you of your daddy?" she asked facetiously. 

"Are you through? Can I talk now?" Mel asked through clenched teeth, a reaction that was as much anger as it was a way to bite back her rising gorge; too late she had discovered that she was a proficient drinker, but a terrible drunk. "You keep sayin' you understand this, and you understand that. News flash, Janice: you don't understand anythin'." Mel looked seriously down into the youthful face of cynicism; it was one of those times when her height was an advantage. "Now...you sit." She thrust a finger at the bed. When Janice hesitated, she raised a single eyebrow and from somewhere deep in her ancestral line, summoned up 'The Look'. "Your butt on that bed. Now." 

Janice lighted on the corner of the mattress, watching in silence as Mel struggled to maintain her upright position. "Maybe you should be the one sitting."

Mel took a step back and leaned against the wall for support. "You say you talked to my mama. Long conversation?"

"Ten minutes, thereabouts."

The corner of Mel's mouth twitched. "That's plenty time enough. Did you love your mama, Janice? I mean, before she left you and your daddy, did you have a good relationship?"

Janice scratched her ear and shrugged. "We were close, yeah. Is this going someplace?"

"Indulge me. Would it be safe to say that you did your utmost to please her?" Janice nodded and Mel countered, "Out of love and respect." Again, a nod. The tall Southerner melted against the wall, kept upright by sheer force of will. "You had ten minutes, long distance with Miss Julia Pappas. How was it?"

Janice labored for just the right word. "Interesting." 

Mel coughed, and then laughed into the back of her hand. "Don't play the diplomat, Janice; it doesn't suit you."

"You want me to say she was cold and blunt? Okay, I will. One minute into the conversation, I was ready to throttle her."

"Get in line," Mel said, nodding sagely. "Knowin' my mama as I do, I'm gonna guess that she didn't tell you I called her from the airport in Athens the night I left."

"Funny...she didn't mention it."

"We had quite a long talk...or maybe I should say: she lectured and I listened, a first for me. All those years growin' up, I managed to tune out a lot of what she was sayin' and find my own way, my own paths, always to her dismay. I could never please her, and she never tired...tires... of remindin' me of my failures. The way she saw it, leavin' you was the smartest thing I'd ever done, which only reinforced my opinion of her. I had called for understandin' and sympathy and gotten a slap in the face. She said, 'Come home, Melinda. I forgive you.'...like lovin' you was some kinda crime. She even offered to wire me plane fare, but I didn't want anythin' from her." She flushed and weaved. Janice was at her side in an instant. "I have to sit for a spell..." Without speaking, Janice helped her back to the bed, though she herself remained standing. "Look at you," Mel said, her voice softly marveling. "Even now, as angry as you are with me, you have such good instincts, Janice; that was one of the things that drew me to you."

Janice softened just slightly, though it would take more than flattery to win her back. "And Jack..." she prompted with genuine curiosity. "What drew you to him?" 

Mel closed her eyes briefly, as if conjuring forth the recollection. "His innate decency, I think. He spoke of his family, his daughter, with such affection."

Sitting on the bed, with some distance between them, Janice remarked on the only thing about Jack Greenway she liked, apart from his absence. "Like I said, Alice is a good kid. You had a ready?made family here."

Mel looked at her hands, trembling in her lap. "Certainly that was an attractive prospect. It wasn't until later in our relationship that I discovered I was merely the last in a long line of sweethearts. When he left here seven weeks ago, he gave me the house keys, two hundred dollars cash, and his word that he would be back. He gave me all that, but..." she held up her left hand and wiggled her fingers. "No ring." She shrugged. "You don't give a ring to your house sitter."

"It never...well, it never went beyond that?"

Mel smiled, amused by Janice's delicate approach. "If you're askin' if we ever consummated the relationship, the answer is no. Oh, there were a couple of false starts, but I think he knew my heart wasn't in it. My first night here he took a blanket and pillow out to the sofa and never pressed the matter again."

Janice heaved a sigh of relief. At last, the 'experiment' had been identified and the only thing that shocked her more than the identity was Jack's surprising depth of character. "If you didn't love him, why did you stay, Mel?"

"Because I had nowhere else to go," Mel replied simply. "The truth is I got off that steamer flat broke, needin' isolation, time to think. This house provides all that. Jack. Well, I suppose you could say I fell in serious like with the man. He's kind and generous. He knows when to talk, and when to listen, and he doesn't hoard his emotions like a lot of folks do. So, when you ask if he reminds me of my daddy, I'll have to say ?no, he most certainly does not."

Janice shuffled uncomfortably. "Touche'." She had closely watched Mel's face throughout her confession, gauging sincerity or deception based on her observations. Her instincts told her that what she was hearing was the truth, stripped bare of all pretense, absent of mitigating circumstances. She wanted to return that honesty with words, a touch, a kiss...a caress...yet something inside screamed for caution. She didn't trust her hands, so she sat on them. "I want to believe you, Mel."

Mel turned to face her. "I don't know what else I can say, Janice, except that you are and never have been anythin' but what I absolutely wanted out of life." She extended a hand and cupped the heart?shaped face lovingly in her palm. "Can you accept that I made an awful, horrible mistake the day I left you? Do you know how much that has hurt me every day since?" Her hand, unsupported by Janice's own, began to tremble with the fear that she had misread the situation and moved too soon. "Tell me you don't want me...Tell me there's not this huge achin' chasm where your heart used to be...Tell me you don't love me, and you can walk out of here and never hear from me again."

Janice swallowed hard; Mel's hand against her skin was almost painful. Beneath her thighs, her own hands scrunched the bedspread into fistfuls. "I don't think I can do that." 

Mel dropped her hand slowly to her side, and swallowed deeply, audibly. "Do you hate me very much?" She dreaded the answer.

A smile turned up the corner of Janice's mouth. "Some day, I gotta compile a book of useless questions."

Mel almost wept with relief. Her plea, "Kiss me, Janice," carried all the weight of a dying man's cry for water, a request that, in good conscience, could not be denied. She leaned forward, meeting Janice halfway, and when warm lips connected, she felt a shudder run down her spine - hot and icy at the same time. "More..." she urged, her lips sliding against Janice's, an unquenchable thirst begging to be slaked. She plunged one hand into sweet?smelling honey hair, while the other slid beneath the blouse to cup a firm breast, its nipple made hard and erect by the single brush of a calloused thumb.

Janice was not prepared for the mindless lassitude that gripped her at the first touch of those talented hands. Heat coursed through her body like a fever. Had she not been able to taste the whiskey on Mel's lips, present in every kiss rained upon her face, she might have been content to endure such an assault indefinitely. She knew she should resist; it was the honorable thing to do, even if she would hate herself in the morning. "Mel...Mel, honey...we have to stop..." she murmured without conviction. She groaned, tilting her head back as feather?soft kisses grazed her from chin to cleavage, and fingers fumbled at the buttons of her blouse. "I mean it, Mel..." she protested, even as her nipples sprang to life, minds of their own. Traitors. Summoning up her last reserves of self?control, she wrested herself from Mel's embrace and stood. "I think we should stop..." She observed her lover laboring for breath, and she could see her reflection clearly in those wide, cerulean pools; it flattered her to be seen as an object of lust. "I gotta go splash some water on my face or...somethin'..."

Mel caught the retreating figure by the arm. "Janice...did I do somethin' wrong?"

"Aw, no, sweetheart, it's just...well..." Janice tugged at the front of the blouse, pinching the icon of St. Ignatius between her thumb and forefinger. "There's just somethin'...I don't know... indecent about being groped in this blouse."

"If it bothers you that much...take it off."

Janice chuckled. "Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"So would you," replied Mel pointedly. "Make love to me, Janice." She held Janice's gaze as her long fingers drifted down to the buttons of her own blouse.

Janice raised her eyes heavenward. "This is a test...it's gotta be."  Passion's gauntlet. She shifted her gaze back to Mel, who was murmuring soft obscenities as she struggled with the top button of her blouse. "Not tonight, honey. You have a headache."

Mel got to her feet. "I am not drunk," she said adamantly.

"Oh, yeah?" She held up three fingers. "How many fingers?"

"Ohhh," Mel grinned slyly and groped Janice. "I like this game!"

Janice squealed and captured Mel's roaming hands in her own. "Jeeze Louise, Mel!"

Mel managed a genuinely wounded expression as she stood there, both hands pinned against her chest by Janice's strong grip. "I'm comin' on too strong, aren't I?"

"Oh, God...don't ask me that. I'm almost certain I'll lie." She released her grip and gathered Mel to her in an embrace that seemed to temporarily satisfy their mutual need for intimacy without jeopardizing either woman's integrity. They had been moving in a slow, almost indefinable circle for a full minute before Janice was conscious of the movement. With the covert introduction of a melody, it graduated from random motion to sensuous dance. The words of the song wound their way from Mel's lips to her ear in a sweet, mournful sigh, taking on the aspect of a heartfelt confession. She would never again listen to the lyrics in the same way.

How carelessly You gave me your heart And carelessly I broke it, sweetheart I took each tender kiss you gave to me Every kiss made you a slave to me Then carelessly I told you good?bye But now at night I wake up and cry I wish I knew a way to find the love I threw away so carelessly.

"That was nice, Mel," Janice murmured. "Reminds me of that night in Athens...remember? Our first night together?" She felt Mel nod against her shoulder. "Cole Porter on the radio, $8 champagne on ice...you and me in the bed...on the floor... against the wall. It was perfect."

Mel disengaged and stepped back, putting enough space between them so that she might look Janice seriously in the face. "I promise, Janice, never to be intimidated by perfection ever again."

Janice winked and once again pulled Mel into an embrace. "I'm gonna hold you to that," she replied. She spun Mel out to arm's length and held her briefly by the fingertips. "Dip?" With a snap of her wrist, she pulled her partner into her and dropped her in a dip that even Astaire would have envied. Grinning, she queried, "Am I good...or what?"

"Janice...would it spoil this moment for you if I threw up?"

[faveficarchive]

Ascension, Part 3 (Conclusion)

by Penumbra

"Oh Hades," Gabrielle cursed and rubbed the fresh ink stain on her thumb, managing only to spread it around. "Jacinthe, could you fetch me a cloth?"

"Yes, my mistress," the slight girl murmured and vanished among the gaggle of brightly coloured courtiers, only to return a moment later with the requested item.

"Thank you," Gabrielle smiled and wiped her hands. When Jacinthe responded with a low bow, the bard grabbed her shoulder and pushed her gently upright. "There are limits to obsequiousness, Jacinthe," she admonished gently.

"Yes, my mistress," the girl replied again and offered a slightly awed smile, along with another bow.

It's hopeless, Gabrielle sighed in her mind, and turned toward her writing desk again, picking up the quill she had abandoned when it had spat ink all over her hands. I should have the royal quillmaker spend the afternoon in the public stocks for producing such sub-standard implements, she thought idly, until a shiver ran through her. I actually have the power to do that, now, and nobody would second-guess my decision. Gracious gods.

As she shifted uncomfortably, her stiff clothing adjusted to her change of position, the heavy, gold-embroidered tunic rustling as she bent her arm. As she moved, the courtiers turned their heads her way, idle question in their eyes, but soon turned back towards their respective companions. Gabrielle darted a covert look around before focusing again on the landscape that opened before her.

The spring was slowly giving way to summer. The sun was hot and bright, the flowers on the knoll she was sitting on already in full blossom, spreading their sweet fragrance over the grassy slopes below her - slopes that were now teeming with troops.

The warm spring had given birth to other things besides the rich fauna covering the landscape around Korinthos. While the harsh winter had acted as a deterrent to the barbarians flowing over the northern border, as the weather warmed the conflicts had again increased. The attackers were now better armed than before, their professional tactics speaking strongly of outside military influence, and even the Persians had taken interest in the conflict, amassing troops to their own western border. And so, on that day, two moons after the vernal equinox and her ascension to the throne, Gabrielle was overseeing the final exercises before the troops were to march to Larnoa, where they would board ships bound for Thrace.

The tunic was heavy upon her and she could feel beads of perspiration slip down between her shoulderblades, but she bore this onus of her duty gladly. Anything to help, Gabrielle thought wryly and bit the end of her quill. Her position was still anything but secure, and she could sense the venom in the whispered voices around her, could feel the gazes of those envious of her position burning holes into her back.

"Is everything to your liking, mistress?"

Jacinthe's worried words brought Gabrielle out of her trance and she straightened, dropping the quill on the empty parchment with a sigh. The Muses seemed disinclined to cooperate with her this afternoon. "Yes... but it's been a long day."

"It has been that," the girl agreed and filled Gabrielle's goblet.

"And," the bard continued, leaning towards Jacinthe and lowering her voice, "these people make my skin crawl," she said, and pointed discreetly over her shoulder at the chatting groups of noblemen and ladies-in-waiting, the precious metals and stones of their outfits competing in brightness with the sun itself, their talk superficial and otiose.

Jacinthe nodded, not quite comprehending what could be so scary about the well-dressed men and women milling about. After all, they seemed complacent enough, sipping their wine slowly and trying very hard not to appear bored as they pretended to be interested in the mock battle winding down before them.

The field had been trampled down into dark reddish brown sludge, the horses struggling to stay upright with their heavy cargoes as their hooves sank into it. Squinting against the glare of the setting sun, Gabrielle tried to make a pattern out of the sheer visual and aural chaos of it all - lieutenants shrieking instructions over the deafening clang of metal on metal, horses veering past one another in a wild dance, the underlying low sounds of the courtiers conversing behind her.

"Madness, I tell you," she muttered, picking up the quill and twirling it in her fingers as she considered the many layers of meaning to the words. "All of it..."

As she watched, the largest concentration of troops broke up, the soldiers sheathing their weapons and sending a quick prayer to the gods for letting them live through the dangers of the exercise. But even in their bone-tired state, the troops parted quickly as their commander rode towards the high ridge, still sitting upright and proud after hours of grueling training. Gabrielle's lips curled up in a wistful smile.

"...but isn't she just amazing?" Gabrielle murmured as she watched her lover reach the crest of the ridge and turn around, with her long mane of midnight black hair flowing behind her. As always, Xena had fought with her head bare of a helmet -- so brazen and sure was she of her superiority, and justly so.

"Pardon?" Jacinthe said, bending closer.

"Oh, I was just talking about her," Gabrielle said, sitting back. "Xena," she clarified, gesturing towards her with the quill. "She looks so...happy."

"If you say so," the girl murmured, casting a curious eye towards the tall silhouette of the Conqueror. There was a faint touch of a smile on Xena's lips, a hint of joy underneath all the cold cruelty evident in the firm set of her mouth.

Though she could not hear the words with which Xena addressed her troops, Gabrielle was more than able to hear the voice in her head, and imagine the words it delivered: they were smooth, firm, simple; they spoke of what was to come, honestly and with great belief in her soldiers' abilities.

The Conqueror's speech was short, and soon the troops dispersed, the men conversing among themselves in small groups as they headed towards the stables. Under the grimy layer of dust, sweat and mud that stained all of the men's faces, Gabrielle saw nothing but confidence. What Xena wove with her words was sheer magic, Gabrielle thought, and uttered a self-derisive snort. And she calls me the bard. She set the quill down once more and leaned her elbows on the desk, and closed her tired eyes.

"Exhausted?"

The quietly murmured word drew her out of her inner musings and she opened her eyes to the sight of Xena, in all her dark glory and with a devious smile on her lips, standing before the desk.

"Yes," Gabrielle smiled, letting her eyes sweep over the muddy form of her beloved. "And all I did was sit here and watch you."

"Well," Xena said, resting her palms on the desk and bending closer so that she could whisper into Gabrielle's ear, "spending a day with the ladies-in-waiting is enough to drive the strongest of us to the brink of exhaustion."

At that, Gabrielle let out a dry snort of laughter. "My cheeks are sore from all the smiling," she whispered back.

Xena straightened, her armour jingling softly. Brushing an errant strand of her hair out of her mouth where the wind had driven it, she smiled to Gabrielle and extended her hand. There was a twinkle of mischief in her eyes.

"Ride with me, your majesty?"

Gabrielle bit her lower lip and shot a quick look towards the people looming near her, whose undivided attention was now upon them, their every ear straining to hear the conversation. May Hades greet them all soon, she thought, and turned towards her love.

"It would be my pleasure," she said, not missing the double entendre, and placed her hand in Xena's.

The Conqueror's smile shone brighter than the setting sun. "I know."

The infantryman had lain on the battlefield for candlemarks, the essence of his life slowly seeping into the hard ground, his entire world one of pain as he lay there in limbo, unable to die but too gravely wounded to live through the night. And so, when his last breath escaped through the wound in his chest, he gave the Conqueror an unmistakable look of gratitude.

"Next?" she murmured, yanking the pike out of the now-dead soldier.

"Over there," Gillas said, pointing to his right. Out of the corner of her eye, Xena saw the man's throat undulate wildly as he fought to keep his composure and she smiled, knowing that it was necessary for him to see this task through if he was ever to make his heart hard enough to survive the wars fought off the battlefield. Gillas was one of her newer lieutenants, and a soldier of great promise, but only the Fates knew how much of that promise would be realised.

The next casualty died as silently as most of the others, his strength already exhausted. His blood splattered to the ground in thick, dark red pools as Xena pulled the pike out, his body giving one last shudder before stilling for good. She heard Gillas murmur a small prayer and she shook her head. She realised that the distinction between killing one's enemies during battle and dispatching them when they lay on the ground afterwards - the fine line between warfare and murder -- could be disturbingly fluid. But if Gillas was to ascend beyond the stature of lieutenant, he would quickly have to learn to squelch such troublesome thoughts and learn that the only safe enemy was a dead one -- regardless of how the said enemy was dispatched.

"Next?" she asked. And so they continued, pacing the battlefield, sending the men laying next to the corpses of their comrades on to whatever gods they worshiped. It was the first day of battle, and while she usually took prisoners, tonight she couldn't be bothered. They still had a day's journey before they would meet the main contingent of the northern invaders, and she didn't want to be burdened with the extra effort of transporting captives.

The sounds of the battlefield quieted as dusk settled upon them. Those who had eluded her pike soon exhausted either the air in their lungs or the blood flowing in their veins, and the Conqueror's army retreated to the base camp. She was one of the last ones to leave the field, Gillas moving quietly by her side and holding up a torch to light their way through the maze of bodies and trampled vegetation.

"Cold night," Gillas offered, obviously made uneasy by the stretch of silence. By way of a reply, Xena nodded, changing her grip on the pike resting against her shoulder. As she looked across the vast battlefield, she could see the last of her men, the ones who had helped with her gruesome but necessary task, go through the last piles of bodies to see if anyone was left alive. Their breath formed small white clouds, which disappeared quickly into the darkening night.

"Make sure the perimeter guards light no fires tonight." Her voice was a low, unobtrusive murmur.

"Yes, my lord," Gillas replied, and bowed as they parted ways at the entrance of her tent. While he headed towards his tent at a brisk pace, rubbing his bare arms to keep them warm, she turned towards one of the two guards and handed the blood-crusted pike to him.

"My lord," the guard greeted her.

"Evening, Eustis," she murmured, wrapping the cloak around herself. "Where is Linus?"

"The captain should be back from his dinner any moment, my lord," Eustis said, his voice quavering slightly as he shifted the pike from one hand to the other. He did not know how to have polite idle chat with the Conqueror and so he chose his words carefully. "Do you wish me to let him know you are looking for him?"

Turning her head towards the camp, Xena narrowed her eyes, tired as they were from the long day and the smoke of burning houses. "No, it can wait."

She fell quiet after that, standing there in silence, surveying the sea of tents before her. A feeling of deja vu enveloped her. How often had she stood before her tent, looking out over the temporary city sprawling around her and wondering how many of the men there would see the next nightfall? The pain would not be hers, nor theirs; no, the price would be paid by their mothers who would outlive their sons, and the wives who would no longer have a father for their children.

"Such is war," she muttered quietly, pushing a strand of wind-swept raven hair behind her ear.

"Pardon, my lord?" asked the guard, but Xena ignored him, shifting her eyes from the anthill of her camp to the distant horizon, the sky now just vast darkness above her. The world around her was black as well; no longer could she see the blood covering her hands and armour, nor smell the sweet scent of death above the smell of food and torch smoke. Though her flesh was sticky against the leather she wore and the dark passion of battle still rushed through her veins, if she just closed her eyes she could well imagine that her day hadn't been one of death.

"But that would be futile," she murmured and turned abruptly, startling Eustis so that he almost dropped the pike. "Arrange a hot bath for me," she said and the guard nodded, rushing away to find the Conqueror's servants. As her eyes flickered to her other guard, the man kept his eyes forward and his posture painfully erect. Humming in satisfaction, Xena entered her tent.

Without Gabrielle, it was cold and empty inside. Removing her cloak and draping it carefully over a chair, the Conqueror paced around the table, sitting down heavily in her chair. Empty, she repeated to herself and sat back, feeling her gore-encrusted back stick to the chair in a most unpleasant way. Gods, I miss her.

Pouring herself a goblet of wine, she sat back again and sipped at the rich, dark liquid, the burning of alcohol in her empty stomach a welcome diversion from the wounds on her body which were beginning to demand attention. Sloshing the wine in the cup, Xena licked her lips and smiled crookedly. It certainly does not pay to be the responsible one...I'm getting to be too old for this game, she thought idly, too tired to count all the small aches and pains. Fingering the golden goblet, she cast an appreciative eye over the intricate engravings of battle scenes on its sides. Vainglorious yet utilitarian...the very picture of me, she thought, a bit bitterly perhaps. For what else am I but conceited in my quest for absolute power?

That was a question she asked of herself often, and always in vain -- it was clear to her that she did not share Gabrielle's instinctive understanding of why she waged these endless wars. Somehow, Gabrielle understood her better than she did herself -- understood what drove her to such heights of selfishness that she was willing to let others be slaughtered in her name, for her glory.

"Here's to you, Gabrielle," she said quietly, and saluted the empty air with the cup.

"Pretty night."

Shifting in her awkward pose on the windowsill, Gabrielle turned. "Yes it is," she smiled. "Come on in, Mentu."

The tall, gaunt man stepped through the doorway, his feet silent on the plush carpet as he crossed the room and came to stand next to the still-seated Gabrielle. Bracing an arm against the wall, he leaned forward to peek over her shoulder. "The stars are bright."

Resting her head against the cool, coarse stone of the wall, Gabrielle wrapped an arm around her knee. "Yes," she said quietly, tracing the unseen patters of constellations with her eyes. "I wonder if she's looking at the same sky as I am now."

Turning to lean his shoulder against the wall, Mentuhetep smiled at her quiet words. "I'm sure she is alive and well."

"Oh, I don't worry about that," Gabrielle said and laughed, despite her sombre mood. "I was just wondering...if the battle is over yet."

"Ah," said Mentu, comprehending. It was the seventh night after the Conqueror's departure, and also the fall of the day when her troops would have met the first of the invaders. Messengers would not arrive for several days. "Do you miss her?"

"That is a bold question, Mentuhetep."

"Yes, it is," he said, smiling to match Gabrielle's expression.

"And I wouldn't have pegged you as one to make so obtuse an inquiry," Gabrielle added, great warmth in her voice as she turned away from the stars to face the third member of the triumvirate.

"You do know I miss her as much as you do..." he said.

"And you worry even more," Gabrielle quipped in between.

"...and worry more, yes," he smiled. "But of the three of us, she is the strongest."

The vernal equinox had seen more than Gabrielle's ascension to power; it had seen the birth of a triumvirate, with the Conqueror raising her and Mentuhetep up as equals beside her throne. That had been Mentu's idea, his humbleness not preventing him from suggesting such an unorthodox arrangement. The advantage it offered was a ruling body with six eyes and three lives -- far more than its enemies had.

"I so detest this," Gabrielle said quietly, closing her tired eyes. She was weary to the bone, the long day behind her full of dignitaries, courtiers and common men vying for her attention. Like flowers, they sought out the brightest light in their vicinity, and right now, in the Conqueror's absence, that light was Gabrielle.

"Life at court?"

"No," she said, opening her eyes and shaking her head emphatically. "Not being there with her...not knowing how she fared today." She paused, struggling for words. "Not having her near me," she finally said frankly, her words quiet and frangible.

"So it is her physical presence that you miss above all else?" Mentu asked and perched on the corner of a nearby desk. "Interesting."

Gabrielle's eyes shifted from the far wall to him, a twinkle of ironical laughter in them. "No, it's pathetic. But after what happened last time...I'm understandably reluctant to part ways with her." Leaning back against the wall, Gabrielle sighed. "The blood of the people she killed is as much on my hands as it is hers, and I fear what she will do. She gets so angry and careless, so easily...killing without reason other than the thrill she gets from it. But in that state she can become blind to the dangers around her."

"But Gabrielle, you cannot blame yourself for what she has done, or protect her from the dangers she chooses to walk into," Mentu protested, gesturing towards the window with a long arm. "Her will is her own."

"But her heart is not hers, Mentuhetep," Gabrielle said, leaning forward and locking eyes with the man. "There is a bond, here," she said, brushing the chest of her ornate tunic with her hand, "whose depth even I don't understand...but it is the only thing that prevents her from being swallowed by the darkness. She was there once, last winter, and she almost died. I will not make her go through that again, if I can help it."

Mentuhetep shifted in his place, in silence. Evident in the clear sheen of Gabrielle's eyes, its intensity overwhelming, was a wisdom a woman of her age should not possess - for such wisdom was brought about by pain and suffering, not by a happy life. Night and day, they are, he thought. Both with such charisma, and neither with any clue about the extent of its power...together, they are indomitable.

"What she does is as much an extension of me as it is of her...and that's why I am willing to walk through Tartarus for her," she finished, gesturing vaguely towards the chamber door and the castle behind it. Mentuhetep smiled quietly at the evident frustration in her words, but saw the reason in them: for Xena, Gabrielle was ready to endure a life in court, as dangerous and tedious as it was.

"She is fortunate to have you as hers, Gabrielle," he said, leaning in to lay a light hand on Gabrielle's shoulder. "You have the heart to guide her to use her power wisely."

"Yes...and you know what?" Gabrielle asked, to which Mentu lifted a questioning eyebrow. "I believe in what she is doing."

"In what sense?" Mentuhetep asked, his brows knitting.

"I believe she is what's best for the nation. She is ruthless, yes, but..." she paused, her eyes narrowing as she sought among the stars for the correct words. "I mean, who am I to stand in the way of history? What she has done has made the whole of Hellas fight under one flag for the first time in the written history of our nation. She has united our people...and she has been the one to pay the highest price for that accomplishment." She turned her head, her eyes reflecting eternal sadness. "She has given her soul for it."

Frustrated by how little of what she felt could be conveyed with words, Gabrielle leaned back again, turning her head towards the window next to her. She could feel Mentu's silent presence next to her but it was not an oppressive feeling, merely...comforting. The wide windowsill gave her generous room to sit but it was still hard, the sharp edges of the stone digging into her behind. Reaching out with one hand, she touched the glass. The pane was slick and cool, distorting the stars slightly.

"The sky is like velvet tonight," she said, brushing her hand across the glass, trying vainly to feel the imagined softness of the firmament above her, picturing her lover standing in the cool night air, breathing in the smoke of torches and the scent of the blossoming trees.

Though it was well past the witching hour, she was not sleepy. Resting her forehead against the window, she gazed outside and down into the city surrounding the castle. Guttering torches, their light feeble in the deep darkness, signaled city guardians on the move, traversing the empty streets as Korinthians slept. To Gabrielle, the streets were but a great maze, stretching far and wide before meeting the city walls, now nothing but shadows in the distance. "All these people...putting their faith in me," she murmured, squinting. "I feel so inadequate, unable to protect them."

"Protect them from what, Gabrielle?" Mentu asked, softly.

"The world," she replied, rubbing her upper arm. "We live between powerful enemies...I fear for the safety of my people, who trust me to give protection I'm not able to provide."

"That is Xena's job, Gabrielle. Have faith in her, as I do" Mentuhetep said quietly as he stood up. Placing a light kiss on Gabrielle's temple, he took one last look at the dark sky. "Good night."

"Good night, Mentuhetep," she said, turning her head and giving the man a small smile before he departed, quietly, leaving the bed chamber for Gabrielle again. She rose, carefully stretching limbs that had grown stiff from her position in the windowsill.

Working a kink out of her neck, she paced quietly across the plush rug to the candelabrum next to their bed, only one of the candles still lit. Running her palm lightly along the thick shaft, the white wax surface feeling slick and warm on her skin, she smiled. "Good night, my love," she whispered to the small flame before pinching the wick and extinguishing the last light in the chamber before climbing into the bed. Morpheus took her quickly away and she dreamed of a camp far to the north, quiet in its midnight rest, and her beloved sleeping under the same stars.

Epilogue -- three generations later

The door of the inn opened with great force, letting in a billowing cloud of soft snow and a gust of cool wind, before a figure wrapped in heavy layers of wool stepped in and closed the door behind him. The inn's occupants, clustered around the hearth and cradling mugs of hot mead, cast hostile eyes upon the newcomer as they shivered from the sudden blast of cold. But when he unwrapped the woollen cloaks from his tall figure, recognition made many a face smile.

"Nostromo!"

"Afternoon, Eugeios," the newcomer greeted the innkeeper, clapping his hands together to restore circulation. "Enchanting, what the sky is sending down to us."

"Two days of snow," Eugeios the innkeeper said, lifting his scrawny arms in a gesture of surrender. "Did we not sacrifice enough at winter solstice? Why are the gods testing us thus? This is not good for business!" he finished, his voice thundering through the small common room of his inn.

"Well, that's why I'm here, eh?" Nostromo countered, winking, an ever-present grin on his lips as he rapped his scroll case. If you asked anyone in Komotino, nobody could recall not seeing the storyteller smile in his inimitable way, as if he was in on the universe's little secrets and was finding them very amusing indeed. A wiry man with ageless features and a penchant for razor-sharp irony when it came to tales of the high and mighty (a talent that had nearly cost him his life on more than one occasion), the storyteller was a much-loved man in the village.

"The stage is all yours, my friend," Eugeios said, gesturing grandly towards an empty table next to the hearth.

"I, Nostromo, teller of tales," he began as soon as he had jumped onto the table. His voice was low and clear, carrying easily over the buzz of the conversation in the inn. At the words, most heads turned his way, those interested shushing the rest to silence. "I sing the song of light and of darkness...and of how they came to be torn apart, only to be united again."

A quiet hush travelled through the crowd as it recognised the oft-told tale.

I sing the song of Xena the Conqueror Who with a heart of darkness loved light itself.

Nostromo paused there and looked up from the scroll that he kept in his hand, more as a prop than anything else, for the knew the story by heart. His audience was gazing at him, their eyes unblinking and expectant.

I sing the song of Gabrielle the Bard Who with a heart of purest gold loved darkness itself.The tale of the two is the tale of one Two halves of a whole, brought together Two lives, entwined as one And when apart, on that sad day, even Gaia herself cried.Too few lives had Hellas to offer For the Conqueror's thirst to be quenched then.Too feeble were the bard's powers For her to tear out her own empty heart.

Taking a sip from his cup of mead, the storyteller snuck a peek at the crowd. These people, the hard men of the north that scrounged out their living from unwilling, cold earth, were sitting quietly, their attention riveted on him. Most remembered the tale from their childhood, old as it was, and while only the very eldest among them had seen the Conqueror except on the rare coin that came their way, the story -- of the legendary Xena, the most notorious and most respected ruler in the history of Hellas, who in the course of a reign that lasted longer than the life of an average man guided the nation to prosperity within and glory without, and of the bard Gabrielle who captured her heart -- was much-loved and one they would never tire of hearing.

Fickle was fate, that glorious twister Who works upon the puny lives of mortal men She lifted but a finger, or two And again was two but one.

At the last word, Nostromo snapped his fingers, smiling a crooked smile that spoke of personal experience on the subject of the fickleness of fate.

And so...I sing the song of Xena the Great Who with blood united HellasI sing the song of Gabrielle the Conqueror Not of men but of hearts.

He finished with a flourish, letting the scroll re-wrap itself with a snap before bowing. The inn's patrons rewarded his troubles with a cacophonic clatter of mugs against tables and a few copper coins thrown in the general direction of his reward collection cup.

"Thank you," he said, still smiling, flipping through his scroll collection. "What will the next story be about?"

"Troy!" came a shouted request from the audience.

"Ah, the lovely Helen and what men will do for love, eh?" Nostromo countered, selecting the correct scroll. "Have you no sympathy for poor Menelaus?" he asked with a twinkle if mischief in his eyes.

"None whatsoever," one brave and somewhat inebriated patron replied, his brazen tone eliciting a round of laughter.

"Trojan wars it is, then," Nostromo said, shrugging. "Because what is a bard's job if not to recite history?" Untying the scroll and opening it, he cleared his throat and began.

I sing the song of Paris Heir to the throne of Troy...

And so the night went on in the inn, a spot of warmth in the midst of a field of snow. Tale after tale was told until Nostromo's voice grew hoarse and pained -- each story relating moments of glory, great battles won and lost, the past glory of Hellas. And in each story were two hearts finding one another, as it should be -- for if anything, it is love for which the greatest hardships are endured, and for which the greatest battles are fought and won.

-- T h e   E n d --

[faveficarchive]

Ascension (Part 2)

by Penumbra

"Why Korinthos?"

The Conqueror's hands paused over the piece of wood she was carving, only to resume a moment later. There was a curious smile on her dark red lips, its quality fluid in the nervous light of the fire.

"There is no-one on the council to take my place," she replied, not looking up. Across the fire, Gabrielle shifted in her seat and wrapped the dark fur around herself more tightly.

"How so?" the bard persisted.

"Hm. Good question," Xena replied and finally paused in her self-imposed task, shoving the dagger back into her boot. "I believe it is a combination of equal talent and equal ambitions."

"Ah. Too many people, too few thrones?"

"Exactly," Xena said and smiled -- a real, genuine smile that lit up even her eyes.

"Are they not afraid of you?" Gabrielle asked, fascinated by this rare insight into the ruthless world of absolutism, and the myriad intrigues and dangers of a despot's life.

"That is of no consequence," the Conqueror replied, turning her carving in her hands. "Even an idle rumour of my death is enough to start the play for power. And I nearly did die, on that field in Macedonia." She fell silent after that, drawing out the dagger again and continuing with her carving.

That is as much as I want to know of it, Gabrielle thought and felt a small shiver go through her. Scooting closer to the fire, she extended her arms towards the crackling flames, feeling the warmth permeate her numb fingers.

They had stopped at nightfall, when Pyrgomache's breathing had been a constant wheeze and Gabrielle felt that she would slide off the saddle from sheer exhaustion. The mare had been treated with a thorough brushing, and upon seeing the blueish tinge of Gabrielle's lips and hands, Xena had built a small fire -- a calculated risk, though they were too far into the woods for the flames to be visible from afar.

It was a moment of almost bizarre mundanity amidst a life of the most unusual circumstances. Gabrielle found it comforting, to know that she could enjoy such a moment of silence, simply staring into the fire, with her love on the other side of the flames, and be content. What was even more amazing to her was that Xena, the Conqueror, was sitting with her quietly, not going anywhere. It was a precious moment of quiet companionship after so much pain and loneliness.

"What are you carving?"

Xena looked up, a hint of the previous smile still on her lips. "Come and see."

With a quiet sigh, Gabrielle rose and paced stiffly around the fire to sit next to Xena, peering intently at the hand hiding the piece of wood.

"What is it?"

Without a word, the Conqueror took hold of Gabrielle's hand and turned it palm up. Upon her open palm she placed her carving. It was a small, fluid shape in the image of a panther frozen in a ferocious leap, its tiny jaws open in a silent roar.

"It's beautiful," Gabrielle breathed, turning the miniature animal in her hand. It reminded her of something... "Where is Androdameios?"

"He died in Macedonia," Xena stated simply, turning her gaze back to the fire, redness rimming her hard eyes. The jittering, shifting light threw sharp shadows on her face. "That's him you're wearing now."

Gabrielle felt sick -- not because she was wearing Androdameios' fur but because she knew how much he had meant to Xena. The panther had been the embodiment of all that was primal in the Conqueror, and woman and animal had connected in a way Gabrielle could not understand but had felt strongly.

"I'm so sorry."

Xena shrugged. "War gives and takes away in equal measure."

The bard brushed her hand over the coarse fur, remembering how lustrous it had been on the panther, and how little of the inner, primal power of the animal it had concealed. And now...she shivered.

"Are you cold?"

"A bit," Gabrielle replied, quite untruthfully.

"Come here then," Xena murmured and pulled her close, under her own cloak. Hesitantly, the bard laid her head on Xena's shoulder, but when the taller woman did nothing to dissuade her closeness, she relaxed into the embrace, feeling the last of the coldness in her heart thaw.

"Better?" Xena asked, resting her cheek on the golden tresses.

"Much better," Gabrielle said and lifted her head, bringing her lips dangerously close to Xena's.

It was the natural course of events for Xena to lower her head so that their lips met, lightly at first. A quicksilver feeling of effervescence travelled through Gabrielle and she shivered again, for reasons quite different, as the contact intensified. The bard's senses were filled with the feeling and the divine scent of her love, and the softness of her lips. Xena's hands entangled in her hair and brought her even closer, deeper into the kiss that made her toes curl, and a sweet ache in her was fanned into life. When they finally parted, Gabrielle felt breathless and altogether too hot.

"That was...quite as I remembered," she said, inhaling unsteadily, and rested her forehead on Xena's jaw.

"I don't want to push you into anything," her lover replied quietly.

The words made Gabrielle lift her head, a smile in her eyes. "I know," she said and kissed an angular cheekbone, the skin ethereally smooth under her touch. Laying her hands gently on Xena's shoulders, she pushed the dark woman onto the ground.

For a moment, she just sat there, looking down at the woman she loved -- had not stopped loving -- despite all that she had done and what had been done unto her. There was something greater than mere affection that bound them together -- be it fate or whatever one chose to call it.

Xena's hands were folded on her stomach and Gabrielle set hers over them. So small and pale in comparison were they, light alabaster on gold. Looking up from their linked hands, past the softly gleaming breastplate and the folds of Xena's dark cape, she found the familiar eyes fastened on her, their blue gone dark indigo in the warm light of the fire.

"Gods...what did I do to deserve such beauty in my presence?" the bard whispered, brushing Xena's cheek with her knuckles. All the words she had been missing came to life in her mind, the beauty of poetry that she had not had cause to exercise during her long months of solitude.

The Conqueror lifted a wry eyebrow at the sudden extolment, for she didn't much care for her looks save for the advantage in intimidation they gave her over others of lesser stature. "Silly," she admonished quietly and took hold of the bard's wandering hand, pressing the knuckles lightly to her lips.

"Will you sleep with me tonight?" Gabrielle asked quietly.

Xena exhaled, closing her eyes briefly before opening them again with a new gleam.

"Yes."

In the palace, regardless of the ruler's actual or imagined status, life went on. The courtiers whispered and giggled in the corners with the captains of the guard, handsome as the men of war were, while the officials of the court kept the status quo of life with feasts, great fancy dress balls with plentiful drink, and as always their deadly schemes -- for while a well-disposed man was usually clever enough not to lose his life on the battlefields, he was in greater danger of doing so in the royal court.

In the main passageway, just outside the great festival hall from which sounds of drunken singing and ribald laughter emanated, Saba stood in the shadows, swirling around the last of her wine in a goblet. The purple liquid spun wildly in the vessel and her eyes were trained on the dark vortex, though they did not see it; she was so deep in thought.

She would never have accepted this, the First thought, her nose wrinkling in disgust as a very intoxicated soldier passed her with a woman under each arm. He staggered around the corner with much giggling from his companions, leaving behind a strong smell of cheap wine and torch smoke. Never. The Conqueror's court had been a sombre affair, moreso after the disappearance of the bard. It was a place dedicated to ruling the land and waging successful wars, not for indulging in the excesses of life.

The uncertainty of it all bothered her. If the Conqueror truly was dead, Saba knew she was on the right path -- in an alliance with the most hot-headed of her competitors in the game of ascension, for it was the best place for her to keep an eye on him -- but if Xena was still alive...she shuddered at the thought of the consequences, for they were clear: she would die, and not swiftly. It would probably still be better than the alternative, she added gloomily and drained the last of her wine. The Conqueror was a legend, her name whispered with trepidation in all the kingdoms of the world, while she, Saba, as a ruler would forever be in the shadow of the Destroyer of Nations. If there is a fate worse than death, it is obscurity, she thought humourlessly.

The door to the great hall creaked open and through the narrow crack came Etor. With barely-hidden contempt, Saba nodded to the man.

"'Tis done, then?" she asked.

"It is done -- she ate the lamb two candlemarks ago, and a moment ago she retired, citing bad digestion," he replied, smiling widely and looking utterly pleased with himself.

"Good."

"Good?!" he asked and from the tone, it was clear he had enjoyed some of the sweet wine himself. "It is most excellent! With Tyra gone, all we will have to deal with is Erasmus and a few of the other weaklings."

"Lower your voice, fool," Saba hissed. "The walls have more ears than I dare to imagine."

"And what can the walls or their ears do, hmmm, my dear Saba?" he asked, his smile not wavering an inch. "Whisper to the dead perhaps?"

"Do not exalt in your victories, Etor, until the throne is secured."

"Why not?" he roared, gesturing wildly with his goblet. "That wicked bacchae is dead!"

For a moment, the First looked almost wistful, older than her thirty winters.

"For your sake, Etor, I hope so."

It was, she decided, the most wonderful of feelings, waking up to the song of birds. The air was crisp and clear from the cold night -- a night whose chilly touch she had not felt. Opening her eyes, Gabrielle was greeted with the sight of the heavens, pale blue amidst the greenness of the trees.

"Wonderful," she said to herself and wrapped the furs around herself more tightly. They were imbued with Xena's scent and she breathed it in deeply. Sitting up, she looked around, twisting to see the small creek that flowed past their campsite.

"Sweet Aphrodite."

There was Xena, rising from the clear, cold water of the creek, in all her naked glory. The water sheeted off her long frame, leaving behind glistening skin over long, muscled limbs. The dark woman paced closer, her gait the quiet, efficient stride of a predator, and Gabrielle fell in love all over again.

"Oh dear," she mumbled, eyes transfixed on Xena.

"Hm?"

"Oh, nothing," Gabrielle replied and lowered herself to the ground again, trying very hard not to smile. The night, just sleeping in Xena's arms, with the steady slow heartbeat beneath her ear, had been simply exquisite. The feeling of peace inside her was palpable.

"How is your wound?"

Curious. I didn't even remember it, Gabrielle thought and carefully flexed her shoulders. "A bit better. Sore, but not hurting," she said and turned onto her stomach.

"It's healing nicely," was Xena's judgement as she re-dressed the wound.

As the nimble hands worked the herbal paste into the wound, Gabrielle folded her arms in front of her and rested her chin on them. "Wouldn't this be a life worth living?"

"Hmm?" came the one-syllable query.

"Living on the road...nothing to worry about except the next meal..."

"Worth living, yes," Xena replied quietly, "but not possible."

Who was it that described power as, alternatively, a strong arm and a personal prison? Gabrielle wondered and closed her eyes. There were things in life one could not achieve, even when one prayed hard enough to awaken the dead.

As they rode that day, the hard road echoing loudly under Pyrgomache's hooves, the copse of trees that shadowed their trail thinned progressively. What had been a cloudless sky upon the break of morning was now covered with a thick shroud of clouds, and as they emerged from between the last trees of the forest, the first heavy drops of rain sounded with dull pings against the Conqueror's armour.

The healing wound in her back let its existence be known with every jolt of the ride, but Gabrielle didn't complain. She was getting used to pain as her constant companion, having lived with it for many moons. It helped if one didn't think of it, didn't dwell on the neverending white-hot throbbing.

Gabrielle adjusted her grip on Xena's shoulder guard, feeling the chafing of the Conqueror's newest scar with her hand. The wound on her arm had been deep and the remains of stitch marks were still visible. How does she deal with it? Gabrielle thought, feeling the contrast between cold, wet armour and warm flesh. All the pain. She remembered the multitude of scars that decorated the Conqueror's skin, a complicated roadmap of her life carved in her very flesh.

"I ignore it."

Gabrielle's deep thoughts dispersed at the low words and she looked up at the Conqueror, an eyebrow lifted in query.

"The pain," Xena clarified and shifted her gaze momentarily to Gabrielle's hand upon her arm. "That's what you were thinking of, right?"

"Yeah," Gabrielle replied and smiled in wonder. "You do know me well."

Xena smiled and cocked her head. "Your actions speak very clearly of your thoughts."

Gabrielle let go of her arm and shifted her grip to Xena's hips, grasping the thick leather strips of her battle skirt for support as they rode down a hill and took a sharp bend in the road. "Ignore it?" she asked.

"Yes. There is no other way."

Humming in agreement, Gabrielle rested her cheek against Xena's chest and blinked a few raindrops off her lashes. Only then did she focus on the world outside the warm protective cocoon of Xena's cloak.

"Xena..."

"Hmmm?"

"Xena...what is this valley called?"

"Forsalokon," the Conqueror replied as she pulled on the reins, slowing Pyrgomache to a languid canter.

They were passing through a valley of the dead. As far the low valley stretched, to a thicket of trees in the east and a steep ridge of hills in the west, the ground was littered with corpses in various stages of decomposition. Spears stuck out from bared ribcages in a haphazard forest that spanned the lowlands, and the gusty wind caught tattered remains of standards and legion flags that stood sentinel next to their once-proud carriers.

They came to a halt in the middle of the valley, where a pile of bodies blocked the path. With trembling legs, Gabrielle slid down from the horse and walked a few faltering steps, while Xena remained in the saddle, quietly watching the bard.

Turning around and taking in the view of past carnage, Gabrielle let out a small sound of desperation and confusion. "What has happened here?" she asked, gesturing towards the nearest body. It was a man, clad in the light tunic and chest armour of a hoplite. His hands, now but a collection of yellowed bones, were still clutched around an arrow that penetrated his midsection.

"The battle of Forsalokon was at Winter Solstice," Xena said, her voice completely devoid of tone as she dismounted. Wrapping the cloak tightly around her, she stared into the distance, her eyes narrowing as she remembered. "Dissidents from the north."

"Dissidents?" Gabrielle asked as she knelt on the muddy ground next to the hoplite's body.

"My own people, Gabrielle," the Conqueror said, her eyes still on the horizon. "Pushed from their homesteads by barbarians from north and, gone insane from hunger and fear, driven here...where I met them."

In the strengthening rain, the shapes in the ground grew misty and unclear. The pitter-patter of rain on whatever bits of armour still covering the corpses that the nearby villagers hadn't deemed worth scavenging grew louder. Quietly, her knees in the mud, Gabrielle watched the tattered feathers of the arrow that had sealed the hoplite's fate grow wet and limp, and sadness enveloped her heart. The field reeked of more than rotting flesh and the excrement of scavengers; it held a tangible air of hopelessness.

"I rode them to the ground in two candlemarks," the Conqueror said, turning towards the wind. The gusts of air flared her wet hair into a mane of heavy, inky black behind her.

Xena's startling honesty -- the coldness of her words -- spoke volumes to Gabrielle. This had been the reality of Xena's life for so long that she didn't even remember what it was like to fear. Xena couldn't feel or understand the despair that had driven the northern people to such extremes -- she had seen the people merely as a threat to the peace of her nation, nothing else, and so her sword had felt no mercy. Among the dead, they outnumbered Xena's once well-armed and trained soldiers ten to one, doomed to nonexistence by a superior force.

"Does this never end?" Gabrielle asked quietly of the hoplite, but it was the Conqueror that replied.

"As long as there is life in me, Gabrielle, so long will the darkness call me."

Gabrielle pressed her forehead to Xena's chest. The skin was clammy with perspiration.

"Oh...gods, Gabrielle," Xena groaned, her voice a low thrum. Her fingers entwined in the bard's hair as she squeezed her head closer, resting her cheek on the fair hair.

Gabrielle could feel the bunching of Xena's hard abdominal muscles under her palm, even through the thick leather, while her other hand was clenched deep within her.

It had begun innocently enough. She still rode in front of Xena and had tried to get a better hold. She had wormed closer, deeper inside the cloak that shielded them both from the chilly weather. The dark leather of Xena's outfit had felt so nice and smooth, warmed by the woman inside, and its scent both feral and comforting...death and desire. And so the temptation to taste the sweet skin so near her mouth, to feel its tautness over a collarbone, had become unbearable.

Her senses had remembered every tendon, the graceful curve of Xena's neck, how the pulse point under her jawbone fluttered as her heart rate picked up. Her hands had found their way under the battle skirt quickly, lingering but a moment on the smooth skin on Xena's thighs before finding the source of all that heat.

"Right...oh...there..."

Xena's voice was a deep growl, coming so near her ear that Gabrielle could feel the fleeting touch of hot breath on her cheek, before the whipping wind took it away. She pushed harder inside Xena, placing her thumb on her clit. She was rewarded with another long, delighted growl that was drowned in the deafening thunder of hooves against hard ground.

Daring a quick look to her side, Gabrielle regretted it immediately. They were riding on the edge of a steep ridge, the path no more than three spans wide. Suddenly, letting out a wild yell, Xena yanked at the reins with her free hand and Pyrgomache took a turn left, down another path that led down the ridge and towards the shore. Gabrielle held on for dear life, stubbornly refusing to remove her hand from within Xena.

The water was cold as it splashed on her bare legs and Gabrielle curled her toes as a shiver passed through her. Xena was riding the mare through the shallow shore waters, her hooves striking alternately wet sand and the grey waters of the Ionian Sea. Grabbing a firm hold on the intricate grooves of Xena's back plate, Gabrielle bit down on Xena's throat and thrust her hand deeper, so hard her bicep trembled with the strain. The Conqueror moaned, her hand closing almost painfully tight on Gabrielle's hair.

"Darling," Xena whispered, her voice thick. "Harder."

Gabrielle let go of Xena's neck and laid her cheek on the cool edge of her breastplate, her breath coming in short gasps. She could hear blood pound in her ears, as the hand in her hair let go and landed on the small of her back. The palm was large and warm even through her thick tunic and it grabbed her flesh tightly. Gabrielle did as was told; she pushed harder, bending her fingers inside the slick, muscled tunnel. Xena murmured something quite unintelligible and jerked in the saddle. She was getting close.

"Harder," she hissed again to Gabrielle.

Pressing the heel of her palm against the hard nub she felt between Xena's folds, Gabrielle gritted her teeth and wriggled even closer. Her arm was at an awkward angle and Xena moved restlessly around the wildly lurching saddle, so as to control one variable she slid her other hand down and under Xena's skirt, grabbing one muscular cheek. The bones of her hand were nearly crushed when Xena suddenly sat down and leaned back, the wind grabbing her cloak and wild mane of hair as she threw back her head.

"Oh yesss..." she groaned and leaned even further back, small flecks of ocean foam scattering over her heated skin. Gabrielle could see the trembling of Xena's muscles as her hand controlled the reins, the leather thong in the vice-like grip of her hand.

"My love," Gabrielle whispered and bent to lick a bulging vein on Xena's bicep. She traced the defined ridge to the bend circling arm and paused there to suck on the pulse point, all the while her hand worked, rubbing hard against Xena's clit. The Conqueror's moan turned into a ragged scream as she came, her hips lifting off the saddle. Gabrielle's hand was drenched with come and she felt the hot stickiness flow between her fingers and into her cupped palm.

Slowly, Xena returned from her moment of bliss, a lazy, sexy smile on her face as she settled back onto the saddle.

"Darling."

The kiss on Gabrielle's cheek was brief but it left behind a streak of fire. Withdrawing her hand, the bard settled back into the loose embrace, feeling Xena's heart pound.

"You are so beautiful when you come," Gabrielle said quietly, more to herself than to anyone else, but the Conqueror's keen ears caught the words anyway. Xena smiled and kissed the fair head against her chest, still feeling the last warm embers of the passion glow inside her. Shifting her grip on the reins, the Conqueror guided Pyrgomache off the seashore and to the soft sand of the beach. Great clumps of the white sand lifted up with each beat of her hooves.

The beach stretched along the languid curve of the coastline, towards the rocky hills in the horizon. The craggy, jagged gatherings of stone were dark and brooding in the gloom of the day, barely visible through the thin rain that had fallen from the sky all day long.

It was the seventh day of their long journey from Potedaia to the Isthmus of Korinthos. They had avoided the main roads, travelling through narrow paths through vast forests and staying close to the shoreline. And now, behind the hills, lay Korinthos.

As she felt Gabrielle nuzzle her skin, the Conqueror smiled. Korinthos had been the closest thing to a home she'd had in a dozen winters, but without her beloved the place had felt dead. And now she was returning home once again, with Gabrielle by her side.

She squinted towards the horizon. And as for those cowardly bastards that used to be my council...their time has come.

"Gabrielle. Gabrielle, wake up."

A green eye opened. "Hmmmm...?"

"We're close," Xena said and only then did Gabrielle notice that they had stopped, at the foot of the hills where they met the beach. "A candlemark and the cover of the night will be upon us."

Nudging Pyrgomache to a slow canter, the Conqueror guided her towards a massive boulder so smooth it could have been a black pearl from Gaia's necklace. When they came around the boulder, a slight depression in the rock wall was revealed.

"Best I could find."

Gabrielle tilted her head up and offered a small smile, trying to cover the trepidation she felt.

After dismounting and seeing that Pyrgomache got fed, they settled into the small alcove, Xena leaning against the rock wall with Gabrielle sitting between her legs. Setting up a fire was simply out of the question for the smoke would be visible to the city even in the dimming twilight, so Gabrielle burrowed deep into the embrace to keep warm despite the chilling rain and cool wind that blew from the sea. The air smelled of sea plants and salt, moist and heavy.

Though Xena sat quietly enough behind her, her breathing languid and warm as it brushed Gabrielle's neck, the bard could tell that she was dying to get going. The Conqueror's fingers were twitching over their resting place on Gabrielle's stomach...and there was tension in the air. Like an approaching thunderstorm, the bard could smell the coming destruction, feel the energy that was palpable enough to make the small hairs on her arms rise.

"Not long now."

Gabrielle turned slightly, choosing not to look up but settling her gaze on Xena's chakram instead. Tracing the intricate pattern on the shining circle, careful of the razor-sharp edge, she cleared her throat. "You're thinking of going alone, aren't you?"

"Of course I'm going alone. Gabrielle --" the Conqueror began, but was silenced by a slender finger on her lips.

"Shhh. I'm going with you."

"Gabrielle, it's dangerous...and this is my fight, not yours," Xena replied and turned the bard's head fully up, meeting the darkened eyes with her own. Their blue was almost grey now, mute and soulless.

Gabrielle smiled a smile that held not a hint of humour. "So soon you forget?"

"Forget what?" Xena replied, her brows drawing together.

"Your promise," the bard replied simply. "Xena, I want to be part of your life."

"But you are."

"No," Gabrielle said and shook her head, her unseeing eyes settling on the distant horizon. "I want to take part -- not as a spectator, but as an active participant. Be there for you, as you have been for me. I'm not a child anymore, Xena," she continued, smiling sadly to the Conqueror. "Ceased to be one long ago. I want to take responsibility for my own life."

"These people are deadly vipers...dangerous to the extreme."

"War gives and takes away in equal measure," Gabrielle replied and took Xena's hand into hers. "I'd rather die for you than live second-guessing my decision to stay behind, should you get killed," she said and squeezed Xena's hand, feeling the coldness of the long fingers on her palm.

"Hmm," the Conqueror grunted and rose abruptly, stepping over a startled Gabrielle. With wary eyes, the bard followed her lover as she dug out a brush from her saddlebag and applied it to Pyrgomache's inky black coat. The mare must have sensed her mistress' distress because she kept nudging Xena with her muzzle, gently, until she got the Conqueror's attention. Gabrielle couldn't hear what Xena spoke to her horse for the words were low, whispered into one twitching ear.

The last light of the day dimmed slowly, with Gabrielle sitting quietly in the shelter of the boulder, and the Conqueror brushing her battlehorse with long, brisk strokes, until the raven coat all but gleamed. Her moves were paced with an internal rhythm, her gait rolling as she paced around, tying pieces of linen around Pyrgomache's hooves. Walking around the mare one last time, brushing along the muscled flanks with her hand, Xena came to a halt a few yards from the mare. With one fluid move, she pulled out both her swords, the sudden move startling the bard.

The blades caught the last rays of Helios, reflecting the light feebly as they flew through the air, guided by the Conqueror's sure hands. The movement became so rapid that the lines of the swords blurred, until the blades no longer were separate entities; instead, they had become an extension of the Conqueror, part of her body and her soul. The wind keened as the swords sliced through it, the sound ragged and high as if the air itself were in pain.

The exercise, more a warm-up than anything else, was brief and soon the swords disappeared back into their sheaths. The Conqueror herself had become nothing but a dark silhouette to the bard, a striking figure against the pale glow of the sand. After a moment of quiet she dug into her saddlebag and came up with a bundle of cloth. Even in the darkness, as she flared it to its full length, Gabrielle could see its colour: dark, deep crimson.

Xena turned and came closer, extending a hand to Gabrielle.

"Come."

Gabrielle's heart lurched in her chest. "You're taking me with you?"

"Yes. The Fates had a reason for bringing us back together," Xena replied, the white row of her teeth visible even in the low light. "Maybe this is it."

The bard took the offered hand and she was pulled up into a fierce embrace, Xena's lips landing on hers in a searing kiss.

The ride to the outskirts of the city took them but a quarter of a candlemark and by then the pale sickle of the moon had risen in the cloudy sky, visible only momentarily through the rain. Before the final bend in the road that would bring them to the first settlements outside the city walls, Xena reined Pyrgomache in and unsheathed one sword.

"Hold on tight," she told Gabrielle who was riding behind her.

"We merit a welcoming committee?"

"Most probably," Xena replied. "If we find guards, none of them can be allowed to alert the council."

True to Xena's premonition, when they rode the last distance and the walls of Korinthos came into view, there was a squad of troops stationed just outside the outermost sphere of dwellings. Lighted with guttering torches, the men were huddled together, trying to keep warm in the clammy, rainy weather and pass time with games of dice.

Looping the reins even tighter around her hand, the Conqueror gave the sword one lazy twirl before digging her heels into Pyrgomache's flanks. The mare neighed and shot forward at a full gallop, her hooves making little noise with their muffling encasings.

The guards never knew what hit them. Suddenly, out of the darkness emerged a wraith of death clad in a shroud of blood, plowing through them with nary a shred of resistance. That night Xena's sword tasted first blood from a stocky, bearded man who fell with a scream cut short, the front of his leather armour drenched in his blood. Another guard was rendered unconscious with a vicious kick, his head snapping back with sickening speed, while the third caught the hilt of Xena's sword squarely in his face. The rest fell equally quickly, scattered haphazardly and in curious poses on the ground.

After flicking excess blood off her sword and re-sheathing it, Xena loosened her grip on the reins, letting Pyrgomache find her speed as they navigated the narrow, meandering streets between the houses. Korinthos had grown quickly since Xena had assumed the throne, the relative safety and prosperity of the city luring both merchants to settle in, and craftmen to donate their talents to the city. The old city walls had grown too confining and consequently, the metropolis had expanded into the surrounding fields, usually without any pre-planning or order, resulting in narrow alleys that were an unnavigable maze for those who did not know them.

"You're not going to try through the main gates, are you?" Gabrielle asked.

Xena turned her head, just enough for the bard to be able to see the lopsided, cruel smile playing on her lips. "I may be many things but suicidal is not one of them," she replied.

The lane they were riding down terminated abruptly at the city wall and Xena pulled Pyrgomache to a stop right next to it before dismounting. Gabrielle stayed in the saddle, lifting her head up, up, higher still, following the slick stone wall all the way to its top edge, the embattled parapet only dimly visible in the rain, seemingly a thousand feet above her. Mother of Zeus...what did I just get myself into?

Had the night been windless and the guards flies on the outer walls of the city, they would have heard a string of quiet curses elaborate and colourful enough to make a sailor blush. As it was, only the few centipedes skittering across the clammy, moss-covered masonry heard the Conqueror as she clung to the wall.

"...and one more," Xena grunted around the dagger in her mouth, reaching up to grab another one of the slick stones. Her fingers hurt as she grasped for a better hold before pulling herself higher. How ridiculous is this, sneaking into my own city, she reflected wryly as she paused to catch her breath. The next handhold was already the embrasure of the battlement, but just as she was pushing herself up to its level, a scrape of boot against stone made her pause.

Gamw'to! she cursed, freezing into her awkward position. They have added guards to the watch. Another scraping noise, and the wind turned so that the words of a quiet conversation drifted to the Conqueror. The voices were approaching.

"...damn Uranus for siccing this miserable weather on us," one grumbled, and another replied with a grunt, just as the voices passed the Conqueror's position.

One, two, three, the Conqueror counted and pulled herself up, only to land in a crouch on the embrasure and launch into a quick flip. She hit the rampart right behind the two men. ...apples from a tree.

"What...?!"

The question was aborted by Xena's blade as it sliced through the guard's throat. As he went down, clawing futilely at his bleeding neck, the other guard was silenced with a quick stab through the thin bone of his left temple. The scuffle took but the blink of an eye and soon the embrasure was deathly quiet, the guards' blood diluted to pale red pools by the falling rain.

After wiping the dagger and placing it between her teeth again, Xena parted her cloak and unwrapped the long rope coiled around her waist. With the help of the rope, it took only a fraction of a candlemark for Gabrielle to join her. As the bard freed herself from the coil, she darted a quick look around, pausing at the sight of the two dead guards.

"Xena...those are your men."

The Conqueror paused and looked up. Even in the dimness of the night, Gabrielle could see the hard look in her eyes.

"Were. They were my men," Xena said and threw the rope back over the wall. "They ceased to be my men when they chose not to wear my sigil," she added, gesturing towards the bodies. True enough, neither the helmets nor the collars of the men bore any signet of allegiance.

Gabrielle opened her mouth to protest, but Xena had already turned away and was heading towards the nearest ladder in a brisk jog. Shaking her head, the bard followed, her heart pounding for many reasons. It wasn't that she feared this risky operation; Xena's presence was enough to make such fears dissipate. No, she was afraid of what would become of Xena's fragile equilibrium once they reached the castle and she confronted those that had betrayed her so. Oh Athena, please watch over her, Gabrielle prayed quickly before rushing to follow her.

The streets were deserted, not another person in sight as they jogged through the city. Xena's route took them from one shadow to another, their path clinging close to houses and taking them through the narrowest of alleys. Inside a quarter of a candlemark, their quiet journey led them to the castle wall.

"This silence is eerie," Gabrielle whispered to Xena, keeping as close to her as possible. Laying a gentle hand on her back, she felt the muscles there flinch. "Sorry," she said and pulled her palm away. In the darkness, she was almost sure Xena's silhouette had smiled.

"They've placed a curfew. We have another half a candlemark before the guards change and the intrusion is detected," the Conqueror murmured, brushing her hand along the rugged stone wall of the castle as she paced along it. Her sensitive fingers glided over the dark, rain-slick stones, feeling with a knowing touch.

"Are you looking for something?"

"Yes..." Xena hummed, pausing in her stride to smooth her palms over one square stone, only to continue her slow walk a moment later.

"Well, what?"

Instead of a verbal answer, Xena let out a small, satisfied grunt and crouched down next to a largish stone seemingly set tightly in the wall. However, when she scraped some of the mortar away, removed two of the stones surrounding it and gave the bulky, roughly spherical shape a push, it rolled away from the wall, revealing the dark mouth of a narrow tunnel.

"What is this?" Gabrielle asked, bending over to peek into the cramped confines. The tunnel reeked of wet soil, undercut by the faint odour of rotting flesh -- a combination that made her skin crawl.

Pushing her dagger into her boot, Xena reached into the tunnel, deep into the darkness and pulled at something. What emerged was the hand of a skeleton, the small bones of the hands detaching from one another and scattering to the ground. Adjusting her grip on the bony wrist, the Conqueror pulled out the rest of the almost skeletonised body, still wrapped in small slivers of flesh and the tattered remnants of a prisoner's clothing.

"Once, soon after I came here, there was a thief of great talent captured," Xena said as she cast the body aside. "Facing a lifetime in the dungeon, left to rot away slowly, he was desperation itself. He decided to escape."

"That's...him?" Gabrielle whispered, gesturing towards the pile of bones, the grinning skull on top of the heap.

"Yes," Xena said and dusted off her hands, smiling. "I found out about his plan," she continued, indicating the passageway, "when he was about half-way through. I let him dig the rest of it before releasing my hunting dogs into the tunnel."

True to her words, as the clouds momentarily parted to let down Phoebe's light Gabrielle could see teeth marks on the yellowing bones, where the fleshy part of him had been chewed off. She reached out instinctively but caught herself before her hand touched the remains. The skull with its few remaining tufts of hair and empty sockets seemed to be laughing at her from beyond.

"How...efficient," Gabrielle managed and drew away from the skull.

"Indeed," Xena said, wrapping her cloak around herself to keep it out of the way. "I go first, you stay close behind."

Gabrielle nodded silently, her eyes darting between the bony remains of the thief and the tunnel's mouth.

Xena's brows drew together. "Gabrielle. Are you sure you're up for this?"

Blinking, the bard turned her head towards Xena, offering a small smile. I did insist, didn't I? "Yes, of course," she said out loud and clasped her hands together to hide their trembling.

"Good."

Xena's tall form disappeared into the tunnel with nary a sound and, after a deep breath, Gabrielle followed.

In the tunnel it was darker than midnight at the new moon. Gabrielle found it a very disconcerting feeling, not being able to see even her hand held up to her face. Momentarily, as she followed the quiet shuffling of Xena before her and what little her sense of touch was telling her of their path, she experienced a brief wave of nausea in her gut. Her sense of time and place was going haywire and she felt that she was, alternately, falling down and flying towards the heavens.

The earth was damp and soft under her palms as she crawled on all fours, keeping her head low to avoid touching the equally moist ceiling. The thick, dank air stuck to the back of her throat, the thin film tasting of woodsmoke and putrefying flesh. While her hands did occasionally meet something small and furry that shot away with a sound of indignant snickering, she prayed that her touch would not find any more dead men.

"Gabrielle?" Xena's voice was muffled. The bard cleared her throat, vainly trying to rid herself of the acrid taste in her mouth.

"Yes?"

"A few more feet and we'll take a break."

Thank Gaia, Gabrielle thought. Reaching out, she could feel the tunnel widen and she followed the left-hand wall, feeling it curve sharply. Suddenly, something grabbed her hand and it took all her willpower not to scream out loud. She did, however, let out a small yelp that was most efficiently muffled by Xena's hand as she was drawn into an embrace.

"Shhh."

"Sorry," Gabrielle whispered and wrapped her arms around Xena's solid frame, breathing in the comforting scent of her lover. Not dead flesh but instead, the quickness of her blood.

"C'mon. Sit down here."

In the darkness, Gabrielle approximated 'here' as best as she could and found herself sitting in Xena's lap. The light, elusive touch of the Conqueror's cloak surrounded her and she grabbed its edge, fingering the luxurious fabric as she prepared a question.

"About half-way."

Though she was sure Xena couldn't see her smile in the darkness, she smiled anyway, leaning against Xena's breastplate. "Thank you."

"Hmmm," the Conqueror murmured. The voice was low and throaty, pondering, and Gabrielle felt its dark timbre reverberate deep inside her.

It was amazing, she mused, how keen the other senses became when one was useless. In the distance, she could hear the low murmur of flowing water, and over that voice the small sounds of whatever cave-dwellers inhabited this darkness. The small claws of rats rattling over stone, and their squeaks and chirrups.

"This is the old dungeon entrance, no longer in use and thus drained years ago," Xena said. "Prisoners were brought through a gate near the harbour and into this tunnel. The thief's tunnel intersected this passage, and he found the one spot where the water had worn the castle's stone foundation away."

"Where we came through?"

"Yes," Xena replied and wrapped her arms tighter around Gabrielle, who laid her head on Xena's shoulder.

It was a welcome moment of peace for Gabrielle, whose health was still not fully restored. Feeling around with her other hand, she curved her fingers around the top edge of Xena's breastplate, feeling the smoothness of the warmed metal under her palm. The Conqueror's heartbeat was slow and steady, her breath warm on Gabrielle's cheek.

As she adjusted her legs, Gabrielle's foot met something that gave a muted, hollow sound. Reaching out, she found a round shape that was smooth under her fingers, with faint seams running through the surface. Yanking her hand away, she uttered a small sound of surprise.

"Xena! There's another skull here."

"Yes. That must be the guard," Xena murmured.

"What guard?"

"The one that discovered the prisoner's plans. When I released the dogs, I sealed him in here as well."

The cool, detached tone that Xena spoke with made Gabrielle's blood grow cold. "Why?" she asked quietly, not entirely sure she wanted an answer. But as always, Xena was ruthlessly honest.

"To keep the secret only to myself."

For a moment, Gabrielle struggled with her words. "That wasn't...fair," she finally managed, being as unabrasive as possible.

The Conqueror's laughter was hollow. "No. Only sensible."

And that's what it all comes down to, doesn't it? Gabrielle thought. Doing what is most logical, despite the...collateral damage. She had come to understand that Xena was not ruthless out of sheer evil; no, the Conqueror's ruthlessness was born of necessity. Palace politics was not something she enjoyed -- she loathed dangers one could not vanquish with a blade -- but she survived by doing whatever was most efficient and necessary, however cruel a solution that might be.

In effect, there must be two Xenas, Gabrielle mused, resting her head on Xena's shoulder. There was the one who cherished battle, and then the other who did whatever was necessary so she could go on doing what she so loved -- waging war. She shook her head, closing her eyes.

"Xena, why do you do it?"

The Conqueror rested her cheek against the cool tresses of Gabrielle's hair and shrugged. "There is no one else to do it."

And that's the crux, isn't it? Gabrielle sighed. While Xena was as ruthlessly effective in her dealings as the ruler of a nation as she was on a battlefield, in the palace one could rule with fear only for so long. Daggers were sharper here, and tongues held venom bitter enough to make even the mightiest of rulers fall. In all of the hundreds of solar cycles of Korinthos' written history, only two rulers had died of natural causes -- a legacy that spoke clearly of the violent nature of ascension: it was never a question of if, but one of when.

"C'mon. Let's go on," Xena said and nudged Gabrielle off of her. As the darkness swallowed her warmth again, Gabrielle shivered momentarily before she followed.

"The guard station is just beyond that corner," Xena whispered, gesturing down the dimly lit hallway. "Usually two guards. I'll go and --"

"Shhh," Gabrielle hissed suddenly, pressing her fingers to Xena's mouth. "Listen."

The darkness had heightened her senses, but the tunnel had ended long ago, and the dungeons were always lit. Gabrielle could still hear the small scavengers skitter around, the sound of their scurrying almost drowned by that of the guttering torches lining the walls and the faint moaning of prisoners, their misery evident in their voices raised in cries of pain, and in the scent of fresh blood that clung to the air. But above all that noise, she could hear...singing.

Xena had cocked her head and was listening, her head turning as she tried to locate the sound. "It's a children's song."

"Yes, but it's being sung in Egyptian," Gabrielle whispered back.

Understanding flashed in Xena's eyes and she went to the cell that was the source of the tune. A quick peek inside and she turned back, nodding to Gabrielle. After signaling for her to wait, Xena ran down the corridor and around the corner. Gabrielle covered her ears to the sounds of flesh parting from bone, the muffled screams of the guards abrupt and desperate. In a moment, Xena came back, holding a blood-soaked dagger in one hand, a set of keys in the other.

"You're bleeding," Gabrielle noticed as Xena turned towards the cell door. The Conqueror glanced at the deep gash in her shoulder and frowned.

"How stupid of me. One of the guards must've gotten lucky," she said, shrugging. "No matter."

There was a small hatch embedded in the door. Xena slid the panel aside, revealing a small stone chamber, lit by a lone torch guttering on the far wall that illuminated a tattered figure slumped to the floor.

"Mentuhetep," Xena said quietly, her voice warm and unobtrusive. Inside the cell, the figure paused in its quiet song and straightened, a question in his eyes.

"Mistress...?"

"Yes indeed, my friend," Xena said and smiled. Mentuhetep -- her trusted advisor, strategist, friend and mother hen, all in this one slight body -- stood up and tried to approach the door. His attempt was halted abruptly as the chains pinioning him to the wall reached their limit. He stumbled but stood up again, his dark eyes glittering in the dim light.

"I cannot tell you how good it is to see you again. The shadow of Nephthys is powerful down here, as are rumours," Mentuhetep said, pausing momentarily. "The latter had you dead."

"And how many times have I been pronounced dead in the past, Mentu?" the Conqueror said, struggling momentarily with the rusted lock before she got the door open.

"More times than I have fingers to count," Mentuhetep smiled, his teeth a white flash against his dark skin as he accepted the Conqueror's careful hug. Xena lifted him into the air, a small chuckle escaping her lips. When he was finally set to the ground, Mentu's eyes found Gabrielle. "Mistress Gabrielle."

Smiling, Gabrielle stepped forward, taking his hand and squeezing it. "I'm glad to see you alive, Mentuhetep."

"Yes, well, I think they were just trying to decide upon the most painful means of death for me," he replied with a hollow grimace. He retrieved the keys to his shackles from the Conqueror. "The last time I heard, they had narrowed it down to flaying me alive or evisceration." As he bent down to unlock the chains, his back and its collection of whip marks came into the light, framed by his shirt, torn and stiffened by all the blood it had absorbed.

"I'm so...sorry, my friend," the Conqueror murmured, her eyes flashing at the sight of the bloody stripes on his back. He paused in his task and looked up, offering Xena a small smile.

"You have saved me from so many deaths already. This is nothing."

The shackles fell to the floor, and soon the cell was again occupied by only memories of pain and death.

"She's coming, Etor. I can feel it in the very marrow of my bones."

Saba paused, lifting a waiting eyebrow to her companion who remained silent, his eyes glazed and red-rimmed.

"I don't know when, but I can almost smell her," Saba continued and sipped from her goblet, setting the intricately etched vessel on the armrest of the throne. Brushing her hand over her forearm, she smiled. "The hairs on my arms are lifting. There's something in the air, Etor..."

Resting her head against the throne's high back, she let her gaze travel around the cavernous throne room, currently empty except for her and her companion. Her eyes finally settled on Etor, meeting his glassy gaze.

"No comments, my good man? You're usually so talkative," Saba murmured, smiling. "Perhaps this is hindering your speech," she continued and leaned forward, curling her fingers around the dagger's hilt and yanking it out of Etor's chest. A low, hissing sound came from the wound, along with a healthy gush of fresh blood. Etor slumped forward, almost sliding off the chair.

Twirling the blood-coated dagger in her free hand, Saba lifted a weary eyebrow towards the silent corpse. "Guess that wasn't it, either."

A sudden loud commotion drew her attention away from her dark musings, and she sat up just in time to see the main doors to the throne room burst open. Through the opening streamed in what seemed to be half of the honour guard, led by her lieutenant.

"Basilio! Why are you in such a hurry that you don't have time to knock?" Saba asked of the man, the pronounced pallor of his face striking worry in her chest.

"My lord," Basilio said and bowed hastily. His eyes, round and wide as gladiator shields, darted around the room. "We have found two guards dead."

"Where?"

"On the southern rampart of the city walls," he replied, fingering the hilt of his sword nervously. "They were both killed before they even managed to get their weapons out."

"Southern rampart, you say?" Saba murmured, lifting her eyes to the long lengths of bunting that decorated the ceiling of the vast hall. They were still in the Conqueror's colours, for there had not been time to take them down. And now...there never will be, Saba though bitterly.

"Yes, my lord. I do not understand how someone could have surprised them."

In response, Saba hummed in agreement, lifting the goblet to her lips. From the brightly-coloured cloths her gaze shifted to her lieutenant. A good man he is, Basilio...good man. Not too bright, though, she added, correct in her judgement. And so she was the only one who did not jump out of her skin when a low, powerful voice rose from behind the row of pillars circling the room.

"I climbed."

A quiet hush travelled through the troops scattered haphazardly over the central atrium, and all heads turned towards the source of the new voice.

The Conqueror stepped around the pillar and into the light, the silence in the cavernous room almost deafening. The dagger was hidden in her boot again so she strode through the troops empty-handed, her gait smooth and efficient, paying no attention to the swords drawn in her wake.

"I climbed the wall," she repeated, smiling, and lifted a hand to show her bloodied fingers. The rest of her was covered in a thin film of wet earth, small scrapes dotting the dark sheen with their crimson. The wound on her shoulder was seeping quietly, rivulets of blood running down to her fingertips and from there, to the floor. The only spot of colour on her otherwise dark countenance were her eyes -- two bright pinpoints of cool blue, their presence hypnotising.

The gaggle of troops parted before her, all eyes cast to the floor except those belonging to Saba and her lieutenant. The scrape of steel against leather was obscenely loud in the quiet hall as Xena unsheathed one of her swords, giving it a lazy twirl before resting it against her shoulder.

"So he was wrong after all," Saba said, her voice trembling slightly as she gestured towards Etor. All colour had drained from her face.

Xena glanced at the sad, slumped form in the chair and flashed a bright smile, the very tips of her prominent canines resting on her lower lip. "Close, but not quite," she said, her voice a throaty purr.

At the words Gabrielle, still behind the pillar, closed her eyes briefly. It was again the darkness speaking, the velvet voice of death incarnate. The tang of blood was already in the air.

"Why, Saba?"

The woman shrugged and rose gingerly, as if she were unsure whether her legs would work or not. Descending the few steps that led down from the throne, she replied: "I really didn't have a choice, now did I? It was kill or be killed."

"How very true," the Conqueror smiled and swept her sword through the air in a languid arc. At the apex of the move, she shifted her grip and abruptly shoved the blade behind her. It caught Basilio square on his abdomen and he jerked in surprise, but the Conqueror held on to the grip, pressing it against her pelvis for better support. Basilio let out a moist, coughing scream.

"A vipers' pit, this is," Saba said and made a sweeping gesture with the goblet, seemingly unmoved by the impending death of her lieutenant.

"But you managed to survive."

"Yes."

Xena yanked her sword out of the dying man, sending a delicate spray of blood flying. It fell upon the stone floor gently, like the first drops of spring's first rainstorm, quietly. Basilio crumpled to the ground less gracefully, letting out one last wheezing breath before his body stilled.

"Where are the others?"

"I am," Saba murmured, tilting her head with a sad smile, "the last one left."

"Congratulations," the Conqueror hissed, rage flashing in her eyes.

All that Saba had time for was to lift her goblet in a salute, before Xena suddenly stepped forward, her sword pulled back. The blade made a high-pitched whine as it sliced through the air, not diverting from its path nor slowing down as it cleanly severed Saba's head from her shoulders.

The sound the head made as it dropped to the floor was most curious -- like an over-ripe melon, soft and muted, just loud enough to make everyone in the room cringe. Saba's slender body followed the head, suddenly limp limbs folding together. The goblet she had been holding was let loose from lax fingers and it met the stone floor with a hollow, metallic clang, spilling its contents. An ever-widening pool of blood was forming around Saba's shoulders, her blood mixing with the rich wine to create one lake of crimson, thick and warm.

"Idiot," Xena murmured disgustedly and shook her head, grabbing the edge of the nearest guard's cloak. After cleaning her sword with the garment as the man looked on, terrified, she stepped into the puddle, grabbing Saba's head by its long mane of dark hair. With her garish prize, she turned towards the ethereally silent onlookers. "Here is your brave ruler now," she said in a clear voice and threw the head towards the thickest clique of troops. The men scrambled away from the bloody head as if touching it had meant similar fate, and so it rolled across the floor undisturbed.

"Are the rules of ascension clear?!"

Her question never received a verbal answer. The soldiers simply dropped their weapons and retreated, their eyes cast anywhere but at the ired Conqueror, hoping to avoid her wrath. She let them go in peace, watching as the last of them vanished through the main doors. Again, quiet settled into the throne room.

"Cowards," Xena muttered, resting the tip of her sword against the floor and leaning on it, her posture suddenly weary.

"Xena..." Gabrielle said quietly, coming to stand by her side. He hand hovered briefly over Xena's blood-covered arm, finally settling on her bicep and around the wide band of leather there, the bronze decorations cool against her palm. "Xena."

"I'm all right, Gabrielle," the Conqueror replied, closing her eyes at the falsity of her words. Taking a deep breath, she let the surface tension drain away. "They're all gone. I killed the last one of them," she muttered, shaking her head.

"Your council?"

"Yes," Xena replied, gripping the sword with two hands and turning her eyes towards Gabrielle. The bard was startled to see how dull their usually-radiant blue was, and how deep the mud-encrusted lines around them were. Casting her eyes down, the Conqueror stepped away from Gabrielle's warm touch, her sword swinging loosely in her hand. With a few casual steps, she was standing next to Saba's head, staring into the glazed eyes, wide and dark in their look of utter surprise.

Instinctively, Gabrielle flinched as Xena kicked the head, sending it rolling towards the far end of the room. It was halted by a pillar and stopped there, rocking quietly at the root of the thick stone column. The Conqueror turned around, her eyes trained towards the unseen sky, blinking.

"I'm just so tired," she murmured.

"Pardon?" Gabrielle said, stepping closer. Her hand was extended towards Xena but she thought better of it as she saw the simmering wrath in Xena's eyes that suddenly turned towards her, slicing through her very soul with frightening ease. So instead she just entwined her hands in front of her, meeting Xena's gaze with worry in her heart.

"I said," the Conqueror hissed, "that I am tired!" Her last word was almost shouted, her powerful voice echoing in the empty hall. Suddenly, she let out a wild yell, the hunting cry of a predator, and turned around, her sword cleaving the air around her.

"Tired of this back-stabbing nest of vultures!"

At the words, she pulled her sword back and threw it with all her might. The twirling blade caught the light of the dozens of candles illuminating the room, casting nervous, fleeting reflections of flames on the far walls. It cut cleanly through a candelabrum, scattering the candles all over the stone floor, before colliding with a pilaster. The sound was a deafening clang, its power freezing time in the throne room.

"So tired," the Conqueror said again, her voice suddenly weary and subdued. Covering her face with her bloodied hands, she collapsed on her knees. "Dear Athena...help me."

A warm hand landed on her shoulder, staying there momentarily before it came around to her wrist and gently pried her hands away.

"Xena..." Gabrielle whispered, crouching down to her level. She could feel Xena's rapid pulse at the wrist she was holding, through the thick tendons and the layer of grime and gore. "Look at me. Please."

Quickly, the blue eyes flicked to her, their movements feverish. They were dry and burning, rage smouldering in the background. It was as close to tears as Gabrielle had ever seen her.

"I'm weary of fighting a constant war on two fronts, Gabrielle," Xena said quietly, every word pronounced with great care. "Most of my life I have spent at court," she continued, gesturing at the throne, "wary of the next dagger or the next fool who would try to poison me.

"I am a soldier, Gabrielle. I live on the battlefield, and there is where I want to die as well -- not from some lowly assassin's knife in my bed, but on my own two feet, my sword in my hand, wet with the blood of my enemy."

Gabrielle let go of her wrist and brushed Xena's cheek with the back of her hand, mute in wonder at Xena's piercing honesty. She was pulled into a fevered embrace, the Conqueror's long arms wrapping around her, and she felt herself melt at the intensity of the contact, and at the weight of Xena's words.

"Mistress..."

Both heads turned towards the quiet voice, finding Mentuhetep sitting on the steps leading up to the throne, a thoughtful look on his narrow features.

"Yes, Mentu?" Xena replied quietly, tilting her head expectantly. The man's eyes fairly twinkled with excitement.

"There might be a solution, mistress."

"Well, my good man," the Conqueror said, dredging up a smile despite her ennui. "I am, as they say, all ears."

[faveficarchive]

KISS OF LETHE

by Scarabae

Chapter 1- The Undiscovered

The tall woman stood on the cliff, facing the sea. The crisp, salty air filled her lungs. She liked to come up here, where there was peace and quiet. She could be absolutely still with herself.

"Tychias, pardon me, Tychias? I am sorry to intrude, but..."

The tall woman turned towards the sound of the voice, a small sigh escaping her lips.

"Tychias, I am glad I found you here. There is a meeting of the Elders in the Great Hall. Master Scholar, Aristhemes, asked for your presence at the table." The young man stood, trying to catch his breath and deliver the message at the same time.

"Daemon, of course you knew I'd be here, where else would I be? Out challenging the gods?" Tychias laughed as she walked towards Daemon. He was one of her favorite students, there was something about him that made her especially fond of him.

Daemon smiled, looking down, unable to meet her gaze. His heart always felt like a trapped animal whenever he looked into those ocean deep blue eyes.

"No Tychias, I mean, yes Tychias." He stammered, intently studying the knot work of his sandals. Tychias smiled at him, but he did not see it. To look at her, with her dark hair whipping from behind her and those eyes, he felt like an ant before a mountain.

She stepped past him, touching him lightly on the sleeve as she moved back towards the path.

She asked him quietly as she moved past him,

"Are the Elders meeting for the topics of the upcoming gathering?"

"N n no, Tychias, they are meeting concerning recent reports from the villagers up the coast, reporting an army that has started to arrive."

"Why should we care about an army? We are an academic forum, we have nothing to fear..."She stopped, a shadow flickering across the sun, and across her face. She paused and looked up for a moment, then continued her way down the path, towards the courtyard and the Great Hall.

Daemon fell in step behind her striding figure, the wind whipping their scholars robes behind them as they moved down the cliff.

Daemon knew that it was no small wonder why he and his classmates clamored for her teachings. It was not so much the first attraction that each of them admitted to, but rather, being in her presence was like being with a force of nature. With her lioness prowl in front of the assembly. The way she had of making her point absolutely clear. Standing absolutely still, fixing you with those eyes, and rebutting your argument as fine and as quick as a fisherman could gut a fish. Why she taught out here, at the edge of nowhere, no one knew. Daemon shook his head slightly as he continued to follow her down.

Tychias knew the young man was not pondering the latest point on aesthetics. More than likely, he was wondering what she was doing here. She had often wondered the same thing. Why was she here? As for herself, she only knew what Aristhemes had told her, when she first regained consciousness. She had awoken so stiff she could not move, every fiber of her being screaming in pain. When her eyes had finally opened, slightly more than a slit, she saw the halo of white hair, and a grizzled face gazing down at her.

"You are awake, good. After five days, I was beginning to become concerned." He smiled as her eyes fluttered open.

"I confess I have never seen anyone sleep for 5 days before. You are at the Forum, out by the Nyccian cliffs. I am still puzzling how you got here, the closet village is easily half a days ride." He paused, she croaked out, her mouth so dry.

"Who are" she didn't finish, the "you" came out more as an exhalation of breath than a question.

He had offered a goblet of water, and something else, something bitter, up to her lips, she had taken a small sip.

"I am Aristhemes, the Master Scholar here." She had passed out again, after hearing his name.

When she awakened again, she had no memory prior to the memory of Aristhemes talking to her.

In the weeks that followed, he stopped by to speak to her between his duties. She enjoyed listening to the gentle scholar. He told her how she had come to them, one rainy night, in a bloodstained tunic, and breeches that were bloody and torn. She had staggered across the courtyard, and as he had approached her, she reached out to him, her blue eyes burning with fever and fear, and whispered, "I am..."before she collapsed to the ground, her arm still reaching out.

She had been at the Forum ever since. She was given scholars robes, for she knew much about calculations and strategies. She engaged even Aristhemes in lively discussions. To repay their kindness, as she regained her strength, she helped plan and build several additions. It had been at her urging and mediation that the Great Hall was designed and built by everyone at the Forum.

Aristhemes called her Tychias, one who comes by chance.Chapter 2: The Discussion Begins

Daemon followed behind Tychias, knowing from the look on her face that she was deep in thought. He had often wondered if she thought as much about the story of her arrival as the others did? It was a story that was faithfully passed on from student to student, just like the story of their Ethos Scholar, who partook of ale in between lectures. Some of the older boys claimed to have seen the clothes she was wearing, and there was one who said he was there the night she arrived.

He breathed a small sigh of relief as he saw that she was heading directly to the Great Hall. What he hadn't passed along was that the Elders and Scholars were in a state of absolute uproar, except for the Master Scholar, who quietly told Daemon where to find Tychias.

Tychias stepped off the path into the courtyard, she made her way to the large oak doors that marked the entrance of the Great Hall. She started humming softly to herself, singing had always calmed her, it was something she could do on the cliffs where no one could hear. She had shared it only once, with Aristhemes, when he was ill 2 winters ago. She hoped the humming would settle the unease that was creeping along her spine.

Inside the Great Hall, the Elders debated quietly among themselves, while the scholars were much less discreet in their opinions.

"Tell her who she is, show her the weapons that she came garbed in it is only because of her the army has arrived."

"We don't know that, and she has shown no signs of recovering her identity."

"She has formed a new one, she is Tabula Rusa incarnate."

"Bah, we have let her stay for too long. We all feared this day would come. One such as she cannot leave violence at the door."

"She has left it behind, it is no longer hers to know, look at all that she has given to us since her arrival. We have benefited greatly from this arrangement."

"Enough!" Aristhemes stood from his position at the head of the center table, his arms planted firmly on the table.

The other's stopped, some in mid-sentence, to turn and face him.

It was into this silence that Tychias strode in to the Great Hall. All eyes turned from Aristhemes to Tychias.

"Waiting for me? I didn't mean to keep you." She smiled charmingly at the scholars and elders.

Slipping in behind her, Damn crept along the wall towards the hallway that led to the students dining hall. As he disappeared down the hallway, he turned back, and caught a glimpse of Tychias smiling at him. He turned away quickly and ran down the hall.

Arithemes smiled and motioned her towards his table. She nodded and approached his table, slicing across the length of the hall with her long, easy stride. He marveled at how she appeared to be gliding across the floor, with her scholar's robes just brushing the ground behind her.

The scholars settled back in their chairs, some murmuring among themselves. It was not that they truly disliked her, Tychias was always very gracious, and with a sharp wit. If she was close to none of them, save for Aristhemes and a few students, no one could say why that was. There was just always a sense of distance, of not quite actually getting in.

"You asked me to come, Master Scholar?" She tipped her head slightly, a gesture of respect. Aristhemes smiled again, there was nothing really deferential about her demeanor in her manner.

"Thank you for coming so quickly, Tychias, I know how much you value your walks." He smiled broadened as he reached out to take her hands in his.

"We were just discussing the unsettling news that an army has settled along the coast."

Tychias sat down and returned the warm smile to the elderly man. Her blue eyes sparkling as she smiled at him. She harbored a great fondness for Aristhemes, not only for his compassion and patience, but his wisdom as well. She loved to listen to him speak, his voice soothed her, and his talks of loyalty, truth, and the greater good struck something deep within her. He always said, as his talks were winding down, "The heart is the greatest healing force on this earth. It will heal everything, if you listen to it." Tychias sometimes felt like she had heard this before, but attributed it to the fact that she had heard it so many times from Aristhemes.

"Is there cause for concern Aristhemes?"

"No, I have prayed to Athena, and there seems to be no indication of an impending attack." He squeezed her hands and then turned to address the other scholars. Tychias sat and listened attentively.Chapter 3: The Path

The light haired woman leaned against her staff. Weariness settled in her bones like a fog that would not lift. How many years had she been on the road? Searching for the whereabouts of her best friend and former constant traveling companion. Every tale or rumor of the Warrior Princess and Gabrielle had set off to investigate.

In some villages she had battled and revealed impostors for their petty tyranny, trying to capitalize on Xena's Warlord reputation. In others they would swear that they heard her riding through the night, and sometimes even seen her disappearing form melting into the distance. Xena had been transformed into either a beacon of hope among the downtrodden or a tale to enforce obeying whatever rules were particular to a village. No matter where she went, and how many dead ends she reached, Gabrielle always took the time to tell the tales of the Xena she had known. It kept Xena alive and bright in her mind. True, she no longer had the look of the young bard who had joined Xena all those years ago, determined to find adventure. Her frame was thinner and her eyes a bit more haunted. The result of the long stretches of time she had spent between villages and sightings, living off a scant diet dried fruit, bread and the occasional hunk of cheese. She often walked from before dawn until she could see the road no longer. She feared that if she rested for too long, she might actually miss Xena somewhere along the way.

There were others, their friends, that had joined in the search. She had traveled the road with each of them at one time or another. They had their obligations, and responsibilities. When each of them finally had to go back to their families and duties, they would squeeze her hands, or hug her tightly, and tell her in some form or another "Once she is found, send word, and I will fly there like the fastest of Poseidon's steeds, or on Hermes winged sandals." Gabrielle understood, for where could Xena be that a legion of people searching for her could not find? Hercules had even spent time with his relatives, trying to discern any news. Marcus contacted her in a dream to tell her sadly that wherever Xena was, it was not amongst the dead. Gabrielle had awoken and knew that no matter how tired she was, she had to keep searching. She was on the road again, after hearing about the latest rumor of Xena's existence, she hoped that this was just another false alarm because she knew what was coming. Gabrielle planted her staff firmly before her and began walking again. She had learned long ago to push the weariness and exhaustion from her thoughts and just walk.

She had gotten the news while sitting and eating the dinner she had exchanged her tales for. They were good tales, and as she told them, she could almost feel Xena standing at the back of the pub, her arms crossed with a hint of a smile playing across her lips as she listened to Gabrielle's rendition of the adventure.

Gabrielle had sat alone after, savoring the warmth of her meal. Cooked meals were a luxury at this point, so she relished every bite. The table beside her had filled up with several large rough looking men. They ordered several pitchers of ale, and then sat drinking sullenly from their tankards.

Gabrielle was acutely aware of them in their silence, even more on edge than if they acted like the typical soldier, boisterous and drunk.

She was soaking up the last of the gravy from the bottom of the bowl with her last piece of hearth bread. The torches along the wall flickered and a gust of cool air rushed through the pub. She looked up and saw a tall, attractive man standing in the doorway. He surveyed the room and then made his way over to the table of men in three long strides.

She saw his black polished armor, the glistening insignia for Lieutenant, and the blood red seal of Ares.

"Great," she thought as she chewed on the last piece of juice soaked bread, "mercenaries."

Over the last few years had watched the disintegration of the Warlord's powers. Destroyed by bad politics, betrayals, in fighting and petty wars. As the Warlords power eroded. a new, more frightening breed was festering. The mercenary bands. They were quick to sell their services to the highest bidder and then turn around and sell out their employer if his enemy paid more. She had heard tales from one too many villagers who had hired a mercenary band for protection only to have another roving band come along and offer them more. Too often, the protectors became the violators. They all wore the crest of Ares on their armor. The God of War was apparently less particular about whose blood was shed or why.

"Aye ya pathetic group of slags," the lieutenant laughed as he picked up a pitcher of ale and took a long hard swallow. He slammed the pitcher back down.

Gabrielle noticed everyone in the pub studiously avoiding looking over at the table. The food, or remnants of food and the bottom of their tankards were much more interesting to them.

"All of you that are interested, we are hiring for an army. The pay is 4 dinars a day, meals and travel." The lieutenant paused, listening to the sound of discontent rumbling below the surface. "Ah, and did I mention the bonus?" He smiled slyly, "5000 dinar for the soldier that brings in the head of Xena."

Gabrielle's blood turned to ice at the sound of Xena's name.

"Eh? That warrior wench is dead, she ain't been seen fer years." One of the men spoke, then cleared his throat and spat on the floor.

"Lovely." Gabrielle thought, her nose wrinkling slightly.

"You worthless son of a pig, you would question the word of Ares himself?" The lieutenant leaned forward and glared at the man.

"Ares hisself? That cannot be."

Gabrielle sat stock still, listening hard to every word. "Ares himself, why now, why after all these years? Had he always known?" Gabrielle clenched her teeth, her blood beginning to do a slow boil.

"Aye, Ares has pointed to, of all things, a Forum, located in a valley on the far side of the Nyccian cliffs. We load up the ship, Temerity and set sail in two days time, pass the word." The lieutenant leaned back, then turned and walked back out. He was gone in five strides.

The table had come alive, with all their shifting forms and animated voices.

"By the gods, the warrior wench still alive."

"I owe her for a thing or two, I do."

"I'd like to show her a thing or two, hehehe."

"There are tales of her everywhere, but they are just tales."

"At the Forum, what is she doing there?"

"Hah! Xena, Scholar Princess."

The table burst into guffaws and more degenerating comments from there.

Gabrielle had pulled her pack together and quietly slipped out. She was wondering the same thing, how had Xena gotten there?

The sound of pounding hooves snapped Gabrielle's' attention back to the present. She heard the sound of horses being ridden hard along the road before her. She stepped back into the shadows along the side of the road, behind a tree, and watched as two more mercenaries thundered past, on their way to the dock, undoubtedly.

She watched them pass, and thought back to the last time she had seen Xena...Chapter 4: A Village Saved is a Friend Lost

The young girl on the side of the road had been cowering and covering her head when Xena and Gabrielle passed by. Xena reined Argo to a halt and slid from the saddle. Gabrielle looked around, she leapt into fighting stance with her staff held ready.

"What is it? What do you hear Xena?"

Xena looked over and laughed, "I don't hear anything except you stirring up dust. Gabrielle, trust your instincts instead of mine. There is a child over there." She pointed towards the side of the road.

Gabrielle smiled sheepishly. "Oh, I knew that. I was just testing you. See if you'd panic." She followed Xena as they made their way towards the child.

It was a young girl, and when she saw Xena approaching she screamed and began throwing small pebbles and sticks, whatever she could get her hands on.

"Ok, Ok, shhh, shhh. It's ok. We're not going to hurt you. See, we'll stop here." Xena held up her hands and stopped.

The barrage of weeds, dirt and sticks continued for a moment, and then abated. The girl looked at them, her eyes wide with terror.

"What are we going to do?" Gabrielle whispered.

"I don't know, maybe one of us would be less frightening. Would you mind moving Argo off to the side of the road and wait?" Xena whispered back.

Gabrielle touched Xena lightly on the shoulder in assent, and began to back away slowly.

"Go get Argo, feed Argo. Am I a bard or a horse keeper?" Gabrielle asked herself as she finally turned and walked towards Argo, who was of course giving her that sidelong look.

"I am going to sit here, on the road, so you don't have to strain your neck, ok?" Xena said as she slowly folded her legs beneath her. The girl scooted back slightly, never taking her eyes off Xena.

Xena settled across from the young girl, smiling at her, her arms still in front of her.

"I'm Xena, that's my friend Gabrielle, and my horse Argo. Who are you?"

The girl didn't speak.

Xena thought for a moment, and then began to hum softly. It was an old children's song that her mother used to sing her. The girl cocked her head, as if trying to make out the strains of what she was humming.

Xena paused, then started to sing the actual song, softly, to the girl.

Gabrielle turned towards the sound, astonished. She had heard Xena sing only one other time, and that was at Marcus's second funeral.

Xena kept her gaze on the young girl, singing this children's song for this frightened young girl, the song she would never sing for Solan.

Maybe it was her singing, or the pain that flashed across her face as she thought of Solan, but the girl relaxed slightly and inched towards Xena. Examining Xena more closely. Softly, the girl began to sing, in a reed thin voice. Xena smiled across at her and kept singing.

Gabrielle walked Argo off to the side of the road, still astonished. Xena never ceased to amaze her. How could this be the same woman that they called the Destroyer of Nations? "Amazing isn't she Argo?"

Argo snorted and bent back down to graze.

"You're a horse, what do you know?" Gabrielle laughed as she sat down in the field.

Several songs later, Xena stopped and asked again. "What is your name?"

"Atthis." The girl whispered softly.

"You sing very well Atthis, what are you doing here on the side of the road?"

"I, I ran from the village. We were attacked." Atthis's voice wavered and she began to cry.

"I am sure your parent are very worried about you. How about if I go into the village to see if it's safe?"

"We can't go back, they'll kill you, or worse. I couldn't find my parents, I couldn't find them anywhere." Atthis began to cry harder.

"I'll help you look." Xena said, already her blood beginning to rush through her. 'Curses on these stupid Warlords, one and all'. She felt the piercing pain of regret, 'did my armies ever do this? Forced a child to flee in terror, sitting and cowering somewhere, too frightened to move. Obviously they had, after all Callisto was proof of that.'

She shook her head slightly, focusing once again on Atthis.

"What happens if they kill you?" Atthis asked between sniffles.

"They can try, but I don't think they will." Xena flashed a large grin at Atthis, holding her hand out towards the girl.

Atthis looked at the outstretched hand, and then tentatively placed her own in the center of it.

"Shall we go and scare those attackers back to where they crawled out from?" Xena closed her hand gently on the small hand. It was like holding a small fluttering bird.

Atthis still looked scared to death, but nodded her head.

"By the gods, Atthis, no harm will come to you." Xena spoke solemnly to the girl, hoping that she could keep her word.

Gabrielle smiled as she saw the both of them walking across the road towards her.

"Gabrielle, this is Atthis, Atthis, this is Gabrielle, and Argo." Xena said as they approached.

"Hi Atthis," Gabrielle gave her a big smile. 'At least I was introduced first,' she thought to herself.

They made their way towards the village, Atthis riding in front of Xena as Gabrielle walked along side.

Just outside of the village, Xena stopped, and looked down at Atthis.

"I think maybe I should put you in a tree somewhere, and then come back once I have sent them away."

Atthis looked up, "What if you don't come back? Then what will I do?"

"If I cannot, then Gabrielle will. Won't you Gabrielle?"

"Of course, Atthis, I promise you." Gabrielle smiled up at Atthis.

"O, ok." Atthis shrugged slightly, not wanting to leave Xena, but also not wanting to go back into the village. She had seen the soldiers cut down some of the bravest men in the village.

"Ready?." Xena wrapped her arms around Atthis, and then leapt off of Argo. The moment she hit the ground she began sprinting towards a tree, took a small leap, and then catapulted into the air. Atthis squeezed her eyes shut. She felt the air around her, then a 'thump'. She opened her eyes to find herself in one of the trees. Xena still holding her, standing on a large branch.

Xena smiled and placed her in the crook of the large branch and trunk.

"You can see from here, you'll be able to see when I have run them off, and then you can start counting, because Gabrielle or I will be back before you count to 100. Can you count that high?"

Atthis nodded, leaning back against the trunk.

"Good. Be right back." Xena smiled at Atthis and then jumped off the tree. Atthis gasped and then peered over the edge of the branch. Xena was leaping from branch to branch. She leapt down, grabbed a low hanging branch and swung down onto Argo's back.

"Show-off." Gabrielle laughed, waving up into the trees at Atthis.

'You say that every time." Xena replied, nudging Argo forward and waving at Atthis.

"Only because if that were me, Argo would have stepped forward just a step, and my bottom would be very sore and very dusty." Gabrielle replied as they moved on towards the village. Xena laughed down at her friend.

The closer they got to the village, the quieter they became. Xena was trying to tell how many soldiers were involved. It was hard to tell with all the chaos and mayhem that accompanied the rampant slaughtering during an attack of these small villages. The tangy smell of blood, sweat and dust ignited something in her. Xena drew her sword and gave her battle cry, as Argo galloped into the center of the village.

"Ayyiyiyiyiyiyi!"

Gabrielle hefted her staff and ran in behind Xena, striking soldiers with quick hard blows. All that time practicing and talking to Argo has certainly helped, she thought as she ducked a swinging sword and struck her attacker hard in the gut, as he doubled over, she brought it back up and clocked him squarely on the chin.

Xena's stood on the ground as Argo ran through the clusters of men, her sword flashed around her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw four soldiers advancing on two women and several small children. Her eyes narrowed and a sneer started across her lips, in one fluid motion she raised her sword with one hand, deflecting an oncoming blow, and grabbed her Chakram with the other hand, slicing it through the air.

The four soldiers heard the screaming of the Chakrams approach, and one was unfortunate enough to turn around at the wrong time. The Chakram richocheted off the bridge of his nose and then struck the other three in rapid succession. They all crumpled forward, falling at the feet of the astonished women.

Xena ducked an arrow that struck the soldier whose blow she had deflected. She snatched the Chakram out of the air and wheeled Argo around to face the remaining soldiers.

"Hello boys, is this any way to welcome a guest?" She flashed her wicked grin as she stared at them.

The soldiers glared back at her, with a mixture of fear and anger battling across their features. She lifted her sword and charged straight through their line. A whirling dervish of kicks, blows, and her sword glinting in the sun.

In little time, the battle had turned, the villagers taking up clubs, pitchforks, anything, and fighting back against the soldiers.

Xena had spotted the Warlord, his face red with fury, calling his troops back. He wheeled his large stallion around and took off into the forest. Xena watched him go, he wouldn't be hard to find, not with a few dozen horsetracks and footprints leading the way to their camp.

She smiled and whistled for Argo. She whipped the Chakram through the air, to finish the last few persistent soldiers. She caught it as it arced back through the air towards her. She turned and could see Atthis standing on the branch, leaning forward, but still holding on to the trunk. Argo trotted her towards the tree where they left Atthis.

When Gabrielle turned around again, Xena was already making her way back towards the center of the village, the small girl settled in front of her.

From the milling villagers, a woman's voice cried out.

"Atthis, oh by the gods! Atthis!" A woman made her way through the crowd that had gathered around Xena.

"Mommy!" Atthis cried, squirming to get down off Argo. Xena handed her down to the sobbing woman.

"Thank you. A thousand blessing on you, thank you!" The woman cried as she hugged Atthis tightly. Xena smiled and turned to look for Gabrielle.

"Stay here. I have to finish up my cleaning. If you don't get the all, they always seem to multiply." She flashed Gabrielle that brilliant smile and then "Hiyaaahed" Argo into the forest.

That was the last that Gabrielle had ever seen of Xena. She didn't return by evening, nor the next morning. By midday the following day, Gabrielle had set off towards the camp. She had spent most of the evening telling stories to Atthis, and telling her not to worry about Xena. Now, she was beginning to wish someone would tell her a story, preferably Xena, recounting how the battle in the forest had been won.

Gabrielle found the camp, and when she saw it, she knew Xena had been successful. The entire camp was destroyed, only a few dazed soldiers remained.

Gabrielle intercepted one as he was leaving the camp, his pack slung over his shoulder, his armor dirty and bloody.

"What happened here?" Gabrielle asked him.

"Xena." He said, not stopping to look at her. He was a young man, Gabrielle hoped that he would either learn the way of a true warrior or go back to his home and return to the life that he had left in pursuit of riches and glory.

"THE Xena? The Warrior Princess?" Gabrielle feigned surprise.

"Like a harpy she tore through here. We couldn't get any sort of shot at her, she was everywhere at once. The lord and his lieutenants took off, and she laughed and gave pursuit." He said, slowing down slightly.

"On foot?" Gabrielle sounded incredulous, she knew how often people wanted to tell the things they had seen, and survived.

"Naw, she whistled and this great golden beast came crashing out from the underbrush. She leapt into the air, landed on the saddle and kicked the two soldiers that were running towards her . She was gone before the soldiers even hit the ground."

Gabrielle walked a small way with him, listening to him tell his version of things. She had all the information she needed.

When they came to a fork in the road, Gabrielle excused herself and took the path that lead back towards the camp.

The young man said good bye, his momentary animation gone, and continued to trudge along the other path.

She gazed at the ground, becoming more and more frustrated. The demise of the camp had ensured that there were no discernible tracks of any kind.

Gabrielle spent the rest of the afternoon circling the parameter of the camp in an ever widening arc. She was frustrated and a little scared. She arrived back at the village, dusty, dirty and tired. She had a hard time swallowing past the lump in her throat.

'Stop it Gabrielle, Xena is fine. She is a big girl after all, and she knows how to take care of herself.' Gabrielle had never doubted her friend's abilities, until the time when Xena had been struck by Callisto's dart, and almost died, or did die, depending on how you looked at it. Except Gabrielle had been telling herself that all day, and it didn't seem to be helping.

As she came to the field at the far side of the village, she leaned on her staff. It was then that she saw Argo, grazing in the field.Chapter 5- The Whim of a God

From high up on Mount Olympus, Ares sat, chuckling to himself. It was so amusing to watch the bard's torment. Annoying little gnat. The beauty of this was well worth the wait. The anticipation was almost bursting through his chest. Soon, very soon, Xena would be battling for his glory again. Why he hadn't thought of this earlier, after his mild success with the ruse of her father, he did not know.

A bright flash of light startled him, he leapt to his feet, sword drawn.

"Put your toys away, 'brother', and I do say that sparingly, before you hurt yourself." Athena stood before him, tall and regal, smiling in amusement.

"Why Athena, most favored of our father's children, how could the rest of us have known that the headache that preceded your birth would be so appropriate for you always." Ares sneered as he sat back down.

Her small smile exploded into a radiant smile, " I did not come to bicker with you Ares, we have more than enough time for that. Admittedly, it gets tiresome to have a battle of the wits with someone so poorly armed.

"I came to ask you, what is the meaning of mounting attack against the Academy? The Forum at the Nyccian cliffs. You know they are under my protection, and I would have thought you were tired of being humiliated by me in war games. How many times can you lose to me?"

Ares smoldered under Athenas' cool gaze, he finally shrugged and said.

"They have something of mine, and I want it back."

"Do tell what the scholars could possess that would interest one such as you?" Athena smirked across at him, folding her arms across her chest.

"Just something I lost awhile ago. Ever feel like that, suddenly you remember something, and you just tear about everywhere trying to find it?" Ares said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. It was well known that Athena was a stickler for details.

"You want the scholar Tychias, don't you? Why would you want one such as her. A good tacticians mind, sound judgment, so unlike your style Ares."

"It isn't necessarily her mind that I am after." Ares leered at Athena, and then burst out laughing at his own wit.

"You are such a shallow swine Ares. She is of strong form and good grace, but..." Athena stopped, finally making the connection between the beautiful quiet scholar and...her brothers obsession? "What have you done? You cannot wage war for her, she has turned from your path, she is under my benediction, she has become a hero."

Ares snorted, "Hero, Zero, they all sound the same. She hasn't reached those heroic proportions just yet, that are still cities that quake at the name of Xena."

Athena was momentarily silenced. She was stunned at the sheer level of Ares obsession with his creation. Then she remembered that this was Ares, he of the monumental ego and proportionately small brain.

"So you see, my lovely, intellectual, peace loving sister, benefactors of heroes, champion of truth, you are not the only one with brains in the family. I for one am quite impressed with my own brilliance." This time it was his turn to fold his arms across his chest, smug and self satisfied.

Before he knew it, he was staring directly into her steely gray eyes darkening with anger.

"Harm one brick of my Forum, one hair on her head, tamper with the path chosen by the warrior and you will know once again know the stinging humiliation of being defeated by me." She whispered to him before disappearing.

Ares rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. Was it worth risking a war against Athena for her, his Warrior Princess? He could wait and see, but he knew his plan was foolproof. Not only would he have his Xena back, but he would finally defeat Athena, and humiliate was too tame of a word for what he would do with her.

Once his Warrior Princess was back, all the blood that would flow from her blade would make him strong again. Her turn against him had it's effects. The minor skirmishes the mercenaries managed to incite were entertaining at best. The power hungry warlords and others provided meager sustenance. No, Xena was different. She had burned with a fury that drove her to lay waste to everything in her path, yet saving the women and children. Her rage had fed his thirst like the sweetest of nectar. It was so pure, so unrefined. He hungered for more. She was his wrathful warrior, rage incarnate. Everything was perfect in the world, he was gaining strength, as people bowed their knees to her and consequently him. All until his do-good 1/2 brother convinced her that she could battle for the cause of good. Protect the innocent and the helpless. She had fallen for it, and the final blow was her standing up to him . She would have died rather than go back to what she had been. She actually wanted to go back and undo or at least amend all the things she had done. He had been furious, and as he watched her struggle, he interfered and incited war at every turn, always placing her in a battle. That was how his most recent loss to Athena had occurred. Defeated by her calm, collected manner in battle. Ever the strategist.

Ares knew though, that there was a fine line between himself and Athena. Just as he knew his true warrior, his Destroyer of Nations, was still there. Waiting, lurking, for the opportunity to quench her bloodlust. He had seen that old spark ignite and almost catch hold when she thought her father had returned and then been killed. Another stroke of near genius. If it hadn't been for the interference of that runt bard, Xena would have been all his again.

Ares settled back into his chair, picking up a dagger from the table beside him. He smiled as he looked at his reflection in the polished blade, running his finger along the sharp blade. Half a heart beat later, the dagger struck the map against the wall, it's point buried deep into the small building, settled by the Nyccian cliffs. The sound reverberated through the room, mingling in with the sound of Ares laughter.Chapter 6- What the Bard Found

Gabrielle continued towards the Forum. She couldn't stop the images that followed after she had found Argo from flooding back. She quickened her pace, hoping to outrun the memories that prodded and poked her.

Upon sighting Argo, Gabrielle began to smile as she rushed towards the golden mare. Argo looked up and reared slightly, then stepped back. Gabrielle dismissed the horse's behavior and thought about going to find Xena.

As she got closer, she realized that Argo was not playing, her large brown eyes were almost white, and she was acting terribly skittish. Argo tossed her head, and Gabrielle noticed the usually fine silky blond mane was matted and the saddle covered in dark stains.

She slowed down, and holding out her hand, began to speak softly to Argo. She interspersed her talk with small clucking noises, inching slowly towards the nervous horse. Argo snorted and reared again, this time kicking her front legs forward. Gabrielle stopped, and stood, with her hand out, continuing to talk to Argo. Argo had finally calmed down enough for Gabrielle to approach, she placed her hand gently on the rough velvet hide of Argos' muscled neck. As she ran her hands along the mares' side, her fingertips stumbled over nicks and scratches. Gabrielle examined the saddle closely. The dark stains mottled the well oiled leather. Gabrielle rubbed at one of the stains, when she looked down at her palm, beneath the slightly brownish shadow that the oil always left, there was a rusty red tinge.

Gabrielle swallowed hard, and then set about unbuckling the saddle. She slid the heavy saddle off Argos' back and onto the ground. The blanket beneath was stained a deeper red, and beneath that, so was Argos' back. She fell back and sat on the saddle. She stared at her hands, as if trying to divine whose blood it was. "It isn't Xena's, it isn't Xena's" she muttered to herself through clenched teeth.

"Gabrielle? Is Xena back?"

Gabrielle turned towards the sound of Atthis's voice, the young girl was running towards her and Argo.

"NO! I mean, Atthis, could you please tell the village blacksmith that I need this saddle cleaned and re-oiled? If you could run and do that, that would be great. I'm going to get Xena now." Gabrielle leapt to her feet, then regained control.

Atthis stopped in the field, confusion on her face, without a word, she turned around and began running back towards the village. Tears streamed down her face, she knew something bad would happen, she just knew it.

Gabrielle watched the figure recede, she didn't mean to sound so harsh. She was unnerved by the sight of the blood on Argo and the saddle. She turned back towards Argo,

"C'mon girl, ya gotta take me to where Xena is, one last ride, and then I will leave you here. So you can rest, hmmm? We'll all be back together before you know it...Argo?"

Argo craned her neck forward, whinnying softly and nuzzling Gabrielle on the shoulder with her soft nose.

"Thank you Argo." Gabrielle said as she climbed gingerly onto Argos's back.

Argo turned back towards the forest and trotted into the lush darkness. How long had they ridden, Gabrielle could not say, her face buried into Argo's neck to avoid the tree branches and to cry.

Argo finally stopped and neighed. Gabrielle slid off the horses back and gazed around.

Xena had been here, undoubtedly, she saw the crumpled body of the Warlord, and scattered about him were 3 men who each wore the insignia of Lieutenant. All dead.

Gabrielle searched the area, it had been quite a battle, but there was no sign of Xena.

"Is she trapped under Perseus's shield?" Gabrielle thought, her anxiety not lessening as she gazed around.

"Xena?" Gabrielle called out, her voice quickly absorbed by the forest.

She bent to examine the mulchy forest floor, here, here were Xena's tracks. She recognized the mark of the bootmaker on the left heel. Despite herself she smiled, Xena was not excessive in her spending habits, but she did always insist on particular workmanship. Gabrielle followed the tracks, they disappeared into a flurry of horse and foot prints. A little ways up, she saw the leaves tinged with blood, and muddy, much much more muddy than the rest of the clearing.

"Mud?" Gabrielle grabbed a handful of dirt and leaves, heavy and moist against her palm. She stared hard at the ground, the way she had stared at her hands back in the field, something, there had to be something she was missing. "Ah Xena, I should have paid more attention when you talked about this stuff...Who knew that one day I would have to use it to find you?"

Indents there, the outline of a body, a half moon shape, curled up? And so many footprints. Gabrielle leaned over and ran her hand along the compressed earth. She brushed against something cold and hard, she dug around a little, and then pulled up a buckle. It had broken off, and like the leaves surrounding it, dirty and rusty looking from blood. One of Xena's buckles...Simultaneously two images hit Gabrielle, one of her sitting and watching Xena tend to her armor, and then other of Xena curled up in ball, and the who- soldiers mercenaries- who? stood around and...and...Gabrielle could feel it rising, the emotions she had held in check came bursting out.

She knelt in the dirt, holding the buckle tightly, and the tears began flowing down her face, deep sobs racking her body. She felt her entire heart collapse inside her chest.***

Gabrielle felt the aching loss flare up again, even now, 5 years later. It had been too much, too many losses. She continued walking briskly, unable to see the road for the tears that returned with the same force as they had that day in the woods so long ago. Gabrielle hoped that she was finally going to see Xena again, she had imagined their reunion, first laughing and then crying. Then she would let her have it, what was the meaning of disappearing so that no one could find her? She nurtured this new image to help soothe the heart break that had been like a worm, gnawing away at her heart.Chapter 7- When dawn breaks- The Reunion

Tychias awoke before dawn, as was her habit. The cold floor a welcome reminder that she was still here. She padded across the small monastic room, only slightly larger than the ones assigned to students, and pulled out an old scholars robe that she had alternated slightly. She slipped into the frayed and comfortable garment, exited her room to the washbasins, and then out towards the cliffs in the blue gray haziness of pre-dawn.

She made her way up the trail by memory, up the gentle curves and slopes. Until she was standing, in the same spot that Daemon how found her a few days ago. She breathed the cool morning air deep into her lungs, surrounded by the sound of the ocean crashing against the craggy rocks below. She gazed out across the ever roiling waves, this was not the calmest area to sail into, but there was good fishing out in those waters. The villagers would load up their small craft and maneuver their way through the waves. She could already see shadows moving out across the water, as the sky continued to lighten.

She began her morning routine, first stretching, and arcing to touch the ground before her, and then leaning back to touch the ground behind her. She concentrated wholly on her body, her breathing, her movements. She was a vision of kinetic grace, her arms weaving intricate designs before her, lunging slowly, kicking towards the sky.

Gabrielle came over the last crest of the sloping hill and saw the graceful figure, robe flowing around and behind each movement, lit by the now rising sun. Her eyes were arrested by the fluttering luminescent figure moving against the backdrop of the cliff, and the brilliance of the sun.

Gabrielle slowed her steps, squinting against the brightness. The closer she got, the tighter her heart clenched in her chest. She was breathing short shallow breaths. Her throat constricting, the movements of the person on the cliff, superimposed against the shadow of her memories, and she knew that it was Xena. Tears welled up in her eyes, she wanted to run up and tackle her, and hug her. To feel the substance of Xena in her arms, to make sure she was real, and not another dream that she would wake from with the dew of tears already settled across her face.

Gabrielle continued her slow measured steps, past experience having taught her running up and leaping on Xena from behind was not always a prudent move. She was trying desperately to rein in the emotions that were racing through her, like wild horses stampeding. She pursed her lips together, knowing that if she parted them, and the questions, accusations, sadness, and anger would come spilling out, now that the agonizing was at an end.

Tychias continued her movements, slowing down imperceptibly. Someone was approaching, quietly. She knew it wouldn't be any of the Elders, or even the Scholars, and the students couldn't move that quietly no matter how hard they tried. Tychias took a deep breath, and turned around in one fluid motion. She found herself looking at a golden copper haired woman, lean and tired from a long journey apparently. A very long journey, as Tychias took note of the frayed and dusty clothing. The traveler was gazing at her intently, tears brimming in her soft blue eyes.

Tychias smiled, and the woman smiled back, looking as though she were about to collapse.

"Can I help you traveler?" Tychias asked the woman gently. This woman needed a meal and some rest, she could certainly provide that at the Forum.

Gabrielle stared at Xena, smiling one of those rare warm smiles, overjoyed at seeing her friend again. Just as she was about to speak, Xena's words hit Gabrielle like a blow in her gut.

"W-wh--what?" was all she could stammer out. Peering more intently at her friend, burning her gaze into Xena's own startling blues eyes. Even as the rampaging force of her emotions abruptly stopped, and her heart folded in on itself.

"You look tired and hungry traveler, come, I offer you sanctuary at the Forum, a respite from your travels." Tychias held out her hand, waiting for the woman to take it. Although the woman did look terribly confused.

Gabrielle numbly accepted the offered hand, and followed Xena down the cliff.

Tychias led them swiftly down the trail, before too long, they were entering the courtyard of the Forum.

"Good morning Scholar Tychias!"

"Beautiful dawn isn't it Tychias?"

"Back so soon?"

Several students and Scholars called out their greetings as Tychias moved through the courtyard. She nodded, and smiled at the others as she passed, laughing out loud at the last comment.

Gabrielle felt like she were drowning, but she didn't know in what. Xena? Laughing, smiling, speaking so warmly to these scholars and students as they passed and entered into a long corridor.

Tychias turned and smiled again at the traveler. "Come, I will take you to a room, there is a bath down the hall from it, if you like, and I will go and get some porridge and fruit?"

The corridors were like a maze, each interconnecting with the other. In what appeared to Gabrielle as a series of random turns down various corridors, they stopped at a door, that looked like any other door they had passed.

Gabrielle finally found her voice again. "How long have you been a Scholar?"

Tychias smiled again. "I don't actually know that I am a true scholar. I arrived here one day, they cared for me, and once I was better, they allowed me to stay. I have been a Scholar here for four years? The other year was spent recuperating and listening." Tychias laughed a little as she opened the slight wooden door.

"Were you badly hurt?" Gabrielle continued, prompting Xena with her inquiring bard's tone. Wanting to get her answers any way that she could.

"Very. They believed me to be almost dead, upon my arrival, I spent the first 5 days completely unconscious, and the following weeks drifting in and out of awareness. I would say that it was several months before I could go without fatiguing myself." Tychias stepped into the room and paused, she had never really had to tell what had happened to her, everyone always knew. It felt odd.

Gabrielle stepped into the room and looked around.

Tychias cleared her throat. "I will return shortly with your morning meal. If you are up to it, would you mind if I joined you this morning?"

Gabrielle turned her gaze to Xena. "Of course, I would like that." She smiled at Xena for the first time she had encountered her on the cliffs.

Tychias returned the smile, and the walked out into the maze of corridors.

Gabrielle sank slowly onto the thin mattress. The room was stark, with the bed, a trunk and a small desk in the farthest corner.

'What had happened? Xena as a Scholar, Xena almost dying. Xena warm, kind, almost gentle, not close lipped or guarded with every emotion.' Gabrielle was not surprised, but unprepared for this woman she met who wore the face and body of Xena.

"What do I say to her? She doesn't even know me-Hah, how could she forget me? Maybe if..."Gabrielle's' thoughts kept running into each other, with no solutions.

"On the one hand she's alive. That's a relief, on the other, she is not who she was. This may not be a bad thing, she seems content." Gabrielle spoke aloud, trying to channel her thoughts. "Content, yes, she does seem that. How often did I wish to see her free from the guilt she carried, that ate away at her like a slow burning flame? To look into her eyes and see them clear, radiant, free of the shadow that always hovered there?

"So, here she is, relaxed, comfortable, and content." Gabrielle kept meshing the Xena she knew with the woman she had just met. Maybe it isn't her? There was Princess Diana, and others along the way. They were dead ringers for Xena. Except for Tychias having no memory prior to five years ago.

"Were you speaking to anyone?" Tychias asked as she stepped into the room, holding a platter with two wooden bowls and various fruits.

Gabrielle looked up at her. "No, just thinking aloud, that's all."

Tychias settled the platter onto the wooden trunk and swung it around so that it acted as a table. She settled onto the floor, and looked across to Gabrielle.

"I find I do my best thinking without talking."

Gabrielle smiled again, "Some things never do change." She thought as she reached for the wooden bowl Xena offered to her.

When her hands felt the warmth of the bowl, and the smell of the porridge, Gabrielle realized she was ravenously hungry.

Tychias picked up her own bowl and began to stir the mealy porridge. She watched as the woman began to eat heartily, and then laughing, said. "There is always a pot on in the galley, if you need more later."

Gabrielle gulped, and then started to eat a bit more slowly.

"So traveler, what brings you this far out?" Tychias asked as she lifted the spoon to her mouth.

Gabrielle chewed slowly, what should she say? What could she say? Hi, I've been worried sick about you for the last five years, and searched all this time for you. She swallowed and spoke. "I am Gabrielle, a bard, and I am following a tale in progress."

"Ahh. Now tell me, what kind of tale would bring you out to these Nether lands?"

"Have you ever heard tales of Xena, the Warrior Princess?" Gabrielle asked cautiously, her meal forgotten.

Tychias thought for a moment, then shook her head.

"I cannot say that I have, but it's true that the only stories I know are the ones I woke up with. Mostly traditional tales, the ones that everyone knows."

"You really do not remember, not anything prior to the moment you woke up here?"

"Not one detail. As I said earlier, I was wounded, and I collapsed in the courtyard. This I know because that is what I have been told." Tychias looked down at her cooling bowl of porridge, she knew it was a bit odd, but she had come to accept her life at the Forum. There had been numerous times, especially after she awoke, but it was still to painful to move much, when she would look at the wounds healing across her body. She knew how to take care of them, that was not memory, that was something instinctual. Like the other things, her morning rituals, the taste of certain foods, and her almost preternatural sense of things around her. She looked up from her bowl, and caught the traveler, bard- Gabrielle, gazing at her intently again.

"You are here because of the Army- Will your Xena show up because there is a battle?" Tychias asked softly.

"The Army is already here?" Gabrielle was startled for a moment. That's a very good question my friend, will Xena show up because there is a battle? Or will you be slaughtered, because you are not Xena, the Warrior Princess, but Tychias, the gracious gentle Scholar?

"You know me, or rather, knew me, didn't you?" Tychias asked.

"I, I, " Gabrielle struggled for words, at least her forthright manner was consistent.

"You are either here as my friend or my enemy. I believe you are one of the former, because if you were the latter, you could have killed me on the cliff." Tychias spoke calmly, as she waited for Gabrielle to respond. One dark sculpted eyebrow arced as she waited.

Gabrielle wanted to laugh, the woman sitting across from her looked so very much like the Xena she knew at this moment. What had happened to her?

"I am your friend." Gabrielle replied.

Tychias rose from the floor, "Perhaps it is time to visit the Master Scholar and speak to him." She moved towards the door.

Gabrielle scrambled to her feet, and followed her out back into the maze of corridors. Tychias did not speak again as they made their way through the cool dark hallways.Chapter 8- How many Gods does it take?

Athena sat looking at the scrolls before here. She had to find something, to make Ares pay. Attack her Forum would he? She knew she hadn't really paying attention when the woman had arrived, but knew upon sight who she was. There were very few on Olympus that were not familiar with Ares obsession, the Warrior Princess. Athena had been furious, even though she had been watching the woman's struggle to turn away from Ares. She even witnessed the woman's refusal to him, whenever her brother went to earth, she always kept on eye out on him. Athena waited and watched the woman. Once it became clear to her that this woman did not know who she was, and how easily she adapted to scholarly life, Athena went on her way.

Except now, Ares was brewing something in that boil he called a brain. Athena smiled, she would help the bard,

Gabrielle. First things first though, she had to narrow down what could cause such a compete memory loss.Ares was enjoying a good chuckle, as he watched the two women from the heights of Olympus, walking towards the old fools room. Ares was laughing at the look of terror in "Tychias" eyes. Gabrielle could not save Xena. There was only one thing that could restore her memory, and no mortal would dare be brave enough to ask for it.

This was too wonderful, Ares could hardly contain his glee. The rivers would run red with the blood that his Warrior Princess would soon spill. Ares laughter rolled like thunder from Olympus.Athena heard the echo of Ares arrogant laughter, she grimaced at the sound. She set the scroll she was reading down, there was only one thing so far that could do what was done, and there was only one thing that might restore the woman's memory. She did have to begrudgingly admit that this was a clever scheme, especially considering that it came from Ares. She could tell the Bard about what was needed, but would good would that do? There was little time and it was quite the task. Who would gather the tears of a god?

Hermes! Of course. If there was any one who could procure this item, it was Hermes. God of thieves, and her compeer when it came to heroes. He loved a challenge. Athena smiled, even as Ares laughter was finally fading.

She knew he would arrive quickly, he always did.

Hermes stepped into Athenas foyer. "Hello Athena, what cause could you have that you would need to call upon me?" He smiled as he entered the room.

Athena walked across the room to greet him, she clasped his hand firmly in hers. "I am glad you came. I need your assistance."

"Ha! When does Athena need my help? It must be quite a challenge indeed. Obviously in need of a quick mind and quicker feet."

"Do you remember the Warrior Princess?" Athena asked as they walked towards the table.

"Ares creation. Yes, the one who," Hermes burst out laughing, "turned against him. Heroic, I do. Although not much has been seen of her, I have heard the prayers of the traveling bard many a night."

"I know where she is, and I think I know what happened."

"My thoughts are that Ares has destroyed Xena's memory. She has been living the life of a scholar at one of my Forums. At first I did not realize who it was, and by the time I had, it was obvious she did not know herself."

Hermes shook his head slightly. "How could that be? She has such a strong mind, and such strong will. She defeated Bacchus on the earthly plane by becoming Bacchae, and not succumbing to his will."

"It was not Ares will. I think he forced her to drink from the River Lethe."

"The river of oblivion? He wouldn't have dared! I escort those that are dead to it's shores." Hermes exclaimed.

"I don't know how, but I am sure that's what happened."..

"There is no way to reverse that. She will never remember who she was. It might even be a blessing, she was so tortured by the pain and destruction she caused. Now, she does not remember..."

"But there is a way, and that is why I need your help." Athena clasped Hermes by the shoulders.

"What is this thing that would reverse oblivion."

"A drink made with the tears of a God."

"Have you lost your sense of reason! What a day when Athena, Goddess of wisdom, loses her infamous reasoning skills."

"Hermes! You are the ultimate trickster. If any one among us could accomplish this, it would be you."

"Flatterer." Hermes winked at Athena, "But why go through all this trouble? If she doesn't remember anything, why not let her be?"

"I believe Ares is trying to recreate the series of events that led to the original trnasformation. Xena has lived a scholar's life for 5years. All that she knows and loves is at the Forum. Her entire identity is grounded there. Destroy the Forum, kill those she loves, again, and it is possible that the bloodlust would descend upon her, again...And Ares wills have his Warrior Princess back."

"Do you really believe that Ares came up with this all on his own?" Hermes laughed again.

"Surprising isn't it?" Athena joined in the laughter.Chapter 9- What is the Truth?

Tychias stood before Aristhemes door. Her heart was pounding so hard against her chest, her ribs were beginning to feel bruised. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

"Enter." Aristhemes voice called them in.

Tychias pushed the heavy door open and stood to one side to let Gabrielle step inside.

Gabrielle made her way into the Master Scholar's chamber.

Tychias allowed the door to swing shut, and moved to stand beside Gabrielle.

"Good morning Tychias! What brings you by so early today?" Aristhemes smiled as he stood from behind the table scattered with scrolls, maps and other items.

"I have come to introduce you to the traveler and bard that I offered our hospitality too. Her name is Gabrielle." Tychias did not look at Aristhemes, feeling the heat of embarrassment flush beneath her skin.

Aristhemes continued smiling as he turned towards the bard. If Tychias had been paying attention, she would she have noticed the slight tension that now held Gabrielle's smile in place.

"Welcome to our Forum. Tell me, what brings a bard this far out?" Aristhemes began walking towards Gabrielle.

"She knows who I am, who I was." The words had exploded from her mouth of their own accord. Tychias cleared her throat, then said, "I, I am sorry Master Scholar, for speaking so abruptly."

Aristhemes stopped before the women, Tychias had not referred to him as Master Scholar when she came to visit for many years.

"Is this true, young bard? Do you know Tychias' from before?"

Gabrielle saw the tension mounting in the room, filling the way a creekbed fills to become a river after the snow melts.

"I believe that I do." She answered simply, keeping her voice as affectless as possible.

"Tychias, do you remember anything about her? Does it rekindle any memories?"

"N, no. There is something about her that comforts me though. I believe that she did know me."

Gabrielle saw the emotions warring over Xena's face, her face caught in the morning rays, revealed it all it's pain.

"We can wait. There will be time later to talk." She said, touching Xena/Tychias, lightly on the arm.

Tychias looked at Gabrielle and gave her a small, not entirely sincere smile and said. "No, I am fine. I want to know about this now, later will not be any different." She moved between Aristhemes and Gabrielle, she had never felt this lonely in her life.

Aristhemes and Gabrielle followed the tall graceful woman to the mats that lay scattered about the floor before the hearth.

"I could not have been a horrible person, to have one such as she to care about me, even now." Tychias thought as she settled on a mat and watched the other two settle in.

Gabrielle looked at Xena, and then to the Master Scholar, now was not the time for small talk.

"Did you know who she was when she arrived?"

Aristhemes looked over at Tychias, saddened by the palatable anxiety as she strained for his reply, while sitting completely still, her face only barely hinting at her desire to know.

He turned back to Gabrielle and replied very softly.

"I did."

He felt Tychias' blue eyes piercing through him like blades of ice.

"There was very little confusion as to her identity when she arrived here."

"You never told me..." Tychias voice was so quiet, her eyes blazing at her friend and mentor. One by one, she could feel every belief she knew begin to crack and crumble away from beneath her.

"You didn't know anything. I spoke to you often, and you were completely void. You did not even recognize your own armor."

"You have her weapons and armor, and you never told her!" Gabrielle was beginning to get impatient. What madness was this? Everyone here knew who Xena was...

"You didn't even send word!!! I have traveled for five years searching for any news of her health and her whereabouts."

Aristhemes shook his head, wishing he could say something, anything, to soften the situation.

"We did not think she would live, you have no idea what state she arrived in. Bruised, broken, and bleeding. She was only recognizable by her armor and her eyes. Even then, we thought it could be one of the others that look so much like her. Perhaps caught in a situation...I agonized over what to tell her while she was recovering. I prayed, and studied scroll after scroll to find out what could have caused this. I still don't know.

"The tales of her quest, the new journey she had set upon, to try and change the world with her courage."

Tychias struggled to catch her breath, she felt like she was drowning under the sound of the voices speaking around her. She felt a gentle squeeze on her arm, and saw Gabrielle's hand resting on her forearm.

"Are you sure you don't want to wait?" Gabrielle's' voice settled through the waves to float lazily by Tychias.

"How could you not let me know!" The voice that came from Tychias as she addressed the Master Scholar was cold, distant.

Gabrielle cringed at the tone, she had heard that tone before. Xena was going to destroy a village because she believed that they had killed her father.

"Xe, Tychias, It is of no matter now. I am here, and you have no recollection of me. All the memories I hold dear don't mean a thing to you." Gabrielle squeezed Xenas' hand.

Tychias turned and glared at Gabrielle, Gabrielle held the other woman's cold blue gaze.

"Tychias, I was telling you the tales of your own life when I spoke to you of battles, and the questions of Ethos." Aristhemes spoke up.

"You have an excellent mind, and a pure heart. At your very core, you have always been as you are now."

Tychias sat, struggling to keep a semblance of calmness. Waves of emotion crashed over her, pummeling her. She did not know who she was. In a morning, everything had been taken from her, again.

Gabrielle felt for her friends pain and confusion. Despite the stillness in her body, her eyes spoke volumes. Gabrielle did not know what to do, why she had never considered this as a possibility, she did not know. Were it not for the fact that Xena no, Tychias, was in danger, could she just turn around and walk away? Leave Tychias to this peaceful life, where nightmares did not trouble her dreams? People did not spit at her feet or to her face as she walked by. No one would ever recognize her and run up to her, screaming "Murderer! Butcher!"

Maybe this was a reward and the Gods were allowing her to live her life out in peace.

Gabrielle rose, squeezing Tychia's hand as she did.

"I'll leave you and Aristhemes alone- I am sure that there is much you need to discuss. I'll be back at the room you showed me. We can talk later."

Tychias did not yet trust her voice, so she nodded her agreement.

Aristhemes could see how troubled the Bard was, and the distress in Tychias' face, he couldn't help but wonder what sort of forces were at work to break such a bond.

Gabrielle stepped outside the room and began to walk the way they had come-

"Great." She thought, "Now I'm lost."

She decided that by error or by chance she was bound to make it somewhere that she knew and kept walking. She had walked the land over for her friend, she could walk a little more.

Aristhemese looked over at Tychias.

"Forgive me Tychias, once I realized that your memory was totally gone, you deserved this chance. Was it from the Gods? I cannot say, but I never meant to harm you." He could not meet her gaze as she lifted her eyes to meet his.

Tychias gripped the table so hard her knuckles were turning white. As long as she had been, she had never known such uncertainty or felt so wholly abandoned. How could she begin to speak to this man? Whom she loved like a father, her friend and confidante for her entire perceived existence.

"You have to tell me what you know of who I was." Tychias finally choked out, the words struggling past the turmoil that roiled like Poseidon's fury in her chest.

Aristhemes wanted to loosen the fingers clamped on the table, instead he answered.

"I will tell you what I know, but you must promise to ask the bard this same question."

Tychias nodded her head, still clutching the table, for it was the only solid thing that was holding her together. If she

let go of that, she may never come back.

Gabrielle continued to twist and turn through the endless corridors, becoming more and more frustrated, if not by the maze of the same corridor, then by the rising despair she felt. She had mourned the loss of Perdicus, and held him precious in her heart, but Xena had been there, Xena had gone through Tartarus and back for her. They had become closer for the gaze they each had to take within themselves. It had helped that the other was there to offer a different reflection from what they feared they saw.

Gabrielle stopped, she wasn't in a corridor any longer. She gazed about, she was in a small chamber, one of the shrines of Athena. She started to turn around, but walked towards the small alter instead. She lit a candle on the alter, and murmured a prayer that she had learned from her time at the Bard Academy. The most referential one she knew, and asked Athena to watch and protect her friend.

She closed her eyes, and when she reopened them, everything seemed a bit blurry. She turned to go, but was stopped.

"Not yet young bard, I have heard you." A calm silky voice murmured in her ear.

Chills ran down Gabrielle's spine, even as her first thought was "Young" bard?

"I cannot stay long, nor even really materialize, Ares is watching the Forum very closely- It is easier to spot an Olympian once they 'touch' the earthly plane. The Warrior Scholar has my protection, but that does not dissuade Ares arrogance." Gabrielle jumped slightly at the clipped tone spoken in that luxurious voice.

"Xena does not know who or what she is any longer, or who she was." Gabrielle found her voice hiding beneath her ribs.

"Nor will she unless we succeed- You must tell her who she became, tell her of your love for her. I am trying to find a way to receover her memory."

Before Gabrielle could open her mouth to ask another question, she felt the air in the room settle, as though it had been holding it's breath and she knew she was alone again. She couldn't shake the chill in her spine, despite her encounters with Titans and Gods alike, she never really could get use to when they were in close proximity.

Gabrielle took a deep breath and stepped back out into the corridor, across from the small shrine she saw her staff leaning against the trunk. "I don't remember leaving the door open? Hmm. The food is gone as well." Gabrielle stepped into the room and saw the slouched figure of Tychias sitting on the floor. Her head held in her hands, that night black hair falling like silk to cover her face.

"Hello Bard, I am glad that you found your way back." The body did not move, the voice was broken, sad.

"Tychias?" Gabrielle knelt down before the scholar, gently lifting the curtain of night away from Tychias face.

The deep blue eyes that Gabrielle knew better than her own gazed back at her. Her heart ached at the tears that brimmed, magnifying the agony in those eyes. She gently cupped Tychias face and tilted it up towards her.

"My friend, my dearest companion. I am sorry. You had found your peace, and the rest of us can't let you go." Tears slipped down Gabrielle's' cheeks.

Tychias couldn't reply, the anguish in her heart flooded every fiber, pumped in to every cell. Not quite a day and her world had disappeared, or rather, she had disappeared from her world. The visions of the stories that Aristhemes told her burned into her mind. She was a monster, slaughtering innocents, the blood of nations on her hands.

"Tychias?" Gabrielle asked again, stroking that noble face.

"Tell me who I was. Tell me all." The dreaded question came from a cold dark place, Tychias could not remember speaking it.

"You were Xena, Warrior Princess, friend and loved companion. You started as my idol, and then made me your equal. Strong, courageous, brave, skillful in so many things, ingenious, and compassionate." Gabrielle smiled a bit, "Loyal, fierce, gentle, hurt, proud, defender of the weak, destroyer of evil, a champion for the greater good.

"You loved me fiercely, and saved my life more times than I can count. Risking your life time and again for not just my safety, but the safety of others. You taught me to defend myself. You taught me to be stronger, and I taught you about trust. We were family to one another, and I would not have done anything differently. I would walk the world over searching for you again. You're my best friend, you're a part of me, you're in my soul." Tears ran down both women's faces as Gabrielle hugged Tychias tightly to her.

"But I was a monster, I slaughtered hundreds, thousands. I am going to drown in that sea of blood." Tychias cried softly, her despair only slightly muffled against Gabrielle's shoulder.

"No!" Gabrielle pulled away, staring once again into those tormented eyes.

"You were a young village girl, living with your family. You had a good life, and loved your family deeply. You loved your village and felt safe within its' borders. Until it was attacked by a vicious warlord-Cortese. Your friends, your neighbors, people you had grown up with were being slaughtered before your eyes. Your village destroyed. You would not run for the hills, you were going to defend your village, save who you could. Your brother Lyceus fought by your side. He agreed with you, better to die defending what was right than turn and run into hiding. You saved the village, but it cost you the life of your brother. You saw him struck down by an archer from the retreating army. You held him as he died in your arms, and vowed to never let such a thing happen again. The loss and rage fueled you, you formed an army, and then the guilt you felt for your brother's death fueled your rage. You went and took the neighboring villages, to create a buffer between your village and the possible return of Cortese.

"At some point, you had only hatred and your desire for revenge in your heart. So you took more and more villages, until you had become a mirror image of the Warlord that destroyed your village. But even then, you never took the lives of women or children. You forbade it."

"Then I am a monster- I am drenched in the blood of lost fathers and sons, and those that could not escape." Tychias moaned to herself.

"No! Those are the stories I heard. That is not the woman I knew. I never saw you take a life out of anger. The woman I met had put her armor and weapons away, but saved my village and myself from slavers. It was the first time I had ever seen you in action...And you were in your chemise no less." Gabrielle couldn't help but smile at her first impression of the Warrior Princess.

"You realized that it was not enough to walk away from what you had done or been, but to go back and make it right, or better if you could. I traveled with you. I saw you protect innocents, heal wounded, intervene in wars, unite kingdoms, and never once turn away from what responsibility was yours to bear when you came across those that had lost everything to you.

"You never asked for forgiveness, but earned it in many cases. You were harder on yourself than your detractors. But every thank you I think you heard, and the acknowledgment that you had changed, made your step a bit lighter for a little while. I always believed in you. You were not a monster, you were all too human. You battled for and against Gods, you stood up to Ares himself. Hercules saw the heart in you, and would not give up, even as you tried to destroy him. You finally heard it, when an act of compassion turned your forces against you. The heart you had buried for so long was beating again, and you felt how painful it was. You had lost your way in the darkness but you were making your way back."

Gabrielle stopped, a bit amazed at the torrent of words that poured from her lips. But not at the content. Gabrielle began to realize after Perdicus's death just how ferociously and to what lengths Xena would go to to protect Gabrielle's innocence. She saw the struggle Xena had gone through with Callisto, bearing the burden of the deaths caused by Callistos' rage, and then letting it go.

Tychias did not know what to think. The bard, Gabrielle was so impassioned in her love and admiration for who she had been. The two images presented before her crashed against one another, pounding against her templesChapter 10-When it rains liquid sun

Athena paced furiously back and forth across her atrium. She glanced down and saw Ares army growing stronger by the hour. Her own army was on it's way, most of it already assembled. She hoped that Hermes would return before any blood was spilled.

Ares reveled in his armies bloodlust, by this time tomorrow, Xena would be back in his fold, or dead. If his Warrior Princess would not return to him, then he would destroy her once and for all. He did not think that the second option would become a necessity. From the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of Hermes flitting around Olympus. Ares chuckled as he remembered the time that Hermes stole Apollo's precious 'Oxen of the Sun.' Golden boy had deserved that one. He quickly turned his attention back to the Forum below.

Hermes raced from one haunt, estate, and field to another. Nothing! His last hope was Apollo, one of the more sensitive Gods. Hermes had thought about tears from Atlas, but wasn't sure if that constituted the same thing as tears from a God. Now as not the time to guess on the specific details.

Hermes came over the rise to Apollo's fields of the sun, where his Oxen grazed. He saw Apollo and Hyacinthus wrestling in the lush green grass. Hermes stopped, there would be no tears from Apollo today. He thought for a moment longer, there was always Hades, but he was more of a brooder. All he needed were tears, either from laughter or sorrow. His thoughts raced through his mind like quicksilver, time was running out.

An anguished scream pierced his concentration. Hermes looked down, and saw Apollo cradling Hyacinthus's body in his golden arms.

Hermes rushed down to Apollo's side. "Brother, what has happened? What is wrong?" Even as he saw the blood flowing from the wound on the side of the boy's head.

Apollo gazed up at Hermes, his golden eyes shimmering with tears.

"I killed him, I killed the beautiful Hyacinthus. I flung the discus and struck him down."

Apollo's tears began to flow like liquid gold down his cheeks.

Hermes put his arm around his older brother. Could he do this? This was his brother and his friend. It was either that or a war on Olympus. Hermes began wiping the tears away, each drop running into the other, pooling like liquid sun. Hermes held Apollo even as Apollo held Hyacinthus.

Hermes slipped the tears into the small pouch at his waist. He stayed until Apollo was less aggrieved, and watched as his brother touched the blood soaked ground. Flowers sprang up, marked with Apollo's grief, "AI AI" on each petal.

Hermes raced back and found Athena pacing in her study. Battle plans and maps scattered on the table before her.

"Tell me you have succeeded!"

"Through no skill of my own, I confess." Hermes handed the pouch over to Athena.

"This is brimming-" she said as she opened the pouch slowly.

"Apollo's tears? These are Apollo's tears- How did you come by these?" Athena gazed up at Hermes, the tears from the source of light himself?

"The Fates cut short the thread of his beloved Hyacinthus. I happened to be near."

"And Apollo, how is he?"

"He is well enough now, although- I did feel..." Hermes stopped himself.

"I know, " Athena replied softly. "There is not much time left, I must still make this drinkable for mortal consumption." Athena closed the pouch and touched Hermes lightly on the arm.Chapter 11- In the dead of the night

Tychias settled onto the floor in her room, as she prepared to meditate, she realized that she still wore the old scholar's robe from this morning. She was so exhausted, between this morning and this evening...She had listened to Gabrielle's vivid stories with rapt attention, but try as she might, she could recall nothing. Gabrielle had been so patient, answering her questions, and more concerned about Tychias than herself.

Tychias wondered what it must feel like, to see someone you trust and love so much, sitting before you, a complete stranger. No recognition for the memories that took both of you to build.

Gabrielle could not sleep, she gazed into the darkness above her. She was so exhausted, but could not put her mind at rest. Somehow, she felt personally responsible. She had not envisioned a reunion like this. Now it was she who must protect Tychias.

Tychias closed her eyes and began meditating. There would be no sleep tonight.

Aristhemes sat before the dying fire, his heart heavy with the events of the day. He had hoped this day would not come in his lifetime, and yet it did. It brought with it an army, a bard, and the look of betrayal in Tychias/Xenas eyes.

Daemon laid on his cot, his eyes wide open in the darkness. The stranger had arrived with Tychias this morning, they ate, spoke, and then disappeared into the Master Scholars' study. Then met again, and spoke through evening meal and beyond. Something was going on here, Tychias had missed all her lectures, and that had never happened in the time he had been at the Forum.

Tychias measured her breath, focusing on stillness, bringing the calm into her mind. She heard very soft footsteps moving down the hall, barely audible. They stopped outside her door and stood there. Her eyes whipped open, adjusting to the dark. She took a long slow breath. Her door began to creep open.

Gabrielle heard the steps passing her door. Heading towards where? She was just down from Tychias' room. Would Ares really try to send an assassin? She rolled off the bed and grabbed her staff from beside the bed. She slipped out after the footsteps, moving as those she were walking on clouds. She prowled after the footsteps, only catching glimpses of the tall figure passing through moon shadowed corridors. They stopped, where? Outside whose door? Gabrielle stopped as well, what if she were stalking someone on their way to a lovers dalliance. Time stood suspended, three figures poised. Gabrielle and Tychias separated by the intruder and a wall.

The door opened slowly-Tychias caught the faint shadow against the usual darkness- she did not move as the shadow approached- she saw a hand reaching out, towards her. Her right hand shot up and clamped onto a wrist, she heard a startled gasp, and caught flash of a second figure racing into the room. With a hard yank she pulled the first figure off balance and sent it tumbling onto her bed, her left hand catching the force of an on-coming blow. She wrapped her fingers around a staff? and clenched it in her grip.

"Tychias?" She heard from the bed.

"Daemon! What are you doing sneaking in here?" Tychias asked, still holding firm to the item in her hand.

"Tychias?" This time it was Gabrielle.

Tychias released the staff and rose to her full height.

"I am here, and I am safe." Tychias moved and lit a candle then turned back around.

Gabrielle and Daemon blinked at the light.

"Isn't it a bit late for visiting?" Tychias asked lightly. trying to slow down her pounding heart. How had she done that!

"Who are you?" Gabrielle turned to Daemon.

"I am Dae...Wait, who are you?" Daemon asked, staring defiantly at Gabrielle.

Tychias moved between the two,

"Daemon this is Gabrielle a bard, Gabrielle this is Daemon a student here."

The two looked suspiciously at each other, and then back towards Tychias.

"Daemon, what were you doing?" Tychias asked, trying not to be aware of their gazes on her.

"I I was concerned Scholar Tychias. I just wanted to make sure you were all right." Daemon replied haltingly, his face flushing.

"Gabrielle?"

"I heard the footsteps past my door, I grew concerned."

Tychias laughed- struck by the absurdity of it all- here stood her past ready to defend her, and her present lying crumpled on the bed. They were like two children fighting for her attentions.

Daemon smiled at the sound of Tychias's laughter, she was all right. His eyes began to close, as Morpheous pulled him quickly into sleep. He flopped sideways onto the bed, snoring softly.

"I apologize Tychias, that must have seemed out of order ..."Gabrielle said softly, turning to go.

"Gabrielle, wait." Tychias grabbed Gabrielle's' shoulder. "I may not know what to believe about who I am, but I beleive you came to my aid because you love me."

Gabrielle's heart leapt into her heart as she turned back around.

Tychias smiled, drawing Gabrielle closer.

"You were not sleeping?" She asked softly.

"Nor were you." Gabrielle replied.

Tychias wrapped her arms around Gabrielle and held her tightly. Gabrielle hugged the scholar back, listening to her heart beating against her ear.

They remained embraced in a hug for a few moments longer, then Tychias pulled back and gazed down into Gabrielle's eyes. Gabrielle amazed by the beauty of her friend in the flickering candlelight.

"Come, let us leave Daemon to his dreams. The cliffs beneath Artemis's chariot are beautiful."

Gabrielle nodded her head slowly and followed the light of Tychias candle as they stepped back out into the corridor.Chapter 12- When two tribes go to War-

Dawn was breaking over the ocean, the sky lightening and then exploding in brilliant reds and pinks across the sky.

Aristhemes pushed himself out of his chair, his body aching from the cold and the chair.

Daemon rolled over, then jolted awake. He rubbed his eyes and then glanced around the empty room. He leapt up and raced back to his own room.

Ares had awoken before dawn's light, invigorated and refreshed. He glanced down at his camp, bustling away. He snorted when his gaze traveled over to Athena's camp-it was a hotbed of activity. "Athena Athena Athena." he shook his dark maned head, "No matter how prepared your troops are, victory is mine today." He stretched and then caught sight of Xena and Gabrielle sitting at the peak of one of the cliffs, speaking intensely to one another. Ares dark eyes narrowed, that annoying little bard again. She was going to be out of the way soon, by his own hand if he had too.

Athena had heard Apollo readying his chariot to prepare his journey. It had taken all night but she was almost done. Just a few dews of morning fog and...Her fingers dipped into emptiness. She glanced over at the golden bowl. it was empty, not even a few drops left along the side.

"Hermes, I need morning fog. It is the last ingredient, it is essential, it attaches to and helps dissipate the fog that clouds her memory."

"Can't you just whip some up?" Hermes grinned over his shoulder as he raced out the door.

Athena sat the vial down and gazed out the window. Her gray eyes flicked from her army to the lightening figures of Tychias and Gabrielle talking earnestly to one another and then on to Ares semi bustling army.

"At least I know I have some time, Ares armies can never get organized enough to attack at first light."

Hermes raced back in. "Morning fog from the local market?" He laughed.

"I hope you got it on sale." Athena winked at him as she stepped back towards the table with the fog.

She poured the fog into the vial and swirled the mixture around. The golden liquid shimmered with streaks of blue and green hues with sparkles of red. She watched for the light bluish gray to weave into the mix.

"Athena!" Hermes exclaimed from the window, "Ares forces are attacking."

"How could that be?" Athena rushed to Hermes side and gazed down at the Forum. There they were, a swarm of soldiers in Ares signature black and red armor, pouring out of caves located right next to the Forum.

Athena glared down at Ares camp, those were servants! Bustling about dressed in black and red tunics, cut to look like armor.

"Oh ho ho. He is getting better, finally." She muttered as she signaled her own army to defend the Forum.

Ares laughed gleefully, oh to see the look on Athena's face right now! He had the upper hand now, his army mowing down the panicked scholars and students, and Athena's shining army thundering across the plains to reach the Forum.

Gabrielle and Tychias heard the first screams, and then the others that followed. They felt the ground beginning to tremble from the force of pounding hooves. Gabrielle was almost blinded by the brilliant wave of Athena's army as it came over the rise and poured into the valley.

Tychias had leapt up at the first scream, she caught sight of the first plume of smoke rising and began to race down the cliff. "Nooooooooo!"

Gabrielle began racing after the scholar, she had no weapons, what was she thinking?

Aristhemes heard the confusion and the screams coming from the courtyard, the Great Hall and the outer corridors. He had to get the weapons to Tychias, he opened his side door and peered into the hallway.

"Daemon!" He called out.

Daemon stopped, looking around, and then saw the Master Scholar beckoning him.

"Master Scholar, come quickly, we must get out, we are under attack." He rushed up to the old man.

"Don't worry about me, it will take them some time to get this far in. That is why the corridors are designed the way they are. You must get these to Tychias. She is at the cliffs, I'm sure." Aristhemes thrust a sword in a scabbard and a intricately ornate circle of steel.

"Master Scholar..." Daemon began to protest.

"There is no time, now GO!" Aristhemes pushed Daemon down the corridor, and closed the side door quickly.

Daemon stood for a moment, what should he do? He looked down the corridor the Master Scholar had pushed him towards, he could smell the ocean. He heard the door click shut behind him, and took off racing down the damp corridor.

Aristhemes moved to the far side of his study, his fingers dug into the stone, until he felt the slight indentations. He pressed his fingertips in and turned them to the right, the wall slid open, and Aristhemes could also hear the wall outside the huge doors sliding into place. He removed his hand and scurried down the dark steps, grasping a torch as the wall began to close shut behind him.

Tychias came over the small rise, and stood, stunned by the carnage she saw. She gazed in horror as the soldiers chased scholar and student and elder alike and hacked them down, one after another. Laughing and calling out to each other.

They were falling like sheep! Red flashed across her vision and she tore down the hill again. "NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!"

Athena glanced down, "ARES!" She held the vial up, liquid smoke swirled, a kaleidoscope of colors sparking through it.

"To the Bard! I pray it is not to late." Athena said as she raced past Hermes, one hand snatching her helmet, and the other thrusting the vial into his hand.

"She is fast!" Hermes exclaimed as he raced out of the room after her.

Gabrielle stopped behind Tychias just in time to see the bloodbath below. Bile rose in her throat at the sudden realization of Ares plan. Gabrielle swallowed it down and raced after the frantic Tychias who was flying down the trail.

Gabrielle caught sight of a figure bursting from the cliff side heading towards Tychias.

"Tychias!!!Tychias!!!" Daemon screamed hoarsely, running towards Tychias.

Tychias stopped and whirled around, a sword and a circle of steel? What was she to do with those? Even as her hands poised in anticipation of the cold touch of the weapons against her palms.

Tychias heard the whistling sound, she leapt towards Daemon, screaming at him.

"Get down, drop now!"

Daemon stopped in his tracks, before he could drop he felt a sharp piercing pain in his back. The pain flashed into his chest, and then all the air escaped, and he couldn't breathe. His eyes wide, his legs crumpled beneath him, and he fell forward.

Tychias caught him as he fell against her, "Daemon!" The arrow still quivering from his back. She snapped the arrow off, and rapidly pressed a succession of points along his body. She knew it was too late, the arrow was too deep.

He coughed blood all down the front of her scholars robe. The ruby rose spreading as the coughing continued. She knelt to the ground, cradling him in her arms. His eyes gazed at her in confusion.

"Tych, Tych, Ty" He spasmed into another bloody coughing fit, as he tried to say her name.

"Shhh, shhh. I know Daemon, I know." She stroked his curly hair back from his face, wiping the blood away from his mouth.

He gazed up at her, his eyes glowing with the adoration that always shone there. Blood flowing from his mouth, and the glow was replaced by emptiness.

Tychias bent down and hugged the young student. Rocking him gently, she passed her blood stained fingers over his eyes and shut their accusing emptiness. What has she done? So much trust in her. She clutched Daemon tighter, her heart constricting like a fist.

Another whistling sound made her look up, and she saw the arrow headed right for her. Her vision was startled by the worn wood of a staff being thrust right before her, she heard the thunk and reverberations as the arrow hit it squarely in the center.

"I'm sorry Tychias!"

Tychias looked up at Gabrielle, she set Daemon's body down gently. She rose to her feet and glared at Gabrielle. Blood soaked her robe, her eyes grew wild.Chapter 13- The prodigal warrior

"Tychias, no!" Gabrielle moved her staff into a defense position.

"Do it Tychias, kill her. She was the one who led the way." Tychias and Gabrielle both turned at the smooth low voice of Ares.

Tychias snatched up the sword from Daemons side. She turned back towards Gabrielle, snarling.

"Tychias, no, the army was here days before I got here."

Tychias swung and Gabrielle deflected the blow, barely. A huge gash appearing in her staff, splitting the wood.

Gabrielle saw the look in Tychias eyes and stepped back.

She lowered her staff, her heart breaking at the bloodlust in those startling eyes. She knelt to the ground.

"I would rather die by your hand than see you kill in the name of Ares again." Gabrielle said.

Tychias raced forward, and then stopped. Her sword held above her head.

"Don't dally, be done with her, and then you can take your revenge for the scum that shot the boy." Ares smiled charmingly at Tychias.

Tychias couldn't move, Gabrielle would not lower her eyes, she gazed up at the face she had known and loved for so long.

Ares sighed and then drew his own sword. "I would have preferred that you do it rather than me, it would have been so much more delicious." Gabrielle saw the indecision in Tychias eyes.

As Ares bought his sword down, Tychias moved to block it. "No."

Ares gazed at Tychias, "Did you say no?" He clenched his fist and backhanded her away from Gabrielle. He moved Tychias again.

"She said no Ares. What did I tell you about her being under my protection? Step back brother and let her choose her own path. If she resists you, she is free, if she is consumed by blood lust, then she is yours." Athena stood above the stunned form of Tychias.

Ares snarled at Athena then stormed back towards the Forum.

"Then the blood of your entire Forum is on her hands."

Athena glanced first at Tychias and then Gabrielle, who was walking over towards the fallen scholar.

"You heard, if she is consumed by her own fire, then we cannot interfere." Athena flashed and disappeared from the cliffside.

"What about her memory!!" Gabrielle screamed at the spot the Goddess had stood.

"I'm glad you asked Bard. She must drink this." Hermes slipped the vial into Gabrielle's hand. "Sorry for the delay, but Zeus called, it's all rank ya know." He winked and disappeared as well.

Gabrielle stared at the vial, and then down at Tychias. She walked towards Tychias.

Tychias looked up, the form coming towards her fuzzy. She tried to shake her head to clear it. Then she caught a glimpse of the vial reflecting the morning light.

"She is the enemy! She's coming to poison me." Tychias fought to clear her head and get to her feet.

"Stay away from me!"

"Tychias, this is to help you." Gabrielle paused, puzzled by the panic on the others face.

Tychias stumbled and fell back to the ground, "I'm warning you, I will gut you next time."

Tychias could not sort her thoughts, who was telling the truth? Gabrielle leapt onto the disoriented Tychias.

She popped open the vial, and forced it between Tychias lips. The sensation of the liquid filling her mouth sent Tychias into a panic, she tried to spit it out, but Gabrielle grabbed Tychias neck and lifted quickly. Her neck arced and the fluid slid down her throat. It burned her lips and froze her tongue. Her mouth stung like a thousand needles exploded, and yet her throat was completely numb.

Tychias tore at Gabrielle, and hurled her away from her. Gabrielle tumbled, rolled, and then leapt to her feet.

Tychias stood, and looked at Gabrielle, the scholars eyes were black , her pupils huge.

Gabrielle gazed at her friend, she could see the vein on Tychias neck racing like a chariot.

"What is going on." Gabrielle felt helpless before the sheer terror in her friends eyes.

Tychias turned and staggered towards where her sword had fallen.Chapter 14- When worlds collide

She was reaching down to grasp the hilt when the world exploded behind her eyes and the onslaught began. The torrent of memories flooded through the broken dam that had sealed her away from herself. Burning villages, the smell of terror and smoke and blood. Lyceus- Bodies, by the Gods, more bodies sliding off her sword. Ares! Blood to her elbows. Hercules- Gabrielle- GABRIELLE!!! Marcus- Epipheny- Barius-Solan-Perdicus-CALLISTO- Solan- Argo- Mother! Atthis- the little girl Atthis!

She stumbled, her body convulsed at the memory of the brutal ambush. The Warlord dead his lieutenants as well. Riding away, back to the village, to Gabrielle and the child. Instead a flash and furious wind. Salt in her eyes, blinded by the burn, struck from four sides, Argo rearing, kicking, her sword slashing- more blows, feeling her leg breaking beneath one blow- a rope around her neck and being pulled off of Argo, the blows still coming, no chance to recover, feeling her own blood flowing as the blows kept coming. Pounding her in to the ground. Argo's frightened whinnies, still trying to fight back to her side. Finally, tears clearing the salt from her eyes, red, swollen and burning still. Laughing mocking eyes, dead eyes looking down at her. Her head yanked back by her hair, ribs broken, arms wrenched and tied behind her back- Knife cutting into her throat- her legs throbbing, crushed between two large boots standing on each calf. And the water, water pouring into her throat, in her nose, filling up and spilling over and they did not stop. She couldn't breathe, the water just kept pouring over her face, filling her throat until she had to swallow to gasp a breathe. The water burning down into her lungs.

She screamed as she fell to her knees, dry heaves shaking her body as the two worlds of Xena and Tychias exploded into one another.

Gabrielle rushed to Tychias side, the sound of more of Athena's army thundering past them swift archers picking off the regiment racing up the hill to collect their bonus for Xena's head.

"Gabrielle?' The woman sobbed, kneeling in the grass, her hands digging into the soil.

"I'm here." Gabrielle held the shaking form.

"Gabrielle!! What have I done?"

"Xena?" Gabrielle asked tentatively.

The woman turned and looked up at Gabrielle, "Yes, and no. I remember everything, but it isn't helping." Xena laughed weakly.

Ares had watched the struggle from the Forum, he saw them battling, and then he heard that scream. The sound of it made everyone on the battlefield stop for a moment. It chilled something deep inside. Even Ares was unnerved. He saw the Bard rush over and hold the kneeling figure. "Annoying little brat!" Athena or no, Ares was going to have the head of either Xena or the Bard.

"This was Ares doing wasn't it." Xena pulled away from Gabrielle.

"Yes it was." Gabrielle crying, happy that Xena knew her, yet overwhelmed by the last five years and the last 24 hours.

Ares rushed towards Gabrielle, Xena grabbed the sword and scabbard and rolled back wards and came up with the scabbard held high over her head. Ares sword crashed against the barrier, splitting the scabbard and cracking the blade.

Xena grabbed hold of the hilt of Ares sword and swung up, kicking Ares in the face, not once, but twice.

"Did you miss me Ares? All this needless violence for me! Sometimes a card can say it better." Xena laughed as pushed off to flip away. This was not funny though, but she couldn't let Ares know her weakness right now.

Ares snatched one leg before she could flip away, he squeezed her ankle in his fist.

Xena felt the bones beginning to crack, she slammed one fist into his groin, and the other directly into his stomach.

Ares dropped her in surprise.

Xena landed with her arms outstretched, and somersaulted away from Ares, then turned to face him.

"Oh, Xena! It is so nice to have you back."

"ARES! What did I say before?" Athena stood behind Ares, her sword poised above his neck.

"Athena!" Ares spat on the ground.

He stayed bent over for a moment longer, and then thrust his sword backwards. It slid off her shield as she laughed.

"You must stop being so predictable brother dear. Maybe you could win against me once in a while then."

The sky darkened and rumbled, Athena looked up.

"I think Dad got my message, looks like he wants to have a talk with you about this latest episode and use of certain associates and other items."

Ares eyes blazed, his strong jaw clenched tightly. Gabrielle looked away, the visage of the God and Goddess of War seared into her memory.

Xena looked at Ares, her head was pounding, her ankle throbbing, but she never broke the dark raged gaze of Ares.

He finally broke the gaze to look up towards the roiling clouds. Xena looked at Athena, gazing into those gray eyes, the power and intelligence that radiated from them, she felt her breath catch in her throat.

Athena smiled her radiant smile and winked at the Warrior Princess, or maybe Warrior Scholar?

"Time to say good-bye brother-" Athena laughed as Ares snarled, and then they were both gone.

Xena leaned against Gabrielle as they watched Athena's forces drive the mercenaries that posed as Ares army back up the shore.

She glanced over at the still form of Daemon, her eyes shadowed by sadness.

"Are you going to be OK?" Gabrielle asked, one arm around Xena's waist as they began their way down the remainder of the cliff and into the courtyard.

"I'll be fine." Xena replied with a shaky laugh, her arm around Gabrielle's shoulder as she limped along. Integrating Tychias into herself was going to be interesting. Or maybe not that difficult at all.

"Gabrielle, you look thin, tired."

"Oh, that's because of this new program I've developed I call it 'Roam the countryside chasing down every Xena sighting and live off bark and berries. A frugal guide to action adventure.' Think the title's too long?"

Xena laughed, then stopped as they made their way into the courtyard. Gabrielle saw tears in the warriors eyes as she gazed at the destruction.

"This was going to take some getting used to." She thought to herself, knowing that it was Tychias who was crying for her home.

"YOU!" One of the Scholars screamed, racing towards them. Gabrielle flicked her staff out and sent him sprawling, and officially breaking it in two.

The milling students and scholars turned at the sound of his cry.

"I did not know." Xena said, a combination of the distant, 'deal with it' voice, and the softer tone of the scholar.

"The blood of these people is on your hands." He shook his fist up towards her as he spat at her feet.

Guilt, that feeling that she had been free of for five years, began to uncoil itself and wrap it's tendrils deep into her gut.

"Enough." Aristhemes came out from the cellar door. "We knew who she was, and we accepted her with Athena's blessing. She was a pawn. Our brothers and sisters are in the Elysian Fields by now, talking with the greatest of them. We will rebuild, honor our slain, and grieve them."

Gabrielle's heart skipped a beat, she knew how hard it was to move forward and keep living.

Aristhemes smiled across at the tired Warrior, still leaning on the bard in her blood soaked robe. Xena smiled back, for whatever it was worth, she knew she would always be welcome here.

Gabrielle squeezed Xena slightly, and guided her into the Great Hall. The scholar could not deny the vision of Athena defending the warrior.

Inside the Great Hall, Xena leaned on a table as Gabrielle fashioned a splint from the destroyed chairs and set about wrapping Xena's ankle tightly. Xena smiled at the sight of Gabrielle wrapping her ankle with as much concentration and focus as she had the first time Xena taught her.

"Gabrielle, why did you search for me?"

Gabrielle looked up, knowing the question couldn't possibly be real.

"Because I told Atthis you would come back and teach her how to flip the way you do. I'm not sure if she's still interested, but I know she wants to sing with you again."

Xena laughed out loud, as Gabrielle lightly tightened and then ties the wrap in place.Epilogue:

Athena gazed down at the two figures traveling down the road. She had been amazed at Xena's fortitude. She had built Daemon a pyre on the cliff, and helped to transform an shed that was mostly destroyed into another pyre. She, Gabrielle and Aristhemes had stood by Daemon's pier, the torch raised high in her hand. Below her other torches flickered, as she touched the torch to the pyre, the others mirrored her movement. Xena faced the ocean, and began to sing.

Xena had helped them plan their repairs and help them clean up in the aftermath. Her ankle healed, but Athena was not so sure about the rest. There was a certain calmness and grace that she had developed as Tychias, but Athena also knew of the dreams that startled the warrior awake, gasping for air.

News was sent of her to their friends, Argo was dispatched immediately, prancing like a colt around her.

Hermes stood beside Athena.

"There they go, just like old times I see. How long do you think they will travel?" He asked as he followed the tall figure on horseback, and the thinner one with the staff walking along side.

"Until she is comfortable in her own skin again- She and the Bard have much to rediscover about one another. Neither one is as they last remember."

"May they journey then only so far as they need to find peace." Hermes murmured.

The End

[faveficarchive]

FAMILY AFFAIR (Part 1)

by Xero

The characters of Xena, Gabrielle, Argo, et al. belong to MCA Universal. They are used without intent to profit or infringe on copyrighted material. This story is copyrighted to me. No aspect of this story may be used elsewhere without the expressed written consent of the author. This story many not be altered in any way and this copyright information must appear in this work at all times.

Warning: This story contains scenes of intimacy between two consenting adults of the same gender. If this offends you, or you are under 18 years of age, stop reading now. The author accepts no responsibility for noncompliance of this warning.

For the sake of clarity, Xenan is not much bigger than when he first appeared in "Is There A Doctor?", and this is what I think really happened to Solan. This story begins shortly after the events of "A Day in the Life"."That's it Gabrielle...yes...yes! Harder...almost...harder...again...YES!"

With one last pull, Gabrielle flung the fish on the end of her line out of the water, watching it arc over the head of Xena.

"Hey, watch it! Are you trying to hit me with that thing?"

Her eyes twinkling with more than the reflection of the sun off the surface of the river, Gabrielle smiled at her lover. "Now where would I get an idea like that? Besides, I wouldn't want to ruin our dinner by getting it caught in your armor."

"Funny," Xena drawled with arched eyebrows, as she watched Gabrielle retrieve the fish and remove the hook from its mouth. "But maybe you'd like eel instead?"

"Only if I can use your chakram to slice it open to prepare it." Noticing the small smile Xena was trying to keep from spreading into a wider grin, Gabrielle continued. "No? Then I guess I'll stick with the trout instead." After rebaiting her hook, the bard cast the line out into the middle of the stream. "How many..."

"Gabrielle," Xena whispered, trying to get the young woman's attention. Holding her left hand up, she motioned for quiet, as she set her own pole on the ground. Eyebrows furrowed in concern, the warrior concentrated on listening to the slight creeping movements she could hear coming up behind them from the dense brush of the glen. She rested her hand on her chakram, and bent her knees into a slight crouch, waiting to pounce on anyone foolish enough to attack the Warrior Princess and the Amazon Queen. Aware that the bard had also discarded her pole and picked up her staff, Xena waved her silently into a more defensive position as their 'company' continued its approach. With one last quiet rustle of leaves, the intruder strode into their camp. A young intruder, carrying a fishing pole.

"Solan?" Xena, eyes wide in surprise, dropped her hand from her chakram, and stared dumbstruck at the boy.

"Xena!" the young man shouted in happiness when he saw who he had unexpectedly bumped into, not knowing how close he had come to seeing the Warrior Princess in action again.

Regaining her composure, Xena approached her boy, and bending down on one knee, drew him into an embrace. She cradled the back of his head with her hand, and squeezed Solan tightly to her before finally releasing him. "But what are you doing here? And where's your uncle Kaleipus?"

Gabrielle tapped Xena on the shoulder and gave her a slight frown to remind her to go gently on her son. "Not that we're not happy to see you, Solan," the bard told the boy as she too gave him a hug, and then kissed him on the cheek. "But it is a surprise. Is everything all right with you and your centaur family?"

Catching Gabrielle's hand, Solan held it lightly. "Oh, sure, everything's fine. But Uncle sent me to his cousin's village so I could get to know more of my family. I've been here most of the summer."

"But why are you out here alone? It could be dangerous for you, by yourself like this." Xena tried to keep the worried concern out of her voice, but was only partially successful. "What if we had been thieves? You could have been hurt."

"Oh, Xena, I've been here lots of times to fish. You're the only ones I've ever found here. Besides," Solan explained in the bravado of one very young, or one very inexperienced, "..the centaur village isn't that far away. They know where I am."

"Well, ok," Xena replied, but she was not convinced. She stood up. "And since you're here to fish, why don't you join us for dinner? Then I'll take you back to your village. I'd like to meet your uncle's cousin."

"Sure." Shrugging his shoulders, Solan really didn't understand what the big deal was, although he was happy to spend time with the two women. With a little luck, he hoped he could get Xena to tell him more about his dad Borias. He had heard all of Uncle Kaleipus' stories, and he was sure that Xena had a few he didn't know. He was just about to ask when the smaller woman poked him in his ribs.

"Hey, Solan," Gabrielle put an arm around the young boy. "Did you know Xena can catch fish without poles or hooks? Maybe if you ask her nicely, she'll show you how to do it," she said as she winked conspiratorially at the other woman.

"Would you, Xena?" Solan's voice was filled with wonder, awe, and a bit of hero worship.

"Well...," Xena looked to the sky, as if deciding what to do. "Of course, I will, Solan. But first, let me see your hands." She took the boy's hands into her own, and pretended to inspect them closely. "Good, you have nice long fingers, just like me. And do you know why you need long fingers to fish with me?" Xena dropped to her knees again before the youngster when he shook his head 'no'. "Because you have to tickle the fish out of the water," she explained and launched into a tickle attack, getting the boy to giggle in delight when she ran her fingers over his sides.

Gasping for air, Solan threw his arms around the neck of the warrior. "Oh, Xena, I love you!"

The smile left her face and her eyes became hooded with the pain from the knowledge that she could never tell the boy he was her son. Grateful that the youngster couldn't see her expression, she hugged him fiercely to her chest. "I love you too, Solan," she said seriously. "You're a special little boy."

Hearing the note of sorrow in the other woman's voice, Gabrielle tried to lighten the mood for her hurting friend. "Hey, c'mon you two. Those fish aren't going to jump out of the water by themselves, and I'm hungry!"

Xena released her son, and leaned back to look at him. Rising to her feet, she held out her hand to Solan, grasping it lightly in her own. "Ok kiddo. One fishing lesson coming right up."

Solan smiled up at the tall woman, his clear bright eyes matching those of the warrior. "Won't Uncle be surprised when I tell him that fish can be tickled!"

Squeezing his hand, Xena looked out over the stream, not really seeing it. "Oh, I don't know, Solan. I think your Uncle Kaleipus is used to getting surprises from me." She shook her head to clear her thoughts. "C'mon. Like the woman said, those fish aren't going to jump out of the stream themselves. Let's see how we can do."

Gabrielle left her two friends alone while she went to gather wood for a fire. Returning to the camp in a short while, she dumped the branches and sticks she had found and busied herself with starting the fire, smiling to herself every time she heard Solan squeal in laughter. After the small sticks and tinder finally caught, she added a few of the larger branches to the growing flame and decided to see how the fishing lesson was going. As she sat on the bank of the stream, she watched Xena and Solan, both with their backs to her, crouched low over the surface of the water, looking for fish.

"Ok, Solan..see that fish there? It looks like it's right there, waiting to be caught. But it's a tricky fish. So you have to sneak up on it," Xena explained as she dipped her fingers into the water, "...and SURPRISE him!" Lightning quick, she grasped the trout with both hands, and jerked the wiggling fish out of the stream. With practiced ease, Xena threw the fish over her shoulder. It landed on the riverbank, not far from Gabrielle. "Solan, I think you have your dinner right in front of you."

The boy glanced down, and saw a particularly large trout motionless in the shallow water, almost teasing him with its close proximity. Dipping his hands into the stream as he had seen Xena do, Solan carefully moved forward silently, trying not to alert the fish to his presence. Wriggling his fingers near the sides of the fish, he lunged forward and grabbed it, bringing it out of the water to show Xena triumphantly. And just as nonchalantly, he threw the fish over his shoulder as he had noticed the warrior gracefully do.

"Hey!"

Both turned around at the sound of Gabrielle's voce, to find her holding the wiggling fish, her face and upper chest wet with water.

"Oh, Gabrielle! I am so sorry! I didn't mean to do that!" Solan clambered out of the water, and knelt in front of the smaller woman. "You're not mad at me, are you?"

"No, Solan," Gabrielle answered him, although over his shoulder she could see Xena shaking with laughter. "I'm not mad at you. Why don't you pick up the fish, and meet us back at the fire?"

After Solan headed back towards camp, Xena waded out of the shallow stream and approached Gabrielle, still trying to stop laughing.

"I suppose you think that was funny," the younger woman said while flicking fish scales at the warrior, trying her best to glower. Finally laughing herself, Gabrielle shook her head. "Like mother, like son."

Xena glanced in the direction Solan had gone. "Yeah," she said, with unmistakable pride in her voice. Her broad smile clearly showed her love and admiration for her boy.

Remembering that she should be getting dinner ready, the warrior reached down and helped Gabrielle to her feet. She snaked her arm around the woman's waist, and lightly brushed her lips across the bard's, teasing and darting her tongue into that of her lover. "Mad at me for laughing?"

"Hmm, I'd have to say 'yes'," Gabrielle grinned.

Bending down again, Xena playfully tugged on the woman's lower lip, her tongue once more gaining access to taste her partner's sweetness. "And now?"

"I'm afraid so," the bard whispered as Xena grasped her more firmly, drawing her into the warrior's body.

"I guess I'll have to try harder to convince you to forgive me," Xena breathed, leaving delicate kisses and small nips along the graceful column of the blonde's throat, before moving back to her mouth. As her hands roamed over the bard's back, she crushed the smaller woman to her as her tongue twisted and twirled in a sensual dance with Gabrielle's, leaving them both breathless with desire. At last pulling away, Xena took a steadying breath and locked her eyes onto the bard's. "Let me show you tonight just how sorry I am."

"Promise?"

"Oh, I promise," Xena said as she left one last kiss on the bruised lips of Gabrielle. "And you know I never break my promises."

"Thank the gods." Gabrielle grabbed the warrior's hand, and smiling, led the taller woman back to their camp.

They both noticed right away that Solan had been busy. He had found one of their knives, and after splitting the fish to remove the bones, had placed the tender meat into a frying pan. He smiled when he saw Xena nod her head in approval of his accomplishment.

"It seems you've learned a lot since I last saw you, Solan. You really are becoming a young man," Xena praised the boy.

"My cousins keep me busy, and teach me lots of different things. Uncle Kaleipus says it's good to learn something new from everyone I meet."

"And what else have you learned, Solan?," Gabrielle asked as she splashed some wine from their supplies into the frying pan to keep the fish moist as it cooked slowly over the fire. This was one of Xena's favorite dishes, and she wanted to make sure nothing got scorched while she listened to the youngster tell them about the centaurs.

"Well, most of the boys my age in the village already know how to use a crossbow. They've been showing me how to shoot."

Xena's brows knitted in concern. "I thought both you and your uncle decided you didn't want to be a warrior. Did you change your mind?" The woman hoped her son didn't hear the anxiety in her voice.

"Oh, no, Xena! They've been teaching me how to hunt game!"

The dark haired woman nodded in understanding, although she thought the boy was still a little too young to be taught how to use weapons, even if it was only to find dinner. The conversation died down as Gabrielle handed each of them a portion of fish and some biscuits that had been left over from the morning meal. Solan was the first to take a bite, and declare the meal excellent. Xena smiled at the comment, knowing that the recommendation was greatly enhanced by the fact that he himself had caught the fish. Still, she couldn't help agreeing that the food was indeed excellent.

Gabrielle munched on a biscuit, and smiled when everytime Solan's plate got anywhere near empty, Xena jumped up and got him more to eat. The boy had eaten three of the fish and a few of the biscuits when he reached for the backpack he had brought, and pulled out a handful of berries to share, and another surprise.

"Oh, nutbread! My favorite!" Gabrielle's eyes lit up when she spotted the dessert.

"Really? Mine, too," Solan said as he passed her the bread, after breaking off a hunk for himself. He bit off a large piece and smiled at Xena when he saw her shaking her head.

"I don't know how you two can even think of more to eat after what you finished for dinner. Did you guys have a competition going on to see who would eat more?"

"Nope. No one can beat Gabrielle." Solan bit into the bread again.

Catching her lover's eye, Xena winked at her. "That's for sure." Getting up, the warrior picked up Argo's saddle and put it on the war-horse. After she adjusted the straps, Xena turned to her son. "Well, Solan, I think it's time we get you back to the village. I don't want anyone getting worried about you. Coming, Gabrielle?"

"No, I think I'll just get things cleared up around here. You two have fun." Although it wouldn't take long to do the few chores, the bard wanted to give her friend all the time alone with her son that she could. "Just 'promise' you'll come right back," she insisted, stressing 'promise' to make sure Xena understood.

"Oh, I promise, Gabrielle. I promise." Jumping up into the saddle, Xena waited while Solan stood up, and wiping his now clammy hands on his pants, approached Gabrielle.

Suddenly shy, Solan wouldn't raise his head to meet Gabrielle's gaze. Fortunately, the bard was not as timid and bent down and hugged the boy. "Good-bye Solan. You take care."

Finding the strength to return the hug, Solan nodded. "Bye, Gabrielle." Squeezing a little harder, he whispered, "I love you."

Gabrielle kissed the boy on the forehead and whispered back, "I love you too, little guy." She grabbed his hand, and led him over to Argo. Grasping him under his arms, the blonde easily lifted the boy into Xena's embrace. Solan settled himself in front of the warrior, and then leaned against the woman behind him. Xena held the reins in front of him, crossing her arms over the boy's chest. Seeing the shifting emotions covering Xena's face, Gabrielle touched the woman's knee. "You be careful."

Nodding mutely, Xena nudged the horse forward.

-------

A friendly silence grew between the warrior and the boy as Argo slowly made her way along an over-grown trail. The setting of the sun brought a chill to the air, and Xena wrapped her arms tighter around Solan, and drew him further into her comforting embrace.

"Why don't you tell me more about the centaurs you're visiting, Solan? This must be a new camp for them. They weren't here last year when I passed through the area."

"No,they haven't been here long. Lorent and the others..."

"Lorent?" Xena stiffened slightly at the sound of the name. She knew a centaur by that name, but it was so long ago...

"Sure. He's Uncle Kaleipus' cousin. Big, strong, red hair. And you should hear him laugh! You can hear him in every part of the village!"

Xena closed her eyes briefly as old memories flooded her thoughts. She knew the centaur, but back then he had not been known for his laughter. She and her army had practically destroyed his whole nation. It was before Borias had joined up with her, and it was her first attempt to capture the Ixian stone. Acting upon a rumor that Lorent and his centaurs had the stone, Xena and her men had set a trap for the half-beasts. When Lorent insisted that he did not have the gem, Xena's rage had erupted with deadly force. So many had died in that senseless battle, before the remaining centaurs had managed to drive back her warriors. Even after losing much of her army, the warlord that Xena used to be had still been determined to find that stone. Now she was thankful she never had.

Solan felt Xena's arms tighten slightly in tension around him. "Xena?"

"Stop where you are," a deep voice rumbled.

Lost in her thoughts, Xena had relaxed her guard while letting Argo carry them to the village. She looked up at the familiar voice to find a red haired centaur and five companions holding loaded crossbows, all aimed at her.

"Set the boy down, barbarian. I won't let you hurt him." The other centaurs surrounded Xena, boxing her in and cutting off any chance of escape.

The crossbows never wavered as Xena easily lifted the boy from the horse, and lowered him to the ground where he was quickly moved to Lorent�s side by a young centaur. She knew she could probably fight her way out of this situation, but these people were now part of Solan's family. She didn't want her son to have to take sides if there was a fight, and she needed to be sure that he was safe. She kept her hands in clear view and away from her weapons, resting them lightly on the pommel of the saddle.

"But, Lorent! This is Xena, my friend..."

"Xena, Destroyer of Nations, has no friends, Solan. Just be grateful she didn't succeed in kidnapping you, or hurting you." The big centaur lowered his crossbow briefly so he could push the boy behind him, and act like a shield for the child. He then nodded knowingly to the centaur behind the woman.

"Lorent, let me...," was all Xena got to say before the butt of a crossbow hit her on the back of her head. She slumped forward onto Argo's neck, somehow managing to still have the saddlehorn in her grasp.

"Xena!" Solan shouted, and rushed to the horse's side to keep the warrior from falling off. Turning fearful eyes to the big centaur, he whispered, "Why?" The boy felt like his whole world had turned upside down in the last few moments, and his heart beat painfully in his chest when he heard Lorent's answer.

"She has to pay for her crimes. And she has a lot of debt to be answered for."

"Lorent," the boy tried. "She wasn't kidnapping me. She was bringing me home to you. Please don't hurt her, she's my friend!" Solan didn't know what he could do to convince him that the warrior wasn't dangerous. His thoughts whirled between trying to figure a way to get the big centaur to let Xena go, and berating himself in not telling her that Lorent was the lead centaur of the village he was visiting. Solan remembered all too well how both he and his Uncle Kaleipus had reacted when they ran into Xena and the bard the previous year. They had both been suspicious of them; he should have known that Lorent would feel the same way. "Please, Lorent. She was just passing through. If you let her go, she'll probably just leave and never come back." The boy glanced up his friend when he heard a low groan from the woman. She still hadn't moved even though Argo was restlessly stamping her feet.

"Solan," Lorent gently called to the young boy. Holding out his hand, he gestured to Solan to take it. When the boy did, he held it firmly in his grasp and leaned down a bit lower so he could be on eye level with the youngster. "Solan, I can see you care for...this woman. How she convinced you that she is harmless, I don't know. She is the most formidable warrior I have ever had to face. Once we get rid of her, no village will ever have to fear an attack from the Destroyer of Nations again."

The boy wrenched his hand away from the red centaur. "No! She's not like that! She helped me..."

"That's enough, Solan! Now you can either climb on my back and ride to our village, or you can walk...which do you want to do?"

Xena groaned again, and shifted in the saddle. The boy tried to rush to her side, only to find that a large hand held him back. "Solan, get on my back, and don't make me lose my temper!" Lorent turned to the centaur at Xena's back, shaking slightly as he tried to control his anger. "Terek, tie the woman to the horse, and make sure she doesn't come around. I want her safe and secure in a cell before she wakes up."

Nodding in understanding, Terek took some ropes that he found in Xena's saddlebags, and tied the warrior's hands around the neck of the horse, and then bound her legs together, wrapping the extra lengths of rope around the light colored mare. The young centaur then ran his fingers through Xena's hair, at last finding a large sized bump with a dark bruise beginning to form. Still unsatisfied, he moved up to look into the woman's face. Raising one of her eyelids and getting no response from the silent prisoner, he continued to poke and prod the warrior, constantly checking to see if he could get any reaction or movement out of her. At last satisfied that she wasn't faking her unconsciousness, Terek again nodded to Lorent. "We're all set. I think you should take this horse's lead, and I'll follow behind. I want to keep a close eye on this one."

Lorent grabbed Argo's reins, and jerked the horse forward. The remaining four centaurs surrounded the group, still keeping their crossbows at the ready and aimed at the slumped form on the mare. Terek fell into step behind, constantly on the alert from any movement from Xena, or any unexpected action from the nearby trees. Although Solan hadn't said anything, Terek was sure that the woman was not our here alone. She had to have her army camped somewhere, even though his keen hearing hadn't picked up any unusual noises. The young centaur divided his attention between the glade and the prisoner, never dropping his guard.

Solan remained silent as he held onto Lorent's shoulders. He kept looking back at Xena, hoping for some change in the woman, but she had even stopped groaning, and simply hung lifelessly on Argo's back. The boy blamed himself again and again for letting the capture happen. His stomach was in knots with worry about what Lorent planned to do to his friend. He had only seen the cells where the centaurs kept their prisoners once. All he could remember was that they were cold, damp, and extremely dark. Blinking back tears, he clutched unconsciously at his cousin's arms. He knew he couldn't get Xena out by himself, and the only person he knew that would help was Gabrielle.

The ride into the village was silent as each of the centaurs carried out his duties. Even though the warrior had not moved since being tied to her horse, each of the armed guards kept their attention on the woman. They all knew how treacherous and devious the Destroyer of Nations could be. Terek was the most observant of all, knowing that he would be watching over the prisoner until he would hand her over to the prison guards. He almost wished that Xena would move, so he could have the satisfaction of clubbing her again.

Rounding a bend in the trail, a shout went out as Lorent's group was spotted by a sentry. Word quickly spread that their leader had captured the warrior princess, so when they finally reached the village, all the centaurs were in the main square, eager to catch a glimpse of their enemy. Several held large rocks in their hands, ready to throw them at the motionless woman when Lorent held up his hand.

"Wait! No one is to hit the woman until after the trial!" the red haired centaur shouted.

Laughter, jeers, and curses directed towards Xena followed Lorent's command. Not even one centaur had any doubt about what the outcome of the trial would be. Bets were taken on how long the hearing would be, and several jailers were receiving bribes from over eager centaurs willing to do prison work for the next week or so. Only Lorent noticed when Solan dropped to the ground, and approached the warrior princess, brushing the hair off her face.

"Solan! Stay away from her! She may come around at any moment, and I don't trust her!"

The boy stepped away from Argo. He planned to get to Gabrielle as soon as he was able to sneak away, and getting Lorent mad at him would only make things more difficult. Xena still hadn't moved since Terek knocked her out, and Solan was starting to worry that she was hurt more badly than he thought. All he could tell was that she was still breathing; he wished that she would at least open her eyes so he could let her know he was going to help her.

Terek approached the warrior cautiously, first untying her hands from around the mare's neck, and then retying them more securely behind her back. Slipping the bindings from her legs, the young centaur gave a quick jerk, and the bound woman fell from her horse, landing in a boneless heap face down in the dirt.

Solan winced when he heard the woman moan at this new source of pain, but at the same time he was hopeful that this meant she was regaining consciousness. He slowly backed away from Xena and the others, when Lorent called his name.

"Solan, take her horse and put it in the stables. We'll decide what to do with it later."

The youngster approached the big warhorse and hesitantly took the reins. Argo was a little nervous around all the strange people, and she didn't like it that Xena had laid oddly on her, or hadn't given her any commands as they walked to the village. But the boy was familiar, and the horse nickered as her nose was scratched by little fingers. She followed Solan into a stable, and made herself at home by quickly finding some sweet hay to eat.

The boy removed the saddle, and brushed down the horse. After Argo had a satisfying drink of water, Solan led her to a stall and closed the gate door after them. Scratching the mare's nose again, the youngster leaned his forehead against the warm neck, and then threw his arms around the sturdy horse, letting a sob escape. He knew he had to get to Gabrielle, and tell her what happened, but what could the two of them do against Lorent, Terek, and the others? Everyone seemed so happy that Xena was captured, they just weren't going to let her go because he wanted them to. Sniffing back his tears, Solan wiped at his eyes with the heels of his hands, and then ran his fingers through his hair. After patting Argo one more time, Solan let himself out of the stall. "I won't be long, Argo. You get some rest now, and be ready when I get back."

When Solan left the stable, the crowd had already gathered around the jail. There was a line in the dirt, marking the trail Xena had left when one of the centaurs dragged her along the rough ground towards the stone building that contained the prison cells. Winding his way through the rowdy crowd, the boy was able to find a way to the front of the group.

Xena looked worse than before; her legs were scratched and bleeding from being scraped along the cobblestone square of the centaur village, and Solan noticed that she now had a black eye that was already beginning to swell closed. Even though Lorent had ordered that no one should hit the woman until after she was found guilty, it seemed he didn't mind if a few bruises appeared, as long as he didn't see it happen.

The centaur mob followed as Terek grabbed hold of the bindings at Xena's wrists, not caring to see how deeply the tightly wound ropes bit into her skin. He dragged her along the muddy corridor of the prison, at last shoving her unceremoniously into a holding cell. As she fell limply onto the packed dirt, those centaurs who could see what was going on cheered their approval. Solan wrapped his fingers around the bars of the cell, hating what he was seeing, yet unable to stop watching. A centaur he didn't know clapped him on his back.

"This is your lucky day, lad. No one before has been able to capture the Warrior Princess. Justice will be done!" Mistaking the reason for the look of fear in Solan's eyes, the burly centaur consoled, "Don't worry, son. She can't escape. Just you wait."

Solan tore his eyes away from his neighbor to see that Terek was removing Xena's boots, arm braces, and leathers. Leaving the woman in only her black shift, the cautious jailer searched for more weapons. Satisfied that she didn't have anything else concealed on her body, he dragged her to the back of the holding cell, and propped her up against the wet wall. The young centaur quickly untied the warrior's hands, and then attached shackles to both wrists, bringing her arms up over her head, and attaching the irons to a ring imbedded in the rock structure. From this position, Xena could either stand or sit, but it was far from a comfortable position.

Terek leaned down and grasped Xena's chin in his hand. Turning her face from side to side, he shook his head in disgust. "So this is the mighty 'Destroyer of Nations'," he mocked, and then viciously slapped her face. Hearing the roar from the crowd behind him, Terek turned around and threw his clenched fists above his head. The cheering grew louder as those in front could see a trickle of blood winding down Xena's chin.

Solan slipped away from the crowd, feeling close to tears again. He was fairly sure that Lorent and the others would be too busy gloating over the prisoner's capture to notice that he had gone. He found the rail that led to the stream, and as soon as he was out of sight of the village, he broke into a run, pumping his legs as fast as he could to reach Gabrielle.

---

Gabrielle had finished all the camp chores, cleaning up after dinner, gathering enough firewood for the night, and had just repaired a rip in Xena's sleeping shift when she decided to practice with her staff. Even though it was getting late and Xena hadn't returned yet, the bard wasn't concerned. They rarely got to see Solan, so she was happy that her friend could spend some time with her son. She was probably just getting to know the boy's family in this centaur village, and checking that everything with the youngster was ok. Closing her eyes, she relaxed her breathing rhythm and began a warm up kata with her staff, when she heard a loud crashing sound advancing towards her from the trail. Her eyes flew open; she knew instinctively it wasn't Argo, but it was someone or something coming her way. She backed away slowly from the trail's end, twirling her weapon in defensive patterns, waiting to see who the visitor might be. For the second time that day, she was surprised that it was Solan.

The boy burst into the camp, and staggered to a halt before the blonde. Bent at the waist, Solan rested his hands on his knees, and took great gulps of air trying to stop his heaving chest. Gabrielle reached for her water bag and wordlessly handed it to the young boy. "Solan, where's Xena? Why are you here without her?" The bard tried to keep the panic out of her voice, but she was sure that he could hear it.

After taking a long pull of the water, Solan sank to the ground and sat back on his heels. Still breathing heavily, he looked at Gabrielle quickly, but couldn't keep eye contact with her. Closing his blue eyes, he felt tears seep out from the closed lids. "It's all my fault!"

The woman knelt in front of the youngster, and held both his hands in hers. "Tell me, Solan. Tell me."

Still crying silently, Solan whispered, "It's my family. Lorent. My cousin. He...he captured her. And Terek...he hit her. They tied her up and threw her in a cell. Everyone's calling her 'Destroyer of Nations'. Terek knocked her out, and I didn't know what to do." A wordless sob escaped the boy's throat. "They're going to kill her."

When Gabrielle heard Solan's words, she unconsciously clenched his hands in hers as she closed her eyes in pain. Her heart beat wildly against her ribs in fear and panic. How was she going to go up against an entire village that wanted revenge on someone who no longer existed? Opening her eyes, she drew Solan into an embrace. "Honey, it's not your fault," she said as she wiped the tears from his face. "It's no one's fault. But we have to get her out of there. Take me to the village."

---

"Gabrielle, you're not going to let them...hurt her anymore, are you?" Solan's blue eyes, so much like Xena's, stared at the blonde.

The bard got to her feet and helped the boy up. "Solan, we're going to do everything we can to save her. Now come on, I need your help right now. You know the layout of the village. Tell me everything you can." She held the boy's hand in her own as they threaded their way back down the trail to the centaur village.

Solan had stopped crying, but the lump in his throat would not go away. He took a steadying breath, and answered his friend. "Well, they have Xena locked in a cell. I put Argo in the stable, and took off her saddle. Most of the centaurs were at the jail when I left. I guess they wanted to see Xena for themselves."

"And what does the jail look like? Are there lots of guards around?"

The boy shook his head. Starting to cry again, he could hardly answer Gabrielle's question. "I don't know...I don't know! Why did this have to happen? Xena was only trying to take me home...they didn't have to hit her...they didn't..." Solan felt the lump in his throat grow until his chest hurt from all the pent up emotions he was trying to keep inside. He shook his head, hoping that the images he kept seeing of Xena would change, and that she would be all right. But he couldn't forget the last sight he had of her, bloodied and chained to the wall of the cramped cell. He felt helpless that he couldn't stop what had happened, and that Lorent wouldn't listen to him.

"Honey," Gabrielle knelt down and cradled the blond head to her chest. "I know it's hard. But believe me when I tell you that there was nothing you could have done to stop what your friends were doing. But that doesn't mean we are going to give up." The bard caressed the boy's back, helping him to calm down. When she heard him breathing easier, she leaned back and looked Solan in the eye. "I can count on you to help me, right?"

The youngster nodded silently, and then pulled on Gabrielle's hand. "The cells...they're cold, because they're built into a hill. Maybe we can get to Xena from the back of the jail."

Gabrielle ruffled the boy's hair. "That's a start, and a good one. Now come on, and show me how to get there."

The lump in Solan's chest shrunk just a little. Maybe they could get Xena out of the village.

Lorent strode into the common area of the jail, waiting for Terek to join him. They were the only centaurs in the building, the leader having sent the crowd away so he and Terek could deal with Xena. The prisoner had yet to wake up, and he had sent his friend into the holding cell to see if the woman was faking her condition. Although having an unconscious Xena was safer than an active one, he missed having an opportunity to work the woman over. He wanted her awake so he could hear her cries of pain. The centaur leader planned to bring a weakened and defeated warlord to trial, and the pleasure of being the one to bring her to that level made his heart beat fast in anticipation. Hearing a noise behind him, Lorent turned to see Terek enter the room. "Well?"

"She's still out, but I don't think for too much longer, She's reacting to pain more strongly now."

"Well, don't get too carried away, Terek. I need you to be her watcher for when she does decide to join us. I have some plans for her."

Terek's eyes lit up with excitement. Although he was too young to have actually fought Xena in battle, the tales had been told and retold to him. His hatred for the "Destroyer of Nations" burned as hot as with any of the other centaurs. He took great pride in knowing that the centaur leader was choosing him to carry out his wishes, and Terek didn't want to disappoint his friend and mentor. "And what would those plans be?"

The leader answered carefully. "Nothing too physical, she needs to be able to respond at the trial." Noting the look of disappointment on the jailer's face, he hastened to add, "But I do want her 'beaten down' into submission. We'll break her spirit, and then we'll break her."

The young centaur nodded in agreement, a smile spreading across his face.

---

The moon was long past its rise when Gabrielle and Solan entered the village. There were torches burning at the jail, and at a hut that the boy told Gabrielle was Lorent's. Moving quietly, the two friends made their way around the buildings, at last coming to the rise that marked one side of the jail. There were a few small windows at ground level, all of them encased with heavy bars. No lights burned in any of the cells, and Solan was unsure if there were other prisoners being held in the rooms. Walking silently, he at last stopped before one window that he thought was the cell that Xena was in.

"Gabrielle, it's too dark to see, but I think this is it. They chained her to the back wall, and left her there. I hope she's all right..." Solan stopped whispering when he heard a familiar voice. Listening carefully, he could hear his cousin Lorent talking to someone, but he couldn't make out the words. He lowered his voice more, and quickly told the bard that the centaur leader was nearby. Gabrielle nodded, and absently brushed a stray lock of hair off his face.

"Thank you, Solan. Now I want you to do me a favor. Go back to Lorent's house..."

"Why?" the boy gasped between clenched teeth. "I want to help!"

"Honey, I have to talk to Xena, but I'll come and get you when I'm done. And what would happen when Lorent gets home, and doesn't find you there? I promise I'll meet you at your home after I see how Xena is. Please?"

Solan didn't look happy, but he finally agreed to do what Gabrielle wanted; he hadn't thought about what would happen if Lorent didn't find him at home, in bed, asleep. Reluctantly, he slipped away from the jail, after first pointing out again Lorent's house to the bard. The boy knew he wouldn't be able to sleep, but somehow he would convince Lorent that he was. And then he could get back to helping both of his friends to get out of this village. He entered his home quietly, relieved to find that it was empty, and that Lorent hadn't been there recently to check on him. Not bothering to take off his clothes, he pulled back the blanket on the pallet, and turned on his side to face the wall, hoping that Lorent wouldn't look too closely at the 'sleeping' boy.

Gabrielle watched Solan's shadow creep across the square and then enter the lit hut. Turning back around from the corner of the jail, she again found the window that the boy thought was Xena's cell. The bard laid down on the grass, and inched up to the window. She reached inside the cell, searching by feel for shackles as she whispered, "Xena?" Her hand at last felt fingers, stiff with cold and unmoving. Again she called her lover's name, and this time heard a moan in response. "Xena, please...can you hear me?" The blonde wrapped her hand around the motionless fingers, hoping to warm at least that part of the warrior's body. Trying to keep panic out of her voice, she again breathed her lover's name. "Xena...?"

"Gab...rielle?"

"Xena, yes, you can hear me! How...how are you?" Gabrielle continued to clasp and wiggle her hand around Xena's fingers, but got no physical response from the woman.

"Gabrielle...I want you to...find Solan and ...leave."

"Leave? Xena, no, we're going to get you out of here. What are you saying? I can't..."

"Gab...rielle. Please. I don't want either...of you to see what...is going to happen."

"Xena..."

"Please. Take my son...home."

Gabrielle felt Xena curl her fingers into a loose fist, effectively removing her fingers from the bard's grasp. The blonde closed her eyes in pain at the physical dismissal, and pulled away from the cell window. Standing up, she leaned against the wall of the building before moving away to find Solan, ready to leave the Warrior Princess in the cold darkness. However, a sound from Xena's cell caught her attention. Creeping back against the wall, Gabrielle returned to the window to hear what was happening. She heard a door creek open slowly, and a little bit of light fell into the room, but the warrior was still well hidden in the darkness of the rear cell wall.

Terek pushed open the large wooden door to the prisoner's cell, and at once noticed that the woman's electric blue eyes were focused on him. Despite the dimness of the room, the young centaur could feel the warrior's dangerous presence. He was glad that she was still safely chained, and even though she was bruised and bloodied, he could read the intelligence and strength in her face. This one would be hard to break, but he had a few ideas. "Lorent!" the centaur shouted. "Our company is awake!"

Gabrielle sensed more movement, and then heard the lead centaur speak.

"Excellent. Terek, move her to the secure room."

This was a test for the young centaur. It was only Lorent, him, and Xena in the prison, and Lorent would expect him to move the Destroyer of Nations by himself. Swallowing down his apprehension, Terek approached the woman, and with what he hoped were steady hands, unlocked the shackles from the wall. He jerked the chain roughly when Xena remained seated on the cold ground. "Prisoner, come with me!" he growled, and jerked again on the heavy chains as the woman rose to her feet, to tower above the small centaur. Terek looked up into the blue eyes, one of which was only partially open from her earlier encounters with his brothers, and began to feel more than a little afraid of the silent warrior. He knew without a doubt that he was out-classed by the woman, and yet she was letting him order her around. "Come with me," he repeated, but this time without the usual tug on the shackles.

Xena walked into the middle of the room, the cold light from the corridor hitting her in the face. She stopped, and blocking the window with her body from the view of both Terek and Lorent, she turned towards it, knowing that Gabrielle would be there.

As the bard listened to the voices of Terek and Lorent, she crouched by the window, hearing every word. Hoping that the centaurs would have their full attention on her lover, Gabrielle dared to peek into the window. She saw Xena turning towards the window; she saw the bruises, the cuts, the swollen eye, and she saw one more thing. Xena looked directly at the blonde and mouthed the word, "Go," just before she faced the centaurs and then was led from the cell.

The bard sagged against the outer wall of the jail. She felt helpless and useless, since it seemed that Xena was ready to give in to anything the centaurs wanted. Her heart beat painfully when she realized that her woman knew what the centaurs had planned for her, and was deliberately sending her family...Solan, and she, herself, Gabrielle, away. 'I can't...I can't let her do this...sacrifice herself...for what? Protection for me and Solan? Doesn't she know that without her...I would be lost? Oh, Xena,' Gabrielle thought, 'I can't do what you want me to do. I love you too much. And so does Solan.'

Gabrielle moved along the side of the jail, keeping to the shadows. She didn't know how long Terek and Lorent would stay with Xena, and she wanted to see how Solan was doing. Crossing the square as quickly and quietly as possible, the bard approached the house that still had one torch glowing softly from within. She looked into the first window she came to, and saw a small bundle curled on a pallet. Not wanting to startle the child, she whispered his name.

The boy popped his head up immediately. Although his hair was tousled, it was plain that he had not been sleeping. In fact, Gabrielle noticed that he still had his clothes on, even seeing that his boots were tucked under the covers. "Gabrielle?"

"Sweetie, I'm going to go to the stable and get Argo, and then I'm going to leave her part way down the trail to our camp. After your cousin comes back home, and you're sure he's asleep, meet me on the trail. We're leaving..."

"I'm not leaving Xena! She's my friend! I'm going to talk to Lorent, tell him that..."

"Solan..." Gabrielle wished she could reach through the wall and hug the child. "They've locked Xena in another part of the jail. We have to go. We're going to your home, to Uncle Kaleipus. He'll help us..."

"I can't leave her! Who will protect her from Terek and the others? I can't go!"

"Honey, this is what Xena wants." Gabrielle didn't know if she softened the lie for Solan, or for herself. "Please. Your uncle needs to know what's going on, and who else but us would tell him?" The blonde paused, pleading Solan with her eyes. "I'm going to the stable now. Promise me you'll meet me on the trail. Please, Solan?"

The youngster laid his head back on the pillow. "All right. As soon as Lorent is asleep. I'll leave."

"Thank you, honey. I'll see you soon."

Gabrielle looked at the moon. It would soon be dawn, and she knew it would be best if they were on their way to Kaleipus' while it was still dark. As she made her way to the stable, she hoped that Lorent would be soon be returning home.

Argo nickered when she felt a familiar presence rubbing her neck. Gabrielle placed the saddle on the warhorse, expertly cinching down the straps and bridle, and then grabbed an empty burlap bag, filling it with dry oats for the mare. "I'm sure the centaurs won't mind if we take some of their supplies, will they, Argo?" The horse shook her head, as if agreeing with the small woman.

Gabrielle led the horse to the main door of the stable, and peeked outside, just in time to see Lorent enter his hut. She waited to see if he would return to the jail, but was relieved when the torch burning in the home was put out, and things remained quiet in the village. She had no idea where Terek was, but decided it was time to get moving. Glancing at the sky again, she noted that dawn was quickly approaching and sighed with fatigue. She rubbed her eyes to bring more life into them, and felt Argo gently nudge her in the shoulder with her sensitive nose. "Ok, ok, Argo, we're going," the woman reassured the horse as she led the animal behind the stable, unable to resist passing by the jail one more time in hopes of seeing her lover.

Every window in the stone structure was dark; the bard checked every cell and each was empty. Terek's 'secure room' must be far into the building, making any attempt of escape of rescue nearly hopeless. Sending a prayer to Artemis, Gabrielle found the trail to the stream and their camp, and led Argo a short way down the path. She loosely tied the reins around a small tree, and turned around as she heard footsteps approaching. "Solan?"

"Here, Gabrielle," the boy whispered back as he came into view. "I brought some food for us, so we don't have to stop on the trail." He handed the woman a bag filled with fruit, bread, and cheese, which Gabrielle added to their saddlebags.

"That was good thinking, Solan. Now we don't have to take time to get the supplies from camp..." Gabrielle paused as she thought of all that had happened in such a short time, "...so let's get going."

She lifted the youngster onto Argo, and taking the reins, led the horse to a fallen log. Scratching the mare's nose, she offered her an apple from Solan's supplies. "It's up to us, now, Argo. Ready?" the blonde asked as she stepped onto the log, and swung her leg over the saddle behind Solan. She shifted into a comfortable position, and pulled the boy back towards her in a light embrace.

Argo again shook her head as if listening to the bard, and waited for her next command. At the soft touch of the reins on her neck, the horse started off down the trail to the old camp. As she reached the stream, Gabrielle guided her along the water's path, leading her to Kaleipus. Streaks of purple and blue were just beginning to appear on the horizon when her hooves splashed in the shallow stream, making the water fly in curving arcs as the horse stretched her long legs into a gallop. Argo carried her two friends away from the village and Xena, already longing to return to her master.

---

The prisoner was silent as Terek, holding a torch aloft, led her down a slippery, wet slope into a single room cell that was known as 'the secure room.' There were no windows in the cell, and it was completely enclosed in stone and mortar, in roughly a circular shape. The one entrance to the room was a hinged door made up of metal perpendicular slats, directly opposite the end of the slope. The only light in the room came from the corridor area, and since the cell door faced away from the ramp, the cell was in complete darkness. Escape from the room would be close to impossible, since 'the secure room' was essentially a cell within a cell.

Terek opened the cell gate, the hinges protesting the movement in a rusty squeal. Without waiting for orders, Xena stooped and walked into the cell, and then turned to face Terek, her face a mask of impassiveness.

The young centaur forced himself to show the prisoner the same kind of aloofness that she was disarming him with. He followed her into the room, set his torch into a wall sconce, and then released the tension on a winch, dropping a chain from the cell's ceiling. After attaching the Destroyer of Nation's shackles to the chain, Terek made the mistake of looking into her eyes again; the look of raw power and control in the blue eyes shook his conviction and his sense of authority. Once more, he felt that the woman, although shackled, was far from defenseless, and could over power him if she chose to. Gulping back his apprehension, Terek worked on the winch until the prisoner's arms were extended above her head. He hastily grabbed the torch, locked the cell door behind him, and made his way up the slope back to Lorent, leaving Xena in the darkness of the room and her thoughts.

The centaur forcibly slowed his breathing when he reached the main area of the jail. Terek didn't want Lorent to know just how badly the silent prisoner had shook him. After running his hand through his hair, he met his leader at the entrance of the prison.

"How did it go?" Lorent asked, as his eyes looked over the young jailer.

Not trusting himself to say more, Terek merely answered, "She's secured."

A smile finally broke out across the red haired centaur's face. "Excellent. Terek, for now, it's your job to see that the woman does not get any sleep. No food or water, either. Watch her closely. I'll send your relief in the morning."

The young centaur watched his leader cross the square and enter his home. Terek hesitated at the thought of re-entering the jail. The last thing he wanted to do was to spend time with the eerily quiet warrior, but orders were orders. After weighing the options, he decided that not angering Lorent was healthier than guarding the Warrior Princess.

---

It didn't take long for Solan to fall asleep in Gabrielle's arms. The steady gait of the horse rocked the boy into slumber and he relaxed against the small woman, trusting that she wouldn't let him fall from Argo. Unfortunately, Gabrielle's mind was not so easily slowed, as she racked her brain trying to formulate plans of rescue for her partner. The stress and tension of the day did nothing to help her thoughts; at last giving up, she noticed that Argo had picked up her pace with the rising sun. The bard tightened her embrace around the youngster, and let her thoughts drift as the warhorse carried them closer and closer to Kaleipus.

---

Leaving the jail for just a few moments, Terek entered his house and grabbed a blanket to protect him from the cold of the jail and then returned to the secure room to keep watch on the prisoner. Even though he approached as silently as he could, he was startled to find Xena's gaze fixed on him as he came into her view. The silent, watchful mask of the Destroyer of Nations continued to unease the centaur; at last deciding that being uncomfortable from the chill was better than the on-going mental onslaught of her icy stare, Terek entered her cell and threw his blanket over the head of the woman. The prisoner remained silent as he relocked the door behind him. Grabbing a pole that was left leaning against the outer wall of the cell, Terek reminded himself that he could still reach the prisoner with the stick and jolt her into wakefulness if he thought she was drifting off to sleep. He resigned himself to his watch, and hoped his relief would be quick in coming.

Xena shook her head and shoulders as she tried to rearrange the weight of the cloth more comfortably around her. She was glad that she had been able to unnerve the young centaur enough in order for him to make his first mistake. With the blanket over her head, she could at least shut down that part of her brain that had to tell him that she was visibly aware of the jailer at all times. Relying on her hearing to tell her if conditions should change, she took a steadying breath and rocked her weight back onto her heels, wriggling her toes at the same time. Her leg muscles were not protesting their inaction yet, but they soon would be. Xena next stood on her toes, stretching the calf muscles in order to keep them limber. Unfortunately, her arms were another matter. Gabrielle had tried to help by massaging and warming her fingers, but they already felt useless from the lack of adequate blood flow. Xena knew her fingers were still and cold, but the only thing she could do was flex her palms and fingers as much as possible. She didn't want to make any noise, and was careful not to touch or jostle the chain above her head. The warrior did not want Terek to interrupt her mental exercises, and the few physical ones she could do. Xena took another steadying breath, and formed a picture in her mind, forcing herself into a higher mental state that would both relax her and energize her for the ordeal to come. Releasing her breath, she closed her eyes under the blanket, and...

I can feel a few stray strands of straw underneath my boots. My breathing is slow and relaxed as I have nothing to fear. I face an empty wall of a barn; most of the light is behind me, but some sunlight is reaching for me through cracks in this broken down shack. I quietly move my arms in a wide arc at my side, fluidly bringing my hands in front of me, my right hand held above my left, palms inward, in a relaxed pose of both defense and offense. My eyes are closed, and I hear a slight movement behind me, where the door is. It's Gabrielle. I can tell from her light stride that she is alone...and that faint squeaky noise is her slightly damp hand gripping her staff nervously in anticipation of catching me off guard. I breathe steadily and evenly, listening to both the sounds of Gabrielle behind me and the mouse that is scratching around at some grain that is in front of me and to the left. Suddenly, with a burst of energy neither my lover of the mouse anticipated, I open my eyes and effortlessly throw myself into the still air of the barn. My battle cry startles the mouse, and it runs between two bales of hay to avoid me. I hear a soft gasp from Gabrielle as I continue to rise in my jump; when I reach the pinnacle of my leap, I thrust my legs out easily and forcefully. The buckets of water that are balanced on the wooden pillars on both sides of me fly away as I kick them solidly against opposite walls of the barn. I hear Gabrielle gasp again in surprise at this sight; I land in nearly the same spot I was in before I jumped. I can feel a different pattern of straw beneath the soles of my leather boots. I don't pause as I whirl towards my lover. I snarl at her in mock ferociousness as I swing my right leg around in one motion, slashing her staff out of her hands. Gabrielle growls and frowns in frustration as she realizes I have caught her off-guard, and not the other way around. I turn away from her, and quietly move my arms in a wide arc at my side, fluidly bringing my hands in front of me, my right hand held above my left, palms inward.I can feel a few stray strands of straw underneath my boots. My breathing is slow and relaxed as I have nothing to fear. I face an empty wall of a barn...

---

Lorent awoke early in the morning; his excitement of actually having captured the Warrior Princess made the normally heavy sleeper toss and turn for most of the short night. At last deciding it was useless to try to return to Morpheus, he rose and went to check on Solan, only slightly surprised to find the youngster was not in his bed. He was just about to go out and try to find the boy, when there was a knock on the door.

"Enter!"

A middle aged centaur entered Lorent' home. He looked a little shaken, as he thought of the best way to tell his leader the news. "Uh, Lorent..."

"What is it, Javet?"

"The prisoner's horse...it's gone. The saddle too. I know I should have put a guard at the stables last night, but..."

Lorent snorted in disgust. "Forget about it. Solan's not here either. He's probably still upset about what we're going to do to his 'friend'."

The older centaur was relieved that Lorent was not that angry at the loss of the horse. It was an excellent animal, and could have been sold for a large sum of dinars if Lorent had decided to get rid of the mare. "Do you want me to go look for them? I'm sure they couldn't have gone far."

Taking a moment to consider his options, Lorent shook his head. "Don't bother. Instead, I want you to relieve Terek at the secure room, and take over guarding the prisoner for this shift."

Javet smiled at the thought of watching the warrior. It was an honor to be picked by Lorent for such a special duty, and he wanted to make the most of his opportunity. At the very least, Javet hoped to make up for the loss of the mare, and work his way into the leader's good graces. It was going to be a good day after all.

---

The damp and chill started to effect the Warrior Princess. Her arms felt like dead weight hanging above her head. She struggled to flex and stretch her hands and fingers as much as she was able, but the tingling feeling in her arms added to her discomfort. Xena made an effort to disregard the painful stabbing sensations she felt when her protesting shoulder muscles managed to contract and relax on her command, and instead, concentrated on her legs. She completed different exercises to keep her legs in condition; at first she would stand on her toes, counting to herself how long she could remain motionless in that position, and then drop on her heels and do the same thing. Trying to stretch every muscle possible, Xena also balanced first on one leg and then the other. Even with the cold, her coordination was fine, but she was starting to feel tired from the lack of sleep. Just as she began to form a mental picture of quiet times past to relax herself, she heard someone coming down the slope into the secure room area. Xena recognized the gait of a new centaur, and let herself become an emotionless mask while she waited to meet her next guard.

"Terek," Javet called out. "I'm here to relieve you from your shift," the grey haired centaur announced as he entered the room. "How's our prisoner been?"

The young centaur felt exhausted, and he knew he looked it from the expression in Javet's eyes. "Quiet. Nothing to report." He handed over the pole he was leaning on, and started to move towards the exit when Javet called him back.

"What's the blanket doing on her head? I thought we were supposed to observe her at all times, and make sure she doesn't try anything." Taking the key from Terek, the older centaur entered the cell, and unceremoniously ripped the cloth from Xena's head and shoulders. The icy look of determination and strength from the woman scared him into speechlessness. Javet had expected the prisoner to be tired and disorientated; instead he was confronted with a true warrior who had the boldness to look her jailers in the eye relentlessly. The centaur suddenly realized that the assignment he had wanted so badly came with a high price to pay. He backed out of the cell, and after locking it, tried to hand the blanket back to Terek.

"Keep it," Terek snorted in a tone of derision. "You might find you need it."

Javet knew he would soon be alone with the prisoner. Wanting to keep Terek with him for as long as possible, he called out after him, "What about my relief?"

"I'll be back at dusk to take your place. And remember," he couldn't help but add a little harshly, "Watch her closely. And don't let her sleep."

In the dimness of the secure room, Javet looked at the warrior who stared back at him expressionlessly. The centaur knew it would be a long day.

It was mid-day before Gabrielle pulled Argo to a halt to give the horse a rest. They were still following the stream, and as the blonde gently woke Solan and helped him down from the mare, Argo moved closer to the water to quench her thirst. The bard slid from the horse and landed with a small splash next to the thirsty animal. Bending down herself, Gabrielle scooped up some cold water and washed her face with it, hoping to keep herself more awake and alert. Solan was stretching his legs when the woman handed him some cheese and apples that she had retrieved from Argo's saddlebags, and then helped herself to some of the food.

"Solan, do you know how much further it is to your uncle's village?"

Swallowing a piece of cheese, the boy glanced around him. "Things are starting to look familiar, Gabrielle. I think by dusk, we should be in Uncle Kaleipus' territory."

"Good. I don't want to be away from Xena for too long. Do you know anything about how the centaurs in Lorent's nation bring people to trial? How long will they keep Xena in that jail?"

Argo grazed on some sweet grass as Solan approached her and started to rub her down. Images of Xena chained in the cell flashed through his mind while he thought back on all he knew about Lorent and his village. The boy's voice was shaky when he answered. "They'll keep her at the jail for several days. They always try to get their prisoners as weak as possible before trial, so they won't cause any problems, or try to escape. During the trial..." Solan struggled with the words as his breath caught in his throat, "...I don't know."

"It's ok, honey," Gabrielle soothed the youngster, and gave him a tight embrace to comfort him. "We'll get there in time." The bard grabbed Argo's reins, and led her back to the edge of the stream.

"Now up you go," she said while she helped Solan into the saddle, and then found a large rock to stand on to follow him up. Argo needed no urging to continue the journey, and broke into a gallop as soon as the two friends were settled on her back.

---

Javet was finding the silence of the prisoner harder to bear than the coldness of the secure room. After wrapping Terek's blanket around him, the centaur found that he didn't have much to do besides watch the woman, who always kept eye contact with him, her one good eye never leaving his face. The gloom and quiet agitated Javet. He couldn't tell what time it was, how long he had been there, and with Xena staring him down, he also began to question who was the prisoner and who the jailer was. He felt as if he were trapped in a home haunted by his enemies, with the only exit out being behind a wall of fire. Hearing a noise behind him, he nearly stumbled in fear when he felt a hand clamp down hard on his shoulder.

"Javet, how are things going?"

"Oh, Lorent!" Javet responded a little too loudly. His beating heart was in his throat as he glanced at his leader. "Everything's fine. No worries."

"Good, good," the red haired centaur murmured while he looked into the cell. The prisoner returned his gaze stoically. "Hand me that pole, Javet."

Wordlessly, the older centaur gave over the pole that he had been holding ever since Terek had left the cell earlier. Lorent slid the weapon between two slats of the door and grinned at the Destroyer of Nations.

"How are the arms, prisoner?" he asked, just as he slammed the butt of the pole into her right shoulder. Without waiting for an answer, he smashed her left shoulder with equal force, and then next attacked her biceps.

Xena didn't flinch at the pain even though the sensations running through her arms were excruciating. A rippling effect passed up her arms and into her hands, making each nerve ending scream in agony. She hadn't been able to keep up with her exercises ever since Javet had removed the blanket from her head; she had to concentrate on breaking him before she could work on improving her situation. Unfortunately, now she was suffering the effects of the last few hours. Her upper body was almost completely useless, and her legs were aching from inactivity.

As if reading her thoughts, Lorent swung at her legs, concentrating mostly on her thighs. He pounded on the same spots continuously until several large bruises developed on the tanned skin. Not finished, the centaur hammered at her calves, the muscles there hard and unpliable from the lack of movement or stimulation.

Xena couldn't keep her body from rocking from the force of the blows; her legs felt on fire, but she never lost eye contact with her tormentor. The woman would not let her former enemy win this battle of wills, no matter how much she suffered.

Lorent could not understand the stamina of his prisoner. Her lack of response at the beating he gave her unnerved him a little, but he couldn't help but try one more tactic to get an emotional or physical reaction from his silent charge. Bringing the pole up to the woman's face, he placed it on her right cheek, turning her head to the left. "Thirsty, murderer? I bet you would like some water right about now," he taunted as he brought the pole to her left cheek, and turned her face back to confront him. The prisoner's left eye was completely closed, but her right eye stared at him impassively. "No answer? Then forget I mentioned it," Lorent said as he turned away from the woman.

Handing the pole back to Javet, he reminded the centaur needlessly, "Watch her closely. She's up to something."

The leader took one more look at the condemned. "Your trial is set for sunrise in two days. Start praying to Ares, or any god that you think will hear you. You'll need all the help you can get."

Without another word, Javet watched Lorent move up the slope to the upper part of the prison. The cell seemed even quieter after the big centaur left. Moving to glance at the prisoner, he wasn't surprised that she was again regarding him emotionlessly. The jailer felt a chill run up his spine; deciding quickly, he unlocked the cell door, and removed the blanket that Terek had left him. He stood out of reach of the prisoner, even though he was fairly sure she wouldn't attack him, and tossed the cloth over the woman's head. After hastily relocking the cell, he moved away from the door in order to put some distance between him and the woman. He did not like his job at all.

When she heard the key move in the lock, Xena let out the breath she had been holding. With the blanket again covering her face, she could concentrate on her physical needs. Her arms had quit trembling from the beating, but her legs were throbbing in pain. As she stretched up on her toes, he knotted calf muscles twitched in agony at the movement. Xena took a deep breath, and forced herself to remain still until the muscles slowly began to relax into a normal position. She closed her one good eye and continued her exercises, rocking from heel to toe, feeling her legs at first protesting the movement, and then accepting the pain and working through it. The warrior tried to flex her fingers, but the cold and dampness of the prison had frozen her fingers into half clenched fists. No matter how hard she concentrated, she could not get the finger joints to unlock. The chill had crept into her bones, and for the first time, she shivered involuntarily. Shaking herself mentally, she began to form a picture in her mind. The sun was warm that day, and it felt wonderful on her back...

The parchment is at last flying in the air. The only one to see it happen is Gabrielle. Minya left hours ago, and even Howar has lost faith in me, but not my Gabrielle. I see her run beside me, the grass of the meadow reaching up to her knees. I stop and watch in wonder as the parchment flutters in the pre-storm wind. The breeze has a taste of salt in it, and I'm sure the storm will be a big one. Will my plan work? It is a crazy one, and even my bard seemed worried at first, but at last gave into my scheme. I let more string out, and the parchment jerks away from me, wanting to be free. I rub my fingers along the coarse twine, and notice a small frayed spot on the string. I bring the parchment a little closer to me, and wind the string around a short stick I hold. I run around the meadow once more, for the pleasure of mere movement, and to see my lovely bard chasing after me. I can hear her breathing in small gasps behind me and it reminds me of other times I have heard those same gasps of pleasure. I turn my head and smile at Gabrielle. She looks at me with those dewy eyes, and I know she knows what I'm thinking. I stop running not far from the woods. The sweet smell of grass engulfs us from all the crushed blades we have trampled in our game. Gabrielle runs near me, but is too excited to quit moving. She jumps around me shouting, just like the children did on Solstice when we gave them all those presents. I look at her smile and melt; her eyes make me want to drown in their pools. I have never and could never love anyone more than my Gabrielle. I glance away from her and back to the flying parchment. I don't want her to read every emotion that's on my face. In my chest, my heart pounds with love for her. Despite everything, we have become each other's lover and family. "We did it, we did it, we did it!" Gabrielle cries, her attention on the straining parchment, as the happiness in her voice reaches me. "Yes," I think. "Yes, Gabrielle, we did it." My bard claps with glee, not knowing that my smile is for her amazing love and trust in me, and not the parchment that dances above our heads.The wind trembles against the parchment. It soars above our heads...

---

It was nearly dusk when Gabrielle and Solan entered Kaleipus' territory. The bard felt exhausted, and was relieved to be able to stop at last. Argo also needed a break, but Solan restlessly slid from the horse before the mare came to a stop, and ran to the hut he shared with Kaleipus.

"Uncle! Uncle!"

The grey haired centaur came out of their hut, surprised to see Solan racing towards him. The boy launched himself at his uncle, grabbing him by the waist in a desperate hug. Kaleipus automatically started rubbing the youngster's back, trying to calm him down. When Solan at last let go of his grip, the centaur leader was surprised again to find Gabrielle approaching him. "Solan? What's going on?" He looked around for Xena, but couldn't spot the woman. "Where's Xena?" The eyebrow above his patched eye rose in worry as he continued looking for the dark warrior.

As soon as Kaleipus finished asking the question, Solan again threw his arms around his uncle, and buried his face on the centaur's chest.

Concern etched across his brow, Kaliepus glanced at the bard. "Gabrielle?" He couldn't help but notice the haggard look to the woman, and the dark circles under her eyes.

"Lorent has her. He's going to kill her."

A muffled moan came from Solan, and Kaleipus could feel the boy tighten his grip on him. Reaching behind him, the centaur unclasped Solan's hands and brought them around in front of him. He grasped the boy's chin, and tilted it up so the youngster could look him in the eye. "Son, I need your help. I'm going to take Gabrielle to our hut, and I want you and your friend Gowan to take Argo to the stable and brush her down. Can you do that for me?"

Solan silently nodded his head, and after gathering the mare's reins in his hands, he walked over to his friend's home. Soon the two boys were headed to the stables.

"That should keep them busy for awhile," Kaleipus noted, and snaked his left arm across the bard's back and under her left shoulder to support her. "C'mon, let me take you to my home."

The woman remained silent even as Kaleipus drew out a chair for her at the table, and gave her something to eat. Gabrielle chewed mechanically, not even noticing what the centaur had put in front of her. After finishing off her meal with a small mug of ale, the bard continued her silence, simply staring at the table before her. She seemed incapable of initiating any conversation, while her mind whirled in working out some escape for her lover.

"Gabrielle," Kaleipus started, breaking the blonde�s concentration. "I think I have a plan, but I have to ask you something personal first. Are you and Xena...partnered?"

The bard clenched her jaw as she tried unsuccessfully to hold back some tears. "Yes," she whispered. "Xena and I were married in an Amazon ceremony last year." A few tears spilled on her cheeks as Gabrielle continued, "You don't know how hard it was to see her in that prison..."

Kaleipus helped the woman to her feet, and led her to a sleeping pallet. "Don't worry, Gabrielle. We're going to get her. I want you to sleep now, because tomorrow we're going back to Lorent�s village. You need to get some rest."

Without protest, the bard lay down on the soft pallet, not even bothering to move back the blankets. Kaleipus untied her boots and removed them before throwing an extra cover over the exhausted woman. Her eyes closed immediately, the ale and her exhaustion working quickly to send her to Morpheus.

Kaleipus returned to the table, and finding a blank scroll, quickly wrote something on it, before rolling it up and attaching his seal to it. Just as he was ready to leave his hut, Solan returned from the stables, with the young dark haired Gowan in tow. "Son, I have to talk to Agenor for awhile about Xena. You must be hungry..why don't you two get something to eat, and I'll be back soon."

Nodding mutely, Solan turned to his friend, and opened a cupboard to look through their supplies. Gowan grabbed some fruit to complete their light meal, and helped his friend with cutting up some nutbread while Kaleipus left the boys. He headed to the main square, looking for Agenor, his advisor and oldest friend.

The blond centaur was with a group of men and centaurs, discussing recent politics relevant to his Nation. Glancing up, Agenor noticed Kaleipus, and invited him over to join the debate. "Kaliepus! You can answer this question! Danaus, here, is certain that..."

The older centaur grabbed Agenor's arm. "Not now, my friend. I need your help in something."

The confident smile of Agenor left his face to be replaced by a worried frown. "What's going on? Have the scouting parties brought back bad news?"

Kaleipus shook his head. "It's nothing like that, but it is important. I want you to take this scroll to the Amazon village in the deep woods. You know the one, don't you? Ephiny is their current queen. And you need to hurry."

Agenor took the scroll from his leader's hands. "I'll leave right away."

"Thank you, my friend. And please hurry."

Dipping his head once in understanding, the blond centaur took the southern exit of the square, headed for Amazon territory.

After watching him leave, the leader turned back to his home. There were nutbread crumbs on the table, but the boys were nowhere to be found. Kaliepus cleaned up the area, and then started a small fire in the hearth to ward off the night's coming cold. Thinking that Gabrielle might need another blanket, he took one from his own bed and went to check on his sleeping guest. He found Solan next to the bard on the pallet, his head resting on her shoulder, both of them sound asleep. Not wanting to disturb them, Kaleipus gently shook the blanket out over the two of them. They both needed as much rest as they could get, because they would be headed back to Lorent�s nation very soon.

---

Xena didn't know what time it was, but she knew the guards would be changing soon. She could hear Javet pacing outside her cell, and could feel his mounting anxiety over being left alone with her so long. Due to his pacing, Xena again had to temporarily stop her exercises. Her legs were beginning to shake with inaction, and her arms were long past being able to do any sort of movement at all. She tried to lick her lips, but her dry tongue had no moisture to give to her parched lips. Deciding to try breathing relaxation methods instead, she slowly drew her breath in and tried to clear her mind when she heard Terek start down the sloped tunnel to her cell.

Even though Javet was expecting him, he still jumped when Terek arrived. "About time you got here!" he challenged, trying to cover his fear.

Terek looked tired in the dim light. "Well, I'm here now, so you can go," he said as he grabbed the pole away from the other centaur. "And where's my blanket?"

Without saying a word, Javet motioned with his head towards the cell. Terek shook his head and rolled the pole between his palms. "Get going, and don't forget to come back tomorrow."

Unbelievably, the older centaur practically ran up the slope, avoiding eye contact with Terek. He was happy to finally leave that silent woman to someone else's care.

Xena remained motionless in her cell, listening to the two guards talk. Even though she was still chained and locked up, she could still have an effect on the jailers. She waited to see what Terk would do next.

The young centaur approached the door to the cell. It looked to him as if the prisoner had not moved in all the time he was gone. The blanket covered her head and shoulders, and her bare feet were planted firmly on the ground. "Xena?" the guard asked. Not really expecting a response from the woman, Terek continued, "I'm supposed to make sure that you don't go to sleep, but I can't do that with the blanket over your head. I could nudge you with the pole to see if you're awake, but I'd rather not do that. Or, I could take the blanket off, and ah...I really don't want to do that either. So...can you somehow let me know you're awake?"

Xena claimed this as another victory, and not a small one. She had managed to get Terek to see her as a person and use her name, and get beyond the 'Destroyer of Nations' title. Past dry lips, she managed to say, "I'm awake."

"Ah...good. Real good. I'm going to leave you alone now, but I'll have to ask you every now and then. All right?" Terek waited for a reply, but none came. He moved away from the cell, and leaned against the tunnel wall that led to the upper jail. Another long night. He knew it would not be his last at the jail.

---

It was shortly before dawn when Agenor returned to his village with his guests. With the light of the moon, he directed them to Kaleipus' hut, and knocked lightly on the door. Almost immediately, the door swung open. Kaleipus had not been able to sleep, and had finally decided to just get up and wait for his friend.

"Come in, come in. I'm so glad you got my message and were able to get here so quickly." The centaur leader moved away from the door, inviting his guests inside.

Ephiny entered first; she was not dressed in her ceremonial leathers as queen, but instead garbed as a warrior. Behind her paced a small centaur, only about one year old. Ephiny grabbed his hand, and led him to the one-eyed centaur. "Kaleipus, this is my son. Xenan, this is Kaleipus. He is leader of this Nation." Xenan shyly hid behind his mother, but smiled when Kaleipus ruffled his hair.

"You are both welcome here. And Agenor, thank you for your help. We'll be leaving soon, but should be back in a few days time."

"Don't you want me to go with you? I would be more than happy to be a scout for you on the journey."

"No, I don't think that would be a good idea. I don't want Lorent to think of us as a warring party, and I don't know how he is going to react to us when we arrive. Return home, my friend. And thank you again."

After Agenor left, the centaur leader turned to Ephiny. "I'm going to gather up what supplies we'll need. Why don't you go wake Gabrielle? She's through there," he indicated, pointing to a doorway. "Solan, my son, is with her."

Bringing Xenan with her, Ephiny found the two still curled up on the bed. The amazon knelt on the ground next to her friend, and gently brushed some stray strands of hair off her face. Gabrielle still had dark circles under her eyes, and Ephiny could only imagine what the bard had been through. Stroking her cheek, Ephiny whispered, "Gabrielle?" to the sleeping woman, and watched as the muscles around the woman's eyes began to twitch into wakefulness.

"Xena? Can't we sleep a little longer?" The bard finally opened her eyes. "Ephiny..? What are...oh!" She threw her arms around her friend and buried her face into the soft curly blonde hair of the amazon as all the events of the last day and a half washed through her.

Ephiny rubbed her friend's neck as she comforted the hurting bard. "Gabrielle, it's time to go. Are you ready?"

The bard didn't answer; instead she just nodded her head up and down against the other woman's neck. She released her grasp on the amazon, and turned to Solan, kissing him on the cheek.

"Solan, honey, it's time to get up."

The boy sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes gently with his fingers. When he finally did open his eyes, the first thing he saw was a small centaur staring at him. "Solan, this is my friend Ephiny, and her son Xenan. We're all going to Lorent's Nation." Gabrielle squeezed Solan�s shoulder reassuringly.

Naturally shy, and being caught staring at the boy, Xenan again hid behind his mother. Although he was being raised in both the Amazon's camp, and the camp of his father's relatives, he didn't know too many human children. This was the first boy he had ever met, and he didn't know what to expect. Solan looked friendly, but Xenan decided to let him make the first move.

Any further conversation stopped as Kaleipus entered the room. "Ready when you are."

The small group made its way to the stable. While Kaleipus saddled one of the village's horses, Gabrielle got Argo ready for the journey. She watched her eat an apple as she checked the saddlebags, and to see if they had enough provisions for the road. At last satisfied, she led the horse from the stall, and helped Solan into the saddle. Getting up behind the boy, she turned to see Kaleipus hand Xenan up to Ephiny on the stable horse's back. The little centaur�s eyes were barely open from having stayed awake all night during the journey from his mother's village; Ephiny cradled him in her arms and settled him down for a nap.

The sun was just peeking over the edge of the horizon when Kaleipus led the small group out of his village.

---

"Xena?" Terek asked. "I'll be leaving soon. Are you...um..."

A raspy voice croaked, "Yes," in a barely audible tone. Xena's feet were so cold she could no longer feel them; her legs were buckled at the knees, most of her weight resting on the shackles at her wrists. She could now feel her arms and shoulders, because it seemed as if her shoulders were being dislocated from trying to hold her up. Her thoughts were not as clear either; she could not concentrate and it was harder and harder to enter the mental state where she could relax and recall specific details of events she shared with Gabrielle. She tried to lick her lips again, but it was a useless effort. The chains above her head jangled constantly from her shivering. Still, she refused to give in to her jailers. She desperately tried to call up images in her mind to take her away from her reality. The only thing that came to her was a vision of Gabrielle's face. The blue-green eyes looked at her fondly as she smiled quietly at Xena. Holding this picture in her mind, Xena worked to forget about the pain in her body as she waited for her trial.

Gabrielle and her friends only stopped once for a brief rest and to water the horses as they made their way to Lorent's village. Again following the river, they reached the campsite before dusk where Solan had first found Xena and the bard. Even though Gabrielle wanted to push on immediately, Kaleipus called a halt to their journey so they could go through their plan one more time. Since he didn't want to go to war against his own kin, the leader hoped he could reach Lorent through reason.

"Gabrielle, you're to stay hidden in the woods while we talk to Lorent. I don't want him to think that the Amazon Queen would be another easy 'capture', and until I can find out what he's thinking, I want you safely out of sight. Ephiny will call out the signals to you to let you know if it's safe to come in, or if we need your help, ok?"

The bard nodded as Ephiny nudged her horse closer to Gabrielle, holding out a large saddlebag.

"What's this?" Gabrielle asked, and took the bag from her friend. Opening it up, she saw her queen's mask wrapped carefully with a blanket to protect the delicate feathers.

"Just in case we need the Queen to help us out, Gabrielle."

The young blonde squeezed her friend's arm in gratitude. "Thank you."

"And if you hear this call," Ephiny continued, as she cupped her hand to her mouth and made a distinctive bird whistle, "that means we need you as Queen. This call," the regent said as she imitated a different bird, "means Gabrielle, Xena's friend is needed."

"All right, let's get going," Kaleipus said and headed down the trail to the village. The others followed quietly behind, lost in their own thoughts and concerns. When the centaur saw the trail widening, he stopped and helped both women from their mounts. "Gabrielle, you'll wait here with the horses. Ephiny, Solan, and Xenan and I will try talking some sense into my cousin first. Hopefully he can still see reason and what's good for the Centaur Nations."

"Good luck,' the bard whispered as they walked away, and sent a heartfelt prayer to Artemis.

Xena could barely keep her head up. She felt so numb from the cold that she couldn't feel anything at all. Only the constant thirst reminded her that she was still alive, still conscious. Javet had been silent all day, not speaking a word to her. She didn't know if she should be grateful or not for the quiet; any noise might help her stay awake, but the silence made her lose track of time. She couldn't remember if Javet had just arrived, or would be leaving soon. For all she knew, the guards could be arriving and leaving at different times to confuse her and keep her off balance. She thought her trial would be soon, but even that idea seemed hazy at the moment. Taking a deep breath, she tried once more to focus her thoughts. A picture of Gabrielle entered her mind, and she struggled to hold onto it while she shivered in the damp cell.

--

Kaleipus and his group were spotted quickly as they entered the village. The centaurs recognized Solan, and most knew Kaleipus, but the woman and the little centaur were strangers to the camp. Nobody challenged the group as they made their way to Lorent's hut.

The red haired centaur was already awake when he heard the commotion from the square. He opened his door to find his cousin and the others on the stoop. "Well, Solan, it seems you brought your uncle here to try to save your 'friend'."

"Yes, he did. He knows injustice when he sees it. Why don't we go inside and discuss it, Cousin?"

"Her trial is tomorrow, and we should see justice then." Lorent would not back down to his older cousin; he was the leader here, and he would define what justice was. Spotting a familiar face in the crowd, he shouted, "Terek!" to get the centaur�s attention. Having caught the centaur's eye, he motioned him over to join the group. "Terek, it seems we have to convince my cousin here that the Destroyer of Nations is evil. Let's all go inside."

The village hummed with rumors and questions about the meeting going on in Lorent's home. A few centaurs dared to stray close to the building in order to eavesdrop but little could be heard. Those that did hear bits of conversation made their own rumors to spread around.

"Lorent," Kaleipus started, "this is Ephiny and her son Xenan. Ephiny was married to a good friend of mine, who died needlessly due to ignorance between men and centaurs. It seems to me that you are doing the same thing."

"Cousin," the red haired centaur snorted in laughter. "If your friend died needlessly, the woman will not. She has done more to harm the Centaur Nations than any other person. You are witness to that fact. This trial is justified and long over-due."

Kaleipus shook his head. "The Destroyer of Nations is no more. Xenan wouldn't be here today if it wasn't for Xena. The warrior helped deliver a member of our Nation. Is killing one woman important enough to destroy the alliance we have with the Amazons?"

"A nice story. But it's only your word against mine. And what do I care about the Amazons? There are no Amazons in my territory."

Realizing that there would be no reasoning with his headstrong cousin, the older centaur turned to Ephiny. "Regent?" He nodded his suggestion to call the Queen, and turned back to Lorent shaking his head. "If you only knew what you were doing..."

"I know exactly what I'm doing! And it's something that should have been done long ago!" The leader glanced at Terek, but the young centaur would not look him in the eyes. In disbelief, he realized that the prisoner had somehow gotten Terek to respect her, to sympathize with her. That thought alone made his anger increase another notch. He watched as the strange Amazon opened the door to his hut and gave a brief whistle. "What's this supposed to prove?" he demanded, hands clenched at his side.

"I want you to meet one more person before you seal our fate. You must reconsider!"

Lorenz snorted in disgust at his duped cousin.

--

Gabrielle was going through a mind clearing exercise that Xena had taught her when she heard a whistle. Unfortunately, it was Ephiny's first whistle, the one that meant Queen Gabrielle was needed. She put on her mask, and walked purposely into the village.

When the centaurs saw yet another strange woman enter their village, a new round of rumors and whispers broke out. No one stood in her way as she walked directly to Lorent's hut, somehow knowing which dwelling belonged to the Centaur leader.

The Queen was grateful that the mask hid her eyes from Lorent. Inside, her heart was beating painfully fast, and she had to struggle not to let her hands shake. This was the centaur who had her lover, and her life was in his hands. She knew she had to be strong for all of them.

Barely glancing at the small woman, Lorent turned to Kaliepus. "And who is this? This little person is going to be the one to stop me from serving justice to the prisoner?"

Ephiny spoke up. "This is Queen Gabrielle, Queen of all the Amazon Nations."

Lorent laughed in disbelief. "Again with the Amazons? Cousin, I've told you, I don't care about them. The trial is set for dawn tomorrow. You and all your Amazon friends are welcome to attend..."

Kaliepus cut him off. "Well, if you don't care about a war between our two Nations, then how about a civil war?"

"What are you talking about?" the younger centaur scoffed.

"Xena is Queen Gabrielle's partner. And Solan, my son, is...also Xena's son."

---

Lorent lowered his eyes and looked skeptically at his cousin. "Are you telling me, Kaleipus, that you and the Destroyer of Nations..."

"Of course not, cousin. Borias is the boy's father. And Xena is his mother. She gave him to me when..." the older centaur stopped explaining when he heard the door slam behind him. Through an open window, he saw the retreating form of Solan, running for the woods. Kaleipus shook his head in anger and frustration at his lack of thought and compassion for his son. He should have known that all this information would come as a shock to the boy; unfortunately, he had been focusing so long on how to help Xena, that he completely forgot that after so long, Solan might not be ready for, or like, the truth about his parents. "Gods, I'm so stupid," he muttered to himself. "Ephiny, would you and Xenan go after him? I don't think my boy is ready to see me, or Gabrielle, yet."

Nodding, Ephiny reached down to grab Xenan's hand, and followed after Solan.

[faveficarchive]

Queen's Gambit

by Silent Bard

April 2002

The episode Endgame opened a lot of story possibilities (then promptly destroyed them with a reset) of what happened on Voyager the 16 years we didn't see. This is one such story.

Big thank yous to Bat Morda and Penumbra for help with the editing. You guys rock!

LEGAL DISCLAIMER:

Captain Kathryn Janeway, Seven of Nine, Chakotay and all other characters who have appeared in the series Star Trek: Voyager, together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of Viacom and Paramount Pictures. No copyright infringement was intended in the writing of this fan fiction. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author. This story cannot be sold or used for profit in any way. Copies of this story may be made for private use only and must include all disclaimers and copyright notices.

And when I wake you're never there

But when I sleep you're everywhere

You're everywhere

'Cause you're everywhere to me

And when I close my eyes it's you I see

You're everything I know that makes me believe

I'm not alone

I'm not alone

                  --Michelle Branch

Seven of Nine entered the quarters to find them bathed in candlelight. She looked around, confused. Captain Kathryn Janeway, the owner of the quarters was standing by the couch two champagne glasses in her hands.

"What is this?" Seven asked.

"Happy anniversary, Seven," Janeway's voice was warm and rich and it tickled Seven in ways she was unable to process. The captain handed Seven a champagne glass.

"Captain?" confusion and wonder filled her tone. Perhaps this evening was going to progress differently than she had first imagined.

"It was five years ago today that you became part of our family. I know it has been a difficult road, but I just wanted to tell you how proud I am of you. Sometimes I think your humanity surpasses even mine," Janeway smiled as she raised her glass in a toast. "Happy anniversary, Seven. Voyager is richer by your presence."

Tears began to form in Kathryn's eyes so she quickly took a drink of the champagne. Seven followed suit.

"I know you still dislike being the center of attention, so I kept the celebration small. I hope you don't mind?" the captain ushered Seven to a seat at the table where a small feast was laid out. Seven was touched yet again when she realized that the captain had gone out of her way to replicate all of her favorite foods.

"This is wonderful, Captain. Thank you very much. I don't mind celebrating with just you. It has been some time since we have had shared a meal together, just the two of us."

Janeway smiled in relief. She had been a little worried that Seven would be offended at such an intimate display. But Janeway had ignored her fears and gone ahead with her plans. She was glad she had followed her instincts. "It has been awhile, hasn't it? We should work on that."

The smile that graced Seven's face at that comment could only be described as radiant. "I concur, Captain."

"Please, we've been together for five years now Seven. I think you can call me Kathryn when we are off duty." Janeway instantly regretted the wording of her sentence. 'Oh god, I hope she doesn't think I meant anything by saying we've been together,' she fretted internally.

Feeling as if she was dreaming Seven of Nine could barely find her voice. "I would like that, Kathryn," she replied tremulously. This was definitely an evening to remember for the former Borg.

Dinner was spent sharing stories and reminiscing about adventures from the past five years. Janeway couldn't remember a recent evening where she felt so relaxed and comfortable. If she were honest she would have to admit that she never felt as relaxed and comfortable as she did when she was with Seven. There was something about the blonde that made Janeway feel like she was home. They had retired to the couch after dinner and both women seemed reluctant to end the evening. The topics had shifted from past adventures to planning future ones.

"That sounds like a truly fascinating planet. I would love to visit it with you," Seven smiled shyly at Janeway. She had consumed three glasses of champagne over the course of the evening and she was definitely feeling the effect of the synthehol. Her inhibitions were lowered and she found herself saying things she would normally keep to herself.

Janeway's heart clenched. The evening had been perfect but it was beginning to get out of hand. After 5 glasses of wine the iron band of control that she normally kept her emotions behind was showing definite signs of wear and tear. It was time for a graceful retreat. Fantasies were nice for an evening, but it was time for reality to supercede.

"I would think that visiting Risa would best be left for you and Chakotay. It is quite a romantic planet. Couples come from across the Alpha Quadrant to visit. I hear it is the number one honeymoon spot for humans looking to get away from Earth," Kathryn was too busy averting her eyes as she spoke to notice the crestfallen look Seven's face.

Seven had been avoiding the topic of Chakotay all evening, but since the Captain had brought it up she figured she might as well take the segue offered to her. "Speaking of Commander Chakotay, I have something I wish to tell you."

Janeway felt a burning sensation in her chest and her dinner threatened to come back up. She knew exactly what Seven was going to say and she knew she didn't want to hear it. Not tonight, not with her control so weak. She took a deep breath and retreated behind her command mask to get through the rest of this conversation. "Yes, Seven?" trying to sound interested she didn't notice that her voice was as monotone as a Borg.

Seven was too distracted to notice Janeway's shift in mood. She had been meaning to tell Janeway all night but she hadn't wanted to ruin the wonderful evening. Kathryn had given her a gift with this anniversary and she didn't want the memories spoiled. It looked like she wasn't going to get her wish. "Commander Chakotay has asked me to marry him."

Even though she knew this was coming, it still felt like a bomb had exploded in her heart. 'No, god. Please god. Anything but this,' Janeway moaned internally. "That's wonderful, Seven. I suppose this really was a night to celebrate," she raised her wine and finished the almost full glass in one draught.

"I haven't decided if I should accept his offer yet." The silence was deafening. Neither woman looked at the other as both were lost in their thoughts. 'This is it, Katie. She's giving you the perfect opening. Tell her not to do it. Tell her he's no good for her. Tell her they aren't well suited for each other. Tell her the truth--that you love her and he could never give her what you could,' Janeway's inner voice begged.

"Commander Chakotay is a good man. You could do much worse than marrying him," Kathryn offered diplomatically. 'But she could do better! Tell her Katie! This could be your last hope!'

"Commander Chakotay *is* a good man. And I know that he loves me very much." Kathryn was too busy ignoring her inner voice to notice the glaring omission that this statement revealed.

"You two have been dating for quite awhile now. I'm surprised that he didn't ask you sooner," Kathryn's mouth kept talking but her brain was shutting down. All she could think about was Seven marrying someone else. She was losing her hold on her control so she let the captain take over while the woman retreated to lick her wounds.

"We have been dating one year, four months, 2 weeks, and three days. When we began dating I had made it clear to him that I wanted to 'take it slow.' I believe this was as long as he could wait. He is quite anxious to hold the ceremony."

"Really? When were you thinking of holding it?" Janeway moved to the replicator and recycled her empty wine glass, then requested a whiskey and soda. She moved back to the couch and sat at the opposite end from Seven, further away than they had been earlier in the evening.

"He would like to have the ceremony next month," Seven found herself answering the captain's questions automatically. It felt as if her world, so carefully constructed, was falling apart. She realized that she was about to cry, and didn't want to show so much emotion to Captain Janeway. It was obvious that Janeway wasn't going to say anything against Chakotay's proposal like Seven had been wishing for.

It wasn't that she didn't like Chakotay. He was a good man, and he did love her. She cared for him in return, but just not as much as she should. Over the course of their relationship she had come to realize that the feelings she felt for him were not as strong as the ones she experienced for her captain. Part of her believed that those feelings were returned and she had hoped that this conversation would bring about confessions. Unfortunately, this looked not to be the case. Either Kathryn did not feel love for Seven, or she was too stubborn to admit it. Seven felt a door close around her heart. She knew that she could tell the captain that she was experiencing doubt because she loved another but somehow she instinctively knew that the only way things would work out between her and Kathryn would be if Janeway expressed her feelings first.

Abruptly Seven stood up, suddenly unable to be in the same room as Kathryn any longer. "I should be going, Captain. It is late and we both have duty in the morning."

"Good night Seven," Janeway called, having the foreboding sense that Seven was not only walking out of her quarter's, but out of her life forever. Feeling disgusted with herself and angry at her First Officer she threw the empty glass against the wall that separated her quarters from the man in question. "Die, Chakotay, die," she murmured incoherently.

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

It's funny how quickly time passes when you are dreading something. The month between Seven telling Janeway about Chakotay's proposal and the actual ceremony passed by in what felt like the blink of an eye. At least to Kathryn. It hadn't helped that the entire ship had been ecstatic at the news. There had been weddings over the years on Voyager, but most, like Tom and B'Elanna's, had been small affairs. The crew had decided that a huge wedding was in store for the ship's First Officer and Astrometrics Officer.

As she stood at the altar in her dress uniform Kathryn looked on at what seemed to be her entire crew. There was a skeleton crew on the bridge and in engineering, but everyone else was here ready to celebrate the union of Seven and Chakotay. Everyone was smiling and happy, eager to share in the joy of this event. Everyone but Kathryn. It had taken three whiskey and sodas just to get her nerves calm enough to put her uniform on. It was bad enough that Seven was actually going to marry Chakotay. What made it even worse was that she would have to perform the ceremony. Not for the first time she wished she was not captain. Things would be so much easier and perhaps this would be her wedding'

As the music started she felt one more piece of her heart fall away. 'You can still stop this, Katie,' her inner voice started but even it seemed lifeless. There was no other way. She was the captain. She would do her duty. She would marry the woman she loved to one of her best friends, sit through as much of the reception as she could handle then go back to her quarters and drown her sorrow in synthehol. If she could just make it through the ceremony she'd be fine. She finally flashed a smile at the groom who had been standing in front of her for the last few minutes. She knew it was her imagination but the smile he returned seemed smug to her.

Naomi Wildman started down the aisle. She had been so excited to have been included in the ceremony. B'Elanna and Seven had mended fences and could be considered friends, but the relationship between Naomi and Seven was special and Seven would have no one else as her Maid of Honor. Besides, Chakotay had bucked tradition by asking B'Elanna to be his Best Man.

The music switched to the wedding march. Seven had done copious amounts of research and had insisted on a traditional earth ceremony. Chakotay could deny his bride-to-be nothing, so a traditional earth wedding it was.

Kathryn gasped as she got her first sight of the bride. No one heard the captain; the entire room made similar noises as Seven approached the altar on the arm of the Doctor. Seven was a vision in white. Her dress was a floor length, sleeveless number with a long train. A veil covered her face obscuring the look of horror that was etched on her features.

'I can not go through with this, this is wrong, I can not go through with this,' reverberated through Seven's head while she slowly glided down the aisle to meet her groom. Instead of looking at him, Seven's eyes were latched on Janeway's. She could see the attraction Janeway felt for her in the captain's eyes as she looked at Seven; the look slowly morphed into one of dread as the reality of the situation registered with Janeway. For a moment Seven almost bolted. 'It wouldn't be so bad, leaving Chakotay at the altar. Better that, than marrying a man I really don't love.' She looked over at the man in question. He smiled at her so gently and with so much love, she knew she couldn't hurt him. Her life with him would never be filled with passion and intensity, but it would be filled with love and comfort. She turned her gaze back to Kathryn in time to see all her emotions fall behind the command mask as Captain Janeway took over. 'This is the correct decision. This is the only decision. Kathryn will never admit her feelings. Better a life with Chakotay than one alone.'

Kathryn felt as if she were standing on quicksand. This was too much. How much torture could one woman bear? It took all the command training she had not to burst into tears or throw up. As she had been doing a lot lately, Kathryn allowed the captain to take over. She started the ceremony on auto-pilot, barely paying attention to the words coming out of her mouth. She was staring at a spot just above the couple's heads so she wouldn't have to look at either of them.

"If anyone has a reason why these two people should not be wed they should speak now or forever hold their peace." In the silence, Kathryn finally looked at Seven who was looking back at her. What she saw in the younger woman's eyes took her breath away. Attraction, desire, and love were being radiated to her. The captain took a deep breath as the rest of the holodeck melted away and all that existed were Seven's eyes. Taking a chance, she let all of her attraction, desire and love for Seven visible in her eyes as well. Seven smiled as the connection between the two women grew tighter. Janeway heard a noise coming from her left, but she ignored it, refusing to look away from Seven's eyes.

'Why have I been fighting this?' she asked herself as she slowly drowned in the love Seven's eyes contained. The noise to her left grew louder and she finally looked away to see what it was. The rest of the holodeck came racing back to her perception and she realized that the noise was Chakotay clearing his throat to get her attention. She was in the middle of performing a wedding. Seven's wedding. How long she and Seven had been staring into each other's eyes, she wasn't sure. But it was enough for people to have noticed that something was amiss. The crew were shifting in their seats unsure what the hold up was.

'It's now or never Katie, and after seeing what you just saw you'd better make the right decision,' Janeway's little voice demanded. Captain Kathryn Janeway cleared her throat, then opened her mouth to speak.

"Red Alert. All crew, please report to battle stations," the business-like tone of Commander Tuvok's voice came over the communications system. For a moment the room held its breath, confused by the interruption. Then controlled chaos broke out as everyone rushed off to man their posts.

Janeway, Chakotay and Seven ended up sharing a turbolift on their way to the bridge. "It wouldn't be a Delta Quadrant wedding without a red alert," the First Officer joked. "I suppose I should be happy it wasn't the honeymoon that got interrupted," he continued. "Well, my darling wife, are you ready to take on the bad guys?" he smiled at Seven affectionately.

"Technically, she isn't your wife yet," Kathryn tried to keep the tone light and humorous, but there was a hint of something darker there.

"What?" he asked, confused.

"I never did declare you husband and wife. The ceremony was interrupted," she really wasn't sure why she was saying these things but for some reason she wanted to make it clear to her First Officer that he hadn't won yet. It might be late in the game, but Kathryn Janeway wasn't going down without a fight.

"Oh, come on Kathryn. That's just a formality," he chuckled a bit and saw that she wasn't laughing. "You're serious!" he was incredulous.

Kathryn realized that she was coming on a bit harsh. Things needed to get sorted out, but in the turbolift on the way to battle was neither the time nor the place. "I just think that it would be wise to have all the legalities in place for when we get back to the Alpha Quadrant. We wouldn't want there to be any problems with your marriage to a Borg."

"Ex-Borg," he replied automatically. Something was going on here, something he didn't understand or like. First there had been the weird pause in the ceremony and now Kathryn was being a strange stickler for details.

"The captain is correct, Chakotay. We don't want any surprises when we return to the Alpha Quadrant," Seven refused to look at the commander as she sided with Janeway.

"Fine. Pronounce us husband and wife."

The turbolift doors slid open, but for a moment no one aboard it moved. Janeway felt the challenge in his tone. She looked over at Seven. The other woman was giving away nothing. It was up to Janeway to make a decision. She took a deep breath and exited the turbolift. "Report!" she barked at Tuvok as she took her seat back from him. Chakotay plopped down in his seat, anger emanating from him in waves. She ignored him and got lost in the situation at hand.

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

Janeway stared at the glass in her hand confused. It was empty, that was what the problem was. She weaved to the replicator and requested another drink. Taking a sip, a small part of her recognized that somewhere along the line the soda in her whiskey and soda had been done away with. She had lost count of how many drinks she had consumed. What did it matter. She could still feel' too many things.

This was the first night in weeks that Janeway felt she was able to let herself get drunk. There had been too much to do before. Voyager had managed to barely escape destruction in their battle with the Flortridians, the aliens that had interrupted Seven and Chakotay's wedding. Limping away from the battle they had been lucky to escape as well off as they had. Only fifteen people had been killed.

Sitting on her couch, Kathryn allowed herself to remember the last few weeks. The Flortridians had swooped in out of nowhere and attacked Voyager with little to no reason. They weren't even in their area of space. Tuvok said that they just started attacking. No warning, nothing. Voyager had managed to repel the first battle ship with little problem. However, they had retreated only to return with four of their friends in tow, with lethal results: Voyager had seen its first casualties in months. Ten of the casualties were immediate. The other five had died in sickbay, three of them never waking up from the comas they had fallen into. Kathryn took each death as a personal affront.

Turning her mind away from this path she tried to think of more pleasant things. She couldn't find any. Kathryn took another long swig of whiskey. She knew she was avoiding the subject she both needed to think about, and needed to avoid. She had buried her best friend today. She snorted at this thought. Her best friend. Her last memory of him was her betraying him. How hard would it have been to just go ahead and say what he wanted to hear that day?

No. She wasn't going to go over this again. It was in the past. No one but Seven knew about it. The rest of the ship just assumed that Chakotay and Seven were husband and wife. They treated Seven as the grieving widow. No one needed to know the truth. It didn't matter now anyway.

But it ate at her. Chakotay had died'not married, and it was all her fault. She had done that to him, his Captain, his friend'full of spite, and for reasons that she could barely remember now. All she could remember was that she had betrayed the man who had helped hold this crew together for eight long years. She finished the drink in a gulp and tossed the glass. It bounced impotently against the wall.

A ringing sound echoed loudly in the room. Janeway blinked, unsure what the noise was. It rang again sounding more urgent to Janeway's ears. Realizing it was her door chime and who must be on the other side of the door she ignored it. Finally the person gave up. Janeway sighed in relief.

Her relief was not long lasting. The door opened admitting Seven of Nine to the Captain's Quarters. Neither spoke immediately. Janeway was surprised that Seven had the gall to override the security seal on her door. She realized that she shouldn't have been. Seven had been trying to speak with her for days now.

"You have been avoiding me," Seven's tone was accusatory.

Janeway refused to look at the former Borg. She had consumed too much synthehol, she was not in control of her emotions. She could not have this conversation.

"You certainly have a way of stating the obvious."

Seven was taken aback. She had been expecting an argument, but the captain had conceded without a fight. For a moment, Seven was unsure how to continue.

"Why?"

Janeway snorted. Perhaps this conversation wouldn't be as bad as she thought. She might just get out of it unscathed. Trying to pull as many of her wits together as she could find she sat up straighter on the couch.

"It's late. I'm tired. I really don't think we need to have this conversation right now."

This was more like it. This is what Seven had been expecting. She would not allow Janeway to get the upper hand. She decided to skip ahead. "Why did you not pronounce Chakotay and I husband and wife?"

Janeway was not expecting this question. She finally looked at Seven, her mouth hanging slightly open in shock. The shock gave way to anger. Who did this woman think she was; violating her privacy, demanding answers to questions that should never be asked? Especially now.

"How dare you! How dare you barge in here, today of all days and ask me that question," Kathryn seethed with anger.

Seven took a deep breath, her chest heaving. "I will leave you alone," she watched as Janeway visibly relaxed at this statement, "as soon as you answer my question."

Kathryn realized that her anger was misplaced; she wasn't upset with Seven, but herself. It was perfectly reasonable for Seven to question her motivation. Janeway's shoulders slumped in defeat. "I can't answer you, Seven. Not now. Especially not today," for once she allowed her emotions to show through as she spoke.

Seven came over to the couch and kneeled in front of Kathryn. "Kathryn, please. If not today then when? You will always find an excuse why you can't discuss this. Your reasons are no longer relevant. Please, I must know," she knew she was begging but she no longer cared. This conversation should have been held years ago.

Kathryn continued to avoid looking at Seven. It was obvious Seven wasn't going to go anywhere until Janeway confessed her sins. And that was something she simply could not do. There was a time she might have been able to; now, it was impossible. Seven should realize that. After five years of arguing, Kathryn knew the patterns the two of them usually fell into. Seven was expecting Kathryn to get angry, while she would remain cool and collected arguing from a point of logic. Kathryn wasn't going to fall into that trap tonight. She decided to turn the tables on the Borg.

"Why did you agree to marry Chakotay?"

Seven was certainly not expecting this question. She swallowed convulsively. The room was dark and smelled of alcohol. Her throat constricted and it felt like she couldn't breathe. She didn't know what to say. After five years of playing cat and mouse with Kathryn Janeway she was finally the mouse. It was not a pleasant feeling. She had promised herself that she would not open herself up to this woman, not until Janeway opened up first. That seemed pointless now. She took another deep breath and decided to do what she had been avoiding for years. Tell the truth.

"Because he loved me. Because I was afraid of being alone. Because I knew that you would never admit how you felt. That you loved me just as much," she paused as her voice broke, "just as much as I love you."

Kathryn finally looked at Seven; tears were coursing down the younger woman's face. Janeway felt as if she were drowning as her own sobs overcame her.

"Oh Seven," she grabbed for the Borg, holding on to her as if she were the only thing keeping Kathryn afloat. She sobbed for what felt like hours and Seven continued to just hold her. Finally, her sobs receded. "Everything is such a mess," Kathryn muttered into Seven's hair.

"Now who has a way of stating the obvious?" Seven whispered.

Janeway drew back in surprise and couldn't suppress the giggle that emerged at Seven's comment. "Was that' was that a joke?"

Seven smiled sadly. "As you said, it is very late and you are tired. I will tuck you into bed and we will talk about it all tomorrow, okay?"

Now that a tentative understanding had been reached, Janeway was reluctant to let Seven go. "Only if you come to bed with me." Seven raised her eyebrow in surprise and Kathryn felt the need to clarify. "Just to sleep. Please, I ' I don't want to be alone. Not anymore."

"As you wish, Kathryn." With that statement Seven scooped up Janeway and carried her into the captain's bedroom carefully tucking her into bed. The blonde removed her footwear and climbed next to the captain who was already half asleep. She curled her body around the older woman.

As she was drifting off to sleep, Kathryn could hear Seven whisper in her ear, "Believe me, you will never be alone again."

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

Kathryn Janeway woke up, unsure of what exactly had awakened her. She reached a hand over to the other pillow and found it empty. She called out to the darkened room, "Seven?" The sound of her voice combined with her increasing ability to see in the dimness of the room helped her realize where she was.

Admiral Janeway sat up and sighed. It was just a dream. Again.

She got out of bed and walked softly to the kitchen to make herself some tea. She knew from experience that she would be unable to get back to sleep tonight.

Moving over to her computer console she checked her messages. There was one from Ensign Paris. According to Miral, the mission was proceeding as planned. She had a meeting with Korath tomorrow and would contact Janeway then. Kathryn smiled. "Things will be different soon," she spoke to herself. Grabbing her tea she went to the living room and curled up on the couch to reflect upon her dream. Staring out the window overlooking the San Francisco bay she called back images of the dream. The anniversary dinner. Seven's wedding. Chakotay's death.

She wasn't surprised where her mind had taken her. It had been a difficult day. She had buried one of her oldest and dearest friends today. Chakotay had been a broken man for so many years, his death was almost a blessing. He had never been the same since Seven's death.

Seven's death. It was so long ago, almost twenty-three years. Despite the fact that Seven had been out of her life almost four times as long as she had been in it, she still managed to affect Janeway. All Kathryn had to do was close her eyes and she was immediately transported back to sickbay on that fateful day. Seven was lying on a biobed, blood everywhere. The Doctor was unable to do anything and Chakotay was holding Seven in his arms, silent tears running down his face. Kathryn had felt like she was intruding and had wanted to leave but couldn't. As Seven was taking her dying breaths she turned her head and gazed directly at Kathryn, their eyes locking. In Seven's eyes Kathryn saw regret and longing. Longing for her.

It was a vision that haunted Janeway. Not a day went by that Kathryn didn't think of Seven, and her nights were filled with dreams of the other woman. But every morning she awoke – alone.

But Kathryn was about to fix that. She had a plan that would change everything. And if she was lucky, she'd never be alone again.

FINIS

[faveficarchive]

A s c e n s i o n (Part 1)

© Penumbra 1999

Legal disclaimer: Don't own 'em, wish I did. Story's mine though and I promise to return them to their places after I've played with them. Well, maybe not Xena... I think I'll keep her.

Explicit content and sex warning: This alt story features consensual sex between two adult women, the works with all anatomical details, with possible BDSM content.

Extreme violence warning: This is Xena. The old Xena. Need I say more? Where the dark lady kicks butt, there's blood and bodyparts so in this story, extreme violence and its aftermaths are depicted in a realistic, graphical way. Torture, yes; sexual violence, no.

Notes: I use only Proper English. Place names are spelled in the official transliteration from Greek so Amphipolis is Amfípolis and so on. This is the third part in a trilogy of sorts that began with Penance and continued with Blood Meridian so I suggest you read those stories first.

My everlasting gratitude must go to my most excellent beta reader, Michal Salat.

It was the coldest morning in living memory.

It came from somewhere far to the north, this wind that delivered the snow and the bitter chill. The icy talons of the merciless wind had raked over the land, leaving behind bare skeletons of trees and a lifeless white landscape in its wake. Over the hills and into the valleys the wind had howled, driving the snow before it with a sound like a dying beast in the claws of a bird of prey.

In one of the innumerable valleys of the Eastern Macedonian high plains, the virginal white snow was stained deep crimson, small lakes of the bright liquid of life marking each spot where a soul had departed its incarnation. The battlefield, a boiling kettle of furious fighting just candlemarks earlier, had settled down as the two armies had hacked one another into oblivion. Now, it was just a field of death, the numerous bodies that littered the ground slowly vanishing under a shroud of snow, with not a sound audible above the keening of the wind. The bony black limbs of trees that reached into the murky white vastness of the sky now seemed an eerily prescient image of the fate of those who had taken to the field the night before.

The wailing of the wind woke her, or perhaps it was the shrill cries of the airborne scavengers circling high above her in their quest for sustenance, their black eyes as cold and unfeeling as the air.

But inside of her it was colder still.

"Gabrielle..."

Still the name rang on her lips, her first thought as she woke every morning, and her last prayer before she left this world for Morpheus' realm. Now, as wakefulness robbed her of the peace of oblivion, that name, pronounced so quietly not even the wind caught it, ignited the familiar flame of anguish inside her. The sharp nausea made her gut twist as, with great effort, she pushed herself up off the snow.

"Mother of Zeus," the Conqueror murmured as her eyes swept over the plain of death. As far as she could see in the waning snowstorm, small mounds of white swelled from the ground, marking a fallen warrior or his horse.

Not one of her warriors had survived. Turning slowly around in a circle, she sought out any sign of life -- a movement, a sound -- but the only thing she found was a large, twitching black form that emitted a quiet whining sound.

"Androdameios, no..." the Conqueror sighed and went to kneel beside the big cat, her bloodied hands gently gliding over equally blood-soaked black fur. The panther was taking quick, shallow breaths, the wound in his side welling up with fresh warm blood with every exhalation; he was beyond saving now, the light of life dimming from his emerald eyes. Pulling out her dagger, she placed it over the cat's heart and, with a deep breath, drove it home. "I'm sorry, Androdameios," she whispered, feeling the last hot breath on her palm, before the panther stilled for good. "I'm sorry."

Xena's blood mingled with the panther's, the hot liquid steaming in the cold air. She was bleeding from innumerable small cuts and nicks scattered over her forearms and shoulders, wherever an angry blade had sliced through her cloak and leathers. A long but superficial gash decorated her arm, the wound crusted with old blood and fluid; the whole limb had gone numb from exposure to the elements. As she moved around, the wound started to throb and she grabbed her tricep, pulling the edges of the gash together.

It was a marvel, she mused, that she had any blood to bleed -- so hollow was her heart.

"You would understand, Androdameios," Xena said to the panther, her voice hoarse from the battle. Pulling out the blade again, she slid it through the wound and down the tick torso before pulling the two sides apart and efficiently skinning the carcass.

She had left her horse in the hands of her stable master before the battle broke, and now Pyrgomache was nowhere in sight. Still squeezing her wounded arm, shivering uncontrollably from cold and blood loss, the Conqueror wrapped the sticky pelt around herself and bowed her head to the wind. Her pace was strong and sure as she headed towards the western ridge and the location of her base camp.

The hooves missed her head by mere inches but she refused to flinch.

"Whoa, boy! Steady!"

The man struggled with reins, leaning back and attempting to control the horse and cart with the sheer power of his bulk. The hulking monster of a horse, a dun stallion, reared again, vainly fighting his pinions. It took the man a few moments to get the horse to calm down, but eventually it did, snorting hostilely towards Xena.

"Good day, traveller," the driver said, his breath forming small, white clouds in the air. "Where are you headed?"

She had walked for candlemarks, down from the plains of death that were once again the domain of hungry beasts eking their living from the landscape. The air was still thin, the sun just a small circle of gold in the clear blue sky, and she was exhausted. It had been two days since she had slept for more than a fraction of a candlemark or had anything decent to eat -- at her base camp she had found yet another scene of carnage, the corpses of her rear guard slumped in various caricatures of suffering and terror on the ground. She had found her stable master, a manure fork through her chest, but her warhorse was nowhere to be found.

"South," Xena answered tonelessly and wrapped the black, furry hide tighter around herself. The horse was still edgy, whinnying quietly and turning his head, trying to get a good look at her. She lifted her hand and patted the horse's muzzle, touching the flaring nostrils gently. Her skin was of a peculiar coppery shade, the blood staining her fingernails and the creases of her hands a deeper crimson, and the stallion was obviously fearful of the primal, dangerous scent.

"Shhh..."

"His name is Aellus," the man said. "If you're heading due south, I can quicken your journey. I am Phineas of Ovridios, heading home, and the journey is long if travelling alone." He graced his statement with a small smile.

"Phineas of Ovridios," the Conqueror nodded back and patted the horse once more before circling round the animal and pulling herself up to sit next to the young man. She glanced at his big, paw-like hands, the deep purple-black half moons that decorated his nails and the numerous small, thin marks of gleaming scar tissue. "You're a blacksmith, if I'm not mistaken."

He threw Xena a sharp look, observing for the first time the razor-sharp intelligence that was evident in those eyes -- eyes of a pale blue even chillier than the winter sky. The woman he had at first taken for a lone traveller, perhaps on a pilgrimage through the volatile, violent area of Eastern Macedonia, was certainly not an ordinary vagabond. The animal skin covering her was freshly skinned and untanned, still smelling strongly of the beast that had previously worn it, and the rest of her was hidden inside a thick, ragged cloak.

"You have keen eyes, stranger."

"Yes, indeed," Xena said and turned her head towards the road ahead, not volunteering any further information.

The man clicked his tongue and the cart jerked forward, the heavy wooden wheels grinding into the frozen earth.

She was beyond caring, beyond concern for her own health. She fought with an emptiness of purpose, merely out of habit; killing was what came naturally to her, as automatic as breathing or the beating of her heart. She drowned her pain in the pain of others, the anguished song of her soul, cold as stone, overwhelmed by the wailing of the doomed in the fields of death.

Macedonia was on fire, and she had been the glowing ember, the divine spark, that had ignited the tinder. All through the fleeting autumn and subsequent harsh winter, she had scourged through the north of Greece, fighting off either the barbarians that poured across the border, or the dissidents among her own people. Where she didn't find old enemies, she had made new ones, just for the sake of letting her blade taste fresh blood.

Her reason for living was no more. It was as simple as that.

She'd once had a reason to seek out peace for her people, a motive for uniting all the unruly, bickering poleis under one banner, be it with brute force or with the sheer cunning of her mind -- she'd wanted peace because it was good for her Gabrielle. She wanted to give her beloved freedom to blossom, the time to see the beauty of her work and the justice in her rule. But all that had been for naught; no longer could she find any reason to strive for tranquility in her land.

Her blood ran bitter in her veins. Her Gabrielle had been the sole barrier between her mind and the deep nothingness of madness, and now, without her, she was sinking into the lake of darkness.

"Ovridios."

Xena followed the pointing finger and true enough, on the horizon narrow columns of smoke rose towards the sky.

"Thank you, blacksmith Phineas," the Conqueror said. "Your courtesy will be rewarded."

"All I ask for is Hera to slap some sense into her unruly son," the man replied, wry humour in his voice as he gestured in the general direction of Mount Olympus.

Xena nodded, not wishing for him to continue along that thread of thought. Compared to her, the God of War was a feeble and unimaginative fool; her mortal flesh had perpetrated the deeds he referred to, not some divine power.

The strong tang of smoke and beasts of burden clung in the back of her mouth, the bitterness of it tickling her throat, which had suffered already from days of shouting in the cold climate. A few goats traipsed down the main street, an uneven lane of frozen mud and animal dung. Ovridios was obviously a poor village, victimised by the raiders gallivanting around the countryside, as a few charred roofs and collapsed huts clearly indicated. But for most part, the small houses were clean and the goats looked well-fed, prosperity stemming not from fortuitous conditions but from strength of spirit.

The blacksmith pulled up his cart at his house, the open front of the smithy like a black maw. The forge was silent, the bellows lying deflated and sooty on the ground. A scattering of old horseshoes, waiting to be smelted and worked into new shapes, spoke of the important role Phineas played in the everyday life of the village. Hopping down from the cart, he removed the horse's tack and nodded towards the door.

"My wife is inside. Broth and a piece of hard bread is all we can offer but..."

The Conqueror inclined her head, and even dredged up a small smile. "Broth and a spot of warmth is all I desire, blacksmith."

The broth was on the thin side, the strips of meat floating in it tough and stringy, but it was nourishment. Inside the small house attached to the smithy, it was warm and the air was stuffy, the gnarled logs crackling in the hearth, giving out a sharp-scented smoke that stung her eyes. Xena drained the last of the warm liquid and set her bowl down on the table, letting her eyes roam around the small room.

Phineas was obviously a man who took great pride in the talent of his hands. Woodcarvings adorned the two windows of the house, impish curls and tendrils above the small panes made of pig's bladder skin; the legs of the narrow cot at the far end were fashioned in the shape of a lion's paws. Everything was lovingly cared for but well-worn, and their poverty was evident in the threadbare clothes worn by the smith and his wife, a small, plump woman with jolly eyes. Suddenly ashamed, the Conqueror looked down into her bowl, and at the blood-encrusted hands that were curved around it.

She was warm for the first time in days, except for her heart, whose stony centre was as cold as the frozen earth. How dare I, she asked of herself, and rubbed her hand around the bowl, feeling the texture of the carved wood beneath her callused palms. How dare I come here, eat their food and enjoy what little they have, when I am the one responsible for taking away so much of it already?

She entwined her hands, leaning on the table with her elbows, and laid her forehead on her sore knuckles. Only now she allowed herself to acknowledge the bone-deep exhaustion that had pursued her for days -- no, for moons -- on end. So tired. She was just so very tired.

"You carry the smell of hard days on the road, stranger," Kepa, the smith's wife, said. She kept calling their visitor 'stranger' because she had not offered her name. A peculiar traveller, this one is, she thought and retrieved the bowl from the stranger's hands. "Perhaps you would appreciate a bath?"

"Most gracious of you," the stranger replied. Her voice was low and unobtrusive, very toneless at the moment, but Kepa had a feeling it was a voice more used to commanding than making idle talk. Arresting, throaty, made to deliver the parlance of assurance itself.

Rising with a quiet sigh, Kepa went to the corner and hefted two large buckets of water from the barrel, pouring them into a cauldron she placed over the hearth. The flames licked the blackened metal with great glee and soon enough, small bubbles rose to the surface and wandered towards the edges of the cauldron. A cloud of mist rose around her as she struggled to carry it to the bathtub.

"Let me help you with that."

Kepa nearly jumped out of her skin at the voice, so near her ear. How the traveller had managed to sneak up so close was beyond her.

The steaming water rushed into the tub with a mighty splash and, after a dose of cold water to temper it, the bath was ready. Kepa busied herself with putting away the buckets while keeping a wary eye on their guest. While the woman had been subdued and passive enough, the times they lived were dangerous; no-one warranted complete trust. But this one seemed complacent enough, wounded and weary. The heavy fur that had been draped over the stranger's shoulders was folded on the bench, and the stranger gave the pelt a gentle pat, pausing as if to remember something. The moment was obviously a private one and Kepa felt almost ashamed for intruding upon it.

The torn grey cloak parted and upon seeing what was revealed, Kepa straightened. She had thought the coppery hue of her skin to be the dirt of the reddish earth that was common in the southern fields, but the pieces of the puzzle clicked together when she saw the gore-encrusted armour inside the cloak, and the two swords that the woman carried on her hips.

Blood. That's blood, Kepa told herself and instinctively backed up a step. Why did Phineas have to go to work just now? The stranger looked as if her last bath had been in ichor; the curious crimson sheen was dotted with numerous dark, angry cuts, and as the woman turned, Kepa blanched as she saw the long gash on her arm. The sides of the wound had curved outward and the trench between was but a mass of near-black gore.

"You are hurt, stranger," she said, her voice trembling. She swallowed and steadied herself, determined not to show any frailty or fear.

The stranger paused in her task, holding her breastplate in front of her. To the wonderment of the smith's wife, a sad smile came onto the woman's lips.

"Nothing worse than what I bear beneath this," she said cryptically, and hefted the breastplate over her head. Her moves were terse and efficient, the pieces of her armour coming off in an almost ritualised sequence, carried out by the visceral memory of muscle rather than conscious though.

What was revealed under the layers of skilfully crafted bronze and thick leather was a woman of a quality Kepa had never seen. She had heard tell of women warriors but never seen one; this stranger was just as she had imagined them to be: wide shoulders, taut skin stretched over well-defined muscles, limbs long and limber. The woman moved with innate grace, the shifting shadows and light upon her body fluid and ethereal. What Kepa had not expected were the many silvery lines of scar tissue that marred the otherwise smooth skin. A few dark lines were criss-crossed among them, new additions to the already vast assortment she sported.

The water in the tub was tinted red as the visitor lowered her body into it. The colour ran like a dye from the stranger's skin and into the water, the pale pink waves cascading over her head and down her torso as Kepa poured more water over her. The gore and clotted blood washed from her head, leaving behind a sleek mass of hair as black as sin itself. While in the bath, the stranger took a scrap of cloth, dipped it into the water and started scrubbing her leather garments, softening the layers of encrusted blood. Kepa sat on the bench, watching the process with fascination, trying very hard not to look at the two long swords that leaned against the seat next to her.

"You are a warrior, then, stranger?" There was, she now realised, something so oddly familiar about the length of raven hair and the high, angular cheekbones. And those eyes. Most definitely the eyes.

The pale blue orbs, like two chips of ice, looked up from their task and the stranger nodded slightly.

A chatterbox, obviously, Kepa thought and leaned against the wall. The smell of the strange fur was strong and she touched it gingerly. It was too big to be the hide of any regular forest-dwelling game and the hair was too short to be a bear's, but whatever it was, it was luxurious and exotic. Brushing her hand over the stranger's cloak, she noted the way it was reduced almost to tatters, blood staining whatever cloth was left. Her eyes shifted to the warrior sitting in her bathtub, to the tired trembling of her muscles and the dark half moons under her eyes, and suddenly she felt very grateful for her share in life; at least she didn't have to risk death by blade every day to earn her bread and home.

"Your cloak is very badly damaged."

"Yes," the stranger said, her eyes not leaving the bracer she was cleaning.

"I have..." Kepa said, rising from her seat and going to rummage through a chest at the foot of their bed. With a satisfied grunt, she came up with a bundle of dark cloth. "This belongs to Phineas. It's in need of a bit of mending, but it's in far better shape than -" She pointed to the shredded garment on the bench.

"No, I cannot take what is yours," the stranger said, but Kepa waved her protests away. "All that you have endured, the blood you have shed for this land, is enough payment."

The stranger nodded, a sad enigmatic smile gracing her lips, as she rose from the tub and vaulted over the edge before dressing. The newly-cleaned black leather and softly gleaming brass armour made her look ...larger, somehow. Kepa felt the personality of the person standing before her, the overbearing, even suffocating, disposition of the tall woman so strong that her mental image of someone commanding an army was strengthened. If she were a commander, which she most certainly was, she was the sort who tasted first blood -- one who rode in front of the army and was the first one into the fire.

"Thank you of everything, Kepa of Ovridios," the stranger said and accepted the offered cloak. Bundling it under an arm along with her swords, the laid a heavy hand on Kepa's shoulder. The squeeze was strong and Kepa had to crane her neck to meet the stranger's eyes. "May life be propitious to you and your husband," she said, before turning abruptly and leaving the house.

All that remained of the stranger was a scent of something dark and primal, and a gleaming gold coin on the table. Blinking, Kepa picked up the circle of precious metal and turned it over.

Though the eyes in the portrait were golden instead of blue, they were the same eyes, with the same empty look in them.

"Who is that?

The blacksmith turned and squinted into the distance. Sweat was running into his eyes from the heat of the forge. "That is Simon," he said and spat onto the ground.

Xena's eyebrow rose. "You hold a grudge?"

"He holds one," the blacksmith said and set the hasp back on the anvil. Sparks flew as he drove his hammer angrily down upon the glowing metal. "Against life."

The Conqueror watched the man called Simon, her eyes narrowing. He was attempting to control a jet-black horse who looked unmistakably familiar. Storm clouds gathered in Xena's eyes, her posture becoming more erect.

"His life must not be very dear to him."

Phineas set the half-finished hasp into the forge again and wiped off his sweat with his forearm. "He has no honour," he said quietly. "Makes his living on the misfortune of others -- pillaging battlefields, robbing travellers."

"Yes," Xena smiled darkly, her eyes still on the man in the distance. "But Fate is about to have Her revenge."

Against the whiteness of snow, the fan of red teardrops that she had flicked off her sword reminded her of a peacock's tail, the colours similarly brash. Cleaning the last of the still-hot blood from the blade with two fingers, she re-sheathed the sword and hoisted herself up into the saddle.

"Hello, old girl," she murmured and patted Pyrgomache's strong, veiny neck. The mare whickered in response, throwing her head. The horse was nervous by nature, her gigantic bulk belying the agility and explosive power she possessed.

It was her tack, here on her horse, the saddle still warm from the thief's seat. Twisting, Xena could see the razor-sharp lines of whip strikes on Pyrgomache's flanks, and her blood boiled. The man should have suffered far more but, alas, her justice had been as swift and effective as always; now Simon lay in the gutter, smiling through his throat.

"Tried to whip you into submission, hmm?" the Conqueror queried quietly. Pyrgomache sidestepped and whinnied in reply, and the Conqueror grabbed the reins, calming the beast. "With very little luck, I assume," she continued, fighting the fidgety horse. The mare eventually responded to the firm, familiar hand, quieting down, and then they were off.

They rode through the long day and into the night, even after the waning light had bowed to Hyperion's spawn and the stars. The sky was a velvety shade of dark indigo, the moon a third of a way through its arc, when the Conqueror finally reined in her already foam-flecked charger. Pyrgomache replied sluggishly, the hard beat of her hooves picking up clouds of dust from the road, the sand silvery and sparkling in the pale light. Finally, she slowed down to a canter so that Xena could steer her to the side of the road, where a plain opened between two distant treelines.

After giving the winded horse a good rubdown and seeing to the lash marks, Xena settled down, opting not to make a fire, but instead rolling open her sleeping furs in the middle of the wind-swept opening. Settling down on the furs, she gazed up at the quiet stars, the worldaround her ethereally silent as though it were holding its breath. She could hear Pyrgomache pace around her, the massive bulk of the horse ghostly in the midnight penumbra, and she could hear the wind wail through distant trees, slithering between branches and stalks of grass, before screaming across the field towards her, ruffling her hair and making the hide around her undulate. In the quiet, she thought of her Macedonian campaign.

The battle of the previous day had not gone well. It had not started providentially, and neither had it seen the Conqueror hold the whip hand in the end. The opposing side, barbarians driven from the north by the unusually harsh winter and the approaching Huns, were hungry and desperate. They had fought fiercely and what they had lacked in skill and battle tactics they made up in ferociousness and sheer numbers. It had not been at all elegant, not the refined art that she preferred to practice. Winning by cunning rather than the blade was always more honourable. No, it had ultimately been only about survival -- war reduced to its most primal, fundamental elements.

The news of my presumed demise has probably reached the capital already, she thought bitterly, and dug out a needle and a length of gut thread from her pack. The wound on her arm was throbbing again, agitated by the hard ride, and it was bleeding. The thread hissed quietly every time she threaded it through her skin.

Rumours travelled faster than the breath of Aeolus, and while she had been near death this time, she had been closer before. But the lack of reinforcements she had requested, and the fact that she had not seen any troops heading north during her ride, spoke volumes to her. In Korinthos, blood had been shed almost certainly, and like a pack of carrion-devouring jackals, the people closest to her would be clambering for power, even sooner than her carcass would have cooled.

Biting off the extraneous thread after she had knotted the stitching, the Conqueror set the needle down and sighed. Not even the winds shifted with such volatility as did the reins of power. The life of a dragonfly was an eternity, the state of the seas immutable compared to the swiftness with which fidelity transformed itself to betrayal. One sign of weakness, one wrong word, one false, malicious rumour was all it took; kingdoms had fallen for less than a measure of jealousy, and for no more than a drop of bad blood.

"And what have I now, to show of my power?" the Conqueror asked of the wailing wind and of the frost-numbed grass, her words a mere whisper. Turning her hands in her lap, in the sallow moonlight she could still see the complex map of scars on her skin, and the dark blood under her fingernails where the bath had not cleansed them. Blood, that was what she had had for all her power. Blood, pain and more blood.

She had seen so many men succumb to her blade, seen the last look of agony on their faces before the oblivion took them away. Felt the sickly, thick resistance of flesh around her blade as she parted muscle from bone, life from body. The warm, viscous liquid of life had flowed over her hands and arms in crimson waterfalls, and she had bathed in it, breathed its essence, felt the strong, coppery taste on her tongue. The faces came to haunt her in sleep, but she had long since gotten used to them; to her, painting her masterpiece in blood and pain was as natural as stroking clay into the shape of a wine jug was to a potter. Her art was the application of terror, her talent in the ruthlessness with which her hands imparted it.

A dark shadow detached from the darker ones around it and came forward, the shuffle of shod hooves soft against the grass.

"Too quiet for your tastes?" the Conqueror murmured and, as Pyrgomache's raven head dipped lower, she laid her palm on the noble, elongated bridge of the mare's nose. The sensitive nostrils under her hand twitched in response and the horse gently nudged Xena's shoulder with her head. Brushing her hand over what remained of Androdameios, the Conqueror smiled wanly. "Do you know what that means?"

Pyrgomache whickered quietly in response, turning her head so that one large, dark eye was aimed at Xena. The Conqueror's level gaze held eternal sadness.

"It's just you and me, girl."

It took the Conqueror two days to get clear of the Macedonian plains and reach a more temperate climate. The forests had retained some of their lushness even in the face of winter -- a mere whisper of the splendour they displayed in warmer seasons, but much less monochrome than the wintry expanse of land she had left.

The roads were quiet and none of the fellow travellers she met dared approach her; rather, they gave her a wide berth, skirting to the other edge of the road upon the first sight of the lone warrior on her monster of a horse. The woman's melancholy mien and otherwise dark countenance was enough to discourage attempts at friendly chatter. And so Xena rode in solitude, her only companions the pensive thoughts in her mind and the silent warhorse.

Pyrgomache was obviously tiring from the days of hard riding, her coat, usually so luxurious, now dull and sticky under a layer of grime and lather. As for Xena, she felt the ache of exhaustion all the way to the marrow of her bones; she had not had a decent meal in the days after she had left Ovridios.

"You want to make a stop in the next village, girl?" the Conqueror murmured, scratching her mount behind one twitching black ear.

Pyrgomache twisted her head, whickering quietly but not breaking her stride.

"A brushing for you and a bath for me, then," Xena said, and steered the horse towards the thin columns of smoke she could see in the distance.

In a candlemark, she was on the outskirts the village. Riding along a small brook and through the village gates, she was struck by a vague sense of premonition, and of remembrance. It was as if...she knew this place, somehow. Perhaps it was a memory from the brash days of her youth, when she tore through every hamlet and small town in this part of Hellas, vainly seeking to calm her anger by plundering villages such as this one. But that was ten winters ago; to these people she was but a legend now, a ghost with no face.

Xena reined Pyrgomache to a halt in front of the only inn that looked respectable. An old, low building that yawed slightly in the wind, it didn't look very promising, but the scent of food that wafted from within the establishment was irresistible.

A balding, middle-aged man wearing an apron rushed out, grabbing the horse's reins as the traveller dismounted.

"Evening, traveller. I hope the gods smiled on your journey?"

"Phoebe was my companion and she was benevolent enough," Xena replied; the night sky had been cloudless all through her ride, the round face of the moon watching over her solitary travel. She grabbed her kit and turned to face the innkeeper. "The best for her and a platter of whatever you're serving for dinner, if you please."

The inn was quiet, with only a few other customers scattered around the large room. A stocky young woman -- the innkeeper's daughter, Xena guessed, for the family looks ran strong -- brought her a large slice of boar and a cup of mulled cider. She was halfway through her dinner when the innkeeper wandered closer and pretended to wipe clean the tables surrounding hers. When he began cleaning the same table for the third time, Xena set down her dagger and turned his way.

"What?" she growled.

He jumped slightly but dropped the rag, fiddling nervously with the hem of his apron nervously. "I do not mean to intrude upon your meal but...you come from afar, traveller?"

The Conqueror sighed, momentarily debating barking at him to mind his own business, but deciding to be courteous, if only to be left alone sooner. "Yes."

"We have heard of news of big battles...barbarians...great disturbance."

"Yes."

The innkeeper's brows drew together. This guest was certainly less than forthcoming.

"Is it true that the barbarians have invaded and are heading...here?"

"No."

"How can you be so sure?" the innkeeper said, clearly puzzled. "Did you fight against the army of that daughter of Ares?"

Xena's ears pricked up and she shifted her eyes from the cooked boar to the innkeeper. "Ares' daughter?"

"Yes -- she's the worst of all his bastard offspring," the innkeeper hissed, clearly warming to his subject. He spat, repugnance wrinkling his face. "She is no mortal, I tell you."

Xena nodded and leaned back, her head resting against the wall as her eyelids drooped almost closed. She hummed, urging the innkeeper to continue. The man perched on the edge of her table and leaned in conspiratorially, not noticing the viper-like look aimed at him across the table.

"Did you know that she breathes fire? And a soldier on his way from the front who stopped here on his way to his home village swore that he saw that gods-damned woman eat the hearts of her enemies," he said, pursing his lips in a gesture of disgust. "We have lost many of our own -- of our best -- to that soulless bitch," he continued, clearly inviting Xena to encourage him, which she did with a nod.

The innkeeper straightened, his eyes focused somewhere above the Conqueror's head. "There was a girl from here -- a girl just blossoming into young womanhood, a thing of beauty indeed. Her mind was as bright as the fields of flowers in Elysia, her heart as pure as spring water. Many winters ago, she was stolen from us...and sold to the slavers as that woman rode through here and destroyed our homes.

"During the last harvest, she returned -- on her own, no less. But she was not the same girl any more, no...she was marked, tainted by the evil of that inbred bacchae who dares call herself Conqueror."

"Marked, you say?" Xena's voice remained silky and smooth, like oil on water, betraying nothing of the sudden turmoil inside her.

"Marked, yes," the innkeeper said, nodding enthusiastically. It was not often that he got visitors from outside the immediate environs, and gossiping was one of his great vices. "Marked by the signet of the bastard woman..."

"I see," the Conqueror said and rose, her hands shaking from both rage and trepidation. Steadying herself, she paced around the table to stand in front of the man. She pulled out a dagger from her gauntlet, hefting it by the blade. "And was the mark -" she said and lifted the dagger, "- like this?"

Upon the dagger, where the gleaming blade met the hand guard, was her sigil -- an X inside a circle -- fashioned skilfully out of bronze and black enamel. The innkeeper's eyes darted from the mark to Xena and back.

"Yes, it is. Whose dagger is this?" he asked, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead.

"Mine," Xena purred, a slow, dangerous smile forming on her lips but never reaching her eyes. She flipped the dagger around in her hand and pressed the point to the innkeeper's jugular. The tip pricked his skin and a small pearl of blood ran down the blade. "Now, we are going to have a little chat, you and I."

Gabrielle...

The name was fire in her veins. As she ran along the village's main street, her heart hammering in her chest, the word, the sweet name of her beloved rang in her mind, over and over. She remembered not the bitterness of Gabrielle's sudden departure, nor the pain she had carried with her all these moons; there was, for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, something akin to joy inside her. She would see her love once more, and that was all that mattered.

With his last breath, the innkeeper had revealed that the bard was being kept in the village reeve's house, and that was where Xena was running. Bursting through the door, she was greeted by the sight of the reeve and his family seated around the table, having their evening meal.

"What is the meaning of this?!" the man bellowed, after hastily swallowing the bit of venison he had been chewing. He got halfway up from his chair before Xena closed a hand around his throat, throwing him against the wall and pinioning him there.

"Gabrielle -- where is she?" Xena hissed, her face inches from the reeve's. "Tell me, or by the gods I will glut the maw of death with the blood of your children," she said, shaking him like a rat in the jaws of a terrier.

The reeve had the wherewithal to pale at the utterly deadly look that she fixed on him, reinforcing the promise behind the words. His eyes darted around, frantically seeking help, but his family was frozen in place, the eyes of his children wide as tin platters.

"Who...are you?" he managed. The hand around his throat tightened perceptibly.

"I," Xena said, leaning even closer, "am her rightful owner."

Understanding glittered in the reeve's eyes, warring with a sudden flare of anger. But he was wise enough a man not to play courageous in the face of death; this woman would find her soon enough, whether he divulged the information or not. "In the cellar, out back," he choked out.

The stairs that led beneath the barn were narrow and rickety, groaning under the Conqueror's weight as she rushed down the steps. She met a sturdy locked door and unsheathed one of her swords, driving the heavy blade into a hinge. Sparks flew and the metal parted, as did the other, and the door swung aside.

Inside it was dark, with only a few slivers of sunlight streaming through small gaps in the foundation of the barn, barely illuminating the cramped space and the dance of particles in the close, mouldy cellar. Xena drew a breath of the rank, foul-smelling air and crouched to fit through the doorway. Her eyes adjusted to the dimness quickly and her sword swept through the rays of light, throwing glittering, nervous reflections on the walls.

"Who's there?"

Though it was hoarse and pained, Xena recognised the voice instantly. Her heart missed a beat and she turned toward the far corner whence the words had emanated.

"It's...it's me."

A shadow moved in the corner, and her precious Gabrielle came into view. Her...betrayer, the true source and cause of her pain. Anger flared into life within the Conqueror, her knuckles going white as she squeezed the hilt of her sword. The joy had been but a momentary diversion; the agony dulled but not dead.

The figure rose to a crouch. "Xena...?"

"Yes," the Conqueror hissed, stepping closer and bringing her arm around so that the sword pointed directly at Gabrielle. The long blade shook with her rage. "Me. The one you deceived. Double-crossed. You," she said, the word a low growl, "you made me what I am now."

"Yes," Gabrielle whispered and stood up. Even in the sparse light, the pallor of her skin, stretched taut over her cheekbones, could clearly be seen. But her eyes had lost none of their fire, and now they blazed with courage and desperation. "But I can say the same of you."

Only then did the Conqueror take a look around. It was a cellar indeed, but one purposely designed for the storage of people. Her dark brows drew together. "Why are you here?"

"Because of what I am," Gabrielle stated simply and bowed her head. "Because of what I was."

"And what was that?"

"Yours."

The single word, spoken so quietly, shattered the air.

"I was yours," Gabrielle repeated and turned around, lowering the thin, crudely patched cloak she wore. Her once-strong, muscular back now bore a collection of bruises across the pale, parchment-dry skin, and on the shoulderblade was a large circular wound, badly treated and clearly infected. It was the spot where she had borne her mark: the Conqueror's signet.

"What have they done to you?" Xena queried, her voice thick.

"They tried to cut it out of me -- what they thought made me yours," Gabrielle replied and turned. The green of her eyes was a dark, muddy colour. "To them, I was your slave, a body to be owned and traded. By erasing your mark, they thought they could erase all that you were to me."

"And what...?" Xena began, but couldn't finish the question. Again, she felt cold, but for different reasons than before; the sword trembled so badly in her hand that she almost dropped it, as the blood drained from her extremities.

"My life."

As simple as that.

"You were my life and my soul, Xena," Gabrielle said and stepped closer, gently pushing the sword aside. "But..." she began, laying a hand hesitantly over the dark bronze of the Conqueror's armour, "I wasn't your soul. Your soul is darkness."

Xena laid a hand over the smaller one on her chest, her heart aching from the first contact with Gabrielle's flesh. It was an overwhelming feeling, her head swimming as her skin recognised and remembered.

"I could not reign in here."

The Conqueror knelt, her sword meeting the ground with a muted thud as she wrapped both arms around the slender figure of her beloved. She breathed in the moist, dull scent of the earth on Gabrielle's cloak, and the warmth that the body in her arms emanated, feeling small hands settle upon her hair. Oh Gabrielle...you are so very wrong.

"I know I betrayed you," the bard said, her voice rough. "But I could not stand what was becoming of my soul...and the destruction being wrought in my name."

The hands entangled with her hair, brushing the silken, smooth strands gently, almost reverentially, before Gabrielle joined her on the floor. The Conqueror gathered her into her arms, squeezing the slim body close against herself.

It felt so good to hold her, giving slight easement to her painful yearning. It was her Gabrielle once more, and the feeling of belonging now blossoming in her heart was testament to the falsity of Gabrielle's statement.

"Come with me. We have much to talk about."

"She has to be removed," Etor whispered, too loudly for Saba who discreetly motioned him to silence.

"Later," she whispered and turned back towards Tyra, the council elder who was having a shouting match with Erasmus.

The Conqueror's First was not a woman of fickle mind, on the contrary; she had attained her position by out-surviving all the other commanders who held the post before her. The job held many dangers, the least of them certainly not being the Conqueror's capricious nature. Many had tried to outmanoeuvre the Destroyer of Nations but had paid dearly for their mistake.

"Titus confirmed that he saw her body!"

"And where is Titus, then?" asked Erasmus calmly, unperturbed by Tyra's heated tone.

"Not here, obviously," Tyra replied, clenching her teeth. She was a woman hardened by the years, her eyes dark and unforgiving as flint, and she was clearly losing her patience with the ever-sceptical, elderly general.

The people of Korinthos were blissfully unaware of the play of power underway inside the royal palace. Ever since the news of the Conqueror's demise had reached the capital six nights ago, the war council had been in turmoil. What had been a collection of brilliant people, their talents and minds as diverse as their histories, had been reduced to a bunch of bickering backstabbers in the absence of the Conqueror. The council had been the ruler's right arm and the extension of her genius, but without her guidance, its members were lost.

And so the game is underway, Saba thought, already smelling the blood in the air between Erasmus and Tyra. Recently one of the council's youngest members, a young captain called Milleius, had mysteriously disappeared, and the First had a hunch he wouldn't be the last one to do so. Power as absolute as that which the Conqueror held -- had held -- was beyond tempting; it was downright intoxicating.

She herself didn't know what to believe and thus took a carefully neutral stand on the issue, letting the others fight for succession. While the seal on the message under dispute had been genuine enough, Saba was troubled by the fact that Titus himself had not delivered it. There were also rumours of Romans funding the barbarian upsurgencies along the northern border, the same that the Conqueror had ridden off to calm, be it with sword or with the weight of her word...although Saba suspected that words had not much chance of succeeding this time, the Conqueror's eyes had held nothing but deadly intent.

Saba cleared her throat.

"Do you wish to take a stand, ma'am?" Erasmus asked, the irony in his voice delicate.

"No. I have a suggestion," she said firmly, halting Tyra's impending protest with a raised hand. "Hear me out. I propose the middle route...let us wait for a few days more for Titus. He could just be delayed. If he is not here in, say, ten nights, we will consider the situation again, with firmer footing on the issue."

After a few half-hearted protests, the council agreed to her proposal, if only because the time was past the witching hour. The council dispersed soon after, Etor gesturing for Saba to linger. Finally, they were the only people left in the great hall.

"Excellent work, Saba," he said, a small smile on his lips. "More time for us to remove the others who stand before us."

He has to go, Saba thought, but dredged up a smile.

"Yes. Soon."

"Soon," he confirmed and unconsciously touched the hilt of his dagger. "I have already arranged the assassins."

Saba nodded and turned to leave. Soon, Etor...even you will feel the blade most intimately.

The brook gurgled gently through small rapids, the air otherwise quiet. Pyrgomache was drinking from the clear water a few yards downstream, and Xena watched the mare's noble head dip down and come back up, small beads of water glistening on her muzzle. She was a thing of beauty, that horse.

Behind her, Gabrielle was attacking her small reserve of food, wolfing down the hard bread and dried venison. The Conqueror herself was not hungry, and she could not bear to see what had become of her lover; Gabrielle had been a woman of bright, healthy composure but now she was half a wraith, her skin almost translucent.

"Would you like to have some?"

At her words, Xena turned and offered a wan smile with the shake of her head. "No. I'm not hungry."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Gabrielle," the Conqueror said, relishing the familiar feel of the name rolling off her tongue. It felt wonderful to say it with a different meaning; for moons, it had been either a prayer or a curse, but now, it was simply a beautiful name.

When Gabrielle had finished the last of the hard meat, she straightened in her cross-legged position, her eyes still not meeting Xena's. To the Conqueror, she looked so young and frail, almost a child, but with the eyes of an ancient.

A grimace briefly crossed the bard's face.

"Your wound."

"Yes," Gabrielle whispered and took a deep breath, almost as if she was unsure of how to formulate her next words. Xena nodded, understanding, and dug out her healer's kit.

"Turn around."

Gabrielle obeyed, letting her cloak slide from her shoulders. In the cold air, sudden trails of goosebumps appeared and Xena laid her hands over the narrow shoulders, making Gabrielle shiver.

She worked in silence, in fear of letting her anger cloud her tone when she needed her words to be soothing -- anger not for the woman before her, but towards those who had injured her so unjustly. What had been a sign of love and protection, the only pure and good thing in the Conqueror's life, had been branded as something brutal and low, its meaning perverted and distorted, until people had seen in it only what they wanted to see. And as always, people saw the worst, assumed the most loathsome things.

The skin had been scraped, not removed -- a procedure that under normal circumstances would have healed in mere weeks. But the conditions in that cellar had obviously not been conductive to healing, Xena deduced, as she spread the ointment on the wound.

"How long has this been like this?"

The tendons in Gabrielle's neck corded as she turned her head, trying to swallow her scream of pain. "At least two moons...I'm not sure. Days ran together down there."

"It's infected."

"I know," Gabrielle responded, turning to face forward again.

Xena's hands had lost none of their talent; with the same infinite patience and feather-light touch she showed handling her sword, the Conqueror had loved her, had felt her, and was now, once more, healing her. It was infinitely reassuring; ever since Gabrielle had departed, she had felt herself half a woman, missing the presence of her love, the feeling of safety and calm that permeated her environs. The warmth of the body behind her was a balm to both her ragged flesh and her tattered soul.

Though she had not wanted to admit it, and could not have allowed herself before now, she had missed her. The Destroyer of Nations.

"Gods, Xena..." Gabrielle said, her voice suddenly tired. As she turned, the dark half-moons under her eyes were clearly visible, a stark contrast to the sickly pallor of her face. "I have no words to..." She swalloed hard. "I...betrayed you."

The intensity of Xena's enigmatic gaze upon her made Gabrielle feel uneasy. Deciphering the mind that operated behind those oceans of pale blue was a sheer impossibility; the bard could only guess at the depth of emotion from what was visible and from experience, she knew that it was a mere shadow of what truly lay in the Conqueror's heart.

Quietly, almost hesitantly, Xena took one of the bard's hands into her own larger one. "No worse than the way I betrayed myself," she stated simply. "By not giving you reason to believe in me."

A heartbeat passed before she continued. "I want to give you that reason now. If you'll let me."

It was as close as she had come to pleading in the past ten solar cycles, and it was so hard.

"I will try," was Gabrielle's reply.

She was still weak and hungry, but the pain of the wound had receded to a dull throb. Inside the cocoon of Xena's cloak where the wind could not reach her, she was warm.

At first she had ridden behind the Conqueror, but her diminished strength had not been enough to keep her from sliding off the galloping mare. So she now sat in front of Xena, her legs around the armoured waist and her head resting on the hard, cold shoulder guard. Pyrgomache strode smoothly, her pace even and strong.

She could not remember ever feeling this safe.

"Are you okay there?"

"Yes. Very much so," Gabrielle said and adjusted her cheek to lay more comfortably against the ridges of the engraved metal of the shoulder guard.

Her days in captivity had been long. For moons, she had not been warm, nor had a decent meal. She had longed for a fire, or a bowl of stew, but her reality had been hard bread and water. In the wan light the short days had given her, she had seen her health slowly drain away, felt the weakness invade her body.

She had arrived in Potedaia during the last harvest season, in the hope of finding her parents, should they have by some miracle escaped their captivity. Alas, no miracle had been forthcoming; all that had been waiting for her was news from her cousin of her mother's demise in the great famine two winters ago. And when the mark on her flesh had been discovered, her fate had been torn from her hands once again. She had refused to denounce its true significance, and so she had been jailed for the sake of her love, to await spring and the arrival of the slaver caravans.

Oh, my beloved. If only you could see the irony of it all, Gabrielle thought sadly and adjusted her arms around the Conqueror's midsection. A circle complete. What her love had wrought upon others -- pain, annihilation -- she had faced herself. Xena had destroyed all in her path in retribution for the random act of cruelty that had been perpetrated against Gabrielle, and now Gabrielle had paid for it. They were both mere pawns in the great game of vengeance, neither strong enough alone to swim against the tide of fate.

Leaning out a bit, she caught Xena's eye. There was a slightly dreamy smile on the Conqueror's lips, but it did nothing to hide the new, hard lines around her eyes. She had heard the stories of the Conqueror as a woman possessed, had seen the dried, clotted blood under her fingernails and smelled it in the fur she wore and in her very being; the Conqueror had drowned her rage in the only way she knew.

Out of the skillet and into the flames, Gabrielle, the bard thought and lowered her head.

"Xena?"

"Hmmm?" the Conqueror replied, a low murmur that the bard more felt than heard over the rhythmic beating of Pyrgomache's hooves.

"Where are we going?"

"Korinthos."

Of course. Gabrielle sighed and shifted in her seat.

She had used to find that dedication so enchanting...and she still did, but for a different reason. She could never own Xena like Xena did her, for the core of the dark woman's nature was hers and hers alone; in that mind were recesses and canyons so deep and dark that the bard dared not even consider what might lay there. But, like a faraway mountain beckons a wanderer, she strove for that which seemed impossible -- the Conqueror's love.

When she had left Xena out of her love for the people of Hellas and for the sake of her own broken heart, she had been confident of the justness of her decision. But during her long months of solitude in imprisonment, she had come to find that there were infinite varieties of love. She had come to understand that the nature of Xena's soul was inherently dual: light and darkness and little in between. The darkness was Xena's, and what light there was -- that was Gabrielle's alone.

[faveficarchive]

A Fine Line

By Jenbob

Copyright © 1997 Apr (Revised 1997 Fall)

All rights reserved

LEGAL DISCLAIMER

Xena: Warrior Princess, Gabrielle, Argo and all other characters who have appeared in the syndicated series Xena: Warrior Princess, together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MCA/Universal and Renaissance Pictures. No copyright infringement was intended in the writing of this fan fiction. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author. Absolutely no aspect of this story (e.g. ideas, images, dialog etc.) contained within may be used elsewhere without the express prior written consent of the author. This story cannot be sold or used for profit in any way. Copies of this story may be made for private use only and must include all disclaimers and copyright notices.

EXTREME VIOLENCE WARNING/DISCLAIMER

This story depicts scenes of EXTREME violence and/or their aftermath. This simply cannot be emphasized enough. The violence is described in exacting detail at times, however, it was necessary for the plot of the story to include it. You may have read this warning in the past and thought that the author overemphasized how violent his or her story would be. However, in this case, the warning is VERY real and should NOT be taken lightly. Readers who are disturbed by or sensitive to this type of depiction may wish to read something other than this story.

SEXUAL VIOLENCE WARNING/DISCLAIMER

This story depicts scenes of sexual violence and/or their aftermath. Some readers may be disturbed by this type of depiction and anyone who is sensitive to this particular issue may wish to read something other than this story.

HURT/COMFORT WARNING/DISCLAIMER

This story may be best classified as a Hurt/Comfort Story involving the characters Xena: Warrior Princess and Gabrielle. Readers who are disturbed by or sensitive to this type of issue may wish to read something other than this story.

LOVE/SEX WARNING/DISCLAIMER

This story depicts a love/sexual relationship between two consenting adult women. If you are under 18 years of age or if this type of story is illegal in the state or country in which you live, please do not read it. If depictions of this nature disturb you, you may wish to read something other than this story.

OTHER DISCLAIMERS

(1) The words to the "poem" that Gabrielle recites are actually the lyrics to the song "The Change", sung by Garth Brooks, and are used here without permission or intent to profit.

The Change was written by Tony Arata & Wayne Tester

(c) 1995 Little Tybee Music / Forerunner Music Inc.

MCA Music Publishing

(2) The story of Baucis and Philemon is an old Greek myths that was originally told by Ovid.

It is my best guess that it was this story that Gabrielle was telling Xena in the episode Chariots of War, although the details of Gabrielle's story do differ slightly from the traditional tale. I attribute this simply to bardic license on the part of Gabrielle.

PLEASE NOTE!!!!!

Warnings/Disclaimers are included with this piece of fan fiction to enable readers to judge whether it is of interest to them. Their inclusion is an attempt by the author to prevent any individual from being overly disturbed or distressed by this story and they are intended to be taken seriously as a comment about the nature of the story. After reading the Warnings posted, it is the sole responsibility of each reader to decide whether this piece of fan fiction is of interest to them or whether it might be more appropriate for them to read something else instead.

This story is dedicated to Catherine "Cat" McKenzie...since without her tireless support and willingness to go off on bizarre searches for obscure facts, this story would still just be rattling around my head. She's also the best furkin' editor and friend a bard could ever hope to have!

Author's Note: The events of this story take place a few weeks after the ending of The Third Wheel (which took place a few weeks after the X:WP episode A Day in the Life.) If you haven't read that story, well, it probably won't make too much difference, although some things may not make quite as much sense. Just get used to the occasional bizarre reference.

CHAPTER 1

The sun was still shining brightly overhead when the two women entered the clearing by the lake. A tall woman with jet black hair and a confident air of command looked the clearing over carefully, before nodding her head and dropping the reins of the horse she was leading. "This looks like a good place to set up camp," she announced. "I'll scout around a little to make sure the area's safe," she continued, as she turned to look at her blonde companion.

Gabrielle nodded. "It looks perfect. I'll have everything set up by the time you get back," she said, trying not to show her concern over how tired her friend looked and sounded. However, she knew that it would do no good to suggest to Xena that she rest first and scout later; the warrior was simply too obstinate to listen to logic like that. The fact that they were stopping for the day while it was still so early, though, clearly indicated that Xena was more tired than she was letting on.

Gabrielle shook her head, as she watched Xena head off into the surrounding woods. They had only started traveling again a few days ago, after having had to take time off for the warrior to recover from injuries she had suffered a month earlier. Xena had been willing to remain in Uthranis as long as she was still having difficulties walking. As soon as she was able to move around again without the limp, however, she had decided they needed to be moving on, and no amount of arguing could change her mind. The fact that she still tired easily and was not even close to being fully recovered, made no difference to the warrior. Xena had been feeling cooped up and constrained for far too long. She needed to be on the road again.

Gabrielle worked rapidly to set up their camp, determined that everything would be finished by the time that Xena returned. As she laid their bedrolls out next to one another, she couldn't stop a broad smile from spreading across her face. She and Xena had been lovers for a couple of weeks now, the best couple of weeks of her entire life, and sometimes she still had trouble believing that they were finally together. She knew, though, that this was another reason that Xena had wanted to leave Uthranis. Things had been fine while the two of them were staying by themselves, alone and away from others. Once they had started seeing other people on a regular basis, however, Xena had grown self-conscious about any displays of affection. Xena always felt the need to put on her strong warrior image whenever there were others around, and this was not particularly conducive to romantic encounters.

As Gabrielle finished setting up the rest of the camp and began to collect firewood for the evening, she thought back on the days since they had left Uthranis. It had been harder to leave than she would have thought. She suspected that it had been hard on Xena as well, even though the warrior would never admit to it. But they had left a good friend behind in Uthranis: Cor, a former lieutenant of Xena's who, with his humor, insight, and foolhardy bravery, had managed to get Xena and Gabrielle to finally openly admit to the feelings they had for one another. Gabrielle had been jealous of Cor's relationship with Xena when they had first met but, as time had gone by, she had come to consider him a friend, and she was already missing the sound of his voice.

The past several days had been relatively quiet for the pair. A few bandits and ruffians had tried to start some trouble with them, but Xena's name and her imposing stance, as she drew her sword from its scabbard, had been enough to frighten them off without any actual fighting. Unfortunately, this same routine hadn't worked on the men they had met up with earlier that day and they had had to fight the idiots to convince them that the warrior and the bard should be left alone. Xena had thrown herself into the battle with her usual enthusiasm, with Gabrielle following closely behind. They had easily defeated the eight men, although Xena had been forced to kill one of them in the process. Afterwards, though, Gabrielle could see that Xena's reserves were nearly drained. They had traveled for a short while longer before Xena had decided to stop for the day, hours before she would normally have made such a decision.

Gabrielle had long since collected the last of the firewood they would need for the evening and had laid out the makings of the campfire, by the time Xena returned with a rabbit for their dinner. Gabrielle shook her head as she took the animal from her friend and prepared to cook it. "Xena, we're still overloaded with all the food and supplies that Cor insisted we take when we left Uthranis. There was no reason for you to go to the trouble of catching something for us to eat tonight."

Xena shrugged. "It wasn't any trouble. I flushed him accidentally and took him with my chakram without even thinking about it. But if you'd rather have trail rations....," she said with a smile.

"No, this will be fine," Gabrielle replied. Seeing Xena looking around for something to do, the bard grinned. "I've taken care of everything, including Argo, so all you have to do is sharpen your sword for the next hour while I fix dinner."

Xena arched an eyebrow at Gabrielle and looked at her for several moments, before shaking her head and moving to sit on a nearby log with her sword and her whetstone. Soon she was engaged in the endless process of sharpening the blade, a process that was not only necessary for the sword, but was also important in helping Xena to relax from the tensions of the day. She was completely worn out and she was grateful that Gabrielle was, for once, remaining quiet. It wasn't that she minded the bard's stories but, at the moment, she simply didn't have the energy to listen to anything Gabrielle had to say.

Gabrielle kept a close eye on her friend as she went about preparing their dinner. It was obvious from the way Xena was carrying herself that the warrior was almost out on her feet. It was sheer stubbornness that was keeping her going at the moment; the same stubbornness that refused to allow her to take a few more days to rest and regain the remainder of her strength. Gabrielle had tried to convince Xena not to push herself so hard but, after their last argument, she had decided to give up on the direct approach since it obviously wasn't going to work. On the other hand, the indirect approach had the potential for success.

Supper was soon ready and the two women ate in comparative silence. Xena was too tired to carry on a conversation and Gabrielle was too absorbed in planning her new method of attack. After they finished eating, the bard took care of cleaning everything up, before finally making Xena a mug of tea and taking it over to where she was sitting. "Here, try this. I think you'll like it," she said with a smile.

Xena took the mug and smelled the brew, smiling appreciatively as she did so. She took a small sip and nodded her head. "It's good. What is it?" she asked curiously.

"Actually, I'm not sure. It's a mixture Cor gave me for you. He said you'd like it," Gabrielle replied.

Xena jerked the mug away from her lips and spat out the rest of the liquid in her mouth. "You gave me one of Cor's mixtures and you don't even know what's in it?" she sputtered angrily.

Gabrielle laughed at Xena's reaction. She had to admit, though, her friend was justified in being cautious. The last time Cor had given Xena something to drink without telling her what it was, the drink had contained a strong sedative that had quickly put her to sleep. Considering all the discussions they had had about Xena pushing herself too hard and needing to get more rest, Xena could be forgiven for being a bit suspicious about Gabrielle's motives. "Relax Warrior," Gabrielle finally said. "He assured me that there was nothing in it you would object to. It's just tea. See, I'm drinking some too. Do you want to switch cups with me?" she teased gently.

Xena chuckled ruefully. "No, that's all right. I just don't want to be under the influence of sleeping herbs when we're out here in the middle of nowhere."

"I know...now drink your tea. It might relax you but I promise it won't hurt you," Gabrielle said with a smile. Xena nodded as she began to drink the rest of the tea, enjoying the flavor and wondering what in the world Cor had mixed up this time. The two sat together in comfortable silence, before Gabrielle finally spoke up. "So, where are we headed anyway?"

Xena pondered the question for a few moments before answering. "Well, to be honest, I wasn't really headed anywhere. I just needed to get away from Uthranis. Everything was starting to feel too 'crowded' and 'close' there." Xena was silent for a few more seconds before continuing. "Actually, I was thinking that maybe we could visit the Amazons, unless you have some place else you'd rather go?"

A broad smile broke out across Gabrielle's face. "No. I'd love to go visit the Amazons! But we were just there not long ago. Are you sure you want to go back there again so soon?"

Xena smiled. "Well, you are the Amazon Queen now. I guess we should start trying to make it back there a little more often. Besides, we're relatively close and there's nowhere else we need to be."

Gabrielle grinned. "Well I guess we visit the Amazons then," she said happily. She looked over to see that Xena was draining the rest of her tea from her mug. As she finished, Gabrielle took her cup from her and then returned to help the warrior take off her armor. Her breath caught in her throat as she slowly removed each piece. She was amazed, as always, at the sheer beauty of the woman who had captured her heart. As she helped to take the armor off, she did her best to be gentle with her friend. Several times, though, she heard Xena moan softly in pain, as her sore muscles were pulled this way and that. When Gabrielle was finished, she leaned against Xena's back and wrapped her arms around her lover, closing her eyes as she held her tightly. She remained like that for several moments, before moving around to face the warrior. "Come on and lay down. Let's see what I can do about those sore spots," she said quietly.

Xena smiled gratefully, when she heard Gabrielle's words, before moving to stretch out on their bedrolls. The bard had only recently adopted the practice of giving her friend backrubs, but she had become amazingly good at it during the past few weeks. Of course, the fact that she had had so much practice at it, undoubtedly contributed to how rapidly she was becoming an expert in her technique.

Gabrielle grinned while she watched Xena get comfortable. As she began to slowly stroke the warrior's tired body, she launched into the dullest story that she knew. While giving Xena massages over the last few weeks, she had learned several things. She knew exactly how and where to touch her to drive the warrior wild with desire She had mastered the art of getting Xena to the point where coherent thought was impossible for her. She also knew exactly how and where to touch the warrior to soothe her muscles and lull her into a deeply relaxed state. It was the second type of massage that she was interested in at the moment.

It didn't take long to achieve her goal and soon Xena was sleeping peacefully, a small smile on her lips. 'Mission accomplished,' Gabrielle thought, as she pulled a blanket up to cover her friend, before rising and walking silently away. She checked on Argo to make certain that the mare was all right and then retrieved the scroll she was working on from one of the saddlebags. She spent the next few hours working quietly on her most recent story, before finally deciding to turn in as well. She tossed another log onto the fire, made one last check of the camp, and then crawled under the blankets next to Xena. She smiled when the sleeping warrior wrapped an arm around her and moved closer. She spent the next few minutes lightly caressing Xena's hair, loving the feel of it as it slid through her fingers. Finally she leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss against her lover's forehead, before closing her eyes and settling down to sleep.

Gabrielle woke up the next morning before Xena, a feat she only rarely managed to accomplish. Looking down at the warrior's face, which was resting against her chest, Gabrielle felt her heart swell with love. She remained motionless for several long minutes, enjoying the feel of Xena's body pressed against hers, and then gently moved out from underneath her friend. Stretching as she rose to stand, she glanced around the campsite, before grabbing a bar of soap from one of the saddlebags and walking the short distance to the lake. Reaching the shore, she removed her clothes and then dove into the warm water. She quickly washed her hair and the rest of her body and then tossed the soap back onto the shore. Moving into deeper water, she began to swim in slow, lazy circles. Finally, she flipped over to float on her back, while she allowed the sun to warm her body.

The sound of a splash eventually drew her attention back to the shore. She could see the ripples of water spreading outward from a point not far from shore, and she could see Xena's clothes lying next to hers on the bank. As Gabrielle began treading water, the warrior slowly broke the surface just in front of her and then moved into the bard's embrace to kiss her deeply. "Morning," Xena said huskily.

"Morning," Gabrielle replied, pressing up against her, delighting in the feel of Xena's skin against hers.

"I'm sorry about last night," Xena murmured, as she slowly caressed her lover's back.

"Last night? Why are you sorry about last night?" Gabrielle asked in a confused tone.

Xena looked at her in surprise. "Because I fell asleep on you, right in the middle of one of your stories," she replied.

Gabrielle laughed. "That was the whole point. Xena, I almost fell asleep during that story," she said, as she leaned in to kiss her lover.

The warrior pulled back. "You mean there was something in that tea?" she demanded.

Gabrielle grinned. "Xena...there was nothing in your drink. You were just tired. Now why don't you just admit that maybe you need to start trying to get a little more rest," she said and then pulled Xena to her to kiss her again.

Xena returned her kiss and deepened it, parting Gabrielle's lips to thrust her tongue into the bard's mouth. Gabrielle moaned and pressed closer to the warrior, as she wrapped her arms around Xena to hold her tightly.

Suddenly, Xena pulled away again. "Maybe you're right," she said in a serious tone.

Heart pounding, blood racing, it took a confused Gabrielle several moments before she could finally respond. "I'm right? About what?"

"I should probably get some more rest," Xena said solemnly, as she released the bard. "I'll just go take a quick nap and then we can get back on the road again," she finished, before she turned and headed back to the shore.

Gabrielle watched her, completely dumbfounded by the turn of events. As Xena neared the shore, however, Gabrielle grinned and quickly swam after her, easily catching the slow moving warrior. Sliding up behind Xena, she whispered in her lover's ear, "A nap is a good idea, but I think before you take one, you should get a workout first...you know...exercise your muscles."

Xena paused as she considered Gabrielle's advice. "Maybe you're right. I could practice with my sword."

"I was thinking of different muscles," Gabrielle said, as she placed soft kisses along Xena's neck and shoulders.

"Hmmm...maybe I could take Argo for a run?" Xena said, struggling to speak normally.

"Well...those are some of the same muscles I guess. But it's not really what I had in mind," Gabrielle replied, as she reached around to stroke Xena's breasts.

"Well, I'm out of ideas. What do you suggest?" Xena asked, then groaned deeply as Gabrielle dropped one hand to press against her sex.

"Let me think about it...maybe I'll come up with something," Gabrielle said, before wrapping her legs around Xena's waist and moving sensuously against the other woman. Moving her hand back up, she cupped both of the warrior's breasts in her palms, squeezing them firmly. She trailed her lips up Xena's neck to her ear and blew lightly across it, before outlining it with her tongue. She smiled when she heard her lover moan softly.

She continued to torment the warrior for a few moments more, before moving back to Xena's neck, nibbling and sucking lightly as she moved along the line to her shoulder. Reaching the warrior's shoulder, Gabrielle hesitated for a brief moment before biting down hard, loving the gasp of pleasure she heard escape from Xena's throat. Unable to take her lover's sweet torture any longer, Xena reached down to unlock the bard's ankles from around her waist and then turned quickly to face her. Recovering instantly, Gabrielle pressed up against Xena once again, locking her ankles behind the warrior's back while she kissed her passionately. Hands stroked backs, trailing fingernails across sensitive flesh, as both women sought to draw the other as close as possible. Xena moved her mouth hungrily over the younger woman's, parting her lips once again to thrust her tongue inside. She explored the bard's mouth thoroughly and then enticed Gabrielle's tongue back into her own.

Gabrielle groaned softly when she felt Xena sucking on her tongue. She began rocking rhythmically against the warrior, the feel of the water around them heightening every sensation. Lifting the bard up out of the water, Xena brought her lover's breasts to her waiting lips. Gabrielle groaned again, louder this time, as she felt Xena's lips draw her nipple into her mouth. She clutched the warrior's head firmly to her chest, encouraging her to take more of her breast into her mouth. Xena swirled her tongue across the nipple before biting down. She smiled when she heard Gabrielle whimper softly and then moved to lavish her attentions on the bard's other perfect breast.

The two lovers continued to stroke and caress one another for several minutes, before Xena began moving towards the shore once again. Gabrielle unlocked her ankles from around her lover's waist as they drew closer, then smiled when Xena immediately swept her up into her arms to carry her the rest of the way to their blankets. Laying Gabrielle carefully down on their bedrolls, Xena hesitated for several moments before joining her, enjoying the opportunity to simply drink in the beauty of her lover. Stretching out beside the bard, Xena lightly trailed her hand up and down her lover's body, watching the play of taut muscles as Gabrielle reacted to her touch. "I love you," she finally said, before leaning down to kiss the younger woman.

Gabrielle sighed softly, when she felt the weight of Xena's body pressing against hers. She returned her lover's kiss with equal passion, while she reached around to cup the warrior's head and hold her close. When she felt Xena's hands beginning to move over her body, Gabrielle broke the kiss to look up at her, a determined glint in her eyes, before quickly rolling her lover over onto her back. Smiling down at the look of surprise on Xena's face, Gabrielle leaned down to lightly brush her lips across the warrior's. "Let me," she said softly, as she reached out and caught Xena's hands in her own. Bringing each hand slowly to her lips, she kissed them softly one at a time, before placing them behind the warrior's head. Seeing the confused expression on her lover's face, Gabrielle smiled again. "For once, just let me love you."

Xena chuckled softly. "Gabrielle, what are you talking about?" she asked, as she brought her hands back out from behind her head and reached for the bard.

Gabrielle grabbed her hands before Xena could touch her, gently placing them behind the warrior's head once again. "You always end up taking the lead. Just relax and let me touch you. Trust me," she said softly, as she reached down and lightly ran her fingers across Xena's stomach and then up to circle her breasts.

Xena took in a deep, shuddering breath and then nodded. Gabrielle grinned at her small victory. Nearly every time they made love, the warrior ended up controlling the pace. This time, Gabrielle intended to be the one in control. She knew, though. that she'd never be able to last long if Xena started touching her, so she had to get that issue taken care of right at the start.

Still smiling, Gabrielle leaned down to kiss Xena softly on the lips and then moved to brush kisses across the warrior's cheeks, forehead, and chin, before finally settling near her ear. "You are so beautiful," she murmured into Xena's ear, before biting down on the lobe and tugging at it gently. Moving to her lover's other ear, she flicked her tongue out to lightly trace the outline, before exploring the crevices within. "I could spend days singing songs of your beauty," she said softly, before moving to run her tongue across Xena's jawline.

Pausing for a moment to look down at her lover, Gabrielle smiled when she saw Xena struggling to restrain herself. Nodding in satisfaction, the bard leaned over again to trail kisses down the other woman's neck. Her lips settled momentarily at the hollow of Xena's throat, while her left hand began tracing intricate patterns across the warrior's flat stomach. Moving to her lover's collarbone, Gabrielle used her mouth to brand the other woman as her own, smiling when she saw the small marks that were appearing on Xena's skin. She moved back to Xena's throat and began to run her tongue across her lover's neck, while her hand slid up to capture the warrior's breast.

Xena groaned loudly when she felt her lover's hand cup her sensitive breast, and she reached down to cover the younger woman's hand with her own, encouraging the bard to squeeze harder. Gabrielle shook her head, as she lifted her head to look down at the other woman. "No," she reprimanded gently, as she removed Xena's hand and put it back behind the warrior's head. "Not yet," she said huskily, as she moved down to run her tongue across one of Xena's breasts, while her hand gently massaged the other one, sighing softly when she felt it swell beneath her touch.

Xena moaned and arched against her lover's mouth, but somehow managed to keep her hands locked in place. "Please Gabrielle," she panted. "Harder...more....," she begged. Smiling against the warrior's breast, Gabrielle willingly complied. She moved her mouth to Xena's nipple and bit down and felt it grow rock hard at her touch. Her hand began squeezing the other woman's other breast more firmly, pinching the tip between her thumb and index finger. "Gods yes," the warrior ground out, fighting desperately not to reach out and grab Gabrielle and clutch the bard tightly to her body.

Gabrielle switched her mouth back and forth between her lover's breasts, leaving neither one of them neglected. The bard reveled in the sight of the warrior writhing uncontrollably beneath her touch, as she slowly pushed the other woman to the edge. Finally moving her mouth downward, she ran her tongue across Xena's quivering belly and then gently parted her lover's thighs and settled between them. Placing her head near Xena's damp curls, Gabrielle blew warm air across her lover's sweet folds, before turning her attention instead to Xena's inner thigh. Placing her lips against the soft skin, the bard began to lick and nibble her way down the other woman's leg until she reached her calves, then slowly began moving back up. Passing over the warrior's center, Gabrielle moved to the other leg and began the same, torturous treatment, as she moved slowly down Xena's leg and back up again, once more skipping over her lover's heated center to pass to the other leg.

"By the Gods Gabrielle...please....," Xena whimpered frantically, as she moved her hips towards her lover, fighting the urge to grab the younger woman.

"Please what, Xena?" Gabrielle asked softly, propping herself up to look at the warrior. "Tell me what you want me to do."

"Please Gabrielle. I want your mouth on me now...I can't...I can't take much more of this," Xena rasped hoarsely.

"On you...on you where?" Gabrielle asked with a gleam in her eyes. "On you here?" she asked, before pressing a soft kiss to Xena's inner thigh. "On you here?" she teased, while she leaned up and kissed Xena's stomach. "On you here?" she asked, as she parted Xena's folds and dipped her tongue between to take a long, loving taste.

"There," Xena moaned, as she thrust her hips towards her lover's mouth. Her hands came out from behind her head but she managed to keep from grabbing Gabrielle, and instead curled her fingers into the bedroll.

Gabrielle reached up to grab the warrior's hips firmly while she probed deeper, matching the movements of Xena's hips with her tongue. She lovingly explored every fold, every ridge, before finally moving up to flick her tongue across the other woman's center, smiling to herself when she heard the warrior's groan of ecstasy. Pressing harder as she heard Xena's breathing growing ragged and uneven, she ran her teeth across the swollen bundle of nerves, before taking it between her lips and sucking on it, swirling her tongue across its surface as she felt her lover slip over the edge.

Xena arched against the younger woman as she shuddered uncontrollably, waves of ecstasy coursing through her trembling body. Gabrielle stared in wonder while she watched the play of emotions across her lover's face, as she continued to press soft kisses to the warrior's center. As Xena's breathing gradually returned to normal, Gabrielle replaced her mouth with her hand and moved up to take Xena's nipple in her mouth once more, moving her tongue lightly around it. She slowly stroked Xena, gritting her teeth to control her own reaction when she felt the other woman's unbelievable wetness against her hand. Straddling the warrior's thigh, she began pressing against her lover's leg, moving to the same rhythm as her hand. She continued her assault for a few minutes more, as she felt the warrior's passion beginning to build out of control once again. Finally she slipped her fingers up to capture Xena's swollen clit.

Xena groaned low in her throat when she felt her lover touch her. Her hips were moving entirely of their own volition and her head was thrashing back and forth. Her entire world was centered on Gabrielle's fingers, as she brought Xena back to the edge.

"Xena, open your eyes," Gabrielle commanded, her voice husky and low. Obeying the command, Xena looked up to see the bard's face inches from her own, gazing at her with a look that could only be described as raw passion. She struggled for control, to hold on for a few minutes longer, but as Gabrielle pressed her hips harder against the warrior's thigh and her hand harder against Xena's sex, she slipped over the edge once more. Her gaze locked with Gabrielle's, Xena moaned as her body bucked and writhed against her lover's hand, while the bard continued to stroke her, continued to press firmly against her.

Several minutes passed before Xena was able to manage anything even closely resembling rational thought. Looking up, she saw Gabrielle smiling down at her, eyes still filled with passion, as she lightly stroked her lover. Leaning down, the bard continued to move her hand against the warrior, while she placed gentle kisses across her lover's breasts. Xena felt herself responding to Gabrielle's touch once again and moaned when she felt the younger woman's lips dancing across her skin. She thrust her hips helplessly towards the bard's teasing fingers but they continued to remain just out of reach. "Gabrielle...please...your fingers....," Xena groaned loudly, as she struggled to speak.

"My fingers?" Gabrielle asked innocently, as she continued to tease the warrior.

"Inside me Gabrielle...your fingers...Could you put them inside me...please," Xena finally managed to gasp, thrusting her hips towards the bard's hand once again.

"You want me inside you?" Gabrielle asked in a low, seductive voice, while she pressed two fingers to Xena's opening.

"Gods yes," Xena whimpered, as she felt her lover slip two fingers just inside her and then stop.

"You want me inside you...or you need me inside you?" Gabrielle purred softly into Xena's ear, before moving back to look down on the warrior's face.

Xena hesitated for a moment, gazing into Gabrielle's eyes, before willingly submitting. "Need. I need you inside me Gabrielle," she choked out, her voice thick with passion.

Gabrielle leaned down to capture Xena's lips, as she slid two fingers deep inside her lover. She sighed softly when she felt Xena's muscles contract around them. Thrusting her fingers to keep pace with the movements of the warrior's hips, Gabrielle moved to straddle the other woman's thigh once again and began rocking against her. She continued to thrust her fingers deeply into her lover while massaging the warrior's center with her thumb, all the while moving her hips against Xena's thigh and feeling her own passion building out of control. Reaching down to grab the other woman's wrist, she placed the warrior's hand between her own legs, moaning with pleasure when Xena instantly began to stroke her fingers against the bard's engorged clitoris.

"Gods Gabrielle," Xena groaned. "You're so wet...you feel so good," she panted, as she slipped two fingers inside her lover and began matching Gabrielle stroke for stroke. Their gazes locked as Xena reached up with her other hand to caress her lover's breasts, rubbing callused fingers across the nipples and sending shudders of delight through the young woman's body.

They continued to thrust against one another, trying to prolong their pleasure for as long as possible. "Now," Gabrielle moaned as she finally gave in, unable to deny herself any longer. With a loud cry, Xena released as well, arching her body as she lost control completely, giving in to her passion, trusting Gabrielle enough to fully let go.

They lay together for several minutes, before either one had the ability to move. Withdrawing their fingers at the same time, they shivered as pleasant aftershocks rippled through their bodies at the sensations it caused. Without a word, they both brought their fingers to their mouths and licked them clean, savoring the taste of the other. As they finished, they kissed deeply, tongues pressing against each other, causing their tastes to mingle.

Xena shifted Gabrielle to a more comfortable position but maintained her hold on her lover. The bard slowly traced circles across Xena's stomach, before hugging her tightly. "Thank you," she said quietly.

Xena chuckled. "Thank me?" she said in disbelief. "Why are you thanking me?" the warrior asked.

"For trusting me," Gabrielle replied. "And for letting go completely. For not trying to hold back part of yourself," she finished.

"Do I normally hold back from you?" Xena asked in a concerned voice.

"No. But I know how hard it is for you to allow yourself to lose control. I just wanted you to know how much it means to me that you trust me," Gabrielle said with a yawn.

"I do trust you, Gabrielle," Xena said, as she slowly caressed her lover's back.

Several quiet moments passed before Gabrielle spoke again, "Xena?"

"Hmmm?" Xena asked sleepily.

"I'm sorry, but I just can't think of a good workout for you," Gabrielle said, a teasing note in her voice. "Maybe you should just take the nap and forget about the exercise."

"All right," Xena agreed with a yawn. "I'm too tired at the moment to do anything strenuous anyway," she said, before pulling Gabrielle closer and allowing herself to drift off to sleep.

CHAPTER 2

The next two days passed by uneventfully and, before they knew it, Xena and Gabrielle were nearing the town of Baraliam, the last village of any reasonable size before they reached Amazon territory. Xena briefly considered passing by the village completely, but Argo was in need of a new bridle, and Baraliam was as good a place as any to pick one up. In no time at all, they had made their purchase and were preparing to be on their way, when Gabrielle hesitated. "Buy you a drink?" she asked, indicating the tavern that was standing nearby.

"You want a drink?" Xena asked with a slight smile.

"Actually, I just want to sit down and rest for a few minutes and this was the best excuse I could come up with," Gabrielle replied.

"Okay. We'll stop for a few minutes and have a drink," Xena agreed. "But I thought I was the one who was supposed to still be weak and recovering from injuries."

Rolling her eyes, Gabrielle led the way into the tavern. She was pleasantly surprised to find that it was filled with the aroma of delicious food, rather than the smell of stale body odor like so many of the other taverns they visited. Looking around, she saw that the patrons seemed to mainly be local citizens, and the place was clean and neat. Smiling happily, she began to walk towards one of the back tables, while Xena trailed behind her.

"Warrior," a loud voice called out, stopping the pair in their tracks. Looking towards the bar, they saw the bartender watching them closely. "No weapons are allowed in my tavern," he said firmly but not unkindly. "You can hang them by the door," he continued, pointing towards several large pegs.

Xena looked at the pegs, then back to the bartender, and then finally at Gabrielle. "Come on. Let's go," she said, as she turned to leave.

Gabrielle quickly grabbed her arm, stopping her progress. "Xena come on. Hang your weapons up and let's have a drink."

"I don't need a drink that badly Gabrielle," Xena said flatly. "And I don't want to be unarmed and defenseless in some unfamiliar place when there's no need for me to be in here in the first place."

Gabrielle laughed at her last comment. "Unarmed, maybe. Defenseless? I hardly think so. Come on. I'll bet that wherever you sit down in here, there will be five different things within arm's reach that you could use as a weapon," she said with a grin. "Give up the sword and the chakram and let me buy you a drink."

Xena considered her options for a few more seconds, before finally sighing in resignation. Hanging her weapons up carefully on the pegs provided, she cast a quick glance around the room, noting the exits, the locations of the customers, and a variety of other things that suddenly seemed infinitely more important now that she was no longer armed.

Gabrielle hid a smile as she watched Xena's actions, before wandering over to the bar and ordering drinks for the both of them. Returning to the table that Xena had finally chosen, she handed the warrior her drink. Sitting down across from her, she sighed contentedly, as she finally got off her feet. "So how much longer will it take to get to the Amazons?" she asked after several minutes had gone by.

"Probably about three days, maybe a little less," Xena answered.

Gabrielle nodded. "How long do you think we can stay?"

Xena shrugged. "I dunno, maybe a week or two."

Gabrielle looked at her in astonishment. "Seriously? That long?"

Xena grinned at her young friend. "Well not if you don't want to. We don't even have to spend the night if you're going to be anxious to leave."

Gabrielle smiled broadly. "It's not that and you know it. I'm just surprised that you're willing to stay that long."

Xena simply shrugged again and the conversation dropped. The truth was, she had several reasons for her willingness to stay for an extended visit with the Amazons. Gabrielle was the Queen now but she had chosen to travel with Xena rather than stay with the village, and Xena still felt guilty about that sometimes. She knew that Gabrielle not only deserved to learn more about the Amazons, but that she needed to learn more about them too. The only way to accomplish this was for Gabrielle to spend time with her adopted people. Besides, Gabrielle had been happy with the Amazons and even though she knew that Gabrielle loved her, she also knew that few things would make the bard happier than spending time at the Amazon village. Making Gabrielle happy was important to Xena, more important than she sometimes liked to admit.

But Xena had another reason for wanting to spend time with the Amazons. Everywhere they went, Xena had to be concerned about the people around them learning the truth about her relationship with Gabrielle. It wasn't because they were both women, although she knew that that fact could cause problems in some places. Xena seriously doubted, after everything she had done in her past, that her reputation could suffer much from the revelation that she was in love with a woman, but she wasn't entirely certain how Gabrielle felt about that issue. Still, Xena had to admit that the Amazon village was one place that loving another woman wouldn't be regarded as unusual. The real problem, though, was not that they were both women, but rather that Xena was a target; Gabrielle even more so. Xena knew that their survival often depended on the fact that she was perceived to be dangerous, to be a threat, and she could show no weaknesses when they were in public. To do so was to risk not only her life, but Gabrielle's life as well.

With the Amazons, however, Xena didn't have to worry about acting like the warlord, because they already knew exactly what she was capable of. She had had a formidable reputation amongst them before they had even met her and, since that time, she had only improved her image in their eyes. They had seen her defeat Melosa, their former Queen, in hand to hand combat. She had managed to defeat Velasca, another former Queen, who had eaten ambrosia and become a goddess. Best of all, in the Amazon village, Gabrielle would be the true focus of everyone's attention. This meant that Xena didn't have to feel like everyone was staring at her all the time. Next to Gabrielle, she was rather insignificant. Instead of feeling threatened by that fact, Xena found it strangely liberating.

They finished their drinks and Xena allowed Gabrielle to convince her to stick around for another round. As they downed their second round, however, Xena smirked at her friend. "Come on...I think this qualifies as more than enough rest."

Gabrielle grinned sheepishly, as she rose to follow Xena from the tavern. Stopping to grab her weapons, Xena fastened them securely, before continuing on her way out the door. Reaching Argo's side, Xena carefully examined the new bridle once more to make certain that it was adjusted properly and then reached for the reins. Her hand paused in mid-air, however, as she heard the sounds of screaming coming from further down the street. Turning in that direction, she stepped forward slightly as she tried to see what was going on. She heard the danger, however, several second before she actually saw what was happening. "Raiders!" she growled angrily, as she began running in the direction of the sound of pounding hooves and barbaric shouts.

It didn't take long for the soldiers to advance into the middle of town. They were a small "army" numbering only about two dozen men. They were more than enough, however, to subdue a town the size of Baraliam, which was filled with villagers who knew nothing of the art of warfare. They were not enough, however, to subdue a town that also contained the Warrior Princess and the Amazon Bard.

Sweeping through the soldiers, Xena managed to knock several of them unconscious, before she finally reached the leader. Leaping upwards, she tackled him from his horse, driving him to the ground. Rolling to her feet, she quickly drew her sword and parried his clumsy thrusts, grinning widely at the frustration on his face, as he tried to find an opening. Xena toyed with him for a little while, enjoying his growing anger as she continued to taunt him, before finally slamming the hilt of her sword hard across his face, knocking him to the ground in a lifeless heap.

Looking around, she saw that Gabrielle was having no problems with the soldiers she was fighting; none of them seemed to have the skills necessary to threaten truly competent opponents. Reassured that her friend was in no need of her help, Xena scanned the rest of the village. The majority of the soldiers who were still standing had already begun a hasty retreat. A few, though, were still fighting, and it was these men that Xena focused her attention on. She saw that two different people, at opposite ends of the village, were in need of help. Grabbing her chakram, she sent it arcing through the air to strike the helm of a soldier who was chasing a young woman, knocking him backwards off his horse. As he lay motionless on the ground, Xena's chakram returned to her hand and she ran in the opposite direction to where a soldier was standing over an older woman.

Flipping through the air and screaming her battle cry, she landed next to the soldier and backhanded him hard, knocking him away from the woman. Shaking her head as the fool came at her with his sword, she easily parried his attack and then disarmed him. He stared at his empty hands for a few seconds, before drawing a dagger and coming at her one last time. Dropping her sword, Xena reached out and caught his arm, twisting it around behind him and causing him to gasp in pain as he dropped the dagger from nerveless fingers. Reaching up with her other hand, she pressed her fingers hard against his neck, rendering him unconscious. "Sometimes it's just easier to do it that way," she muttered with a wry grin.

Seeing that the battle was all but over, Xena focused her attention on the older woman lying on the ground beside her. "Are you all right," she asked, as she knelt beside the woman she had just saved.

The woman carefully picked herself up, leaning against Xena as she did so. "Yes I'm fine. Thank you," she said with a smile.

Xena quickly looked around to find Gabrielle, sighing in relief when she saw the young woman helping someone else who had been injured, before turning back to the woman at her side. Xena returned the smile and then noticed that the woman's arm was bleeding. "Your arm is hurt. Let me take a look at that for you," she said, as she moved closer to examine the wound.

The woman turned to watch as Xena looked at her arm. "So, who do I have to thank for saving my life?" she asked.

"My name is Xena," she answered after a momentary hesitation.

"Xena. I like it. It has a good sound to it," the woman replied. "I'm Ishalia," she said pleasantly.

"It's good to meet you Ishalia, although it would have been nice to have met under better circumstances," Xena said with a wry smile. "Okay, I need to clean this up and it could use some stitches too," Xena told her as she rose, intending to find Argo.

"Xena, are you okay?"

Xena smiled when she felt Gabrielle's hand on her back and turned to find that the bard had reached her side. "I'm fine Gabrielle, but I need to find Argo and get our saddlebags."

"I'll find her for you," Gabrielle replied. "Anything else?"

"Just find out if anyone else was hurt and needs help."

Gabrielle nodded. "Okay...I'll be right back," she said before hurrying off.

"Is your friend a warrior too?" Ishalia asked curiously.

Xena turned to watch Gabrielle walk away, her voice softening slightly as she answered the woman's question. "No, Gabrielle is a bard," she replied, before turning back to face Ishalia. "And if you're not careful, you'll find that out for yourself," she said with a grin.

Ishalia smiled. "I look forward to it," she said sincerely. "I don't have anything handy to use for stitching this up, but that bucket over there has clean water if you want to get started cleaning this," she said, nodding towards the cut on her arm.

"All right...I could use a clean cloth though," Xena said as she looked around.

Ishalia shrugged. "This dress is old but it's clean. Just rip a strip off the bottom."

Xena chuckled. "Okay," she said and then leaned down and complied with Ishalia's instructions. Taking the cloth over to the bucket to wet it, she quickly returned and began cleaning the dirt and debris from the wound. By the time she had finished, Gabrielle had returned with the saddlebag she knew Xena wanted. "Anyone else hurt?" Xena asked her.

"From what I saw, it appears there were no major injuries, but I'll check again," Gabrielle replied.

Xena nodded as she dug through the bag, searching for her needle and thread. "Let me know if there's anything serious. I'll be there to help as soon as I finish here."

As Gabrielle turned to leave, Ishalia quickly spoke up. "Are you planning on introducing me to your friend Xena, or did you think we had already met?"

To Gabrielle's astonishment, Xena turned bright red. "I'm sorry. Ishalia, this is my friend Gabrielle. Gabrielle, this is Ishalia."

Gabrielle studied Ishalia briefly. She was an older woman, probably in her mid-fifties, who appeared to have a permanent smile on her face and a twinkle in her eyes. Extending her hand to the woman, Gabrielle smiled warmly. "I'm glad to meet you Ishalia," she said.

"You too Gabrielle. Xena tells me you're a bard," she said, wincing slightly as Xena began stitching up her arm. "I'd like to hear some of your stories before you leave."

"I'd be happy to, although I don't know how long we're going to be here," she replied, looking at Xena curiously for a moment. "Well I guess I'd better go see if anyone else needs help," she said, glancing down again at Xena before walking away.

Xena sewed Ishalia's arm up with quick, efficient movements, wanting to spare the older woman any additional pain. Finishing with her task, she rocked back on her heels with a smile. "There. That should take care of it," she told her patient, as she reached into the bag for a bandage and began wrapping the woman's arm. "Make certain you keep this clean. Later I'll give you something to put on it to help speed the healing process."

Ishalia nodded as she watched Xena finish with her arm. "What did Gabrielle mean about not knowing how much longer you'll be here?" she asked curiously. "You aren't planning on leaving already are you?"

Xena chuckled. "We were literally on our way out of town when the raiders attacked. We're just passing through. We'll be on our way again as soon as I make certain that everyone is all right."

"Where are you headed?"

Xena hesitated again. "Amazon country," she finally replied, not certain what the woman's reaction to that information would be.

To her surprise, Ishalia smiled slightly. "Ahh, I should have guessed. That would be Queen Melosa's village...no wait, that's wrong," she immediately corrected herself. "Melosa is no longer the queen. I don't remember the new queen's name, although I do remember hearing it was a rather complicated situation."

Xena looked at her in astonishment. "How do you know about Melosa?"

Ishalia shrugged. "The Amazons sometimes come here to trade. We're on good terms with them. Not allies, but we're certainly not enemies. So, are you and Gabrielle traveling that way for some particular reason or just to visit?"

"Just to visit," Xena replied. "We have several friends there," she continued, knowing that it would be too difficult to explain the entire situation.

"Well then, since you don't have to get there by any specific time, why don't you stay here for the rest of the day?" Seeing Xena getting ready to protest, she hurriedly continued. "It's going to be quite awhile before you'll be ready to leave anyway. You might as well stay here for the night. Please. You'll be my guests. A home cooked meal and a clean bed are the least I can offer after you saved my life," she finished, smiling warmly at the warrior kneeling in front of her.

Xena considered the offer. Ishalia was right, they weren't in any real hurry to reach the Amazons and they weren't going to get much further today anyway. Surprised that she would even be considering such an offer, when normally she would have refused immediately, Xena studied Ishalia briefly. Despite herself, Xena found she was drawn to this woman she had just met and she realized that she honestly wanted to accept her invitation. "Okay," she finally agreed. "We'll stay for the night." Xena rose to stand, before reaching down to help Ishalia stand as well. "But at the moment I think I'd better go help Gabrielle."

Ishalia nodded, a delighted smile on her face. "All right. That's my house over there," she said pointing to her left. "Just come by whenever you get done," she finished, as Xena nodded and left to find her young friend.

"That was fantastic," Gabrielle told Ishalia enthusiastically. "I don't remember the last time we had a meal that good," she said, as she pushed herself away from the table.

"I'm glad you liked it," Ishalia replied with a smile.

"Oh, she did. Normally Gabrielle only has two huge bowls of stew. Three bowls is unusual, even for her," Xena said dryly. "Here Ishalia, let me help you with that," the warrior said, as she watched the woman reach to pick up the large pot that contained the leftover stew.

"That's all right Xena. You two just go into the other room and relax. I'll be there in a few minutes."

Nodding, Xena silently agreed, before following Gabrielle into the other room. Seeing the inquisitive expression on Gabrielle's face, Xena narrowed her eyes. "What?" she demanded.

"Nothing...I was just thinking about something," Gabrielle said with a bemused grin, before sitting down in the middle of a long couch.

Shrugging her shoulders, knowing that Gabrielle would tell her if it was something important, or even if it was something insignificant for that matter, Xena sat next to her on the couch as they waited for Ishalia. After a few moments the woman joined them, moving to an overstuffed chair that faced the couch. They chatted for several minutes, Ishalia asking them about their lives and their travels, before she finally looked at the pair curiously. "So how did you two end up traveling together in the first place?"

Xena grinned. "Well, that was my fault. She showed up at my camp one night and I made the mistake of feeding her." Xena shook her head ruefully. "I should've known better. Everyone knows you can never get rid of a stray once you've fed it."

Ishalia laughed while Gabrielle glared at her friend in mock anger. "A stray?" the bard finally asked.

"Oh, I'm not complaining," Xena reassured her, as she placed her hand on the young woman's shoulder. "After all, everyone also knows there's nothing more loyal than a stray who's finally found a home," she finished, struggling to keep a serious expression on her face.

Despite her best intentions, Gabrielle smiled back at her friend, hearing the truth behind Xena's teasing words. "Well, even a stray can recognize a good thing when she sees it," she said, covering Xena's hand with her own. Looking into her lover's eyes, she forced herself to resist the impulse to lean in for a kiss. Reminding herself sternly that they weren't alone, she dropped her gaze and turned back to face Ishalia.

Ishalia regarded the two women with a small smile before focusing her attention on Gabrielle. "Well Gabrielle, since you're no longer a stray, I guess I don't have to worry about you adopting me. But since I did feed you, does this mean I can get you to tell some of your stories?" she asked, as she settled back further into her chair.

Xena chuckled. "You didn't have to feed her for that...all you had to do was stand still long enough for her to get started," she said, a wicked gleam in her eyes.

Deliberately ignoring her friend, Gabrielle smiled at Ishalia. "Sure, would you like to hear something in particular?"

Ishalia shook her head. "No, anything at all will be fine."

"Gabrielle...."

"I know, I know," Gabrielle interrupted, turning to look at Xena. "No stories about you." Smiling when she saw the look of relief on Xena's face, Gabrielle thought for a few moments about the best story to begin with. Eventually settling on one, she launched into her tale. As she finished, both Xena and Ishalia encouraged her to tell another and then another. Finally, after her fourth story, the young bard was beginning to grow tired as the events of the day began to take their toll. Seeing her friend growing sleepy, Xena began asking Ishalia about her village, allowing Gabrielle the opportunity to relax. She wasn't surprised when Gabrielle soon fell asleep, the bard's head resting against her shoulder. She hesitated momentarily before carefully shifting to draw Gabrielle partially into her arms, allowing the young woman to rest against her more comfortably, and smiling slightly when Gabrielle burrowed into her embrace. Holding Gabrielle tightly, Xena continued to listen to Ishalia for quite some time, occasionally asking questions as the woman told her about her life.

Ishalia finished talking and the two sat together, quietly enjoying the silence. Xena turned her gaze to Gabrielle, lightly stroking her hair as the young woman slept in her arms. "You love her very much, don't you?" Ishalia asked, a gentle smile on her face.

Xena looked up carefully, knowing she had let too much show through, but she had been unable to stop herself. Something about this woman and this evening had caused her to let down her guard. "Yes, I do," she finally answered quietly. "Is that going to be a problem for you?"

Ishalia laughed. "Why would it be a problem? Love is love. Who cares what body you're wearing when you finally find it? Actually, it simplifies things. I was a little concerned since there was only the one bed in the spare room. Obviously that won't be a problem."

Xena smiled slightly. "No...It won't be a problem."

"So," Ishalia said as she changed the subject. "You're planning on leaving tomorrow?"

Xena nodded. "Probably in the morning; whenever Gabrielle manages to wake up."

Ishalia cocked her head to the side as she studied the warrior. "I don't suppose I'd be able to convince you to stay another day, would I?"

Xena looked at her in surprise. "Another day?"

"Of course. I haven't had visitors like you and your friend in ages. It's been nice to have someone to fuss over again."

Xena chuckled. "I doubt you're at a loss for company Ishalia."

Ishalia smiled at her. "No you're right. But all my other friends already know all my stories, and I know theirs. You and Gabrielle are a unique find."

"I don't know," Xena hedged. "We were wanting to get to the Amazon village fairly soon."

"One more day won't make any difference now, will it? Besides, if you leave, how will you know if my arm is healing properly?" she asked with a sly grin.

Xena raised her hands in mock surrender. "All right. You win. We'll stay one more day," she agreed, amazed at just how much she actually wanted to stay for a little while longer. "But for now, I think I'd better get my little bard to bed," she said with a smile. Standing up, she lifted Gabrielle easily into her arms. "We'll see you tomorrow," she told the woman before carrying Gabrielle to their bedroom.

Gabrielle woke the next morning to an empty bed. She stretched languorously before rolling over again and trying to decide whether she should attempt to go back to sleep. Finally deciding that she might as well get up, she sighed and got out of bed, stretching once again for good measure before leaving in search of Xena.

"Ishalia, I'll go get the water for you," she heard Xena offer as she approached the kitchen.

"No no. I can handle it. You're the guest here so just stay put," Ishalia informed the warrior sternly.

By the time Gabrielle reached the kitchen, Ishalia was gone. Seeing Xena leaning against a table, wearing her leathers but no armor or weapons, Gabrielle smiled and approached her. "Morning," she said huskily, as she slipped into the warrior's arms to kiss her.

"Morning," Xena replied softly, holding the bard tightly. "Sleep well?"

"Mmmhmm," Gabrielle murmured, as she held her lover close, resting her head against Xena's chest. "So," she said after a few silent moments. "When do you want to leave?"

"Well actually...I told Ishalia we would stay for one more day," Xena said hesitantly.

Gabrielle pulled away from her slightly to look up into her lover's face. With a puzzled expression and a somewhat bemused smile, she studied the warrior for several seconds. "Xena...just what is it with you and this woman?" she finally asked.

"What do you mean?" Xena asked guardedly.

"I mean that you've been acting funny ever since you met her. I mean, you offered to help clear the dishes last night, and just now you offered to go fetch water. And I heard you doing the same thing countless other times yesterday, offering to help with this or that. It's just not like you."

"So you're saying I'm rude?" Xena said, arching an eyebrow.

"Oh no," Gabrielle said with a wide grin. "I'm just saying you hate doing chores," she finished diplomatically, trying not to laugh. "Seriously though, I've never seen you act so polite and respectful to someone you've just met," she said with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "And I don't remember the last time I saw you blush the way you did yesterday when she chided you on your bad manners for not introducing the two of us."

Xena smiled ruefully. "I know. And you're right. I guess it's just that she reminds me of someone I used to know back in Amphipolis." Seeing Gabrielle's curious expression, the warrior reluctantly continued. "There was a woman there...a widow. Her name was Riash. She didn't have any kids, so she sort of adopted all of us as her own and we all adored her. All she had to do was say the word and we were falling all over ourselves to do whatever she asked of us."

"Even you?" Gabrielle asked with a smile.

"Especially me," Xena replied, chuckling softly.

"What was she like?"

"Riash? Riash was the kindest, sweetest woman you could ever hope to meet. One of those people that you just want to be around because they do everything they can to make you feel good about yourself. She never told me I was wrong to want to learn how to use a sword or fight. She always accepted me just as I was." Xena grinned as thoughts of Riash filled her head. "Of course, that didn't stop her from trying to instill a certain amount of discipline in me as well. Roughhousing was all well and good, but not inside her home. And no weapons either. I made the mistake of carrying my sword into Riash's house one time, and it was the last time I ever tried that again. Inside her home I was expected to be well-behaved and well-mannered...and it was probably the only time back then that I ever was."

"The only time 'back then'?" Gabrielle asked, a broad grin covering her face.

Xena smiled ruefully. "Okay...probably the only time in my entire life that I was well-behaved and well-mannered." Xena paused, as she continued to think about the woman from her past. "Riash was...well she wasn't really a mother or even a grandmother. When I was unhappy I went to Riash and with a word or a gesture she could make all the pain go away. And when I had good news to share, it was Riash I wanted to tell first. She was my confidant, my protector...my friend."

Seeing Xena's far away expression, Gabrielle hesitated for a moment before gently asking, "She was?"

Xena nodded as she closed her eyes. "Riash died a long time ago."

"Cortese?" Gabrielle asked softly, naming the warlord who had attacked Xena's village so long ago, setting her on the path of darkness that she had followed for years to come.

"Yes, Cortese. It always seems to come back to him, doesn't it?" Xena asked in a strained voice. Shuddering slightly as she felt Gabrielle's arms tighten around her, Xena pulled the young woman closer, losing herself in her lover's embrace. Finally regaining control, she began to speak again, her voice slightly unsteady. "Riash was killed by one of Cortese's men. It happened right in front of me, but I couldn't get to her in time to save her. I tried...the gods know I tried...but I was too far away. I was too slow and helpless to do anything but watch as he drove his sword into her and then laughed as her blood spilt onto the ground. I finally managed to reach her side but there was nothing I could do. She died in my arms. I don't think she even knew it was me holding her," Xena finished, her voice cracking despite her best efforts to remain in control of her emotions.

Gabrielle leaned back slightly to gaze up at her lover. Her heart constricted painfully, when she saw the sorrow in Xena's eyes. Reaching up, she brushed away the tear that was making its way down Xena's cheek before hugging her friend tightly once again. "You must have really loved her," she said quietly.

Xena hesitated for several moments before speaking. "Yeah, I did," she finally admitted. "She was the one person other than the members of my family that truly cared about me, and that I truly cared about as well. I loved her, and I would have done anything for her."

Taking a deep breath, Xena forcefully banished the painful memories of the past. "Ishalia is so much like Riash. She even looks a lot like her. I guess I just want to spend a little more time with her," she admitted quietly.

Gabrielle smiled. "Well I'm definitely not complaining. I haven't seen 'the warrior' make even one appearance while we've been in Ishalia's home."

"'The warrior'?"

"Yeah, you know. The big tough warrior image you always put on whenever there are other people around," Gabrielle said with an impish grin. "The one who I can't put my arms around and lean against. The one whose shoulder I can't fall asleep on."

"Gabrielle, I...."

Gabrielle quickly put her hand over Xena's lips to stop her. "It's all right. I know why you feel that you have to do it. But just because I understand it doesn't mean that I have to like it," she said. "Xena, we can stay here as long as you want. The Amazons aren't going anywhere."

Hearing Ishalia returning, Gabrielle reluctantly moved out of Xena's embrace. "Too little, too late, I'm afraid," Xena said wryly. "We blew any chance of keeping our relationship a secret from Ishalia last night," she said, as she reached out and caught Gabrielle's hand, drawing her back to keep her close. "She already knows all about us."

"And you're okay with that?" Gabrielle asked, wanting to be sure.

"And I'm okay with that. I don't think I need to be 'the warrior' in front of her," Xena said with a small smile.

"Gabrielle," Ishalia exclaimed happily as she entered the kitchen. "I was just talking about you."

"Oh?" Gabrielle replied, smiling as she watched Xena move to help the woman with her bucket.

"Yes. I saw the wife of the innkeeper, Fellia, while I was getting water and I mentioned that one of my guests was a bard, and a good one at that. She said to tell you they'd love to have you visit their tavern if you could. She assured me they could work something out to pay you for your time."

Gabrielle considered the offer. "Sure," she said after a few seconds. "Sounds good. It's been awhile since I had an audience of more than one or two for my stories. And maybe I could even tell a few of my 'forbidden tales' if you would agree to keep Xena busy for me," she said with a wide grin.

"'Forbidden tales?'"

Gabrielle laughed when she saw Xena roll her eyes. "Yes, you see, the big, brave warrior you see standing before you gets easily embarrassed whenever I tell stories about her. So I have to tell them in secret."

"Ahh, well I'm sure that any stories, forbidden or otherwise, would be welcome," Ishalia replied. "But I'll do my best to keep Xena distracted for you."

"Good, now if I could just get some breakfast, I'll get out of your hair and go find out what kind of arrangement I can make with Fellia."

Xena spent the rest of the day in Ishalia's company, taking a tour of the town, meeting various people and, despite the woman's protests, helping her with her chores. Late in the afternoon the two finally settled down in Ishalia's living room to relax. Ishalia told Xena more about her husband who had been a master craftsman. She showed Xena several of the items that he had made, before finally reaching what was obviously the one that meant the most to her. Taking a small lyre down from a shelf, she lovingly ran her hands over it, as she carried it to the warrior so that she could examine the piece.

Xena took the instrument carefully, amazed by its beauty. "It's incredible," she finally said. "Did he do all the carvings on it as well?"

"Yes he did," Ishalia said with a look of obvious pride. "He made this for me on our 20th wedding anniversary. It was probably the best work he ever did."

"I don't doubt it," Xena said sincerely, as she carefully traced the carvings on the lyre with her fingertips.

"Do you play?" Ishalia asked curiously.

"No," Xena replied with a chuckle. "I'm pretty hopeless when it comes to musical instruments like this. But you must," she said, as she handed the lyre back to Ishalia. "I'd love to hear you play something."

"It's been quite awhile since I've played for anyone else," the woman protested. "I wouldn't even know what to choose."

Xena shrugged. "Anything at all. Please?" she asked with a smile.

"All right...let me think for a second," Ishalia said as she began stretching her fingers to loosen them up. Finally, she smiled as she reached a decision and, moving to get comfortable, she began to play.

Xena smiled and sat back in her chair to listen to the music. Ishalia, despite her protests, was actually quite good, and Xena was enjoying herself thoroughly. All too soon the music ended, and Xena smiled broadly in appreciation. "That was wonderful," she said sincerely. "How about another?"

Ishalia cocked her head curiously at the warrior. "You don't play...but do you sing?" she asked.

Instantly, Xena's expression became more guarded. "Why?"

"I noticed you humming while I was playing. It was quite lovely. I'm guessing that you must sing equally as well."

"I sing a little," Xena admitted. "Mainly just for myself."

"Ahh...well why don't you sing while I play then? After all, I mainly play the lyre just for myself. It will make a good match," she said with a glint in her eyes.

"No...it's been a long time since I sang for anyone other than myself...I wouldn't even know what to sing," Xena protested weakly.

"Sounds familiar," Ishalia said with a grin. "Look Xena. If you really don't want to sing, I won't make you. I just thought it would be nice. I don't often get to play for an audience as appreciative as you. I just thought it would be fun to have you join in with me. If you want to sing, then just pick something and I'll follow along."

"Okay, okay. Let me think," Xena agreed. Finally, recalling a song that had been one of her favorites when she was younger, she hesitantly began to sing, her voice growing stronger and more confident as she saw Ishalia smile and join in. Feeling more at ease, she began to relax and enjoy herself, smiling as the small home was filled with music.

Gabrielle was in exceptional spirits as she wandered through the village towards Ishalia's house. The patrons at the tavern had been well behaved and they had loved her stories - an excellent combination. Her pouch was filled with dinars and she was on her way to what promised to be an excellent meal. It had turned out to be a great day.

As she approached Ishalia's home, she heard the sound of singing coming from inside. Drawing closer, she was astonished when she realized that it was Xena's voice that she was hearing. Gabrielle had heard Xena humming on numerous occasions, but actual singing was a rarity for the warrior. She remembered Xena telling her once that she only sang when she was "moved" or when there was "something behind it". Apparently, Ishalia had managed to touch something deep and personal within her warrior friend.

Moving forward, Gabrielle carefully opened the door to Ishalia's house and stepped inside. She stood quietly, transfixed by the scene before her, as she watched Ishalia play the lyre while Xena sang. The song was unfamiliar to Gabrielle, but there was a haunting beauty to it that drew her in and kept her spellbound. She remained silent and motionless for several seconds after the song had ended, before finally moving all the way into the room where Ishalia and Xena were sitting. "And I thought I was the performer," she said softly.

The two women looked up in surprise when Gabrielle spoke. Ishalia laughed as she rose and placed the lyre back on a shelf. "Don't worry Gabrielle. My playing is mainly the result of the quality of my instrument, not my skill. And I had to work hard to get Xena to sing even one song, so I don't think you have to be concerned about too much competition from her either."

Gabrielle smiled and nodded, turning her attention from Ishalia to Xena, who was sitting quietly, intently studying the chair she was sitting in. "Well that's reassuring. I'd hate to be out of a job," Gabrielle said with a smile.

"Are you hungry? Dinner should be about ready."

Gabrielle reluctantly turned her gaze from the Warrior Princess to the older woman. "I'm famished. I've been looking forward to your cooking all day," Gabrielle replied, as she watched Ishalia walk into the kitchen to check on the meal.

Turning to study her friend again, Gabrielle moved closer to sit on the table in front of her. "That was beautiful," she finally said softly.

"Yeah, Ishalia plays well," Xena agreed, deliberately misunderstanding Gabrielle's words.

"Yes she does. But that wasn't what I was talking about and you know it," Gabrielle said, as she reached out to gently stroke Xena's cheek, smiling when the warrior turned her face into her hand to press her lips against the bard's palm. She continued to study her friend for several more seconds before speaking again. "Did Riash play the lyre?" she asked quietly.

Xena chuckled and shook her head in wonder. "Yes she did," she replied softly. "And yes," she continued, seeing the unspoken question in Gabrielle's eyes. "I used to sing while she played."

Gabrielle smiled. "I'm not sure how I'm going to manage it, but somehow I've got to figure out a way to inspire you to sing more often," she said, as she stood and then reached down to help Xena rise as well.

Xena smiled and looked down at her lover. "You already do Gabrielle...It wasn't Riash that I was thinking about while I was singing, it was you," she said softly, before leaning down to kiss the young woman and then leading her into the kitchen to join Ishalia.

[faveficarchive]

CREDIT DEUX

By IseQween

January 2006

Xena and Gabrielle work through some post-obsession issues following Aphrodite's mischief in the third season episode FINS, FEMMES AND GEMS. I dedicate this fish ' um ' story to "Momma ROC." -- IQ

"Gabrielle'. Think there's something about yourself you're not satisfied with."

"Humph. Other than the fact that no one gives me credit for anything, and everyone thinks I'm a silly sidekick?"

"Heeyah!"

Gabrielle swept the man's legs from under him and whirled to defend against two more attackers. Except, they suddenly went flying across the room. She looked up to see a pair of brown boots attached to a leather-clad body swinging from a rope wrapped around a ceiling beam. The boots hit a wall, ran around it, pushed off, and disappeared into a handful of gang members, who crashed to the floor like pottery. Only one dared - or could - get up.

"Yiyiyiyiyi!"

Xena somersaulted the short distance to her last opponent, did a handstand, locked her legs around his upper body, and tossed him out the door. Some of the inn patrons began tying up the bodies littering the place. Others surrounded their hero.

"Did you see that?!" A boy imitated Xena's moves. "Whop! Bam! Plunk!"

"Thank the gods you came! We are forever in your debt."

Xena held up her hand. "I'm glad we could -."

"Xeena! Xeena! Xeena!"

Xena beckoned for Gabrielle to join her. "Listen, if it wasn't for - ."

"Xeena! Xeena! Xeena!"

The warrior grabbed Gabrielle and pushed their way through to the stairs. She stood on the second step. "Quiet! Everybody settle down!"

The crowd's yells dimmed to murmurs.

"In case you didn't notice, there's another name ya oughtta be shouting." Xena beamed at her partner. "Gabrielle!"

"Yeah, she's a cutie."

"A 'cutie'?!" Xena's eyes narrowed at the man unfortunate enough to notice the wrong physical asset. "She could take you out with one swing. Like she did those thugs."

"Um, Xena?" Gabrielle tugged on her partner's arm.

"No." The warrior pulled loose. She stepped down and glared at the speaker before sweeping her eyes around the others gathered. "I don't need thanks. Since you're givin' it, give it to both of us."

"Yes," a woman agreed, "the child did help. It's only right -."

"Child?!"

"Xena, really. Please don't make a -."

"What? A scene? We already did that, dontcha think? They seemed to like my act well enough." Xena pointed at the bound ruffians. "This 'cute child' was in it the whole way. Sweatin,' puttin' everything on the line while the rest of ya gawked. Maybe fear's made you forget your manners?" She cupped her hand to her ear. "Now, what was it you wanted to say?"

"Thank you, Gabrielle," a few mumbled.

"Sorry. Didn't quite hear that."

The whole roomed seemed to take a deep breath before erupting in, "Thank you, Gabrielle!"

Xena nodded. "All right then. C'mon, Gabrielle. We're done here." She strode through the path that opened to the exit.

"Xena?" The warrior was already untethering Argo when Gabrielle caught up to her. "What's gotten into you? I mean, I appreciate -."

"Idiots." Xena muttered to herself as she led the trio to the road out.

"Xena!"

"What?"

"That really wasn't necessary. I don't need -."

"You do." Xena kept striding as if toward some battlefield. "They do. I do."

Gabrielle struggled to keep up. "Is this about that spell Aphrodite put on us? Because of my babblings about being overlooked? Your promise to give me more credit?"

Mouth puckered, Xena kept her gaze forward. "It's about time. Shoulda seen it before."

Gabrielle put her hand on the warrior's arm. "Xena, I know you appreciate me. You're the only one I care about."

The warrior stopped. "You care about this hero stuff, right? Ya want it to be about entertainment? Who can do the best flips?" She snorted in disgust. "I didn't mind so much, when it was mainly me. It's not anymore. There's a 'cute' village girl, who didn't have to be a seasoned killer to protect people from one. From bunches of `em at a time. If folks can't see that, what's the point?" She turned and continued down the road.

Gabrielle stared open mouthed at the warrior's back. For once at a loss for words.

*****

"Xena?" Gabrielle scowled at her companion. "You been using my scrolls again? In the bushes?"

"What?"

"Could've sworn this piece was longer."

"Huh." Xena glanced innocently at the object in question. "Nope, learned my lesson about that mistake." She resumed saddling Argo. "Sure you didn't mix it up with another one? Maybe write more'n you thought?"

"Well '. I did kinda go ' overboard ' with my musings." Gabrielle winced. "Most of it not fit for intelligent consumption."

"How come?"

"Um, it was during my obsession with myself. My perfection." Gabrielle shuddered. "You know - `I'm the ultimate fantasy?'"

"Ah. Your 'little minx' phase. You mention nearly drowning in your reflection? Spitting in my face?"

"Funny. But no. At least not the part about you." Gabrielle smirked. "You weren't exactly the center of my attention then."

"Only fair. After all, you worked the hardest acquiring the Mystic Diamond. What with the teensy distraction I had fishing."

"`Teensy?!' You take even understatement to the limit."

"What's that s`posed ta mean?"

"Fishing? Like you need more enchantment to go off the deep end there." Gabrielle slid her eyes Xena's way. "I'd say you had a 'teensy' issue with obsessions long before Aphrodite's spell."

"Pffft. Name one."

"Let's see '. Keeping weapons outta my hands. Protecting me from unsavory types."

"Lotta good that did."

"Heh. Didn't say it had to." Gabrielle sighed. "We won't count Hope. That one did work. Eventually. Thankfully." She exchanged sad smiles with Xena. "And what about this giving me credit thing? Don'tcha think you're getting a tad carried away?"

Xena adjusted her bracers. "If you only knew," she said under her breath.

"What was that? You agreeing with me?"

"I'm used to going full out. Not pulling punches. It's possible my ' focus ' gets a little extreme sometimes."

"Uh huh. Nothing half-hearted about the Warrior Princess. One of the things I love, by the way." Gabrielle studied the scroll in her hand. "Wouldn't set a good example, I guess, obsessing over this." Shrugging, she stuck it in her bag. "Could be I'm getting addled in my advancing years."

"Hope not. Not this soon anyway. By your 20's, I'll have to leave you somewhere for safe keeping." Xena smirked. "Aphrodite. She'll keep ya young."

"Brrrr. More like truly drive me to early crone-age."

"Eh, I wouldn't worry about it. You've been a busy girl. Lots on your mind." Xena finished securing the bedrolls to Argo's back. "Ready?"

"Uh huh." Gabrielle slung her bag over her shoulder. "I have," she said as they walked to the road. "Been pretty busy, I mean. Is it my imagination? Does it seem we've run into more trouble lately?"

"Well '." Xena quickly conjectured plausible explanations. "We're headed toward a port town. Roads're usually more traveled. Rougher elements - sailors, pirates, sea-faring merchants."

"Wish they'd take a break." Gabrielle inspected her palms. "My hands're starting to look like I've been chopping trees for a season."

Xena chewed her lip, mainly to conceal a guilty grin. "Um, I'll work on your staff for ya. Smooth it up some. Not sure it'll help the calluses much."

Gabrielle chuckled. "Maybe a wooden chakram? Could use that sometimes instead of my staff."

"Heh. Might not be as accurate." Xena squinted into the distance. "Uh oh. Thick smoke to the left. Beyond that hill. Could be nothing. Had enough excitement, or wanna check it out?"

Gabrielle studied the geyser of soot. "It's not a field burning. Too concentrated. Something big though. Yeah, better see what's up."

Xena vaulted aboard Argo, pulling Gabrielle up behind her. A breakneck ride brought them close enough to see a barn on fire. A handful of warriors stood between some farmers and the blaze. Xena reined in Argo a few feet away.

"Need a hand?"

One of the warriors sauntered over. He noted Xena's weapons and warhorse. "You lookin' fer work?"

"Maybe. Whatcha got in mind?"

"Folks `round here a little stubborn about payin' their taxes. Wouldn't hurt ta have another ' collector."

"Hmmm." Xena stroked her chin. She dismounted and helped Gabrielle down. She watched the other warriors approach. "Depends. Can you use two?"

"Two?" The man snorted. "You mean her? She more than decoration?"

"Oh, absolutely. Wanna see?"

The man's face darkened. "Maybe you best get goin'. We got more important things ta take care of."

"You chicken?"

"What'd you say?"

"`Fraid to test my friend here?"

"C'mon, Snake. Don't pay her no mind."

"Yeah, place's almost burned down. Time we see if these folks're ready ta pay up."

Snake continued scowling at the strangers. Something in the dark-haired one's eyes warned him not to turn his back. He didn't like the blonde's confidence either.

"Turk, c'mere. She's `bout your age and size. When ya finish with `er, maybe she'll be your girl."

The others laughed. A young man swaggered up beside Snake.

"Sure. No sweat. Kinda cute. I'll try not ta mess up her face."

Gabrielle raised a brow at Xena. "You sure about this?"

"Piece o' cake. I got your back."

"Mm."

Gabrielle started toward Turk, twirling her staff a bit to loosen up. Turk unsheathed his sword. Gabrielle struck it from his hands in one move and sent him sprawling with her second move. The others rushed her. Xena focused on Snake and a couple others. When she'd dispatched them, she joined the farmers in cheering on Gabrielle as she polished off the rest.

"Who is she?" one of the farmers asked Xena. "She's amazing."

"Name's Gabrielle. Does this all the time. Kinda modest. Won't ask for thanks. Be sure ta give it anyway."

*****

Xena pried out the chicken leg clutched in the still fist. Pulled furs up around the motionless body. Gabrielle had been eating one minute, fallen into exhausted sleep the next. Xena doubted she'd get caught rifling through the bard's bag. The warrior took out a blank scroll. Carefully sliced off a section near the bottom. Retrieved a quill and pot of ink. Carried the items over to the fire and dropped down cross-legged. After gazing out a moment, she touched the quill tip to her tongue and began to write.

*****

"Mmmmm." Gabrielle sat up and stretched. She noted the sun's position. "Xena! Why didn't you wake me?"

Xena glanced over from heating leftovers. "Got an appointment somewhere?"

"Noooo."

"Seemed to need the rest."

"Mm." Gabrielle yawned. "Can't remember the last time I was so tired."

"How're ya feelin' now?"

Gabrielle rotated her head. "Good, actually. Wow, did I have some vivid dreams."

"Yeah?"

"Uh huh." Gabrielle languidly got up and joined the warrior. "So we're not in any hurry?"

"Nope."

"Excellent. Got some ideas brewing." Gabrielle sniffed the contents of their skillet. She grinned. "After breakfast of course."

*****

"This is weird."

Xena sat gutting the fish she'd caught while Gabrielle worked on her scroll. "What's that."

"These last few entries. I was so caught up in them, I didn't realize. They're mostly about ' me. Not that obsession nonsense. Since then."

"Yeah?" Xena smiled, pleasantly surprised. "Nothin' wrong with that."

"No '. I guess not. Except '." Gabrielle reviewed what she'd written. "Am I losing my objectivity? I mean, it's okay to have some personal stuff. It's just, I set out to chronicle your '." She cocked her head. "Hmmm. Perhaps there's another reason."

"Oh?"

"Uh huh. It's possible there's less of you because ' there's less of you." She narrowed her eyes. "In the action department. Seems I'm doing most of the work again."

"Like I said, nothing wrong with that." Xena glanced up. "I'd like to hear it."

"Hear what?"

"What you've written."

"You want me to read it to you? Now?"

"Fish won't be ready for awhile. Probably wrap it for the road anyway. I've had my run. Sharpened my sword. Don't think I have any appointments either."

Gabrielle hesitated, torn between bashfulness and anticipation. "It's still pretty raw. Kind of rambling. You sure - ."

"Gabri-ellle."

"Okay, okay."

Gabrielle got comfortable and recited her recollections of the past few days - some from what she'd written, some fleshed out in her recounting. More than the usual feelings about doing good deeds and lessons learned, she noted her "action" moments - her ever-improving physical prowess, descriptions of her fight techniques, reactions of opponents, the satisfaction of a well-placed strike. About a half hour later, she grinned sheepishly.

"Whew. More than I thought."

"I like it." Xena snorted wryly "A lot better'n mine." She winced, realizing what she'd said.

"Better than my stories about you?" Gabrielle frowned. "When did you hear them?"

"Um '. Well, I imagine '. You know, from what others say, like Minya."

Gabrielle regarded Xena suspiciously. "Sure you haven't been reading `em on the sly?" She pawed through the scrolls in her bag. "Why didn't you just ask '. Wait a minute." She unfurled a clean sheet of parchment and laid it on the ground, measuring it with her hands. "Xena!" She shook the parchment at her companion. "This is definitely shorter. You gonna tell me some squirrels did it? With their little teeth and paws? Carried a piece off for their memoirs?"

Xena ducked her head. "Gabrielle '."

"Learned your lesson, my foot! You're supposed to be so tough. Your 'delicate parts' too delicate for the average leaf? They jealous because I use the parchment to - ."

"I used it for ' writing."

"What?" Gabrielle could barely hear Xena. "For what?"

Xena gritted her teeth. "Writing."

"Writing?"

"Notes mostly."

"Notes?"

"Didn't know you were doing it too."

"Doing it 'too'? Doing what?" Gabrielle stared at Xena. "These notes? About me?"

"I wouldn't've messed with your scrolls otherwise."

"You were recording me?" Gabrielle continued staring at the silent warrior, who actually looked embarrassed. She envisioned Xena hunched over a piece of parchment in the firelight, her precise, bold letters slowly capturing her sidekick's exploits. She crawled over and rested her hand on the warrior's arm. "That is so '. I'm '. Can I see them?"

"Gabrielle, I told you. It's nothing compared to yours. Better you than me."

"Please?"

"It's '. It's not worthy of you, Gabrielle. I'd hate you to think that's what '." Xena's head dropped. "You'll be disappointed."

"Xena, simply knowing you thought about it. That you cared enough to try. How could I be disappointed?"

Doubtful blue eyes searched encouraging green ones. Xena stuck her hand into the bodice of her battledress and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. "I lost the first one. I guess during a fight. Had to start over from memory. This doesn't '."

"Read it anyway?"

Xena resignedly opened the parchment. She blew out a breath. "`Gabrielle really kicked butt the other day.'" She peered up. "When we ran into Meccenus and his boys again. After Joxer left us." She resumed reading. "`There were about a dozen opponents at the inn. Gabrielle took down four by herself, with her staff. Then we caught two robbers on the road. I '.'" She swallowed. "`I let Gabrielle take them on alone. She used her staff and some good kicks. The family was really grateful.

"`Today was the best so far. Gabrielle challenged a warlord's goon. She only needed a couple moves for him. She got about three other warriors. The farmers cheered her on. Called her amazing. Wanted to know her name. Didn't ask mine. Finally. She gathered the children around for a story. Thankfully not about me. Later we met a few ruffians intimidating some merchants. Gabrielle could've handled them but looked ready to drop, so I took care of it.'" Head bowed, Xena rested her hands in her lap. "That's it."

Gabrielle sat quietly a moment. "Not quite what I expected," she murmured. "What were you thinking?"

"It was silly, I know. Not sure what I would've done with it." Xena looked up. "Please, you mustn't believe that's all '." She pressed her lips together, afraid to make bad things worse.

"It's not silly. I meant, why?"

"You write things down that're important to you. I use a sword." Xena snorted. "Figured I'd try the quill for a change." She smiled apologetically. "Sorry about the extra calluses. Needed to give my subject matter a little boost."

Gabrielle lifted the parchment from Xena's hand. She ran her fingers across the dark strokes. "I'd never met anyone like you before. Someone bigger than life. It was so exciting." She chuckled. "Sort of like being a fly on the wall, witnessing great and wonderful things. Sure, it got to me sometimes being in your shadow, but not really so much about being noticed. I wondered how I could ever compare. Be worthy of what you'd set out to do."

"Worthy?! Gabrielle, you inspired -."

"I know that now. I don't worry anymore about being you. I know you love me for all the things that make us different. Appreciate me for who I am." Gabrielle pressed the parchment to her breast. "But realizing how much you respect me for what you do? As a warrior? Truly equal in every way?" Her eyes misted. "Who cares if I can ever run up walls or take out a whole army? Whether people chant my name? That's how you see me, Xena. That's what's important to me. Just as you say you can be a hero because you see it in my eyes."

Xena bit her lip, her heart too full for words that would ever do. She pulled Gabrielle to her and rested her chin on the gold head. "You always know what to say." She snorted softly. "Good thing one of us does."

"Hmmm. Not so sure about that. Two warriors in the family is challenging enough. Two bards? Scary."

Xena chuckled. "Think we're safe on that count." She gave Gabrielle a squeeze.

"Can I keep this?"

The warrior shrugged. "If ya want. Kinda glad to know people'll have a better version. Hope yours finds its way out there some day. Besides," she said, her eyes soft, "guess I don't really need it for myself." She placed her hand over her chest. "It's already written. Here."

Gabrielle smiled her thanks. She folded the parchment and pushed it into her top. "I kind of like it there too."

"Fish is ready to travel," Xena said scooting back over to the fire. "You up to moving out? Doing more of your hero stuff?"

Gabrielle cringed. "Um, I'm thinkin' it's time my sidekick got more action again. Couple more days as the main deal, I'll be sleeping on my feet."

"You got it." Xena's mouth puckered. "Doesn't change I'm still not lettin' those idiots ignore you."

"Yes, O Obsessive One. Try not to hurt any of `em, okay?" Gabrielle got up and hobbled around the camp. "See this black eye?" she croaked out. "Got it from the Warrior Princess. Uh huh. Whacked me `cause I didn't say 'thank you' fast enough to that adorable tagalong of hers. Um, you know '. What's `er name. Mavis?"

Cheeks sucked in, Xena uncurled to her feet. "Seems you're not the only one around here being underappreciated."

Gabrielle blinked. "Oh? How so?"

"I have many skills. Why do they always involve whacking somebody?"

"Um, well, I didn't mean -."

"What about my creativity? So I stink at barding." Xena crouched, picked up a twig and scratched in the dirt a stick figure in a sports bra and skirt, holding a staff. "I could make posters of you. Tack `em up around town. Maybe write, 'Hail Gabrielle! She deserves your thanks.'" She tossed her hair Gabrielle's way. "Or my persuasiveness." She sauntered over to a rock, sat on it and pretended to distribute items on an invisible table.

"Hi," she greeted an imaginary guest. "Step right up. I've started a club for Gabrielle. Dedicated to how she's the woman behind Xena's much more acclaimed and rather inflated reputation. Aren't ya just dyin' ta have a memento of this unsung hero?" She gestured toward her "table." "A sketch perhaps? Signed scroll? Some threads from that gorgeous swatch of material she wears up top? Guaranteed to have her scent, by the way. Or maybe you'd prefer -."

"Xena?"

"Yes, O Underappreciated One?"

"My mistake. How `bout I agree you're multi-dimensionally talented."

"That's a good start."

"And whacking people is an excellent technique. Far superior to many others you might consider on my behalf."

"Good conclusion." Xena grinned. "See, I can negotiate when I'm moved."

Gabrielle rolled her tongue in her cheek. "Yeah, well, I think it's time we both moved on. If, of course, you're finished with your ' customers?"

"My custom '. Oh." Grinning, Xena got up, bowed to the air, and walked over to gather her things. "Yeah. They gotta go anyway. Don't wanna miss the exhibit I planned for `em."

"Do I dare ask of what?"

"Your clothing, silly. How your different garb reflects your development. From a simple peasant girl to '." Xena gave Gabrielle's current ensemble the once over. "To ' um ' who you are now," she finished smugly.

The word "insufferable" tempted Gabrielle's tongue. She reminded herself which one of them was supposed to prefer the high road. "Why, thank you, Xena," she responded sweetly. "How typical of you. Your powers of observation know no bounds." Flashing a superior smile, she began packing her bag.

The two broke camp without conversation, occasionally shaking their heads in long-suffering amusement at the goofiness they had to put up with in each other. Soon they and Argo headed out.

"All in all, seems Aphrodite accidentally did some good," Gabrielle observed as she walked beside Xena. "You resolved your guilt about Lyceus. I got out my 'teensy' resentments about being sidekick."

"Uh huh. Joxer got to be a true primate." Xena's shoulders began shaking. "Not to mention up under your intimate apparel."

"Xeenaa!" Laughing, Gabrielle swatted the warrior's arm. "I was saving that gown for a special occasion. Certainly not covering Joxer's intimates while he swung through trees eating worms." She shuddered. "Gotta remind myself there're more troublesome things we could've been obsessed with." Her mind drifted back to a mural in Aphrodite's temple. "Like those ' love ' positions I still can't believe humanly possible," she said to herself.

"Those what?"

"Uh, nothing." Gabrielle shook her head clear of the rather intriguing images that kept popping up in her dreams. "You know, since we're on this 'celebrate Gabrielle' kick, maybe something else good came out of Aphrodite's spell."

"Hey, if it's about patting you on the back, I'm in."

"Great. I've been wanting to work on different forms of barding. Might've fit in well with your idea about a club." Eyes twinkling, Gabrielle cleared her throat. She launched into a hearty rendition of her recently composed song. "Well, listen to my story about Gabrielle/Cute little gal that's lookin' really swell/Perfect hair, such a lovely lass/Nice round breasts and a firm young -."

"Gabri-ellle?!"

"Too inappropriate for the non-adult audience?"

"And you accuse me of pushing the limits? Humph. I'd say that's one way an Amazon Queen definitely beats a Warrior Princess."

"Wow." Gabrielle tilted her head thoughtfully. "You mean, perhaps it wasn't just the enchantment? Could it be true? I really am flawless?"

Xena raised an incredulous brow. "You are an amazement, that's for sure. Maybe just as well the world doesn't know how amazing."

*****

"What's that?"

The man dusted off a piece of parchment he'd found by the road. "Not sure. Got some scribbles on it." He shoved it at his wife. "You know, I don't ' see ' so good."

"Right." The woman snorted softly. She scanned the parchment. "Hmm. May be part of a story. About a warrior named Gabrielle. Mentions Xena too."

"The Warrior Princess?"

"Seems so."

"Guy at the inn said she came through a few days ago. Said she got some cute peasant girl taggin' along."

"Not according to this. Writer's tired of hearing 'Xena, Xena, Xena.' Goes on about how well this Gabrielle fights. Why she's behind Xena's good reputation, her success on her new path. Claims Gabrielle's the real hero but people don't always see it."

"Might be one of those fanciful bards, don't know what he's talkin' `bout."

The woman shrugged. "Details sound like the writer's pretty acquainted with them. Listen to this: 'The only reason Xena does any good at all in this world is because she does it with Gabrielle. Gabrielle makes an important contribution every day. Xena promised Gabrielle she would make sure people know that from now on.'"

"Like I said, mush ta me. Wished I'd seen Xena in action. S'posed ta be amazing."

The woman cut her eyes at her husband. "Writer seems to think Gabrielle's amazing." She fingered the parchment thoughtfully. "Believe I'll hold on to this. Could be important. Maybe this bard meant to set the record straight. Spread the word the 'sidekick's' due her share of credit too." She smiled to herself. "Who knows? Maybe it'll start with me."

THE END

[faveficarchive]

A FLY IN THE OINTMENT

By IseQween

September 2001

The following is a continuation of my post-FIN "The Ghost of A Smile." You don't have to read "Ghost," though it does introduce characters and events referred to in this story. Beware lots of spoilers, especially for seasons 5 and 6. -- IQ

Gabrielle chewed thoughtfully on the shaft of her quill. Of all the battles she'd fought, few cost more sweat and tears than this one. It wasn't over yet, but if they won, the victory would be sealed in ink, not blood. The document she labored over served as their anthem. It sang of nearly everything she'd loved and worked for. Her hopes for peace and compassion. Her dreams for a strong Amazon nation. Her desire that Xena live on through her legacy of defending the greater good.

She glanced fondly at the urn on her desk. She'd had it specially made to hold her soulmate's ashes. Its bronze swirls duplicated the design on the warrior's signature breastplates. The lid copied Xena's joined dark and light chakrams. Gabrielle ran her fingers lightly over the sculpted images. "You said I could do it. I never should have doubted you." Sighing, she returned her attention to the unfinished scroll in front of her. "Now, if only I could find the right words '."

Bzzzzzzz.

Gabrielle swatted distractedly at the insect hovering near her nose. It flew a short distance away, only to return when Gabrielle put pen to parchment. She frowned and swatted again. This time the winged annoyance landed on Gabrielle's scroll. It was a fly. She blew on it, sending it skidding until it gained its balance and flew off. Gabrielle resumed trying to write.

Bzzzzzzz.

"Curses." Gabrielle glared at the fly, which proceeded to circle her head. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as they followed the insect shoot straight up toward the ceiling, then dive into a series of loops that ended lazily on the scroll. Gabrielle stared at the fly. It stared back. She shook her head, smiled thinly and leaned forward until they were eye to eye.

"Very impressive." The fly fluttered its wings. "However, your acrobatics aren't helping me much here. I'd appreciate if you'd practice elsewhere until I can be more properly attentive." The fly held its ground. Gabrielle held hers. It inched its way onto Gabrielle's hand.

"Uh uh. Sweet, but no cookies. Shoosh." The insect flew off to rest on Xena's urn. "Nice try, but guilt won't work either." The fly didn't move. "Fine. Stay there. But if I hear another sound from you, I'm going for the bug spray."

"Scout Leader?"

She turned to see a young girl standing tentatively in the doorway. Her Amazon leathers were unadorned, save for a diagonal slash of purple cloth with a small "X" at the shoulder embroidered in gold. Gabrielle smiled broadly, stood and gave the girl a salute. "Yes, Scout Tania, how may I help you?"

Tania suppressed a grin, returning the salute smartly. "Pardon me, Leader Gabrielle. The troop has finished its drills and wishes to know if you would like to review our form."

"Good, Scout Tania. If you're any better than my last review, I'm afraid you might embarrass the Amazon warriors. Please tell the others they're finished for the day. I'll review them once more before the ceremony."

Tania beamed. "Yes, Leader Gabrielle, I will do as you say." She stood tall and snapped her right hand to her forehead, before relaxing and letting out a giggle. "Bye, Gabrielle. And, um, you have a fly in your hair," she added jovially, skipping off.

"Xena?!!!! Xena, get ' out ' of ' my ' hair! This instant!"

The fly went back to the urn.

"No. You had your chance. You know how important this is to me. I'm sorry, but you're too much of a distraction. Find something else to amuse yourself that doesn't involve interrupting me."

The fly slowly lifted off from the urn, hovered a moment, then headed away.

"And Xena?"

The fly hesitated, its wings fluttering expectantly.

"I want to see you tonight."

The fly buzzed quietly out the door, just as Marta came rushing in. "Ugh," she said, ducking her head away from the exiting insect. "I hate flies."

Gabrielle winced. "Um, well, they're basically harmless, if annoying sometimes." She gazed fondly at the young redhead who'd been tagging along with her the last few years. Marta had matured into quite the scholar, soaking up every drop of wisdom that came from Gabrielle's lips or from the varied people they'd met on their travels. She was getting pretty good with a staff too, despite little desire to excel at physical skills. But the orphaned young woman idolized Gabrielle and was interested in whatever interested her mentor and, now, family.

"So, what's your news? You look like the hydra that swallowed a harpy."

Marta laughed. "Yes," she said excitedly. "The shipments of scrolls and tapestries have begun arriving. Eve's plowing through them now."

"Oh? Anything special?"

"Maybe," Marta said mysteriously. "I'm not permitted to speak about it, though." At Gabrielle's scowl, she added, "It's a surprise."

"Great," Gabrielle mumbled. "That's all I need. More surprises."

"Don't worry. It's nothing like that bunch of gargantuan sailors Singer conscripted to help us with the building."

Gabrielle laughed. "Good. But I have to admit they've helped enormously. Everything else going okay?"

"Yep. That's my progress report." Marta hugged herself. "I am soooo excited. I can't believe how calm you are."

"I don't have time to be anything else," Gabrielle chuckled. "Still no rumblings from Melop and his gang?"

"Nope. You must've really scared the pants off him during your last ' negotiations."

"Let's hope so. And when you see Eve, remind her it's not nice to trick Mother Gabrielle."

"Will do," Marta said, grinning. "Anything I can help you with before I go?"

Gabrielle sighed. "No, afraid not. You're doing a great job helping coordinate things. Just keep it up."

Marta blushed. "Thanks. I'll go check on Singer's group."

Gabrielle plopped back down in her chair. She eyed the incomplete scroll, then the pile of other ones on her desk that needed attention. Her thoughts drifted anyway to another hairy issue. She rested her head in her hands. "Gods," she muttered. "What's with her? She's the inspiration for all this. I know she's proud of me, yet makes me want to squish her every chance she gets."

She made a quick mental scan of everything that needed to be done. Three more days. Just three more days and so much would fall into place. She had to stay focused. Surely Xena of all people should understand that. Gabrielle looked wistfully at the urn before collecting herself once again for the task at hand.

*****

Gabrielle took her time preparing for bed. This was the most anxious she'd felt in four years. Sure, she'd had her ups and downs coming to terms with Xena's death in Japa. Even now there were times when the warrior's spirit was not enough. She knew she could count on Xena's wisdom during her contemplation of big issues, that Xena would be a comfort in her darkest hours. What she missed most was the carefree physicality -- like water fights, elbow nudges, or that game they played where one of them "fell out" and required resuscitation. But for the most part, she'd felt fulfilled, especially once her travels and studies had led her to the grand idea that rekindled her sense of purpose. And Xena had been with her, mostly as a presence she felt inside, but often glimpsed in a child's vulnerability, a mule's stubbornness, or in the shadowed beauty as the sun set and in the radiant promise of its rise.

She moved in front of the mirror that hung above her dressing table. She knew that face well. She'd made herself gaze into those eyes often enough, at first to see if they still had life in them. Examined the tiny lines at their corners for signs of good times, as well as of time itself. Wondered whether those lips would dry into husks that could continue to speak the truth and not crack. Practiced focusing on that still young visage to the point where she could see herself more than Xena.

She felt a warmth at her back, around her shoulders. She shifted her gaze up a little and smiled. Yes. She didn't have to see Xena to know that her soulmate was behind her. Her eyes caught something dangling from the mirror. It was the tiny Xena she'd fashioned that time the warrior had to single-handedly fight a Persian army. For a long time Gabrielle had worn the stick-and-leather doll nestled between her breasts. Until a couple of years ago, when she'd finally believed her soulmate would always be everywhere, anywhere, whenever Gabrielle needed her.

She looked once more in the mirror. She nodded. Yes, it was a good face, a peaceful face. The face of someone she was grateful to know. Still, she reached up and took the stick doll from its place on the frame. She tied it around her neck, tenderly tucking it into her nightshirt near her heart. She'd be seeing Xena tonight as she hadn't in some time. She had a feeling she'd need all the reassurance she could get. She blew out the candles, lay down on her bed, relaxed as best she could, and closed her eyes.

"You're sure I'm not 'interrupting' anything."

Gabrielle turned to her side to see Xena standing rigidly next to the bed. Gabrielle smiled. "Quite sure. In case you've forgotten, you're here at my express invitation."

"Well, I know you have more important things on your mind than the ghost of some old has-been warrior," Xena responded, continuing to stand. "I didn't want to be presumptuous."

Gabrielle clenched her jaws, then nonchalantly slid her hand over the doll's resting place, reminding herself to shift into sensitive-chat mode. "Xena, I much prefer talking to you like this, than to a fly on the wall."

Xena's posture loosened up a bit. One corner of her mouth twitched. "I see you've got that dolly in there again. That could be a bad sign, like maybe you want to smother me." Xena's mouth curled into a semi-grin. "If you could."

"No, silly." Gabrielle moved to the far edge of the bed and held out her arms. "Though I haven't quite given up on that yet."

Xena rolled her eyes, then cautiously put one knee on the bed. "No swatting?"

"No swatting. Promise. Now get your pesty self in here. This instant."

Xena suppressed a grin. She stretched out on her back, legs crossed, hands behind her head.

Gabrielle rolled her eyes. She scooted over, resting her head in its customary place on Xena's chest, relieved when long arms soon pulled her in closer.

"Comfy? Contrary to popular opinion, we flies aim to please."

"Mmm. Quite."

"We haven't done this in awhile."

Gabrielle lifted her head and brushed Xena's cheek. "I know. It's not just that I've been busy. I guess I didn't think we needed words so much anymore."

"Yeah," Xena sighed, stroking Gabrielle's arm. "So what'd you want to talk about?"

"Flies," Gabrielle replied, still looking up.

Xena stopped stroking. "Flies?"

"Uh huh." Gabrielle laid her head back down. "Normally they bring out the 'kill 'em all' in me, but there's this one special fly I was hoping you could help me with."

Xena tensed. "You mean, like how to get rid of it?"

Gabrielle raised up again. "I thought you were supposed to be changed now - you know, more 'save 'em all.'"

"I am, I am," Xena protested. "It's just that you seemed to feel this special fly was a ' special pest."

"No," Gabrielle responded, settling down again. "I want this one buzzing in my ear forever. I'm trying to understand why it's been behaving the way it has lately."

"Oh," Xena said, relaxing again. "What's it been doing?"

"Well, for starters, it's been shifting shapes. It's been with me for a long time now, but more ' invisible. Sort of like my own private little cheering section and sounding board. It's traveled all over the world with me, encouraged me to build a new life. I thought it wanted me to rely on myself more, that it was okay if I put to use what I'd already learned from it."

"So you didn't need to see ' this fly ' as much anymore. That's a good thing, right?"

Gabrielle raised her head again. "Oh, no, I still needed the fly. Rarely does an hour go by when I don't see it in some person or some object I might pick up. I got kinda used to that. But lately the fly's been making itself ' more obvious. One time it was a spider, another time a bee, then a cricket. It pops in to surprise me, mostly when I'm doing something I'd think it wouldn't want to distract me from."

Xena chuckled nervously. "Bad fly! Must have a dark side that needs redeeming."

"No, I don't think that's it." Gabrielle held Xena's eyes. "This particular fly has been cleansed and redeemed and sacrificed so much you can't see it anymore. Unless it has a special connection to you, like it does with me."

Xena swallowed. "So what's wrong if maybe it shows itself sometimes? You know, just to prove it hasn't disappeared."

Moving away a little, Gabrielle inched up so that the two were head to head. "To itself, or to others?"

Xena turned her eyes toward the ceiling. "I'm not sure," she answered quietly. "But it's not your problem anyway." She looked at Gabrielle with a grin that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm sorry I've been acting like such a brat. Especially now when I should get out of the way and let you shine like I've always known you would."

Gabrielle studied her soulmate a moment. "Xena, if you have a problem, then it's my problem too. We've shared that along with the good. You're not in my way. You've never been. If I shine, it's because you've given me ways to do that."

Xena brushed her hand against Gabrielle's cheek. "Thank you," she murmured. "Whatever else I may have deserved, I'll never believe I deserved you. Let's not talk about flies, okay? I really am so full of joy at what you're doing. It's what I always dreamed. Seeing you fulfill it is all that really matters."

"No, Xena, that's not all that matters. Not to me. I thought you were at peace. Just as I saw you in everything, I thought your ' existence ' was full of everything, not just me. I didn't worry about you, but I see now that maybe I should."

Xena sighed. "It's nothing, really." She chuckled. "We souls have a grand old time. I'm luckier than most because I'd already been in so many different spirit realms even when I wasn't dead. Heck, I'm known in some I hadn't visited. They're all eager to meet up with me, even some I put there." She grinned sheepishly. "You thought those loops I did earlier were impressive. Well, news of the 40,000 souls I saved traveled far and wide. Seems I set some kind of record."

Gabrielle grinned. "That's my girl. Always the champion, no matter what field." She felt an answering rumble in her soulmate's chest. They lay quietly, until Gabrielle suddenly raised up and regarded Xena curiously.

"You're bored."

"Pfff. Me? Bored? You gotta be kidding." Gabrielle continued to look at her. "Oh, come on. I get to commune with dead folks from around the globe. Mortals see or speak of me even when I'm not there. I can be a bird and soar higher than I ever did with my flips. I can peek in on you or be there for you, which I like most. How could all that possibly be boring?" She looked to Gabrielle for confirmation. Gabrielle didn't seem to be buying. Xena sighed. "Yeah, okay. Sometimes I'm bored."

Gabrielle resisted the terrible urge to laugh. Boredom might sound innocent enough, but not when it involved Xena. Instead, she gave her soulmate a sympathetic squeeze and carefully considered her next words.

"You know what's funny?"

"What?"

"I was afraid I was boring you."

"What?!! You? Never. How could you think that?"

"All those questions I had, those mistakes I was afraid to make. You'd already been there, done that. You were right about it being good for me to try things on my own, to have confidence in my judgement. After awhile I thought that was best for you too. I realize now that maybe I gave you the wrong impression."

Xena shook her head. "No, you're not taking the blame for this. I did what I thought was right, with no real idea of what it meant. I got peace, but it wasn't the freedom from earthly cares that most of the other souls have." Xena gazed wryly at her soulmate. "We knew our connection was strong. Boy, is it ever."

Gabrielle smiled gently. "So it is partly my fault."

Xena rolled her eyes. "Maybe so. Happy now?"

"Infinitely. Tell me more."

Xena glared. "You know, I always suspected you were the evil one." She begrudged a lop-sided grin, accompanied by a kiss to Gabrielle's forehead. "I'm such a ninny," she sighed, relaxing back onto the bed and nudging Gabrielle back to her chest.

"At first everything was fine. You needed me more then - I mean, to help you through indecision or ' or through your pain at losing me like that. As you got stronger, you needed more space to figure out things on your own. I didn't mind knowing less and less of your thoughts. It was fun being surprised. I could see how good you felt learning just how much you're capable of. And you had Marta and Singer with you, and later Eve. It touched my heart to see how you supported each other, how they came to treasure you as I do."

"But?" Gabrielle prodded softly as Xena fell silent.

"That's when I started checking out the other spirit realms. I figured it was time for me to find a ' an 'existence,' as you call it ' for myself, till we met up again in another life. But it wasn't enough. I was still drawn to you, to your world. Except there wasn't much for me there either."

Gabrielle nodded. "I see. These last couple of years must've been really tough for you, with me so focused on my grand plans."

Xena kissed the beloved blond head. "And it's coming together wonderfully. I'm so proud of you. I knew you could do it."

"But you felt left out. Invisible."

"Worse," Xena admitted. "As much as I wanted that dream fulfilled, I feared it would mean exactly what I said I wanted for you." Xena closed her eyes. "A life of your own."

"Oh, Xena. You mean without you? Without thinking of you or needing you?"

"Yeah," Xena murmured, so softly Gabrielle barely heard her. "I pictured you with such a full life, surrounded by people who needed you. Saying 'thank you' to my urn, then storing it away in some cupboard where it belongs."

Gabrielle raised up again and took Xena's face in her hands. "Xena, I want you with me tomorrow. I'm working on a couple of documents that I must do by myself. But if you promise to be quiet, not to crawl up my arm or otherwise startle the life out of me, you can visit in whatever form you like."

"Could I tickle your toes, maybe as an ant?"

"Only if I'm not writing or trying to have a serious conversation with someone. Deal?"

Xena grinned. "Deal."

*****

Gabrielle dotted the last "i" and crossed the final "t" on the all-important document she'd been worrying over the last couple of days. She surveyed the completed scrolls on her desk. "Done," she said to herself with satisfaction and more than a modicum of relief. "And not a moment too soon."

She threw a kiss to the fly on the wall, which, as agreed, had stayed out of her hair. It zipped across the room a few times, did a series of intricate dive bombs, buzzed some laps around her head, then finally came to rest on her shoulder.

"I know, I know," she laughed. "Must've been Tartarus having to sit still that long. I hope the wait is worth it." The fly fluttered its wings excitedly. Gabrielle had spent the last couple nights with Xena, but hadn't told the warrior everything about her plans. She knew Xena was bursting to see all that Gabrielle had wrought. "Go on, now. I'll be out in a little while. I've got a couple things to do that won't be helped if I'm lulled into those enchantingly beady eyes." She wasn't sure how, but the fly managed what appeared to be indignation before it winged its way through the door.

Gabrielle walked into her sleeping quarters. She donned her most impressive Amazon leathers, which just happened to complement the purple sash she draped across her shoulder. She stood before her mirror, making sure every hair was in place. She gazed into the eyes that smiled back at her, green with confidence and serenity. "This is for you," she murmured. "And you," she said, stroking the gold "X" at the top of the sash. "For both of us."

"Gabrielle? You here?" It was Marta.

Gabrielle walked back into her office. "Yes. Is it time?"

Marta gasped. "Oh, Gabrielle, you look positively beautiful!"

"Thank you. I figured if there was any time to pull out all the stops, this was it."

"All the dignitaries are here. Singer said we can start the tours as soon as you're ready."

"All right, then," Gabrielle said, straightening her shoulders and striding for the door. "Let's do it."

*****

Even Gabrielle was stunned. The presentation platform seemed more like an Athenian stage than a structure cobbled together on the outskirts of Amazonia. Large strips of purple and gold satin hung at intervals from a tall frame mounted on the floor. Bouquets of flowers in every hue ringed and softened the edges. Girls with purple sashes stood at ramrod attention on either side of a long purple runner that led to and covered the few steps up to the platform. At the top gleamed a podium painted in gold. Gabrielle gave a sideways look at Marta and Eve, wondering which one of them was guilty of this flair for the dramatic. Both beamed back at her with no shame whatsoever.

"Gabrielle's coming!" someone yelled. The large assemblage began to quiet. Gabrielle proceeded down the carpet, the girls along her path saluting her in succession as she passed. When she reached the top step and turned, the blaring of trumpets startled her into nearly taking an ignominious tumble down the steps she'd just climbed. Teeth gritted behind her smile, she vowed never again to tell anyone to use their imagination.

Gabrielle stood in front of the podium and gazed lovingly at those gathered before her. "I am Gabrielle. It is with great pride and humility that I invite you to see what wonders you have helped create. Welcome," she said, spreading out her arms. "Welcome to the Village of Dreams - your home whenever you need it."

A roar of approval met her words. She waited for the din to quiet, thankful that it gave her a few moments to stem the tears streaming down her face and to find the voice that threatened to choke into silence. Marta and Eve made their way to the platform to flank her. She squeezed their hands in appreciation. She nodded at the third presence she felt at her back. Eyes still brimming, she cleared her throat and forged on.

"This afternoon, you'll have a chance to sample what the Village has to offer." Gabrielle took a deep breath as she surveyed the neat new buildings within eyesight. She pointed to her left. "That way is the hospice. It has healers to care for mind, body and spirit. Over there is the library. Its scrolls, tapestries and other works will take you on journeys to lands from every part of the world." Gabrielle gestured to an area behind the platform. "That section is devoted to developing the talents of girls and young women. They will be on the practice field throughout the afternoon, demonstrating their leadership and physical skills. Most of the smaller huts you see in the residential area will serve as quarters for refugees from disaster, abuse and bigotry."

Gabrielle put an arm around the waists of the two young women beside her. "Marta and Eve will be your guides. We'll meet back here before sunset for the official ceremony. Enjoy."

*****

The Village of Dreams couldn't have opened to a more perfect day. The late Spring sun warmed the celebrants just enough to allow those from both the hottest and coldest climes to wear their traditional garb. The rainbow of faces and costumes blended naturally in the wooded oasis verdant with wildlife. Birds and a nearby waterfall added their voices to the symphony of sounds emanating from varied instruments and throats throughout the compound. Open grassy areas joined the practice and planting fields with the housing and activity sections. Large trees protected the roughly circular layout and provided shade in strategically located relaxation spots. A communion-meditation hall centered the village, its cone-shaped roof alive with fluttering bright ribbons that beckoned any and all to join in.

Gabrielle peered out from behind one of the drapes on the presentation platform, which she had surreptitiously mounted again shortly after the tours began. It was a dream all right - one she still couldn't believe was real. But the people milling about had believed in it - in her - even when she had doubts. Some had begun sending her items and preparing for their trip here before the first public structure had been raised.

She noted the ebony-skinned guests conversing with Amazons outside the hospice. They were representatives from M'Lila's homeland. Word reached there long ago about how the abducted young woman had been freed by a warlord turned hero who later became known for "the pinch" and bronze swirls she'd borrowed from M'Lila. Singer had found M'Lila's people on one of his voyages. They felt honored to participate in efforts that Gabrielle credited M'Lila for helping inspire.

Near the refugee section, a clump of men and a Centaur seemed to be arguing the finer points of hut construction. Many were children of violence who knew intimately of the need for safe havens. Virgil had watched his father, Joxer, die at the hand of Xena's daughter Eve. Ephiny's son Xenon had barely escaped the massacre that wiped out his people because they walked on four legs rather than two. Next to him stood Borias' son Belach - the perpetrator of that heinous deed as well as grandfather to Xenon's own son. Belach donated most of the funds needed for these homes, the first of which had been inhabited by Xenon's little family.

Gabrielle swept her gaze over to a small group of women talking with her sister Lilla in front of the communion hall. She recognized one as Lao Ma's daughter Pao Ssu and another as the Norse Valkyrie Grinhilda. The other women appeared to be from Japa. Gabrielle's eyes misted when she realized they were probably relatives of the souls Xena had died freeing. She felt a gentle caress across her cheek, a whisper in her ear, knowing it to be more than the light breeze that stirred the ribbons atop the communion hall. She closed her eyes and folded her arms around the satin drape, hugging it to her. It meant so much to see dreams come together like this, to share it all with Xena. She wondered, not for the first time, how a body could ache with so much with joy.

*****

Lamps and firelight now supplemented the sun's dimming glow. Laughter, drums and savory scents filled the early evening air. Youngsters squirmed impatiently, while adults shifted where they sat with barely contained anticipation. They watched the procession of dignitaries and honorees file to the presentation platform. Gabrielle smiled down at them. They were all like children at a magic show. She hoped they didn't lose their wonder and enthusiasm when they realized what lay behind maintaining its reality.

Singer stepped to the podium. "May we have your attention please!" he boomed in his resonantly deep voice. Once he had everyone's attention, he graced them with a moving song he'd composed especially for the occasion. Gabrielle grinned at him with the usual affection. The multi-talented sailor had been a rock to her since she'd met him on the ship from Japa. She and Marta had journeyed with him, waited eagerly for him to meet them in various ports, relied on him to spread word of their project and to help build their dream. He'd been the first to help her free Xena to more than a memory of what couldn't be and to free herself for the possibilities of what could.

"Thank you," Gabrielle said to him when he had finished. She hugged the surprisingly bashful man of the world. "`Listen For The Sound Behind' is beautiful." She glanced at her shoulder and whispered, "We couldn't have asked for a more fitting song."

Singer smiled conspiratorially. "My pleasure," he whispered back. "I thought she'd like it."

Gabrielle walked over to the podium, which was piled with scrolls. "All right," she shouted with a mischievous grin, "let's seal this deal!" The crowed laughed in agreement.

"Will the representatives please step forward."

One by one, representatives from the surrounding communities approached the podium, including Gabrielle's niece Sarah from Poteidaia, Xena's nephew Xoris from Amphipolis, Singer's brother Lyceus from Lythos, and the Amazon Queen Cyane.

"You have all read through these treaties, correct?" They nodded. "Then I will simply summarize their contents for all present." They nodded again.

"Let's begin with the defense agreement," Gabrielle said, selecting the top scroll. "Your people have agreed to establish a combined force to protect the area, each other and, especially, the Village of Dreams. Are there any objections to the terms outlined for the composition, leadership or duties of this force?" No one objected. "I call for signatures to this copy, which will be kept in the Village. We will provide duplicates to be signed later this evening, which each of you can take with you." The representatives signed.

Gabrielle held up a second scroll. "This trade agreement covers the goods and services that will be exchanged between the Village and your communities. Each community has been designated to provide the Village with a particular resource, such as food, transportation, building supplies or skills. In return, the village will provide a haven for those of you in need, including the care of orphans until they become of age. You will also have full access to our library, communion hall and grounds when they are not in use by the Village. Are there any objections to the conditions set forth in this document?" There were none, so everyone signed.

"This next document is the key to all we dreamed of accomplishing today. It is a pledge to support the principles governing this Village, which seek to promote peace, safety, understanding, and growth. No one will be turned away because of who they are. This is not a sanctuary for those seeking to escape punishment for some crime. However, individuals' rights to privacy and voluntary departure will be respected unless the agreed upon documentation or the Village council establishes otherwise."

Gabrielle paused and turned to the onlookers. Her hand slid up to stroke the gold "X" at her shoulder. When she began speaking again, her voice was heavy with emotion.

"I have known those who should have had the innocence of babes, who instead had rage in their hearts and came to harm nearly everyone in sight. I have known those who harmed, yet had love in their hearts and came to defend nearly everyone in sight. I won't promise you that we can always tell the difference, because sometimes those people may be one and the same. I can only say that, if I hadn't tried, we probably wouldn't be here today. I ask you to think long and hard before you commit to do likewise."

A hush settled over the assemblage. They knew Gabrielle was putting her faith - their faith - on the line. A line that went straight through the heart of a certain Warrior Princess' legacy. Most knew of Xena through hearsay and believed the good parts because they believed in Gabrielle. Some believed the good because that's all they had experienced. A few had been touched by both the bad and the good. Regardless, Xena seemed larger than life, a mystery, a phantom that wouldn't show up at their door to either threaten or save them. But their neighbors - well, that was a different matter.

Many on and around the platform stole glances at their fellow celebrants. Some had fought against each other, been long-time rivals or even mortal enemies. Had competed for land, fortune or mates. Others held conflicting beliefs about everything from divine wisdom to whom one should bed. It dawned on them that this day wasn't really about a dead woman. It was about them. Whether they could trust enough to fulfill the spirit of the treaties they signed. Truly support a Village of Dreams that might harbor their fears along with their hopes.

Gabrielle inhaled deeply, wanting to breathe Xena's presence inside through every pore of her being. This had to be about the living for it to work. They needed to face themselves and their faith in others. To believe in themselves, not just in her or Xena. And so she waited, buoyed by the love and trust it was her quest to share.

"Stop! Let us through! You people are fools to listen to that woman!"

Gabrielle didn't have to look up to recognize this potential pin prick. Melop. A warlord turned politician who'd used his rag-tag "associates" to bully the entire region into accepting him as "governor." He'd taxed, extorted and terrorized the people at will -- until Gabrielle's arrival. When he learned of her activities, he pronounced her a dangerous cultist and sent emissaries to persuade her to move elsewhere. They limped back bloodied and bruised. Word of Gabrielle's successful defiance enabled her to organize a motley crew of Amazons and local villagers who convinced him they could do without his services.

With force no longer a viable option, Melop resorted to the usual divisive tactics, dredging up and fueling every old feud or bias he could. In the end, he proved to be his own downfall. Gabrielle's inter-village defense force discovered they shared common goals and learned that some "strange" ideas weren't so bad after all. The concrete threat Melop presented to their well being contributed greatly to the widespread energy and commitment that succeeded in building the Village of Dreams.

Having made his living off his victims' insecurities, Melop figured those to be his best weapon against Gabrielle's idealism. He'd swaggered into the Village with about ten cronies - enough to make a scene, but too few to have a "fair" fight with the seasoned Amazon warriors closing in menacingly on the unarmed interlopers.

"I thought this was supposed to be open to everyone!" Melop yelled at Gabrielle. "I'm one of the people. I deserve to be heard, yet you send these unnatural women in to crush us like bugs."

BZZZZZZZ.

Gabrielle turned away from the big pest in front of her to a smaller one buzzing angrily near her ear. A wasp. "No!" she said, louder than she intended. A hush fell over the assemblage, as all eyes focused on her. She cleared her throat and looked out. "I'll handle this," she instructed, signaling to the Amazons to move away from Melop's group. One of the representatives on the platform cautiously approached her to warn her about the wasp, but it flew off on its own at Gabrielle's command to the Village guards.

"Melop." Gabrielle made the name sound like something that smelled bad. "I wondered when we'd have the pleasure of your company. Please excuse our welcoming party if they were a bit overzealous. You had something to say?"

Melop stood tall and leered at the celebrants. "See what she's brought you to. You used to think for yourselves. Now you listen to a ' woman ' who follows in the footsteps of a murderer. You looked out for yourselves, protected your own. Now you get in bed with people you despise. You had morals and a way of life that your ancestors died for. Now you want to study heathens and teach womenfolk how to destroy your families. I upheld the values that allowed you all to carry on as you have for centuries. This so-called Village of Dreams will become a nightmare of chaos and back-stabbing. Come to your senses before it's too late. Leave this place with me tonight, and tomorrow we will restore it to the peacefully uninhabited valley it was before it became haunted by that woman and her gods forsaken ghost."

People murmured and shifted uneasily in their seats. They looked from Melos to Gabrielle, waiting for the latter to say something. She stood with her arms folded, looking at them.

Suddenly Belach stood. "My men slaughtered his people," he said, pointing to Xenon, "because I didn't want my daughter to be with his kind. I became the villain I wrongly accused my father of being. Now my grandson must learn true honor and integrity from the one enemy I failed to kill. I can't bring those Centaurs back, but I can make sure there's at least one place where people like that will be safe from people like me." Belach locked eyes with Xenon. Xenon nodded. Belach nodded back and resumed his seat.

Another man rose. "I am Kellum from the village of Balsus. My family has a farm that borders sheep land in Lythos. We've feuded for generations with our neighbors, each side accusing the other of thievery, godlessness and worse. We lost nearly all our possessions in last year's terrible storm. If it hadn't been for our neighbors lending us clothes, our new baby might have died."

Before Kellum could sit, a woman stood. "And if it hadn't been for Kellum's family, ours might have starved." Soon others were up on their feet, revealing how they'd been wrong about someone, or someone had been wrong about them. A few walked over to each other and embraced. Those still seated looked on in amazement or exchanged opinions with the person next to them. Melop could only watch with his mouth open.

Gabrielle turned to see those on the platform equally engaged. While she was more than happy to be forgotten in the melee, she was becoming concerned about how to get things on track again. She searched the crowd until she finally saw Marta. Marta smiled and gave her the "okay" sign, then resumed talking with the woman beside her. Gabrielle shouted and waved her hands until she got Marta's attention. Marta gestured for her to calm down and gave her the "okay" sign again. Gabrielle sighed in frustration. Then was nearly blown off her feet by the sudden blaring of trumpets. She noted with satisfaction that she wasn't the only one. "Heh," she chuckled to herself. "Maybe imagination isn't so bad after all."

Gabrielle strode back to the podium. The crowd had recovered from their startlement sufficiently enough to give her their attention. "So," she grinned, "should I take that as a yes?"

"YESSSSSSS!" the onlookers yelled back.

"And you?" she asked the representatives. "Are you prepared to approve the document before you?" In response, each representative walked over and signed.

"Melop? I believe you have your answer. Perhaps those women you admire so much can escort your entourage to safety. We wouldn't want it said we allowed you to be attacked by heathen beliefs." Gabrielle smiled evilly. "Or wasps." She waited until Melop was lead none too gently away, before clasping her hands together and addressing the crowd. "Well, enough for the intermission. Let's get back to the main show, shall we?"

Gabrielle turned to those on the platform. "By agreeing to the principles of the Village of Dreams, you have cleared the way to honor some of its first fruits." She beckoned to the small group of girls with purple sashes who had been standing quietly on the platform throughout the proceedings. They marched with dignity to stand to one side of the podium. Gabrielle turned back the audience.

"Of everything we do today, nothing fills my heart more than recognizing young people dedicated to embodying the honor, perseverance, compassion, and excellence of the Warrior Princess who is my inspiration for the Village of Dreams. A little over a year ago, I came to some of you and explained a plan for developing such girls. I told you that we would instruct them in a variety of disciplines - from philosophy and the arts, to practical skills for nurturing and protecting life. You trusted us with your children. Today, we recognize them for striving to be exactly what we hoped."

She gestured to about 50 girls with purple sashes seated around the platform. They rose. Gabrielle addressed them.

"Each of you has faithfully attended sessions here at least twice a month, often more. You have passed a rigorous test in mental and physical skills. You have pledged to serve yourselves, your families and your communities with respect in whatever capacity you choose."

Gabrielle looked out at the audience. "Brothers and sisters, I now officially present to you the first class of Xena Scouts!"

Everyone grinned and clapped, including the Scouts. Gabrielle addressed the girls again.

"Some of you will continue seeking higher levels of accomplishment. Some may choose to petition for acceptance into the Amazon Nation. All of you will leave knowing that you are more prepared for whatever life presents. Go forth, proudly, in the name of one of the truest, noblest warriors of all time."

Fifty hands went up in salute. "YES, LEADER GABRIELLE," fifty voices shouted. An astonished Gabrielle watched the Scouts strike their fists into their chests, as they chanted, "XENA! XENA! XENA!" They stopped in unison, gazed a long moment at Gabrielle in silent tribute, then resumed their seats.

For what seemed like the umpteenth time that day, Gabrielle found herself struggling to maintain her composure. "Thank you," she said, her eyes glistening. "Now, let's hope I can get through the rest of the program without some of you having to use your skills to save me from drowning in my own tears."

The Scouts and the crowd laughed. "That's okay," someone in the back yelled. "We've got all night."

"Ha! Maybe you do, but I don't," Gabrielle responded, smiling. "Besides, I'm anxious to get to the second part of my favorite activity." She turned to the Scouts on the platform. "I will now award badges of merit to those who have distinguished themselves in a particular area."

She called each girl forward and pinned various symbols on their purple sashes - a quill for scholarship, a staff for martial arts, a bird for nature studies, a hammer for building skills, a dinar for commercial projects, and a bundle of wheat for farming and homemaking. Singling out three in their late teens, she said, "These young women have excelled at leadership. They are prepared to head troops in their hometowns, as well as to journey to other places which have expressed interest in the Scouts." Gabrielle pinned an insignia above the gold "X" on their sashes. "Wear this chakram with pride. We entrust you with nurturing Xenas for the future."

Gabrielle addressed the crowd. "Sisters and brothers, please join me in congratulating all the girls and young women who represent what the Village of Dreams stands for."

The guests rose and gave the Scouts a long, appreciative ovation. When the applause dwindled, Gabrielle announced, "This concludes the formal ceremonies. Please join us for food and celebration in the -" She paused, puzzled, as she noticed Eve making an unscheduled trip to the platform, carrying a long bundle wrapped in brown cloth. "Um, hold on. It seems we're not quite finished yet."

Eve walked to stand beside Gabrielle. "Greetings," she said to the audience. "I am Eve, daughter of Xena by blood and of Gabrielle by adoption. Gabrielle has given so much to us. She's wanted nothing in return except our happiness and prosperity. I would like to present her with a gift in gratitude for this day."

Eve unwrapped the bundle and held up the contents for everyone to see. "This exquisite tapestry is from Japa. It depicts Xena's battle with the evil spirit Yodoshi and how my mothers made the decision to put others above themselves. The people of Higuchi sent this to honor the love that saved the lives and souls of their village."

Gabrielle listened, fingers pressed to her lips. In the silence that followed Eve's words, she reached out and touched the tapestry. She traced some of the figures that represented her and Xena, as though reliving the events portrayed. Finally she took the tapestry and held it to her body, mouth trembling. Eve placed her hands on Gabrielle's shoulders and bent to hear some whispered instructions.

Eve smiled and turned to face their guests. "Gabrielle apologizes for her uncharacteristic loss of words. She thanks all of us for our generosity, especially the people of Higuchi." Eve signaled to some drummers in the back, who began tapping their instruments lightly. "She says we've had enough crying for one day. Please -- eat, drink and be merry!"

As one, the guests brought their hands to their foreheads, then their fists to their chests in the Amazon salute. Like the Scouts, they stood silently a long moment, paying their respect to Gabrielle, before moving to pick their way to the refreshment area.

"Gabrielle? Are you all right? I didn't mean to upset you."

Gabrielle was leaning against the podium, seemingly a million miles away. She focused on Eve. "What? Oh, yes, sorry. I'll be fine." She slowly rolled the tapestry and stood it against the podium. "Come here, you naughty girl," she scolded, holding her arms open to Eve. "Marta hinted you had a secret," she said, hugging Eve tightly. "This makes everything complete. For Xena and for me."

Eve broke apart and smiled through her tears. "I pray so. I'll talk to you about interpreting it on our way to dinner. You'll be '. Oh, look," she whispered.

Gabrielle glanced down to see a golden butterfly perched atop the tapestry. It fluttered over to Eve's shoulder. Both women smiled. Gabrielle reached her hand to the butterfly, and it walked onto her finger. They watched as it seemed to preen, then finally flutter off gracefully to follow the crowd headed to the food and wine.

"My," Gabrielle said. "Wonders never cease. You think maybe it's trying to tell us to shut up and get something to eat?"

*****

The day over at last, Gabrielle sat wearily in her office, soaking up the welcome silence. She'd made sure the guests were safely ensconced in their quarters, that all was prepared as it should be for the next morning's breakfast and closing activities. Marta and Eve had assured her that she could relax now, that they had everything under control. She glanced around, relieved to see her desk cleared and all extraneous paraphernalia removed. Sighing contentedly, she stretched and reached across the desk to retrieve Xena's urn. She caressed it fondly before carefully storing it in a carry bag which she took with her into her sleeping room and placed behind the curtain that covered her clothing closet.

Gabrielle felt exhilarated, despite her tired feet and a slight headache. She did some deep breathing exercises to calm her whirring thoughts. She wanted to see Xena as soon as possible tonight, as they had much to discuss. She lay on her bed with anticipation and closed her eyes, letting herself drift into the one dream she'd never tire of having.

"Xena?"

"I'm here."

"Where? I can't see you."

"I - I don't want to intrude."

"Intrude? Xena, you can't intrude on a conversation you're supposed to be a party to."

"I meant intrude on any conversations you were having with yourself. It's been a long day. An important day. I've gotten a lot more sensitive to your need to be alone with your thoughts at times like this."

"Are you a fly on the wall?"

A chuckle in the darkness. "No."

"A spidah? Gnat, wasp or something equally unsavory?"

"No, I'm considering it, not likely, that depends."

"Well, get over here so I can see for myself."

Xena appeared next to the bed, a smile playing at her lips.

"Hmmm." Gabrielle slowly examined the tall figure from head to toe, then in reverse. "You look savory enough to me." She patted the bed. "Sit."

Xena eased down onto the bed, her hands in her lap, eyes on Gabrielle. Waiting.

Gabrielle rolled to her side and propped her head on her hand, looking up at her very serious friend. "We're awfully formal tonight," she teased.

Xena gave her a little smile. "It was a big day for me too. Awesome, in fact." She looked past Gabrielle thoughtfully. "I used to wonder what you meant when you told me what is was like watching me lead armies or leap across oceans. Hearing people applaud me when I saved their children. I guess I took it for granted, because I didn't see it as that extraordinary, the way you did." Her eyes returned lovingly to her soulmate. "I understand now. I felt it today. It was like watching the woman of my dreams." She slid her hand across the bed. Gabrielle grasped it, too moved to do or say anything else.

"Everything's in place now. Your life is full with work and people who need you."

"Yes," Gabrielle agreed, her eyes brimming with emotion.

"I see you've ' you've packed up my urn."

Gabrielle blinked. "Um ' yes, I did."

"Seems you're ready at last to move on."

"Yes, I believe so."

Xena swallowed, finally moving to Gabrielle and pulling her soulmate into a mighty hug. "I am so honored that you let me share in this. You've given my life more meaning and existence in death than I ever could when I was breathing and kicking." Xena smiled wryly. "I'd tell you I can now die a happy woman, but I'm afraid it'd be a bit redundant."

Gabrielle pulled away to give Xena a long stare. "Is that supposed to be some kind of farewell speech?"

"I'll always be here when you need me. That won't ever change."

"But you're expecting that my thoughts of you will be packed away now, sort of like your ashes."

"Yeah, I guess so. I understand that. Like I said before, it's what I'd dreamed for you."

"Xena?"

"Yeah?"

"You're right. You can be such a ninny sometimes."

Xena's brows shot up. "What?"

"You heard me." Gabrielle rested her head on Xena's shoulder. "Remember back in Japa when I said it wasn't right for you to stay dead?"

"Gabrielle, I thought we were past that. We agreed -"

"Xena?"

"Yeah?"

"You're interrupting me again."

"Oh. Sorry. Once a pest, always a pest."

"Not necessarily. We'll work on that. Now, as I was saying '." Gabrielle readjusted herself to think more comfortably. "I'm not sure I was talking about justice or even the greater good. I've gone over and over that moment for four years. I believe I felt it wasn't right because it wasn't meant for you to stay dead."

Xena frowned. "You mean like fate or destiny? I told you when Caesar tried to change our lives that I believe things happen precisely as they should. As much as I'd love to be here with you in the flesh, I still believe that." She looked down at Gabrielle. "Don't you?"

"Sort of. I can't deny there's been some good to this. You got to respect yourself in a way you might not have otherwise. I got to prove to myself - and you - that I could carry on, even prosper, on my own. Neither of us has to worry so much about your shadow anymore."

Xena gave Gabrielle a squeeze. "True. It was worth it to me if only for that."

"I'll give you that," Gabrielle said, squeezing Xena back. "It's the staying dead part I'm still having problems with."

Xena sighed heavily. "Gabrielle, I know I promised not to fight you on that, but --"

"No, if I remember correctly, you said you'd try to be happy if that made me happy." Gabrielle paused for Xena's exasperated huff. "Hear me out, okay?"

"Fine."

"I wasn't stuck in trying to bring your body back. I was trying to make sense of what happened. I've talked to holy people, shamans, healers - you name it - everywhere I've traveled. When I found Eve in India and told her about it, she was devastated. Nothing in Eli's or anybody else's teachings seemed to explain why those trapped souls needed to be avenged, especially after you risked your life to eliminate Yodoshi's evil spirit and free the souls. Eve sent inquiries to a priest she knows in Japa. She was a little surprised to hear back that the people of Higuchi mourned you as a hero."

"As opposed to rejoicing that a criminal had finally been punished." Xena placed her fingers against Gabrielle's protesting lips. "I'm only saying the coin had two sides; it was a toss-up as to which one they'd see." She smiled gently. "Not everyone flips it so it always lands up, the way you do."

Gabrielle ducked her head. "Um, well, sometimes you can have a hand in something even when you're just going along minding your own business."

"Oh?" Xena asked suspiciously.

"Yeah, see I went to the Ghost Killer's memorial service. I felt a special bond with him, I guess because he'd understand the real sacrifice you'd made." Gabrielle exhaled a deep breath. "The true loss."

"Yes," Xena said quietly, "He trusted the love and courage in your heart that was the key. He understood your sacrifice as well."

Gabrielle nodded her head against Xena's chest. "He'd told his family how you'd agreed to work with him and that he'd given me the secret to bringing you back. They expressed regret that I'd run out of time. I said I hadn't, that you'd chosen to stay dead so the lost souls could have peace. They looked at me strangely, but didn't say anything, just backed away, bowing. They must've told their neighbors."

"I couldn't believe representatives came from Japa. That tapestry they sent was stunning."

Gabrielle smiled against Xena's chest. "More than you know. Eve's friend heard about the tapestry and told the villagers I'd probably like it for the library. She wanted to surprise me with it at the ceremony, so didn't tell me it had arrived yet. A note came with it, explaining that a seer had woven it, that every scene has a certain significance. Apparently Eve's been examining it in minute detail. She saw something puzzling that she wanted to talk to me about after the presentation."

"Yeah?"

"Uh huh. It shows you and me with our hands on your urn, just before you told me not to immerse it in the water that would restore your body. Then it looks like you're somewhere with what must be the freed souls, looking down on me standing alone." Gabrielle paused. "But it doesn't end there."

"It doesn't?" Xena asked, not sure she wanted to know how it did end.

"Uh uh. The souls appear to be pushing you away."

Xena swallowed. "They don't want me?"

Gabrielle chuckled softly. "We're not sure why," she responded diplomatically. "They do seem to be pushing you toward a blond figure with its arms outstretched."

If Xena had had a beating heart, it would've been thumping or skipping. She swallowed again. "Is the blond figure '. Is she '."

"Dead? I certainly hope not." Gabrielle smiled impishly. "At least not while she's still got that deliciously firm body, those defined -"

"Grrrrrr."

"Okay, okay," Gabrielle relented, laughing. "She's looking up. Her arms stretch up. The souls seem to be pushing you down toward her arms, her world. The last scene shows you walking off with her into the sunset."

Xena lay silent, absentmindedly stroking Gabrielle's arm. Finally she asked, "Does it show how to make that ending happen?"

"Eve's friend thinks the seer may know. That's why I packed your urn. We're going back to Japa."

Xena gently disengaged from Gabrielle and scooted up to prop herself against the wall. "Are you sure that's what you want? You said yourself everything is finally the way you wanted. Why leave all this for what may be false hope and more heartache?"

Gabrielle raised herself up to rest against her soulmate. She reached over and turned Xena's face toward her. "Xena, I planned to start that quest even before I knew about the tapestry."

"You did?"

"Yes. It's why I've been working so hard to put things in place, to make sure there are others to carry on this work. It's a base for Eve and Marta, for me. I've received invitations from all over the world to help establish other villages like this. I planned to combine that with searching for insights to bring you back. Maybe do a little barding here, butt-kicking there, along the way. The only thing that might have stopped me was you."

"Me?"

"I didn't realize you could think all this would ever replace you." Gabrielle turned away. "But I can see why. I think maybe that's what I was trying to do at first. I accepted that you did what you felt you had to. But questions kept nagging at me. Why did it still feel wrong? Why couldn't anybody explain the spiritual basis? Was there no forgiveness possible in those freed souls? Was it, in truth, to appease the living? But those were my questions. I didn't want to disturb your sense of peace unless the answers would make you 'whole' in every sense."

Xena pulled her soulmate closer and grinned. "In other words, you missed me."

"Grrrrr." Gabrielle whacked Xena lightly across the midsection. "The issue is that I didn't know how much you missed me, not until you started ' bugging ' me like that. And when you admitted you were bored, I didn't feel so selfish about wanting to bring you back. The tapestry confirmed what I felt all along, except now we've got somewhere to focus."

Xena shook her head. "Amazing."

Gabrielle nodded. "Yep, amazing."

The two sat a few moments, side by side, each contemplating the possibilities that lay ahead.

"So when do we start?"

Gabrielle nearly choked with laughter. She gave her soulmate a long, grateful hug. "Not tonight, that's for sure. Some of us need sleep."

"Will I get to be more active on this quest? More involved in your thoughts and decisions?"

"Yesssss." Gabrielle smirked. "Your advanced wisdom could be useful. After all, I figure I'm still at least a couple of years younger than you."

Xena smirked. "All the more enticing to gnats and bees."

"Speaking of which, that was lovely how you appeared at the ceremony."

Xena grinned malevolently "It'd've been even lovelier if you'd let me sting the bastard. Um, not that I had any doubts you could handle him, of course."

"I meant the butterfly, after Eve gave me the tapestry."

"Oh, yeah, wasn't that something the way it showed up like that? Made me think of Lao Ma."

Gabrielle narrowed her eyes. "Are you saying that wasn't you?"

"Do I get points if I say it was?" Xena noticed she was getting an exasperated glare instead. "Pffff. Not creepy-crawly enough for my tastes. Too flimsy to do dive bombs."

"Xena, I swear I don't know how anybody can be such balm to my soul and still be so -"

"Like a fly in the ointment? Bwahahahahahaha!"

"Xena?"

"Hey, fair is fair. You said yourself you're partly responsible that my otherworldly retirement home wasn't the paradise advertised."

"Xena."

"Yes, my dear, sweet, forgiving, irreplaceable, eternal soulmate?"

"You know how I said you'd been cleansed to the point of invisibility?"

"Vaguely."

"That hasn't quite worked out like I thought either. It may be that you can take the fly out of the darkness, but that you can't take the darkness out of the fly. Which may not bode well if - when - we get your body back."

Xena's brows furrowed. "It's true," she said seriously, "we haven't really talked about what we might be getting if I'm mortal again. Are you ' are you sure it's worth the risk?"

Gabrielle pulled her soulmate's head down and planted a kiss on her forehead. "I'd bet your enchantingly beady little eyes it is. Good enough?"

"For now." Xena wriggled down to a prone position, pulling Gabrielle with her. She smiled to herself. Yep, the butterfly was a nice touch, but even in death she had a certain stoic image to maintain.

Gabrielle yawned and snuggled into her soulmate. She smiled to herself. That butterfly had been the perfect touch. Yes, even in death, Xena couldn't resist doing the right thing.

[faveficarchive]

ILLUMINATIONS OF THE SOUL

by Cousin Liz

1997 Jul 30Disclaimers: The characters of Xena: Warrior Princess are owned by MCA Pictures and used here without permission. No copyright infringement was intended in the writing of this story.

This story shows the loving relationship between two women. You may even consider it explicit at times. If this type of story offends you, or you are not old enough to read it, please stop reading now.

I hope you all enjoy.

FAN FICTION COVER:

The graphic below is a fan fiction cover that I created for this story. To view a larger version of the cover, please click on the graphic.

Chapter 01

The well traveled road wound its way through the countryside. The trees on both sides had begun to change color and the crunch of dried leaves under foot was something that Gabrielle always loved to hear. She appreciated the cooler days for traveling, except for the price paid at night. 'Soon it will be getting downright cold,' she speculated to herself. They were nearing a town and Xena intended to stay only long enough to buy supplies and get a worn buckle on Argo's saddle replaced.

Gabrielle, who had been discussing the recent exploits of their last adventure, fell silent. She could sense the change in Xena. Back ramrod straight; she sat tall in the saddle. Chin up, shoulders squared and her normally blue eyes now icy gray slits. 'And that look.' It still sent shivers down Gabrielle's spine every time she witnessed the transformation. 'This must have been what greeted the unfortunate people of the villages and towns that Xena and her army raided. The Warrior Princess.' Gabrielle closed her eyes, trying to picture the scene.

First impressions meant everything and Xena had this down to a science. She wanted no trouble from anyone in town. Although her warlord days were past her, the look still served it's purpose. "Gabrielle," Xena said suddenly, thrusting a protective arm in front of her friend who had been walking along side Argo. With her other arm, she pulled Argo to an abrupt stop. Xena sat there motionless, listening.

"What is it?" Gabrielle asked in a hushed tone. "Highway robbers? A deadly animal? A hungry cyclops? Joxer?"

"No, no, no and NO," Xena chided her friend for her vivid imagination. Even though the town was not yet in sight, she could just make out the sounds of people. Many people. "Something is going on in the town up ahead. I hear the sounds of too many people to be coming from a place of that size. Keep alert," Xena warned. "There could be trouble." They continued on.

Gabrielle gripped her staff tighter and gave a few warm-up swings, loosening her muscles. A small smile worked its way across her face. 'Yes! She didn't even try to make me stay behind this time while she went on ahead. Nor did she make me climb onto that beast of a war horse of hers, and hide behind her.' It had taken nearly two years, but Gabrielle felt that Xena was finally trusting her to hold her own in a battle.

They rounded a bend in the road and the countryside opened up onto recently harvested fields. In the distance stood the town. "Wow. It looks like the entire population of the town is out. Xena, they're having some kind of a celebration!" The young woman's eyes danced with excitement.

"From the size of the crowd, I'd say the people from the surrounding villages are there also. Must be their harvest festival." Xena caught the look in her young friend's eyes. "Maybe we could have a look around... if you'd like?"

"Oh Xena, could we?"

"Sure, Gabrielle. C'mon." Xena reverted back to her warrior princess persona.

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Even with all of the distractions the festival had to offer, Xena and Gabrielle's entrance into the town did not go unnoticed. It never did. Xena was not one to blend in easily. Clad in black leather and armor, with a flowing mane of long black hair, the six-foot frame atop the behemoth golden mare stood in stark contrast to the smaller green-eyed strawberry blonde walking along side.

They continued through the village, heading for the inn. "I'm going to stable Argo and give her a good brush down. Why don't you see about getting us a room for the night," Xena said as she dismounted her horse.

"I thought you wanted to pick up supplies and be on your way?"

"I know that's what I said, but I think a short rest will do us all a world of good. Even Argo." At the mention of her name, Argo turned her head and let out an appreciable snort.

"OK, OK," Gabrielle laughed as she stroked the flank of the mare. "I'll see to the room. Then I think I'll check out the marketplace."

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With a room for the night rented, Gabrielle enveloped herself in the crowd. She really enjoyed the hustle and bustle of the marketplace. She had just spent the last five days traveling the road, with Xena and Argo as her only source of companionship. Mind you, she wasn't complaining, but sometimes Argo was a better conversationalist than Xena. Everywhere she looked, children were laughing and running, many with brightly colored painted faces.

Husbands and wives strolled hand in hand, while young couples were seen in the embrace of each other. The merchants hawked their wares, while jugglers walked the street, tossing brightly colored balls in the air, sometimes between themselves. Off to the left, Gabrielle saw a crowd gathering around a small, raised platform where a man was swallowing swords. Minstrels roamed the street, their lively music sometimes cutting through the din of the festival crowd.

Gabrielle was excited at the prospect of doing a little shopping. 'Nothing like a little bartering to get the blood flowing,' she thought to herself. There was everything imaginable for sale here. Food stalls abounded. From the necessities of meat, cheese and breads, to sweets and pastries. 'I'm definitely going to have to check that stall out later,' she reminded herself.

Bolts of fancy woven cloth decorated a stall, while further on, an old white-haired man displayed fine leather work. Gabrielle stopped to delicately finger a beautiful hair barrette. Intricately woven, threads of white and silver silk were braided around individual strips of leather, forming a beautiful white flower which glistened in the sunlight. Gabrielle knew not to even bother to ask the price. 'No amount of bartering will ever get that piece to an affordable price.' It wasn't that they were hurting for money. It was just that the cost of living on the road could sometimes be unpredictable. 'And even with all of my best bartering skills, the price of that barrette would still be equivalent to the cost of a week's worth of supplies, including Argo's.' She moved on before the merchant had a chance to strike up a conversation.

Gabrielle headed off to buy the supplies they needed and find the dessert stall she spied earlier. She would pick up a few treats to surprise Xena. She knew that as much as Xena hated to admit it, she had a sweet tooth almost as big as her young friend's. With her shopping done and the treats tucked safely away in the bottom of her satchel, Gabrielle headed to where she would most likely find Xena.

Xena was just leaving the Blacksmith's; Argo's saddle resting comfortably on her left shoulder. "So?" inquired Gabrielle, as she approached.

"The buckle's been replaced. Good as new. How'd your shopping go?"

"Great! I got everything we need and I had a wonderful time looking around."

"Good. Let's get this stuff put away." Knowing how her young friend thrived on crowds, Xena continued, "there's still some time until dinner. Maybe we can have a look around."

Gabrielle's eyes lit up at the prospect. She knew how much Xena disliked crowds. "Really? If you'd like... I saw this guy swallowing swords earlier. Over there." She pointed in the general direction of the platform.

"Swallowing swords, heh? We'll have to check into that. Never know when it might come in handy," Xena replied in her best serious voice. She turned and started to head to the stables with Argo's saddle before Gabrielle could see the grin working its way onto her face.

Gabrielle stood there looking after her friend incredulously. 'Never know when it might come in handy?' she repeated to herself. 'Heh. I sure hope she's joking. Then again... Xena rarely jokes about anything.' Gabrielle shook her head trying to disengage the image that was forming of Xena and her sword, and took off after her.

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Chapter 02

The sun had begun to set by the time Xena and Gabrielle returned to the inn. They had spent a rather uneventful afternoon taking in the sights, although sometimes Gabrielle felt like they were one of the attractions. 'I guess we do make for a rather odd couple,' she mused. She didn't even want to begin to guess what people thought she was doing traveling with the likes of the warrior princess. 'Best to not even go there,' she reminded herself. Nobody ever came right out and said anything, but she could feel herself being watched. She knew Xena could feel it too, but she never let on. 'I guess she's used to it,' but for Gabrielle, it still made her feel a little queasy whenever it happened.

They sat in their usual spot at the back of the tavern. Xena leaned against the back wall, surveying the room before her. Her friend sat across from her.

Gabrielle enthusiastically sliced another large chunk of meat from the steak before her. Her eyes sparkled with glee as she held it up for a moment's examination before devouring it. She was in the Elyssian Fields and loving every minute of it.

"I guess you're going to want me to add cow to my list of dinner quarries now," Xena said with a bemused smile on her face.

"Oh Xena -" Gabrielle almost choked as she attempted to swallow her latest mouthful. "You know I love what you catch for our dinner. I can just picture the warrior princess stealthily tracking some poor farmer's milk cow out in his pasture. And what would you tell him Xena? 'Well, you see... my friend was just hankering for a big juicy steak.' I don't think he'd go for that."

"Well, I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. It's not often we get to eat this well." It didn't happen often, but there were days when try as she might, no animal would snare itself in one of the traps she had set. And there wasn't always a river nearby with a ready source of fish. Meals those nights consisted of bread and what little dried fruits, smoked meat or cheese they had left from their last stop at a village. Gabrielle never complained, although her stomach usually gave her away. Xena's face clouded over at these thoughts.

Gabrielle had been busily slicing off another large chunk from her steak when she glanced up and noticed that Xena had gone away. "Xena," she called softly. Xena was staring down at her plate of food, her arms resting on either side of her plate. She looked up. Gabrielle's heart sank as she looked into her eyes. 'What could she have been thinking about to cause such sadness to mar the beauty of those blue eyes?' Gabrielle thought. She instinctively began to reach across the table to cover Xena's hand with hers, but pulled up short at the last moment and wrapped her fingers around her mug instead. They were in public, she reminded herself. She just had a hard time restraining herself sometimes. She always tended to talk with her hands. They seemed to have a life of their own, and went where they wanted.

"Hmm," Xena said as she came back to the present.

"What were you thinking about?" Gabrielle tried to ask nonchalantly.

"Oh, nothing in particular. Just trying to give my stomach a chance to catch up," Xena replied as she went back to her meal.

Gabrielle knew it was pointless to try to gain access to the warrior's thoughts. If they had been alone, she would not have let the subject drop so easily. She would have prodded Xena a little and maybe gotten somewhere. However, in public, Xena wore her warrior princess armor inside and out. Gabrielle understood, though. It had kept them from being bothered or harassed on more than one occasion.

As they continued their meal, Gabrielle tried to fill the air with light talk, attempting and finally succeeding in bringing Xena out of her funk. "Wow! I don't think I could eat another bite," the bard exclaimed as she pushed her empty plate away and leaned back on her chair, patting her bare midriff.

Xena rolled her eyes. "Considering you polished off everything on your plate and then went back for seconds..." A smile formed on Xena's face. "I guess that means you don't have room for dessert?" she asked, first smelling and then seeing the trays of nutbread that were being brought out of the kitchen and placed on the bar.

Gabrielle turned and followed Xena's eyes as she focused on the dessert. "Nutbread! Well... I guess I *could* find room for a small piece." Gabrielle's eyes danced at the prospect. She watched as the innkeeper began to slice the loaves.

"I'll go and make sure she cuts you a generous piece," Xena said as she rose and made her way to the bar. Gabrielle watched her go. She noticed that as Xena passed people at other tables, they almost recoiled from her, fearful of her touch. Gabrielle knew Xena could feel this -- this cold vacuum effect that hung in the air around her. To be around so many people and still be alone. Gabrielle wondered how Xena could live with it.

The warrior arrived a few minutes later balancing two plates of nutbread and a large port for herself and a cider for Gabrielle. "Here you go," she said, as she sat back down and sipped her drink. She watched as Gabrielle descended on her dessert. 'Where does she put it?' she contemplated.

Gabrielle was soon licking her fingers and pinching up the last of the crumbs from her plate. "Oh Xena, that was the best nutbread I ever had." Looking down a little embarrassed she continued, "I even think it was better than my mother's." Xena silently pushed her untouched dessert over to Gabrielle. "No Xena, No! I won't. I know you like nutbread too." Gabrielle pushed the plate back to her friend.

"Gabrielle, I got it for you." Xena began to push the plate back across the table. Gabrielle put her hand out and stopped it midway. Both women continued to stubbornly push the plate in opposite directions. "This is getting us nowhere."

"Truce," Gabrielle said softly, not wanting anybody seated at the table next to them to overhear the warrior princess losing a battle. "We'll share." Both women slowly released their grip on the plate, but kept their arms extended in case the other changed their mind.

Gabrielle broke off a piece and held it out for Xena. She knew it was the only way she would get her to eat any. Reluctantly Xena accepted it and sat back. "Hmm... This really is good." She looked up to see Gabrielle watching her.

"I told you so."

"That's why I wanted you to have it."

"Xena." Gabrielle said with slight exasperated. "You have got to learn to indulge yourself. You're always doing good things for other people. You've got to stop and do them for yourself once in a while." She broke off a small piece of nutbread and popped it into her mouth. "See, it's not that hard." Gabrielle broke off a larger piece and handed it to her friend. She continued in this manner until she had successfully fed the rest of it to Xena.

Xena quietly resigned herself to the force feeding. She knew when it was useless to argue with her bard. 'And maybe she's right. When was the last time I did something for no other reason than to please myself?'

"Xena? Do you hear that?" Gabrielle asked as she turned to look for the source.

"Uh huh," Xena murmured. She was leaning back against the wall, eyes closed, arms crossed, her legs stretched out and extended under Gabrielle's chair. The soft strains of instruments being tuned floated in on the night air. Many of the couples who had finished eating were already starting to disappear outside.

Gabrielle got up and approached the innkeeper. "Excuse me, Androniki. I was wondering. What's going on outside?"

"The town is holding an evening dance," she replied. "There's no building large enough to have it in, so we simply have it outside, under the stars. It's a bit brisk tonight, but everybody will warm up fast enough when the dancing starts." She motioned Gabrielle towards the window. Gone were the stalls the merchants used earlier, and lanterns had been hung throughout the center of town. A small group of people could be seen in front of the Blacksmith's shop, readying their instruments. Families and couples were beginning to gather, coming from all directions. "You should come join us. The dance is always quite fun."

"Thank you," Gabrielle replied. She turned to look at Xena, who hadn't moved from her spot. This was not an easy task that lay ahead of her. Gabrielle knew Xena was not the least bit interested in some silly dance. Come to think of it, in the last two years they had been together, she had never seen Xena dance. 'Well, there was that time when she went undercover at the Miss Known World Pageant, but that doesn't count. That was business.' They did attend the reception held in their honor by King Gregor and Pandora, after Xena successfully rescued the baby. And there was dancing after the dinner. Xena simply sat there wearing her patented look-at- me-the-wrong-way-and-die warrior princess look. No man dared get close enough to ask her to dance. She stayed for a little while, before disappearing with her excuse of needing to check up on Argo. The bard wondered what Xena would ever do if she didn't have that horse to fall back on as an excuse.

Gabrielle walked back over to their table. By now the place was practically empty. "Xena. Xena?" At first, Gabrielle thought that Xena had nodded off, then thought better. 'Xena never nods off.' Xena's eyes opened and met the bard's. "I was wondering... that maybe... that is if you're not too tired..."

"Sure."

"... we could go outside and watch the dancing... for a little while that is..." Gabrielle blinked and gave her head a small jerk and shake as she realized that Xena had spoken.

Xena stretched the muscles in her arms as she held them out straight and stood with a fluid grace to her full six feet. She motioned to the speechless bard to proceed with her to the door. 'Gabrielle seldom asks for anything, and damn if I'm going to deny her some simple pleasures in her life. And the look on her face when it dawned on her that her request had been answered was priceless,' Xena chuckled to herself. 'Worth the last dinar I have to see that.'

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Chapter 03

The grounds outside were now teeming with life. The music had begun, and couples were whirling to a lively tune. Even the young children were off to the side attempting to mimic their elders. Most of the oldest folk were seated on benches and chairs that were drug from neighboring stores and homes.

Xena stood on the porch at the corner of the inn. She had found a patch of shadow that the nearest lantern could not breech. She leaned against the building sipping the port she brought outside, her left foot resting comfortably on the lower railing at the side of the porch.

Gabrielle leaned over the front railing, craning her neck to the left and then to the right. "Xena. It looks like the whole town has showed up tonight! I'll bet not a single person is left at home. Everybody is having such a good time. It's nice to be in a town where everyone is not in fear of an advancing warlord. We've seen plenty of that already."

Xena wondered how many town's festivities had been ruined by her and her army during her warlord years. She downed the rest of her port, struggling to push those memories back from where they had escaped. Gabrielle walked over and stood next to her, trying to steal some of her body heat. She rested her head on the warrior's shoulder, wistfully watching the couples, now dancing in each other's arms to a slow song. Xena watched Gabrielle out of the corner of her eye. There was such depth of emotion to her young eyes, but Xena could not be sure what Gabrielle was thinking. She just wished that Gabrielle could have her heart's desire, and Xena would do anything to make her young friend happy. 'She must see herself in the arms of a charming young man, being held and loved as they move with the music.' The mental image of this shook Xena back to the present. 'And this will never happen -- not with me hovering over her. No man will dare get close enough to even speak with her.' "Gabrielle, I need to go check on Argo."

Gabrielle knew what this line really meant. Xena was tiring of the dance and wanted an excuse to disappear for the rest of the night. "Xeeena." Gabrielle drawled, letting her friend know that she knew what she was up to.

"No Gab. I promise. I'll be back in a little while."

"You promise?"

"Yes, I promise." With that, Xena left.

Now Gabrielle was perplexed. She was sure Xena was looking to get away for the rest of the evening. 'But if Xena makes a promise, she keeps it. I wonder if this time she really simply wanted to check on Argo? I guess I'll never figure her out.' Gabrielle moved back over to the center of the porch. The lantern on a nearby post lit up her red-blonde hair, and the dance of the flame sent fiery streaks pulsating down the strands of her hair.

Xena stood off in the shadows of a nearby building, keeping an eye on her friend. 'Just in case anybody tries to do her harm,' she told herself. After only a couple of minutes, Xena got her wish. A handsome young man approached Gabrielle. Xena suppressed her desire to wrest the young man's gaze from her friend and send him packing. 'Get a grip on yourself, Xena. This is obviously what Gabrielle wants and needs.'

"Hi, my name is Andreas," the young man said, looking up at Gabrielle.

"Uh... hi," Gabrielle replied, looking down at her hands. She knew this would happen as soon as Xena left her alone. 'Now where is that warrior princess when I need her.'

"I was wondering if you'd join me for the next dance?" The young man asked, gesturing toward the couples.

"Oh uh -- heh... I'd really love to you know, but... ah... you see... just the other day I took a tumble off a horse and my leg is still giving me some problems." She began to massage her upper right thigh for effect. "Otherwise, I would have loved to dance the next dance with you." Gabrielle tried to let him down as nicely as possible. He bowed, turned and left. 'Quick thinking, girl. He almost had you.'

Xena watched the entire too brief exchange. She was too far away and there was too much noise to pick up any of the conversation, but she was sure that he had asked Gabrielle to dance. 'The young man seemed pleasant enough,' she pondered. 'I wonder what he said to make Gabrielle decline? If he said anything to upset her, I'll... I'll...' Xena did her best to get back under control as she returned to the porch.

"I'm back, just like I promised." She wanted to ask Gabrielle what happened with the young man, but knew her friend would get upset if she found out Xena was spying on her.

"Oh... hi Xena," Gabrielle said, suppressing a yawn that was a little too over theatrical. "You know, I'm really getting tired. I think I'll turn in now," she said sleepily, absentmindedly massaging her upper right thigh.

Xena didn't believe Gabrielle was tired for a minute. She looked the bard over carefully, trying to see if she could ascertain her true motivation. Concerned, Xena asked, "What's wrong with your leg?"

"Oh this... nothing. Old war wound."

"If it's bothering you, let me take a look at it," Xena said, concern for her friend growing.

"No, no, that's alright. Heh -- I was just kidding!"

"Ga-bri-elle."

"Really Xena, it's nothing."

"O.K. If you insist. I'm a bit tired too," she said, trying to change the subject. "I think I'll turn in also." Xena was still concerned as she noticed Gabrielle favoring her one leg over the other as they entered the inn. She first noticed Gabrielle rubbing her leg as she talked to the young man. 'It has something to do with him. I'll get to the bottom of this...'

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Chapter 04

The music from out front wafted up to the room, entering through their window at the back of the inn. Gabrielle stood at the open window, gazing out upon the night sky. Xena busied herself, getting a fire going in the large fireplace, which took up most of the wall to the left. For such a small town, the inn provided spacious and clean rooms. To the right of the window stood a large bed in the corner. To the right of the door was a chest with wash basin on top. Another chest stood just to the left of the door. When Xena had a warming blaze lit, she walked over to the near chest and began to methodically remove her weapons and armor. She knew she hadn't really needed them on earlier; it was just that she felt almost naked in public without them. 'And one should always be prepared,' she reminded herself.

"A dinar for your thoughts," Xena said, as she turned to find Gabrielle still staring out the window.

"Oh, nothing. I was just listening to the music," Gabrielle said softly, as she turned to face Xena.

"Why didn't you take that young man up on his offer for a dance earlier?" Xena blurted.

"Xena! You were watching!?!"

"I was just rounding the corner when I saw him turn and walk away. I didn't think he was there to ask you the time of day!"

"Oh."

Xena felt guilty for the deception, but continued her gentle prodding. "You seemed so happy at the dance. I thought you would've wanted to participate."

"Well, yeah. It's just that... well... " Gabrielle looked down, fidgeting with the top of her skirt. She would not finish.

Xena covered the distance between them in a few long strides. She took Gabrielle's chin in her hand and coaxed her to meet her eyes. "What's wrong," Xena demanded. "Did he say something to upset you. I'll find him and teach him how to treat a young lady." Xena hissed the last part out through clenched teeth.

"NO, NO Xena!" Gabrielle suddenly became very scared for the poor man's life. She knew what Xena was capable of doing. "He was a perfect gentleman."

"Then why didn't you accept his offer?" she asked, becoming even more confused by this new fact.

"I... can't dance." Gabrielle said it so softly, that Xena almost didn't hear her.

"Is that all?" Xena mused. "I was ready to go and take his head off."

"Is that all? Is that all!" Gabrielle was becoming indignant. "I've tried and tried. I just get so confused with my feet that I end up making a fool of myself. At the barn dances we had back home in Poteidaia, my family practically disowned me, my dancing was so bad. Poor Lila tried to teach me, but eventually gave up. It was useless."

Xena could see the look of utter futility in her eyes. "Ga-bri-elle." She reached down and softly clasped one of her friend's hands. Xena rested her other hand on Gabrielle's waist, and took a step back so she was at arms length from her.

Xena told herself that what she was about to do was strictly for Gabrielle's benefit, and that it had nothing to do with the fact that it would be a perfect excuse to touch her young friend. And she seemed to be finding excuses more and more often to do just that.

A friendly pat on the back, or a touch of her forearm. The times she cherished the most were at night. Xena wasn't sure exactly when it started, but some time ago, by some mutually unspoken consent, their bedrolls began to be laid out next to each other. Everything stayed strictly platonic, but sometimes Gabrielle had a tendency to end up with some part of her body draped over the warrior. And Xena never complained. She simply lay there motionless, reveling in the warm touch of the bard and wishing it would never end.

Gabrielle froze in her place, uncertain what Xena's next move would be. She trusted her friend with her life, although more times than she cared to admit. Xena locked eyes with Gabrielle and simply said, "Let me show you how." She lifted the small hand clasped in hers and held it out to the side. "Just listen to the music and follow my lead," Xena said, a smile spreading across her face.

"XENA!" exclaimed Gabrielle, as she quickly began to try to keep pace with her new dance partner. A smile reached Gabrielle's face, quickly replaced with a look of grim determination as she concentrated on watching Xena's feet, trying to mimic her steps while not smashing one of the warrior's toes. It was useless. After only a few moments, Gabrielle became so worried that she did just that. "Oh Xena, I'm so sorry," she exclaimed, pulling to a stop. A tear began to roll down her cheek.

"Gabrielle, I'm fine." Xena tried to console her best friend, while wiping away the tear. "Look. I've still got my boots on. I go into battle wearing these. I didn't feel a thing. Honest."

"It's hopeless, Xena. I told you I couldn't dance."

"Gabrielle, we've only just started. You're good with your staff, very coordinated. And you pick up the different moves I teach you quickly and efficiently. What was one of the first things I taught you when facing an opponent in battle?"

Gabrielle thought for a moment and replied, "Look 'em in the eyes. Always maintain eye contact. You can tell what your opponent's next move will be from their eyes." Dawn broke over Gabrielle's face as she realized what she was saying. "That's just -"

"- like dancing," Xena finished the sentence. She held her young friend's chin in her hand and locked eyes with the most beautiful hazel green she had ever seen. Without taking her eyes from the bard's gaze, Xena released her chin and lightly trailed her hand down Gabrielle's arm, once again finding and clasping her small hand. She placed her other hand back on Gabrielle's waist and began to move with the music.

Gabrielle felt captured by the powerful blue pools of Xena's eyes. She couldn't break contact if she tried. They moved about the room, keeping up with the moderately paced song that was playing outside. A smile formed on Xena's lips, and Gabrielle infectiously caught it from her. As far as Gabrielle was concerned, she no longer had feet. She felt as if she was gliding over the floor, following those blue eyes wherever they lead. As the song came to the end, Xena spun Gabrielle out and then back towards her, catching her in her powerful hands before she had a chance to make contact.

"XENA! I did it! I really did it! I danced!!" She caught Xena off guard as she threw her arms around her waist and gave her friend a big hug, burying her face in Xena's chest. The bard was in shock. She didn't believe she had just danced -- and with Xena! She tried hard to burn into her memory what it felt like to be swept around the room by the woman of her dreams, certain she would never get another chance to feel this close to her.

Xena froze. She was not sure what to do. When she heard Gabrielle start to softly cry, she wrapped her arms around the young woman, wondering what was wrong. They stayed like that for a long minute. When Xena felt her friend's tears had stopped, she gently peeled her away from her chest and looked down at her.

"Oh Xena, I'm sorry." Gabrielle saw where her tears had left the front of Xena wet. She absentmindedly began to wipe them away with her hand, oblivious to the effect it had on the warrior.

"Gabrielle, it's fine. Never mind," Xena got out, as she took the young woman's hand from her chest. She tilted the bard's head upwards and wiped the few remaining tears from her face. "What's the matter?"

"I'm just so happy. I... I know it sounds silly, but I was always so ashamed and embarrassed that I couldn't dance. People would make fun of me when I tried, so I stopped trying. I just can't believe how easy it is. How easy *you* made it. Thank you."

Xena couldn't help herself. A wry smile caught the corner of her mouth as she stated, "I have many skills." They both broke out in a fit of laughter.

A lively piece had just begun, and Gabrielle was surprised when once again she was swept off her feet as Xena's eyes carried her aloft. They continued in much that same fashion for the next dozen songs. At one point, Xena showed Gabrielle the steps to a traditional Greek folk dance that was being played, and was delighted to find that Gabrielle picked it up as easily as she had any staff maneuver.

"Oh Xena, I don't know when I last had so much fun," Gabrielle exclaimed as the song came to an end. The last two songs had been particularly fast-paced, and Gabrielle was pleasantly exhausted. As no song immediately began, she figured that either the musicians were also in need of a break, or were done for the night.

Xena could see a slight flush on Gabrielle's face, and wondered if there was one on hers too. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. I just wish you'd told me sooner that you couldn't dance. I would have been able to show you in time for the dance. Then you wouldn't have had to turn that young man away."

"True. Um... Xena? If we had stayed, would you have asked me to dance?" Gabrielle looked into Xena's eyes and saw the pain of her soul.

Xena, surprised by her directness, took a couple of steps back and sat on the edge of the bed. She knew Gabrielle deserved an honest answer, but didn't want to hurt her feelings. Gabrielle walked over and quietly sat next to her, allowing her friend time to gather her thoughts. "No," Xena said softly. "Not that I wouldn't have wanted to, but..."

"Yeah, I can just see it now. Parents grabbing their children and running for the hills. Wouldn't want their little ones exposed to two people dancing, now would we?" Gabrielle said sarcastically, the firelight catching a single tear as it ran down her face. "Xena, why are people so cruel?"

"I don't know Gab, I just don't know."

The strains of a slow, melodious tune broke the silence. Xena stood, bowed deeply and offered her hand to Gabrielle. "Would you honor me with this next dance?" Gabrielle beamed as she accepted. Just before they began the bard's body betrayed her. Before she realized what she was doing she had closed the arms length distance Xena had maintained throughout the evening. She rested the side of her head against the warrior's chest and waited.

Xena's first impulse was to run. Yet every fiber of her being wanted this. Needed this contact. She just wasn't sure if Gabrielle knew what she was getting herself into. Slowly, hesitantly, she allowed her arm to wrap around her friend's back. She rested her cheek on Gabrielle's head and they danced. The bard no longer maintained eye contact, but felt confident she could follow the beat of Xena's heart. For Xena, the contact was magnetic. So conscious was she of the bard's body pressed up against hers, that Xena was sure she would falter and crush one of Gabrielle's feet. She pushed everything but the music from her thoughts, and they danced as one in the warm glow of the fireplace.

'There is no place on this earth I'd rather be right now,' thought Gabrielle, as she buried the side of her face deeper into her friend's chest. She had known for some time that her feelings for Xena had changed; grown. And she suspected Xena might have been feeling the same way towards her. Now she thought she had her answer. The wall Xena erected to keep the outside world from knowing her true feelings was useless at such close proximity. 'Ah Xena,' Gabrielle thought, as a small smile played on her lips. She could feel the warrior's heart flutter and quicken as she held her close.

The song came to an end and the people outside clapped and voiced their praises to the musicians for a wonderful evening of music. Xena and Gabrielle continued to stand in each other's arms, neither one wanting to break contact. Gabrielle knew she had to proceed slowly. Xena could be a bit skittish at times. She had felt her freeze and almost bolt just before, but she also knew that Xena would not make the next move. It was up to her. Gabrielle raised her head and brushed her lips against Xena's. She quickly returned to those lips for another small kiss before returning to the comfort of her friend's chest, hugging her tight. After a moment, she released her and stood back, giving her friend the space she knew she required.

Xena just stood there, the tingling sensation of Gabrielle's lips still pulsing on hers. "Gabrielle?" The bard could hear all of Xena's questions and fears in that one word. In response, she ran her finger slowly down the warrior's arm, feeling muscles jump and twitch under her touch. "Are you sure you're not just reacting to the music, to the dancing?"

Gabrielle brought her eyes up to meet Xena's. She had never felt such intensity for another person, not even Perdicus. "I'm not sure," she honestly admitted. "But I know how I feel about you, how I've felt for some time now."

Xena held her emotions in check as her mind raced over this new bit of information. 'Can this actually be happening? Could she be feeling the same way I do? Does she even know that two women can-- What if this is just some form of hero worship... I couldn't...' "Gabrielle." Xena took the young woman's hands in hers and gave them a squeeze. "It's late. I think it would be best if we tried to get some sleep." Smiling, she bent down and gave the bard a soft kiss on the cheek.

Gabrielle took a tentative step forward, stopping only inches from making contact with Xena. She could feel the electricity in the air surrounding them. She saw the love Xena had for her for the first time, and suddenly realized that she had seen this look numerous times before, always when the warrior thought she wasn't looking. A quick glance down from her horse, a lingering gaze across the campfire, in the first few seconds when Xena finally woke her in the morning. She had just never allowed herself to hope that what she saw was love. Now, she had no doubt.

She carefully placed the palm of her right hand on Xena's stomach and felt the warrior instantly tense. Looking up into her eyes she saw the last of Xena's emotional walls crumble at their feet. What remained was a woman. Not a warrior, or some bigger than life hero. Just a woman. Someone with needs and wants. Someone vulnerable. Gabrielle slid her left hand over Xena's shoulder and around her neck. She buried her fingers in her hair as she reached up on tip toe to lightly reclaim her mouth. Sliding her right hand around her companion's waist she pulled her in, deepening the kiss at the same time.

All of Xena's senses converged on those lips. The lips that she had longed to taste were now eagerly seeking hers. "I uh... think I'll go tend to the fire," Xena said as they finally broke away from each other. She realized that what she saw in Gabrielle's eyes was definitely NOT hero worship. It took all the willpower she could muster to turn her back on her and walk away, but she knew she had to give Gabrielle time. Time to be sure that this was what she really wanted. Because Xena knew that there would be no going back to simply being friends if either one of them faltered in the next step to this budding relationship.

Gabrielle stood in place for a moment -- transfixed. She couldn't believe what she just did. What Xena allowed her to do. 'Now what? Do I wait for her to make the next move?'

Both women fell into their established routine. Xena built up the fire as Gabrielle washed at the basin. She donned a clean shift and got into bed as Xena took her turn at the basin. Gabrielle moved to the far side of the bed, against the wall. She and Xena had slept together plenty of times in the past, but tonight would be different. Gabrielle could feel her own tension grow as Xena slipped into a clean shift and got under the covers. She felt herself holding her breath, not sure which way to turn.

Xena lay on her back, praying to the God Morpheus to take her. She could feel the tension emanating from Gabrielle, but was not sure what she could do. After a couple of long, agonizing minutes, Xena extended her left hand to Gabrielle and said softly, "C'mere." Gabrielle slowly inched her way towards Xena, allowing her friend to wrap a strong arm around her. She buried her face in Xena's shoulder, and both women eventually fell asleep.

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Chapter 05

Xena awoke as the first rays of light filtered through the trees and splashed across the room. 'I must be coming down with something,' she thought groggily to herself. She felt both extremely warm and chilled at the same time. It wasn't until she focused on her surroundings that she realized her dilemma. Sometime during the night, most of the covers had been tugged away from the right side of her body, leaving her exposed to the chill night air. Goose bumps played up her arm and leg.

Her left side, though, was radiating heat. All of the covers were bunched up there, obscuring the weight that had ensconced itself. Xena slowly and carefully peeled back the top edge of the covers and had a peek underneath. She found the heat source. 'Gabrielle.' Sometime during the night Gabrielle had, shall we say, mounted and buried herself into Xena's left side. Her right arm had dug itself under the warrior and her hand had a firm grasp of shift. Her left hand was cupping the bottom of Xena's left breast, while her head rested comfortably on top of it. Gabrielle was straddling her friend's left thigh, and to make matters worse, her left knee was planted firmly between Xena's legs. Xena found her second heat source.

It took only a moment's thought for Xena to realize that *this* would not be a good position for Gabrielle to be in when she woke up and found Xena lying awake. 'What am I gonna do?' Xena tried to come up with a plan of action. 'Or better yet, maybe a plan of inaction. If I just lie here and pretend to be sleeping, it will give Gabrielle a chance to wake up and extricate herself from me. And she will be none the wiser.' But Xena knew that if Gabrielle found herself in this predicament, she would be so embarrassed and guilty that it might seriously jeopardize their relationship before it even got started.

'Nope. Plan A is out. Hmm... Plan B. I could possibly wiggle myself out from under the bard. She *is* a heavy sleeper and I've gotten out of tighter spots than this before.' Xena pondered this plan for a few moments. 'Let's see. Should I remove her hand from my breast first, or her knee from -'

At this precise moment Gabrielle stirred a little, grinding her knee into the warrior.

'Oh Gods!' Xena screamed to herself, as she bit into her lower lip. 'Her knee -- definitely her knee.' Xena fought every muscle in her body, trying to stay in control. 'But what if she wakes up? Gods, what would she think I was doing?' Xena tried to play the scenario out in her mind. She tried to see it through Gabrielle's innocent eyes. 'She could think I was... well... trying to have my way with her.' Xena cringed at the thought. 'Especially if she knew I'd been with other women. And not all of them by their own choosing. I would lose her for sure.'

Xena focused all of her energy on the problem at hand, trying hard to ignore the other hand that was still cupped under her breast. 'Ah, Plan C. This will require precise timing and placement.' Ever so carefully Xena peeled back the covers, exposing all of Gabrielle. She slowly reached over to the bard with her right hand, two fingers extended in the same position she used to apply pressure points. Xena knew it was now or never. With a slight arch of her back to uncover the arm that Gabrielle had buried under the warrior, she reached over and found the bard's most ticklish spot.

Gabrielle was airborne. Xena dove for the floor and executed a perfect tuck and roll and came up in a crouch in front of the fireplace. With lightening speed, she retrieved the poker from against the wall and was tending the fire when Gabrielle's eyes flew open, her scream still emanating from her lungs.

"XEEENA!?!" Gabrielle was crouched on top of the bed in a defensive posture. "What the -- where -- my Gods!!!" Her eyes were wide with fear. She was sure she was being attacked.

"Gabrielle. Are you OK?" Xena was over to the bed immediately, trying to comfort her friend. "You must have been having a nightmare. Everything's OK now." She cradled her trembling love in her arms, feeling guilty for what she had just done. Then she thought again of the alternatives, and knew this was for the best.

After a few minutes Gabrielle calmed down, but still held onto Xena. "I guess it was a nightmare," she mumbled, her face still buried in the protective warmth of her warrior. "I don't even remember it."

"That's for the best then," Xena replied. Then the woman of few words spent time talking in calming and hushed tones, stroking Gabrielle's hair and assuring her everything was alright.

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The rest of the morning proved to be much less eventful. They spent a quiet breakfast in the tavern and had their bags packed and settled on Argo. There was a cool crispness to the morning air, and the dew was still settled when they quietly left the town. Gabrielle, as usual, preferred to walk. Even though this slowed them down somewhat, Xena didn't mind. She had calculated that at this pace, they would still reach their destination on time.

Gabrielle spent the morning regaling Xena with story after story. Xena was certain that this was the best part of the trip. The stories Gabrielle told during these times they spent alone together were not the same stories she told when she had an audience. Audiences always seemed to want to hear of the exploits of Xena, Warrior Princess. And Gabrielle usually obliged them. Xena, on the other hand, always felt awkward hearing about herself. She preferred to hear about the exploits of others.

After a stop along the side of the road to rest Argo and enjoy a leisurely lunch, the two continued on their way. "Where is it that we're heading?" Gabrielle asked again.

"Torone," replied Xena. "I got word that a week ago a terrible storm blew through the village. I promised Yannis that if he ever needed help, I'd be there."

"And Yannis -- he was in your army?"

"He was a lieutenant," Xena responded. 'And one of the few people from that time I still consider a friend.' "He gave up that life and is now a farmer."

"Did the storm do much damage?"

"It destroyed some of his crops and leveled his silo. They've already salvaged what crops they could, but I want to help him in the rebuilding." The genuine compassion Gabrielle had for somebody she did not even know touched Xena, and made her feel even more guilty for the story she was feeding her. 'I know I should tell her the truth. She's not a child anymore.' Xena just couldn't bring herself to admit to Gabrielle where they were really heading. They spent the better part of the afternoon talking about everything and nothing.

Gabrielle, for her part, was loving life to its fullest. Except for the minor altercation she had this morning with demons from her sleep, the last twenty-four hours were the best time she had in her life. 'Xena treated me like an adult when she thought there might be trouble. Then she volunteered a night's stay at the inn. She even spent the entire afternoon with me at the marketplace, at her suggestion.' Gabrielle turned these bits of information over and over in her head. 'Things really have changed in the last two years, but when?' It had been such a slow process that Gabrielle couldn't pinpoint the beginning. 'I guess I just wore her down.'

Gabrielle continued to chew on these thoughts and others, and the more she chewed, the less palpable they became. 'Is this change in Xena something she wanted, or is she merely giving in to my constant prodding?' Gabrielle began to work the events of the last twenty-four hours over in her mind again, in light of this new thought. Looking back, Gabrielle was now sure that the real reason Xena left her alone at the dance was so that she would have been more approachable. 'If Xena really loved me, she wouldn't have allowed that to happen. She wanted me in the arms of someone else. Anyone else but her. She stated herself that had she known I couldn't dance, she would have shown me in time for the dance, so that I could have accepted the offer to dance from that man.'

Xena noted that it was quiet. Too quiet. She glanced behind to see if the bard was still there. What she saw concerned her. Gabrielle was scuffling along, head down, brows knitted together. She appeared to be holding a conversation with herself. Her mouth worked at forming words, but none came out. "Gabrielle," Xena called back to her friend. There was no response.

Gabrielle chewed harder on these new thoughts, and a bitter taste was forming in her mouth. Remembering last evening, she realized that during the entire dance lesson, Xena had kept a respectable distance between them. '*I* was the one who first instigated contact. *I* kissed her.

Xena slowed Argo. She was becoming more concerned. She knew it wasn't unusual for Gabrielle to sometimes go off into a world of her own; Xena always thought that was where some of her bard's best stories came from. 'But it's not the smartest thing to do when you're out on the road. Even if you do have the warrior princess to keep you safe.' Xena watched as Gabrielle came abreast of her and Argo, and continued on, oblivious of her surroundings. "Gabrielle?" Xena called out. Again there was no response.

'Gods, I'm so confused,' Gabrielle cried to herself. It was then that she looked up and realized that Xena and Argo were no longer in front of her. She panicked and gripped her staff with both hands spinning wildly around. There, some thirty paces behind her, sat Xena on Argo. A look of total confusion was evident on both women's faces. "Xena. What are you..." Gabrielle did not finish the sentence. She merely started to head back the way she came.

Xena urged Argo on and met her half way. "Gabrielle. Are you OK?" Xena tried to figure out what was on her friend's mind to no avail.

"Uh, yeah. I guess so," the bard said, wobbling slightly where she stood. She leaned on her staff for support.

"You don't look so good. You're as pale as a ghost." Xena was now really concerned for her friend. 'She seemed fine just a little while ago.' "Give me your hand," she instructed Gabrielle.

"No Xena, really. I'm fine."

"Gabrielle. You're pale as a ghost and you can barely stand. Now give me your hand." Xena gave her that look. She was not going to take no for an answer.

The last thing Gabrielle wanted was to make physical contact with Xena, but she understood the look she was getting from the warrior. There would be no questioning her command. She finally relented, and soon found herself easily plucked from the earth and sitting behind Xena. Gabrielle sat as far back in the saddle as was possible, and tentatively held onto the warrior at the sides of her waist with just her fingertips. She prayed to any God that was willing to listen to not let her fall off.

Xena was not sure what was going on behind her, but she needed to feel Gabrielle to know that she was still there and alright. Momentarily dropping the reins, Xena reached behind herself with both hands and grasped her young friend's hands in hers. She wrapped Gabrielle's arms around her waist, and clasped both her wrists firmly in one hand.

Gabrielle never had a chance. Before she knew it, she was pressed tightly against the back that she had tried so hard to distance herself from. She flushed with desire as Xena urged Argo on, and the rhythmic movement of the warrior's body rubbed against hers.

"There's a quiet clearing a few miles up the road," Xena commented more to herself than Gabrielle. "We'll stop there for the evening."

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Chapter 06

Xena normally didn't mind the quiet, but not at the expense of her friend. Gabrielle had been distant and withdrawn the entire evening. She still went about her chores helping to set up camp, but hardly a word was spoken between the two. Xena went off to lay her traps, and ended up bringing a nice sized skinned and dressed rabbit back to camp. Gabrielle quietly accepted it, and roasted it to perfection as usual. When Xena noticed from across the fire that Gabrielle did nothing more than pick at her food, Xena did the only thing she could think of. Gabrielle watched as Xena went over to the saddle bags and rummaged around inside. She returned and sat next to Gabrielle. Xena waited in silence. Slowly, Gabrielle raised her eyes and met Xena's. Xena smiled and handed her a cloth bag.

Gabrielle hesitantly accepted it, not sure just what was going on. She looked back into the warrior's blue eyes, lost again in the ocean before her. Gulping hard, she forced her eyes from Xena and to the package in her lap. She reached inside and wrapped her hand around a familiar object. Her eyes lit up as she extracted an entire loaf of nutbread from the cloth bag. "Xena! Where did you get... You got this from Androniki, didn't you?" Gabrielle asked and answered her own question.

"I knew how much you liked the stuff. So when I went up to get you a slice, I informed her that I was hoping she would still have a loaf left to sell me later on. I'm not sure, but I think I may have been a little intimidating. She answered yes so quickly and emphatically, you'd have thought I was going to burn the town to the ground if she had refused."

"Well Xena, you can sometimes be a little scary, even when you don't mean to." Gabrielle watched Xena for her response, already regretting her comment.

"Gab... I've never... I've never scared you, have I?" Xena wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer.

"Well... uh..."

"When!?!"

"Do you remember when we first started traveling together? You could be very intimidating when you wanted your way. At first you scared me. Earlier today when you wanted me to ride with you and I refused... What would you have done if I hadn't given in?"

"I... " Xena didn't know how to answer. She never even considered the possibility that she would be refused. "You know I would never hurt you."

Gabrielle tried to reassure her. "Oh Xena, I know you never would." She reached out and touched her forearm. "But Androniki and the others don't know this. When you've got that look, you can be very intimidating."

Both women sat in silence, absorbed in their own thoughts. Xena was in shock. 'How could I have not known how I made her feel? I love her.' Xena was sure she could feel her heart being ripped from her chest. Her insides churned and she was positive she was going to be physically sick. 'Gabrielle's been acting strange all afternoon. Has she changed her mind about us and is too afraid to tell me? Gods! What does she think I'd do to her?' "Gabrielle? I know something is bothering you." Xena tried to speak in as calm and reassuring a voice as she could. "When you're ready to talk about it, I'll be here for you." Xena got up and went back to the other side of the fire.

Gabrielle just sat there, her emotions in flux. She loved Xena so much. 'But does she love me? How could she love a simple girl from Poteidaia? I'm not even sure how to love another woman.' Gabrielle absentmindedly broke off a hunk of the nutbread and began to eat. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until her first mouthful. Gabrielle smiled to herself. Xena never failed to do the little things that showed her how much she really cared. 'Xena is truly a good friend, but could she be more?' Gabrielle decided she needed to know.

She got up and crossed to Xena's side of the fire. Wordlessly she sat and offered her a piece of nutbread. Xena dutifully accepted. She had already learned her lesson when it came to defying her young friend. "Xena?"

"Mm?"

"About last night."

Xena froze. She knew this was coming. 'Hell, I even asked for it.' Xena knew she owed it to her friend to look her in the eye, but she just couldn't do it. She continued to stare into the fire. "Yes Gabrielle?"

"You left me alone on purpose at that dance, didn't you?" It was more a statement of fact than a question. She didn't give Xena a chance to respond. "You set me up. Why, Xena? Why?"

Xena sat there, not sure of how to answer. She wanted to tell Gabrielle that it broke her heart to leave her alone there. That she loved her and that it was all a big mistake. 'But if she is having second thoughts, I need to give her a way out.' "I thought it was for the best. You deserve better than me."

"*You* thought it was for the best?" Gabrielle grabbed Xena by the shoulders and spun her around to face her. The startled warrior's first instinct was to strike back, but she caught herself in time and quietly allowed the bard to vent her frustrations. Gabrielle seized her chin in her hand and thrust Xena's face up to meet hers. "Did you ever stop to consider what *I* thought was for the best?! No! I'm not a little girl, Xena. I know what I want. I want you..." Gabrielle continued to hold Xena's gaze. "I love you."

"I never thought you had any feelings for me in that way. I was afraid that if I admitted my feelings, I'd lose you." Xena tried to look away, but Gabrielle had a lock on her eyes that she could not break. "And then today -- you were acting so strangely. I thought maybe you changed your mind and didn't know how to tell me."

"Oh Xena." Gabrielle released the death grip she still had on the warrior's chin and cupped her cheek in her palm. "I had talked myself into believing that you didn't love me. Why do we do this to each other? You've got to tell me what you're thinking. I don't know if I can take much more of this."

"I wasn't the only one to hold back on my feelings. And you. A bard," Xena allowed a little lopsided grin to cross her face.

"Heh... well... you know this bard stuff can be hard work sometimes." Gabrielle's eyes twinkled at the sight of the smile on her friend's face. "Xena?"

"Yes Gabrielle?"

"I'm starved." With these two words, Xena knew she had her friend back for sure.

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The next two days were spent in their usual routine. Up early in the morning, and after a quick breakfast, off on the road. A stop for lunch, and on again until dinner. They passed other travelers on the road, but mercifully there was no trouble. In the evening, Xena would find a quiet spot off the main road, where they made camp. Gabrielle spent time writing in her scrolls, while Xena sat across the fire, catching up on some mending of her leathers, gauntlets and greaves.

If days were pleasant, the nights were even more so. With their bedrolls next to each other, they spent the time before sleep in each other's arms. Sometimes discussing the day's events, sometimes looking up at the stars dreaming, and sometimes not saying anything at all. Xena soon came to realize that Gabrielle's bold advances the night of the dance were short lived, as the bard quickly reverted to her normally modest ways. Even so, Xena found herself relishing the quiet kisses of her naturally curious friend and gave her all the time she needed to become comfortable with their new relationship.

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The third day was quickly looking like it would drop into the history books as a repeat of the last two when the sky opened up. It happened so quickly and with such intensity that it even caught Xena off guard. Slanted sheets of stinging rain began to pelt them down the front of their bodies. They were soaked before they had a chance. Still, Xena dismounted Argo and pulled their capes from their traveling bags. "Here," Xena shouted, trying to be heard over the din of the storm. She wrapped one of the capes protectively around Gabrielle. "It's too late to stay dry," she laughed, "but at least it'll help absorb the sting of this rain." She quickly wrapped the other cape around herself.

Tugging on Xena's arm to get her attention Gabrielle pleaded, "We've got to turn back."

Xena turned her back to the storm and stood squarely in front of her companion, trying to block her from the incoming stabs of rain. "I wish we could," Xena replied, looking into the eyes of the woman she loved. "We haven't passed any suitable shelter in three candle marks. And we'd never be able to out run this storm. Our best chance is to head into it, and hope to break through to the other side."

Gabrielle couldn't hear every word Xena said, but she heard enough to understand what direction they were headed in. She squeezed Xena's arm and nodded her head in the affirmative, too exhausted to try to shout. She didn't particularly like this plan, but knew Xena would do anything to keep her safe. That's why she was positive she must have not heard Xena correctly, when the warrior shouted out the next part of her plan. "Repeat that!" Gabrielle looked at Xena incredulously.

"I said," Xena raised her voice as she bent closer to Gabrielle's ear. "I want you to ride up front with me on Argo!"

"Yep! That's what I thought you said," she shot back, grabbing the front of Xena's cape for emphasis. "No way -- uh uh -- sorry. I'm not getting up there."

"You've got to ride if we're going to make it through."

"Fine. Then I'll ride in back."

"You won't be safe. I'll need two hands on Argo's reins and it's just too slippery. I won't take that chance. Please." Xena executed a fine argument, but that last word was all it took. Gabrielle planted a kiss on Xena's cheek as she gave her a quick hug. They walked over to where the mare was impatiently waiting. "Sorry for ignoring you girl," Xena said, as she patted the flank of her horse. "I'll get us out of this." Argo turned to look at her, too miserable to respond. Xena turned her attention back to Gabrielle. "I'm going to lift you up first, then mount behind you. Hold on to the saddle horn when you get up there."

Gabrielle turned her back to Xena, expecting her friend to give her a boost so she could throw her leg over the saddle, when Xena spun her around and swiftly lifted her up so she was sitting side-saddle. The sudden change in altitude caught Gabrielle by surprise, and she clung to the saddle horn for all she was worth as Xena swung up in the saddle next to her. "This wasn't exactly what I had in mind," Gabrielle shouted, as her left hand frantically grasped Xena's arm for support. She watched as Xena wordlessly opened her cape to the storm to accept her to her body. Gabrielle didn't need a written invitation. She buried herself into the front of the warrior, disappearing into the folds of Xena's cape. With her trembling package securely fastened around her waist, Xena headed straight into the storm.

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Chapter 07

The flicker of light through the trees ahead was a welcome sight for Xena. They had successfully made it through to the other side of the storm and the rain had eased up significantly. Gabrielle was still nowhere in sight. She hadn't come up for air since she buried herself into the warrior, and Xena didn't have the heart to disturb her. She silently headed for the light.

"Gabrielle. Gabrielle? C'mon. Time to wake up." Xena spoke quietly into the bundle she uncovered when she opened her cape. They had stopped in front of an inn in a small village. 'I can't believe what this girl can sleep through,' Xena mused to herself. She stroked the bard's back with her right hand, while her partner's head slowly raised itself from the left side of Xena's chest.

Very bleary green eyes came within inches of sparkling blue ones. Gabrielle tried to focus. Xena let out a chuckle at the sight of her friend, her breath tickling the back of Gabrielle's throat. "Wha's so funny?" she managed to get out.

"Oh... I'm sorry. It's just that... well... you look like a drowned rat," Xena animated, as tears of laughter rolled down her cheeks.

"Well, you try burying yourself under all of this," Gabrielle replied, indicating both her and Xena's capes. "I think I sweated off at least five pounds!" She leaned back and slowly filled her lungs with cold fresh air, trying to clear the fog from her brain. Looking around she continued, "Where are we?"

"I've found us an inn for the night. There's not a dry place to camp for miles." Gabrielle warmed quickly to the thought of a *dry* bed. Xena quickly dismounted and helped Gabrielle slide down into her waiting arms.

"Ooo, I'm stiff." Gabrielle stood on wobbly legs, rolling her head trying to get the kinks out. "I can't believe I'm going to say this, but I think I could use a hot bath."

"Then a hot bath it is. I don't think you could get any wetter, but the soak will help to loosen your muscles. Why don't you get us a room while I stable Argo."

"Sure thing." The thought of getting out of this rain was music to her ears. She accepted her staff, which Xena had retrieved and assembled, and headed for the warmth of the inn. The perceived notion of pending warmth was soon forgotten as Gabrielle entered the inn. Silence hung in the air as the dinner crowd and the innkeeper turned to eye the stranger. It dawned on Gabrielle that the long black cape and hood covering her face were the cause, so she quickly threw back the hood and opened the cape, hoping to belie their fears.

Small murmured whispers passed amongst the dinner patrons, as the innkeeper still regarded her with a critical eye. Gabrielle donned her best bardic smile as she approached him. "Hi. I'd like to rent a room for the night."

The innkeeper openly eyed Gabrielle up and down, pausing too long at her bare mid-riff and small green halter top. Gabrielle started to feel like a side of beef, being considered for purchase. She looked away to the dinner patrons, unable to meet the eyes that were now boring through her. It was then that she realized that every other woman in the inn was covered from head to foot. The only skin showing was their hands and face. Gabrielle self-consciously wrapped her cape back around herself.

"Are you alone?" the innkeeper asked, his eyes once again roaming over Gabrielle, recalling the sight.

"No. I'm waiting for -"

"Well then, Missy," he interrupted. "Why don't you have a seat and wait for your man to get here." He wasn't used to dealing with women folk, and was real curious as to what kind of a man would let his woman run around half naked.

"If it's all the same to you, I'd like a room now." Gabrielle was soaked and exhausted, and was simply not in the mood for this. "And besides," she added, "the 'he' I'm waiting for is a 'she'."

A look of disgust replaced the leer on the innkeeper's face. "I run a family business. Why don't you two take it back outside in the woods, with the rest of the animals."

"My friend and I just want a room for the night. We don't want any trouble."

"I bet that's not all your *friend* wants," the drunk at the bar to Gabrielle's right slurred. "Maybe a little midnight snack too, hum?" He leaned over and suggestively fingered the front of her cape.

Gabrielle disgustedly tore away from the offense, and glared at the people gawking at her.

"We ain't got no room for the likes of you," the innkeeper said, wiping his hands on a dirty cloth. "You best be on your way. Now get out of my inn."

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Gabrielle ran from the inn and straight into the arms of a startled Xena, who reflexively dropped their bags on the ground and embraced her back. Gabrielle didn't mean to, but tears came as she clung to her. She berated herself for not taking care of the situation, but she was just too tired to think straight. "Gabrielle! What's the matter? Are you hurt?" Xena pulled her friend off of her, and carefully checked her over in the moonlight.

"No, I'm fine." She grasped the warrior's hands, stopping the examination. "The innkeeper... he... he wouldn't rent me a room."

"Wouldn't?" Xena raised Gabrielle's face to meet hers. "Are you sure you understood him correctly?"

"Oh yeah. I understood him just fine. He said he doesn't rent rooms out to our kind."

"Our kind?" Xena heard herself again repeating what the bard just told her, but she didn't believe getting a room for the night was going to end up being such a big deal. Xena's voice lowered into a growl. "What did he mean by *our kind*?"

"He assumed I was traveling with a man, and when I corrected him, he said he ran a family business and that we should take it back outside with the rest of the animals."

Xena saw red. "C'mon, Gabrielle. Let's get us a room." Xena grabbed their bags and entered the inn, keeping Gabrielle protectively behind her.

The tall black caped figure just stood there, eyeing the innkeeper from the folds of the hood. The innkeeper stood there for a moment, thinking that maybe he had heard the little girl wrong. She was obviously with a man after all. He started to relax a little, trying to think of an appropriate way to apologize for his earlier remarks, when Xena dropped their bags, pushed the hood back off her face and threw off her cape.

"Xena!" Gabrielle pleaded, as she tried to put a restraining hand on the warrior's arm. Xena's name echoed as it passed along the lips of the patrons. There were also reverberations of Warrior Princess, Warlord, and murderer.

Xena thought about taking care of this in a polite manner, but she was cold and tired and hungry and wet. 'And a cold, tired, hungry and *wet* warrior doesn't know the meaning of polite,' she grimly reminded herself. The bar, which was the only protection the innkeeper had between himself and a very pissed off warrior soon disappeared as Xena vaulted it and had him pinned up against the back wall. Her actions were so quick he was still holding the drink he had just poured. "Thanks," Xena drawled, as she took the drink and downed it with one swallow. "Don't mind if I do." She placed the empty mug on the counter to her right, and slammed her right hand on the wall, just inches away from his head. She leaned into him, her whole body a breath away from his. He was forced to look straight up to meet her glare, and the water from her hair slowly dripped onto his face.

With her left hand, Xena executed a little maneuver she had learned from her warlord days. It wasn't lethal, but prolonged use could cause disability. It was also a great attention getter. If done right, it was subtle enough not to call attention to itself from anybody else watching. And Xena didn't want her young friend to see her inflicting any pain. She slid her left hand between them and gathered a handful of his baggy pants at his waist. With a simple twist of her wrist and a raising of her forearm, Xena let his own pants put a strangle hold on his manhood. She lifted her forearm another inch, and the poor man was now attempting to support as much of his weight as he could on his toes.

"I thought you were in the business of renting rooms," Xena hissed through clenched jaws. She ratcheted her left forearm up a few more degrees, and he could quickly feel his manhood disintegrate.

"I run a clean -- respectable family business," he managed to get past the lump in his throat. He was too scared to think what that lump might actually be. "I didn't want any trouble."

"Well, you've got a funny way of showing it. Now, my friend asked politely about a room. Now it's my turn. I'd like a room." Xena's arm ratcheted up a degree. "And hot baths." Ratchet. "And hot food." Ratchet. "And drink." Ratchet. By this time all he could do was violently shake his head yes. Words were beyond his comprehension to form. "Thanks," Xena smiled. She patted him on the right side of his face, as she lowered him back to the floor.

Xena lifted her head and straightened her shoulders back to her full six feet, and fluidly walked around the bar and back to where Gabrielle was still standing. She nonchalantly gathered her cape and their bags from her friend, and placing a protective arm around her love, led her to the stairs. There they followed the now wincing innkeeper as he showed them to their room. No one in the crowded room below dared to comment on the physical contact the warrior was showing her friend as they ascended the stairs.

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Chapter 08

"Here," the innkeeper meekly said, as he showed them into their room. Using the candle he carried, he went about the room lighting candles. He then proceeded to the fireplace, where he attempted to get a fire started. He found it increasingly difficult to do so, while trying to keep an eye on the warrior. He was scared for his life now that he was alone with her.

"I'll get that," Xena barked at him. She appreciated the way he almost jumped out of his skin at the sound of her voice. 'Very reassuring.' She smiled. He turned to her but would not make eye contact. "I want a tub with plenty of hot water brought to the room. And hot food and drink. And plenty of extra blankets and towels," she added as an afterthought. When she realized the man was still standing there she finished, "Now!" He was out the door in a flash.

"Wow! That must have been some look you gave him." Gabrielle stood there looking at Xena in wide-eyed wonderment. "He wouldn't even look you in the eye. Must have been a real attention grabber."

"Yeah. You could say that." Xena chuckled as she realized that the entire time the innkeeper was in the room, he never took his eyes off her left hand. "A real attention grabber."

Xena soon had a fire going. "Here, give me that thing." She walked over to Gabrielle and lifted the soggy cape from her shoulders. "This thing weighs a ton." She dragged two chairs over to the fire, and laid the capes as close as she dared. Xena returned to her friend and directed her to sit on the edge of the bed. She pulled the blanket from the bed and draped it over Gabrielle's shoulders. Gabrielle just sat there. All her strength had seeped from her body. And to top it off, she had a pounding headache.

"Let me give you a hand. We've got to get you out of these wet clothes." Xena knelt before her, and worked on getting her boots off. The wet leather laces stubbornly complied after a few strong tugs. Xena then went to work on the laces of her top and finally her skirt. For Gabrielle's part, she simply obeyed Xena's commands to lift her arms, stand and sit. When Xena was done, she had a beautiful, naked, freezing bard sitting before her. Xena wrapped the blanket around her trembling friend and began to vigorously rub her arms and legs, doing what she could to generate heat. A tentative knock on the door stopped her efforts.

Xena made sure Gabrielle was properly covered and called, "Come in." She stood and turned, putting herself between her friend and the door. When Xena saw that the tub had arrived, she moved the chairs with the wet capes to the side of the fireplace, and directed the two young men to place the tub in front of the fireplace. They quickly did as instructed, and proceeded to make numerous trips to the hallway to retrieve buckets of hot water. When the tub was full, they brought even more buckets in and placed them near the fire. As they were readying to leave, one of the young men eyed the young woman's clothes strewn about the floor and met the icy cold stare of the warrior. Grabbing his friend by the arm, they beat a hasty retreat. As soon as they exited, two young girls appeared at the open door.

From their ruddy complexion and round, freckled faces, Xena knew they had to be daughters of the innkeeper. "Come in," she called to them. They hesitated for a moment, not sure they loved their father anymore for sticking them with this chore. Xena saw the normal signs of fear that she evoked, and gave them a warm smile as she sat on the bed next to Gabrielle. She hoped the change in her height would also help to put them at ease. The older girl entered first with a tray laden with food. She placed it on the small table inside the door. The younger girl still stood rooted in the doorway. Xena gave her a winning smile and said, "C'mer." The girl automatically obeyed, a smile spreading across her face. Xena took the blankets and towels offered her, and placed them on the bed behind her.

"Kristin, come here!" her older sister begged. She wanted to get out of the room before that warrior ate them for dinner.

"Kyra, she's nice! I told you she wouldn't eat us!" Kyra just looked at her younger sister, not believing that she had just let the warrior woman know her deepest, darkest fear.

"Eat you!?!" Gabrielle startled them both with a laugh as she playfully punched Xena on the upper arm. "What have people been filling your imaginations with?" she wondered out loud. Kristin quickly backed away from the two women, not sure she wanted to be witness to what the warrior would do in retaliation for being struck. She stopped cold when she saw Xena place her arm around the strawberry blonde haired woman and give her a gentle squeeze.

"Kyra. Please give your father a message from me. Tell him thank you for the quick service, and that I don't want to be disturbed. You can come for the dinner dishes tomorrow." Both girls nodded and quickly left.

"So now you eat children," Gabrielle admonished her. "Since when was there a change in your diet?"

"Two moons ago. Didn't I mention it? A mystic healer told me I should get more young meat in my diet."

"I think she meant veal and lamb."

"Oh. Now you tell me." Both women erupted into fits of laughter.

"Xena, where do they come up with these stories?" Gabrielle asked, as she wiped a tear from her face.

"I don't know, Gab But they never cease to amaze me." Xena stood in front of Gabrielle and helped her to her feet. "Now, let's get you in that tub before the water turns cold." She unwrapped the precious bundle before her and took the now damp blanket and Gabrielle's clothes to lay them by the fire.

Gabrielle made a beeline for the tub. "Oh, Xena. I didn't think it could feel so good to get wet all over again." Gabrielle slowly lowered her tired limbs into the hot water.

Xena brought the tray of food over to the tub. "We best eat this while it's hot. I'm not in the mood to have to go downstairs to get it reheated." Xena handed her friend a hot bowl of stew while she quickly peeled herself out of her wet leathers and wrapped a blanket around herself. She settled herself next to the tub and the two quietly ate their meal.

Gabrielle used the last of the bread to sop up the remaining broth in her bowl. "That was really good! Even though he is a royal pain in the -"

"Gabrielle!"

"Well he is, Xena. Like I was saying. Even though he's a *royal pain* he certainly serves a fine meal. I didn't realize how hungry I was. All I could think of earlier was a nice, warm, dry bed. Now look at me. Sitting in a tub pickling my skin and stuffing my face!" Xena reached in the tub and ran her fingers through the water. "Hey! You getting fresh with me?"

"Only if you ask nicely," Xena teased. She got up from the floor and retrieved the kettle of hot water she had placed over the fire. She carefully added it to the tub. "Here," Xena said, taking the bar of soap in her hands. "Let me wash your hair." She knelt behind Gabrielle and lathered her hands. She gathered the strawberry blonde tresses in her hands and proceeded to wash Gabrielle's hair, as well as gently massage her neck and temples.

"Ouch! No, no. Don't stop. That feels sooo good. Yes... a little to the right. That's the spot." Gabrielle leaned back into Xena, allowing the warrior healer's magic fingers to release the tension that had been building in her head. Xena was more than happy to oblige. 'I don't think I've ever been more pampered in my entire life.' This was yet another side to Xena that she never bothered to try to explain to anybody. They would never believe her. It would surprise people to learn how gentle her hands could be. How the same fingers that were calloused from years of fighting, held such healing powers.

The crackle and spittle from the fire and an occasional murmured whimper from Gabrielle when Xena's fingers found a tender spot were the only sounds emanating from the small room. Xena was entranced by the sounds coming from Gabrielle. She closed her eyes and imagined how she could make other sounds escape those beautiful lips. 'Just a small kiss here. And maybe another one there. My tongue running down her... mmm... delicious. And her... Ooo between my fingers... squeezing... pinching. Feeling her... so wet. Taking her. Yes!'

The rhythm of the massage Gabrielle was receiving had changed a few minutes ago, replaced with long, smooth, slow strokes. She had almost drifted off to sleep then, relaxed and lulled into a beautiful dream. Suddenly her heart skipped a beat and her eyes widened when she felt more than heard a ragged breath escape Xena. Xena's hands had traveled down her neck, over her shoulders, and were now pliantly massaging her upper arms. Down and back up. Down and back up, Xena's hands worked the flesh of her arms. Xena was leaning further into Gabrielle, her head pressed up alongside her love's head, lips a breath away from her right ear.

'Oh my Gods,' Gabrielle cried to herself, as she felt the muscles in her upper thighs constrict. 'This is no time for a cramp.' Try as she might, she had no idea how to relieve it, and had no idea of it's true source. Another ragged breath escaped Xena's lips. 'My, it's getting mighty warm in here.' Gabrielle giggled softly. She knew where the source of *that* was coming from. 'Xena.' Xena, who now had her earlobe in her mouth, and was lightly sucking and biting on it. Xena, whose hands never ceased in their tireless efforts to touch and manipulate her arms, then back up to her shoulders and now down to her - "Oh... GODS," Gabrielle groaned, as she found her body arching to meet the warrior's latest assault on her flesh. She turned her head and captured Xena's mouth, feeling the power of Xena's lips crush into hers.

For Xena's part, she hadn't realized that it had progressed beyond a simple massage until Gabrielle's lips found hers. Until then, she was content to simply enjoy her innocent fantasy. Gabrielle's lips brought her back to reality, and she was startled to realize her fantasy had spilled over when she felt soft and responsive breasts under her hands. Xena yanked her hands from the bard and pushed herself away from the tub. "Gabrielle... I'm so sorry... I... I didn't realize..." She looked down and examined her hands, wondering how they could have betrayed her.

Gabrielle spun around and watched as the warrior sat there transfixed on her hands. Her mind raced to think of what to say to bring Xena back to her. She had started something that her body needed to have finished. "Xena. Xena..." Gabrielle waited for what seemed like an eternity for Xena to meet her eyes. She extended her hand and said simply, "Please."

Xena could see the desire in Gabrielle's eyes, and felt her own passion growing. She reached for the offered hand and lightly brushed fingertips. The connection was magnetic. She found herself drawn into those sea-mist green eyes, and slowly covered the distance. "Gabrielle, I don't want to -" All thought was lost as Gabrielle brushed her lips over the warrior's again and again.

"Xena. You didn't do anything I didn't want you to do." She slid her hands around Xena's neck and pulled her in. Their lips met, and Gabrielle could feel her nipples cry out as they rubbed on the metal surface of the tub. She grasped Xena's hands and slowly pivoted in the tub, allowing her head to fall back on the warrior's chest. With slow, deliberate movements she brought Xena's hands around her neck and down her chest, breaking the surface of the water and urging them on. "Xena... please," Gabrielle begged, as she urged the warrior's hands over her soft flesh.

Xena marveled at the boldness of the bard as she felt small hands pressing hers down. She leaned into Gabrielle and began to slowly massage her breasts. Gabrielle pushed back into the warrior and arched her back as she turned and found her lips. Xena savored the taste of Gabrielle's lips with her tongue, and with a small flick, was soon sweeping it over her bard's teeth. Gabrielle started to say Xena's name, and that was all the enticement Xena needed, as Gabrielle swiftly found a large, warm tongue battling hers for space in her mouth. Xena's tongue was like a small child's; inquisitive, exploring every recess, touching and tasting. Gabrielle moaned deeply, clutching the rim of the tub with white knuckles. Xena responded by lavishing more attention on the now erect nipples below the surface of the water. She rolled them between her fingers as Gabrielle's body was propelled further and further into Xena's expert hands.

"Xena... Please!" the bard begged, as Xena left her mouth and ventured around to taste her neck. She lingered over the taut skin of her partner's arched neck for a moment, before beginning to trail hot kisses down to the water's edge. Gabrielle, fearful that Xena would stop once she reached the water, thrust her body upwards. Her breasts broke the surface of the water like two newly formed islands. This was an unneeded move on the bard's part. Xena was already willing to drown to get to her targets of desire and had no intention of stopping when her tongue hit the water.

Xena knew this was Gabrielle's first time with a woman, and she desperately wanted to be as gentle as possible with her. Even though she had been with Perdicus for one night, Xena was not sure what he had showed her, since Gabrielle had always been bashful when it came to matters of intimacy. All of these wonderful, rational thoughts were soon lost on Xena as she witnessed those two beautiful breasts heaving to meet her. She descended teeth first to meet the right one, biting the hard nipple with uncontrollable lust.

"Xena!... Oh... Gods!... XENA!" Gabrielle panted, trying to force air past her scorched throat and into her lungs. "PLEASE!" She strained to force more of herself between Xena's teeth. The muscles of her thighs were so constricted that you could have bounced a dinar off them. All of her weight was now being supported by her heels which she had dug into the bottom of the tub, and her hands, which had become permanent fixtures to its sides. When Xena stretched to lavish the same attention on the left breast, Gabrielle had her pleas answered. Xena's left breast brushed over the bard's cheek and fell into her waiting mouth. The feel of Xena's erect nipple in her mouth sent Gabrielle over the edge. Her screams may have been somewhat muffled at the time, but Xena felt them course through her body and she followed Gabrielle moments later.

Xena supported Gabrielle's now limp body, fearful she would simply slip under the water otherwise. "Xena?" Gabrielle whispered.

"I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

"I think my headache's gone." She looked up to see the lopsided grin on her lover's face.

"Oh, I can't wait to see my next patient's face when I try out my new remedy!"

"Don't you even think about it."

"No?"

"That one you save for me. And I feel like I'm going to have a sudden surge in headaches." She softly laughed as mock exasperation spread over Xena's face.

Gabrielle looked down at the puckered skin of her fingers and sobbed, "If I don't get out of this water soon, this may become permanent." She sat up under her own strength, and Xena retrieved a towel from the bed. Refusing to make eye contact with Xena as she returned, Gabrielle admitted with great embarrassment, "I... I don't think I can stand on my own."

Xena smiled apologetically, only now realizing the true effect she had on Gabrielle. "Let me help you." Xena slung the towel over her shoulder and stooped over the side of the tub, scooping Gabrielle up in her arms. She cradled the bard to her body and headed for the bed. There, she slid Gabrielle to her feet and with one arm supporting the bard under her shoulder, she proceeded to wrap the towel around her. Xena scooped her back up and gently placed her on the bed, lingering for a moment to steal a kiss. Before Gabrielle had a chance to return it, Xena broke away. "If you start something now," Xena sheepishly admitted, "I'll never get my bath."

"Xena! I completely forgot. Why didn't you remind me?"

Xena threw a guilty look over her shoulder as she headed to the fire for hot water. "I was a little preoccupied," she confessed. She filled the tub once again with hot water and made quick work of her bath.

Returning to the bed carrying two white shifts, she tossed one to Gabrielle. After drying herself with a towel, she snatched the bard's discarded towel and went to lay them by the fire to dry. "Xena. Could you bring me my satchel?"

"Sure." She returned and handed it to Gabrielle, who was now sitting with her back against the headboard. Xena sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed, combing her hair.

Gabrielle dug around the satchel a moment, and produced a small multicolored tin. She presented it to Xena. "What's this?" Xena inquired, as she worked the top off.

"Dessert!" Gabrielle beamed.

Xena's eyes lit up when she spotted the small treats. Where did you find them?"

"At the harvest festival. I know they're your favorite."

"They were my favorite," Xena corrected her, as she popped one in her mouth.

Gabrielle looked dejected. "Were?"

Xena leaned over and furnished Gabrielle with a long, smoldering kiss. "They've got stiff competition now," she husked, as they both came up for air. She proceeded to place one of the treats between Gabrielle's lips, and popped another one in her mouth. "But that doesn't mean we still can't enjoy them," she finished, smiling.

Xena added more wood to the fire before returning to bed and blowing out the last of the candles. She crawled under the covers and joined Gabrielle, who was lying with her back to Xena. Rolling onto her left side, Xena wrapped her right arm around her love's waist and pulled Gabrielle to her. She draped her arm around her chest and nestled her chin atop her head, realizing they were anatomically built for each other. Gabrielle flinched when Xena's hand brushed across her breast. "Gabrielle. Are you OK?" asked an alarmed Xena. "I didn't hurt you earlier, did I?" She instantly felt guilty about her aggressive actions during their lovemaking.

"Well... I am a little sore," she admitted. "But a nice sore," she added quickly, as she gave her friend's arm a reassuring squeeze.

"I'm so sorry. You should have told me. Do you want me to get you some salve?"

"No. I'll be fine. You know..." Gabrielle paused. She was glad she had her back to Xena. She wanted to be open with her, but knew that what she wanted to say she couldn't bring herself to say to Xena's face. "I never knew it could be so... so intense." Gabrielle could feel her face flush just thinking about it.

"But Perdicus?" Xena was all too aware of the one night Gabrielle had with him, though she normally tried to push it to the recesses of her mind.

"Well, he... ah... he knew it was my first time, and he was so sweet, so gentle." Gabrielle thought back to that night. "Too gentle," she admitted. "I never felt with him what I felt with you."

It suddenly dawned on Xena that what Gabrielle was trying to say was that she never achieved orgasm with Perdicus. 'But she did with me.' Xena smiled at this realization.

Gabrielle wiggled back a little further wanting contact with as much of Xena as she could possibly manage. "It can't get any better than this," she murmured more to herself than Xena.

"Just wait."

Gabrielle stiffened for an instant, and then relaxed as Xena pulled her in, enveloping her in warmth and love.

[faveficarchive]

AND STILL SHE FOLLOWS

by Cousin Liz

1997 Nov 16

Disclaimers: The characters of Xena: Warrior Princess are owned by MCA Pictures and used here without permission. No copyright infringement was intended in the writing of this story.

There are displays of graphic sex between consenting adults, as well as a non-consensual sex scene. Violence... this story deals with the aftereffects of war. If this type of story offends you, or you are not old enough to read it, please stop reading now.

I hope you all enjoy.

Chapter 1

'After only a short time, I no longer noticed the stench of the dead or the dying. It has been what, four, maybe five days since I entered the battle? I'm really not sure. Now all I can smell is victory... and it smells so sweet. Funny how victory smells so much like death and dying.'

Xena had hoped that she would be able to put a stop to the warfare before it had a chance to begin. Her old friend King Evander had called on her for help, but she and Gabrielle arrived at the outskirts of his kingdom too late. Both sides in this civil land dispute were well entrenched and the battle had already been raging for nearly two days. King Than, with the help of the ruthless warlord Kragon, was determined to wrestle the land at the Northern border of King Evander's kingdom away from him. This narrow strip of land was the only viable passage through the mountains to the Aegean sea, and was a heavily traveled trade route.

King Evander's monarchy, which had had possession of this land for eight generations, always allowed free access through the pass. King Than saw the pass as a highly profitable money-making venture. His plans were to seize the land and charge exorbitant fees for the privilege of crossing rights. For this, the two kingdoms had gone to war. Kragon, smelling profit, had been willing to sacrifice his men for victory, and soon neither side were taking prisoners. Xena soon found herself doing whatever was necessary to win the battle, and the warrior's sword ran red with the blood of countless.

Xena reveled in the victory. The war was over, yet her body cried out for more. She had forgotten how alive she could feel when she was closest to death. And Xena was surrounded by it. Her nerve endings tingled as her blood pumped fiercely through her body. She was alive! But she knew she had Gabrielle to thank for her forgetfulness. For the last two years, and especially the past few months, the love that Gabrielle had shown her had awoken feelings of hope and a renewed sense of life she had thought were long lost. With Gabrielle at her side, Xena felt she just might actually have a chance at life. For now, she concentrated on the warmth she felt when thinking about her bard, and tried to quell the carnal thoughts that were threatening to surface.

The warrior pushed her dirt-matted mane of black hair from her eyes and surveyed the carnage. Kragon's army was good -- very good. But he never stood a chance against a warrior determined to protect innocent people *and* her bard. Wiping the blood and gore from her blade on one of the nameless bodies at her feet, Xena walked from the battlefield in search of Gabrielle.

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Gabrielle. She had managed to saddle Argo and lead her down to the edge of the battlefield near a small stream to wait for Xena. The bard wanted to be away from the carnage as quickly as possible. The last four days had been a nightmare. Blood was everywhere, and the bodies never seemed to stop streaming in. Each time the tent flap flew open with another body on a stretcher, Gabrielle found herself wanting to rush over and make sure it was not her warrior. She longed to see Xena, but dreaded the thought of it happening. Instead, she found herself swabbing and stitching the wounds of so many that soon they were just faceless souls and she was but one among them. Gabrielle felt nothing anymore. Despair, then grief, followed by anger, had all passed. She was an empty vessel in need of filling. Unfortunately, all that filled her was the blood. The blood of so many had covered her that she could not seem to rid herself of it. And the blood never stopped; her green top covered in crimson splotches that had soaked through to her flesh.

The bard knelt at the stream and plunged her arms into the cold, rushing water, scrubbing furiously to rid herself of the gore and stench that covered her. Disregarding her normally modest disposition, Gabrielle ripped off her green halter and continued to scrub the blood from her body. When she was done, she quickly donned the beige blouse that she had gratefully accepted from one of the village women who had helped with the wounded. It was a tight fit, but Gabrielle managed to button it close.

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Xena walked slowly through the battlefield, carefully picking her way over the dead bodies that had not been gathered up yet. The warrior had known that if a battle ensued, it would be particularly bloody and brutal. Kragon was as ruthless as they came. She had tried in vain to keep Gabrielle from coming, but as usual the bard was adamant. No amount of pleading worked. And this wasn't the first time. No matter what Gabrielle said, Xena would never forgive herself for taking Gabrielle through the Thesselian- Mitoan war zone. She had almost lost Gabrielle for good, and it was as she cradled the lifeless body of her best friend in her arms that the warrior first realized that she could not live without her love... Gabrielle. Afterwards, Xena was not sure which had frightened her more -- Gabrielle dying in her arms, or the fact that this young, naive girl from Poteidaia had gotten past her defenses and firmly entrenched herself in the warrior's heart. 'Not even dying could keep us separated. Somehow, she fought her way back -- to me. It was the greatest gift I have ever received. And still she follows.'

The sight of her warhorse Argo, patiently waiting at the edge of the battlefield by a small copse of trees, caught the warrior's eye. Xena scanned the area and could just make out a strawberry blonde head of hair peeking out from behind the tall overgrowth at the edge of the clearing. Gabrielle was apparently kneeling by Argo, intent on some task. Xena's heart leapt. The warrior had not seen her since this had all began, and bounded over to the pair. As she neared she pulled up abruptly, her heart beating wildly and her breath catching at the sight of her lover kneeling before her. Gabrielle was focused on repacking her traveling bag and had not noticed Xena's arrival.

Xena's mind strayed to thoughts of the women and children that remained at Than's kingdom as dark recollections tried to push their way to the forefront of her memory. More times than she dared to count, she had found herself alone in her tent with one of the women from such a village her army had just defeated. Standing tall and defiant in her warlord's black leather and long, flowing cape, the warrior reveled in the power she wielded before the small form knelt in submissiveness before the "Warrior Princess." And the battle lust that had raged in the warrior's heart would only be quenched as the young woman yielded to the warrior's seductive powers.

Xena shoved the dark thoughts that were threatening to spill out back into the recesses of her mind, where she fought to keep them hidden. But the sight of Gabrielle kneeling before her was too close to her nightmarish thoughts. Xena pictured herself closing the distance between them. She watched, mesmerized, as her left hand reached down, wrapping itself in the young woman's hair as her body lowered itself on to the startled girl. Her mouth quickly descended onto Gabrielle's as her left hand firmly held the bard's head in check. Xena's free hand began to roam over the bard's body, quickly finding its way under the girl's skirt and straight to its goal.

"Xena? Xena?! Are you OK?" Gabrielle stood from where she was checking her traveling bag and faced her friend.

"Huh?!"

"You looked distant. Are you hurt?!" A slight panic crept into the bard's voice as she warily eyed the blood that covered her warrior lover.

"No, no. I'm fine. I just..." Xena's mind tried unsuccessfully to push the lurid images from her mind that she just had of forcing herself on her best friend. 'What has gotten into me?!' The warrior analyzed her feelings and desires and came to a logical conclusion. Xena recognized the symptoms all too clearly. Battle lust. It had been a long time since she had felt it this strongly.

Gabrielle covered the distance between them so quickly that the warrior never had a chance. She flung herself at Xena, wrapping her arms around the stunned warrior and burying her face in Xena's chest without giving a second thought to the blood and dirt that covered her lover. "Gods, I've missed you," the bard whispered as she pulled Xena into an even tighter embrace. "I was so worried." Gabrielle felt the gnawing hunger in her gut become only partially satiated as the warrior enveloped her in strong, knowing arms..

Xena quietly held her for a long moment, before using the excuse of her appearance to slowly extricate herself from Gabrielle's firm hold. "There is a small village a couple of hours south of here," Xena began, trying to change the subject. "I want to be there before the approaching storm is upon us." If Gabrielle had thought Xena was talking about the weather, she would have only been half right. The warrior turned her back to Gabrielle and busied herself with checking the tall warhorse's saddle. With a grace that belied her body's true state, she mounted and started off. She did not offer her young lover a ride. The warrior could not trust herself to remain that close and not act on the feelings of lust that were quickly overtaking her. Gabrielle quickly gathered up her traveling bag and staff and followed on foot. The two lovers traveled in uneasy silence.

Xena had her share of skirmishes over the recent years with road bandits and the occasional lightweight warlord, but nothing had come close to the bloody war that had waged. She had almost come close with the Horde. But Gabrielle's humanity had successfully intervened before it was too late. 'But not before she had been confronted with a small glimpse of my dark half. I had been willing to do anything, sacrifice anything, to protect her. I don't know if she truly realized what I was willing to give up to keep her safe, but she got a small taste of what lurks just under the surface. And still she follows.'

Xena wondered what would have happened if Gabrielle hadn't been able to help bring an end to that war before it got out of hand. She cringed inwardly at the thought of her dark side possibly escaping again, although at one time it had served her well. Destroyer of Nations. Murderer of Men. Defiler of Women. It was a reputation she had proudly worn, although it was not built entirely on fact. There was no denying her sword was stained red with the blood of thousands, but she had never resorted to rape. Yes, she occasionally *helped* herself to one of the young women from a village her army plundered. And if asked later, the bits of information garnered from these girls through tears of shame, always spoke of a domineering warlord bitch taking what she wanted and leaving them battered and broken, never wanting to be touched again. But that was not the real story. They would never admit that once inside the privacy of the warrior's tent, she had simply seduced them, every last one of them. Xena knew how to use her body. She was capable of stripping them bare of the last vestiges of their dignity, reducing the young girls to begging and groveling on their hands and knees to be taken. In the end they had unashamedly offered themselves up fully to the Warrior Princess and were eagerly willing to perform acts that only a few candlemarks ago they had never dreamt of. These small, intimate conquests fueled the warrior's lust for power and she took all that was offered her... until that fateful day.

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Chapter 2

Dark memories from a time long ago began to creep from the recesses of the warrior's mind. She normally had the strength to keep them at bay, though they were not entirely forgotten. In the past two years, those acts had weighed heavily on her conscience. Xena had never been able to forgive herself and had spent many a sleepless night because of this. Now, the lingering sights and smells of the battle provoked recollections she wished she could banish. The flood gates opened and the ultimate defilement she had perpetrated on a young girl came rushing back to the forefront of her memory.

The warlord's newly formed army had entered a village looking for tribute. Xena had expected to collect and simply move on. Instead, they were met by resistive villagers who decided to take a stand and protect what little they had. It was a pity they hadn't decided to better protect their real treasures from the warlord and her army. The villagers were no real match, but they had caught Xena and her men off guard. The warrior soon found her leathers dripping in the blood of men unwilling to surrender. They fought valiantly to protect their homes and property but were eventually slaughtered, and the women and children rounded up.

Xena was about to offer the survivors one last chance to comply to her demands when one young woman, who appeared to be about seventeen winters old, spat in the warrior's face. "You will never take me as a slave," she announced vehemently. "I'd rather die first!" Xena swiped at the spittle trailing down her cheek and licked it sensuously off of her fingers. "We'll see about that." She motioned to two of her men who came over and bound and then dragged the young girl into the nearby tavern.

Sex with the few chosen warriors in her army that Xena had allowed herself to get close to had been getting boring lately. 'Yes,' she thought. 'This is exactly what I need.' The warrior didn't have a name for it, but she had been noticing a growing need for physical as well as sexual release after a hard-fought battle. She had even found herself drawn to picking up the services of whores at nearby inns to satisfy her cravings.

Xena had already decided on this young girl for a night of passion. Her appetite was voracious, and the way the young girl had defiantly made eye contact instead of bowing her head like the rest of the women had inflamed the warrior's being. Young village women were usually never this daring in public. It was only afterwards, when the warlord had folded back the petals of their delicate upbringing, exposing their tight bud of innocence and lapping up their sweet nectar, that their inhibitions would be thrown off. It was then that Xena enjoyed the fruits of her labor.

She had hoped to spend an evening hearing the young girl scream her name out in the throes of passion, but she quickly changed her mind. This girl had publicly humiliated her. The warrior coldly decided that there would be no seduction tonight. 'I will take what I want, *and* make a statement at the same time that will not go unnoticed by the rest of the villagers.'

The captured villagers were taken to the village's meeting hall next door to the tavern and secured while Xena loitered outside. She wanted to let the girl's imagination work in her favor for a while. She knew she was going to be in for a fun evening. This time she would live up to her reputation. She smiled to herself as she entered the tavern.

The warrior found the girl sitting with her hands bound to a support beam in the middle of the dining area, struggling to free herself. As she drew near, the girl abruptly kicked her left leg upwards catching Xena squarely in the crotch. The warrior was momentarily stunned, but quickly recuperated. With a feral grin spreading across her face, the warlord advanced on the young girl, her breast dagger drawn. The girl sat there silently seething, doing her best not to show fear.

"I see you like it rough," the warrior quipped. "Well, if that's the way you want it..." Xena reached down and sliced the girl's hands free from the beam. Grabbing her by her long blonde hair, she flung the girl halfway across the room to land hard against a large wooden dining table.

Xena advanced quickly on the crumpled form. Hauling her to her feet, the warrior brought the girl's face within inches of her own. "I had planned on conducting business from the comfort of a soft bed," the warrior growled as she motioned with her head to the stairs leading to the rooms upstairs. "But... you appear to prefer a different setting. That's fine by me," she hissed. The warrior swiped her arm across the dining table to her right, scattering the unfinished meals in a wide arc across the room. The warlord threw the girl face down on top of the table, the young girl's legs straddling one of the table legs. Xena moved to the opposite corner of the table and grabbing the young girl's forearms, pulled her towards herself until the girl's toes dangled two to three inches off of the floor. Using her whip the warrior bound the writhing girl's arms together before securing the whip to the table leg.

The warlord bent down and studied the young girl's face. The girl turned away, but not before Xena saw the look of fear that she tried so hard to hide. Brushing her lips against the girl's ear so there would be no mistaking the warrior's next comment, Xena seductively breathed three simple words into her ear. "You... are... mine." The warrior chuckled at the whimpered response her words invoked.

Xena slowly walked back around, lazily running a finger around the perimeter of the table. Once behind the girl, she waited patiently. Eventually, the young girl stopped trying to free herself, wary of the warlord's next move. Bending down behind the young girl, the warrior grabbed the hem of her long skirt and pushed it up to gather around her waist. Xena then hooked her fingers in the girl's britches and tugged them down to fall uselessly to the ground below. Moments later, the Warrior Princess, Defiler of Women, deposited her own britches inches from the young girl's face. The girl frantically renewed her efforts to free herself as the realization of the warlord's probable intentions flooded her mind.

The girl finally stilled her futile attempts to work her hands free and tried to look behind herself to see what the warlord was doing. Xena stood motionless in the hushed silence, just inches from the girl's backside. Her eyes were riveted on the plump ass cheeks before her as she allowed her own anticipation to slowly build, heightening her already inflamed senses. When she could stand it no longer, the warrior finally closed the distance between them. Placing her hands firmly on the creamy white mounds of flesh before her, Xena began to roughly knead the girl's cheeks while slowly spreading the trembling legs wide.

The warrior straddled the young girl's left leg, positioning herself over her left ass cheek. Gripping her firmly by the hips she brought the girl's body up to meet hers as she began thrusting herself fiercely against the girl's backside. Following each thrust the girl's body slapped back down onto the table, the corner driving itself painfully between the girl's splayed legs. Xena could feel the heat of her desire beginning to burn her to her core, and frantically increased her pace, her need for release overwhelming all other senses.

Animalistic grunts soon escaped from the warrior as she surged, feeling herself nearing climax. "No one, but NO one will *EVER* humiliate me in front of my men and get away unpunished," the warlord barked through quickening pants. Her short nails drew blood as she continued to slam her throbbing sex against the small form under her. Xena drove herself furiously, oblivious to the pleas that coursed past the girl's gritted teeth as her virginal backside reddened from the continued assault. Suddenly a white hot fury escaped from the warrior and Xena fell forward onto the young girl, crushing her under her armor. Clutching the sides of the table the warrior continued to ride the young girl unmercifully, biting her on her left shoulder as she felt her climax imminent. Suddenly she stiffened. Arching her back and clamping her thighs down hard on the girl, she exploded. Afterwards, the warrior continued to slide herself along the girl's slick wet thigh, pumping more juices from her convulsing sex.

Finally satiated she collapsed, sprawled on top of the girl. "Hmm, I don't know," Xena drawled into the girl's left ear. "It seems to me that you'll make a *fine* slave. What do you think?" the warrior asked, reaching under the girl and pinching her right nipple roughly through her blouse. The girl swallowed hard, but not before a whimpered cry escaped from her. Thinking she could get off again by bringing the girl over, Xena slid off and stood once again behind her. Grabbing her by the hips, the warrior lifted the young girl, spinning her around and dropping her on the table so she was lying face up. The girl winced as her stinging backside hit the rough, uneven planks of the table. Xena grabbed the young girl and pulled her towards her, positioning the girl's ass cheeks at the corner of the table; her legs dangling in the air over the sides.

Xena slid her hands up the girl's inner thighs, spreading her legs wide. She was about to lean into the girl to make contact with her own sex when she paused. Curiously, she fingered the girl's sex, gingerly probing the opening. She was shocked, yet deliriously elated, when her finger met with resistance as she began to enter the girl. 'A virgin!' her mind cried out. "My, my. Why didn't you tell me, my sweet, *innocent* thing?!" Xena leaned over until she was just inches from the girl's anguished face. "Allow me to leave you with something to always remember me by," she purred.

Unceremoniously, the warrior plunged two fingers deep into the young girl, tearing past the thin membrane that shielded her innocence. The girl cried out in horror and shock, and Xena merely laughed in her face. Standing back up, the warrior proudly displayed two bloody fingers before wiping them clean on the front of the girl's crumpled skirt and exiting the tavern. As usual, Xena was correct. The broken girl made a fine example to the rest. They easily got the tribute they desired before leaving to conquer new *lands*.

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Chapter 3

The image of the young girl slowly faded from Xena's memory, only to be replaced by a vision of Gabrielle as she looked when the warrior princess first met her in Poteidaia. The ex-warlord had just saved her and her village from the wrath of slavers. She was so young and innocent, so much like the girl the warrior had defiled. Before Xena had a chance to be on her way, Gabrielle had confronted her. 'And she wanted me, an ex-warlord, to take her away. She was so naive. If she had only known what I was capable of, she would have run screaming in the opposite direction. I even did my best to scare her away, threatening her lest she make me angry. And still she follows.'

A sudden clap of foreboding thunder brought the warrior out of her reverie. Xena glanced behind herself to find Gabrielle a few paces off, leaning heavily on her staff in her attempt to keep up. "The village is just a short way off," the warrior called back, as she turned back to the dusty road picking up her pace.

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A young stable boy rushed up as Xena dismounted Argo. He stopped abruptly at the sight of the bloody and dirty warrior. Too frightened to advance or even turn and run, he stood frozen in his tracks. Xena caught his eye and quietly held Argo's reins out to him. He slowly advanced, due more to the magnetic pull of the warrior's eyes than his own motor skills. Xena laid the reins in his shaking, outstretched hand and instructed him to take *good* care of her horse. The boy violently shook his head in the affirmative before leading Argo away.

Gabrielle, who had been waiting patiently during this exchange, turned and shuffled towards the inn, with Xena close behind. The inn was practically empty. The lunch crowd had already dispersed, and it was too early for the dinner crowd. Two sets of eyes greeted the pair as they entered. A young barmaid, probably the innkeeper's daughter, had been busily washing down tables when she looked up and gasped. She hurriedly turned and bent back to her task, afraid to make eye contact with the disturbing sight. The innkeeper left his seat at the end of the bar and quietly approached. He did his best to act like all of his customers came in looking like rejects from Tartarus.

Gabrielle, without a word, placed a few dinars on the bar. The innkeeper looked from the bard's face to Xena's and directed them to a room upstairs. The bard eyed the steep narrow staircase and with an audible sigh, started heading towards it. Xena hesitated. She looked from Gabrielle to the front door before returning her gaze to the disappearing form of the young girl. Shaking her head slowly back and forth, the warrior gingerly took the stairs two at a time to catch up.

Xena passed Gabrielle in the upstairs hallway and headed for their room. She opened the door, and as was her custom, paused at the threshold surveying the room. Satisfied, she entered. The room was nothing special. A bed in the far left corner, a small table to the left of the door, and a cold unlit fireplace off to the right. The window on the far wall allowed the only light that fell across the room, the bleak dark-grey light of the afternoon casting the room in long, unforgiving shadows.

Xena knew this was wrong. All wrong. She had to get out of there. The warrior had planned on saddling Argo and riding, just riding furiously until she was so exhausted that nothing mattered. She wasn't sure if it would help quell the intense feelings that were churning in her heart, but she would rather die than expose Gabrielle to her carnal desires. 'Or anybody else for that matter,' the warrior reminded herself. Xena's mind wandered to thoughts of the young barmaid downstairs. She was exactly the kind of girl the former warlord would have been interested in. Young... pretty... shy... And very likely a virgin. Instead of a sense of conquest, all the warrior felt was a deep regret about her past actions. The thought of being with another person no longer had any appeal. She wanted Gabrielle. 'And that cannot be.'

Xena flinched at the sound of the heavy wooden door closing and the locking bolt swinging securely into place. Her warrior senses immediately heightened as the primitive sense of being trapped momentarily overtook her. Her nostrils flared and she took in a sudden lungful of air before slowly exhaling and willing herself back under control. The warrior berated herself. It was normal for her body to be attuned to her surroundings, but during the aftermath of a particularly bloody battle, her senses sizzled at the slightest physical stimuli. This was evident as her skin suddenly prickled as a million tiny nerve endings announced Gabrielle's closeness to her back.

"Take me."

The words were uttered so softly that they almost floated undetected out the open window, to be torn and scattered upon the winds of the rising storm. But those two words did not escape the warrior's extraordinary hearing and their registration stilled her rapidly beating heart. She whirled around, taking a few unsteady steps backward. Xena knew full well the source of those two words, yet still she hoped to see somebody, anybody other than her young lover standing before her. She was not sure if she was more startled by the utterance from an up-to-now silent bard or the word's implications. The warrior's heart raged, their implications being more than she could bear. Xena tried vainly to quell the growing inferno of emotions that threatened to spill out, but there was no denying her need for release. 'Just... not here... not now... not with *her*,' she cried to herself. Her blood pounded in her veins, and a loud thrumming behind her eyes caused her vision to momentarily blur. The warrior gave her head a few harsh shakes and refocused on the silent form before her.

Xena clamped her mouth shut and swallowed the words she had been about to utter. There was no need in asking Gabrielle if she knew what she was asking of the warrior. Xena could tell simply by the young girl's body language. Gabrielle's arms were outstretched, welcoming her lover with an intense longing in her eyes that the warrior had never seen before.

Xena found herself only an arms length away from Gabrielle. The warrior silently battled her dark half. She had only planned on staying at the inn long enough to make sure that Gabrielle was safe, before making up some excuse to leave. Because for Gabrielle to be truly safe, the warrior knew that she needed to put as much distance between them as possible. Now she was torn. Up until now sex with her new lover had been wonderful, loving, carefree and restrained. Xena had always been afraid to let even a little bit of her dark side out to play. And with the discipline born of a warrior, she had been able to hold it in check. Until now. She longed for release, and Gabrielle was welcoming her to her bosom. Against Xena's better judgement it was an offer she did not want to refuse.

Xena's conscience told her to run, but her body betrayed her. Reaching out, she grasped Gabrielle's jaw between her thumb and forefinger. The bard clutched the warrior's forearm with both hands, looking up into Xena's eyes. The warrior appraisingly took in the full, soft, pouting lips, the long delicate neck, and could just imagine the creamy flesh that awaited her behind the blouse. Xena swallowed hard, already imagining the sweet taste of those lips, not unlike a reformed drunk would imagine the sweet burn of alcohol down their throat as they would lovingly run their fingers over a cold, sweating glass of spirits.

The warrior met the bard's eyes, and Gabrielle found herself unable to hold her gaze. She quickly dropped her eyes to her hands. Xena tilted the bard's face up, but still Gabrielle averted her eyes. "Look at me," she ordered, and the bard quickly complied. What Gabrielle saw reflected back to her in those two dark blue pools of liquid fire was a smoldering desire barely held in check. The bard gulped audibly and subconsciously tightened her grasp.

Never breaking eye contact, Xena tightened her hold on the bard's jaw and pulled her forward. Thrusting the young girl's face up to hers, she pulled the girl up onto her tip-toes and captured the lips she longed to taste. Xena slid her hand down the bard's neck, wrapping her fingers around the soft flesh of her throat. The warrior's tongue insisted on winning entrance to the young girl's mouth, and the moment Gabrielle's jaw surrendered, Xena thrust her large wet member fully into the girl, taking possession.

A low growl emanated from the depths of Xena's soul as she hungrily seized the girl's tongue, sucking it into her own mouth. Gabrielle moaned into the warrior's mouth as Xena slowly released her tongue, running her teeth along the length of it's shaft. Capturing the bard's lower lip between her own, she lightly nipped at the soft flesh. When Gabrielle yelped at the feeling of sharp teeth on her tender lip, Xena bit down again before releasing her hold. Gabrielle stumbled backwards, her legs no longer able to support her weight. Xena quickly closed the distance between them, effectively pinning the girl between her armor and the rented room's door. She braced both of her forearms against the door on either side of the bard's head and lowered her head to stare intently into two very large orbs of green.

The sensuous writhing of the young girl's body against hers was more than Xena could handle. "You want this, don't you?" the warrior whispered as her lips caressed the bard's right ear. "You want to feel my mouth on you, suckling your breasts, isn't that right? Hmm?" Xena snaked her tongue out and traced the folds of the bard's ear before sighing. Gabrielle could only moan softly in response. "Feel my mouth sliding over your skin, licking, tasting, consuming." Xena ran her right hand lightly down the front of the young girl's body, which twitched uncontrollably from the feather-light touch.

Pushing the front of the bard's skirt up around her waist, the warrior grasped the young girl by the hips and adeptly kneed her in the crotch. Xena luxuriated in the feel of the girl's soft cotton undergarment rubbing up her thigh as she pushed her lower leg against the door, forcing the bard to stand on tiptoe. They were now practically eye-to-eye. Xena stared into the glistening pale green eyes before her. "Give yourself to me," she stated simply, as her muscular thigh began its rhythmic assault on the young woman's already sopping wet sex.

Gabrielle's head flew up and her eyes riveted on the ceiling above. The long sinuous line of the bard's neck caught the warrior's eye, and Xena lowered her head, greedily sinking her teeth into the taut flesh before her. She sucked hungrily on the feast offered her as her entire body methodically kept up the same slow, torturous movements against the trembling flesh that her thigh had started. The bard felt herself torn in two directions. Her body wanted - - no -- craved to be taken by this powerful woman, but her naturally modest demeanor made her question her needs. Her fists found purchase on the armor on the warrior's shoulders, and she half-heartedly tried to push the larger woman away.

A fire began to burn in the warrior's eyes as she felt the small form before her begin to meekly resist her advances. It would have been so easy to give in completely to her dark thoughts. It had been so long since the warrior felt this kind of power. But Xena fought it with an intensity she did not think she had. The warrior stilled her rhythmic movements against the girl and brought her hands up to the bard's head, tilting the young girl's face down to meet her intense gaze. Xena watched as Gabrielle audibly gulped, a slight look of panic forming in her eyes. In a low voice that burred its way into the girl's head Xena insisted, "I want the truth. You can't lie to me. Do you want me to stop?"

The bard stood there for a long moment, debating whether to give the answer she thought she must, or the truth. Slowly, her hands slipped from the warrior's armor and her arms fell to her sides. Unable to break Xena's gaze, she looked the older woman directly in the eyes and whispered, "No." Xena knew she had the truth. A smile slowly spread across the warrior's face as she seized the bard's wrists, pinning them to the solid wooden door behind her.

The warrior's thigh soon returned to fervently thrusting itself into the young girl's sex, followed almost immediately by the rest of her body against the bard. Gabrielle squirmed seductively against the warrior's assault, her head lolling to the side as Xena slowly worked her way around the right side of her neck, capturing and tugging on the now exposed earlobe. The bard's quick, shallow pants tickled the warrior's ear, and Xena sadistically slowed the pace of her thrusting thigh on the girl's sensitized sex, deciding to stretch the delicious torture out for as long as possible. The warrior chuckled at the quiet cry of disappointment that soon followed.

Xena brought both of the girl's slender arms over her head and transferred ownership of the bard's left wrist to her left hand. The warrior continued to easily hold the bard's wrists as she brought her free hand down to the collar of the young girl's peasant blouse. She lightly fingered the rough beige material, eyeing the two full breasts that strained under the too-tight top. She was well aware of the two perfect jewels that were hidden just behind the cloth barrier, and the warrior's raw passion would not be denied.

Grabbing a handful of material, she unmercifully ripped the blouse from the front of the bard's body. Two luscious mounds of sweet flesh fell free from their constrictive confines, the small pink nipples already hardened and erect with desire. The warrior's free hand instinctively latched onto the bard's left breast, roughly kneading the soft mound of flesh in her large, callused hand. Xena's mouth started its own slow, torturous path down her right collarbone and across the now exposed flesh of the young girl's shoulder, biting and sucking along the way. The warrior savored the sweet taste of sweat as it emanated from the pores of the flesh under her lips. After what felt like an eternity, her mouth had worked its way to the soft skin above Gabrielle's right breast. Poised over the swollen erect nipple, her head stilled. She casually glanced up and in the waning light of the day saw the anxious longing that flickered over the bard's features. Xena let out a low chuckle as the girl squeezed her eyes shut, biting down a little nervously on her lower lip. Turning back to the breast in question the warrior quickly flicked her tongue once over the tip of the puckered flesh.

The bard attempted but failed to stifle a cry. Xena looked up from her meal to see the girl's eyes still tightly closed and her mouth clenched shut. The warrior reached up and ran her thumb over the bard's lips. Gabrielle's eyes flew open. Xena continued to massage her lips, slowly working her thumb between the young girl's lips and into her mouth. "I want to hear you. Hear what I do for you. Don't hold anything back." Xena returned to the bard's breast and once again flicked her tongue over the nipple. This time a small whimper escaped past the girl's lips as Xena's thumb played with the bard's tongue.

The warrior continued the small licks, first to one breast and then the other, graduating slowly to intimate kisses. The small whimpers that escaped Gabrielle's lips soon turned to full-fledged groans of desire. The warrior's blood began to boil at the intoxicating power this young girl wielded over her, driving her on. Her hand returned to one of the breasts, before she opened her mouth wide, consuming the other breast whole. She ground her face into the heaving bosom offered her, relishing the feel of the nipple on the back of her tongue. Slowly she pulled her mouth away, stopping to bite and twist the nipple between her teeth as the tip of her tongue flicked itself rapidly over the swollen hard nub. Gabrielle's cries of pleasure and need spurred the warrior on, and Xena repeated this exquisite assault on the young flesh again and again as her right hand continued to twist and pinch the other hard nipple.

With a slight touch of regret, Xena's hand left the bard's breast unattended. She slowly ran her hand down the side of Gabrielle's body, coming to rest on the young girl's hip. Lazily, she trailed the tips of two fingers up the inside of the bard's creamy white thigh, delighting in the muscles that twitched and jumped from her touch. With deliberate ease, she snaked those same two fingers between the top of her thigh and the girls hot, pulsing sex, and bit down hard on the nipple still in her possession as a whimpered groan escaped past the young girl's gritted teeth. Extracting her now dripping fingers, the warrior proceeded to smear the hot juices brusquely over the young girl's lips. Xena's mouth quickly descended onto the bard's glistening lips, and saliva and juices were joined in a sweet ambrosial mix that inflamed the warrior to new heights.

With her right thigh pinning the young girl steadfastly to the door, the warrior released her hold on one of the girl's wrists, catching it with her free hand and bringing both of the bard's hands down to her sides. Xena's mouth lowered to the front of the girl's throat where she sucked and nipped at the small hollow. Sliding their hands over the young girl's hips Xena repeatedly thrust the bard's body up and back down her rock hard thigh, marveling at the hot slick trail of fluid lathering her flesh. Short, ragged pants issued unbridled from the bard, and this time Xena answered her unspoken plea by quickening her pace.

"You know you want this," the warrior purred into the young girl's ear. "C'mon. You can do it. You're almost there." Xena continued to urge the young girl on. "Let yourself go. Give yourself over to me," she demanded. When Xena felt the bard's thigh muscles clench and lock on to her own thigh, she slowly slid the girl down its long length and held her firmly against the door. The warrior then began to grind her knee in a circular pattern into the bard's throbbing sex as the young girl's hips bucked violently with her imminent release. Gabrielle threw her head back as a torrent of screams were suddenly unleashed from her soul.

Finally, the bard's upper body fell back limp against the door, her arms dangling uselessly at her sides. Her chest heaved uncontrollably as she fought to push air down her burning lungs. Xena took the heaving bosoms as an open invitation and quickly engulfed the young girl's right breast in her mouth, sucking and biting with wild abandon. Her stamina knew no bounds as she continued her pursuit to take all that the bard was willing to give. The young girl's eyes flew open at this newest assault on her flesh, still reeling from the continued grinding of the warrior's right knee. She groaned and mumbled incoherently as Xena's right hand came up and rolled and pinched her other nipple, bringing both intense pleasure and pain to her now swollen and tender flesh.

Xena replaced her mouth with her left hand, slowly raising her head to come eye-to-eye with the bard. Foreheads touching and lips barely brushing each other she confided coyly, "I'm not done with you yet." A feral grin spread across her features as she noted the surprise that registered on the young girl's face. "I will enter you. You will feel me inside you everywhere, touching you, claiming you, possessing you. Nothing will be left. You will be mine." Xena's tongue uncoiled suddenly from its lair, rushing past the bard's startled lips and teeth and burrowed deep into her mouth.

The warrior's hands left the bard's breasts and worked their way behind the girl, reaching under her skirt and down her undergarment. She firmly grasped two full round cheeks, slipping her long strong fingers between them and probing the bard's intimate flesh. The startled young girl lurched forward and Xena used this momentum to pull the shaking form back up her thigh. The girl's legs latched on to the warrior's hips as Xena held the quivering mass tightly against her armor.

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Chapter 4

Still holding the bundle of raw nerves to her, Xena backed up to the edge of the bed. As she lowered herself to a sitting position, the warrior slid the young girl down, and Gabrielle came to rest straddling the warrior's thighs. While her lips, teeth and tongue continued to ply their trade on the bard's ravaged mouth, Xena scooted to the edge of the bed, perching the girl precariously on her knees. Extricating her hands from the young girl's tender backside, Xena firmly grasped the bard's thighs and slowly separated her own legs, causing the young girl's legs to splay open even farther.

Gabrielle's body began to slide down between the warrior's thighs and her hands came forward wrapping themselves around Xena's neck. The warrior caught her by the wrists and brought her arms down and behind the girl's body. "No," she stated flatly. Transferring both wrists to one hand she reached to her side and unhooked her whip. Uncoiling it, she allowed the handle to dangle to the floor. "Hold this," she commanded, as she curled the bard's hand around a length of the whip. She then proceeded to wrap the whip snugly around both wrists a few times before placing the other end in the girl's free hand. As long as Gabrielle continued to hold the whip, her hands remained bound, although they both knew all she had to do was uncurl her fingers to be free. But freedom was relative. Gabrielle was now forced to tense her leg muscles to keep from sinking between the warrior's thighs.

Xena's left hand entangled itself in the strawberry blonde hair behind the girl's head, bringing her mouth down once again on to the bard's tender lips. Reaching down between their legs and under the girl's skirt with her free hand, the warrior slid her index finger under the bard's undergarment and lightly across her swollen clitoris. Gabrielle's tense body jumped at this slight contact. "Mmm," Xena murmured into the bard's mouth. "Seems like you're ready... again." She brought her slick finger up and slipped it between their lips, sliding it first into the girl's mouth and then hers. "Taste what I do to you... so sweet." The warrior's tongue slid all around the inside of the bard's mouth, distributing bits of sweet nectar wherever it went.

Grasping a handful of hair with her left hand, Xena gently pulled the young girl's head away from hers. "I just need to take care of a little *problem* first," she drawled, as she reached between her breasts with her right hand and procured her breast dagger from its hiding place. Gabrielle's eyes widened as the light of the cold grey afternoon filtered in from the window and glinted off the steel. She watched, mesmerized, as Xena held the blade before their eyes, examining it closely. Gabrielle's attention was drawn to the window by a vicious crackle of lightening, followed a few heartbeats later by a booming roar of thunder. But her eyes quickly riveted back on the spectacle before her as the warrior brought the tip of her left index finger to meet the point of the blade. Two sets of eyes watched intently as a single drop of blood started to form.

"It looks like the storm is almost upon us," Xena stated absentmindedly, as she licked the fresh drop of blood from her finger. The warrior's left hand softly cupped the young girl's chin and sparkling blue eyes locked onto misty green. "Do you trust me?"

Gabrielle did not hesitate to answer, and stammering only a little, quickly replied, "With my life."

Xena brought the flat part of the blade down to rest on the bard's inner left thigh. The young girl's heart stilled and her breath caught in her throat as she felt the smooth steel tickling her soft down. "Stay very still," the warrior advised, as she began to slide the razor sharp blade up, easing it under Gabrielle's skirt. A small gasp escaped from the young girl as the tip of the blade momentarily came to rest at her apex before Xena slowly worked it under the bard's undergarment. The bard moved not a muscle as she felt the flat of the blade pressing on the folds of her womanhood. The warrior leaned forward and seductively ran her tongue over the young girl's lips while continuing to press the blade against her nether lips. Xena delighted in the feel of the bard's leg muscles tightening and quivering around her thighs as the young girl began to strain to lift herself off of Xena's lap and distance herself from the smooth flat object that both excited and scared her at the same time.

The warrior's tongue trailed a wet path from the bard's lips to her right ear. "Going someplace?" Xena breathed, tickling the young girl's wet ear with her hot breath and tongue. "I think not," she continued, as she got the bard's full attention by biting down on her earlobe while continuing to press the knife blade against her slippery lips. A whimper of fear escaped past the young girl's clenched teeth, and the warrior's grin widened. "I am going to make you mine, and I yours," Xena whispered, as she pulled back to look intently at the young girl. Gabrielle saw the sincerity in her warrior's eyes as Xena mouthed the word, "forever," before leaning in to claim the bard's mouth, and soul. Xena pushed the blade downwards, feeling the strain of the cotton undergarment being pulled to its limit. With a quick flick of her wrist, the warrior cleanly sliced through the offending cloth barrier that had been blocking the entrance to her prize.

She brought the dagger back up between them, examining it carefully. Not a drop of blood was found on the blade, but it did glisten with drops of something else. Xena carefully ran her tongue along the blade, lapping up the bard's sweet nectar. "Mmm, food of the gods," she muttered, "food of the gods." The warrior was brought back to reality when a long breath escaped the girl's lips and an involuntary shudder racked her body. The warrior smiled as she focused on the young girl's relieved face. "Problem solved," Xena quipped, as she cleanly flipped the dagger over the bard's shoulder and embedded it in the door. Placing both hands on the bard's knees, the warrior leaned forward, enticing the young girl's lips and teeth apart with her playful tongue. As her hands inched up the bard's inner thighs, her tongue lightly flicked in and out of the girl's mouth. "I have many skills," she murmured past the bard's quivering lips, "many skills."

Placing her left hand at the small of Gabrielle's back, Xena steadied the bard as she suddenly thrust her right hand upward, impaling the girl on two long fingers. Xena swallowed the young girl's surprised groan of pleasure as the warrior's fingers tunneled into the depths of Gabrielle's being. The force of her entrance into the bard caused Gabrielle to lift off of the warrior's lap and momentarily be suspended on Xena's hand. The bard quickly tightened her leg muscles around the warrior's rock hard thighs and held herself aloft as Xena slowly and deliciously slid her fingers out just to their tips.

Before the warrior had a chance to continue, Gabrielle dropped herself back down on to Xena's poised fingers, her need to feel the warrior possess her overriding her good sense. Blue eyes flashed and locked onto wary green. Xena's need for control almost caused her to take action, but she froze at the look of determination on the young girl's face. Gabrielle slowly lifted herself back off of the warrior's fingers and then plunged herself downwards again, a grunt escaping past her lips as the soft folds of her womanhood slid over Xena's digits burying them deep into herself.

The warrior decided she would allow herself to take a passive role -- for the moment. She kept her right hand still, allowing the bard to build up a rhythm of raising and dropping herself onto the warrior's fingers. Xena marveled at the creamy softness that was Gabrielle as the bard again and again enveloped the warrior's long digits, making love to her hand. Total passivity did not last long though as Xena's tongue quickly picked up the same rhythm of thrusts into the young girl's trembling mouth.

Gabrielle had built up quite a pace, but Xena could feel her beginning to falter as the bard's thigh muscles started to quiver. On the girl's next downward drop, Xena quickly burrowed her thumb into the bard's soft folds, unerringly finding her way to the girl's throbbing hard nub. The warrior's mouth covered the bard's as an anguished cry burst forth from her mouth. What little strength the young girl had suddenly dissipated, and her leg muscles turned to mush. She sank into the warrior's hand and Xena's thumb gladly continued its relentless attack.

As the warrior continued to excite the small hard nub, she took over where the bard left off and began sliding her fingers in and out of the girl's warm tight tunnel. Xena could tell it wouldn't take much more stimulation to bring the bard over, and paid careful attention to the young girl's body language. At the last possible moment, the warrior's fingers came to a dead standstill, buried inside the girl's convulsing sex. The bard cried out in protest, but Xena ignored the pleas.

The warrior chuckled quietly as the bard squirmed seductively on her lap. She knew what Gabrielle wanted, but wasn't ready to give it to her... yet. Xena ran her teeth along the girl's jawline, ending up at her left ear. Once there, she ran the tip of her tongue over the swirls of the bard's ear before slipping her teeth over the earlobe and quietly nipping at the flesh.

The warrior's throaty voice purred into the girl's ear. "We seem to have neglected your breasts. Do they not ache to be touched? Do they not want to feel my tongue swirling over them? Do your nipples not beg to have my lips consume them?" she cooed. Gabrielle didn't think it was possible, but she quickly forgot about the warrior's two fingers still buried deep within her, as Xena's erotic promises sent spasms of anticipation to every nerve ending in her now over-sensitized breasts.

The bard whimpered uncontrollably as Xena took her own sweet time trailing little nips and licks down her neck. As the warrior worked her way to the top of the bard's chest, Gabrielle threw her head back, placing her weight on Xena's left hand as she arched her breasts upward. The intense need that the warrior's words provoked were causing an ache that was beginning to border on painful. She arched her breasts further up, desperate for attention.

"Hmm, decisions, decisions." Xena had finally worked her way down, and happily paused before both breasts. "Which one?" The warrior waited patiently for an answer. Getting none, she repeated her question.

Gabrielle suddenly realized Xena was asking her a question and expecting her to make a decision. The bard could barely keep a coherent thought in her head and wondered frantically how she would decide. Luckily her flesh took over and her body quickly twisted, offering her left breast to the warrior.

Xena bent down, lavishing attention to the sweet flesh presented to her. Placing soft wet kisses to the outer region of the breast, she slowly worked her way inward. She then proceeded to lightly swirl her tongue over the areola, taking care to avoid the erect nipple. The bard could feel her skin nearly burning where the warrior's tongue made contact; her unspoken desires evident from the moans of pleasure passing her lips. Gabrielle thrust her breast closer to her lover's lips, fighting frantically for some form of release. Xena paused for only a moment before wrapping her lips firmly around the swollen hard nipple and sucking it into her mouth. Trapping it between her lips, she slowly tightened her hold. The bard's body trembled as the warrior's teeth grazed over the tip, before they too steadily bit down and claimed the tender flesh.

This shot a bolt of heat to the bard's loins, and her inner muscles suddenly convulsed, squeezing Xena's fingers. The warrior immediately picked up on this cue and abandoned the breast, thrusting her fingers deep inside the girl once again. This quick switch in tactics left Gabrielle dizzy. The bard's head shot up and she glared at a grinning warrior. She was about to speak but wasn't sure whether to voice her disappointment at her abandoned breast or thank the gods for the concentrated effort the warrior was giving her sex. Xena's thumb slid between the girl's lips, delving into her creamy center, finding the bard's voice box. The warrior pushed down hard on the small protrusion, moving her thumb in a tight circular pattern over the engorged nub. The question the bard was pondering suddenly became a mute point as she groaned and repeated over and over, "Oh... gods..., oh... gods..." Xena's grin widened into a full- fledge smile.

Gabrielle soon met the warrior's upward thrusts with downward plunges of her own as she tried desperately to quell the growing ache in her belly. It was a raw burning desire that up until now the young girl had never encountered. Her need to feel Xena touch her everywhere was overwhelming her senses, and she drove herself down again and again, trying to bury the warrior inside her.

Gabrielle's acute senses focused everywhere Xena was touching her. Her tender lower lip quivered as the warrior expertly sucked on it with her warm moist lips. The sensitized flesh of her sweat-soaked lower back tingled where the warrior's left hand rested. The young girl marveled at the play of rock-hard muscles under soft skin as she tightly wrapped her legs around the warrior's thighs. She was fervently aware of the way her inner muscles expanded and contracted around Xena's fingers and the warrior's thumb that knowingly swirled over her throbbing clitoris was driving her wild.

Each of these separate contacts were enough to assail the bard's senses, but taken as a whole they spiraled her spirit upwards. Gabrielle felt herself escalating higher and higher, while all the time feeling herself grounded by the warrior's touch. She was just at the peak, that barest of moments between the skyrocketing upward climb and the freefall. Just as she felt herself tipping over into that other dimension of gut-wrenching/soul-searing bliss, she felt the warrior's hand grasp her and pull her from the edge.

It took the girl a long few moments to realize that Xena had once again stilled her delving fingers deep within her. When this realization finally did take fruition, the bard honestly considered letting go of the whip and finishing the job herself. Two things stopped her. One was the strange secure feeling that had enveloped her after being bound by Xena. Yes, she would have to admit that in the last two years she had been tied up more times than she cared to remember. But this was somehow different. She knew that try as she might, Xena still felt it was her duty to protect her, keep her safe. She had argued this point with the warrior until she was blue in the face, never revealing that deep down inside she liked the security that this knowledge provided. And in this vulnerable-looking position that she now found herself in, that security she felt from her reticent warrior was only magnified. The other reason was the fact that the bard now had a stranglehold on the whip as the warrior's lips descended and made ravenous love to her right breast. Gabrielle quickly forgave Xena as she arched herself further into the warrior's mouth.

When Xena once again began pumping her fingers into the girl, Gabrielle weakly counted and then rechecked her math carefully. 'Yes!' she thought wearily. 'Thank the gods I've only got two breasts.' The bard was certain her body provided no other distractions for the warrior. No longer having the strength in her tired leg muscles to help, Gabrielle simply spread her legs as wide as possible and accepted the warrior's thrusting fingers into her. She closed her eyes tightly and concentrated all of her thoughts and senses on those two strong digits, feeling herself begin to spiral upward again.

The warrior held the squirming bard firmly on her lap, steadily increasing her fingers to a fevered pace, the girl's body trembling violently with her imminent release. "Mmm, you are so wet," Xena whispered into the bard's ear. "You have coated my hand with your sweetness." Abruptly the warrior once again stilled her fingers deep inside the young girl. The bard groaned in anguish and desperately clenched at Xena's fingers with her inner muscles, trying unsuccessfully to force them to finish their assault.

"Do you want this?" Xena asked, as she curled her fingertips upwards deep within the girl's being, raking them over a rather sensitive spot high on the bard's smooth inner walls. "You *need* this," she continued, as her hot breath and wet tongue tickled the creases of the bard's ear. "Will you die without it?" she asked sweetly, feeling the girl frantically nodding her head yes in response. Over the sobbing moans of protest by the bard, Xena slowly extricated her fingers.

"I told you that you would feel me inside you everywhere," she reminded the bard, as her index finger slid between the girl's cheeks and lightly stroked her sphincter. The shocked look on the bard's face soon disappeared as she looked deeply into the serious blue eyes boring into her. She knew the warrior *always* kept her promises. Gabrielle soon found herself squirming uncontrollably as she felt the warrior's long finger begin to massage her dark opening. "Hmm, I thought you'd like this," Xena whispered into her ear. "You are so firm... so *very* tight." Gabrielle could feel a smile splay across the warrior's face as Xena continued to nibble on her ear.

The warrior thrilled at the moans and gasps that her erotic touch produced and slowly stoked the young girl's passion, building it until the bard's body begged her to possess her. Xena obliged. The young girl cried out in alarm when she felt the tip of the warrior's index finger slowly begin to enter her virginal orifice, invading territory she never dreamt would be infiltrated. "Everywhere," Xena husked as she bit down on the bard's earlobe. "I promised you *everywhere*."

Gabrielle's head flew back and she attempted to gulp in lungfuls of air as she felt her body straining to accept this burgeoning invasion. "Just a little more," Xena assured her, as her first knuckle slowly slipped past the bard's sensitized ring of muscle and disappeared into the girl. The warrior continued to push her finger deeper into the young girl's nether region, fighting the bard's natural reflexes to expel the foreign object.

Gabrielle felt the older woman filling her completely, possessing her in a way she did not know was possible. She was more than a little shocked with how aroused she was becoming having her body taken in this new and strange way. The bard marveled at the warrior's knowledgeable touch, wondering what other surprises this magnificent woman had in store for her. She was brought out of her reverie by Xena's soft purring.

"Ooo, you are *so* very tight," the warrior muttered, as her second knuckle crossed the threshold and was enveloped by clenching muscles. "Just... a little... more," she grunted, as the last of her long digit embedded itself into the young girl. The warrior leisurely twirled her finger around, delighting in the moans of ecstasy that it elicited. Her thumb pushed past the girl's dripping blonde curls penetrating her quickly. "Mmm, I can feel myself inside of you," Xena grinned, as she teasingly began to take turns thrusting her fingers inside both of the bard's orifices, rubbing her fingers together over the thin membrane that separated them.

The warrior was unsure how much more the girl could endure and slid her left arm up the bard's back, pulling the writhing form to her. Her mouth descended on the bard's open mouth, swallowing her pants and cries. The warrior pushed her tongue past the young girl's lips, laying claim to everything inside. Gabrielle melted at the realization that the warrior had sealed her promise. She did indeed feel Xena in her *everywhere*. Gabrielle wrapped her legs under the warrior's thighs, trying unsuccessfully to clamp down on their violent shaking as her body reveled in the exquisite torture.

"You can do it," Xena encouraged her. "Just let yourself go. Give yourself over to me," she commanded. The warrior leaned back from whispering into the bard's ear and locked eyes with the young girl. The bard's glazed eyes struggled to focus through the sweat-plastered hair that fell wildly across her face. "You are mine," Xena mouthed, before her mouth descended onto the girl's quivering lips, taking all the bard had to offer. Gabrielle's groans were claimed by the warrior as the young girl's exhausted body strained to give her the release she so desperately hungered for. As her body began to buck wildly and ride the fingers that Xena had buried deep inside her, Gabrielle tore her mouth away from Xena, whipping her head from side to side in unrestrained ecstasy.

"Oh... gods... yes... please... ...XEEEEENNNNAAA!!!" Gabrielle's entire body stiffened and she abruptly exploded onto the warrior as Xena's name continued to resonate off the walls of the room. The warrior's right hand was drenched as Gabrielle freely surrendered her most precious gift. The intoxicating power the warrior successfully wielded finally quelled her prurient cravings. Xena's lips sought out Gabrielle's and she kissed her tenderly, reassuring her that everything was OK. Gabrielle's body continued to twitch and spasm for some time, and Xena quietly massaged the bard's convulsions while holding her lover tightly to her chest. After some time the older woman deftly extricated her fingers from the spent bard, and laid the palm of her hand against Gabrielle's sex, continuing the much needed connection.

As the magnitude of the last few days finally caught up with the warrior's body, Xena collapsed backwards on to the bed, her left arm covering her eyes. With the natural *high* she had been riding gone, all of the aches and pains received during battle were now making themselves known. She ignored them. All Xena could think about was what she just did, what Gabrielle had wanted her to do. The bard had told her on more than one occasion that she loved *all* of Xena, but the warrior felt vulnerable.

She felt powerless, betrayed by her own cravings. The battle lust had weakened her resolve, if only a little, and Gabrielle had been exposed to a small taste of a side of herself that Xena had hoped to always keep buried. She knew she should have dropped Gabrielle off at the entrance to the inn and fled. But she quickly talked herself into going inside and staying just long enough to see that Gabrielle successfully secured a room. Then she would leave, she had promised herself. Before she realized what she was doing, her feet were propelling her up the stairs to *their* room. 'We'll just make sure she's settled in and *then* leave,' her conscience promised her. And Xena believed.

'Would I really have been able to leave at that point?' She prayed the answer was yes. Knew at the time it *had* to be yes. But Gabrielle had changed all of that. 'Dear, sweet Gabrielle. How will I ever be able to explain my feelings to you? How do you explain battle lust to someone who has never waded through rivers of blood and felt the power as the dead and dying pile up around you.' Tears formed as the ice-blue of the warrior's eyes slowly began to melt.

Xena was brought back to the present when she felt a slight shift in Gabrielle's weight. She uncovered her eyes feeling a firm pressure on her chest. Startled, she found Gabrielle looming over her, the weight of the bard's body pressing the girl's left hand firmly into her chest armor. Then she noticed the look in Gabrielle's eyes. They were glazed over with a wild, smoldering desire.

Suddenly she felt something smooth and hard pressing into her sex and then felt it move slightly downward, to be teasingly poised over her opening. Xena looked down to see the tail end of her whip wrapped around Gabrielle's waist and followed it's path as it snaked down the length of the bard's right arm. Gabrielle's hand was holding the base of the whip handle, while the tip disappeared under the strips of the warrior's leather skirt.

Xena laid there motionless, transfixed on the sight of her young lover. The warrior inside of her wanted to jump up and put a stop to what was happening. It was not in her nature to submit to anybody. She had always felt it showed a sign of weakness. But Xena found herself unable and unwilling to do or say anything to stop the bard. She quickly realized that it would take greater strength to allow Gabrielle to take her. To take her fully to a place she had never ventured.

Xena felt the pressure of the whip handle slowly and steadily press into her, and watched mesmerized as Gabrielle lowered herself to capture her mouth, taking possession of her, body and soul. It was in those last fleeting moments, before all rational thought fled, that Xena realized, 'And still she follows.'

The End

[faveficarchive]

JANUARY THAW (Part 2)

By CJ Wells

Disclaimers: See Chapter One.

CHAPTER TWO

FRESCOES OF THE NYMPHS

Lindsay stood inside of her massive walk-in closet. Situated ever so neatly there hung an organized assortment of blouses‚ skirts‚ dress suits‚ dress slacks‚ casual dresses‚ evening dresses and elegant evening gowns. Below the clothing were shoe racks lined with footwear of almost every type. Staring at her clothing‚ Lindsay heaved a heavy sigh. My closet is the size of a warehouse and I have absolutely nothing to wear‚ she thought. She had the perfect apparel for her work‚ business meetings‚ business travel‚ fine dining and important social functions‚ but for brunch at a popular cappuccino hangout‚ with a beautiful girl‚ she believed that she was sorely lacking.

Frustrated‚ she stormed out of the closet and grabbed her car keys off her dresser before realizing that she was still only in her underwear. Laughing at herself‚ she plopped down on the edge of her bed and stared at her keys.

Lindsay Alasdair’s life had been perfectly mapped out for her. Born into extreme wealth‚ it was her destiny to step into her father’s shoes as the head of the Alasdair family fortune. As an only child‚ Lindsay was spared the quagmire of sibling rivalry‚ but she was also therein denied the joy of having a sibling. She did have friends here and there; daughters of her parents’ college friends or business associates. However‚ those relationships were often contingent on the continued association of Lindsay’s parents with the others. Richard Alasdair‚ Lindsay’s father‚ was never one to maintain close personal ties with anyone over any extended period of time‚ thus Lindsay never experienced slumber parties‚ summer camp or Saturday morning soccer matches. Sadly‚ as she grew into her teens‚ any need for friendship was replaced by a determined focus on her studies and that destiny.

Lindsay was sent away to a top boarding school on the East Coast. As an adolescent‚ her extracurricular activities were stereotypically blue-blooded: equestrian sports‚ semesters overseas‚ ski trips to Vail‚ debutante balls‚ summer vacations at Martha’s Vineyard and arranged dates with future Ivy Leaguers. As for her predetermined entry into the Ivy League‚ she chose the smaller Dartmouth for her undergraduate education.

However‚ it was during Lindsay’s first year at Harvard Business School that she met Martin MacMahon. He was completing his second year at Harvard Law. Lindsay was attracted to his keen intellect and sharp wit. They hit it off so well that they became engaged after only a six-month courtship. Although Lindsay’s mother‚ Evelyn Summerfield-Alasdair‚ was initially concerned that the two young adults were rushing into marriage‚ Richard was immediately excited about the union. Martin hailed from a prominent New England family and was a sixth generation Harvard Law graduate. Richard saw the union as the picture perfect family and business collaboration.

Despite Lindsay’s vacuumed existence‚ she did manage to keep one well-maintained secret during her formative years. When she was a young girl‚ she began pen palling with her cousin‚ Keith Newburgh. Keith was the son of one of Lindsay’s maternal aunts. Evelyn Summerfield’s family was prosperous‚ but unlike the silver spoon Alasdairs‚ who could trace their banking and real estate fortune back to before the American Revolution‚ the Summerfields were "new money" upstarts. In Richard Alasdair’s mind‚ his father-in-law was not a successful businessman‚ but rather a high-school dropout who started a commercial lumber equipment company and married a Catholic. To him‚ his wife’s siblings were equally troublesome. Evelyn’s brother Danny drank and bet on the horses. Her brother Frank protested the Vietnam War and did time for civil disobedience. Her sister Francis was twice divorced and "refused to marry" her current longtime live-in boyfriend. Evelyn’s other sister‚ Shelley Newburgh‚ also divorced‚ once danced topless at a Las Vegas nightclub. And they all voted for Bill Clinton... twice.

Because Richard considered the Summerfields to be bad influences on his precocious daughter‚ he manipulated an increasingly restrictive interaction between Lindsay and her mother’s family. It was when she was eight that Lindsay first noticed that her aunts‚ uncles and cousins were not appearing at the Alasdair estate for the annual holiday gatherings. When her favorite cousin Keith and his mom were absent from the annual fundraiser that following January‚ Lindsay sneaked her mother’s phonebook and‚ stealing one of her father’s stamps and an envelope‚ wrote Keith a letter on her notebook paper. Keith‚ who was a year older‚ wrote back and explained the reason behind his absence at the Alasdairs. Although this greatly angered the child Lindsay‚ she dared not confront her menacing father. Thus began her clandestine correspondence and friendship with her cousin Keith.

Cell phones and emailing had long ago replaced years of stealing stamps and envelopes‚ and Lindsay found herself seriously needing the advice of her dear cousin. Throwing her keys back up on the dresser‚ she grabbed her cordless and dialed Keith’s cell phone number.

"Hey sexy-mamma‚" said the voice on Lindsay’s receiver.

"Keith‚ I’m having a crisis‚" Lindsay exclaimed to her cousin.

"Calm down‚ girlfriend‚" he replied. "What’s the matter?"

"I’m having brunch in less than an hour and I don’t have a thing to wear!"

Lindsay had to take the phone receiver away from her ear to avoid the noise of the laughter that followed.

"Okay‚ here’s what you do‚" Keith said in his thick New York City accent after calming down to chuckling. "Walk into your closet‚ close your eyes and point. When you open your eyes‚ put on whatever you’re pointing at."

"I’m serious‚ you asshole!" Lindsay cried out. "I can’t wear what’s in my closet to THIS."

"Well‚ help me here‚ Lin‚" Keith replied. "What exactly is THIS?"

"I’m giving a newspaper interview‚" she declared.

"Yeah‚ and?"

"I’m meeting her at eleven."

"Okay‚ so?"

"It’s at a coffeehouse."

"Hello? I’m still not seeing the problem‚ Lin."

At that moment‚ Lindsay’s heart started pounding in her chest. "I don’t want to look stuffy‚" she said. "I want her... to know that I’m not stuffy."

"Why do you give a shit what some newspaper hack thinks‚ Lin?" Keith asked. "Hell‚ if she works for that local rag‚ she probably already thinks that you’ve got a rod up your ass."

"I don’t think she does‚" Lin said. "And if she does‚ I want to change her mind."

"Why?"

Lindsay couldn’t answer.

"Why?" Keith repeated.

"I just fucking do‚ okay?"

"Calm down‚ cuz‚" Keith stated. "Tell me what you expect from this interview and perhaps I can help you."

"I want it to be casual‚" Lindsay said after a few deep breaths to slow her heart rate. "I want to talk to her‚ not just answer questions. I want her to be comfortable with me."

Keith was at a loss as to why it was so crucial for this very important woman to impress a newspaper reporter‚ until something that he had long time suspected struck him.

"Lin‚" he started‚ "do you know this gal?"

"Not really‚" came Lindsay’s reply.

"Do you like her?"

"How can I like her if I don’t really know her?"

"Okay‚" he said after a deep sigh. "Do you want to KNOW her?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"You tell me‚ dear‚" Keith flamboyantly quipped.

"Are you going to help me here or not!?!" Lindsay exclaimed‚ obviously avoiding Keith’s line of questioning.

"I’ll help you‚ cuz‚" Keith said. "I just have one more question."

"What?" came Lindsay’s curt query.

"Does this reporter have short fingernails or play softball‚ by chance?"

"EXCUSE ME!?!"

Lindsay and Keith went back and forth for several more minutes before he was able to persuade her to wear one of her more casual blue cotton blouses with the one pair of beige low cut‚ flare-legged stretch khaki pants that she possessed. Topping the ensemble off with a wide studded belt and a pair of high-top hiking boots that she had purchased over two years ago but had not worn‚ Lindsay stood in front of her mirror and eyed her attire. A mysterious smile invaded her face. This is perfect‚ she thought before picking up and speaking to the patiently awaiting Keith.

"How are things looking on your end‚ cuz?" he asked.

"Just fine‚ Keith‚" she replied. "Thank you."

"Not a problem. Just be sure to tell me how this interview goes‚" he remarked before chuckling and hanging up.

* * * *

Rejeanne arrived at the Karmic Java Coffeehouse fifteen minutes early. She wanted to be on time and anticipated midmorning-parking problems‚ especially since piles of plowed snow on the street would have invariably sacrificed a spot or two.

Once seated‚ Rejeanne debated whether or not she should order her first double mocha latte before Lindsay’s arrival. When the waitress approached to take her order‚ she decided to wait. Fortunately‚ the wait wasn’t long.

It was only moments later when Lindsay walked into Karmic Java. Rejeanne spotted her immediately and flagged her over to the booth where she sat. As Lindsay approached‚ Rejeanne’s jaw nearly dropped. Lindsay was removing her long‚ sleek black leather coat as she walked‚ which revealed a beautifully contoured‚ casually dressed body. Hanging the coat on an adjacent hook‚ Lindsay gracefully slid into the booth. It was at that point that Rejeanne noticed that she was hopelessly staring.

"Hi‚" Rejeanne said shyly.

"Hi‚" Lindsay replied as she too realized that she was staring at the blonde beauty sitting before her. "Sorry I’m late."

"You’re not‚" Rejeanne remarked. "Actually‚ you’re a whole two minutes early."

"Groovy."

Rejeanne chuckled. "Are your parents ex-hippies too?"

"Uh‚ no. Why?"

Before Rejeanne could respond‚ the waitress reappeared.

"You first‚ Lindsay‚" Rejeanne said.

"Raspberry herbal tea‚" was Lindsay’s order.

She’s in a caffeine addict’s paradise and she orders that? Rejeanne thought. "Double mocha latte for me‚ please."

"Will either of you be ordering lunch?" the waitress asked.

Lindsay and Rejeanne looked at each other. "Perhaps in a little while‚" came Rejeanne’s response as she looked into Lindsay’s dazzling blue eyes for her approval.

"Yes‚ in a little while‚" Lindsay confirmed as she smiled at Rejeanne.

* * * *

Rejeanne’s interview began as most of her interviews begin‚ with a superficial history of her subject’s life. Lindsay told her all of the basics; her birth in New York City‚ her schooling‚ her parents’ backgrounds‚ their schooling‚ their work‚ her work and her husband’s work. She provided a general outline of the Alasdairs’ financial holdings in domestic and international banking and real estate‚ their corporate stockholdings and the rich history and valuable work of the charitable foundation. As Lindsay spoke‚ Rejeanne typed away on her laptop‚ which was positioned at an angle on the table so that it didn’t obstruct her view of Lindsay. As she typed‚ she also looked away from it occasionally to nod‚ smile or somehow affirm her interest in what Lindsay was saying. It was Rejeanne’s intent to capture the woman behind the words.

After about her third double mocha latte‚ however‚ Rejeanne was ready to alter the subject somewhat. Saving her document and closing her laptop‚ she rubbed her hands together‚ took a gulp of her latte and turned her full attention to the beauty sitting across from her.

"Okay‚ Lindsay‚" she stated. "Let’s talk about some real stuff."

"Pardon me?"

"Well‚ I know everything I need to know about ‘Lindsay Alasdair-MacMahon‚’" Rejeanne said as she cupped her fingers‚ quotation-style. "Now I want to know about home-girl Lindsay."

Lindsay couldn’t comprehend why‚ but all of a sudden‚ she was feeling nervous. "What have I not told you?"

"Well‚ for starters‚ what was your favorite TV program as a kid?"

Lindsay looked down at her mug. "I don’t think I had one."

"Okay‚ well‚ how old are you?" Rejeanne asked.

"Almost thirty-three‚" was Lindsay’s reply.

Nice age‚ Rejeanne thought. "So you mean to tell me that ‘The Facts of Life’ wasn’t totally your fave TV show?"

"Why should it have been?"

"Rich girls‚ boarding school‚ Nancy McKeon... need I say more?" Rejeanne said with a smile that made Lindsay even more nervous.

"I loved ‘The Cosby Show‚’" Lindsay finally admitted.

"I loved that show too!" Rejeanne announced. "I totally dug Mrs. Huxtable. What a classy lady. Why did you love it?"

"Because my father hated it‚" was Lindsay’s response.

"Why would your dad hate a show about a doctor married to a lawyer?"

"Because they were black."

"Oh."

"It's my dad‚ Rejeanne‚" Lindsay added.  "It's not me."

Rejeanne fell silent for a few moments‚ finally allowing herself to absorb all that she had learned about this magnificently beautiful but somewhat sad woman who sat across from her.

"Tell me about you‚ Rejeanne‚" Lindsay spoke up. 

"Me?"

"Yeah‚" Lindsay said.  "Are you from Dell Valley?"

Rejeanne smirked.  "Honestly‚ Lindsay‚ is anyone really from Dell Valley?"

"True‚" Lindsay conceded‚ considering that her parents‚ like most of the people of affluent Dell Valley‚ relocated there from other parts of the country.

"I was born in Milwaukee‚" Rejeanne started.  "Mom joint-majored in biochemistry and allied health at Marquette when Dad the grease monkey knocked her up.  They had to do the right thing then‚ so they got married."

"Are your folks from Milwaukee?"

"No‚" Rejeanne replied.  "Mom's from Madison and Dad was raised on a farm about fifty miles south of Eau Claire.  Dad lives in Milwaukee now‚ but my grandparents still live on that farm.  He grates my last nerve‚ but I do try to get up to the farm at least a couple of times in the summer to see the grandfolks.  They’re a riot. You’d love them."

A strange sensation traveled through Lindsay’s body after that last comment. "So your parents married after you were conceived‚" she remarked after relaxing somewhat. "Are they still together?"

Rejeanne started laughing uncontrollably.  "Oh‚ no‚ Mom dumped his ass before she got her degree.  Being a single mom slowed her down‚ but she eventually graduated when I was five.  Then she went to med school."

"Really?  Where?" Lindsay queried.

"Wayne State University Medical School in Detroit‚" Rejeanne answered.  "Mom and I lived in a townhouse on the massive campus of the Detroit Medical Center‚" she continued. "Detroit is eighty-eight percent African-American‚ you know. It was a real education being a part of that twelve percent."

"Was it terribly difficult?" Lindsay asked‚ finding herself thoroughly fascinated with Rejeanne.

"Naw‚ black people are much more receptive about the token white than the other way around.   But if anyone did give me any shit‚ my core group of friends had my back. I learned how to break dance and do the "smurf." I listened to early rap... you know‚ Run DMC‚ Ghetto Boys‚ NWA. I played in abandoned houses in the Cass Corridor.  Spent hours at the video arcades with my posse.  It was way cool."

Rejeanne had Lindsay’s full attention.

"Wayne State is right alongside Detroit’s cultural haven. Mom and I spent many a weekend going to the various museums there; the Institute of Arts‚ the Science Center‚ and the African-American Cultural Center to name a few. There were also street fairs and art fairs aplenty. It was really important to her for me to embrace other cultures and heritages."

As Rejeanne spoke‚ Lindsay found herself noticing her coffee companion’s hands.

"Sometimes bad shit happened. Our place got broken into once. One year‚ someone stole the cassette player out of Mom’s car. I’ve seen a few drug busts go down. But I never saw all those stereotypically horrible things one hears about Detroit. Our neighbors were really tight-knit and looked after one another. The dude that ‘B-and-E’d’ our house was caught by one of our neighbors who was a burly off-duty firefighter. So‚ overall‚ I really loved living there."

Lindsay was specifically observing the elaborate ring on Rejeanne’s left thumb.

"My best friend as a kid was this girl named Shanita Weams.  I called her ‘Neeta’ and she called me ‘Jeannie P.’ She loved to braid my hair and play jacks.  She lived with her grandma‚ Mrs. Turner because her mom had a nasty drug habit.  I loved Mrs. Turner’s sweet potato pie.  I loved Mrs. Turner.  What a genuine woman.  She was always telling me to hold my head high.  'Don't let nobody cut you down‚ child‚' she'd say.  She commanded respect and told me to always do the same."

"It sounds like you had a very adventurous childhood‚ Rejeanne." Lindsay said. "Did you stay in Detroit through high school or college?"

"No‚" Rejeanne replied. "After med school‚ which Mom managed to do in four years I might add‚ and her residency in Detroit‚ she was really missing Wisconsin. So we came back when I was twelve. She returned to Madison and is practicing internal medicine now. That’s where I went to junior high and high school."

"Did you go to the University of Wisconsin there?" Lindsay asked‚ impressed with just how proud Rejeanne was of her mother’s accomplishments.

"No‚" Rejeanne replied. "I was totally bored with Madison. Too hippy white‚ I suppose. I did a year at Mom’s alma mater and then transferred to DePaul in Chicago. How I ended up here in Dell Valley is still beyond me." Rejeanne looked at her hands.

Lindsay was looking at them again as well. "Rejeanne‚ do you play any sports?" For reasons unknown to her‚ Lindsay needed to ask that question.

Rejeanne’s eyebrows rose. "A couple. Why?"

"I dunno‚" Lindsay replied honestly. "Just asking."

A tense silence fell upon both women that was quickly broken by the waitress. "Have you two decided on lunch yet?"

Lindsay found the waitress’ tone rather rude until she looked at her watch. "Wow‚ we’ve been here for over two hours‚" she announced to Rejeanne.

"I guess that time really does fly when you’re having fun‚" Rejeanne said to Lindsay before turning her attention to the waitress. "Well‚ shoot‚ I guess we should dilute all of this tea and latte in our respective bellies."

Both women decided on bagel sandwiches and salads for their lunch. While they ate‚ the conversation was reduced to small talk about the weather and current events. However‚ after wiping the last remnants of mayonnaise off her mouth‚ Lindsay was eager to return to the topic of Rejeanne. She wanted to learn more about this young reporter who was captivating her.

"Tell me‚ Rejeanne‚ are you an only child?" she asked.

"Not really‚" Rejeanne answered.  "Mom eventually remarried but never had any more kids. Dad‚ on the other hand‚ remarried three times after he and Mom divorced.  I have two half brothers from the second marriage‚ Devin and Haley‚ and a half sister from the third‚ Chelsea.  Dad wasn't married long enough to wife number four to knock her up‚ but he has another son‚ Chase‚ by this chick that he was seeing on the side from wife number three."

"Your dad sounds like a busy man."

"Yeah‚ busy avoiding child support payments."

Both women laughed together for the first time. Lindsay was instantly struck with an inexplicable urge to hold Rejeanne’s pretty little hands that were busy crumpling a napkin.

"Are you close to any of your half siblings?" she asked in a desperate attempt to take her mind away from Rejeanne’s tempting hands.

"I’m actually closer to my step-dad’s daughter‚ Kira‚ from his first marriage. But I get along well with Devin and Haley."

Rejeanne found herself eyeing Lindsay’s lips and thinking how soft they must be. "How about you‚ Lindsay‚" she said‚ breaking her private reverie‚ "are you close to anyone?"

Lindsay leaned in closer to Rejeanne. "To be honest‚ I’ve never really had any close ‘girlfriends.’"

Rejeanne had to quickly define in her mind Lindsay’s interpretation of that word.

"No one to braid my hair or play jacks with‚" she continued. "I do have this cousin‚ however. His name is Keith. He lives in a loft in So-Ho. He’s my closest friend. He’s gay."

Lindsay thought about why she had to reveal that last bit of information until Rejeanne’s next comment nearly floored her.

"What a coincidence. I’m gay too."

When Lindsay didn’t react‚ Rejeanne became nervous but for only a moment. That old investigative reporter in her resurfaced. "I have a question for you‚ Lindsay."

Lindsay’s eyebrows rose and her stomach tightened. "Shouldn’t your husband Martin be your closest friend rather than your cousin Keith?" Rejeanne asked.

Lindsay didn’t respond‚ causing Rejeanne to feel as if her long interview-cum-brunch was going south really fast. "I guess that I’ve taken up enough of your time‚" she said as she flagged the waitress for the bill. "I didn’t mean to pry."

When the waitress approached‚ Lindsay reached over to grab the check. Rejeanne grabbed Lindsay’s hand. "I’ll get this‚" she said to Lindsay.

Her hand is so soft‚ Lindsay thought. "No‚ I should get it. I’m the filthy rich one‚ remember?" she said.

"Like this bill’s gonna break me‚" Rejeanne said with a smile. "I inconvenienced you. I should pay."

"It wasn’t an inconvenience. I... I really enjoyed this."

"I’m pleased‚ Lindsay‚" Rejeanne said. "The article that I write will do this interview justice‚ I promise."

When the waitress returned with Rejeanne’s change‚ both women stood and were able to get a full close up view of the other. While both timidly smiled‚ Rejeanne and Lindsay helped each other with their coats. "Thank you for the interview‚ Lindsay‚" Rejeanne said as she put on her gloves. "And sorry about rambling on so long."

"No‚ I thoroughly enjoyed talking with you. And please call me Lin."

"Groovy‚ Lin‚" Rejeanne said as she boldly chuckled. "My close friends call me Jeannie. You can call me Jeannie‚" she added as she lightheartedly nudged Lindsay’s shoulder.

Lindsay smiled from ear to ear. "Thank you for a most invigorating brunch‚ Jeannie."

As Rejeanne turned to exit the coffeehouse‚ Lindsay gently grabbed her arm. "Can I‚ uh‚ can I maybe call you... to see how the article is coming along?" she asked.

"I’d like that‚ Lin."

[faveficarchive]

AFTER AMPHIPOLIS

by Charmer

Disclaimer: Xena:Warrior Princess is a trademark of Renaissance Pictures.

This story contains violence and a bit of strong language. It is set immediately after Amphipolis Under Siege and therefore contains spoilers.

© March 2000 Charmer

A serpent uncoiled its green and gold-flecked body from a cedar tree and slid silently to the ground. It moved through the soft grass with its head held high above the morning dew, tasting the dawn on a darting tongue as it neared the sleeping child.

'Eve,' said the serpent. Her voice was smooth and intoxicating like potent wine. 'Wake up now, Eve. I've brought you the fruit of vengeance.'

The baby woke and gurgled at the familiar face beside her. Hope's eyes gleamed green and gold as she lay next to the warm furs and gently pressed a ripe apple against the child's small tongue.

Eve tasted the apple's poison and died.

And Xena woke, shaking with silent fear and groping for the window's heavy shutters to let in the moonlight. Silver spilled into the room and revealed Eve asleep beside her, gently breathing and unharmed. Xena's eyes darted to the shadows but there was no intruder lying in wait, so she carefully steadied her breath, wiped clammy sweat from her face, and lowered her head to the pillow again.

A few moments passed in the quiet night, then Xena turned to her other side. Gabrielle lay sleeping next to her, undisturbed, her hair as pale as platinum in the moonlight.

And Xena wondered how the real Hope could look so like her mother.The dream had shaken Xena more than she cared to admit, and she kept Eve close while Gabrielle completed most of the chores as they prepared to leave Amphipolis. The settlement was subdued this morning. Fires had been lit the night before as villagers toasted their victory with ale, and now the smoke hung above the houses, grey and acrid in the still air. There was no wind to carry away the smell of blood from the makeshift mortuary in the stables behind the inn.

'Don't let them get drunk,' Xena had told Gabrielle after the battle. 'I don't think Athena will be back soon, but I'm taking no chances.' Later Xena realised how easily she'd slipped into her warlord routine. Without asking she'd made Gabrielle her lieutenant and responsible for camp discipline.

No one got drunk and everyone was awake early, though far from bright. Xena decided that rather than dismantle the defences the villagers should repair and fortify. They had not defeated Athena, merely postponed the war. And with or without Eve's presence in Amphipolis, some of Athena's cohorts could return to exact revenge. Her elite archers had watched their commander fall to Xena's sword.

Besides, Xena knew how important it was to give people directed activity after a fight. She didn't want simple villagers brooding on their losses, so she was pleased to hear industrious noises coming from the smithy. The clang of a hammer and the blacksmith's breathless voice carried far beyond the furnace as he urged his apprentice to pump faster on the bellows.

Xena said nothing about her dream but her mother was no fool. Cyrene gave Gabrielle a stack of dried meat and smoked cheeses to pack, then cornered Xena by the well and asked her why she was so troubled.

'The gods want my daughter dead,' said Xena. 'What more do you think?'

'Don't get smart with me, Xena. People I've known for years lie dead or wounded. My good friend Daphne took an arrow in the heart, and the miller can't grow another hand to replace the one he lost yesterday.'

Xena rested the full bucket on the side of the well and lowered her head. 'I'm sorry.'

Cyrene softened her tone. 'We fought willingly. And last night you told us we'd won. So what's happened?'

So Xena told her about the dream; and when Cyrene questioned her further about Hope, Xena gave her those details too.

'I thought we might hide from Athena in the Bacchae forests,' Xena finished. 'Bacchus is no threat now and the gods shun his realm. But if Hope is after Eve she may have developed the power to strike through the spirit world, and then no earthly place is safe.'

Cyrene was angry but she bit her tongue. Another child's life was at stake now.

'What does Gabrielle think?' she asked.

'I haven't told her. I can't. Hope's name has not passed between us for a long time.'

'That may be the problem,' said Cyrene.

'What do you mean?'

'I mean perhaps there's nothing real to fear. You say that Hope is dead, so perhaps you only suffered this nightmare because you're feeling guilty.'

Xena met her mother's gaze in surprise. 'Guilty about what?'

'Don't pretend, Xena. We both know what it's like to lose a child, and we both know what we'll do to protect one. I killed my husband to protect you, and you've sacrificed half Amphipolis to protect Eve. So what agony did you put Gabrielle through when you tried to kill her baby?'

'Mother, you don't understand. Hope wasn't mortal.'

'Is Eve?'

Xena started to reply but Cyrene raised her hand in protest. 'Don't say it, Xena. Let me believe I have a normal grandchild, please. But answer me this: if Athena is wrong to kill a child because she threatens what she holds dear, how could you be right to kill a child for the same cause?'

Xena hesitated, then her eyes focused far away. 'I just was.'

'Then I'm sure you'll just be right again, whatever you decide,' said Cyrene, her voice devoid of emotion.

And she left to cut shrouds for the dead.They were ready to leave well before noon and Xena made sure their goodbyes were kept short. She wanted to be far from Amphipolis as soon as possible so they would be harder to track. Gabrielle helped Xena to put on Eve's sling and the two women led their horses through the battle-churned earth and defences.

Before they reached the outer palisade an old woman crossed their path, limping slightly with each left step. Her clothes were a patchwork of cross-stitch mending and hung awkwardly on her skinny frame, like weather-worn bunting which has been left out after a festival too long.

'Xena!' The old woman announced the name in a broken voice. 'I have a charm for your child.'

Xena sighed and slowed to a halt. 'Pegleg,' she acknowledged.

'That's Pegassa!' The old woman scowled. 'You always were an insolent whelp.'

Xena said nothing and waited for Pegassa to have her say. The old villager retrieved something from beneath her crooked, multi-textured robes and held out her hand.

'There. Take!'

Xena made no move to accept. 'What is it, Pegassa?'

Pegassa made an impatient noise in her old throat. 'I told you. A charm for your child. It will protect her.' She shook her mottled fist and produced a rattling sound.

'A charm won't keep the gods at bay,' said Xena.

Pegassa snorted. 'Did I say it would? Damn, Xena, you never did listen. What did I tell you about piracy being a game for fools?' The woman shuffled closer and opened her fist to reveal a pair of bracelets, one smaller than the other. 'You wear this and the baby wears its mate. The charm works just the once, no more.'

Xena peered at the bracelets, then gave Pegassa a dubious look.

'Finger bones?'

'That's right.' Pegassa held up the larger bracelet. The tiny human bones had been bleached, drilled and threaded onto strong sinew. She pointed at the longest bone in the circlet. 'In a moment of peril, when you can not reach your child, snap this bone and she will be saved.'

Xena resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She had no desire to wear the grisly talisman, nor place one on her daughter's arm. Pegassa sensed her scornful reaction and her eyes flashed. They were remarkably clear eyes for such a wizened face. Better condition than her teeth, Xena thought.

'It will work!' Pegassa shook the bones again. 'I spent the night making this magic, Xena. Give me another night and I could work a spell to turn your liver to cheese if I chose. Did I not make you pay for scrawling filth on my wall when you were six?'

Xena heard a muffled chuckle beside her and turned to see Gabrielle grinning at the ground. She flushed at the memory; and indeed, at the time it had seemed that Pegassa possessed formidable powers. Xena had suffered a belly ache for a week. But the following summer she discovered that Pegassa was the only other soul in Amphipolis who knew where Xena hid her hoard of sweets.

The old woman snorted again and held out her gift once more. 'Take the magic, you ungrateful brat!'

Gabrielle intervened. 'Thank you, Pegassa,' she said sincerely, accepting the bracelets from the wildly thrusting hand. 'We appreciate your help.'

Pegassa grunted and limped away without another word, apparently satisfied.

Once beyond the perimeter Xena and Gabrielle mounted their horses and made for the forest road.

'I'm surprised that old skeleton's still breathing,' said Xena. 'She's been ancient as long as I remember.'

Gabrielle smirked. 'Her memory hasn't suffered with the years. She clearly remembers you.'

'She's an old fool.'

'She didn't sound foolish to me. She sounded like she wanted to help.'

Xena gestured towards the bag where Gabrielle had stashed the bracelets. 'Those bones won't help anyone. We're more likely to catch something off them.'

'They're well scrubbed,' said Gabrielle. 'She's obviously spent time on them. You could've pretended to thank her, at least.' She kicked her heels and her horse darted forward.

'Where are you going?'

'I'll scout ahead,' Gabrielle called back, and disappeared round the bend in the road.

Xena sighed and glanced over her shoulder. 'You okay there?' she asked the baby in the sling on her back.

Eve tugged on her mother's long hair and smiled.

'Glad you're still friends with me,' Xena said gently. 'I seem to be rubbing everyone else up the wrong way.''It's not how I remember it,' said Gabrielle. 'It seems more alive.'

They had to lead the horses through the uncertain wooded terrain. Freed from sinister Bacchanalian influences, the murky forest was reverting to fertile woodland. The dull earth and grim trees that had once characterised the god's realm were giving way to thick groves and strong foliage. Most of the trees were not yet dense enough to hide the sky, and evening sunlight scattered onto ground which was thick with moss and seedlings.

'Look!' said Gabrielle, pointing to a brightly lit glade where a fallen elm had left a large area open to the sun. 'Brambles! A pity we're out of season.'

Xena frowned, surprised by the speed of renewal. The undergrowth had spread dense and far in the three years since she and Gabrielle had travelled through these woods. The brambles looked mature enough to provide a heavy abundance of berries come autumn.

She noticed lush vines tangling around nearby tree trunks and immediately became wary. This kind of growth was not natural.

'Dionysus,' she said quietly.

'What?'

'Dionysus has claimed this place. It makes sense, with his Roman rival out of the way.'

Gabrielle studied their surroundings further. 'That's why the plants are growing so well?'

'Yes. His presence encourages the fruit-bearing vegetation.' Xena considered this development. If the god of wine discovered their presence among his trees, would he betray them to Athena? Probably, she decided, but only if Athena happened to ask. Dionysus did not mingle much with his fellow Olympians. He preferred the company of his satyrs.

'Do you think it's safe to stay here?' asked Gabrielle.

'For a while. But we'll have to move on again soon.'

They made camp in a small, level clearing above a spring. The water bubbled up quietly between dark, wet rocks before disappearing underground again, and the well-watered earth fed nearby sycamores whose canopy was dense enough to protect them from a light shower of rain. Not that light showers had been the norm recently, Xena thought with a grim expression. Storms and tornadoes had been their lot, thanks to the angry gods.

Xena prepared a secure bed for Eve in a netted swing under a low branch, so that she would be safe from small nocturnal creatures that hunted the forest floor. They could defend themselves from any larger, braver predators as they had always done, with flailing torches and Xena's whip.

Gabrielle filled their skins from the spring and foraged for edible roots to supplement their rations. They were not short of food - Cyrene had made sure their saddlebags were filled to bursting with everything dried, smoked and salted that her larder could provide. But it always paid to supplement and spin out such a diet with the fresh fruits of the land.

Gabrielle returned with half a dozen fat tubers. 'You going to hunt?' she asked.

'Not today.'

Since the nightmare Xena wanted to keep Eve nearby, and the baby made too much noise to make stalking prey practical while carrying her, even if she slept. Xena had thought Gabrielle a noisy sleeper, until she learned what sniffles and squeaks a baby made night after night.

Gabrielle shrugged. 'Okay. Salty pork it is then.' She dropped the tubers onto a sack by the spring ready for washing and then hesitated, her eyes on Xena. The warrior was crouched over one of their packs, absorbed with something inside. 'You going to start the fire or shall I?' Gabrielle asked her carefully.

Xena said nothing, so Gabrielle continued. 'Shall I collect the wood too?'

'I'll get the wood, you start the fire,' Xena said curtly. 'And bury these.' She pulled Pegassa's bracelets out of the pack and tossed them in Gabrielle's direction. Gabrielle caught the little bones and frowned.

'Xena, why don't you just put them on? They can't do any harm and it's bad luck to spurn well-intentioned gifts, besides just plain rude.'

'You don't seriously think those bits of rubbish will help us, do you?'

'I just don't think we should look a gift horse in the mouth, Xena. With all these supernatural forces ranged against us we could use a little on our side.'

Xena stood up and began kicking at stones, ostensibly to clear their sleeping space but with more ferocity than was needed.

'Don't bury them, then. Do what you like. But start the fire or we'll be blundering about in the dark, charm or no charm.' She strode to the edge of the small clearing and began to gather dead sticks for fuel. She heard Gabrielle sigh and glanced back to see the bard tucking the charms inside her clothes and digging out the tinderbox.

Xena rebuked herself as she gathered the firewood. I shouldn't have been so short with her. She knew that she was allowing the dream to get the better of her and she was angry with herself for it. If Hope or some other malevolent force were behind the nightmare, she was playing right into the enemy's hands. The one thing she could not afford to do was distance herself from those who wanted to help. She'd let her temper and her greed do that too often in the past. Cyane, Borias, Lao Ma - they had held out the hand of friendship... even love. But she had spurned everything they had to offer because of her pride and ambition.

Now Gabrielle was all they could have been and more. Xena glanced across the clearing again to see Gabrielle on her knees, nurturing a tiny flame with a sprinkle of tinder and a breath of warm air. Eve was watching from her perch in the tree, following the blonde figure's every movement.

Xena bent to her task again. Her mother was probably right. She'd had the dream because she was angry with herself. And I must not let it come between us. She noticed some fallen twigs of holly with dry, curled up leaves. Those would burn fast with noisy crackles and bright flames, so she picked them up carefully to avoid their spikes and smiled as she anticipated Eve's delight. By now she had all the reasonably dry sticks she could tuck comfortably under her arm, so she turned back to the camp.

And her eyes widened in horror. Hope was standing next to Eve, offering her an apple.

'No!' Xena screamed and dashed towards them, scattering holly and firewood as she reached behind her for her sword. Gabrielle started in shock and spun round, readying the knife in her hand for whatever threat had caused Xena's alarm. The half-peeled apple tumbled to the ground.

Xena skidded to a halt mere feet away. Gabrielle.

'What is it?' Gabrielle asked urgently. She looked about quickly, expecting to see danger lurking behind the tree, but there was nothing. She turned back to Xena. 'What?'

It's Gabrielle.

Xena felt like a block of ice. How could she have thought it was Hope? What was wrong with her? She just stared, her mouth open but silent. Gabrielle's fear began to give way to impatience as she got no response to her anxious questions. 'Xena?'

'I thought...' Xena started to reply and quickly stopped herself. There was no way she could tell Gabrielle what she had thought. She began again awkwardly. 'Don't give her an apple. She's too young.'

Xena saw Gabrielle's eyes shift and realised that the bard had noticed Xena's fist grasping the hilt of her sword behind her shoulder. She dropped her hand quickly. Gabrielle's expression grew confused and troubled, and Xena's throat suddenly felt dry. 'Sorry,' she added weakly.

Gabrielle stared at her. 'I know she's too young. I was peeling it to stew it for her.'

Xena heard the wariness in Gabrielle's tone and tried to deflect it with a feeble excuse. 'I couldn't see properly, that's all.' She cringed inside as she realised how unconvincing her explanation sounded.

Gabrielle did not disappoint. She flicked the knife away so that it landed point down in the soft earth and stood her ground. 'Okay, Xena, I've had enough. You've been ill-tempered since we woke up this morning, not just with me but with everyone. In fact you've been downright contemptuous at times. And now I'm expected to believe you had a fit over an apple? What's going on?'

It was exactly what Xena had feared. How could she tell Gabrielle that she had mistaken her for an assassin? Since Xena had announced her supernatural pregnancy, Gabrielle had given her total trust and support. The bard had been the most attentive companion and the most protective parent imaginable, repeatedly risking her own life on their behalf. She fought Alti in the spirit world and almost died. She delivered the baby while Zeus' thunderbolts crashed around their ears. She led the charge against the gods themselves to defend Xena's child. How could Xena repay her with such suspicion now?

A memory surfaced as Xena looked at Gabrielle. She saw her running through another wood two years ago, wrapped in a grey cloak and hood. The younger Gabrielle was dodging flames and darting behind scorched trees for cover, acting the part of a frightened child to draw Callisto's murderous fire.

And how had Xena repaid her courage when Solan died?

No, Xena could not bring herself to tell Gabrielle about Hope. Not the dreamscape Hope who poisoned Eve and looked more like her mother than ever. Besides, they did not speak her name. Xena had almost convinced herself that it was to spare Gabrielle's feelings, but deep down she knew it was because Gabrielle's loyalty now shamed her beyond compare.

So Xena sank onto a fallen trunk and feigned tiredness. In truth she didn't have to feign hard.

'Okay, I know. I'm way too edgy. I guess I haven't wound down from the battle, and I'm seeing things that aren't there.'

'What sort of things?'

'Stupid things. I lost my perspective for a moment, that's all.' She hoped it was a plausible lie, since it wasn't that far from the truth.

Gabrielle's brief anger melted into concern. 'You've had no chance to relax,' she acknowledged. 'A mother needs time for both herself and her baby, but we've been running and fighting from the moment Eve was born.'

'Not much choice there,' Xena said with a sigh, relieved at Gabrielle's willing rationale. 'Our only chance of staying a step ahead of the gods is to keep moving.'

'But you need to take some time for yourself,' said Gabrielle. 'Even if it's just simple things, like a walk at sunset or an extra long bath.'

Xena forced a wry smile. 'You didn't happen to catch sight of a tub or a hot spring during the last mile?'

Gabrielle returned the smile. 'Go hunting, Xena. That always helps you loosen up.'

Xena's smile faded at the thought of being apart from Eve, but Gabrielle saw her reluctance and launched a pre-emptive strike. 'Xena, go. You can't protect Eve properly if you're jumping at shadows. Run off for a while, and bring back something tasty while you're at it.'

Xena couldn't fault Gabrielle's logic, and now she had little doubt that her mind was playing tricks on her. A swift hunt and a clean kill might be the remedy for her present distraction. Perhaps this was the best way to ensure Eve's protection after all.

When she still hesitated Gabrielle pulled out Pegassa's bracelets and, before Xena could object, slipped the smaller one onto Eve's arm. She held the other out to Xena.

'To keep you in touch,' she said.

Xena narrowed her eyes at Gabrielle over the bracelet, then sighed noisily and took it from her. It would not hurt to placate the bard given what had just happened. 'Oh all right.' She pulled it over her wrist, and yelped. 'Ow!'

Gabrielle raised her eyebrows.

Xena glared at the small bones circling her forearm. Then she peered at them closer and fingered the longest bone of the bracelet, discovering that one side was ground to an edge along its length and honed like a small blade.

'That crafty old hag...'

'What is it?' asked Gabrielle.

'It's sharp.'

Xena stood up quickly and went to examine the bracelet that Eve was wearing. To her relief all those tiny bones were polished smooth, and indeed Eve was looking at them with quiet interest.

'Perhaps Pegassa shaped it to make it easier to snap,' said Gabrielle, catching Xena's arm to study the bone in question. It was a sturdy piece of human knucklebone, but keen enough on one side to draw blood if used precisely. 'This is the one you have to break in an emergency, right?'

'Yeah, but she didn't have to make it sharp.'

Gabrielle chuckled at the petulance in Xena's voice. 'That's the sting in the tail, then, isn't it? The barb that makes the magic good, like the exception that proves the rule. Now we know it will work if we need it.'

Xena strongly doubted Gabrielle's logic this time, suspecting Pegassa's motive to be measured revenge for the times when a young Xena had made mischief at the old woman's expense. She slipped the bracelet off again and tucked it securely into the top of her boot where it wouldn't chafe. Gabrielle seemed content with the compromise.

Xena removed her scabbard and armour to lighten her load and afford herself better camouflage for hunting. 'I saw wood pigeons earlier,' she said. 'How about a half dozen?'

Gabrielle demurred. 'I saw pheasant. How about a couple?'

'Better build some good hot embers, then,' Xena advised. She grasped her chakram. 'I won't be long.'The hunt did Xena good, just as Gabrielle predicted. She tracked down the birds in the undergrowth, found a clear line of sight, and took out a couple of plump, unsuspecting specimens with two perfect throws of her chakram. She spent a few extra minutes plucking and gutting the kill away from camp, clawing the quills from taut skin and digging out the lights with bloodied, expert hands. She left the heads, feet and offal on a large rock for the scavengers to enjoy and headed back with a fine brace of pheasants and a new spring in her step.

The birds cooked thoroughly over Gabrielle's hot low fire and both women ate more than their stomachs needed to be full. Afterwards they reclined against the base of their tree with their feet pointing at the crackling flames and Eve swinging gently between them, waiting for darkness to claim the long day.

'Feeling better?' asked Gabrielle as she gave the baby a gentle push.

'Yes. And stuffed.'

'Good. Two birds with one stone, then.'

'Chakram,' said Xena.

'Huh?'

'Chakram. Two birds with one chakram.'

Gabrielle glanced upwards. The leaves merged with the dusky sky in the fading light, giving the impression of a dark textured blanket high above their heads. 'Yeah, you're feeling better.'

'We'll leave the day after tomorrow,' Xena decided.

'So soon?'

'Yes. We should keep moving, perhaps go north. The farther we get from Greece, the weaker the gods' power to harm us.'

'There are gods everywhere,' noted Gabrielle, 'and the Asgard are powerful in the north.'

Xena raised her brow at Gabrielle. 'What do you know about them?'

'Everything. I'm a bard. We talk and listen. Hercules has met them and I got him to tell me everything he knows.'

'Did he tell you whether they also regard Eve as a threat?'

Gabrielle frowned. 'He said they don't, but they do have a doom prophecy. They call it Ragnarok, and it doesn't just mean the death of the gods, it means the end of the whole world. And they seem to think it's a long way off.'

Xena dug an errant piece of pheasant from her teeth with a fingernail. 'It doesn't sound like the Twilight, then. But we'll have to be careful wherever we go. The different pantheons prefer to keep out of each other's business, but the Olympians will think this big enough a deal to bargain for their co-operation.'

'Do the Olympians have anything to offer them?'

Xena shrugged. 'Good point. But you'll do just about anything if you think you're fighting for your existence.'

'Or for your child's,' said Gabrielle. The fire cast flickering shadows across her face, and Xena could not guess whether she was talking about the warrior or herself.Gabrielle had prepared pitch torches while Xena was hunting and they placed them near the fire for easy lighting if needed, protecting them from stray sparks by a covering of worn leather. The fire itself died to a few glowing logs that spat periodically, and the various calls of the nocturnal forest grew around them as night settled in. Gabrielle lay down close to Xena's warmth, murmured the soft, weary goodnight of someone who has been on the go for days and is full of a hot supper, and fell asleep immediately. Xena listened as the bard's and the baby's breathing slipped into a soothing, complementary rhythm and then lay back herself. Yet despite her tiredness she did not fall asleep. The forest's darkness reminded her of the darkness of their room at the inn, before she opened the shutter in the middle of the night to banish her nightmare's fears with moonlight.

There was a moon tonight too, but its pale light filtered sparsely through the branches and gave little comfort. Xena shook herself under the furs, annoyed that she could let herself be scared of the dark. She had never been afraid of the dark, even as a young child. Not even when the miller caught her teaching his small sons to put spiders in the flour sacks, and locked her in his cellar with the spiders to punish her.

Xena remembered that the miller had died of pneumonia during a bad winter some years later. The elder son had taken over the mill and lost a hand fighting for Xena yesterday. The younger had followed Xena into piracy and finished his days on Caesar's cross. Now Xena wondered what the old miller thought of her from his grave.

I'm dangerous to be around. She closed her eyes and tried to coax sleep. Is Eve in danger because of who she is, or because she is her mother's child?

A twig creaked and Xena's eyes shot open. She did not sit up, preferring to let the intruder think she had not heard. It had been a very faint sound, the kind that most humans would not have detected even had they been awake, and Gabrielle did not stir beside her. But Xena knew the noise was made by no small woodland animal but by something heavy, like a man. Something heavy and very, very stealthy.

She reached out with her senses, beyond the gentle breathing of her companions, beyond the near-inaudible hiss of a damp lump of wood in the fire, to the edges of the clearing and the skilled threat that approached. Whoever he was he was good, Xena concluded. Apart from that one tiny noise the intruder made no sound in the forest litter. She found the grip of her sword at her side and let her muscles relax, readying herself for speed and action. She wore no armour under the furs, but in these dangerous days she slept with her boots on and her sword at the ready by her hip.

An owl hooted close by. Xena tuned out the natural voices of the forest and focused on her worthy adversary. She counted quick but silent footsteps in her head and placed him halfway between the fire and the tree cover now. He was holding his breath as he approached, probably with his weapon arm raised so that she would not hear the soft sounds of garments moving as he lifted it for the killing blow.

Xena did not wait for it. She leapt up when she judged him near enough and struck out with her sword.

She missed. The blade sliced the night air to find nothing in its path, and before Xena could remedy her mistake something charged her shoulder and sent her spinning to the ground. It was not a man, she realised as she rolled back up onto her feet. It was only part man, and there was more than one of them. She had underestimated the half-animal cunning of her numerous assailants, forgetting that creatures of such natural intelligence and intuitive stealth could also exist.

She could smell them now too; mingling scents of moss and bark, and the sourness of sweat that is neither animal nor human but a fusion of both. Until now they had made sure to keep down wind of what little breeze there was.

She shouted a warning to Gabrielle and spun her sword in a defensive pattern. Gabrielle was on her feet in an instant, the sleep draining rapidly from her eyes as she took up a defensive position next to Eve. Those eyes widened in shock as she saw red firelight flashing from Xena's blade onto the bright-eyed faces in their midst. Dark haired men with horns, bare chests and goat-like flanks grinned at the women menacingly.

'Satyrs!' Xena hissed.

'What do they want?'

Xena did not like to speculate. There were at least twelve dark shapes surrounding them, more than enough to give her a formidable challenge. At worst, Dionysus was already on to their presence in his forest and had sent a few choice warriors to kill or capture them. At best, some of his nymph-chasers had come looking for a night's carnal sport with humans for a change.

One of the satyrs engaged Xena's sword with a crooked stave. She disarmed him with a twisting stroke and kicked him onto his back, but not before another had almost tripped her with a hazel branch, and a third threw a rock which hit her forearm hard enough to make her drop her sword. She snatched it up again with her left hand and parried with that until her right regained its grip.

She risked a glance at Gabrielle and saw the bard holding her own against a burly satyr who wielded a wooden club. Their attackers were armed with the most rustic of weapons and that suggested that their assault was neither pre-planned nor inspired by gods. None of them showed any interest in harming the baby, at least.

But they were interested in other things. As Xena fended off two more who attacked again with staves she caught sight of other bulky shadows rummaging through the camp site.

'The packs, Gabrielle! They're stealing our gear!'

Their food stores in particular, she realised. Damn the greedy thieving curs, they must have smelled it and come to get a free feast. Four unarmed satyrs hoisted the packs onto their muscular shoulders and scattered in different directions, shouting gleefully at their comrades to disengage and run.

Xena knew she'd been had and snarled in anger. She gave chase to the nearest fleeing thief, determined to teach the goat-breed a deadly lesson and rescue at least some of their supplies. He disappeared into the trees and she plunged in after him with a blood curdling yell.

It was darker still amongst the thicker branches but Xena could hear the satyr ahead. He was burdened and running as fast as he could, unconcerned by the noise he made. Xena raced after him, ignoring the twigs that snapped against her face and snared threads from her thin tunic, certain that she was gaining on him.

Suddenly the satyr changed direction. She heard him leap to the left and plough through some low vegetation. Xena's lip curled in a triumphant smile as she altered her pursuit. He was trying to throw her but now she was going to cut him off. She ducked as she ran through the undergrowth and caught sight of him dead ahead. The supply pack thudded against his naked back as he jumped over sprawling hawthorn into unseen ground beyond, and Xena leapt quickly after him. She landed on bare earth and sprinted the last few yards between them, until something abruptly caught her ankle and brought her crashing to the ground.

Her foot had caught in a vine, Xena realised as she scrambled up. But before she could get off her knees another tangled around her arm. She yanked at it to free herself, and a third wound around her leg. She wrenched both limbs clear and pulled herself to her feet, but the strong foliage found its way to her other leg and suddenly Xena realised that something was very wrong.

A rope-like vine tumbled from above her head and fastened tightly round her neck. Xena swung her sword high and severed it, but more twisting tendrils snared her arm to prevent her from using the blade effectively. She fought fiercely to escape the rough stems but yet more coiled rapidly about her limbs. Leafy ropes sprang from the earth and spiralled up around her legs, rooting her to the ground.

Xena tried to shout, to send a warning back through the forest that might just reach Gabrielle, but her tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth and all she could manage was a smothered cry. She tore desperately at the invidious vines but as soon as she ripped them off more twined their way along her arms. One wrapped around the hilt of her sword and wrested the weapon from her grasp. Others tightened painfully on the soft flesh above her elbows and dragged them behind her, wrenching her shoulders and pinning her arms. Yet another snaked around her neck and pulled taut above her head, throttling her with its coarse grip until her lungs began to burn for air.

She struggled mightily as patches of darkness tunnelled her vision, but the living bonds were stronger than any rope of mortal design and she could find no leverage against their unnatural power. Through failing eyes Xena saw a silent figure wander into view, robed and hooded in the pale moonlight. The figure came to a halt and watched the warrior desperately fighting for her life. Eventually it spoke.

'My father was right. Turning your guilt against you is fun, but exploiting your anger brings the best rewards.'

Cruel words of thanks haunted Xena from Britannia. Dahak appreciates rage.

The figure watched until Xena's eyes started to glaze and her balance faltered, then suddenly it pushed back the hood and smiled. The noose relaxed and Xena gulped down precious air.

'Hope,' she rasped.The satyrs had brought the torches from the camp and lit them in a meagre circle around the captured warrior. Their flames revealed a dry earth grove of oak and thick ivy, sheltered from above by gnarled branches and obscured from the rest of the forest by dense undergrowth. It was quiet and still, seemingly devoid of woodland creatures. Nature had built herself a living temple to seclusion.

Hope addressed the assembled satyrs. 'Back to your master, boys, before he notices you're missing.'

The satyrs leered at Xena and filed out through the trees.

'Leave that for me, though,' Hope called after the last one, indicating the wooden cudgel in his brawny hand. The satyr tossed the cudgel on the ground and followed his comrades into the night.

'Obliging, aren't they?' said Hope. There was no mistaking the quiet triumph in her voice.

'You sent the dream,' said Xena, flexing her muscles vainly against the vines. She guessed that Hope's telekinetic powers were responsible for their unnatural grasp.

'No. That was yours. But I felt it, Xena.' She advanced and the torchlight shone on her braided hair, giving the impression of twisted bronze. The flames flickered in her eyes and turned her robe to the colour of rust. 'It was so nice of you to think of me after all this time.'

The dead can hear our thoughts.

'And a dream like that...' Hope gave a low whistle. 'You've thought of little else. All that delicious turmoil and aching guilt.' She licked her lips as though savouring a rich meal. 'It gives a soul such power.'

Xena's mind worked rapidly. If Hope had tapped Xena's guilt to cross over from the other side, there would likely be a limit to her movements in the world of the living. In any case she would not be able to hold Xena captive in the vines forever. Her influence was bound to weaken over time.

'What do you want?' Xena said through gritted teeth.

Hope sneered. 'Tall, Dark and Duh. Revenge, of course.' And with that Hope lashed out with her boot, planting a powerful kick in Xena's midriff.

Xena would have doubled over in pain but the noose held her mercilessly upright. She retched and tasted bile at the back of her throat. Hope smiled with satisfaction as her captive groaned miserably, then walked behind her out of sight.

'Did you bring me anything nice to play with?' she asked. She reappeared a moment later with Xena's sword. She held it up to admire it, stroking her thumb cautiously along its keen edge. 'This isn't bad. I could slice you inch by inch...' She pointed the blade at Xena's toes, '... starting there and working my way up.'

Xena found her voice as she got her wind back. 'Gone to a lot of trouble for a bit of blood-letting, haven't you? How'd you win over the satyrs? A dozen blow-jobs?'

Hope laughed. It was a laugh disconcertingly similar to Gabrielle's. 'I didn't lure you here to ask questions, Xena. Not even to answer them. You're here to suffer. And don't think Gabrielle will be coming to help, either. She'll spend the night sleeping off a juicy cocktail those boys poured down her throat.'

Xena cursed herself for her rashness in abandoning the camp. They could have managed without the supplies somehow, but the satyrs' trickery had played her for a fool and got the better of her temper. It was a classic double ploy to lead her into an ambush - a simple ruse to hide the darker ruse within.

'Don't worry, Xena, I didn't let them lay a finger on mother. I don't abuse my kith and kin.'

But what about Eve? Hope had to know of her existence, and now the baby was defenceless.

The smoke from the torches was starting to build up in the sheltered grove. It hung grey and orange beneath the shadowy oak leaves, glowing with the fire light and shifting with the heated air. Hope inhaled deeply through her nose. Clearly she was enjoying the successful execution of her scheme and planned to savour it at her leisure.

'I love the taste of ritual fire,' she said. 'I learnt the potency of places like this during my time in Britannia. Nice little island, brimming with shamans. They know how to use the forest to focus their power.'

So that explained the lure and the ambush. Hope was drawing on the oak grove's spiritual potency for strength. Xena's thoughts raced; if she could somehow force Hope beyond its margins she might break free. Her arms were starting to cramp and she strained against the tight vines, seeking some leeway and relief.

Hope observed her futile struggle and smiled slowly. She pressed the point of the sword against Xena's sternum, piercing the linen tunic so that Xena could feel its cold sharpness against her skin.

'Of course the Romans are busy wiping them out,' she went on. 'Power doesn't come with sacrifice and prayers, it comes with the sword. You taught me that lesson, Xena.' She snatched upwards and the blade ripped Xena's tunic to the collar, causing a snapping sound as it broke through the stitches where the fabric was hemmed. Xena jerked her head back as the dangerous blade whipped up in front of her face.

Hope chuckled and Xena glared at her with a defiance she did not feel. Her own torment and death she could face, but she could not dare believe that Hope would ignore Eve. Her enemy already knew that to kill Xena's child would drive her insane.

But Hope did not appear to be in any hurry. She planted the sword upright in the ground, well out of Xena's reach, and stepped up close behind her. She seized a fistful of Xena's hair and pulled cruelly, forcing Xena's head back so that she could whisper viciously across her ear.

'So tell me, warrior, do you still beat my mother for the sin of spawning me, or are you content to make her warm your bed and help you raise your spawn instead?'

Xena's heart missed a beat as her worst fears grew. There was such bitterness and hatred in Hope's voice. She clenched her jaw against the pain in her scalp and kept her tone level.

'I don't force Gabrielle to do anything.'

'Of course not!' Hope spat with heavy sarcasm. She twisted Xena's hair savagely and the warrior grimaced. 'And we're to believe she abandoned me to the elements of her own free will?' She flung Xena's head from her grasp angrily. 'Well now you're going to pay...'

Xena heard Hope retrieve the cudgel behind her and braced herself for the inevitable blow. It came where she did not expect it, hard against the back of her ankle. Even through her leather boot the pain it caused was severe. Hope struck again on the other ankle and Xena gasped, unable to defend herself against the brutal blows. Hope struck repeatedly, hammering Xena's calves until she thought the bones would break.

Through the building agony Xena recognised the technique. She had used it herself - beat a prisoner's lower legs mercilessly until they can not stand and information will soon be forthcoming. Only Hope was not after information, and the noose around Xena's neck could prolong the torture to the point of death.

But just as Xena thought her shaking legs would give way and she would collapse against the choking vine, the beating stopped. Her tormentor stepped around to face her.

'I promised Darfus I'd do that,' said Hope with a pitiless smirk. 'He told me it was one of your favourites. He said his days in Tartarus will pass the sweeter knowing you endured it before you died.'

All Xena wanted to do was fall to the dirt and nurse her screaming calf muscles, but she willed her trembling legs to still and forced a scornful reply.

'Taking tips from losers like Darfus? You do surprise me.'

'Oh I also enjoy making plans of my own.' Hope's eyes sparkled. 'For instance, what shall I do with your precious Eve?' She started to pace steadily back and forth, tapping the cudgel against her palm as she feigned deep concentration. 'And which of your crimes shall I set her life against? Let's see, I already punished you for trying to murder me as a baby, and Callisto punished you for murdering her family at the same time...' She paused in front of Xena. 'You got off lightly with our deal, you know - paying for both ruined childhoods with just the one child.'

Xena's blood chilled as the inevitable threat she feared most was finally given voice. 'My son was innocent and you murdered him,' she said tensely. 'Don't pretend that was justice.'

'Justice is merely poetic revenge. He was executed for his mother's crimes against children. You've made that a career, haven't you? Ruining the young and innocent - Callisto, Thelassa, Ming Tien, Otere, me, my son...'

'You weren't innocent. You strangled that knight.'

Hope exploded and backhanded Xena hard across the jaw. Flecks of blood patterned the dry ground.

'He showed me a pretty toy and I played with it! I was hours old, what could I understand of death?'

Xena licked her cut lip gingerly and probed the side of her mouth with her tongue, relieved to find no loose teeth. Hope had inherited her mother's compact strength and vigour, and she was plainly furious.

'Did Hercules understand his power when he strangled the snake in his cradle?' Hope demanded. 'Such a child could have grown into a tyrant, but he had a mother's love to guide him. A human mother, like Gabrielle.'

'You would have killed her too-'

Hope cut her off with an angry snarl and struck her again. This time Xena staggered under the blow so that the vine bit into her throat. She recovered her balance and swallowed hard against the cruel grip, trying to ease the pressure on her windpipe.

'You lie,' Hope said firmly.

Xena struggled to continue, '...the moment she crossed you.'

'Whereas you only tortured her to within an inch of her life. So that was all right.'

Xena did not answer this time. She did not have an answer to that charge. Instead her thoughts travelled back to the painful events in Britannia. Was it possible that with Gabrielle's love and guidance her baby could have grown up good? Xena could not afford to let herself wonder, or it would steal her sanity. Everything would be her fault, including Solan's death. No, she had to hold on to her conviction that the newborn Hope did not deserve a chance.

'Ah...' whispered Hope after a while. 'I know what I'll do. I'll take Eve for the sake of symmetry. You plunged your sword into my son, I'll plunge your sword into your daughter. Then we'll be even and I can rest in peace.'

Hope withdrew to the edge of the torchlit grove and retrieved a water skin. Returning, she removed the seal and poured in a few drops of thick black liquid from a small clay vial. 'A little of my cocktail,' she explained, shaking the skin to mix the powerful sedative. 'To keep you safe while I fetch your child.'

Xena struggled ferociously against the vines but she was helpless. Hope kicked the backs of her legs and her weakened muscles gave way. The noose slackened enough for her to fall to her knees before tightening again, and more vines coiled swiftly around her ankles to hold her down. Hope yanked Xena's head back and pushed the skin against her lips. When Xena resisted she pulled hard on her hair, forcing Xena's jaw open and splashing water into her mouth. Xena spat the first mouthful out but Hope persevered, pouring more and more between Xena's loath lips until some of the sour liquid ran down her throat.

Xena could feel the effects of the drug as soon as Hope let go. She barely found the strength to cough up the water that had got into her lungs. The torches grew hazy around her and her head began to swim. She felt the noose slacken again, just in time for her to topple face down into the dirt.A serpent uncoiled its rust and gold-flecked body from a sycamore tree and slid silently to the ground. It moved through the leaf litter with its head held high above dead twigs, tasting the night on a darting tongue as it neared the sleeping child.

'Eve,' said the serpent. Her voice was smooth and intoxicating like potent wine. 'Come with me, Eve. You're to be my vengeance.'

The baby woke and gurgled at the familiar voice nearby. Hope's eyes gleamed like stars in the darkness as she unwrapped the warm furs and took the baby in her arms.

Gabrielle lay sprawled where the satyrs had pinned her down and drugged her.

And Xena woke, to the bitter taste of dust in her mouth and the terror of a nightmare brought to life.'I like her more than your last one,' said Hope, setting the baby gently on the ground a few feet in front of her kneeling mother. 'Your son was such a whinging brat, not worth a tenth of mine.'

Xena's face betrayed her anguish at the sight of her daughter in Hope's deadly hands, but she knew that pleading would not help Eve. Distracting Hope might buy her time. She snorted with derision.

'That thing you called your son was a lethal monster.'

'Hypocrite,' said Hope. 'How many mothers' sons did you slaughter for power? How many daughters did you butcher for Alti's favour?' Hope looked at the baby and spoke thoughtfully. 'This new mortality has its benefits. I could keep her in place of the son you killed and raise her as my own.'

Xena gritted her teeth at the notion and pulled against the vines with all her strength. The coarse bonds dug into her flesh, restricting the circulation. There had to be a limit to Hope's powers, she reasoned. Her captor had drugged her earlier to ensure Xena's immobility while she was occupied elsewhere. Perhaps she could wear Hope down if she kept up the pressure.

Apparently Hope sensed her struggles. Suddenly the vine circling Xena's neck tightened like a living constrictor, cutting off her air supply. Once more Xena felt the burning sensation in her lungs and pressure building behind her eyes, but she forced herself not to fight it this time, knowing it only encouraged her tormentor. After a few moments the vine slackened enough for her to breathe. She inhaled painfully and focused again.

Hope smiled faintly. 'Did you know, Xena, that some people actually do that for fun?'

'You're doing it for fun,' Xena rasped.

Hope grinned. 'Which hurts worse? The beating or the strangling?'

'Listening to your vile drivel.'

Hope drew back her fist and punched Xena hard on the bridge of her nose. Xena gasped as searing pain shot across her cheekbones and up through her skull. Her eyes watered instantly, and a thin line of blood trickled down one nostril and dripped over her open mouth.

'Are you sure about that?' asked Hope. She reached out and pressed two fingers experimentally against Xena's nose, forcing another harsh grunt from her suffering captive. 'Not broken, so don't complain.'

Xena could hardly speak for the pain anyway. She spat the blood weakly from her lips and endured the throbbing ache that settled behind her eyes.

Hope pulled Xena's sword from the ground and stood beside Eve. The baby was awake, lying on a wolf pelt and waving her small arms at the torches that surrounded them. Hope stooped to look at something on the child's wrist. The grove was full of flickering shadows and she had to peer closely to see it. Then she glanced up at Xena, the corner of her mouth raised in the kind of smile that Xena loved on Gabrielle.

'Human remains? I didn't think that was your style these days.'

Pegassa's bones. Xena's bracelet was still tucked in her boot. If she could reach it now the sharpened bone might cut through the vines...

Xena eased her aching shoulders back and straightened her right arm as much as she could. The vines' grip had almost numbed her limbs and it hurt to flex her hand, but she could just feel her fingertips brushing against the leather top of her boot.

Hope stood erect again and moved to face Xena so that she could watch her enemy's reaction. Eve lay between them, mesmerised by the dancing flames.

'Have you heard of the wisdom of Solomon?' asked Hope.

'No.'

'A Canaanite king. He ordered his guard to sever a baby in half, trusting that the child's true mother would give it up to another rather than watch it die.' She leant with both hands on the sword's hilt and cocked her head. 'But what about you? Would you rather watch Eve die than see me raise her in my image?'

Xena struggled again, letting the sudden movements mask her efforts to reach the bracelet. The tight tendrils bit into her upper arms as she forced them straight and she felt a trickle of blood seep down the inside of her elbow. But two of her fingers crooked inside her boot and located a smooth piece of bone.

Hope laughed at Xena's lack of reply. 'A difficult choice for you too? Both options have their merits.'

Xena snarled at Hope and tugged the bracelet from its lodging. She quickly found the longest bone and squirmed until she could bring its sharpened edge into contact with the vine that imprisoned her arms, ignoring the fierce pain this writhing manoeuvre sent shooting into her shoulders. Behind her back she began to draw the tiny blade back and forth across the taut stem. At first she worried that Hope might perceive her actions but her captor did not seem to notice. The vines shared no sensitivity with the one controlling them - only Xena's brute resistance carried through to Hope's awareness. Emboldened by this rapid reasoning, Xena worked harder and faster.

Hope lifted the sword and waved the point in a circle above Eve's face. The baby looked startled, then suddenly smiled at the shiny blade. She reached up little hands and tried to catch the bright new toy.

'I'm starting to like her,' said Hope. 'Are you sure she's yours?'

'Touch her and I'll use that sword to rip you open from arse to tit!'

Behind the angry outburst Xena cut vigorously, feeling tiny frays of foliage parting under the bone's sharp edge. If she could free her arms she might just tear herself loose fast enough to rush Hope before she could react.

'Subtle as usual,' said Hope, 'but I'll take the risk.' She reaffirmed both hands on the sword's grip and lifted her arms above her head. Xena's chest tightened as the lethal weapon hovered over her defenceless child, its point aimed at the middle of Eve's small body. For one horrifying moment Xena saw herself behind the sword, arms raised and poised to cleave open Gabrielle's infant child.

She sawed furiously at her bonds. Pegassa's bone grew warm with the fierce friction and the vine was almost torn through. Xena clenched her jaw and strove to cut the last remnants that held her captive, already planning the leap that would knock Hope back to the ground and twist the sword to slit her throat. There was just one fibre left to sever, when suddenly the bone snapped.

'No!' Xena shrieked as she saw Hope prepare to drive the sword into Eve's chest.

And then the grove was plunged into darkness.

Xena cried out again with stricken anguish as a swift warm wind gusted through the thick oaks. The torches gutted, spat like snakes, and abruptly sprang back into life. Smoke swirled about her, stinging her eyes and confusing her senses. As the flames steadied and the shadows retreated Xena saw with choking relief that Eve still lived. And now two more figures had appeared in the smoky grove.

Xena stared at a male and a female who stood side by side. Their hair was long and black and their skin like olive oil. The female wore silver circlets shaped like vipers on her forearms and the male carried an ebony bronze-tipped spear. Necklaces of jet and amber adorned their chests but their clothing was sparse. They each wore a pale cloth tied at the waist that fell to their knees and both were barefoot. Xena knew instinctively that they were gods.

Hope cast aside the sword when she saw the newcomers and it landed with a dull thud. 'It took you long enough.'

The male god made as if to approach, then seemed to decide that the effort was not worth it. He smoothed the shiny curl at the end of his long dark beard instead. 'Our power wanes.'

'We didn't think we'd make it,' said the goddess. Her thick hair tumbled down her back and finished with a similar oiled curl. 'Then someone else's magic pulled us through. Is this the child you spoke of?'

'The very darling,' said Hope. 'Just the two of you, then?'

The god frowned. 'It's not easy to be away from Canaan. Especially now.'

Hope spoke to Xena. 'You see, Xena? This is what becomes of gods when their people lose belief. They wither.'

It was true, Xena realised. Like all the gods she had encountered these two exuded divine power, but they lacked the familiar potency. Something about them appeared infirm. She could not see it but she could feel it. Their presence seemed faded, like cloth that is losing its colourful dye.

'The child's mother?' asked the goddess, sounding only vaguely interested.

'The very bitch,' Hope confirmed.

Xena found her voice again. 'Who are you?' she asked.

The god replied. 'We are of the Elohim.'

Xena did not recognise the name. 'Who?'

Hope sniggered. 'Come on, Xena. You're so keen to promote Eli's new god. The least you could do is a little homework on who he is and where he's from.'

'I am Astarte,' said the female.

'I am Baal,' said the male.

'The Elohim are a foreign pantheon,' Hope told her. 'They rule in Canaan just as the Olympians rule here. Eli's new god is one of their lineage.'

Baal snorted with contempt. 'The cult of Yahweh. A jealous volcano god with delusions of grandeur.'

Hope smirked. 'Yes, well, mortals like those delusions. They give them a sense of superiority.'

'The chosen people of the one true god,' muttered Astarte. 'Life doesn't get more delusional or grandiose than that.'

Xena pulled at the vines again, daring to hope that she had weakened the one that bound her arms, but it still held her secure. She shuddered inside. As if it were not enough that the Greek gods were after her child, foreign gods were looking for her too. And now Pegassa's bone charm lay in pieces on the ground, its power spent.

Baal was staring down at Eve, as though assessing the threat she posed, but continued his brooding tirade. 'Yahweh tricked the people with his fire and they have grown self-righteous with their killing,' he muttered. Anger and regret welled in his eyes. 'He tricked me too with his promises of friendship, and while my back was turned his priests slaughtered mine.'

'You'll have to excuse Baal's bitterness,' said Astarte. 'When his priests were murdered he took it hard.'

'That's not Eli's way,' said Xena in confusion.

'It's the way of his god,' said Baal. 'Yahweh's a butcher. He sent his followers into Jericho to kill every living thing in the city - men, women, children... even the dumb animals in their pens.'

Hope leered at Xena. 'The blood of innocents! Inspiring, isn't it?'

'Is she Yahweh's agent?' Baal asked, still gazing at Eve.

Xena's eyes widened. Was that what these foreigners believed? 'No!' she shouted.

'Liar,' Hope said softly. 'The truth is that you don't know.'

Eve had fallen asleep again and Hope crouched to pick her up. She lifted the baby gently, humming softly as she straightened, like a mother with her own child.

Astarte looked at the tormented warrior and Xena could feel her soul exposed as if through a piece of glass. 'Is that true?' the goddess asked seriously. 'You don't know why your child came into the world?'

'I know she means no harm!'

'That's not what I asked.'

Hope intervened. 'The Olympians believe this child will bring about their destruction - a prophecy they call The Twilight. Is such a thing possible?'

'Of course it's possible,' said Astarte shortly. 'Prophecies are always possible. Some are even probable.'

'And if that happens,' Hope pressed the point, 'what will happen to the world?'

Xena saw Astarte glance at Baal. She frowned. Something was happening here that she had not figured out. Why had Hope summoned these Canaanite gods? Did she plan to give them her daughter's life in exchange for their favour? Xena resumed her efforts to break free of the vines but they held as firm as ever and the gods ignored her struggles.

Astarte answered Hope's question. 'If the Greek pantheon dies, Yahweh could move in to take control, and then the people will suffer.'

Xena shook her head to clear her thoughts. This Yahweh sounded similar to Hope's evil father Dahak. 'This is not Eli's god,' she said.

'Afraid so, Xena,' Hope declared with a grin. 'Your self-righteous pacifist didn't know what he was getting himself into.'

Xena was insistent. 'No. Eli's message is one of love. His god raised me from the dead.'

Hope laughed scornfully. 'Raised you from the dead? How many times have you been dead, Xena? If sticky ambrosia can raise you from the dead and turn a mortal into a god, what makes Eli's tricks so special?'

'I don't believe you. I don't believe any of this.'

'No.' Hope sneered. 'And you didn't believe Ares when he warned you about the temple in Britannia, and look where your arrogance led. My father raped my mother and I took revenge on your son.'

Xena forced down her miserable anger at the painful memories. If she was going to get out of this she had to concentrate on the here and now. Astarte and Baal considered themselves waning gods but they still had power. They could defeat Hope's influence if they chose. 'My daughter has nothing to do with your family conflict,' she insisted, 'And Eli wouldn't have allied himself with the god you describe.'

'Perhaps he didn't know,' said Baal. 'Yahweh will let no mortal look upon his face and live. He thinks he's too important.'

'I thought it was because he's so damn ugly,' said Astarte.

'The question is...' Hope interrupted, sounding a little impatient,' when Eli encouraged the people to abandon the Greek gods, what did he put in their place?'

'Faith in ourselves!' said Xena.

Hope looked at the two foreign gods. 'Is she right?' she asked them earnestly.

Baal and Astarte looked at each other, as though weighing the wisdom of giving her an answer. Eventually Astarte responded.

'No.'

Hope's eyes sparkled. 'No?' she repeated optimistically.

'No. Eli's cult is already creating a power vacuum, and Yahweh is poised to fill it.' The goddess looked at Xena with derision. 'You foolish mortal. It doesn't matter who or what Eli served. He incited a rebellion but abandoned its leadership. What do you think will happen when the sheep lose their way?'

'People are not sheep,' Xena countered firmly.

'Most of you are, and that's exactly how Yahweh likes you.' Astarte paused and she looked the kneeling warrior up and down. Her expression shifted and respect mingled with a tinge of sympathy crossed her face. 'Perhaps you are more of a wolf, Xena. You stood up to the gods long before Eli started his prattle. You're a rarity to have such conviction in yourself. But it's a double-edged sword, conviction; it gives you strength and focus, but when you make mistakes they can turn out to be huge.' She raised her eyes and sighed with calm resignation. 'For good or ill, most of you need us to beseech or thank or blame.'

'And Yahweh accepts no blame,' Baal grumbled at the ground.

'That's true,' Astarte said sadly. 'So his followers will blame each other. They'll find new names to curse each other - infidel, heathen, heretic, witch... They'll call their One God by different names and kill each other because the names aren't one. There will be bloodbath after bloodbath.' She turned back to Hope. 'Enough of this. We know it's why you asked us to come. You want to honour your father's dream.'

Xena's skin chilled. Of course. The gods had been afraid of Dahak because he would have brought about their ruin. But Eli's teachings also meant their doom. 'And you want to know how best to serve it...' she said, her voice a desolate whisper.

Hope met Xena's still gaze and smiled, almost coyly. 'I knew you'd get there in the end, warrior. Sweet, isn't it? Your daughter shares my father's ambition. The death of the Olympians.'

'If the child poses such a threat,' said Astarte cautiously. 'So far no one has shown how this child means their death.'

'Zeus is already dead,' said Baal.

Astarte's reply was dismissive. 'The baby didn't strike him down; Hercules did. Greek males are always killing their fathers, it's nothing new.'

'But their power is beginning to fail,' said Baal. 'Don't you feel the waning here too?'

Astarte paused and inhaled deeply through her nose. She held the breath, her eyes closed, then released it suddenly. She opened her eyes. 'Yes,' she admitted. 'They are following in our unwilling footsteps.' She eyed Hope reluctantly. 'So you're right, after a fashion. With or without powers of her own, the child will hasten their demise. Their struggle to destroy her can only weaken them.'

Hope laughed in triumph. 'Yes!' She looked fondly at the baby sleeping in her arms and rocked gently from side to side. 'You hear that, precious? I won't have to kill you now. You're on my side after all.'

Xena wanted to vomit. She could not bear the sight of her hated enemy cradling and cooing her daughter like a friend. She struggled fiercely against the vines, desperate to be free so that she could rescue her child from the fiend's tender embrace. Hope sensed her efforts and looked up. She grinned with spite and the noose shortened an inch, forcing Xena to stretch her body erect. Xena realised with despair that Hope's power to control them was not weakening as the minutes wore on. She could probably maintain their strength for hours if she needed to.

'Is that enough?' Astarte asked Hope.

Hope nodded. 'Thank you.'

'It makes no difference to us. Too late, you see.'

'It's never too late for revenge,' Hope said mildly.

'Don't tempt me.' Astarte glanced at the strained warrior in pain. 'Will you kill her?'

'She's of interest to you?' Hope asked in surprise.

'Not really,' said Baal, and the two foreign gods melted into the air for home.

The grove seemed to grow dim without their presence. Hope wandered to and fro, whispering softly to the baby. 'There now, they were nice people, weren't they? I think they liked you too.' She goaded Xena with another triumphant smile. 'Eli's cult heralds a dawn of unprecedented hatred and bloodshed. His jealous god will have no other beside himself, and millions are going to die by fire and the sword.' She tasted the words on her tongue, like ripe fruit. 'There will be such Holy wars...'

Xena tried to speak but the noose on her neck began to tighten and choked off her reply.

Hope gazed fondly at the peaceful child in her arms and sighed, apparently despairing at the stupidity she foresaw. 'Don't you see, Xena? It's more than my father could have dreamt - that a fire god should rise to these heights and wreak such havoc in the world. There's going to be another Flood, but this time not mere rainwater. There's going to be a deluge of blood.'

The vine pulled deep under Xena's chin and her breathing grew laboured. Tiny blood vessels broke around her eyes and her tongue swelled in her mouth.

Hope smiled at Eve again. 'So I won't kill your daughter, Xena. If she hastens the Twilight I'll let her live and honour my father's ambition at the same time. Which just leaves you...'

Xena convulsed as the vine cut off her final breath of air. She fought with every last ounce of her strength but now she knew that she was beaten. The torches dimmed as her vision clouded and her eyes rolled back in her head. The last thing she heard was Hope singing a tender lullaby as the darkness claimed her.Dawn's early light seeped through the gnarled oak branches and Xena woke to find herself cold and alone. Her throat felt as though it were lined with stones and her stiff muscles ached. Vines still tangled her limbs but their unnatural strength was long gone and she tore at the foliage to escape. She staggered to her feet amidst dead and blackened torches and ran desperately from the grove.

A multitude of questions sped through her mind as she raced through the trees. Why had Hope spared her? Had she meant to? Did she think Eve's chances of survival better with her mother alive to protect her? Xena's heart hammered as her feet pounded the rough ground, retracing last night's heedless chase back to the camp. She burst into the clearing and skidded on the damp leaf litter to fall heavily to the ground.

When she regained her senses Xena looked up from the dirt. The fire had gone out. Gabrielle was curled up beside a cedar tree and Eve was sleeping in her arms. An apple core lay in the grass beside them, it's chewed flesh turning brown and ugly as daylight brought decay.

And Xena wondered how if Hope took after Dahak she could look so like her mother.

End Biblical references for the interested:

The Wisdom of Solomon:

And the king said, "Bring me a sword." So a sword was brought before the king. And the king said, "Divide the living child in two, and give half to the one, and half to the other." Then the woman whose son was alive said to the king, because her heart yearned for her son, "Oh, my lord, give her the living child, and by no means slay it." Then the king answered and said, "Give the living child to the first woman, and by no means slay it; she is its mother."

1 Kings 3 v.24-27

The Killing of Baal's Priests:

Then the fire of the Lord fell, and consumed the burnt offering, and the wood, and the stones, and the dust, and licked up the water that was in the trench. And when all the people saw it, they fell on their faces; and they said, "The Lord, he is God; the Lord, he is God." And Eli'jah said to them, "Seize the prophets of Ba'al; let not one of them escape." And they seized them; and Eli'jah brought them down to the brook Kishon, and killed them there.

1 Kings 18 v.38-40

The Massacre at Jericho:

On the seventh day they rose early at the dawn of day, and marched around the city in the same manner seven times: it was only on that day that they marched around the city seven times. And at the seventh time, when the priests had blown the trumpets, Joshua said to the people, "Shout; for the Lord has given you the city. And the city and all that is within it shall be devoted to the Lord for destruction; only Rahab the harlot shall live, because she hid the messengers that we sent. But you, keep yourselves from the things devoted to destruction, lest when you have devoted them you take any of the devoted things and make the camp of Israel a thing for destruction, and bring trouble upon it. But all silver and gold, and vessels of bronze and iron, are sacred to the Lord; they shall go into the treasury of the Lord." So the people shouted, and the trumpets were blown. As soon as the people heard the sound of the trumpet, the people raised a great shout, and the wall fell down flat, so that the people went up into the city, every man straight before him, and they took the city. Then they utterly destroyed all in the city, both men and women, young and old, oxen, sheep, and asses, with the edge of the sword.

Joshua 6 v.15-21