THE BETWEEN THE LINES SERIES
(or what happened between the episodes)
by Texbard
For Disclaimers, see "Looking for
Trouble"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
2.11 Masquerade
(post "Here She Comes, Miss Amphipolis")
Artifice: "You really
don't get it, do you? I guess being born a woman, you wouldn't. This is a
chance to use a part of me most people usually laugh at -- or worse. The part I
usually have to hide -- only here that part works for me-- you see?"
Xena: "I think so."
Art: "Look -- I don't expect you to understand. And I'm sorry I got you
steamed. I just hope you let me quit the pageant in private instead of going
public with it."
X: "No way. May the best person win."
- Here She
Comes, Miss Amphipolis
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It's a beautiful night. We hiked up away from the village where they held the
pageant, and found a nice spot to make camp, on a cliff, overlooking the beach
and the ocean. It's a little chilly out tonight, and we've built up the fire
nicely, with a healthy supply of logs stacked over next to the rock wall that
rises up behind us. I can hear the waves crashing against the shore way down
below us, and see to the edge of the world, where the darkness of the rolling
sea touches the night sky.
Gabrielle is across the way, working on her scrolls, writing out the story of
the contest, I assume. I love to watch her at work -- her face is so
expressive, it almost tells a story as she's writing it. One minute she will be
smiling and even giggling, the next she'll be frowning, that little crease
between her brows that tells me she's either searching for the right words, or
pondering what something means. The best part, other than I get to watch her
and she's too distracted to be inhibited by that, is that I will get to hear a
new story when she's done.
Of course, I love watching her anytime, but this is an especially fine evening,
with a light cool breeze and lots of little stars twinkling overhead. It's
growing later, and colder in the year, and if I close my eyes and inhale deeply
enough, I can smell snow up there in the clouds to the far horizon. It probably
won't fall down here, but up in the mountains, they are likely already getting
a dusting of it.
I love snow. It might be cold and wet, but I love the silence, and the soft
crunch of it beneath my boots. Everything is sharper and clearer, somehow. I
love the cleansing feeling that comes over me when I'm surrounded by it -- the
fog of my breath in the air and I especially love being alone in it. But not
this year. This year, I think I'm going to enjoy having someone to snuggle up
with while we watch it fall.
Gabrielle gets cold a lot easier than I do. Even now, she's wrapped up in a
blanket and has her cloak on beneath that. I'm still amazed that two people as
different as she and I are, got together. I'm discovering love is one of life's
greatest inexplicable mysteries.
Like this pageant. Once we were in it, her competitive side came out full
force. By the gods, she wanted me to win, to the point I think she forgot why
we were there. She certainly forgot she hates beauty contests. I shake my head
a little, and smile.
Me -- I didn't give a rat's ass about winning, except I had to stay in until
the end to get to the bottom of who was trying to harm those women, and why. It
was nice to help some of them see they didn't need to stake their future and
their fortune on their faces and figures. Most women never make it past their
home villages -- they go from being cared for by their fathers, to being cared
for by their husbands. That's a sad fact of this world -- most women never get
the chance to find out what they're really made of and very few realize they
have choices.
I'm glad I was able to give that to Gabrielle -- glad to give her an option
other than life in Potadeia, and I'd feel that way even if things hadn't turned
out the way they have between us. And I'm glad she got the chance to see those
women stand up for themselves. She was, after all, a part of that. It's one
thing to save lives, and quite another to help change them as part of the
bargain. It feels good to know we did that.
And it felt damned good to watch Miss Artifice walk down that runway. I think
everyone got what they wanted, when all was said and done. Funny -- of everyone
there, Artifice and I had the most in common. Neither of us were what we
appeared to be on the surface, both of us masking our more masculine sides and
trying to be some perfect example of femininity that neither one of us will
ever be, once we're stripped of all the trappings.
Sure, I can look at my naked body, and see that I'm a woman. I don't think
there's any doubt of that. And I feel like a woman. It's not like Artifice,
whom I suspect feels like the gender she wasn't born to. I don't know what that
feels like, but I do know what it's like to be different, and to have people
look down on you for not conforming to what they expect you to be.
It takes guts to strike out in the world and fight to be what you feel you
should be. In that regard, Artifice has a strength greater than anyone else in
that pageant -- it must be a lot harder to be a man trying to be a woman, than
a woman trying to make her way in a man's world. At least I think it probably
is. Sure, I left home to become a warrior, and I don't want to dwell, tonight,
on how badly that spun out of control. But I didn't leave home because I was
brave. I left because I had no choice. Maybe Artifice did the same. Maybe she
was driven away because they couldn't stand to have her around anymore.
Maybe we are even more alike than I originally thought.
Among the children in my village, I was the tall, strong one, quiet and
dreaming dreams that were far removed from those of the other girls in
Amphipolis. None of them would ever believe I represented our village in a
beauty pageant, much less that I won, even if I didn't accept the title. I
grin, and then chuckle quietly. Too bad we don't have a painting of me in that
gown, just to prove it. Mother may never believe me. Guess I'll have to rely on
Gabrielle's story to convince her.
I can dress up and play the part, but it never feels completely right, until
I'm back in my clothes -- my leathers and armor, and my weapons at my side. That's
who I am. It's what I'm comfortable being -- a warrior. But it was nice, for a
short time, to just be thought of as a woman.
"Xena?" I look up and smile, and see that smile reflected back at me.
And that feels better than anything I felt during that pageant.
"Yes?" I lean over and pour her up a cup of tea. She looks cold.
"Why do you think Miss Artifice dresses like a woman?" She nibbles on
her quill, that little frown of puzzlement etched across her forehead.
"Well --" I step across and sit down next to her, and hand her the
warm cup. She looks up at me gratefully and our eyes meet, and I know my face
must look as goofy in love as hers does at this moment. I tweak her nose.
"Thanks." She inhales the steam. "Mmmmmm. Honey and mint."
She takes a sip and my heart is warmed, just by the simple pleasure on her face
as she swallows. "Why?" She opens her eyes, her question not
forgotten.
"Hmmm." I trail a fingertip lazily along her thigh, while I talk.
"Sometimes, I think people are born in the wrong bodies. They might look
one way on the outside, but feel completely another on the inside. Does that
make sense?"
She purses her lips and thinks about this for a moment, slowly sipping her tea.
"I think so." She looks over at me. "Do you ever feel that way?"
My eyes widen, and I laugh. "Not the way Artifice does. I don't have any
desire to . . . um . . . have a man's parts."
She giggles at this. "Good, because I like your girl parts."
"Do you, now?" I reach up and tilt her face toward me, and indulge in
a long kiss. "Glad you do. I kind of like yours, too. But I do know what
it feels like to not fit in where you live, and feel the need to leave because
of it. And I think you do, too, my bard."
Her face grows sober at this. "Oh. Wow. I guess I do." She frowns.
"I'm sorry now that I made fun of him. Her. Even if it was just to you, in
private. Gods, that must be confusing to Artifice, because it sure is to
me." She peers over at me, her eyes a little sad. "Maybe everyone
isn't so different, deep down inside. You think?"
"Maybe." I lean over and rest my head against hers. "I think
most people want to feel loved for who they are, and when they don't get that,
stuff goes wrong inside."
"Wow, that's very profound of you, Xena." She nudges me to take the
bite out of her tease.
"Hey, bard!" I wrap an arm around her and my fingers find her ribs,
giving her a few tickles and pokes.
"Oh!" She squirms. "Ow! Xena, stop it!" She slaps playfully
at my hand and I relent, easing up, just my thumb stroking the baby-soft skin I
found inside that cloak. "Better," she whispers, and finds my lips. I
love it when she does that, and I eagerly return her affections. After a bit,
we end up snuggled together, wrapped up inside her blanket.
She sighs and lays her scroll and quill aside. "Figures you'd be the one
to sum up humanity in a nutshell. You have everything -- you're strong, and
smart, and so beautiful. It's why I . . ." She shakes her head and trails
off. "Nevermind."
"Nevermind, what?" I bump my body against hers a little, urging her
to finish her sentence. There's something going on behind those green eyes, and
I saw some of it back in our room at the pageant headquarters. She'd look
around at all the festivities, and this little expression would cross her face.
I haven't quite figured out what it means, but it was often enough I haven't
forgotten it.
"Just . . ." She huffs out a breath and twirls the tie to her cloak
around a finger in an agitated manner. "I wanted you to win so badly,
Xena. You're . . . everything. And me . . . I'm a part of you now . . . it was
the only way I'd ever know . . ." She shakes her head again. "I was
so proud of you, that you won."
"Why was that so important, sweetheart?" I reach over and touch her
cheek, and she trembles a little. "Only way you'd ever know . . .
what?"
"Only way I might ever know what winning a beauty contest would feel
like." She gestures down at herself. "Look at me. I'm short, and kind
of plain, and my ears are too big. No one is ever going to look at me and see a
beautiful woman."
Oh, Gabrielle. My heart twists inside. Why didn't I see this before? "You
are soooo wrong, my love." She's looking down, and I reach over again,
forcing her to look at me. "You are the most beautiful person on earth, in
my eyes." I kiss her gently.
"I know that should be enough." She blinks and reddens a little.
"And it means so much, to know you see me that way." She frowns.
"But I wish . . . sometimes I wish other people saw me, the way . .
."
"The way they see me?" I hazard a guess, finishing her sentence for
her. She nods, her eyes still sad. "Gabrielle, I think . . . I'm tall . .
. and I wear all this intimidating armor and I carry weapons. I mean, I kind of
fill up a doorway, you know?" She nods again, this time with a smile
playing at her lips. "So, yeah, people are going to look at me -- I'm
probably kind of hard to miss."
"But . . ."
I touch her lips. "Let me finish." I trace her lips with a fingertip,
just for good measure. I'll never get tired of being this close to her, but . .
. I smile and shake my head at the irony of this conversation. Her beauty
drives me to distraction, even as I'm trying to make her see just how drop dead
gorgeous she is. "I'm not the only one who sees your fair features, my
bard. Do you know how many men . . . and women . . . can't keep their eyes off
you, once they see you?" She shakes her head, this time. "How many
times I feared one of them would catch your eye as well, and I'd lose you
forever? And . . . " I stroke her hair now, feeling its soft silkiness
sifting through my fingers. "Did you know Ephiny told me half the Amazon
nation has a crush on you?"
Her eyes grow round as saucers. "Really?"
"Really" I chuckle, as she covers her eyes with one hand. then she
peeks out between her fingers.
"For real?"
"Cross my heart." And I do so, then I press my forehead against hers.
"So don't you ever go thinking you're not beautiful, Gabrielle. You turn
heads everywhere you go, people falling over themselves to get your attention.
I was just the one lucky enough to actually get it."
"And keep it," she whispers in my ear. A tingle runs down my spine.
"Thank you." Her lips press against my neck, and then she makes a
lazy path up my jaw line, finding my lips. Gods, that feels good. I take her in
both arms, now, and pull her against me, taking my time conveying just how much
her beauty appeals to me.
"Hey." She pulls back and looks up. "It's snowing."
I look up with her, and hold out a hand. Sure enough, a few dainty flakes fall
to my palm and melt there. She reaches over and dusts a few out of my hair.
"Beautiful," she sighs dreamily.
I capture her eyes, then look her up and down once, before meeting them again,
holding her gaze, feeling this strong connection between us.
"Beautiful?" I kiss her again, escalating things until she's
breathing hard against me, her hands wandering leisurely over my body with a
mind of their own. I slowly break off our kiss and hold her, with her body
dipped back a bit, balanced in the cradle of my arms. I touch her face, an
almost reverent gesture. "Beautiful." I repeat myself. "Oh,
yeah."
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Next in the BTL series -- Death Be Not Proud
(post "Destiny")