"Grab the wheel now!"

A small hand shot out and clamped on the steering wheel as Sara’s head once again popped up so she could peer over the dashboard. "Oh God, Xena. We’re gonna crash," she moaned.

"Hush, now. Just do the best you can." Twisting in her own seat, Xena kept her head below the level of the headrest, forcing the blunted barrel of her shotgun between the headrests of the bench seat. Peering above the protective barrier, the warrior took a second to aim, then caressed the trigger.

The resulting boom caused Sara’s hand to jerk on the wheel, which in turn caused Xena to fly over into the passenger’s seat, her strong body cracking Sara’s head against the dashboard. The wheel jerked again, and the warrior was thrown back in the opposite direction. She peered over the seat again, gauging the effect of her shot.

The trailing car’s windshield was shattered, but the driver appeared to be unharmed. The distance was closing by the second. Chambering another round, Xena sighted and let loose, grunting in satisfaction as the driver’s head exploded like an overripe melon, splattering the car’s interior with great gouts of blood. The car jerked sharply to the left and down a steep embankment. The resulting explosion lit up the night sky briefly.

Throwing the gun into the passenger’s seat, Xena twisted around again and liberated the steering wheel from Sara’s panicked grip. "You ok?" she asked her now silent partner.

"I-I think so. I feel kinda dizzy though."

"Look at me. Damn." The young woman’s forehead was split from her impact with the dashboard. Xena grabbed the sleeve of her own shirt and ripped, wadding the cloth up and pressing it against the freely flowing wound. "Keep the pressure on. Scalp wounds bleed a lot, but you’re gonna be ok. Just stay down, alright?"

"No worries there. I don’t think I could sit up if I wanted to." There was a long moment of silence, then Sara’s tremulous voice spoke up again. "Xena, what’s going to happen to us?"

Xena spared a glance at her young companion. Sara’s face was pale in the fractured moonlight. Blood made garish, tear-like tracks down her rounded cheeks. Her injured jaw was well shadowed with bruises. "We’re gonna get out of this, Sara," Xena said forcefully. "I refuse to let myself be pawed by some ape in a monkey suit only to be taken out by a bunch of idiots who have to be told how to tie their own shoes, got me?"

Sara’s relieved giggle was music to the warrior’s ears. She nodded to herself. "Alright then. Just keep pressure on that wound and let me worry about our guests."

With a last jig to the left, the road smoothed out, becoming a straight plain with a slight decline. Xena gunned the engine, eyes darting left and right in an effort to spy some sort of park maintenance turnoff where she could hide the car briefly. If she could just get rid of the tracer, they should be home free.

Her search was cut short by the sight of high beams splaying across the fractured windshield, causing her to throw up a long arm to shield her eyes. A large car was heading toward her at a high rate of speed, fishtailing severely as the driver tried to keep the vehicle on the narrow road. As she watched, Xena saw the head and shoulders of a man as he popped up through the car’s sunroof. Fire erupted from the muzzle of the gun he was carrying and the warrior ducked again as the cruiser’s windshield shattered, filling the air, and her face, with diamonds of glass. She blocked Sara’s terror-filled scream from her mind as she concentrated on keeping the cruiser on the road.

A spray of bullets flew past her right shoulder as the warrior leaned over to retrieve her gun. Sara screamed again and Xena spared the young woman another glance. Sara’s face was deathly pale, her jade eyes wide and rolling in her panic. The warrior clamped one strong hand on her shoulder briefly and squeezed, grinning ferally at her. "Sit tight."

Using her long, strong legs to clamp onto the steering wheel, Xena slammed another two rounds into the chamber of her weapon, locking the barrel and poking it out of the driver’s side window. Mafia bullets were puncturing through the cruiser at an alarming rate, attesting to the marksmanship skill of their current assassin. Xena held her fire until the car was almost upon them. She could see the evil smiles of the men inside the car and she flashed them one of her own. As the car came alongside, she pumped the trigger, watching in satisfaction as the assassin’s head was torn from his shoulders in a fountain of blood and gore.

The dark car flew past, turning in a slow, banking skid, then looped around twice more, unbalanced by the dead weight of the man still lolling out of the sunroof.

"Gotcha," Xena grunted, tossing down the gun and grabbing the wheel once again.

Banking left along a broad curve, the warrior noted with dismay that the road narrowed quite severely in this section of the park. Ancient huts, used to house Washington’s tattered forces, stood sentinel over the undulating fields. Xena’s appreciation for the crude constructions which had managed to survive the centuries was cut short by the sight of another car bearing down upon her. Her eyes narrowed as adrenaline pumped through her system anew. Her teeth gleamed in the darkness through sneering lips. Her night-black hair flew back from her striking face in wild abandon, blown by the gale caused by speed and the lack of a windshield. Ya wanna play chicken, huh? C’mon, boys. Let’s do it.

Centering the cruiser carefully on the narrow lane, Xena pushed the pedal to the floorboards, grinning wildly, her blood singing with malevolent joy. The two cars headed toward one another, gathering speed as they approached. The warrior’s gaze never wavered, her grin never faltered. She was in her element and no two-bit son of a Caesar was going to ruin her fun.

Closer and closer the cars came, neither driver willing to give way. The road was too narrow to swing around. Either way lead to death.

Xena never faltered. Her very birth had prepared her for moments like these. She was an elemental force in its purest form, unsullied by the encroachment of man’s knowledge and penchant for destruction.

Sara looked up from her crouched position, tears springing unbidden from her eyes at the vision before her. It was like the looking at the majestic beauty of a volcano as it spread it’s tendrils of lava along the ground or a tidal wave reclaiming what belonged to the sea, fearless and terrifyingly beautiful in its destruction. From her position, the young woman didn’t know what was happening, but, like in that quiet forest glade, she knew she was experiencing a moment so primal, so profound, that no words would ever do it justice.

At the very last second before impact, the large black car carrying the Mafia men swerved, occupants screaming their last as the vehicle flew off the road, hit a downed tree, and flipped, hood over trunk, in giant loops as it went down the side of the long, steep embankment.

Xena sped forward, never glancing back, all her concentration centered on the road ahead. A small shack surrounded by wire fencing came into view on her left and she slammed on the breaks, bringing the car into a controlled, looping skid. Hitting the accelerator slightly, she pulled the battered cruiser into the small paved driveway next to the maintenance shack.

"Why are we stopping? What are we doing?"

"Just keep out of sight," Xena ordered, slipping quickly out of the car and squatting near the front fender. Reaching under the wheel-well, she grasped the tracking device and pulled it away from the metal. Standing, she arched back her arm and threw the thin metal square like she would her chakram, watching as it flew high and far into the air. "Track that," she grunted in satisfaction, slipping back into the cruiser.

Seconds later, a car blew past them, the headless body of the Mafia assassin still lolling out of the sunroof. Grinning in malevolent delight, Xena jammed the cruiser into reverse and backed out onto the blacktop, turning the car to go back the way they had come. "Time to say our good-byes."

"But the party was just getting started," Sara mock-complained, her ears suddenly filled with the totally delightful musicality of Xena’s laughter.

The warrior had ‘disabled’ two cars and sent a third on a wild goose chase. Only one remained, and she had a pretty good idea just where it was hiding. Her suspicions were confirmed as the cruiser breasted a mild rise heading toward the park gate.

There, parked at an oblique angle to the gate, sat the fourth of the Mafia cars. A lone man stood against the front of the vehicle, a semi-automatic machine gun perched casually at his hip, pointed in the direction of the oncoming police cruiser. A sneer curled his lips. "You die now, bitch," he whispered as his finger caressed the trigger of his weapon, grinning as tongues of fire spit from the mouth of the gun.

Xena headed straight for the man, doing her best to ignore the hail of bullets as they threaded their way through and around the cruiser. Raising her own gun yet again, she took careful aim and fired. A sudden unseen dip in the pavement caused the shot to miss its mark, instead exploding one of the car’s front tires. The gunman yelped and dove back into the now listing car.

Twisting the wheel to the right at the last second, Xena aimed the nose of the patrol car into the small space between the Mafia vehicle and the standing cemented post of the gate. She winced at the loud squeal of metal over metal as the cruiser shot through the narrow gap, leaving half of it’s paint job behind.

"Is it over?" Sara asked from her place on the floor, her hand still firmly pressing the makeshift bandage over her head wound.

Risking a quick glance behind her, Xena nodded. "All clear."

"Thank God. Can I sit up now? Please?"

Grinning tightly, the warrior grabbed the young woman under her arm and hauled her back up into her seat.

Oriented now to her location, Sara was able to lead the pair home through back roads, correctly deciding that a bullet-ridden police cruiser would attract a great deal of unwanted attention on a more public thoroughfare. Within an hour, they were back at the sight of the abduction. Both exited the cruiser and Xena steered it off the road and down a small embankment, watching in satisfaction as the car rolled under its own downward momentum to come to a stop, fender deep in a sluggish stream.

"Takes care of that," Xena proclaimed, dusting her hands off and walking over to the surprisingly intact Mercedes. "Let’s get outta here."

 

They made it back to the city without incident, Xena keeping carefully to the imposed speed limits. Pulling into to the parking lot of a motel a step up from the squalid hovels they’d occupied before, Xena quirked a half-smile at her quiet companion. "I think we deserve a little luxury tonight, don’t you?"

Sara could only nod, trying mightily to hold back the dam of tears that threatened to spill over as the events of the past few hours flooded into her now unoccupied mind. Vivid images passed behind her eyes, bringing with them shudders of tension.

"Hey," Xena said softly, reaching over to cup the young woman’s chin and guide her face over and up. "What’s wrong?"

"N-nothing. I’ll be ok. I’m just . . .really tired."

Disbelief shone in the sapphire brilliance of Xena’s eyes, but after a moment she nodded and released her grip on Sara’s chin. "Wait here," she said, opening the door and slipping her long frame out of the car. "I’ll get us a room." With a slam of the door, the warrior was gone.

Refusing to give in to the emotions railing against her defenses, Sara wrapped tight arms around herself, rocking slowly in the soft leather seat. "Oh God," she whimpered. "Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Don’t cry, Sara. Don’t you cry. Cause if you do, you won’t stop." The sound of her own voice comforted the young woman slightly and she continued to hug herself tightly and rock.

Moments later, Xena returned, slipping back into the car. "I’ve got us a room around back. We’ll unpack, you can wash up, and I’ll take a look at your head, ok?" Her voice and eyes were gentle on the distraught young woman.

Sara simply nodded.

Xena led the way into the hotel room. Despite her current emotional state, Sara looked around in enjoyment. The walls were tastefully papered, the obligatory "ship sailing into the sunset" painting featured prominently over the large bed which was swaddled in what the young woman always called "Golden Harvest for Hotel Beds" paisley bedspread. At a gentle nudge to her hand, Sara snapped out of her reverie to look up at her companion.

"Let me take care of unpacking. Why don’t you go in and get cleaned up. I’ll take a look at your wounds when you’re done, alright?"

"Alright," Sara breathed, dropping the bags and wandering dazedly into the bathroom, wincing as she snapped on the light. Taking a look at her battered face in the mirror, the young woman gasped. She ran disbelieving fingers over the bruising on her cheek and jaw as she stared at the gory tracks of dried blood descending from the scalp wound. The tears welled up then, the dam bursting under the replayed horror of the day. She collapsed against the sink, sobbing.

Hearing the muffled weeping, Xena dropped what she was doing and strode into the bathroom. "Hey," she cooed, walking over to Sara and enveloping her in a strong embrace. "Hey, it’s alright. Everything’s alright."

Sara allowed the comfort for a brief moment before forcefully pushing herself away. "You’re wrong, Xena. Everything is not alright. It’s not! We were . . .we were almost killed tonight! That police officer tried to rape you! How can you say everything’s alright?" Sobbing, she stumbled against the warrior, pushing her flushed face against the warmth of Xena’s upper chest.

Xena’s long arms wrapped around the grief-stricken woman yet again as one hand raised up to stroke soft blonde hair. "Shhhh. We’re safe now. I wasn’t raped. We weren’t killed. We’re here. We’re safe. Shhhh."

After several long moments, Sara’s death grip on Xena’s torn shirt lessened and her sobs trickled off to a few isolated tears. Still sniffling, she pulled away again, giving the warrior a watery smile. "You must really think I’m a crybaby, huh."

Xena returned the smile, gently stroking the young woman’s cheek with the back of her hand. "No, I don’t. You’ve had a very traumatic experience. You’re just reacting the way any normal person would."

"I don’t see you crying," Sara countered.

The caressing hand stopped as the mask came down over the warrior’s features again. "I don’t think I have any tears left," she said softly before turning and leaving the room.

A troubled Sara washed her battered body and changed into the nightshirt Xena had brought into the bathroom with her. Hesitantly stepping back into the main room, she looked at the tall warrior who was staring out of the window. "Xena? I’m sorry if I upset you. I . . .I didn’t mean to."

A long minute later, Xena turned from the window to face Sara, the mask still in place. "You didn’t upset me," she said softly, walking over to the young woman and urging her gently onto the bed. "Now let’s take a look at that face of yours, shall we?"

The tall warrior stepped into the bathroom, returning with a wet rag. Gathering some jars from her luggage, she came forward to kneel in front of Sara’s seated form. Working gently, she washed the dried and clotted blood from the young woman’s face, examining the cut closely. Nodding in satisfaction, she turned her attention to Sara’s bruised jaw and cheek, probing it gently with tender fingers. "Nothing appears to be broken," she remarked softly, uncapping one of the jars and spreading the minty-smelling salve carefully over the bruising. "We’ll leave your cut to air out overnight. It isn’t deep enough to need stitching."

"Wow, that stuff really does feel good," Sara remarked, smiling slightly against the diminishing pain in her jaw. "But it’s making my eyes water."

Xena gave the young blonde a gentle half smile as she rose fluidly to her feet, recapping the salve jar. "Then I guess it’s lucky you’re going to sleep. You’ll be fine once you close your eyes. C’mon." With a tender clasp of Sara’s arm, Xena urged the young woman to her feet as she turned down the bed linens. "Hop in."

Sara slipped into the fresh clean sheets and Xena pulled the covers over her form, bending down to place a kiss on one golden temple. "Goodnight, Sara," she murmured before straightening again and retreating into the bathroom with fresh clothing.

Pulling off her ruined shirt and bra, the warrior viewed her image in the mirror. The bruising and bite marks on her breasts were almost totally healed and she grunted in satisfaction. Her wrists still bore telltale circlets from the too-tight handcuffs, but she was sure that by morning, those too would be back to normal. Stripping off the rest of her clothing, she washed quickly and pulled on a long T-shirt and cotton shorts, then stepped back into the main room, intending to do a little computer work before she turned in.

"Xena?" came a sleepy voice to her left.

"Yes?"

"I was wondering." Sara’s voice hesitated for a second and Xena tensed. "Could . . .I mean would you be able to . . .um . . . ."

"What is it, Sara." Though inpatient, she kept her voice steady.

"I . . .well, after everything that’s happened today, I really don’t want to sleep alone. Do you think you could sleep here with me tonight?" A faint blush crawled over Sara’s face. "I’m sure by tomorrow I’ll be better but . . . ." Her voice trailed off.

Smiling slightly, Xena changed the direction of her travel and pulled the linens back again. "Scoot over."

Grinning in grateful relief, Sara did as instructed, feeling the warrior’s warm body slide easily next to her own.

"Better?"

Impulsively, Sara leaned over and kissed Xena’s cheek. "Much. Thanks." Burrowing down into the covers once again, the young woman fell asleep with a smile on her face.

Upon hearing Sara’s deep, even breathing, the warrior turned her head to study her young companion. Her hand came up to tenderly stroke golden hair, a gentle, loving smile on her face. "Oh, Gabrielle," she sighed, eyes misting slightly. Turning her face toward the ceiling again, Xena fell into a deep sleep, her hand still entangled in Sara’s thick hair.

 

Sara awoke the next morning feeling oddly refreshed, her mind at peace and mercifully free of the past day’s terrors. Until she uttered a bone cracking yawn and the pain in her jaw flamed anew.

Xena was there within seconds, hands gently probing Sara’s wounded face as long fingers spread soothing salve over the dark bruising. Her steely blue eyes took in the cut on the young woman’s forehead. "Healing nicely," she said in a low, purring tone.

The dark warrior’s voice threaded its way down Sara’s still drowsy nerve endings and she resisted mightily the urge to sink into the lips so close to her own. Instead, she let her eyes drift slowly closed, feeling Xena’s fingers as they tenderly caressed the skin of her face.

Suddenly realizing that her touches had become something more than clinical, Xena pulled back, closing her eyes briefly before raising gracefully to her feet. Setting the jar of salve down on the nightstand, she turned back to the desk, sinking into the chair and gazing into her computer screen.

Sara’s eyes snapped open as her body noted the quick absence of the warrior’s intoxicating warmth so near her own. The stern remoteness was stamped over the dark woman’s face once again and Sara sighed, pushing herself off the bed. "So, what’s up for today’s grand adventure?"

The blue eyes which met Sara’s were flat, almost lifeless. "I figure we’ll spend the day laying low. I’ll give Jarrod a call to come around this evening. You two can have dinner together while I take care of business. Sound good?" Without waiting for an answer, Xena turned back to her screen, simply staring at the flat surface.

Closing the distance between the two, Sara stepped behind Xena’s chair, laying her palm atop the warrior’s shoulder. "Xena?" A long moment of silence passed. Sara removed her hand. "Did I do something to upset you?" Her voice was soft, hesitant.

The warrior spun quickly, grasping Sara’s hand and holding it gently in her own larger one. "No. You did nothing wrong. I’m just . . . .I have a lot of things on my mind." Her steely gaze softened as the arched plains of her face smoothed into a small smile.

Which Sara returned in full measure, relieved beyond the telling. "Alright then. If you can do without me for a few minutes, I think I’ll take a shower." Grabbing some clean clothes, the young woman happily made her way into the bathroom, closing the door gently behind her.

Turning back to the computer, the smile left Xena’s face. Waking up holding Sara this morning had almost shattered her. Her waking body, still alive with the fire of yesterday’s battle, reacted immediately to Sara’s intimate presence, demanding satiation. The sense of temporal dislocation, her constant companion since she’s met the honey blonde twin of her soul’s mate descended full force and the warrior came very close to making a very big mistake. The bruised swelling on Sara’s innocent face snapped Xena back into her present reality and she disentangled herself from her companion’s firm grip as if burned, disgusted by her body’s betrayal.

But the blood fire refused to be dampened and it was making her edgy. The thought of spending the entire day indoors, in close personal contact with the woman who wore her beloved’s face was something she wasn’t altogether sure she could handle. She sensed Sara’s attraction, sensed the passion dance that was often an undercurrent to their brief, enforced companionship and was at a loss to understand what to do about it.

When Sara came back into the room, her golden hair freshly washed, her cheeks flushed from the warmth of the shower, Xena bolted to her feet, the desk chair crashing to its back behind her. "I have to get out of here. I won’t be gone long." With that, she escaped, leaving a totally puzzled young woman behind.

 

Grabbing her sword from the trunk of the Mercedes, Xena raced off into a small wooded area just behind the motel. This time, the gentle peace of the windblown trees did not fill her with the calm she was seeking. It only served to increase the distance between where she was now and where she most desperately wanted to be. "Damn you, Gabrielle," she shouted, slashing through the underbrush with powerful strokes of her brutally sharp sword. "Damn you to Tartarus! Why did you have to die? I could have saved you! Why did you do it? Why?" Tossing the weapon to the ground, the tall woman sank to her knees, her head thrown back to face the heavens. "Why??" The wail pierced the stillness of the quiet winter morning, sending a flock of late migrating birds into startled flight.

Retrieving her weapon, Xena twirled it in the air above her head before thrusting it, point first, into the winter-hardened ground. Wrapping both hands around the hilt, she bent forward to rest her forehead against the chilled pommel.

"Sometimes, Xena, things happen for reasons we don’t understand until later. You taught me that, remember?"

Gabrielle’s voice settled around her soul like a warm cloak, comforting the grieving warrior. She remembered that conversation as if it had taken place only yesterday.

It was the aftermath of a furious, bloody battle. Pellacles’ army numbered close to one hundred and was well trained and well armed. Most of the village men had been killed in previous raids. Xena and Gabrielle were forced to defend with a handful of elderly men and a large group of determined women. The tide had turned when Xena was able to separate the warlord from his head, but only after sustaining a deep wound to her side in the process. In her battle-inspired lust, the warrior had barely felt the wound, but the bard had seen it and her face had gone pale. "Xena!" she screamed, finishing off three attackers with a brutality she had rarely shown.

The sound of the warrior’s name, coupled with the beheading of their leader caused the remaining invaders to break off their battle and flee to their horses. Xena turned, slightly bewildered as the young bard launched herself at her companion, stark terror suffusing her features.

"Xena, you’re wounded. Let’s get back to the Inn."

"Gabrielle, it’s just a scratch. It doesn’t even hurt." And truthfully, it didn’t. Which, in and of itself, wasn’t all that odd. Xena rarely felt battlefield wounds until after the fire had burned free from her blood. She looked down into the bard’s panicked green eyes. "I’m fine." A crooked smile attempted to convey sincerity.

"Xena, you don’t know it yet, but you are not fine. I saw his sword go into your side. I saw it come out covered with your . . . . By the gods."

The warrior looked down to where Gabrielle’s hand disappeared inside her sliced tunic. "What is it?"

The hand came out again with just a small smear of blood on the fingers. "This . . .can’t be. Xena, I saw him stab you. I saw his sword come out of your body covered with blood. Your blood."

Grasping the trembling hand, Xena met the shocked gaze of her beloved. "Sometimes the light plays tricks on you. It wasn’t as bad as it looked."

The young bard laughed mirthlessly. "You’re wrong, Xena. I know what I saw." Tugging on their joined hands, the stubborn blonde led the perplexed warrior in the direction of the Inn.

 

Behind the safety of closed doors, Gabrielle had strode determinedly to her partner, hands unerringly finding the clasps to her armor. "Off. I want these off. I need to see how bad that wound is."

Xena sighed, gently capturing the bard’s hands in her own. "Gabrielle, I told you. It’s just a scratch."

"Humor me, then," Gabrielle snapped, pulling her hands free of their gentle confinement and returning to her work of separating the Warrior Princess from her accoutrements.

When Xena was stripped naked, Gabrielle urged her down onto the bed as she lit several candles which combined from the light from the fireplace, brightening the small room and banishing the shadowed corners completely.

Joining her partner on the bed, the bard gently moved one long arm out of her way as she bent her head to peer at the warrior’s naked side. "This is impossible," she breathed, her fingers probing the small closed gash to which only a thin crust of dried blood adhered.

Gently pushing Gabrielle’s hands out of the way, Xena probed her own wound, tracing one long finger up and down the length of it. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to remember the strike. Her arms had been out, away from her body, wrapped around the hilt of her sword which was parallel to the ground as she followed through on her decapitating stroke. It had left her abdomen bare for a counter-strike, which the warlord unerringly made. She remembered feeling the bite of the sword as it cleaved through her leather protection and sunk hotly into her side. She remembered the grin on Pellacles’ face as he withdrew the blade. . . .covered in blood.

Eyes wide, Xena looked back down at the injury. "He must have missed somehow." Her voice sounded hollow and insincere even to her own ears. "The blood could have been someone else’s."

"But it wasn’t," Gabrielle countered, the set of her jaw grim and determined. "That was your blood, Xena."

"Then how do you explain this?"

Defeated, Gabrielle sat back. "I can’t. It just doesn’t make any sense. I know what I saw, Xena. Unless . . . ." Knowledge sparked through the jade of her eyes. The sight of Callisto stabbing her own abdomen with her sword sprang up unbidden. "Ambrosia."

"What?"

"Ambrosia. Food of the gods. Callisto and Valasca ate it and they became gods. I gave it to you when you . . .died."

The warrior snorted in derision. "I’m no god." One long arm flung out, fingers pointed toward the blazing fireplace. "See? No lightning bolts. No fire balls." She smirked. "And before you add anything, my dear, my eyes were blue before you gave me the ambrosia."

"I’m serious, Xena. It’s the only thing that possibly explains this."

"No, Gabrielle. The explanation is that I got lucky. Again. What you saw was a trick of the light. Nothing more."

"No! It was no trick! You don’t believe that story any more than I do. I can see it in your eyes, Xena."

"No? Fine. I’ll prove it to you." Reaching down, Xena pulled a dagger out of her greave, placing the point against her now-unprotected inner arm.

"What are you doing?" Gabrielle asked, eyes wide with fear. She reached for the knife, but Xena snatched it away easily.

"I’m going to prove to you once and for all that I am just as mortal as you are."

"Don’t."

"Hush now." Putting a bit more pressure on the blade, Xena began to drag the lethally sharp weapon slowly up her arm. She felt the familiar sting as flesh parted and beads of blood welled up from the wound. She smiled tightly. "See? I bleed."

"Xena, look." The tone of Gabrielle’s voice could only be described as horror-filled.

Looking down at her own arm, the warrior’s eyes widened. The cut was sealing itself slowly as she watched. "No," she whispered. "No." She felt the warmth of Gabrielle’s hand as the bard gently removed the steel blade from her nerveless fingers. "Why now?" Xena turned bewildered eyes to her cherished companion. "You gave me the ambrosia two years ago. I’ve been injured since then. Why now?"

"I don’t know," Gabrielle replied softly, tucking a strand of golden hair behind her ear. "Sometimes things happen for reasons we don’t understand until later. You taught me that, Xena. Remember?"

"Yes, Gabrielle," Xena whispered from her place on a small forest floor. "I remember." She also remembered what had happened later that evening, when the full weight of just what she had unwittingly become was set down heavily on her shoulders. And the knowledge that Gabrielle would die one day and be taken from her life forever became more than she could bear. She had collapsed into the sturdy soothing arms of her lover, curled up fetally, dark head pressed against the bard’s strongly beating heart, wishing with everything in her that she could simply stay there forever, willing that strong muscle to never stop beating.

 

An eternity, or what had passed for one then, had passed in the bard’s strong embrace. Tears refused to fall, refused to be released from the darkness of more gentle emotions where they hid. There was just the sound of Gabrielle’s soft crooning voice and her own silence as a vast well of bleak emptiness began to reassert its claim upon her soul.

She knew what was happening, knew it as each corner of her soul became numb. She was grieving a death that, the Fates willing, would not occur until years hence. Slowly closing up inside to spare herself from a pain that would be her undoing if she let it. It had been like this with Lyceus. The rage had built after Caesar’s betrayal. Before that, nothing. Just a merciful numbness, swaddling all emotions, light and dark, in a cloak of emptiness. She felt the seductive Sirens’ call now and the sight of a wound healing before her eyes left her without the strength to fight it.

Gabrielle felt the change taking place and tightened her grip on the warrior, trying to remind her through touch alone that the one for whom she was grieving was still very much alive. "We’re in this together, Xena."

"For now." With the last of her depleted strength, Xena pulled away from her lover’s embrace and stood, striding across the small room to bring a slashing fist down onto a crudely made table, shattering it.

"Xena . . . ." Gabrielle protested, gathering herself to rise to her partner.

Flinging out an upraised hand, Xena stalled her. "Don’t. I have to work through this somehow."

"Don’t you mean ‘we’?" The trace of hurt was plain.

Xena kept her face turned away, eyes staring at the embers of the slowly dying fire. "No. Tonight, tomorrow, ten years from now, you’ll be gone. And I . . .won’t."

Silence reined in the room for a long while then, punctuated only by the soft sounds of Gabrielle disrobing and readying herself for bed. "It’s been a long day. Why don’t you come to bed." The tone was offhand and casual.

"No. You go on ahead. I’m not very tired."

More silence as Gabrielle settled herself on the bed. "Come to me, Xena."

The warrior froze, staring down at the shattered remnants of the table. ‘Lao Ma?’ an internal voice cried out. Making a slow half turn, Xena looked at Gabrielle who was holding her arms out in a welcoming gesture. Xena could no more stop going to that entrancing figure than she could stop breathing. Her steps were slow and measured but not hesitant. "Yes?" she said finally, finding her voice.

"I’m here, Xena. Right here. Not dead, not buried, not gone. Here. And as long as I have a breath left in my body, I will not have you treating me like a shade. Do you understand?"

"I can’t . . . ."

"I need you, Xena." The verdant eyes, lush with passion, burned into the warrior’s own. "Love me. Please."

Xena took in a deep breath. "Gabrielle . . . ."

Reaching out, the young woman captured a large hand and placed it gently upon her breast. "Please." The plea was whispered, yet the sound carried easily through the room.

The warrior gazed down at the sight of her hand cupping Gabrielle’s breast, entranced by the sight of her tanned flesh against the milky whiteness of the bard’s soft, warm flesh. Lifting her palm away, Xena trailed long fingers over the firm skin, gently tracing the contours of the treasure she was offered. Part of her felt as if she were viewing this from some distance away. She felt detached, almost, yet connected in a way so elemental that the profundity of it both startled and warmed her, reaching down into some as yet untapped piece of her essence and caressing it into blooming life.

Gabrielle was enchanted by the look on her lover’s face. If there were lust or passion there, it was deeply buried. Rather, Xena looked at her the way one would a gift beyond price. It moved her in a way that nothing ever had and she willed against her body’s instinctive reaction to the gentle caresses so as not to break the moment. The surreal beauty brought tears to her eyes.

Lifting her hand away, Xena sought and captured a tear as it traced its way down the bard’s flushed cheek. "Why are you crying?" she asked, voice hoarse and thick with emotion.

"Beautiful." It was all she had the voice for.

Xena smiled, that gentle crooked grin that Gabrielle so loved. "Yes. You are." Her tear-stained fingers drew gentle trails over forehead and brow.

"We," Gabrielle said firmly. At Xena’s questioning look, she elaborated. "We are beautiful."

The grin returned as the warrior fell into the soft waiting lips. "Mmmm. That we are."

 

Xena felt the hand on her shoulder at the same time she heard the voice softly call out. "Xena?"

Within a split second, she was on her feet, lethal edge of the sword resting against the neck of a wide-eyed Sara. After a beat, Xena let out a pent up breath and lowered her sword, her eyes narrowing. "Don’t ever come up behind me like that. I could have killed you."

Sara swallowed hard through a dry throat. "I know that. Now." She took a step back, eyes never leaving the warrior. Xena’s skin was flushed with a rosy hue, her eyes simmering and violet. Waves of dark energy emanated off her body effortlessly, buffeting against Sara’s smaller form and causing a responding surge within the young woman. Licking her lips, quite against her conscious will, she took a step back toward the tall woman who’s magnetic pulsing drew her in and held her tightly.

When their bodies were separated by mere inches, Xena reached up and placed her hand against the soft leather of the duster Sara was wearing. "No. Not here. Not like this."

"I . . .I don’t understand." And she didn’t. The pull was too strong to be denied.

Xena’s eyes gentled as they regained their normal ice blue color. She stepped away, severing the connection between them. "I think you do," she countered, hefting her sword and laying the deadly edge against one shoulder. "You’re Sara."

Jade eyes blinked once, confused. "And?" Then the understanding came and with it, sadness. "Yes," she said softly. "I am."

The warrior smiled slightly, jerking her head in the direction of the recently abandoned hotel. "C’mon. Let’s get inside where it’s warmer." As she strode casually from the small wood, Xena felt some of the edgy tension mellow within her. The energy was still there, but it had been harnessed to a somewhat more manageable level. The smile bloomed again, taking on a slightly evil cast as she thought about the night ahead. Maybe some of Calladosi’s men will stick true to form. I could use a good fight right about now.

 

The rest of the day was spent companionably, Sara watching every snippet of news she could, waiting for word of the missing policemen or the park’s invasion. The second story never came. Apparently, Calladosi’s men were more adept at cleaning up after themselves than in eliminating a rather frustrating Mafia wife and her dark haired protector. The two missing policemen were the top news story of the day but so far, there were no leads. The Mayor was asking anyone who witnessed anything to please step forward. Sara looked over at Xena, watching as the warrior shook her head in the negative once. With a sigh, the young woman went back to watching the television. After a long moment, she turned her attention back to the engrossed warrior. "Xena?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think they have families?"

"Who, Sara?" Xena asked, not diverting her attention from her study of the blueprints of the interior of Calladosi’s mansion.

"Those two policemen."

"I s’ppose."

"Do you think they’ll miss them? Wonder where they are? It’s almost Christmas. Maybe they had children. Do you think?"

With a sigh and a slight roll of her eyes, Xena turned her attention to Sara. "They probably should have thought about that before kidnapping and assaulting us, Sara," she said patiently. "And I highly doubt that we were the first."

The red/gold head nodded. "I know. Still, if they do have kids, they shouldn’t have to pay for the sins of their fathers, should they?"

"They’re already paying." When the green eyes would not leave hers, Xena sighed again, propping her elbows against the chair back as she stretched out her long legs. "What would you have me do, Sara? I killed a police officer! I can’t very well protect you if I’m sitting in some prison cell."

"You didn’t mean to, though! It was self defense!"

"You forget who we’re talking about here. These are the same people who turned you in to Calladosi’s thugs when you called for help."

"I haven’t forgotten, Xena. But it’s Christmas. And their families . . . ."

"Oh alright," the warrior replied, pushing herself up off the chair and rising to her feet in a graceful, almost feline movement. "I’ll have Jarrod place an anonymous call into the Mayor’s office. Will that do?"

Sara grinned, the brightness of her smile seeming to light up the room. "Thanks, Xena. You’re the greatest."

"Yeah, well don’t go spreading that around, ok?"

Still grinning, the young woman made a crossing gesture over her heart and went back to watching the television, her countenance and mood much brighter than before.

 

As daylight passed into dusk, Xena excused herself from the room and stepped into the bathroom to shower and change. Quickly pulling on black pants, a black turtleneck and black boots, she returned to the main room, finishing off the tight braid that bound her hair, looking every inch the lethal predator she was. The startling blue of her eyes was the only point of color on the woman and they were made all the more vivid because of it.

"Wow," Sara commented from her place on the bed. "I wouldn’t want to meet up with you in a dark alley."

Xena favored her companion with a slight smile. "Be glad we’re fighting on the same side, then."

Sara’s sharp retort was interrupted, in utero, by a sharp knock to the door. Instinctively, she stood to answer when Xena’s strong hand curled itself around her bicep, sending her in the opposite direction.

"In the bathroom," the warrior ordered, whispering as she headed toward the door.

Nodding, Sara did as she was bade, a stab of fear twisting itself through her belly as she slipped behind the partially opened door, leaving it open just enough to peer through with one eye set against the wooden frame.

The knock sounded sharply again as the tall warrior bent slightly to look through the tiny peep hole. A moment later, she relaxed, unbolting the door and flinging it open wide, a beaming, welcoming smile wreathing her face. "Jarrod," she said in her husky voice. "Good to see you again, my friend."

The man stepped through the door and, to Sara’s great surprise, engulfed Xena in a massive bear hug, almost lifting her off her feet. "Bluu jicho. You’re a sight for sore eyes." Kissing her soundly, the huge man set the warrior down and turned, grinning, to where Sara stood. "You must be Sara," he said in a musical, lilting voice.

The young blonde’s voice left her as she stared. Jarrod was one of the largest and certainly most handsome men she had ever seen. His ebony skin was so black it shone almost blue under in the room’s subdued lighting. His body appeared well muscled and she guessed his height at over six and a half feet tall, dwarfing even the very tall warrior standing beside him. His teeth were a brilliant, blinding white that contrasted startlingly with his midnight skin and his smile lit up his face, crinkling the corners of his gentle brown eyes.

"She is," Xena spoke for her, resisting the urge to snap her fingers in front of the wide, staring eyes. Smirking slightly, the warrior closed the distance between them and gently guided Sara back into the room. "Sara, this is Jarrod. Jarrod, Sara."

"A pleasure to meet you, Sara," Jarrod said, holding out a huge hand in the frozen woman’s direction.

Jade eyes blinked once, twice, and the young woman seemed to come back into herself, flushing slightly. "I’m sorry. I’m pleased to meet you too." Smiling, she took the proffered hand and felt its tender, warm grip as it gently engulfed her own.

The two broke apart after a moment, turning as one to watch as Xena wrapped a thick belt around her narrow waist. Attached to the belt were several nylon pouches and she shifted it to settle the material comfortably around her body. Reaching into one of the satchels, the warrior withdrew several small metal discs, each wrapped in anti-static material. These she slipped into her belt pouches, zipping them back up and resettling the whole rig yet again.

Her hand disappearing again into the luggage, Xena pulled out a snub-nosed .38 which she tucked into the waistband at her back. Slipping into her duster, the warrior eyed her two companions. "Can I trust the two of you to behave while I’m gone?" she asked, a teasing glint in her steel blue eyes, one arched eyebrow disappearing beneath ebony bangs.

"I’ll be the perfect gentleman, bluu jicho," Jarrod commented, grinning.

"That’s what I’m afraid of."

Laughing, the large man tossed the warrior a set of keys. "The yellow Sting-Ray."

"Ahhh, my favorite." She dropped a subtle wink to her blonde companion. "Behave. I’ll be back soon."

"Be careful, Xena," Sara replied.

"Always." With a feral grin, she was gone.

 

Pulling the canary yellow Sting-Ray to the curb behind a line of other expensive automobiles, Xena stepped out and locked the door carefully behind her. She smiled at the turn of luck. There was obviously some type of holiday party going on in the neighborhood and her car would not be as out of place here as it would have been parked on an otherwise empty street. The line of cars extended to the bottom of the long hill, with Calladosi’s mansion being at the top.

Settling her heavy coat around her shoulders, the warrior proceeded up the hill at a brisk walk, looking for all the world like a young socialite working off a large pre-holiday feast. Keeping up her quick, long-limbed stride, Xena powered past Calladosi’s home, her eyes darting to the top of the massive rock fence, noting the positions of the cameras sitting atop the corner posts. Slipping along the wall to the far side of the estate, Xena ducked into the neighboring yard, coming to a halt at the gnarled base of a huge oak whose thick limbs thrust themselves conveniently over the Calladosi property.

Reaching into the pocket of her duster, the warrior pulled out a black ski-type mask and slipped it down over her head, effectively disguising her features. Then she slipped off her coat, folding it carefully and tucking it against the roots at the base of the tree. Then, with a powerful flexing of her legs, Xena leapt soundlessly onto one stout limb high above the rock wall, bracing herself against the thick trunk of the ancient oak. Her keen eyes peered through the darkness, noting the location of each guard as they patrolled the exterior of the mansion.

She stayed there for some time, nestled against the tree’s rough bark, watching the patrol patterns of the guards. Satisfied at what she saw, the warrior stepped off the branch, silently landing on the other side of the wall, keeping close to the chilled rocks so as to escape the detection of the ever-vigilant cameras. A low bristling growl came slightly to her left and Xena looked in that direction, spotting three canines loping toward her, white fangs bared. Drawing herself up to her full height, Xena employed one of her old mentor’s tricks, staring at the alpha unwaveringly. With a soft whine, he sat, then laid down, his mates following suit, all looking up at her adoringly. "Good boys," she whispered. "Remind me to get you a treat from the kitchen later." Three tails wagged happily at her statement.

Nodding once, she left the dogs, stealthily moving along the perimeter of the property, keeping to the dark shadows cast by the wall and the numerous trees growing on both sides of it. Her eyes darted back and forth between the guards and the mounted cameras, freezing in place when the attention of either was directed her way.

Long moments later, she found herself at the more sparsely guarded rear of the house. Looking up, she spied the large balcony from which she would make her entrance into the mansion. After checking to make sure she was unobserved, Xena took several running steps towards the house and then leapt, turning once in a tight tuck and landing neatly on the large escarpment, flattening herself quickly to the chilled flooring as she peered intently through the wood and glass doors.

The guest bedroom was empty and she breathed a bit easier, leaping quickly to her feet and approaching the doors noiselessly. As with all the other balcony doors, these were not set with alarms and she smirked at the arrogance of the Mafia lord. Reaching into her belt pouch, Xena removed a thin lock pick and set to work. Within a few seconds, a soft click was heard and the tall warrior opened the door and let herself in, closing and locking the door behind her.

Treading quickly and soundlessly through the thickly carpeted, garishly adorned room, she reached the door that led to the hallway, pressing her ear against it, listening for movement. When silence greeted her sensitive hearing, she eased the door open and peered down the corridor, eyes sweeping its length and breadth. Satisfied that she was, for the moment, alone, she squeezed through the barely opened door and started down the long hallway, keeping very close to the hideously papered walls. Her long strides ate up the distance and she quickly approached the intersection. Marble stairs leading down to the first level curved around in a U before reaching the floor. The railing was matching marble with a hideously worked lion perched on the balustrade. Someone should really give this guy some decorating tips.

Peering down the brightly lit stairwell, she could hear the crackling of a fire, some brash conversation and the muted click of pool balls as they were chased around the table. The air from the first floor was scented with a curious combination of wood and cigar smoke with a hint of pine.

The warrior breathed deep of it before darting her eyes down the hallway. Her luck was continuing to hold. After checking the stairwell once more, Xena darted across it, flattening herself against the wall again once she had crossed. Looking up, she took note of the highly polished ceiling beams and the canopy of stars that shown down through the vaulted skylights which decorated the ceiling every ten feet.

Suddenly she heard the murmuring of voices and the loud tread of booted feet coming in her direction. Uttering a curse under her breath, she jumped, catching hold of one of the beams and swinging her weight atop it, anchoring herself firmly in place with one arm.

"I dunno Charlie." one of the suit-encased men said as he turned into the far hallway, eyes looking around for any disturbance, "Ya know, Sheila's one hot babe but she belongs to the boss."

"Yeah, I know but a guy can dream, can't he?"

"Dream hisself right into a 6 foot hole."

"Okay, okay. I get your message. How 'bout that one bitch the boss is looking for. Joseph's old lady?" he asked as they made their way down the hall, checking each door to make sure it was locked.

"Who? Sara??" the goon grinned, revealing teeth that were chipped and yellow, "Yeah. Now her I wouldn't mind going a round or two with especially if she was fighting a bit, ya know?"

Both laughed as they turned the far corner on the circuit and long legs slowly unfolded from the ceiling in the hallway as Xena lowered herself from one of the beams. Even at her 6 foot length, the floor was still half again that distance away. Snarling in the direction of the two guards, she released her grip and dropped soundlessly into a crouch on the hardwood floor, looking very much like a jungle cat on the hunt.

Straightening up, the warrior quickly made her way down to one of the multitude of doors lining the hallway. Unlike the others, which were made of solid wood, this had a large glass insert with heavy wire crisscrossing through it. Peering inside from her position flat against the wall, she noted with no small satisfaction that the guard was fast asleep, his feet propped up on the small desk in front of him. Makes it all the more easy for me.

Quickly jimmying the room’s lock open, Xena slipped inside, striding to the stuporous guard, smirking. "Sleep tight," she snarled, insuring her statement with a quick right cross to the jaw. Her strong grip kept the man from falling out of his chair.

After making sure the guard would stay put and unconscious for a good while, the warrior set out to work. Scanning the room, her eyes lit upon the large bank of video monitors that dominated one entire wall of the room. Looking around, she assured herself that this particular room did not have a hidden camera poised anywhere recording her movements.

With a grunt of satisfaction, she turned away from the unconscious guard and headed toward the video monitors, eyes taking in the audio panel and small microphone that sat in the middle of the long ledge that ran along the wall. Pulling out a tiny screw-driver, Xena removed the audio panel and carefully examined the snarl of wires exposed to her view. Selecting two, she separated them with her fingers while her other hand reached into the belt pouch and came out with one of the listening devices. With easy, practiced movements, the warrior worked the intricate circuitry, connecting the bug to the two wires and stuffing the whole snarled mess back into its hole.

Screwing the panel back together, she looked up at the monitors yet again, gaze freezing on one image. Tapping a button on the audio keyboard, she increased the volume slightly, listening intently.

Lips curling in disdain, she watched Calladosi heave and pant atop the body of an amply endowed blonde. To the blonde's credit, she was doing a fair approximation of ecstasy but the sheen in her eyes was more of coke than copulation.

Xena leaned back on her heels, watching the monitor screen intently. As she thought, it didn't take Calladosi long to finish. He rolled off the blonde and sat on the edge of the bed, his pudgy, hideously pale legs barely touching the floor.

"That was soooo great, honey." the blonde simpered, flipping her hair back and sitting up on the opposite side of the bed, her large breasts swaying not one iota. Wonder how much that little enhancement set you back? The surgically altered blonde opened a drawer of the nightstand and pulled out a mirror, taking only a moment to snort one of the lines that were already cut.

"Ahhh, how would you know, you fuckin' broad." Calladosi lit a cigarette, "As long as you have that damn powder, you'd fuck a dog if I told you to."

"Yeah, well at least I get something out of fucking you, big man." Bending over once again, the woman snorted another line, wiping the powder off her nose with a dainty swipe of her tissue. "All you can do is close your eyes and pretend you’re screwin Joey’s wife."

The sound of Calladosi’s palm impacting the blonde’s jaw cracked through the speaker like a rifle shot, causing Xena’s eyes to narrow dangerously. I am gonna get so much pleasure out of ripping your head off, you slimy little toad.

"I told you never to mention that traitor’s name in this house again, you fucking bitch!" Calladosi’s face was brick red and the vein in his neck throbbed quickly. With a titanic shove, he pushed the blonde woman out of the bed, standing up and kicking her hard on the backside. "Now get the fuck outta my sight, whore. And don’t come back or I’ll rip those fucking tits open and shove them bags down your throat. Got me?"

The coked-up blonde giggled, grabbing her clothes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. This time tomorrow you’ll be begging me to come back." Cackling in drug induced glee, she fled the room before the irate man could connect with her benumbed body once again.

Reaching out, Xena turned down the sound, her eyes still slitted. Better get done and get outta here before I wind up doing something I’ll regret later. Slipping her body under the long ledge, she easily located the phone jack and unscrewed the protective plate. Grabbing another bug, she quickly attached it to the phone wires and replaced the covering, slipping the screwdriver back into her pouch and rising to her feet once again.

Slipping from the room, she quickly retraced her route, finding herself back out on the balcony in a matter of minutes. After checking to be sure she was unobserved, Xena leapt from the parapet, landing easily on the ground and darting across the vast expanse of lawn to the high wall. Without breaking stride, she hopped effortlessly over the wall and strode to the base of the tree, where she retrieved her duster and slipped it on, removing the ski mask and shoving it into her pocket.

Minutes later, she was back in her car, pulling away from the scene of her crime, smiling ferally, her body awash with energy.

 

As Xena stepped into the hotel room, Jarrod rose to greet her, his welcoming smile blinding against the flawless ebony of his skin. "It’s about time you made it back. I was beginning to get worried." His Swahili accent sounded musically in her ears.

"Worried? About me? Please, Jarrod, show some sense."

The tall African took her hand and led her to the chair, easing her down into it. "I’m afraid it’s part of the job, my friend. Worrying and Jarrod go hand in hand. Did everything go as planned?"

"Yes. All planted and working. You’ll be able to scan to your heart’s content." She smirked. "Though you’re liable wind up with an earful if the mike to Calladosi’s private quarters is turned up."

Jarrod issued the blinding smile again. "Ah, you always know how to treat a man well, Xena. Making sure that stake-out duty is filled with pleasant diversions. It’s only one of the things I like about you."

The warrior smiled slightly, white teeth flashing in the dim lighting of the room. "Hold that thought. I need to change out of these clothes. Make yourself comfortable."

Within moments she was changed, slipping on a soft cotton shirt and a pair of well-worn jeans. Easing back into the room, she sprawled into the large, overstuffed chair behind which Jarrod was standing.

His huge, strong hands descended onto her taut shoulders, digging into the bands of muscle. "Was it bad?"

"Let’s just say I heard some things that wound me up a bit." As she relaxed into the massage, Xena nodded her head in the direction of the bed. "Quiet night?"

"Very. We had a little dinner and watched some forgettable movie. She went right out after that. Doesn’t talk much, does she."

Xena suppressed a bark of laughter. "You don’t know her very well. She could talk Nigel out of his computer and have him enjoy it every step of the way."

"You sound smitten, my friend."

"Let’s just say that she reminds me of someone and leave it at that."

"As you say, my goddess."

Jarrod was rewarded with a smack to his chest. "Cut the crap, my friend. More magic fingers, less talk."

The tall man continued his massage, humming an old tribal tune as he worked. Within moments, Xena’s head lolled back against his lower abdomen. "It’s good to know I’ve still got your number, Xena," he teased, squatting down behind her and brushing raven tresses from one angled cheek. "You always were a sucker for a good backrub."

"Yeah. That and a good . . . ." her voice trailed off, knowing Jarrod would follow her train of thought effortlessly.

His laughter vibrated gently against her cheek. "Ah yes. I seem to remember one following the other quite frequently. Is that what you would wish for tonight, my friend?" The question was softly asked.

Cutting a quick glance to the figure sprawled out on the bed next to her, Xena worried her lower lip, then nodded. "I think I would," she replied quietly, feeling the man’s hands stroking gentle patterns in her hair. She and Jarrod, bound by a deep friendship, shared their bodies frequently, without reservation or remorse. Each was inextricably bound to another, kept by circumstance apart from their souls’ mates, and in times of sadness or tension, they often turned to one another to push the loneliness back, if even for a brief moment. Xena knew she had to do something to ease the sexual tension pervading her body in exponential leaps since she’d first set her gaze upon the woman who shared the likeness to her heart’s twin. In her own way, she loved Jarrod, his outer beauty and inner gentleness drew her in and held her close.

"I would like that as well, bluu jicho," Jarrod responded, laying a gentle kiss on one smooth cheek as he grazed the back of one long finger from the hollow of her throat, up her long neck, to her jaw. "Your beauty still captivates me as none other’s can." His strong white teeth captured an earlobe and he began to suckle gently as his hands moved slowly over her shirt, sliding down to gently cup full breasts, hands squeezing and releasing the firm mounds.

Xena leaned her head against his broad, well muscled shoulder, giving him full access to her body, breath coming in quiet moans as he further stimulated her already sensitive nerve-endings.

"You are so responsive tonight, my goddess," Jarrod whispered as he unbuttoned her cotton shirt, slipping his warm hands inside, teasing and stroking her nipples to full arousal.

"You feel so good," the warrior whispered.

"As do you, my friend. All warm flesh and hard muscle. You are a soothing balm to my aching hands. Let me worship at your temple, Allah a bluu jicho. Allow me the miracle of your pleasure." Laying gentle kisses on Xena’s cheeks and neck, Jarrod worked his way around to the front of the seated warrior, coming to kneel between her spread thighs.

Xena ran her short, blunt fingernails over his shaved skull as the ebony-skinned man suckled at her heavy breasts, sending a resounding warmth through her loins. Arching her long back, she offered more of herself to him, clasping his head to her chest as he nipped at her tenderly engorged skin.

His hands trailed down her sides, leaving humped gooseflesh in their wake, to dip into the waistband of her dark jeans. Strong fingers pried stubborn buttons open and long thumbs hooked through denim belt loops to slide the fabric over her hips and down along long, muscled legs.

Jarrod replaced his mouth with his hands, still fondling her breasts, handling her more roughly as he knew she enjoyed as his full lips and sharp teeth led a trail down over her ribbed abdomen, pausing briefly to delve into the navel, before continuing to the nest of dark curls that awaited his attentions.

Inhaling deeply, his mouth split with a broad grin. "Ahhh, bluu jicho, you smell as sweet as ever." He chuckled as he felt Xena’s strong arms forcing his head downward. "As impatient as ever too, my friend. I’m happy to know that some things do not change with you."

"Less talk, more action, angu eusi simba."

True to his nickname, the large African growled, displaying his fangs, then lowered his head to feed upon his goddess.

Xena’s hips jerked sharply upward at the first touch of his tongue on her. When his mouth engulfed her heated center, his tongue beginning a teasing dance over needy flesh, the warrior threw back her head, her eyelids tightly clenched, her hands white-knuckled as they grasped the edges of the chair, digging into the ersatz leather. A low hissing moan sprung forth from between gritted teeth. "Ingine, eusi simba," she moaned softly, hips rocking in tandem with his questing tongue. "Ingine. Mpindani, ingine.''

Giving in to the warrior's calls for 'more', Jarrod dedicated himself to the task of giving Xena pleasure. His lips and tongue worked in perfect tandem as his large hands moved from her breasts to her waist, seducing every bared inch of skin on her sweating torso. As he felt her strong, callused hands grasp around his head, the African gently bit down, the very tip of his tongue beating a staccato tattoo where she was the most engorged.

"Hicho kuwa yeye, angu simba. Allah, hicho kuwa yeye." Her thighs clamped tight around his dark head as the world around her exploded into brilliant pinpoints of bright light. Grabbing tight, Xena held on, her voice forced down into a throaty growl, "Gabrielle," she whispered hoarsely into the darkness of the room. "Gabrielle."

Jarrod lifted up as soon as he was able, smothering the weeping woman in a strong, loving embrace. "Shhh, bluu jicho, shhhh. I know, my friend. She’s here. She loves you. Shhh. It’s alright. Please don’t cry. Shhh. Please."

Embarrassment over perceived weakness coupled with innate rage over the loss of her beloved fueled Xena’s next actions. Pushing against the strong man, she grasped his broad shoulders, her lips twisted into a snarl. "Angu geuka, angu simba." Her eyes sparkling and feral, she used her great strength to push the African back away from her, bearing him down to lay flat upon the hard ground.

'My turn', indeed, Jarrod thought as her hands roughly pulled his shirt up over his chest. He bit back a moan as sharp teeth raked over his nipples. He knew her anger was not with him but with the circumstances of her life, a life he knew well, for he shared a longing to be reunited with one who was no longer of this world.

He remained passive as strong hands fumbled with his belt and undid his pants, yanking them down while lifting his heavy body as if he weighed no more than a child. Closing his eyes against the intensity in hers, he resolved to give her, if not what she craved, then at least what she could use.

Xena looked down at the prize she had uncovered, the snarl still in place upon her lips. He was thick of girth and long of length. He would fill her completely, leaving no space untouched, no emptiness to mourn. He would give her the pain she needed to absolve her timeless guilt, if not for eternity, at least for a short span of moments. She would take what she needed from him, and he would succor her.

Without a thought to gentleness, she grasped him fully, guiding him into her and sliding down until he was fully engulfed by her essence. The pain of over-stressed tissue shot down the insides of her thighs and she welcomed the penance, feeling him throbbing and hot deep within her.

"Allah, bluu jicho. You feel so good around me, so tight and warm. So soft." His hands moved to her tapered waist as he felt her begin to move upon him. The pain in his face mirrored her own as he bit his lip to keep from issuing forth into her.

 

Sara awoke to the sounds of faint murmuring and the whisper of fabric over skin. Opening her

eyes in the darkness, her attention was captured by the outline of what could only be Xena kneeling on the ground next to the bed. Still in a sleepy haze, her eyes tracked the woman as she slowly rose, then lowered herself back onto the ground. The sounds became a bit louder and Sara's eyes widened. What the- What's she doing? Oh my God. . .she isn't! Is she?

The young woman went stock still. Trying not to even breath, she wanted to close her eyes but was fascinated and couldn't tear her gaze away. Holding as still as possible, she watched. Xena was hunched over slightly, moving slowly at first. The darkness made it hard to see but Sara could make out the muted glow of a white shirt hanging open off the woman's shoulders.

Large masculine hands disappeared slowly into the opened shirt. It didn't take much of Sara's imagination to guess what those hands were doing and, gauging by Xena's reaction, her friend was enjoying the attention immensely. The dark head was thrown back, bearing a long expanse of her elegant neck. Her mouth was slightly parted and a hiss of excitement issued forth on a full breath. The white shirt bulged and smoothed with Jarrod's actions. Xena's movements quickened.

Sara caught her breath and found herself clenching thighs and fists under the blanket. She never played voyeur before. Try as she might, though, she couldn't take her eyes off of the site on the floor. The rocking motions, the chest heaving as the breath came faster, the mouth parted and the muscles clenched and working were hypnotizingly erotic. Oh sweet Jesus, she silently moaned, resisting with everything she had the urge to squirm on the bed. She desperately willed her eyes to close, but they wouldn’t listen to her brain’s stern commands. Oh please let this be a dream. Please let this be a dream.

The tandem moans coming from the floor beneath her let Sara know that her prayer had gone unanswered. Ok, Sara, get a grip. You’re watching a woman who you’re unexpectedly attracted to having sex with someone else right next to you. It’s not like something like this happens every day, right? Just close your eyes and try to get back to sleep.

Another long moan issued forth and she almost snorted. Yeah. Right.

Grasping handfuls of muscled chest, Xena increased the force of her thrusts onto Jarrod’s rigidity. Her teeth were bared in a snarl as beads of sweat dripped from her forehead onto his own sweat-slicked skin. She felt as his hands left her breasts to grasp her around the waist, adding his own strength to hers as he groaned low in his throat.

As she used her own actions to push her needy body up to the pinnacle of oblivion, the warrior chanced to turn her head just slightly and found herself locked into a wide-eyed gaze. Oh shit. The thought came too late, however, as, with one final thrust, Jarrod exploded within her, causing her answering detonation. She fell into Sara’s eyes as spasms wracked her body.

After a long moment, the spell shattered and Xena bowed her head, the long locks of her sweat-damp hair trailing over Jarrod’s extremely sensitized skin.

Sara came back into herself with a rush, a red blush of embarrassment replacing the one of desire. Squeezing her eyes shut, she turned away from the pair, facing the wall and trying mightily to control the throbbing in her core. Her heart thundered in her ears and her body became wracked with uncontrollable shivering.

Xena noted the actions and resisted the urge to comfort the trembling woman as a strong, stinging wave of self-disgust ran through her body. You had to do it, didn’t you. Couldn’t control your lust, could you. You haven’t grown. You’ve regressed. Welcome back, Warrior Princess. You’re pathetic.

Jarrod noticed the change through his sated state and looked up, following Xena’s gaze to the bed. Spying the huddled, shivering figure, his eyes widened and he turned back to meet Xena’s hard stare.

The warrior nodded, her face set in grim, determined lines.

"I’m sorry," he whispered. "Perhaps it’s best if I left now."

Nodding again, Xena rose away from him, standing and helping to pull Jarrod to his feet.

The African blushed slightly, his ebony skin turning still darker as he fumbled with his clothing, stepping toward the doorway without bothering to put his boots back on. "I’m sorry," he whispered again, one hand on the doorknob.

"It’s not your fault," Xena replied in a low tone. "It’s mine."

"Don’t blame yourself, Xena. You couldn’t have known . . . ."

The warrior stopped him with an upraised hand. "Don’t, Jarrod. Not now. Just . . .go, ok?"

"I will, my friend. Take care of yourself, ok?"

Her face softened just slightly. "I’ll try. You too." Raising her head, she placed a gentle kiss on his lips. "Thanks."

"Always," he replied, smiling slightly. "Goodbye, bluu jicho."

The door closed softly behind him and Xena turned to face the huddled figure, her face a mask of tragedy. Now what, Warrior Princess? Do you think sorry is going to make up for this??

Reluctantly, Xena made her way silently towards the bed. Sara's body was far too tense to be asleep. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she reached on and placed her hand on Sara's shoulder, "Sara?" There was no answer. Quietly, Xena sighed, "Sara I know you're awake."

"So? That didn't stop you before," was the bitter reply.

"No. It didn't." Wonderful, you're just making things all better, aren't you? "Sara, look at me."

Sara shift underneath the blanket, her fists closed tighter on the fabric she was clenching, "No. I don't think so."

"Sara." Xena put pressure on the shoulder, forcing Sara onto her back. The woman rolled over in response but her eyes were squeezed shut. Damn it, Gabrielle. Did she have to be as stubborn as you too? "Sara, look at me." Xena forced the last word through gritted teeth. "Please."

Sara blinked more in surprise than anything else. But the minute her eyes opened, she regretted it. The tall woman still only wore that white shirt and it was still hanging open. Sara felt the rush of heat spreading out from her center again and she snapped, "Fine. I'm looking at you. Do you want to show off now?"

"No."

"Good. Cause you already did enough of that!" Sara tried to roll back on her side but the hand on her shoulder kept her in position.

"Gabri. . ." Xena saw the green eyes turn hard at those syllables. Oh beautiful, Xena. Have you been practicing at being a fool when I wasn't looking? "Sara. Look."

"Oh I looked alright." Sara cut in, angrily, "That's what you wanted, wasn't it?"

An answering fury started rising in the warrior as well and those blue eyes flashed a deeper colder color suddenly, "You didn't seem to mind all that much a little while ago either, Sara." Great, get defensive. It’s what you’re best at these days, isn’t it.

Sara's face went bright red. No, she didn't mind watching. It was that, more than anything that bothered her. Her fury boiled over at herself and the tall woman hovering over her, still nude as if she never had a moment's care about decency. Sara pushed up and swung an arm out with everything she had.

The jar and sting traveled up her arm as Xena caught her wrist and held it. "Let go!" Sara demanded, furiously struggling.

"Sara." Xena leaned down closer, she could see tears of frustration tracking down the pale cheeks. More gently, she went on, "Sara, I know it doesn't help but I am sorry. Not for what happened but because it upsets you so much."

"Let. . .Me. . .Go!" Sara shrieked. Her hair was in wild disarray around her face and she tried to wrench her wrist free. Her arm suddenly swung clear as Xena released her and stood, walking away to stand by the window.

For a long span of moments, all was quiet in the small room. Xena stared out the window at the star-speckled sky, wondering again how things just had a way of turning suddenly wrong with her. The smell of sexual excitement permeated the air around her and for the first time in her life, the warrior felt repulsed by it. She wanted nothing more than to run into the bathroom and wash the scent of her transgression from her body. But she knew that action would not erase the situation she found herself in and so she did nothing, content to wait and stare out into the winter night until Sara’s breathing told her that her young companion had drifted back to sleep.

The warrior resisted the urge to fidget as she felt a strong stare bore into the nerve endings of her back. She bit back a sigh as she realized that this standoff could last the entire night, or what was left of it. Xena had laid a few sieges in her time and had an almost infinite capacity for the patience required to wait them out. Without fail, the other side always crumbled. So why was she the one aching to fill the void of silence? "I don’t know what more you want me to say, Sara," she said finally, still peering out the window into the darkness beyond. "It was just something that happened. I didn’t mean for you to wake up. Especially not then."

"You should have thought about that before you started then, huh?"

At this, Xena turned, her pale blue eyes pinning the young woman to the bed. "Perhaps." Her voice was very soft, almost menacing. "Nevertheless, it’s in the past now. What’s done is done and can’t be changed." Her voice dropped to a mere whisper. "No matter how much I might wish it to be."

"Could you at least tell me why?"

Xena threw her arms up, then let them fall. "I had a need. He filled it." Short, sweet and unembroidered.

"But why him?" The soft sound of sheets rustling was heard as Sara sat up in the bed. "I mean, I know he’s gorgeous and all, and I know you guys have been friends for a long time, but . . . ."

With a few long strides, Xena was at the bed looking down at the confused young woman. "But what?" Her tone was gentle.

Sara was silent for a long moment, her hands plucking idly at the sheet wadded around her. When she looked up, her jade eyes were pleading. "In that clearing today, something . . .happened . . .between us. And I don’t want you to try and lie to me and tell me that it didn’t."

"I’m not going to tell you that, Sara."

"Good. Because we both know it wouldn’t be true." Reaching one arm upwards, Sara clamped down on the wrist of the warrior and drew her down to sit on the bed beside her. "Xena, I could have given you what you needed today. I wanted to. . .give you that." She looked down at the sheet. "But you wouldn’t let me." Looked back up again. "Why wouldn’t you let me, Xena?"

The warrior pulled her hand away from the insistent grip. "I told you why already."

"And what makes Jarrod so different?"

Xena sighed and ran a hand through her tousled hair. "I love Jarrod, make no mistake of that. But he’s not . . . ."

"He’s not Gabrielle. That’s it, isn’t it." Sara shifted again. "Damnit, Xena. Neither am I!"

"You’re . . .different, Sara. Jarrod is Jarrod, but you, you could be her twin. If I gave in to my feelings, I’d be doing it for the wrong reasons. And that just isn’t my style. Not anymore." Turning to face the young woman fully, Xena lifted a hand and caressed one smooth cheek with the back of it. "Each time I look at you, I see her. And if I were to make love to you, it would be her eyes I would see and her body I would feel. And that isn’t fair. To either of us. I won’t use you like that, Sara."

"But aren’t you using Jarrod?"

The corner of Xena’s mouth turned up in a crooked smile. "Oh yeah, I’m usin’ him alright. The difference is, he’s using me too. We both have people we can’t be with anymore. And when we come together, it fills up a little piece of that hole in us. For a little while, anyway."

After a long moment, the blonde head nodded. "I think I understand." She looked up at Xena shyly. "I might not be able to give you what you need in that way, but I can give you a warm body to hold. Would you stay here with me tonight?"

The warrior’s heart tugged and, to her great surprise, she felt an upwelling of tears that threatened to spill over onto her cheeks. "I’d like that," she said hoarsely. "Very much."

Smiling, Sara pulled back the covers as Xena swung her body into the bed. Stretching out, she opened the woman’s shirt and rested her head on the warm chest bared to her. One arm went around a muscled waist and one leg draped itself across a strong thigh. The warrior’s warmth drew her in and she sighed in contentment, listening to the strongly beating heart beneath her ear.

Xena’s hand came up to tangle in Sara’s hair and she turned her face to inhale deeply of the fragrant strands. Her lids grew heavy and she felt herself, quite against her will, slipping into Morpheus’ strong embrace.

 

The next several days were relaxing ones for the pair. Though the incident with Jarrod was never again mentioned, it seemed to be a catalyst of sorts that lead to a more relaxed companionship between the two. As an added bonus, the bugs Xena had planted were functioning perfectly and a great deal of pressure was eased off the broad shoulders of the Warrior Princess.

So glad was she for the respite and the more relaxed state of her companion, that Sara boldly stated that she had had enough of being cooped up in hovels and insisted on going sightseeing and taking her protector with her.

Loathe to defend against the determined glint in the young blonde’s eyes, Xena reluctantly allowed herself to be pulled away from her computer work and, as her companion put it, ‘let her hair down’.

The days and evenings were filled with travel from one point of interest to another. Constitution Hall, the Liberty Bell, and Betsy Ross’ house all fell victim to typhoon Sara. Xena often found herself biting the inside of her lip as she listened to her companion expound on yet another obscure historic fact of the places they visited. Many times, it was on the tip of the warrior’s tongue to tell the young woman that she was in a unique position to understand histories’ events, since she had been alive to witness many of them firsthand. Exposing her Immortality to her companion was not something she was prepared to do, however, and so she remained stoically silent, pretending interest in Sara’s sometimes skewed version of events.

For herself, Sara was feeling more light-hearted than she had in months, happily towing her taciturn companion through the myriad of exhibits which had fascinated her immediately upon setting down in this historical city.

A trip to the Art Museum, upon whose many steps the fictional character "Rocky" had run to glory, and an evening stroll along the river to view the lighted beauty of Boathouse Row topped the list as far as the young woman was concerned. As far as oases in the desert of insanity went, these were good ones.

The only bleak spot in an otherwise wonderful time was when Sara had convinced Xena to drive down to the Jersey Shore for a day. It had been sunny and unseasonably warm, perfect for beachcombing, provided one stayed well away from the chilled waters of the icy surf. After digging out yet another well hidden clam, the young woman chanced to look towards the ocean, frozen by the beautiful, yet melancholy scene she beheld.

Xena was standing near the crashing waves, looking across the wide vista of blue-green waters, her jet black hair whipping back in inky tendrils away from her face, borne away by the strong shore breeze. Like a timeless statue she stood, her body never moving, her feet planted strongly in the ever-shifting sands.

Sara didn’t need vision to know that an expression of frozen misery was bound across those striking features. After a few moments, she dropped her liberated clamshell with the others and rose, dusting the fine grains of sand from her clothes as she made her way to where the warrior stood, still peering out over the vast ocean. "Xena?" she said quietly, standing close enough to touch, but not.

The warrior turned her head in Sara’s direction slowly, not bothering to clear her distraught expression before turning her gaze back to the empty sea.

Breathing deep of the salty air, Sara reached out a tentative hand, slipping it down Xena’s leathered arm until she found the tightly clenched fist, the flesh beneath her fingers cold as ice. With patience, she gently pried the fist open, lacing her fingers between the warrior’s much longer ones and squeezing slightly, warming the callused palm.

Xena squeezed back, almost convulsively, but Sara bore the pain willingly, relieved to have gotten any reaction from the seemingly immobilized woman. Xena turned her head again, her face a tableau of unrelieved tragedy. "Let’s go," she said in a voice barely heard over the crashing waves and the howling wind.

The two turned as one, striding away from the desolate ocean, holding hands until they reached the car.

 

The warrior’s dour mood had improved considerably when Sara suggested that they head on over to Pat’s and scarf down some cheese-steaks. It was over dripping steaks that the warrior casually mentioned a wish for some real Greek food.

With a grin, Sara commented that if her companion could find a hotel with a kitchenette, she would make the best lamb-stuffed grape leaves her friend had tasted since she emigrated from the Greece.

Smiling, the warrior took the young woman up on her challenge, promising to find just such a spot the next morning. Their bellies full, the pair traveled back to their temporary quarters, content in each other’s company.

 

Sara was lulled awake by a sound that, though she’d never heard it before, struck something deep within her, causing a smile to come unbidden to her lips. Cracking her eyes open just slightly, the young blonde looked through long lashes to where Xena sat, dragging a stone down the length of her sword. Unobserved, Sara watched the scene with a sense of deep contentment, allowing the somehow comforting sounds to ease her back into sleep.

 

The dream started out echoing the one she had had several nights before. She found herself sitting in the gentle glade watching Xena as she practiced with her sword. The blade was almost invisible is it twirled and slashed, it’s polished metal occasionally catching the weak winter sun and reflecting it into Sara’s eyes.

As she put a hand up to protect her vision from the sun’s flashes, the young woman felt a bolt of pain radiate out from her shoulder and the dream vision changed. She found herself lying on her back atop heavy fur blankets. She appeared to be in a structure resembling a barn and the smell of old hay and dust tickled her sinuses. Fire radiated though her suddenly weak body and her lungs felt full and heavy with fluid.

Hearing a small sound, she looked through the darkness and saw Xena approaching her, wearing an outfit of leather an brass that, though quite revealing, seemed to fit her as if she were born to it.. Xena’s sword hilt peeped up over the warrior’s right shoulder and a round disc hung from the waist of her outfit.

As Xena came to sit beside her, tenderly stroking her hair, Sara opened her mouth to speak, totally unaware that she would also speak aloud and be heard, quite clearly, by the same woman who was currently staring at her with such love and devotion that it made her heart sing with joy, despite the pain radiating though her body.

"Xena prepi na me paris mazi sou. Na me mathis oti xeris. Then boris na me afisis etho sti Potatheia. Thelo na pao mazi sou. Thiabasa gia ta asteria, milisa me philosophi. Eho to thoro tis prophotias. Boro na eme poli hriseme se esena. Pareme mazi sou. Thelo na eime san esena."

When Sara first spoke aloud, Xena looked up, eyes narrowed. By the first full sentence, the whetstone dropped to the floor, followed quickly by her sword. By the end of the entreaty, the warrior was across the room, sitting on the bed and shaking the young blonde woman fiercely. "Sara. Sara, wake up!"

"Xena?" Sara blinked staring eyes, the remnants of her amazingly realistic dream fleeing with her return to wakefulness. She stiffened at the look on Xena’s face. "Xena, what are you doing? Stop it, you’re hurting me!"

"What did you just say!" the warrior demanded, hands tightening painfully on Sara’s shoulders.

"I . . .I don’t . . .Xena please! You’re hurting my arms!"

"You were talking in your dream," Xena stated through clenched teeth. "What did you say?"

"I don’t remember!" Sara was beginning to panic.

"Pez mou te xeris gia te Pothaedia."

"Xena, I can’t understand you! Please let me go, please?"

With one last frustrated shake, Xena released the young woman’s shoulders, rising from the bed and stalking to the window where she stared out into the winter morning, idly watching fat flakes of snow as they lazily made their way to the ground. Her teeth were clenched tightly and from her position on the bed, Sara could easily see the warrior’s jaw muscles rhythmically flexing and releasing.

Rising from the bed, Sara stood, not daring to approach the obviously angry woman. "Xena, I . . .I don’t know what I did, but whatever it was, I’m sorry." She took a step closer, then paused. "Can you tell me why you’re so angry?"

"What do you remember about your dream," Xena asked, still staring out the window, fighting down the intensity of her emotions.

"I . . .well I . . . ," she trailed off, fighting to remember something that had been chased out of her mind by fright.

"The dream, Sara." The warrior turned, finally, pinning the young woman with an intense glare.

Sara flung her arm up in the air, frustrated. "I’m trying, damnit! Give me a minute here, ok?"

Exhaling an explosive sigh, Xena crossed her arms and continued to pin Sara with her stare, laboring hard to rein in her impatience.

"Ok, all I get are bits and pieces. I was sitting in the woods watching you practice, and the next thing I knew, I was in this, I guess, barn type thing. There was a terrible pain in my chest and you were sitting next to me, stroking my hair and then . . . ." She sighed. "I’m sorry, Xena. That’s all I can remember." Looking up, she met the hard stare, her own eyes trying to convey her own sense of frustration at not being able to remember more. "What happened?"

Finally breaking the stare, Xena turned her head to look back out the window. "You spoke Greek."

"I what?"

"You heard me."

"Yes, I heard you, Xena. But I don’t think I understood you correctly. How could I speak Greek? I don’t even know Greek."

"Nevertheless, that’s the language you spoke. I understood every word. Perfectly."

"What did I say?" When the warrior didn’t answer, Sara closed the distance between them, laying a gentle hand on Xena’s forearm. "Please, Xena. What did I say?"

Still looking out the window, Xena translated from memory, though the memory was not one minutes old, but rather thousands of years, back to a time she had heard those words uttered for the second time in her life, back to a deserted armory where her beloved lay dying from a poisoned arrow. "You said ‘Xena, you’ve got to take me with you. Teach me everything you know. You can’t leave me here in Poteidia. I want to go with you. I’ve studied the stars, spoken with philosophers. I have the gift of prophesy. I can be very valuable to you. Take me with you. I want so much to be like you.’"

Sara was silent for a moment, awed. "I said all that?"

Pulling away from the young woman’s gentle grasp, Xena turned back to the window fully, resting her forehead against the chilled glass. "Yes. You did."

"Did something in those words hurt you? Is that why you’re so angry?"

"I’d rather not talk about it now."

"Xena, please. I have to know. I have to understand why I made you angry."

"You didn’t make me angry, Sara."

"Well I made you something. Please tell me."

Sighing, Xena turned from the window for the last time. "Gabrielle said those exact words to me twice. The first time was when we first met. The second was when she lay dying from poison."

"Is . . .is that how she died?"

A half smile appeared. "No. I managed to get the antidote in time."

"I don’t understand. How could I say those things? I mean, I know it was just a dream and all, but I don’t know Greek and I sure as hell don’t know Gabrielle. Unless . . .maybe it’s a repressed memory thing? Are we related somehow? Like maybe distant cousins?"

If you only knew how distant. "I’m not sure. I’ve checked your genealogy on the computer, but the records are incomplete. It’s doubtful, though."

"Then why?"

"I wish I knew."

Sara stepped back, knowing not to push the issue any further. Though intrigued by the possibility of being genetically linked to Xena’s lost love, she wasn’t willing to push her companion so hard that the walls between them would go back up permanently. She was enjoying the new-found openness too much. Unable to resist one last comment, however, she grinned. "Did Gabrielle know how to cook?"

A smile of memory came to Xena’s face. "Oh yes. She was a wonderful cook. We were on the road more often than not, but she always managed to make due with what little we had."

"Well, we’ll just see if I can cook Greek food as well as I seem to be able to speak the language."

 

Continued...Part 5 of 6


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