The pair quickly retraced their steps as the knock sounded again. "Who’s there?"

"Simba. I’ve brought some friends."

Nodding, Xena unbolted the door and cracked it open, peering outside. Jarrod smiled easily, assuring her of his safety. "C’mon in."

Jarrod entered, followed closely by Franklin, whom Xena recognized from his picture on the news, and a young brunette who she didn’t recognize at all.

"Who’s this?"

"This," Franklin said a bit testily, "is Lauren Carruthers, my legal secretary. And you are?"

"My name is Xena. Sara is under my protection." Drawing herself up to her full height, the warrior shot a challenging glare down to the smaller man. "You got a problem with that?"

"Uh, no. No problem at all." Straightening his already precisely knotted tie, the DA turned to Sara. "Let’s get down to business, shall we?"

Sara led the way through the twisting maze, followed by Franklin and his assistant. Xena and Jarrod brought up the rear after securely bolting the door.

"Nice place you’ve got here," Xena teased in a low voice.

"Only the best mercenaries get to hang out here," he teased right back, bumping her hip with his own. Casting his gaze over the two in front of him, he eyed Sara’s blonde head. "How’s she holding up?"

"Doin’ ok. Still a bit banged up from her encounter with Magasee’s thugs, but she’s handling it well."

"She scared about the trial?"

"Yeah, a little. But I think I convinced her that with what she’s been through already, this’ll be a walk in the park."

"A park full of hungry barracudas, maybe."

"Barracudas don’t live in parks, Jarrod."

The tall African laughed at the lame old joke as he bowed Xena past him and into the large room. Sara and the other two had already seated themselves around the large table when Xena and Jarrod strode up to join them. The young assistant pulled out a legal pad and a microcassette recorder, placing both on the flat surface of the table.

"Are we ready?" Franklin asked, pushing his wire framed glasses slightly up the bridge of his nose.

Swallowing hard, Sara nodded, clasping her hands together on top of the table.

Reaching under the table, Xena found the young woman’s thigh and gave it a slight squeeze before pulling away, laying her own hands on the table, eyeing the lawyer coldly.

"Alright then. I only have a few questions, so this shouldn’t take too long." Nodding to his assistant to turn the recorder on, Franklin began his questioning.

The session lasted well over three hours and by the time they were done, Sara’s voice was hoarse and she had to pee badly. "I don’t suppose there’s a bathroom around here, is there."

Xena looked over at Jarrod, who shrugged. "Afraid you’re out of luck on that one, my friend." The tall man smiled at Franklin. "If you’re through here, I think your star witness has some needs to be attended to."

Franklin glared at Jarrod, snapping his briefcase shut and standing. "No, we’re done. Remember, Sara, don’t talk to anyone about this. No one at all, ok? No one’s gonna know you’re testifying until the last minute." He turned to leave, then turned back. "Oh, and get something nice for the trial. I want you looking like a proper, heartbroken wife."

Rising easily from her chair, Xena reached across the table and grabbed the lawyer’s arm, swinging him easily around. "If you want her in something decent, you can just buy it for her yourself. This woman has been in constant danger since she was almost murdered in her own home. And if you think that I’m gonna just let her waltz into a crowded store and pick out something demure to wear at this circus you’re calling a trial, you’re stupider than you look. Got me?"

Franklin tried to scowl, but it was a half hearted attempt at best. A fleeting image of going to trial with his arm in a sling made a sharp retort die on his lips. "Alright," he said evenly, not bothering to try to break the band of iron around his arm. "What size is she?"

"Excuse me, but I’m over here," Sara commented archly, standing and putting her hands on her hips. "And a lady doesn’t discuss her dress size with strangers."

Turning his gaze back to Xena, he shrugged his narrow shoulders. "Then how . . . ?"

Xena released her grip on the lawyer, propelling him away from the table. "Figure it out yourself."

Rubbing his bruised arm, the DA thought again about giving the rude woman a piece of his mind, then settled for a dramatic sigh, turning away from the amused trio and striding into the darkened passageways. The cheerful, lilting voice of Jarrod sounded behind him. "Um, Counselor?"

"What!" he hissed, not bothering to turn around.

"Exit’s the other way."

Muttering darkly under his breath and reversing his direction, Franklin strode quickly away to escape the laughter trailing behind him.

After the assistant fled after her boss, the sound of her heels echoing through the vast, empty room, Jarrod settled his mirth and turned to Xena. "Think they’ll get lost?"

"One can only hope." Grinning, she grasped Sara’s forearm and led her around the table. "Let’s go before he batters himself senseless trying to get through that locked door."

Hearing a howl of frustration in the distance, the three grinned at one another and hurried down the hallway into the darkness beyond.

Sara sat ensconced in the thick leather bucket seat of Jarrod’s Stingray, holding onto the dashboard like a lifeline. "Xena must pay you well," she commented, voice strained. "You sure have some nice cars. Nice, fast cars. Nice, fast, bumpy cars."

Jarrod laughed musically. "Ah, but this one’s the only one I own. That pretty little red coupe was rented. As were the three Jaguars." Taking a look at the young woman’s pasty white face, he let his foot up a bit off the accelerator.

Nodding, Sara looked through the windows at the barren trees that were speeding past them. Her stomach felt a bit queasy. "Do you only work for Xena?" she asked, using conversation to calm her fears of being in this speeding death-trap.

"No, but she is my first priority. My other jobs go to the back burner when she asks for help."

"What do you do? If you don’t mind my asking."

White teeth sparkled as the tall African grinned. "No, not at all. Security work, mostly. White hat only, though. I like helping the good guys."

"How did you and Xena meet?"

The smile vanished slowly. "Ah, that’s probably a question you’d better ask Xena."

"Mmm. You’re probably right." Turning her head to gaze at the man’s profile, the young woman had an inkling that Jarrod knew as much about Xena’s past as she did. What the heck? Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? "She . . .um . . .told me some interesting things about her life the other night." When there was no visible reaction, she continued. "About her past, I mean. Some things I found really hard to believe."

Jarrod turned his head slowly, meeting guileless green eyes. His own widened slightly.

"I know, Jarrod."

Returning his focus to the road ahead, Jarrod blew out a contained breath. "She doesn’t often talk about those times," he intoned evenly, still unsure how much the young woman knew.

"I know. But when we were ambushed on the street, she took a couple bullets to her back. I found out later that she wasn’t injured." A blush slowly crawled up her cheeks. "I ran. That’s when I got myself captured by Calladosi’s men." The blush of embarrassment deepened. "After she rescued me I kinda freaked out on her. She told me everything. Amphipolis, the ambrosia, Caesar, Gabrielle. Everything."

"Do you believe her?"

The answer was immediate. "Yes."

Jarrod’s smile returned, reaching all the way up to his warm chocolate eyes. "Welcome to the club then," he said, reaching out and squeezing her knee briefly before returning his hand to the wheel. "She seems quite taken with you," he observed quietly.

"Yeah, well it’s not really me she’s taken with. I . . .um . . .remind her of Gabrielle."

"Oh? How so?"

"Well, apparently I’m an exact double for the former Bard of Poteidia."

"No kidding!" Turning his head again, Jarrod did a slow head to toe appraisal of the young woman, smiling warmly at her. "She always did have good taste."

A fiery blush covered all of Sara’s exposed skin. After a moment, the young woman found her voice again. "Yeah, well, the problem is that I’m quite taken with her too."

"Why is that a problem?" Jarrod was genuinely surprised.

"Because she doesn’t love me, Jarrod. She loves Gabrielle. And no matter how much I might look like her, I’m just me."

Jarrod returned his warm hand to the young woman’s knee. "There is no ‘just’ about you, Sara. You’re a wonderful person. Brave, compassionate, caring. I’m sure she sees that in you. She’s not blind, you know."

"I know, and that works, as far as friendship goes. But I . . . well . . .I want more. And she’s already told me that she’s not willing to give that to me. Because of Gabrielle." She slumped sadly into the deep bucket seat, unwilling to go into detail about the kiss they’d shared and the feelings that simple act had invoked.

Not wishing to upset the young woman further, Jarrod held his voice, keeping a warm hand on Sara’s knee and continuing the rest of the journey in silence.

An hour later, the pair pulled into the rocky driveway of a large cabin overlooking a small stream and bordered on all other sides by thick woods. "Wow," Sara remarked, gratefully stepping out of the cramped car and looking around the grounds, "nice place you have here."

"One of my clients was nice enough to go away for a couple of days so we could use it," Jarrod replied, opening the trunk and removing the luggage stowed within. "C’mon inside and I’ll give you the grand tour. I designed most of it myself."

"Where’s Xena?"

Jarrod tapped the small receiver in his ear and grinned. "Just making sure we didn’t pick up any strays on our drive over. She’ll be here shortly." His grin widened. "She says to relax."

Sara’s attempt at a haughty retort failed miserably as a warm grin creased her face. "I guess it’s best to just obey Her Majesty’s orders," she said cheekily.

"I’ll tell her you said that."

"You wouldn’t dare."

"You’re right. I wouldn’t. Having Xena mad at me is bad enough. But you??" Shuddering in mock horror, Jarrod opened the door to the house and bowed the young woman inside, following in with the luggage and locking the door securely behind them.

Sara took some time to look around at the large cabin, smiling appreciatively. The interior was large and open, giving off the wonderful scent of the cedar wood from which it was composed. The far wall was dominated by a huge rock lined fireplace with well made cabinetry lining the wall on either side. To her left was a large oaken dining room table, shining in the mellow light which came through the floor to ceiling windows. To her right was a long, comfortable looking couch leaning against the wall, a large television perched along the opposite wall. Further to the left, two overstuffed chairs stood, a telephone wire spool perched between them to be used as a table. "This place is gorgeous."

"Thanks," Jarrod replied, grinning as he walked past the large television set to a small hallway, off of which the bathroom and bedrooms were located. Stowing the luggage, he returned, dusting off his hands and walking over to the large fireplace, setting some logs inside the grating. "Let’s warm it up a bit."

Walking along the far wall, Sara allowed her fingers to trail along the multitude of books which lined the shelves set above the cabinetry. "God, if I lived here, I’d be in heaven. Your friend is very lucky."

"In some ways," Jarrod said, flicking his Zippo and starting the fire. "In other ways, no. He’s in the Witness Protection Program. Been in it for years." The tall man shrugged. "Got tired of running. So, when he asked for my help in building a safehouse, I gave it to him."

Turning, Sara gave the house a once over again. "Um, no offense, Jarrod, but what makes this house safer than any other? I mean, you sure have a bunch of huge windows here."

Jarrod grinned as he led the young woman over to the windows, raising a hand and tapping on the glass. "Bulletproof."

"Amazing. What other surprises does this house have?"

"Oh, a few here and there. The best one, however, has to wait until Xena gets here."

"Oh. Ok. Where is she, anyway?"

"Closing in. She should be here in another five minutes."

"Does that thing have a microphone? I’ve half a mind to yell at her for making me worry like this."

The tall man chuckled. "Thankfully for me, it doesn’t, no. You’ll have to wait and yell at her to her face, I’m afraid."

"I just might do that," Sara retorted, hands on her hips.

Five minutes later, as promised, the headlights of Xena’s Jag shone into the house as she swung the car down the curving driveway and behind the house, concealing it beneath a thick stand of cedar and pine. Walking into the house, the dark haired beauty found herself with a chest full of Sara as the younger woman wrapped her in a full body hug.

"Thank God you’re safe. I was worried about you!"

Xena turned wide eyes to Jarrod. "But Jarrod . . . ."

The tall man shrugged. "I tried to tell her. She wouldn’t believe me."

Pulling slightly out of the embrace, Xena placed gentle hands on Sara’s shoulders. "I’m fine. I just had to make sure we weren’t followed. If we’re lucky, we’ll be able to use this place until after the trial."

"Did everything go ok?"

"Just fine." Turning to Jarrod, she smiled. "Thanks for getting this for us, my friend."

"My pleasure. And since you’re here, I can show Sara the piece de resistance. Watch and be awed." Striding over to the door, Jarrod opened a small panel and punched several buttons in rapid succession.

"Um, Jarrod? I hate to tell you this, but I don’t see anything."

"That’s because you’re not supposed to, Sara," Jarrod laughed, walking over to stand beside her at the windows. Handing her a pair of night-vision goggles that were lying on the table near the door, he suggested, "Here, put these on."

Doing as she was bade, Sara gasped in awe at the suddenly revealed myriad of tiny blue lines which lay in an intricate grid pattern across the grounds. "This is amazing!"

"Thank you. It is rather clever isn’t it? I have laser reflectors set up around the entire house and in the trees as well as on the bank of that small stream. A leaf doesn’t fall onto the property without someone knowing about it."

"Must make for a pretty hectic life, jumping up every time some squirrel tries to bury a nut in the yard though," Sara commented, removing the goggles and handing them back to Jarrod.

"The grid is very pressure sensitive, and makes a detailed mapping of each object that tries to intersect it. That mapping is transmitted to this computer over here," he continued, pointing to the previously unnoticed computer sitting on a stand beside the large dining room table. "The computer digitalizes the image and sets off different alarm chimes depending on what it finds. You get used to them soon enough, though they can be a bit distracting at first."

"I’ve never heard of anything like this before."

"And you won’t. It’s state of the art. Nigel helped a great deal."

"Nigel the talking car guy?"

"Yeah. That one."

The pair turned away from the window to see Xena warming her hands by the now roaring fire. Walking over to the warrior, Sara laid a gentle hand on her arm. "Thank you," she said softly, staring into the azure eyes whose color had deepened when exposed to the light of the fire. "I feel safe here."

Xena gave her a soft smile as she brought one warm palm up to lay atop the smaller one grasping her arm. "You’re welcome. I only wish we could have come here sooner. But we really didn’t have a choice. It took some time for the owner to be convinced that we needed the place more than he did."

"I don’t think I want to know how you did that, do I."

"Probably not." Gently removing the hand from her arm, Xena walked over to the long couch and eased down onto it, crossing her long legs contentedly. "Might as well get comfortable. We’ll be here for awhile."

Nodding happily, Sara came to sit beside the warrior, picking up the remote. "Do you mind?" At Xena’s nod of negation, she turned the television on, randomly scanning through the channels until something caught her eye. "Ooooh. Sleepless in Seattle. I love this movie!" The young woman sat back with a happy grin, totally missing the twin looks of patient exasperation aimed over her blonde head.

Several hours later, the sounds of soft snoring were heard as Sara slept, her head cradled against Xena’s broad shoulder, the forgotten remote cupped in one limp hand. From his position at the computer, Jarrod grinned at the sight, wincing slightly as he caught Xena’s narrow-eyed stare. Wisely, the large man chose not to comment. "I’ll take first watch," he said softly. "Why don’t you get her settled in and get some sleep. It’s gonna be a long few days."

"Alright. As long as you give me your word that you’ll wake me up. You need sleep. I don’t."

"I promise, boss," Jarrod teased. "Now get and leave a man to his work."

"Goodnight, angu simba." Rising gracefully, Xena chose to forgo the arduous task of waking her companion and instead cradled one hand behind the young woman’s upper back and another behind her bent knees. Straightening, she lifted Sara up easily, turning to the hallway where the bedrooms were housed.

"Goodnight, bluu jicho. Sleep well."

Xena watched, from her position by the windows, as the morning sun snaked its way in dappled tendrils across the broad expanse of lawn which bordered the property. Awake and refreshed after two hours of sleep, the warrior had relieved Jarrod at his post, sending him for some much needed rest as she spent the rest of the night in quiet solitude, amusedly listening to the battle of the snores issuing from the other rooms. Thoughts came and went through her mind in peaceful currents, none staying too long to cause distress. She kept her mind intentionally free from any images of Sara and Gabrielle, needing this time to just be alone within herself. She smiled as she remembered her home in Sedona, all glass and wood and red stone. She thought about her herd of horses running, more or less, freely through the vast acreage that made up her land holdings. She thought particularly of her young Argo, a two year old filly with a butter hide and cream colored mane. Though still afflicted with the wanderlust that had been with her since the beginning, Xena had come to appreciate the sense of groundedness that a home gave to her and was looking forward to some uninterrupted peace when this mission ended.

As the sun’s rays met the foundation of the house, Xena’s quiet solitude was interrupted as Jarrod came into the room, yawning hugely, stretching and scratching. "Quiet night?"

"Yeah. Aside from a couple raccoons and a curious deer, nothing important. You?"

"Slept like a log. As always. Want some tea?"

"That would be good. Thanks."

Smiling, the tall man walked to the door behind the dining room table where the small, but well-provisioned, kitchen was hidden.

Within moments, he returned, two steaming mugs of fragrant tea in his hands. Handing one of the mugs to the warrior, Jarrod grabbed a dining room chair and sat beside her. The two old friends were content to sit in silence, enjoying the tea and the sight of the newly forming day.

The peaceful interlude ended when Sara emerged, grumbling, from her room and slipped into the bathroom. Her business there finished, she joined the pair in the dining room, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and running a hand through her tangled hair. "Morning."

"Good morning," Jarrod greeted. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah. Funny, though. I can’t remember going to bed."

"You fell asleep on the couch. Xena put you to bed."

Looking at the warrior, Sara blushed. "You didn’t have to do that."

Xena smiled faintly. "I didn’t mind. Besides, it was better than trying to wake you up."

The blush deepened as Sara bumped Xena with her shoulder. "Thanks," she said shyly, then sniffed the air appreciatively. "Mmmm. That tea smells great."

"Would you like some?" Jarrod offered. "I was just going for a refill myself."

"That’d be great! Thanks!"

"No problem." Smiling, Jarrod stood and went back to the kitchen.

"Things go ok last night?" Sara asked Xena, who was sipping her tea, seemingly lost in thought.

"Not a peep."

"That’s good." She looked around. "Ya know, when I was little, I used to have dreams of living in a cabin like this. Just me and a couple of dogs, deep in the woods, living off the land. If I weren’t running for my life right now, I’d be tempted to think I was still dreaming."

"It doesn’t have to be a dream, Sara. Once this trial’s over, you’re gonna have to decide what you want to do with your life. Something like this might be the perfect thing for you."

The young woman shrugged. "Yeah. I guess." But what if my dreams have changed, Xena? What if what I want now is to spend this new life with you? Forget it, Sara. That is one dream that will never see the light of day.

"Something wrong?" Xena asked, observing the almost crestfallen expression on her young friend’s face.

"No. Just thinking."

Jarrod came back then, handing another mug of tea to Sara and reclaiming his seat next to the warrior.

Sipping her tea and needing to change the conversation, the young woman looked over to Xena. "When we were driving over here, I asked Jarrod how you two met. He told me it was better if I asked you to tell the story. So, can you tell me?" She smiled winningly.

After shooting a lethal glare towards Jarrod, Xena nodded reluctantly. "About thirty years ago, I traveled to Africa for no particular reason. While I was there, I spent some time with Jarrod’s people, the Chagua. They’re good people and were very open to having an outsider among them. They are fierce warriors and protected their lands bravely. The government used them to track down poachers and the arrangement was satisfactory to both sides. A rival clan fell in with a large group of organized poachers, and with the money and weaponry the poachers gave them, the tribe went to war against the Chagua. Jarrod and his sister were in the family hut one day, napping. They were five at the time, if I remember correctly." At Jarrod’s nod, Xena continued. "A couple of hand grenades were lobbed through the thatch roof of that hut. From my position in the camp, I saw what happened and ran inside to get them. We were about five paces from the enclosure when the grenades exploded. We were thrown through the air for some distance and I used my body to cushion their landings. Both got away with minor scrapes. I, however, wasn’t so lucky."

"What happened?" Sara asked, eyes wide, tea forgotten in her hand.

Jarrod stepped in to the tale. "Xena had taken the brunt of the explosion to her back. Her clothes were burned off her and her skin hung off of her, burnt." He shuddered with the memory. "Pieces of the hut were sticking out of her body. Both arms were broken when she protected us from the fall. By all rights, she should have been dead."

"But she wasn’t."

"No. It was the strangest thing I’d ever seen. Before our eyes, her body started to repair itself. Charred skin turned healthy again. Her broken bones straightened. When our Healing Elder removed the pieces of wood from her back and legs, her skin healed without wounds."

"Were you scared?"

"On the contrary, we were ecstatic. Chagua means ‘Chosen’ in our language. We believe that our people descended from a line of powerful immortal beings who walked the earth thousands of years ago, and who walk here still, invisible to our mortal eyes. To my people, Xena is a Goddess."

Sara nodded. "That’s why you call her what you do. Allah means God or Goddess, doesn’t it."

"Yes. And bluu jicho means blue eyes."

"’Blue eyed Goddess. I like that." Sara grinned.

"I’m no goddess."

"You are to us, Xena. You saved my life and the life of my sister. You rode with our warriors and ended the war. Even if you aren’t one of the immortals who seeded our people, you will always be a Goddess to us."

Xena’s tanned flesh darkened slightly in a faint blush as she shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "I did what I had to do," she said gruffly. "That doesn’t deserve worship."

Jarrod grinned as the old battle played itself out yet again. "Perhaps not. But it is what we give you freely, so you’d better get used to it. Besides, we’re not nearly as bad as we used to be."

"Thank the gods for that," Xena said, rolling her eyes. Finishing her tea, the warrior stood, placing the mug on the table. "If you’ll excuse me, this ‘goddess’ needs to hop in the shower."

Grinning at each other over Xena’s discomfiture, Sara and Jarrod remained seated, enjoying the new day and each other’s company.

The rest of the day was spent quietly, the trio enjoying a rare oasis of peace in their suddenly tumultuous lives. Needing some activity, Jarrod challenged Xena to some bow practice, which she gleefully accepted after making sure the alarm system was disarmed. The Chagua were master bow hunters and the tall African man had used the weapon ever since he was old enough to walk. The two were very evenly matched and spent hours happily splitting the other’s arrows down the middle with perfect shots. The only casualties were the trees who were used as targets, their bark coming out in clumps with each well executed hit. When Sara teasingly declared the contest a tie, Xena grinned ferally and went to the Jag, pulling out her weapons’ box and removing the chakram. Sara’s eyes went wide since she had never seen the lethal disc before. "What is it?"

"It’s called a chakram. My signature weapon."

"Can I hold it?"

"If you’re careful. It’s very sharp."

Accepting the weapon reverently, Sara looked at it’s intricate design, turning it over in her hands. "It’s beautiful. What do you do with it?"

"You throw it."

"Like a frisbee?"

"Almost, yes."

"Can I throw it?"

Xena sighed, then nodded. "But be very careful. It’s a deadly weapon. Aim it for those trees out there."

Nodding, Sara curled her arm and released the chakram. It flew, wobbling, for a few feet before dropping to the ground. The weapon was heavier than it looked. "Doesn’t seem all that practical to me," the young woman observed, retrieving the weapon and returning it to its owner.

"That’s because you don’t know how to use it. Watch." With a negligent flick of her corded wrist, Xena released the chakram, sending it to careen off of the house’s stone foundation where it rebounded to hit the rock fence bordering the driveway, dipping to skim over the gravel before flying up, bouncing off of three pine trees and one cedar trunk and then slicing through all the imbedded arrows. Hitting once again off of the house, it returned to its owner’s waiting hand.

Sara struggled to pick her jaw up off the ground. "Wow. That was amazing! Does it always come back to you?"

"Almost always. Unless I don’t want it to."

"Why wouldn’t you want it to?" she asked, puzzled.

Xena looked over at Jarrod, cocking a sable brow.

"It’s a weapon, Sara," the African explained patiently.

"Wha-? Oh. Ohhhhh." The young woman turned slightly pale, a vision of that shiny disc protruding from come unfortunate man’s chest playing behind her eyes. "I get it," she confirmed, wishing she didn’t.

"So," the warrior said, looking pointedly at Sara, "does this contest have a winner, judge?"

"Yeah," Sara replied, grinning. "I declare Xena, Warrior Princess and Blue Eyed Goddess the winner!"

Xena rolled her eyes as Jarrod doubled over with laughter.

After a satisfying dinner and another of Sara’s "Movies of Mush", as Xena privately labeled them, the group settled down for another night in the comparative safety of the cabin.

As Sara sleepily slipped between the warm sheets, Xena perched herself on one side of the bed. "How ya holdin’ up?"

"Ok, I guess. I’m a little nervous about tomorrow though."

"It’s ok to be nervous, but you shouldn’t fear it. You’ll do fine."

"You’ll be there with me?"

Xena smiled softly. "Every step of the way." Leaning over, the warrior gave her friend a gentle kiss to the lips before pulling away and standing up. "Now try to get some sleep."

"Goodnight, Xena."

"Goodnight, Sara."

When the tall beauty left the room, shutting the light off as she did so, Sara smiled, raising a hand gingerly to her still tingling lips. Goodnight, Gabrielle. Thanks. Rolling to her side, fingers and smile still in place, the young blonde fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

"Sit down, Sara. You’re gonna wear a hole in the carpet if you keep pacing like this."

"I can’t help it. All this waiting is driving me crazy!" Wiping her sweating palms on the fabric of her sensible navy skirt, Sara walked over to the low-slung couch and plopped down. "I don’t think I can take much more of this." She looked around at the plainly furnished beige room that was being used to keep her until she was needed to testify. Heavily armed guards stood on both sides of the closed doors, their hands never far away from their sidearms.

"You’re gonna have to. It’ll likely be another couple of days before you’re called to the stand. You’ve just got to relax before you wear yourself down."

"I wish I could." Jumping up, Sara began to pace again. "This really sucks. Why can’t I just wait at home? I’d be a hell of a lot more comfortable and at least I’d have something to do besides stare at these stupid beige walls all day!"

Standing, Xena crossed the room and braced her hands on Sara’s shoulders, turning the agitated young woman to face her. "Sara, you need to relax. I know waiting isn’t fun, but we’re out of choices here. You need to be ready when they call you to testify."

"That’s easy for you to say," Sara shouted, wresting herself from the warrior’s gentle embrace. "You’re not the one who has to go up there and tell intimate details about her life to a bunch of strangers! You’re not the one . . . ." Her voice trailed off as she finally noted the shuttered look in Xena’s eyes. She reached out again. "God, Xena, I’m sorry. I’m losing it here and taking it out on you. I’m really sorry."

Xena smiled softly. "Don’t worry about it. Waiting brings out the worst in all of us sometimes. Why don’t you sit down with me for awhile. Court should be recessing for lunch shortly."

With a sigh, Sara nodded and came to sit beside the taller woman, resting her head against one warm shoulder as she contemplated the ceiling. Calm, Sara. Be calm. Moments later, there was a knock at the door and one of the guards poked his head into the room. "Court’s adjourned for lunch. We’ll be bringing in your food soon."

As Sara looked past the guard, she caught a glimpse of Calladosi as he was led, lawyers in tow, past the room. Turning his head, the Mafia Boss looked inside, his eyes meeting Sara’s, a look of intense hatred crossing his unlined, tanned face. Their gazes locked for a long moment before he was gone, led off down the hall to the holding cell where he was kept between sessions. Sara slumped back against the couch, tendrils of fear sinking their icy talons into her stomach. "Did you see him, Xena? He looked like he was gonna kill me right then and there."

"It’s ok," Xena said, clasping a sweaty palm in a consoling gesture. "He’s not gonna hurt you. You’re safe here."

Further talk was delayed as the door opened again, admitting Jarrod who carried a large tray heaped with food for the trio. Putting the tray on the table, he sprawled down onto a battered aluminum chair, smiling at his friends. "How are things in here?"

"Rotten," Sara stated, grabbing a sandwich and taking a huge bite out of it, washing down the tasteless food with a large sip of soda. "What’s going on in there?"

"They just finished opening arguments. Ya know, for a wuss, that Franklin’s a good talker. Had the jury eating out of the palm of his hand by the time he was through."

"What about the other guys?" Xena asked, snagging an apple from the lunch tray and taking a healthy bite, wiping the juice that traveled down her chin with the back of her hand.

"If there’s such a thing as a quintessential Mafia lawyer, Timmons would be it. You know the type. Tall, tanned, refined. Big mane of silver hair. Vain. Thinks he’s too good to mix with the common folk."

"In other words, a prick," Xena pronounced.

"That’d be the word I’d use," Jarrod agreed, smirking. "Any way, his speech was same ol’ same ol’. ‘My client is a god fearing, church going man who takes little old ladies out for tea after church on Sundays, helps find homes for abandoned puppies and should be nominated for Sainthood. He’s being accused of heinous crimes by some lowlife scum who just wants to see his picture in the papers.’ Nothing we haven’t heard a thousand times before."

"It doesn’t surprise me," the warrior agreed. "How’d the jury take it?"

"It’s hard to tell. They’re a pretty diverse group. I think we’ve got the judge on our side, though. He interrupted Timmons twice to remind him about histrionics in the courtroom. Thought Dapper Don was gonna wet the pants of his five hundred dollar suit." The tall man winked at Sara, settling back in the chair and finishing off the last of his sandwich.

Sara let out a relieved giggle as she finished her own lunch, then started in on Xena’s untouched sandwich, knowing by experience that the warrior would stick to the fruits and vegetables scattered around the tray. "Well, that makes me feel a little better anyway. Any idea when it’ll be my turn?"

"Again, it’s hard to say. I’m betting they put your husband on the stand sometime tomorrow. You’ll probably come in right after that to try and undo any damage the defense caused. So it really depends on how long they keep your husband on the stand."

"Joseph," the young woman corrected gently. "He’s my husband in name only." Turning to face Xena, she smiled. "I’m taking your advice, Xena. About a new life, I mean. As soon as this is over, I’m gonna get a divorce and start all over again, under my own name."

Smiling proudly, Xena clapped a hand on her young friend’s shoulder.

Two days later, Sara was back in the same beige room, staring at the same beige walls, avoiding the stares of the same beige guards. Only the day and her clothing had changed. Instead of a navy skirt, she was wearing a demure tan dress which ended below the knees and contained a high, simple bodice and long sleeves. "Ya know, Xena, I look like a dowdy old housewife in these clothes. I’m surprised they didn’t put glasses on me!"

Xena grinned, agreeing privately that the dress did nothing to enhance her friend’s lovely face and form. "It’s exactly the image they’re looking for, Sara," she said aloud. "The defense is probably gonna portray you as some out for money Jezebel who’d do anything for some new jewelry. The DA is just trying to head them off at the pass."

Slumping back down onto the couch, Sara replayed the events of yesterday’s testimony, as told to her by Jarrod. Joseph had come through it all better than anyone had thought possible. He said his piece and kept to his story despite vicious questioning by the defense. He admitted to his crimes and admitted to his place in the Witness Protection Program as a condition of testifying against Calladosi. Jarrod said the man looked very remorseful on the stand.

Despite that, Sara’s testimony was still vitally important since her soon-to-be ex husband’s reputation and personal life had been put through the psychological trash compactor. The prosecution wasn’t exactly reeling from the blows, but Sara’s testimony could definitely win the round for them. And if this round could be won, the outcome of the fight was pretty much assured.

For herself, Xena was probably more worried than her friend. Somewhere, she knew, Magasee waited, biding his time. She felt sure he would have made his move before now, but there was only silence. She had spent the afternoon before convincing the judge of the need for bomb precautions, giving him a brief overview of all that had happened since she met Sara, as well as Magasee’s lethal reputation. In the end, the judge had relented, mostly because he well knew the tall, forbidding woman’s stellar reputation. Besides, it would make him feel safer too.

It was midmorning when a knock sounded at the door. A guard entered. "They’re ready for you, Mrs. Di’Maglione."

Nodding, Sara stood, wiping her palms once more on her skirt. "Wish me luck," she whispered to Xena.

"Break a leg," the low, liquid voice returned.

Sara issued her first smile of the day at her friend before allowing herself to be escorted through the ornate oaken doors of the large courtroom. A whispered murmur accompanied her slow walk to the stand and she swallowed against the nervousness that had dried out her throat. Smiling faintly at the judge as she passed him, Sara was pleased to note that he returned the smile, his eyes compassionate, wise and friendly. She felt her nervousness dissipate some at that and took the stand with a greater sense of calm.

Xena entered the courtroom through the side door, striding easily over to the seat Jarrod had, with his huge body and intimidating looks, reserved for her. "Thanks," she whispered as she heard Sara promising to tell the the truth, the whole truth etc etc etc.

"How’s she doing?"

"She’ll be alright. Right now, I’m more worried about Magasee."

"So am I," Jarrod replied softly, tapping a transceiver hidden in his ear. "I haven’t heard a thing. He should have made his move by now." He smiled. "Saw the bomb squad out there. Nice touch."

Xena smirked. "It was either that or pat down every Tom, Dick and Jane who came in here." Turning her head slightly, the warrior’s keen eyes scanned the crowd. Aside from the obligatory reporters, the seats were filled with a few family members, a dozen or so poorly disguised mobsters, and plenty of bored housewives, most dressed garishly in the hopes of being spotted on the six o’clock news. Shaking her dark head, Xena relaxed back into her seat, prepared for the long haul.

Three hours later, the warrior was back in the beige waiting room as a beaming Sara ran through the door to fling herself into Xena’s arms. "I did it! I really did it!"

"Ya did good," Xena complemented, patting her friend’s back before releasing the embrace. "How do you feel?"

"I feel great! Every time that Timmons guy moved in for the kill, I thought about my father and the things I’ve always wanted to say to him. And I realized something." Stepping back, Sara hugged herself. "I’m a grown woman. For the first time in my life, I really believe that. I’m old enough to make my own decisions and to stand up for myself. I remembered how I felt when we escaped those idiots trying to kill us, and I remember how I felt when I panicked and ran. I realize now that I control my own destiny." She turned to Xena, her eyes shining with love. "And I have you to thank for that Xena. I owe you so much that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you."

"You don’t owe me anything," Xena returned, a bit uncomfortable with the adoration her young companion was showing her. "Besides, we’re not out of the woods yet. There’s still the rest of the trial and the verdict." And Magasee, she reminded herself.

"I’m feeling too wonderful right now to care about any of that. I did it! I really did it!"

"Yeah, ya did." Guiding Sara over to the couch, Xena gently urged her companion down onto it, following her. "Now let’s wait and see how much effect your testimony had on the outcome of the trial, shall we?"

Jarrod came in to the room an hour later, wrapping Sara up in a bone crushing hug. "You were wonderful out there!" he enthused, kissing her soundly on each cheek before setting the flustered, yet happy, young woman back down on the ground. "Absolutely fantastic! Knocked old Timmons flat on his ass a few times! Damn, Xena, you shoulda seen her! ‘I’m perfectly aware that my husband is a criminal, Mr. Timmons. But at least he has the guts to admit to his crimes.’ God, it was beautiful! You’re gonna be headline news, my friend."

Blushing profusely, Sara allowed Jarrod to lead her out of the courtroom and back to the safe house, her mind awash in the joy of finally standing up for herself.

Three days later, Xena and Sara were in their accustomed positions in the waiting room. Xena was sprawled out on the couch, her eyes effortlessly tracking a pacing Sara. Word had come down from the Court that the jury had reached a verdict a few hours earlier. Everyone was tensely waiting as the principals were found and security heightened.

Adrenaline coursed through the warrior’s supple body. No one had seen hide nor hair of the elusive Magasee. If there was a final time to make his move, today would be it. Even Calladosi was frantically calling his cronies from the prison phone, heating up the communications lines with profanities and orders to find his hired assassin before the verdict was reached. Xena hadn’t slept a wink since the trial started and, though her body didn’t need the rest, her mind did. She knew that if the move didn’t come soon, she might be unable to deal with it when it did, finally, arrive. And there was no doubt in Xena’s mind that it would come. It was only a matter of when. And where.

The door to the room opened and a guard poked his head in. "Verdict’s in. Session’s starting."

Nodding, the pair rose from the couch and joined the guards who would escort them to the packed courtroom. They were ushered inside where Sara was given a seat in the front row just behind the Prosecutor’s table. Xena was seated just beside her and she smiled her thanks to the judge, who nodded back at her, well knowing the danger the brave young woman was in at that moment.

The court clerk stood. "All rise. Court is now in session, the Honorable Judge Harold T. Simpson presiding."

Walking to his chair, the Judge sat down, straightening his robes and adjusting his glasses. "You may be seated. In the Case of the People of Philadelphia vs. Antonio Calladosi, has the jury reached a verdict?"

The jury foreman, a tall, well built man, stood. "We have, Your Honor."

"Please pass it to the court clerk."

Receiving the ballot slip, the clerk handed it to the Judge, who read it, nodded, and handed it back to the clerk. "On Count One, Racketeering, what is the verdict."

"We, the jury find the defendant, Antonio Calladosi, guilty of Count One, to wit, the crime of Racketeering against the people of the city of Philadelphia."

"So say you all?"

"Aye," the jury intoned.

The courtroom erupted in a flurry of emotions, both positive and negative. Mobsters jumped up, shouting, and had to be restrained by the heavily armed security guards. Calladosi turned to where Sara sat and held up one hand, pointing his finger at her, aimed like a gun. He mouthed the words ‘you die bitch’ at her before turning away.

The young woman shuddered and turned to Xena, who was shooting a lethal glare at the man’s back.

It took several minutes for the Judge to bring order back into the courtroom. After the irate mobsters had been forcibly evicted from the room, the reading of the verdicts continued. Calladosi was found guilty of seven of the twelve counts against him. Sentencing guidelines being what they were and barring a successful appeal, the Mob Boss would be in prison for the rest of his natural life.

Xena, Jarrod and a cache of armed guards led Sara through the gauntlet of reporters, deflecting their weapons, microphones and video cameras, away from the young woman’s face as they went. Joseph had been whisked secretly away earlier in the day, and Sara was saddened that she hadn’t had the chance to tell him goodbye and wish him well in his new life.

When they arrived at the cars, the guards began a thorough sweep while Xena and Jarrod used their own devices to assure themselves that their cars hadn’t been tampered with during the time they were inside. When everything checked out clean, Xena helped Sara up into the high seat of Jarrod’s security van, then slipped into the Jag, leading the chase out of the government parking lot.

Xena and Jarrod kept in close contact via their two way transmitters and when the last of the trailing reporters had been diverted, the warrior let Jarrod take the lead while she followed, making sure no one else would be foolish enough to tail them back to the cabin.

As Xena followed Jarrod’s van into the long driveway, she noticed the sun glint off of an object in the woods to the west of the cabin. Shit! "Jarrod, turn around. Get her out of here now!"

"But . . . ."

"Just do as I say! Move! Now!"

"What’s going on?" Sara asked, her hands gripped tightly to the van’s large dash.

"I don’t know, but we’ve gotta get out of here." His huge hands gripping the wheel, Jarrod swung the large van quickly about on the loose gravel drive, the van fishtailing, sending rocks spewing from the rear tires as it tried valiantly to stay upright and on the track.

As Jarrod successfully navigated the protesting van around in a tight circle, the rear side window exploded with a cough of shattering glass.

"What the hell?" Sara screamed.

"The welcoming committee has arrived. We’ve gotta get out of here."

Twisting her body, Sara looked over the seat to see Xena’s car continuing down the driveway toward the cabin. "But what about Xena?"

"She’ll be fine, Sara. I’ve got to get you to safety."

The young woman latched her hand onto Jarrod’s corded forearm. "We can’t leave! Xena’s in danger! Turn this thing back around!" With her other hand, she reached for the door handle, slamming her shoulder against a door held shut by inertia and popping it open. Releasing her grip on the big man’s arm, she prepared to jump.

"No!" Jarrod shouted, grabbing the young woman by the back of her dress, keeping her inside the van. "Xena will be fine! They can’t hurt her, remember?"

Sara turned her head toward the driver, her eyes full of venom. "They might not be able to kill her, Jarrod, but they sure as hell can hurt her! Let me go!"

Jarrod, taken back a bit by the fire in the young woman’s eyes, grimly maintained his grip on the straining fabric of her dress. "Xena’s orders, Sara. I’m sorry." Slamming his foot down on the gas pedal, he propelled the swerving van down the drive and out onto the street, skidding the van on two wheels as he negotiated the sharp right turn that would lead them to safety.

"Goddamnit, Jarrod! I said let . . .me . . .go!!!" The young woman struggled with more strength than she ever thought she possessed, laughing triumphantly as the dress began to tear. C’mon. Just a little more, just a little further. But the tear had reached a strong seam and Jarrod started to haul her back, by slow inches, into the van. No! I have to help her! Please! Then it happened. Like the gentle caress of a warm spring breeze, Gabrielle entered Sara, filling her soul to completeness, amplifying her emotions, her feelings, the strength of her limbs far beyond anything she had ever thought possible. Yes! She screamed internally. Thank you, Gabrielle!

No problem, the wise, warm, incredibly tender voice responded in her head. Now let’s get out of here and kick some ass!

With a joyful shout, Sara/Gabrielle leapt from the speeding van, turning her body in a practiced tuck as her legs gave out upon hitting the pavement. Ignoring the road rash to her hands and knees, the young woman jumped to her feet, dusted herself off, and began to run.

As soon as the van was safely away, Xena brought the Jag to a screeching, tire shredding halt just inches from the cabin’s foundation. Grabbing her shotgun, the warrior flung open the door and crouched behind it, using it as a shield. The grounds and woods behind them were silent. Even the birds had quieted. "Give it up, Magasee!" Xena shouted from her place behind the car door. "Your Boss is going away for a very long time. You won’t see a penny of your blood money!"

"This stopped being about money a long time ago, Xena," came a voice from behind the trees bordering the property. "It’s now about the hunt. And I must say, you’ve been wonderful prey!"

"You and I must have different definitions of the word ‘prey’, Paulie," Xena taunted, mentally triangulating on the sound of Magasee’s voice within the thick woods. "I drew first blood, after all." Peeking through the window to the area directed by her acute hearing, the warrior saw a muted flash of sun on metal before it disappeared again. She ducked quickly as several rounds of semi-automatic gunfire took out the window where her head was a split second before. "Missed me, Paulie!" Popping her head up, she let go with both barrels, grunting in disappointment when the only things to fall were great gouges of pine bark as they exploded from the tree she’d nailed.

"Missed me too, Xeeeeennnaaaaaa," came Magasee’s singsong retort. He cackled with insane mirth. "I know your reputation, Xena. You tried to pin those Israeli bombings on me, didn’t you? Too bad your witness wound up eating seaweed from the bottom of the ocean!"

"So it was you!"

"Oh yes. You may be good, Xena. But I’m better."

Gunfire sounded again, a round penetrating the Jag’s steel frame and imbedding itself into Xena’s right wrist. She hissed in pain as her arm went numb, the shotgun dropping from her hand. The warrior gritted her teeth, waiting for the wound to heal and the feeling to return to her arm. They were at a standoff presently. If she tried to run across the open field, Magasee would pump so many bullets into her that her immortal body would have to shut down just to heal the damage. She knew where he was, just not how to get to him. The trees made excellent cover. I need a distraction of some kind.

Her silent plea was answered. Hearing a scraping from the gravel driveway, Xena turned her head. Her eyes widened. Nooooooo! Sara was striding toward her, a grim, determined look on her face. Just before she crossed onto the grass, the young woman bent over and picked up a stout tree limb, twirling it effortlessly around her body.

"It looks like we have company, Xena!" Magasee shouted gleefully.

"Sara! Get back!!!"

"Tora irtha, Xena. Then tha pao pouthena mono me sena!"

Xena’s heart fell through her feet. "Gabrielle???"

The next sound heard was gunfire.

With a muted string of curses, Jarrod skidded the van to a stop and jumped out the door before the vehicle had stopped moving completely. "Sara, wait!" he yelled, breaking into a fast, ground-eating run. Oh please don’t let anything happen to her, please. Not after all this. C’mon, faster! You can do this! Xena’s counting on you, Simba! He was gaining on Sara with every stride. He was almost upon her when she bent over to pick up a tree limb and twirl it while continuing down the lawn toward Xena. Off to his left, the running man could see Magasee hiding behind a large tree, aiming his gun toward Sara. As he saw the assassin’s finger tighten on the trigger, Jarrod leapt over the low rock wall, tackling the young woman and rolling her down a small drainage embankment. The feeling of bullets tearing through his shoulder caused him to groan aloud as he rolled with Sara in his arms.

"Asi na figo!" Gabrielle screamed, pounding on Jarrod’s huge body with her balled fists once they had reached the bottom of the culvert.

Jarrod hissed in pain as the young woman punched him squarely in his wounded shoulder. He released his grip immediately, rolling in agony as blood poured from his wounds.

"Ese htipimeni!" the bard cried out, seeing the blood on her hands. She immediately started probing the wounds, trying to assess the damage and staunch the flow of blood which was bathing the ground beneath them.

Jarrod pulled away from the probing hands, gritting his teeth. "Um . . .Sara, I don’t know which one of us got knocked in the head, but I can’t understand you."

Gabrielle took a deep breath, then swallowed, consciously willing her mind to switch to the unfamiliar English language. "I’m sorry. I said ‘you’re hurt’. We’ve got to do something about these wounds."

From her vantage point behind the Jag’s door, Xena saw Jarrod come flying over the wall just as Magasee shot at Sara, tackling her from behind and rolling them into the drainage ditch. A scream of pain was heard, but she blocked it from her ears, instead using their presence as the distraction she so desperately needed. Flipping over the door, she ran in a zig zag pattern for the trees, slipping behind the sheltering bark of one large spruce. "You just made a very big mistake, Paulie," Xena said in a dark, menacing voice. "You hurt my friends. Now you’re gonna pay."

The warrior heard a sudden rustling in the leafy ground cover as Magasee startled to her now close voice. "I’d say the mistake, and the payment, is yours to make, Xena," he said, fixing on the sound of her voice. "I’m better armed, better equipped, and just plain better than you’ll ever hope to be."

Silent as death, or so he thought, Magasee crept over the ground cover to the tree behind which Xena was hiding. Raising his gun, he tightened his finger on the trigger and, with a deep breath, stepped around, depressing the trigger and spraying the entire area with hundreds of lethal projectiles, watching as bark blew from numerous trees, falling like snow to the ground below.

He looked down in triumph, then frowned. The forest floor was empty. "What the . . . ."

Xena leapt from her perch in the spruce, her powerful legs bearing the assassin down to the ground, his gun discharging into the littered earth. With a stomp of her booted foot, the warrior broke Magasee’s wrist, kicking the gun away. "Never underestimate your prey, Paulie," she hissed, her boot grinding the broken bones of his wrist together.

The assassin let out a loud, gibbering scream as the fire in his arm coursed through his entire body. "Just get it over with!"

"Oh no. That’d be too easy." Kneeling down beside the writhing man, Xena sunk fingers into his hair, pulling his head up from the ground. "You’re not gonna die, Paulie. At least, not today. Oh no. You’re gonna suffer." The warrior’s words dripped venom, her teeth bared in a malignant smile.

Magasee screamed again as Xena backhanded him across the face, fracturing his jaw, blood pouring from the cuts which bloomed suddenly in his mouth.

"What’s the matter, Paulie? Afraid of a little pain?" Xena backhanded him again, then let his head drop to the ground. "You’re pathetic." A yell from across the grounds halted her play.

"Xena, gligora! Then boro na stamatiso to ema!"

Her heart soaring, Xena abruptly stood, dusting the leaf litter from her hands. "You’re in luck. My friend needs me. Just lay there and bleed like a good little assassin, hmmm?" Bending down quickly, she jabbed the pressure points in both of the writhing man’s legs, paralyzing him. "That’s so you don’t decide to wander off on me." She looked over to where she knew the drainage ditch would be. "Coming Gabrielle!" Her body trembling with emotion, Xena started through the woods at a fast lope, a grin spreading its way across her face.

At the bottom of the culvert, Jarrod looked up into the face of the young woman who was working so feverishly tending to his wounds. "Gabrielle?" he rasped.

"Yes?"

"No. I mean . . .your name." He winced again as Gabrielle reapplied the pressure dressing she had made from the bottom of her dress.

"Oh. Yeah." The smile that overspread her face was blinding. "That’s what she calls me."

"You’re the . . .Gabrielle?"

"Yep."

"Oh wow. That’s fantastic!"

"It is, isn’t it." Gabrielle winced as a shudder of pain went through the body beneath her hands. "Just relax. Xena’ll be here in a minute to help stop the bleeding." She blushed faintly. "I’m a little out of practice."

"You’re doing great," he hissed, fighting off the blackness which was enshrouding his vision. He could feel the warmth and compassion which were coming off this woman in waves and he hung onto the feelings, using them as an anchor. "I probably don’t wanna know how this happened, right?"

Bright green eyes sparkled with joy, mirth and the tiniest bit of embarrassment. "Um . . .probably not."

Despite his pain, Jarrod returned the grin. "Thought as much."

With a piercing yell, Xena flipped into the ditch, dark hair flying wildly over one shoulder as she turned to look at the young woman kneeling at Jarrod’s side. "Gabrielle?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

With a smile brighter than the light of a thousand suns, Gabrielle jumped up and into Xena’s outstretched arms, tears of joy streaming down her face in torrents. "Xena!"

"By the gods, Gabrielle. It’s you. It’s really you!" Crushing the bard’s warm body to her chest, Xena too lost her battle with tears as great wrenching sobs wracked the entwined bodies. After a long, intense moment, the warrior finally moved away, tilting her head and simply staring into her beloved’s beautiful eyes. "I can’t believe it," she whispered over and over as she began to rain kisses over Gabrielle’s forehead, nose and cheeks. Finally their lips met, and the world fell away around them.

Tongues warred urgently, moving from mouth to mouth as Xena’s hand sunk itself into Gabrielle’s honey hair. Breathing quickened and deepened. Nerve-endings came alight with the fire coursing through their veins. Two sets of knees locked against the weakness bestowed by passion’s fury. Each tasted the tang of salty tears on the other’s lips. It was a kiss to span the eons.

It was a kiss that would have gone on to eternity if Jarrod’s rasping voice hadn’t chosen that moment to interrupt. "Um . . .sorry to break up the reunion, guys, but I seem to be bleeding pretty heavily down here?"

Xena broke off, looking from Jarrod, to Gabrielle, to Jarrod again. "Oh. Uh . . .sorry." Squeezing Gabrielle’s shoulders and grinning lopsidedly, Xena squatted next to the similarly grinning Jarrod. Her expression became a bit chagrined as she bent to look at the blood stained cloth covering the wounds. "Let me take a look at that." Pulling the pressure bandage away, the warrior looked with concern at the way the blood was pooling in the entrance wounds. "I’m gonna have to roll you over, Jarrod. I need to see if the bullets made it all the way through."

Jarrod bit his lip and nodded, trying not to cry out as Xena helped him to roll to his side. His back stiffened as Xena’s gentle fingers probed the area near his shoulderblades. "You’re lucky, my friend. Both bullets exited neatly. Unfortunately, you’re lying in some very dirty water. There’s a good chance that these wounds will become infected. We need to get you to a hospital."

"No! No hospital! Please, Xena."

"I’ll get your healing kit in the sadd . . .oh. This is really weird." Gabrielle blushed, looking around for the first time. "This is gonna take some getting used to."

"It just goes downhill from here," Xena said, grinning at her. "C’mon. Help me get him up. We’ll see how well stocked the cabin is."

With the help of his two friends, Jarrod was able to make it into the cabin and onto the large bed in one of the bedrooms. Rolling him again to his side, Xena looked over at Gabrielle, the love in her eyes causing the young woman’s heart to triple it’s rate. The warrior grinned and shook her head in wonder. "Keep him talking. I’ll be right back."

"The stuff’s in the bathroom, Xena," Jarrod noted as the warrior walked out the door.

Coming over to the front of the wounded man, Gabrielle laid a gentle hand atop his shoulder, being careful to stay well away from the hemorrhaging wound. "Jarrod, I didn’t thank you for saving my life. Thank you." She smiled warmly at him.

God, she’s amazing! No wonder Xena mourned for her all these years! "You’re welcome," he rasped. "Seeing the two of you together again is more thanks than I could ever hope for." He was surprised by the sting of tears in his own eyes.

Xena re-entered the room, carrying a large black medical bag. "You’ve got a whole emergency room in there."

"Well, it pays to be prepared."

"Yeah. You’re a regular Boy Scout. C’mon, let’s get this shirt off you."

With Gabrielle’s help, Xena was able to quickly cleanse and dress the wounds, stopping the bleeding with a minimal amount of effort. During the task, Xena and Gabrielle would often look at one another and grin like teenagers in the grip of their first crush.

Jarrod, with one in front and one behind, was caught in the emotional crossfire as waves of intense love, devotion, trust and passion rolled through him. He didn’t feel one bit of pain during the entire procedure.

Finally, Xena was done. Washing the blood from her hands, she returned from the bathroom with a few pills and a glass of water. Helping Jarrod to sit up, she handed him first the antibiotics and then a pain pill, seeing that he swallowed each before laying him back on the bed again. "We’ll have to watch those wounds closely. I think I got all the dirt out, but there’s still a chance that they could become infected." Her eyes softened and warmed. "What you did took courage, angu simba. Thank you."

"Anything for you, Allah a bluu jicho."

Smiling, the warrior leaned over and placed a gentle kiss to one smooth cheek. "Get some rest, my friend. We’ll be just outside if you need us."

Jarrod returned the smile, which then turned into a slight smirk. "I’m sure the pain pill will shut out the sounds that are sure to be coming from the bedroom next to mine, bluu jicho."

Xena rolled her eyes as Gabrielle blushed and giggled. "G’night, pervert."

"Night, Xena. Goodnight, Gabrielle. It’s an honor to finally meet you."

"I’m honored as well, Jarrod. Sleep well. We’ll talk later."

Hand in hand, the two woman shut off the light and left the room, closing the door securely behind them.

?s soon as the door was fully closed, Xena gathered Gabrielle up in a crushing embrace, bearing the young bard a foot off the ground as the warrior buried her face in thick flaxen hair. "Pros tous theous, Gabrielle," she breathed, tears again flowing down the arched planes of her cheeks. By the gods.

Return to The Bard's Corner