Equal To The Gods
by LadyKate
 

CHAPTER 1

Leaning back against a bale of hay, Ares reflected with mild surprise that he was in a pretty good mood.

Of course, it was ludicrous for a god -- all right, a former god, but especially the former God of War -- to be even remotely content under the circumstances. Here he was on a dilapidated old farm, hiding from a bunch of homicidal warlords who'd put a bounty on his now-mortal head, wearing what looked like some bedraggled peasant's hand-me-downs. Various parts of him were still aching from the tumble he'd taken earlier trying to fix the roof, and from getting roughed up by one of the bounty hunters while posing as a farmer to fool them. And yet as he sat in the sunlit barn, stroking the shaggy fur of the mutt who had befriended him and watching the love of his life milk a cow, he was -- well, he was actually enjoying himself.

He did hope that before this rustic interlude was over, Xena's irritating little friend would go off somewhere and give them some time alone. He had another chance with her, he could feel it, no matter what she'd told him before about a one-in-a-billion shot. She cared about him, or else she wouldn't have taken him to her grandparents' farm after learning that the warlords were after him. Admittedly, it was humiliating to hide instead of fighting them at her side, as he had wanted. But things had been so good between them these past couple of days -- the comfortable closeness -- the playful bickering -- the way she talked about how great it was that they could all sit together in front of the fire ...

Xena's voice spilled into his reverie. "Double squeeze takes too long."

"Nah, you get more milk that way. It's easier on the cow." Gabrielle giggled as Xena sent a little jet of milk in her direction.

Ares shook his head and laughed. "The Warrior Princess and the Battling Bard, discussing the correct technique for milking a cow. Absurd -- and yet at the same time..." -- he paused to let them think he was about to say something sappy -- "... ridiculous."

Xena shot him a wry look, pointing a finger at him. "It's important."

He chuckled, watching as she returned to her task. The brown country-girl dress she was wearing was just as preposterous as the rest of this setup -- but damn, she looked good in it, the light fabric clinging to the curves of her body, her relaxed posture only hinting at the graceful strength of her limbs…

There was a noise outside, and Horace stirred, pricking up his ears. Then, a squeaky though identifiably male sing-song called out, "Hello? Anyone there?"

"In here!" said Gabrielle.

A gray-bearded man wearing a turban and long motley robes pranced into the barn.

"I'm sorry to bother you," he said with an unctuous little bow, "but I was wondering if anyone had seen my dog."

"Your dog," Ares repeated, with a sudden, embarrassing flutter of anxiety in his chest.  Before he could continue, Horace yelped and jumped to his feet.

"Tha- tha- that's him!" The man's wrinkly face spread in a broad grin. "That's him! It's really him! It's Milo!"

"This is your dog?" Xena asked.

"Ye-es," the man drawled. "I was passing through here a couple of weeks ago -- I'm a peddler, you understand -- and he ran off during a thunderstorm. Milo, you bad boy -- I've looked for you everywhere! Did you find him here?"

"Yeah," Gabrielle said. "He was running around the grounds."

"And stealing us blind," Xena chimed in.

"Oh, oh -- " the peddler chuckled apologetically -- "that's my Milo all right. He loves to take things and bury them..."

"You ought to keep a better eye on your damn dog," Ares snapped. Oh no... he was not getting upset over this!

"Sorry, so sorry, sir. I hope he wasn't too much trouble. Well, this is definitely my lucky day... Here, boy!"

The dog turned to Ares and looked at him with those funny eyes of his, one blue and one gray, and then nuzzled him and licked his face. Ares blinked. Great -- anytime now he was going to start bawling like a kid who'd lost a toy. He lifted his hand and patted Horace on the head.

"Maybe he wants to stay here," Gabrielle said.

"Here you go!" The old man was waving a bone he had produced from his pocket. "Come to Daddy, Milo!"

The fickle animal bounded toward his master, but then froze in place and turned back to look at Ares, tail wagging uncertainly, confusion written all over his spotted muzzle. After taking a few steps toward Ares, he fidgeted, whimpered and trudged toward the old man, only to stop again and turn his head, barking a couple of times as if pleading for help. The peddler resolved the dog's plight by walking over and picking him up.

"Thank you for taking care of him!" he said, beaming. "I just can't tell you how glad I am to have him back. Come on, pooch!"

The dog gave another plaintive yelp as the old man waddled away from the barn. Ares rose to his feet, staring after them. Xena came up and gave him a sympathetic squeeze on the shoulder, and he realized that his distress was plain on his face.

"Damn," he muttered.

"Hey," Xena said. "Sorry about that."

"I'm going to change," Ares said abruptly and headed for the house.

Mortality sucks, he thought savagely as he pulled off the peasant togs and kicked them into a corner. Physical pain and discomfort were bad enough; he had been prepared to deal with that, from his previous brief experiences as a mortal. Being at the mercy of his emotions like this was far worse. It was one thing to get agitated over Xena -- she'd had that effect on him even as a god, though not nearly to the same degree -- but some stupid animal? All right, so he'd started to like having the mutt around and to enjoy its overeager affection. So he'd gotten a ridiculously warm and fuzzy feeling when the dog tried to defend him during the confrontation with Gascar's men. Still, it wasn't as if he had lost anything important...

Back in his leather pants, Ares came out into the main room of the house. A single sunbeam that cut through the shadows, with golden specks of dust shimmering in its soft haze, gave just enough light to show what a mess the place was, and made the rest of the room seem even murkier. Xena stood by the rickety table, pouring milk from the bucket into a tall clay jar. The women stopped their conversation and looked at him.

"What?"

"Gabrielle is going to try to get your furry friend back," Xena said.

"You mean, go after the old codger, kick the crap out of him and grab Horace? I approve."

"No," Gabrielle said, giving him a tolerant little grin. "I'm going to talk to him. Try telling him that maybe Horace will be better off staying here."

"Hmph." He cocked an eyebrow at her. "I guess those people skills of yours may be good for something."

"Thank you, Gabrielle," Xena said rather pointedly, pressing Gabrielle's hand. The bard smiled back at her and went outside.

Things were definitely looking up, Ares thought as he listened to the fading hoofbeat. Then he realized that he was alone with her, and he hadn't the slightest idea what to say.

"You want some?" Xena asked.

He flinched. "Huh?"

"Milk." He thought she actually blushed a bit but it was hard to tell in the semi-dark room. "You want some milk?"

"Yeah, sure."

She poured the white, frothy liquid into a mug and handed it to him. Ares took a sip and gave her a startled look. Xena lifted an eyebrow.

"Don't tell me you've never had milk before."

"It's ... warm."

"Well, of course. It's fresh from the source."

He quirked his lips and sniffed, wincing a little, but finally decided to drink it. It was creamy, with a sweetish taste. He drained the mug and put it down.

Xena looked at him with a faint smile. "You have..."

"What?"

She reached out and ran her fingers over his mustache, brushing his lips. Suddenly struggling for breath, Ares wondered dizzily what she would do if he kissed her fingers. She pulled her hand away, a little too abruptly.

"There... it's off."

He couldn't think of anything coherent to say, or anything to do except stare at her, breathing in the faint scent of her sweat. Funny how in this half-darkness, her eyes seemed light brown instead of the usual piercing blue... Her mouth opened slightly; then she clamped it shut, her jaw rigid. His ears were ringing, and he felt as if he'd been hit by a gust of icy wind followed by a blast of hot air.

Xena turned away and put a lid on the milk jar, then moved about some mugs and bowls on the table. After a pause that seemed like it would never end, she said, "Don't be upset. If Gabrielle doesn't get Horace back, we'll get you another dog."

"I don't want another dog. I want Horace."

She turned back toward him and smiled again -- and then, without really thinking, he took her hand, looking straight at her, and said, "I don't want another woman, either."

"You only want Horace?" she joked feebly, but her eyes were soft and almost fearful. Holding his breath, he moved a little closer. Xena tilted her head, her eyes half-lidded now, and they both leaned forward, almost imperceptibly, until their lips touched.

Slowly, they deepened the kiss; Ares took Xena in his arms and felt her arms lock around him. Her body was warm and supple, her full breasts pushing up against him, her nipples hard under the thin fabric. Ares' heart was nearly jumping out of his chest, and his arousal was both intensely pleasurable and almost painful, trapped as he was in the tight leather. For once, this kiss was both tender and passionate, and as her tongue caressed his lips and swirled inside his mouth he thought dimly that one could die from such bliss.

When he opened his eyes, her face was flushed, her lips swollen. He bent down and kissed her neck, savoring the tender skin, feeling the beat of her pulse underneath. She moaned softly and moved her hands down, stroking his back.

Ares lifted his head and whispered raggedly, "So -- how long do you think we have before your little sidekick walks through that door?"

Before he'd finished saying it, he knew it had been the wrong thing to say. Xena's body tensed immediately, and then she was pushing him away and wrenching herself out of his arms.

"I can't do this," she murmured breathlessly.

He stepped back and gaped at her, bewildered.

"What's the matter?"

"I can't..." She looked down. "I can't ... this is wrong."

"Wrong?" He was getting angry; she couldn't be playing games with him, not now, not anymore. "Why?"

Xena finally raised her eyes and gave him an odd, guilty look.

"I can't do this -- to Gabrielle."

"Gabrielle?" He squinted at her. Unbelievable. Of all the excuses... "What in Tartarus does this have to do with Gabrielle? What, she thinks I'm so hideously evil that she can't stand the thought of your being with me? And this is after I -- "

"Ares." Xena shook her head. She looked like she was bracing herself for something, and all of a sudden he was afraid. "Gabrielle and I -- " She tarried for another moment and took the plunge. "Has it ever occurred to you that Gabrielle and I were -- more than friends?"

"More than -- friends," he repeated, stupefied. It was just a joke, she was just teasing, he told himself even as he knew with perfect clarity that it was true. His mouth was very dry, and the room now seemed a lot darker than before. He leaned heavily back against the table. There was a loud thud; something wet and thick covered his hand, and he realized he'd knocked over the milk jar.

"Damn," Xena muttered. She quickly set the jar upright to salvage whatever was left and grabbed a rag to mop up the milk.

"You and Gabrielle..." Ares tried to collect his thoughts. "You mean, you -- you prefer girls."

She stopped mopping. "It's not about preferring girls... You know it's not about -- not wanting you. It's about ... me and Gabrielle, that's all."

"Oh, it's all about you and Gabrielle." For a moment everything else he felt was pushed back by a surge of anger. "And that's why you were kissing me just now -- "

She flinched slightly and stiffened. Then she started mopping again.

"So how long has this been going on?"

Xena said nothing, and he repeated, "For how long?"

"Since ... " She sighed. "Since about three years after we first met."

"And it never occurred to you to tell me about this?"

"Like when?" Her voice suddenly had a hard edge.

"Oh I don't know." He didn't want to sound bitter and sarcastic, but something inside him was goading him on. "Like when I told you I was willing to give up my godhood and take on all the other gods to protect you and your kid -- if I could spend the rest of my life with you. That might have been your cue to say, 'You're wasting your time, Ares, I already have a girlfriend.'"

Throwing aside the soaked rag, Xena whipped around. Her eyes were narrow and bright.

"You mean, when you were using my baby's life as a bargaining chip to get me into bed? You think I owed you an explanation then?"

He felt the blood pounding in his temples. If she had punched him in the face, it would have hurt less.

"It wasn't like that," he said, his voice breaking. "I loved you -- you know I did..."

Her glare dissolved into a sympathetic, rather pained look. "Ares... what's past is past -- I don't want to rehash that. You know you didn't give me a lot of reasons to trust you, back then." She paused. "And besides -- I always thought that maybe you knew and didn't care."

"You thought I knew?"

"Well -- after all, you were a god."

"Yeah, rub it in, why don't you," he snapped. "'Really, Ares, for a god, you were blind as a bat!'"

"I didn't mean it that way."

Ares stared silently at his boots, breathing hard.

After a while, she said, "I always told you we couldn't be together..."

"Dammit. All this time, I thought that if I could just prove myself -- prove that I loved you, that I wasn't bad for you..." His throat clenched painfully and he trailed off.

"I'm sorry," she said, putting a hand on his arm. He shuddered and moved away.

"Don't touch me."

There was another silence. Then he said, "And I saved her for you. If that doesn't make me the world's biggest chump..."

"Maybe it makes you very noble," Xena said quietly.

He gave a short, nasty laugh. "Noble?"

"Once, Gab- –" she stumbled a bit -- "I helped some peasants defend themselves from a gang of thugs who were preying on the local villages. There was one man, Timeas... he had been engaged to his childhood sweetheart, except she fell in love with another man -- the new village schoolteacher -- and ended up marrying him. One night, about a month before we got there, the bandits attacked and torched some houses, and the school too. The teacher was inside -- he'd gone in to copy some scrolls and fallen asleep at his desk. No one knew he was there, and by the time they heard him screaming, everyone thought it was too dangerous to go in. And Timeas went in and rescued him." She paused and added, almost wistfully, "We fought side by side against the bandits later, Timeas and I. He was one of the best men I've ever met."

Maybe she was right, Ares thought; at least he'd made her happy by giving Gabrielle back to her. Then he was furious, at her and at himself. She had led him on and used him -- and now she was trying to pacify him with a feelgood story, and he was lapping it up.

"So what happened to this paragon of virtue?" he asked caustically.

Xena's eyes flickered. "I -- I don't know."

He gave her a probing look.

"You do know, don't you? Only it messes up the moral of your story. What, he ran off with the girl later on?"

"No," Xena said slowly. "He ... he left the village and went to a nearby town to start a new life."

"And then what?"

She avoided his eyes. "He started drinking... He got worse and worse, until he ended up begging in the streets. I heard he died a few years later."

"So your hero drank himself to death. Not a bad idea."

He walked briskly into the back room where he had left his things, and put on his vest. Then he remembered that he had no money. His ring; that should do.

When he came out, Xena stood by the door, a worried look on her face.

"Where are you going?"

"To start a new life. In the first tavern I can find."

"Ares ..." She reached out toward him.

"No."

"Ares, listen to me." She put her hands on his shoulders and he wanted to push her away, but her touch was so warm, so gentle. "Please ... I don't want to see you hurt."

"It's a little too late for that," he said hoarsely.

"Please -- after everything we've been through, can't you just -- be glad knowing that we're friends now -- that I care about you?"

Her eyes were tender and a little moist, and Ares knew his anger was slipping away. He wanted so badly to kiss her again.

He swallowed. "Xena..."

Just then, footsteps creaked on the porch. Xena stepped back abruptly. The front door swung open and Gabrielle announced, "I'm back!"

She came in and gave him an apologetic smile. "Ares ... sorry, but I wasn't able to get Horace back -- the man wouldn't even hear of parting with him. Now, don't look so glum," she added brightly, "we'll get -- "

"You," Ares said, almost choking with rage. A memory came over him of how the two of them had played him in Amphipolis years ago -- how Xena had promised herself to him if he protected her child from Athena, and Gabrielle put on a show of distress to convince him that the offer was for real -- and how the little bitch stood there and smirked when, after helping Xena, he realized he'd been tricked. It had been annoying enough then; now, the thought that all that time, she actually had what he so desperately desired nearly drove him mad.

She blinked at him, puzzled. "What?"

"I bet you got off on knowing how much I wanted her -- didn't you," he snarled. "I should have slapped that smug little grin right off your face."

Gabrielle's stunned, open-mouthed look might have given Ares a small measure of satisfaction, but he felt too wretched even for that. He swept past her, deliberately jostling her, and walked out.

* ~ * ~ *

Recovering somewhat from the shock, Gabrielle started to ask, "What was -- ?" but was cut short by the alarmed neighing of her horse, left tied by the porch. That was followed by a rapidly receding clatter of hooves.

"Oh, great!"

She dashed outside, with Xena behind her, just in time to see Ares galloping away.

Xena put a hand on her shoulder. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah." Gabrielle glanced at her warily. "What's going on?"

"I'm going after him." Xena's face had the intense yet emotionless look of total focus that Gabrielle knew so well. She stepped off the porch but Gabrielle gripped her arm.

"Wait, wait. What happened?"

"I'll tell you later."

Gabrielle's bewilderment was giving way to a vague dread.

"No," she said quietly, making Xena turn around with a start. "Tell me now."

Xena stared at her silently, biting her lip. Gabrielle thought back to what Ares had said; it could only mean one thing.

"You told him about us."

"Yes, I did."

"Why?"

"I had to, Gabrielle. I couldn't keep stringing him along."

Gabrielle frowned slightly. "And how did your conversation happen to take that turn?"

Xena looked down, and just then Gabrielle realized that something odd had caught her eye when she came into the house, before she was distracted by Ares' outburst. She peered inside through the half-open door. There were white streaks on the floor and the tabletop, and a sopping wet rag on the edge of the table that dripped a grayish liquid.

She looked at Xena again, and wondered how she could have missed it before -- the shiny puffiness of her lips, the reddening spot on her neck. Something inside Gabrielle's chest coiled into a knot, momentarily squeezing the breath out of her.

"Of course. I leave you alone with Ares for half an hour and you're already knocking over milk jars!"

Xena flinched. "Look, nothing really happened..."

"Really. Well, I'd hate to see your idea of something." The words were burning Gabrielle's throat; she knew she was being nasty and vicious yet she still wanted to say those things, to punish both Xena and herself. After everything they'd been through together -- to think that Xena would risk throwing it all away because she'd taken a fancy to Ares! Then again, Gabrielle thought, she should have known ... maybe she had known. Xena had always wanted Ares, and now that he was mortal, now that she didn't have to be afraid that he'd pull her into the darkness...

She shook her head bitterly.

"I should have known."

"Gabrielle -- dammit, Ares just rode off alone -- unarmed." Xena's voice dropped to a hiss. "There's an army out there trying to kill him. This really isn't the time for a jealous spat!"

Gabrielle knew she should be furious, but she felt too numb for that -- too numb even to find any comfort in Xena's horrified look.

"Oh, Gabrielle -- " Xena reached out to touch her but Gabrielle shrank back. "I didn't mean that, I didn't mean it that way ... Please trust me -- nothing happened, I stopped it -- I stopped it because of you..."

"Oh, because of me," Gabrielle said quietly. She couldn't let it go, not this easily. "I'm sorry I'm keeping you from what you really want."

"No -- you know it's not true..." Tears were welling in Xena's eyes. "All I want is to spend the rest of my life with you... I swear, nothing is going to change that."

Gabrielle didn't resist when Xena hugged her and stroked her hair and her neck -- but she stiffened her body, not wanting just yet to give in to the hold of those strong arms, to the touch of those hands that had enough tenderness in them to make her feel loved no matter what. At last she relaxed, shivering a bit, and hid her face in Xena's shoulder.

Her soft breath touching Gabrielle's hair, Xena whispered, "I would never betray you. You believe me, don't you?"

Did she? What they had, Gabrielle told herself, was so much greater and deeper than any attraction Xena might feel toward Ares. The thought of Xena in Ares' arms, kissing him, making those low throaty sounds she made when she was excited, still clawed at Gabrielle from inside; but how could she doubt that they would always be together? Of course I believe you. She nodded, pressing her face deeper into Xena's shoulder.

Xena leaned over and kissed her cheek and let her lips slide down, barely brushing the skin, until she touched Gabrielle's mouth. Her eyes closed now, Gabrielle parted her lips, tentatively at first, then responding completely. Right now, it was just the two of them; there was no Ares, no one else in the whole world.

Pulling back, Xena looked at her with a faint, tender smile. Then she said almost pleadingly, "I have to go find him. He's going to get in trouble out there -- Gabrielle, we promised to help him -- "

I can deal with it. Gabrielle managed a mischievous half-grin.

"Go. Just try not to be too helpful."

"Gabrielle!"

"I'm joking." She reached up and quickly pressed her lips to Xena's. "I trust you. Be careful, okay?" Catching Xena's look, Gabrielle smiled wanly and shook her head. "I don't mean that way. Go on."

* ~ * ~ *

By the time Xena got to the main road, finding Ares' tracks was hopeless; it seemed like half the people in the province had picked that particular time to pass through. As she rode toward the nearest local tavern, her mind was focused completely on the practical task before her: find Ares and get him back to the farm. Everything else could wait -- had to wait.

Ares wasn't in that tavern, or in the one she checked out after that. She was not going to let herself panic and lose concentration. Everything was going to be okay.

Dusk was already falling when she rode up to yet another tavern, The One-Eyed Ox. She heard raucous laughter and singing coming from inside, and at the same moment spotted Gabrielle's mare, Clio, among the horses tethered outside. She only stopped breathing for a moment.

Giving Argo a quick pat on the neck, Xena dismounted. She was still in her country frock -- there had been no point in changing into her leathers, and if anything, it was best not to attract extra attention under the circumstances -- but she had taken her sword, just in case. Briefly, she pondered whether to take the weapon inside. A farm girl with a really big sword would certainly attract attention, both to herself and to Ares; besides, it didn't sound like Ares was in danger from anything more lethal than cheap booze.

She left the sword hooked to Argo's saddle and strode into the murkily lit tavern. The air inside was heavy with the reek of wine fumes, rancid oil and unwashed human bodies, with an added whiff of vomit which a serving girl crouched on the floor was in the process of cleaning up.

"Hey, lady," the barkeep called out. "What'll it be?"

"Nothing, thanks."

"Just so you know, all the drinks are free."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "What is it, ladies' night?"

"Ladies', gentlemen's, you name it," the man chortled, baring a set of crooked yellow teeth. "Some clown's buying for everyone tonight."

"Really," Xena said icily. She had the bad feeling that she knew exactly who the "clown" was. "How did that happen?"

"Fella walks in and hands me this ring and asks how much it'll buy." The barkeep gave her a broad "can't believe my luck" grin. "And I go, that should be enough to buy drinks for everyone in the place. So he goes, then I'm buying." He shook his head and laughed. "So, you havin' anything?"

Xena gave him a scorching look and turned away, scanning the establishment. A particularly noisy bunch, belting out a song horribly out of tune and out of unison, had gathered in one corner.

She saw him -- his hair messy and slick with sweat, his vest open, leaning on the stained, wet table with a large chipped wine jug and several half-empty cups on it. He was apparently trying to sing along with the rest of the crowd. Plastered against him was a redhead in serious peril of falling out of her dress.

Resolutely ignoring the spasm that clenched around her heart, Xena marched up to Ares.

"Androcles." She stressed the name they had agreed on using in front of strangers. "There you are."

The singing stopped, two or three stragglers still carrying on for a few hoarse notes. Ares looked up at her, his eyes glassy and bloodshot.

"Xe - na." He hiccupped loudly. "What an uness -- unex -- " He shook his head and gave up. "What a -- surprise."

"Let's go home," she said.

"Home?" Ares laughed shrilly. "I don't have a home."

"Sure you do." She tried to touch his arm but he pushed her hand away.

"See, Xena, I don't need you anymore." His eyes were alive again, alive and wounded. "'Cause I got lots -- lotsa new f... friends." In a sweeping gesture, he indicated his fellow revelers. "And I have a girl, too," he added, drawing an arm around the redhead's waist. "C'mere, baby."

The girl obligingly perched herself on Ares' knee and glued herself to his mouth, to cheers and claps from the other patrons.

"Way to go, Chloe," called out a fat middle-aged woman.

Xena pressed her lips into a rigid line. Dammit -- she had to get him out of there.

Ares turned to her with a bitter sneer.

"See, she's not like you," he said. "She's nice. And she likes me."

The only way she could get them both through this was to steel herself, not to let anything he said reach a part of her where it could hurt.

"You're the best, honey," Chloe giggled.

Xena's eyes fell on the bauble that shone dimly between the girl's breasts. It was Ares' dagger pendant. That was too much.

"What are you doing with that?"

The girl looked offended. "Hey -- he gave it to me!"

"Thass right... I did." Ares nodded, looking for a moment like he was falling asleep; then he snapped his head up. "She asked me nicely and I let her have it." He planted a wet kiss on Chloe's plump freckled shoulder. "You can have anything you want, baby ... ess... except my heart. See, I already gave it to her -- " he waved at Xena -- "and she chewed it up and spat it out."

It was getting to her, no matter how she tried.

"These people taught me a great song," he said. "You wanna hear?"

"No," Xena said, but he was already singing hoarsely:

"I fell in love with a beautiful girl
As cold and cruel as Death.
She said: To prove your love is true,
Cut your heart out of your breast.

And I -- "

He faltered, hiccupped again and broke into a fit of coughing. Xena heard snickering, and felt a surge of rage at the thought that a bunch of lowlifes in a cheap tavern were laughing at him. It wasn't that she had ever had much respect for the status of the gods -- but to see him like this ...

"That's enough," she said, her voice steady. She wasn't looking at Ares; right now, she had to get his damn pendant back. "Are you going to give that thing back like a good girl, or do I have to make you give it back?"

"Who are you?" the girl squealed. "His wife?"

"How did you guess?" It was just a good cover story; nothing personal.

Chloe gave her a nervous look, starting to vacillate.

"She's not my wife," Ares said. He rubbed his temples, winced and blinked rapidly, as if trying to clear the fog. "She could've been. She coulda had ... she coulda had everything -- and you oughta see what she chose instead -- "

Focus. She couldn't let it get to her, she couldn't.

Xena held out her hand, glaring at the girl.

"Well?"

"Hey, Chloe!" the barkeep yelled. "Give it back, will ya? I don't want no trouble in here."

Pouting, the girl took off the pendant and threw it down; it landed in a thin pool of wine next to an obscenity someone had carved crookedly into the table's surface. Xena picked it up and turned to Ares.

"Come on, honey. I'm taking you home."

"Aren't you... aren't you lissening to me?" His voice rose. "I don't fucking need you anymore! I was havin' fun here... till you showed up, okay?" His eyes glistened angrily. "No, no -- wait ... I do need you for one thing. All my friends here... they didn't believe me when I told 'em who I was ... I mean, who I am... used to be.... you know what I mean. You tell 'em." He turned to the crowd. "See, she knows."

The chill went right down to the pit of Xena's stomach. As much as she hated to humiliate him, the hideous danger he was in overshadowed everything else.

"So which god is it today?" she said, managing to sound glib and scornful. "Apollo? Hermes? Maybe Zeus himself? You and your drunken fantasies..."

There was more snickering around the table.

"Liar!" His angry shout had a plaintive edge. "Don't listen to her... I'm Ares, God of War... I mean I was... until she was done with me..."

"Sure, and I'm Aphrodite." She came closer. "Come along, God of War. Let's go."

"I'm not going anywhere with you..." Ares grimaced. "You hate me. Leave me alone."

"I don't hate you," Xena said, leaning toward him. Then she kissed him. There wasn't anything pleasant about this kiss, with the cheap wine on his breath and the sour taste in his mouth, and yet something tugged at her heart as he closed his eyes and moaned softly. She pulled away. When he opened his eyes again, all the resistance in them was gone.

"Let's go," she said again, stroking his cheek, ignoring scattered catcalls and guffaws in the audience.

"Okay," he said meekly and got up, leaning on her arm.

As they walked to the door, with Ares shuffling his feet and slumping on her shoulder, a hush fell over the tavern, except for one person cackling somewhere in a corner. Xena had the dreamlike feeling that they were making an escape, and all those people were waiting to pounce on them but couldn't move, frozen under some kind of spell. She thought of trying to get Ares' ring back from the barkeep, but there was no way she could pay for all those drinks. Besides, she just wanted to get out as soon as possible.

* ~ * ~ *

The daylight was gone when they came out, the cool air buzzing with insects drawn to the dim light of the tavern windows. No one followed them; moments after their exit, the shouting and singing inside picked up again. Just off the porch, Ares' legs buckled, and he sagged heavily on Xena's arm and sank to his knees on a patch of sparse, much-trampled grass. Xena tried to help him up, but he lurched forward and she heard the sounds of retching.

Looking around, she saw the well, luckily only a few steps away. She lowered the bucket and drew it up as quickly as she could, gritting her teeth as the handle creaked and groaned at every turn. Filling the dipper with ice-cold water, she brought it to Ares and held it for him while he drank greedily and splashed the water on his face. He grunted and gasped for breath and tried to get up, leaning on her arm. "I've got you," she said, gripping his forearms, "I've got you" -- but his legs gave out and he sank down again. She sighed and went over to get the bucket.

"Sorry," she whispered, almost to herself, and poured the rest of the water over his head.

Ares coughed and spluttered and cursed, and then looked up at her, blinking in confusion, his mouth open. Her heart clenched again; she was glad no one could see them, and hoped that he wouldn't remember too much of this.

This time, Xena was able to haul him to his feet and steer him toward the horses. There was no way he was going to ride on his own. It took her a good deal of effort to get him up on Argo before climbing in the saddle behind him. Argo snorted and tossed her head in displeasure.

"Sorry 'bout that, girl," she said, stroking the mare's side.

Ares leaned back against her, shivering, the cold water trickling down his neck and under his vest.

"I'm..." -- his voice broke for a moment, his teeth chattering -- "I'm always causing you trouble..."

"Shh..." She rubbed his upper arms and then hugged him, trying to get him warm. "It's okay..."

She had to give Argo a few prods with her heels before the mare trudged off. Gradually, Ares stopped trembling and his breathing grew regular, and moments later he was fast asleep.

As they rode home at a slow trot, with the obedient Clio bringing up the rear, Xena knew that the danger wasn't over; they could run into Gascar's army, for all she knew. Nonetheless, she began to relax, enough to chuckle when Ares woke up, glanced behind him and muttered, "Hey... there's a horse following us!" Her muscles were getting sore and numb from riding double and holding him up, and yet -- and yet, despite the discomfort, having him in her arms made her mind drift back to their embrace that afternoon.

Best not to go there. That was something to be stored in a box marked "Do Not Open," along with certain other moments in their history ... like the time she pretended to seduce him to get his help against Athena and found herself melting into his kisses for real.

Other memories came to her. Ares was sitting on a tree stump, alone and mortal, having just recovered from possession by the Furies, and she came to say good-bye. She couldn't resist touching his battered face -- yes, she had to fight him when he was mad, but did she have to hit so hard? -- as if she was doing him any good by poking at those cuts and scratches. She couldn't resist kissing him, not when he held her hands so gently and spoke to her with a quiet hopefulness so unlike the arrogance of the God of War -- and then, after that brief kiss, there was such warmth in his smile and in his eyes. His eyes... she could still see the look in his eyes when she came up to thank him after he had given up his immortality to save her and Gabrielle and Eve: utterly defenseless, fearful at first and then brimming with tenderness. And there was another memory that floated up from much, much earlier -- the first time Ares had lost his godhood, the moment when he regained it with her help and she watched the scruffy but likable mortal disappear into the cold cruel beauty of the god.

It was past midnight when they returned to the farm. There was light in the main room; Xena wondered if Gabrielle was still up, and realized that she felt uneasy at the thought of facing her. She shook Ares gently until he stirred and grumbled an unintelligible complaint.

"We're home," she said. "Hang on..."

None too gracefully, she clambered off Argo, trying to stretch as she maneuvered Ares to the ground. She led him to the house, hobbling a little from the stiffness in her legs, and reflected wryly that it probably looked like they had both enjoyed too much of a good time. Don't we make a pretty picture.

Rather to Xena's relief, Gabrielle was nowhere in sight. She walked Ares to the room he now occupied -- her grandparents' old bedroom -- and carefully let him down on the bed. By the time she started to undress him, he was out again; she found herself feeling grateful for that, and for the darkness.

She fluffed the pillow and lifted Ares up to it, smoothing his still-damp hair, and then pulled up the blanket. He stirred, lifting his head -- she thought she could see his eyelids flutter open -- and grasped her hand, murmuring, "Xena..." She held her breath, not sure if he was asleep or not. Ares' head dropped back on the pillow but he was still holding on to her hand as she stood over him. Xena put her other hand on top of his and ran her thumb over his knuckles, feeling the soft bumps of his veins.

She squatted down by the bed, and stayed there for a while. She wished she didn't have to go.

Finally, with a sigh, Xena extricated her hand from Ares' grasp. Picking up his leathers, she slung them over the windowsill to air them out. Then she walked out of the room, trying rather pointlessly to make no noise.

Exhausted as she was, Xena remembered with grim resignation that she still had to take care of the horses. Lamp in hand, she went outside, only to see that the horses were not by the porch. She found them in the barn, unsaddled and brushed down, feeding contentedly. So Gabrielle wasn't asleep after all.

As she stood in the middle of the barn, the air around her filled with the warm smell of hay and animals, everything that had happened that day caught up with her at last: the shock and quiet anguish in Gabrielle's face, those awful words Ares had thrown at her in the tavern. It was as if she'd taken a brutal beating that had lasted for hours, and had only now let herself feel the pain in every part of her body. She made her way to the house, like an animal crawling toward a hole where it could curl up and lick its wounds.

Back in her old childhood room, Xena took off her dress and her undergarment and climbed under the covers. She wrapped her arms around Gabrielle, who lay facing away from her, and drew her close, burying her face in the crook of Gabrielle's neck.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Is he okay?"

"Yeah," Xena said in a steady voice. "He'll just wake up with a really bad hangover." Maybe she could even get herself to believe it.

Gabrielle turned around, and they just held each other for a while, until she sought Xena's lips in a gentle kiss that gradually grew more insistent. Their breasts pressed together, Xena heard Gabrielle's breathing quicken and turn to small, almost whimpering moans as her hips shuddered. Xena wanted to feel it too -- but she was still too battered, too bruised inside. Easing Gabrielle on her back, she said, "Lie still..."

Her kisses trailed down Gabrielle's neck to her chest, lingering on each nipple, and then to her flat stomach as Gabrielle gasped and squirmed in anticipation. Brushing her lips over the soft, cool skin of Gabrielle's inner thighs, Xena heard her breathe, "I love you ..." and felt a sharp jab of guilt at the thought that not half an hour ago, she had wanted to stay with Ares.

She lifted her head, reaching out to clasp Gabrielle's hand.

"I love you too..."

Then she bent down and kissed her, making Gabrielle convulse and arch into her mouth. She licked and nibbled delicately, hoping half-consciously that the pleasure she could give her love would make up for the pain she'd caused her before. Gabrielle's grip tightened on her hand. Xena slowed down, barely moving her tongue while Gabrielle trembled and almost cried in exquisite frustration; then she sped up again, finding the rhythm that she knew pleased Gabrielle the most. Her own excitement stirred as Gabrielle's frantic little cries rose higher and her body shook uncontrollably.

When her spasms had passed, Xena laid her cheek on Gabrielle's stomach, still holding her hand, listening as her breaths slowly returned to normal. Then she pulled herself up and slipped an arm under Gabrielle's shoulders, cradling her, touching her face, stroking her hair.

Still panting a little, Gabrielle turned her head and murmured again, "I love you, Xena..." As their lips met once more, Gabrielle's hand touched Xena's breast, squeezing lightly, circling the nipple, and then moved lower -- and Xena knew, with quiet dismay, that she did not want this. Despite her body's response to bringing Gabrielle to a climax, she felt only a bone-deep weariness at the thought of being pleasured herself.

Her fingers closed around Gabrielle's wrist.

"You don't have to, Gabrielle ... I'm so tired ... let's just go to sleep..."

Gabrielle's body tensed at once, and in the moonlight that now streamed in through the window, Xena saw her stricken look before her face went blank.

"Oh ... okay," Gabrielle said in a small voice.

She slid out of Xena's arms and turned away, pulling up the covers. Xena reached out toward her, but her hand froze, lingering a finger's breadth from Gabrielle's tousled hair. She pulled her hand back and lay still, biting her lip.

What was she doing? Gabrielle had given her everything. She had been so lost when they first met, when she had just given up her old life as a warlord, and this simple village girl had believed in her when no one else did, when even she didn't believe in herself -- had offered her friendship, made her young when her soul had grown old far beyond her years. For some reason, she remembered Gabrielle's excitement at catching her first fish, and her silly chatter about how all living things, even humans, lived in the sea once upon a time.

And later, when their friendship became more than that... there was very little Xena hadn't done by then, with men or women, and yet Gabrielle had somehow let her feel new, as if both of them had just discovered the wonder of making love.

Gabrielle was the best thing that had ever happened to her, and all she had ever done was pull Gabrielle into violence and darkness, simply because of who she was, what kind of life she lived. This had been on her mind a lot lately; especially since their recent trip to North Africa, when Gabrielle killed a young man, a kid really, thinking he was about to attack them. With a bittersweet pang, she remembered how much Gabrielle had wanted to be a warrior just like her when they first met -- except that she hated the idea of taking human life. Gabrielle had become a fighter quickly enough, both of them desperately hoping that she could remain a fighter who didn't kill. Sooner or later it was bound to fail; looking back, Xena could see it clearly -- she of all people should have known better, with all the war and violence she had seen by then. Now Gabrielle was a skilled warrior, a full fighting partner .... and it was best not to think about what it was doing to her soul.

And now, to top it off, she was going to break Gabrielle's heart ... just as she had broken Ares' heart. Chewed it up and spat it out.

The thought that she was comparing Gabrielle to Ares gave her a jolt. Ares? The same Ares who had spent years trying to lure her back to war and conquest and evil, and might well have succeeded if Gabrielle hadn't been there for her ... who had done such cruel things to her and to Gabrielle? Maybe ... or maybe not. This Ares was a mortal man who, after all that, had given up the world for her ... at least he and Gabrielle had that in common. Given up? No, she had taken everything from them, robbed Ares of his immortality and Gabrielle of more things than she could allow herself to think about ... They both loved her so much -- and now she was going to destroy one of them... hell, probably both. And this is supposed to be the new me, the new Xena who's left her evil ways behind. Great going there, Xena.

She was going to destroy them both and she'd be left all alone ... except for Eve, only she had never been a real mother to Eve, either... She had wanted to serve the Greater Good, and she'd been no good to anyone she cared about -- her mother, her children, Gabrielle... Ares...

She crept closer to Gabrielle and put a hand on her back, and almost timidly snuggled up to her. Gabrielle remained still and rigid; after a while her shoulder twitched ever so slightly. Swallowing the hard lump in her throat, Xena moved away and closed her eyes, hoping that sleep would come. She wondered what they'd have to say to each other tomorrow ... she and Gabrielle ... she and Ares.

CHAPTER 2

When she woke up, Gabrielle was still sleeping. Curled up on her side, breathing smoothly, her fingers clutching at the bedcovers, she looked almost waif-like. Xena leaned over and softly, careful not to wake her, kissed her bare shoulder.

Soundlessly, her mouth formed the words, I would never leave you.

Feeling more groggy than rested after a few hours of fitful sleep, Xena climbed out of bed, slipped on her dress and went to the kitchen. She made a fire and hauled a bucket of water up on the stove to warm it up for her bath.

It occurred to her that perhaps she should make breakfast. Gabrielle was nearly always the one who cooked, and Xena had no illusions about her own skills -- but she could try, couldn't she? Something nice, something her grandmother used to make right here in this kitchen... Gabrielle had picked some apples the day before (so long ago!)... a baked apple casserole had to be easy enough.

It wasn't as if she really had a decision or a choice to make, Xena told herself as she chopped the apples. There was no denying her feelings for Ares. Her physical desire for him was something she had always regarded as part of her attraction to the dark power of War, yet it still left her feverish and dizzy now when he was just a man. She cared for him; the affectionate, protective concern that she had felt even the first time she'd met Ares as a mortal was now mixed with gratitude for his sacrifice. He got to her all right. But Gabrielle -- living without Gabrielle was unthinkable, like a world in which the sun didn't come up in the morning.

Putting the knife down, Xena bit her lip, her eyes clouding a little. She wanted to run to the bedroom and take Gabrielle in her arms, hold her, kiss her awake, tell her everything would be okay. She wasn't sure what held her back: the thought that she should let Gabrielle sleep, or the fear that Gabrielle would recoil from her touch.

When she was pouring milk into a bowl, a memory of brushing her fingers across Ares' upper lip invaded her mind, making her pause and close her eyes. Enough of that. She whipped up a mix of milk, egg and honey, poured it over the chopped apples and stuck the pan in the oven. She was not going to burn this.

The water was good enough for the bath. Xena carried the bucket to the small room behind the kitchen and splashed the water into the wooden tub, battered but scrubbed reasonably clean by Gabrielle the day they'd arrived on the farm.

She lay back in the lukewarm water, staring at the moldy wall. She hadn't done Ares any wrong, not really. Giving up his immortality had been his own choice. Besides, as much as he grumbled about the mortal state, the humanity he had gained might well be worth the godhood he'd lost. He seemed -- happier, somehow. At least until... Well, maybe it was for the best that he knew. Maybe he'd learn to accept it, once he got over the shock, and they could still be friends. Ares would be all right; he always was, in the end. In any case, her first responsibility was to Gabrielle. She had to remember that.

As Xena toweled off, it occurred to her that Ares would be in pretty bad shape when he woke up. She hauled in more water to warm up -- a bath would help -- and set about making a willow-bark brew that was good for headaches.

She checked periodically on the casserole. When she got it out of the oven, it looked hard and dry around the edges and soggy and lumpy in the middle. A little hesitantly, Xena scooped up a spoonful. It was too sweet, and a gritty bit of eggshell was caught under her teeth as she chewed. She stared at the result of her effort and wondered if she should throw it away. It felt like such a stupid gesture.

While Xena was still wondering what to do, she heard shuffling footsteps, and Gabrielle came into the kitchen.

"Good morning," she said in that distant, neutral tone Xena dreaded to hear. Her eyes fell on the frying pan. "What's that?"

"I -- I made breakfast." Xena was staring at her feet.

Gabrielle expressed no surprise, made no joke, didn't say anything at all. Without sitting down, she ate a helping of casserole and drank some cider. Then she said, in the same toneless voice, "I'll be out in the barn doing some work."

When Gabrielle was at the door, Xena worked up the courage to look up and say, "Gabrielle..."

She didn't turn back. "What?"

Xena sighed. "I'll see you."

She busied herself around the kitchen. Ares made his appearance about half an hour later, wearing those dark blue linen pants he'd had on the night the three of them shared a bed. His face haggard, he somehow seemed less muscular, more gaunt than the day before.

"Hey," Xena said softly. He avoided her eyes.

"I've warmed some water for you if you want to take a bath. The soap's on that stool by the tub."

He nodded.

"You can drink that if you have a headache ... just eat something first." Xena gestured toward the cup with the willow-bark mixture, then toward the table where she'd laid out a couple of apples and some bread and cheese, along with the remnants of the ill-fated casserole.

"Yeah," he muttered.

"I'll be outside."

Xena sat on the porch and cleaned her boots and skirt, scrubbing until the leather was shiny. The sky above was a deep, cloudless blue; the day was getting hot. She could hear Ares moving around in the house and the water splashing. Gabrielle came out of the barn and walked over to the chicken pen, glancing only once in Xena's direction; she fed the chickens and went back to the barn, her dress fluttering in the breeze.

The door creaked open behind her, and Ares' voice said, "Xena?"

She turned around. He was in his leathers now, though without his swordbelt; his hair neatly combed, he looked his old self, except that something was gone from his face. It was as if he would never smile again.

"Come in here a minute," he said. "I need to talk to you."

Xena rose and followed him into the house. As they stood facing each other, she braced herself for whatever was coming next. The anticipation was a cold, heavy lump in her chest.

"I'm leaving," Ares said.

"What?" she whispered.

"I can't stay here anymore."

"It's still dangerous -- Gascar's men may still be out there -- "

"I'll be fine."

"Ares -- " Her apprehension surged to stark terror. "You haven't decided to -- to take them on and go out in a blaze of glory, have you?"

"A blaze of glory..." Seeing him smile was even worse. "You ought to be the writer." Meeting her worried look, Ares shook his head. "I haven't, Xena. Not my style."

"You don't have to go," she said. "Gabrielle and I could leave, you can stay here as long as you -- "

"No," he said quietly. "I should -- get out of your life." He paused, as if waiting for a reply, and then added, "Make a clean break."

It didn't come as a complete shock. She stared at him, feeling numb.

"I'm going to leave Greece," he said.

"Leave Greece..."

"Yeah." He swallowed a little. "I think I'll head East."

"East..." Xena felt like the nymph in the legend, condemned by the gods to speak nothing except for repeating another's last words.

"There's a place beyond Ch'in -- Jappa -- "

"The Land of the Rising Sun..." Xena nodded. For some reason it gave her goose-bumps; she had heard stories of Jappa during the time she'd spent in Ch'in, but somehow it never seemed like a real place, more like a ghost island. "They say it's a land of fierce warriors."

"Sounds like my kind of place." Ares paused. "Maybe it is my chance to start a new life. Preferably not in a wine jug." He smiled again, making her wish he wouldn't.

She had no right to try to stop him.

"Yeah, maybe it's best for you," she said. "No one will be after you over there -- they probably haven't even heard of Ares, God of War."

"Right. Who knew that could be a good thing."

"Maybe you'll find another girl." Gods ... what an awful thing to say -- and she'd meant it as light banter.

"Yeah." He looked at her, the corner of his mouth twitching up. "Or another dog."

Damn. Why did it have to feel like a piece of her heart was being ripped out?

"So -- when are you leaving?"

Ares shrugged. "The sooner the better."

She squelched the pang. "At least stay a couple more nights. Until we know Gascar's army has left the valley."

He gave her a curious look, a faint warmth coming back into his eyes.

"All right," he said.

In the silence that fell between them, Xena could hear water dripping somewhere in the house.

"Ares ..." She was close enough to reach out and take his hand, but it was probably better not to. "I hope you have a good life."

"You too," he said.

The silence was much longer this time. Finally, she nodded again, in response either to his last comment or to some unspoken words of his -- or of her own -- then turned and took a step toward the door.

"Xena..."

She turned -- a little too eagerly, perhaps.

"Tell me," he said, with an obvious effort. "You and Gabrielle -- how did you... I mean, how did it -- "

She couldn't; it would only hurt him more.

"It just happened one day -- one night -- it wasn't any kind of special occasion..."

"Don't lie to me." The flash of anger in his voice made him sound more like Ares again; it was easier to deal with. "Tell me."

Xena took a deep breath.

Hope was reborn -- Dahak's daughter had returned to usher in her demon father's reign ‑- and Ares had switched sides and joined Hope and Dahak, making a deal with the Fates to cut Xena's life thread if she killed Hope. That night, Ares came to see her and invited her to join Dahak too, and her revulsion at his treachery gave way to bitter sadness when she realized that it wasn't the quest for ultimate power that drove the God of War, but abject fear for his own life. He was still trying to mask it with his usual bravado, telling her that even if she managed to kill Hope, she would die anyway. He stared at her and added, "So for me, it’s" -- he paused, an oddly human, almost vulnerable look his eyes -- "win-win."

Then he was gone, and it was just her and Gabrielle at the campsite, well aware that it was probably their last night together, perhaps the last night of the world as they knew it. It didn't occur to her at the time that Gabrielle, too, was preparing to die -- to sacrifice herself to save Xena and destroy Hope; stupidly, she didn't even realize that Ares was goading Gabrielle to do just that. They sat by the campfire, saying little, glancing almost furtively at each other in the blue moonlight. Xena felt the tears rising as she thought of all the goodness and love the girl from Potadeia had brought into her life, and of all the ways in which they had hurt each other. The prospect of dying didn't frighten her -- she had long learned to accept it as an occupational hazard. She was just sorry there wouldn't be time to make it up to Gabrielle.

At last Xena touched Gabrielle's hand and muttered, "Let's get some rest." They hugged fiercely and exchanged a tender kiss on the cheek, and as they pulled apart, still holding hands, Xena was left with the odd feeling that there had to be something more. They got into their bedrolls, but neither of them could sleep. After a while, Gabrielle crawled over to Xena's side and snuggled up to her, and they lay silently in each other's arms, stroking each other's hair. Then Gabrielle kissed her again, and her soft, warm lips traveled over Xena's cheek and a little lower, finally finding Xena's lips.

A moment later Gabrielle drew away, perhaps startled by her own audacity, and it was Xena who gently pulled Gabrielle's head toward her once more, wondering if she herself had wanted to do this for a long time. But they were all out of time now. They kissed again, slowly at first, then with desperate urgency, and everything they could share was in that kiss -- all the tenderness, all the passion, all the things that they no longer had a lifetime to give. It felt so right that they should kiss like this, that they should let their hands and lips roam over each other's bodies, that they should give each other pleasure -- that they should experience each other completely, be together in every way they could, before they lost each other forever.

They needed no words; it just happened. Still, there was an instant when Xena wavered: Gabrielle was so innocent, so inexperienced... She raised herself on an elbow, gazing down on Gabrielle's face -- her eyes bright and wide, her lips parted and swollen a little -- and said, "You don't have to do anything you don't want to." Gabrielle blinked and her lips twitched, as if she was going to cry. She reached up to stroke Xena's face, then took Xena's hand and guided it back to her bare breast and whispered, "Xena ... I want to do everything with you."

She mustered the courage to look straight at Ares.

"It was when Hope returned," she said. "After you came to -- say good-bye."

He flinched and lowered his eyes.

"Ares..." This time, she did reach out and put her hand on his arm. "It's all in the past."

When he looked up, his face was calm but pale, a fine mist of sweat on his forehead. A sudden thought burst into her mind: What if Ares hadn't betrayed her then ... ?

It frightened her, to be thinking that. She wouldn't have traded her life with Gabrielle for anything. She just couldn't help wondering if something, at some point, could have happened differently so that she wouldn't have to lose Ares now.

* ~ * ~ *

Everything was okay, Gabrielle thought as she poured oil over the neatly sliced vegetables and started cutting up the chicken.

Earlier, Xena had come to tell her that Ares was leaving the farm, in a tone as ordinary as if she were delivering any other bit of news. Then she had paused, her eyelashes quivering very slightly, and added that he was going off to some gods-forsaken island on the edge of the world.

Gabrielle knew Xena well enough to see that she was upset; then again, she knew enough not to overreact to this. So Xena had a soft spot for Ares. Xena had always had a weakness for bad boys; Gabrielle didn't have to like it but she accepted it, just as she accepted the fact that Xena took pleasure in fighting … or that Xena could feel a purely physical desire for someone she didn't love. It wasn't all that long ago (well, at least it didn't seem like long ago) that she'd nearly driven herself crazy over Xena's crush on Antony ... and in the end, it hadn't meant a thing. Sure, it was different with Ares -- he had been in Xena's life for so long -- but not so different that he ever had a chance to get between them.

The quick rush of relief, and perhaps even joy, that Gabrielle had felt at the news of Ares' departure had quickly given way to a twinge of remorse. Taking Xena's hands in hers, she had said, "I know you're worried about him... he'll be all right" -- desperately hoping that she meant it, and that it was true -- and Xena had squeezed her hands and nodded with a quiet "Thanks."

After that, the tension between them had dissolved, at least enough for a few good‑natured gibes, welcome and familiar. "Maybe when we retire from the warrior business, we can open a tavern and you can be the cook," Gabrielle had said when they were done putting away the dishes, and Xena had smiled back, "Sure, if we want to run a really quiet place." But she could still see a trace of sadness in Xena's eyes.

They had spent much of the afternoon attending to practical matters, like doing something about all those farm animals they'd taken the trouble to buy. The prospect of stewing in the sun on the market square for hours, trying to sell a cow, a calf and a pig, had very limited appeal. Fortunately, just as Gabrielle and Xena had finished herding the animals into the cart, rescue came in the unlikely form of their chatty neighbor Greba, who offered to take "the poor dears" off their hands at what was surely a reasonable price for a lonely young widow. Judging by her visible disappointment at the news that their "master" (Gabrielle couldn't help rolling her eyes) wasn't staying on the farm, the young widow wouldn't have minded taking Ares off their hands, either.

Ares had mostly kept out of sight. Under other circumstances, Gabrielle would have been sorry to see him go. For all his sniping at her, the former War God had turned out to be surprisingly likable as a mortal. Hard to believe, but she would miss him. Besides, she felt for him; how could she not? He had literally had the world at his feet, and powers that the human mind could only begin to grasp, and he had lost it all to save Xena, and Eve -- and her. And now he was left with nothing ... and she had lost so much, yet she still had everything.

She wished it didn't have to be like this. But it had to, of course. If she and Xena weren't together, Ares still wouldn't be right for Xena: their connection had always been a part of her dark side, and even as a mortal, he'd probably end up bringing out the worst in her. Maybe it was all for the best. Ares would really find a new life instead of pining for Xena -- and Xena wouldn't be tempted to make a mistake she'd always regret.

Tomorrow, she and Xena would go do some scouting, make sure that Gascar's men were heading out of the valley, following the false lead Ares had given them in his peasant disguise. If the way was clear, they could leave, Ares going one way, she and Xena another. Meanwhile, they could at least try to have a nice dinner together. Gabrielle was almost done cutting the chicken for the stew; Xena, judging by the sharp thuds coming from outside, was chopping the firewood. All these chores had a melancholy feel now, rather like preparing for the funeral of someone not yet dead. But that was much too morbid. Life would go on.

Gabrielle put the chicken pieces in the pot with the vegetables, added vinegar and some crushed bay leaves, and headed out to get wood for the stove. Stepping out on the porch, she paused to take in the beauty of the evening -- the trees shimmering in the mild breeze, the fields bathed in the gentle gold of the late sun. With some surprise, she saw that it was not Xena but Ares chopping the wood; the desire to get his mind off his woes had apparently gotten the best of his aversion to the tools of common labor.

Then, Gabrielle turned and saw Xena.

She stood leaning against a pole, watching Ares. Her eyes glittered with tears yet she was smiling, like sunshine peeking through a light rain, a smile all tenderness and regret and wistful longing. She was so beautiful at that moment -- how could any mortal be so beautiful? -- and yet Gabrielle suddenly knew what it must have felt like to look at the Gorgon and turn instantly to stone.

Finally noticing Gabrielle, Xena blinked, as if snapping out of a trance. She seemed frightened and, somehow, helpless.

When Gabrielle could speak again, her voice was quiet and hollow.

"You are in love with him."

* ~ * ~ *

Gabrielle walked slowly into the house. Her legs felt as if they were stuffed with rags. Bumping into a chair and a couple of door jambs along the way, she wandered to the bedroom and slumped down on the edge of the bed. She didn't move when Xena sat down behind her and laid a hand on her back.

"Gabrielle..." There was a plea in Xena's voice. "Oh, Gabrielle..."

"You love him," she said, her head turned away.

"I love you. I'll always love you. You're -- "

She turned around abruptly, dry-eyed, to face Xena.

"Then tell me you're not in love with Ares."

"I -- I'm -- " Xena gave her a pained, apologetic look which was more than enough of an answer, and lowered her eyes.

"It doesn't mean that I love you any less," she said. "You know what you mean to me. It doesn't change how I feel about you..."

"Well, it changes a lot for me."

"Gabrielle... he's going away. I'll never see him again."

"Yes, you will -- every time you close your eyes." Gabrielle paused. "Tell me you're not going to think about him every day."

Xena was silent for a while. Then she said very quietly, "What do you want me to do?"

Gabrielle got up and paced around the room.

She could leave. Take her place with the Amazons, or become a champion of the Elijans -- or hang up her sais and become a full-time bard ... maybe even go north and find Beowulf... and live without half of her soul. Out of the question. It wasn't as if Xena didn't love her anymore. After all, Xena was prepared to let Ares go away, to stay with her forever.

They could just go on; their bond had survived worse things. They would go on, and she would never know for sure that at any particular moment, Xena wasn't thinking of Ares, wondering what he was doing, whether he was all right, whether he was with another woman.

She had a thought ... a crazy, impossible thought. She was hanging over an abyss, holding on to its edge with weakening fingers, and a voice in her head was telling her to let go.

She walked back to Xena and stood over her, her hands resting on Xena's shoulders. Xena looked up at her -- anxiously, expectantly. After a few moments, Gabrielle took Xena's face in her hands, and lingered a little before leaning down to kiss her. She pulled away and looked at Xena again, and ran her thumb over the glittering trace of a tear on Xena's cheekbone.

Let go.

The words died in her throat when she tried to speak, but she found her voice on the second try.

"Do what you want to do."

Xena flinched back, her eyes wide. Had this been about anything else, Gabrielle would have been amused: The little girl from Potadeia had managed to shock the Warrior Princess.

"What do you mean?"

She knew she was blushing. "Go to him."

"Oh gods, Gabrielle, I can't..." Xena seized her hand. "I couldn't...."

Gabrielle sighed and touched Xena's face again. "Xena, if you let him leave now, you'll always wonder about what might have been, and then -- "

Xena shook her head, squeezing her hand harder. "No. Stop it."

" -- and then I'll never have all of you."

Xena drew Gabrielle down into her lap, holding her in a tight hug, cheek to cheek, and Gabrielle felt the heat of her whisper. "You don't know what you're saying -- this is crazy..."

The tears came at last, streaming down Gabrielle's face.

"Xena, let's not talk about it anymore, okay? Do what you think is right for you. I don't want to know about it ... I just wanted to tell you that I -- that you -- "

"That I have your blessing?" Xena said bitterly.

"That -- that you won't be betraying me."

Gabrielle drew back, and Xena's face crumbled at the sight of her tears.

"Gabrielle..."

"I'll be okay..."

She rested her head on Xena's shoulder, and they sat like that for a while, until Gabrielle looked up and said a little hoarsely, "I'm not going to lose you without a fight."

"You're not going to lose me. You could never lose me." Xena fell silent, a wistful look coming into her eyes. "Gabrielle -- remember the first time we were together..."

"Yes?" Maybe she was a fool, but it felt good, somehow, to know that Xena had been thinking about it.

"Remember what I said to you the next morning?"

Gabrielle nodded, her eyes filling with tears again.

"You said I gave your life meaning and joy..."

"And that you were the best thing that ever happened to me -- that you'd be a part of me forever. I meant it then, Gabrielle. I still do."

They hugged again. Then, Xena lifted a hand and tilted Gabrielle's head, and her voice was suddenly husky as she said, "Come here..." Gabrielle closed her eyes and waited, and waited, and finally felt Xena's mouth on hers and the slow, tantalizing caress of her tongue.

Together, they leaned back until they were lying down, still locked in that kiss. When gentle hands tugged at her skirt, Gabrielle wondered for an instant if Xena was only doing this for her, to reassure her that she was still wanted, still loved. Then she heard the low sound in Xena's throat, and it made her forget all doubt, forget everything.

* ~ * ~ *

Ares threw the axe aside and sat down on the log, panting. It was hard work, and he had probably chopped a lot more wood than was needed; but at least it was a distraction ... not to mention a chance to hit something.

Oh, he'd had it all worked out back then, during the Hope and Dahak mess. He had been utterly terrified of Dahak, there was no point in denying it. When that pillar of fire shot up behind him on the beach, he knew that he was dealing with something unknowable and unspeakable, a power with no corporeal form, no language, no qualities at all except pure malevolence. He was the God of War; he knew when the game was up, and his job was to survive. So he was going to be smart. Pretend to play along with the Dark One. Stop Xena from killing Hope without having to kill Xena. Make sure the pesky sidekick was properly motivated to do the deed. Win-win. He winced at the words.

Well, it had worked out, all right. She had ended up with Xena, and he had ended up doing stud service for Hope, a mating that had made him understand the mortal emotion of shame. Maybe they both got what they deserved. Now, he could spend the remainder of his life wondering what could have been if he had not betrayed Xena then, if he'd stayed at her side. How dumb was that -- to regret not risking his neck for something he hadn't even known he wanted, back then.

Enough with the self-pity. He got up, picked up a few logs and walked to the house. He was about to go up on the porch when a noise coming from one of the windows made him stop in his tracks.

It was Xena ... crying?

His heart lurched wildly. Maybe she did love him after all, enough to cry over losing him. Maybe there was still a chance. If the accursed blonde wasn't around, he could go to Xena now and --

As he put down the logs and stood up, Ares realized that the sound he had heard wasn't crying at all, and that the blonde was definitely around.

Tartarus -- to think that Xena would be carrying on with someone who emitted such pathetic squeaks.

He stood open-jawed, frozen to the spot. There was a time when the thought of Xena and her little friend going at it like cats in heat might have been titillating. Now, it sickened him so much that he fought a powerful impulse to hurl a log through the window, just to make those sounds stop.

Couldn't even wait until he left.

He could leave right now, Gascar or no Gascar. But all his stuff was in the damn house -- the sword, the vest, the gauntlets -- and there was no way he was going in there now.

Finally regaining control of his feet, he walked to the barn and paced around for a while, occasionally kicking at a pole. It didn't help much.

He sat down in the warm hay, leaning back against the wall.

Maybe they'd fall asleep when they were done. Maybe then, he could go inside the house and get his sword.

And kill them.

No, dammit, he could never kill her. Not again. He had already looked at her dead face twice; once thinking that she had died because he had been too selfish to save her, once thinking that he had killed her in a fit of madness. More than enough.

But the other one...

Once, he wasn't sure how many human lifetimes ago, he had bedded the wife of one of his generals in the form of her actual mortal paramour, and the general had caught them after the act, fast asleep -- or so it looked. The affronted husband had held his sword over Ares, taking very precise aim, apparently determined, like a true gentleman, to cut off his head without leaving even a scratch on the lady. It had been such a hoot when the sword went harmlessly through his neck and he rose from the bed in all his fully clothed godly splendor, causing the poor sap to collapse in a dead faint and the woman to wake up screaming ... though it didn't seem nearly as amusing now.

He could do that. Why not? He had bought Blondie's worthless little life with most of his own; he'd only be taking back what she owed him. He could picture it now: walking stealthily into the room and up to the bed, lifting his sword and aiming carefully, making sure Xena wasn't hurt --

Except that he'd never do it, not only because Xena would most certainly kill him afterwards but because he knew it would kill her, too ... and maybe not just because of that, either. A vivid memory forced itself into his mind: the girl standing on the porch of the farmhouse when they had just gotten there, beckoning to him and saying, "Come on!" with that silly wrinkle-nosed grin of hers. As violently as he loathed her now, the thought of her severed head lying in a pool of blood bothered him, somehow.

He thumped the back of his head against the wall a few times.

Stupid -- stupid -- stupid.

Ares wasn't sure how long he sat there, wondering how he'd managed to get himself into such a rotten mess. It was almost dark when he heard a faint rustle and opened his eyes.

It was her.

"Dinner's ready."

"I'm not hungry," he snapped, realizing just then that he was.

Xena lingered for a moment and left without another word. Obviously just as happy to let him starve.

Then she came back, carrying a bowl of delicious-smelling stew, a loaf of bread, and a mug of steaming apple cider. The smell of the food made his mouth water and his stomach clench. She squatted next to him, put it all down and said softly, "Here you go."

In the near-dark, he thought Xena gave him an odd look, as if she were about to say something else, or to touch him. He hoped she wouldn't. At last she got up and walked away. She stopped in the wide doorway of the barn to look back, her silhouette black against the darkening blue-gray sky. Then she was gone.

Ares picked up the bowl and dipped the spoon in the stew.

Damn. Damn it all to Tartarus. It would be so much easier if he could hate her. But no, he had to melt every time she did some little thing which made him believe that she cared. Maybe Athena had been right all along -- he was really whipped.

* ~ * ~ *

When they were done cleaning up after dinner, Gabrielle went back into their room and came out in her Amazon garb, armed with her sais.

"I'm going out," she said. Her tone was casual, deliberately so.

Xena turned abruptly.

"Out?"

"Yeah. To scout the area, see if Gascar's army is gone."

There was still a chance to pull back, for both of them.

"Want me to go with you?"

"No." Gabrielle paused and smiled a little. "I'll be fine."

Xena followed Gabrielle out on the porch. Clio, who had been grazing untethered along with Argo, cantered up in response to Gabrielle's whistle. The women hugged and kissed briefly, the way they would on any night when one of them was going out alone on some errand.

"Be safe," Xena said.

Gabrielle nodded, giving her hand a light squeeze, and got in the saddle. As she rode away, a charcoal-gray cloud swallowed up the moon, and the horse and the rider melted quickly into the darkness.

Xena shook herself and went back into the house.

She told herself that just because Gabrielle had given her the go-ahead didn't mean she was going to do anything.

She wondered if Ares was going to stay in the barn all night.

Then she heard his footsteps on the porch and he came in. Xena noticed with relief that some life seemed to have come back into his face, though it was hard to tell in the low light of a single oil lamp. Their eyes met briefly; he was the first to turn away. She wanted to ask if he needed anything, but that didn't feel right. He muttered, "Good night" and went to his room.

Xena sat down and stared into the fireplace.

She could go out and take Argo to the barn ... then come back to the house and go to bed, alone.

And tomorrow or the next day, Ares would be gone. Whether she had loved him or hated him, he had been in her life since she was scarcely out of adolescence, longer than anyone now alive ... unless, perhaps, her elder brother was still alive somewhere. And just like that, he wouldn't be there anymore.

Gabrielle's voice echoed in her head: You are in love with him. She hadn't, until then, given words to it. Perhaps she had loved him for a long time, when he was still a god, and when she knew -- or thought she knew -- that he couldn't love anyone.

How could she, after everything he had done? Well, she wasn't exactly in a position to wonder if someone who had done terrible things deserved to be loved... Maybe what did it was knowing, ever since Ares' first brief brush with mortality, that buried somewhere under the full weight of the Godhood of War was a human core, vulnerable, capable of feeling -- much as she had once crushed her own human yearnings under the hard armor of the Destroyer of Nations. Not only that -- but knowing that it was she who brought out this human part of the god. Maybe that was why, even in the middle of some vicious, twisted scheme of his to win her back into his service, she had always felt some strange link between them, some special understanding. And then, his sacrifice -- how strong his love had to be, to break through so much power-lust and selfishness and cruelty...

It wouldn't be cheating, really, not if Gabrielle knew and agreed to it. Not cheating, no ... just inflicting a wound that nothing would ever heal. But maybe Gabrielle was right; maybe it would be even worse to share her life and her bed with Gabrielle while missing Ares, thinking about what it would be like to kiss those lips, to look into those deep brown eyes while he sighed in pleasure, his hard body naked under hers --

She tossed her head. Maybe there wasn't any point in trying to snap out of it.

The thought of Gabrielle tugged at her painfully. Gabrielle was out there somewhere, riding all by herself ... probably imagining her in Ares' arms. Even if she didn't go to Ares, Gabrielle would spend the night thinking that she had.

Maybe she could just go and talk to him, and then, if something happened, it would just -- happen.

The fire was dying, a few puny flames still clinging to life among the bright-red embers and the pale ashes. Xena sighed and got up.

Almost at the door of Ares' bedroom, she stopped and stood still for a few moments before walking on to the room she shared with Gabrielle. Groping in the dark, she lit the lamp on the small table by the bed, then reached into the bag where she kept her medicines and fished out a small, dark green velvet pouch. She fumbled at the strings and stared at the herbs inside. There was plenty.

Years ago, Lao Ma had taught Xena about these herbs, which a woman could take after being with a man to keep from having a child. She still carried them for their other medicinal properties, and also to help other women in various emergencies.

There was no use pretending now. She was about to make love to Ares -- not in a moment of weakness, not because she got carried away, but because she wanted to.

Xena took off her dress and her undergarment and slipped into the shift she sometimes wore to bed. Then she picked up the lamp and went to Ares.

* ~ * ~ *

He could still hear her moving around the house.

Ares pulled the thin blanket over his head, as if it could shut out her steps and the groaning floorboards. If she'd only stop, maybe he could get some sleep.

He wondered where the other one had gone off to at such an hour, all by herself; he had seen her ride away when he stepped out of the barn. Probably scouting the area to make sure Gascar's army was gone. Couldn't wait to get him out of the way. Of course.

Finally, it was quiet. Ares turned on his back and closed his eyes, trying to keep his mind blank.

Dammit -- there was her door, opening and shutting again. And steps, getting closer ... stopping ...

The door -- his door -- creaked open. Ares' heart did another somersault.

Cautiously, he lifted an eyelid and saw a dim light. He turned his head a little, not sure he wanted her to see that he was awake.

Xena, clad only in that pale purple little number she'd worn when the three of them shared a bed on that first rainy night, carefully put down an oil lamp on a shelf across from the bed. It cast a watery circle of golden light, making stark black shadows glide on the walls of the small room.

What in Tartarus was she doing?

She turned to him. Ares quickly closed his eyes but it was too late.

"Hey," she said.

Pretending to be asleep would just feel dumb. He opened his eyes.

"What do you want?"

She came up and sat down on the edge of the bed, smiling a little. She looked nervous.

"I'm -- " she licked her lips. "I wanted to see you."

Then he got it, and a spasm of rage rose to his throat. Abruptly, he raised himself up on his elbow.

"What for?" His own voice sounded strange, like a croak. "My going-away present?"

Xena winced a little and looked at him sideways.

"Ares -- "

"Get out." He had regained control of his voice. "Get out."

"What?" she whispered. Her eyes were wide and hurt --. just like she looked in Amphipolis when she played her damned cock-teasing game with him, and when he had the good sense to reject her at first, knowing she was up to something. The hurt was real, no doubt. Such a blow to her ego.

"I don't want your pity," he spat out.

"It isn't like that."

"Then what's it like? Didn't get enough this afternoon?" He saw her flinch and added with a crooked sneer, "I bet they heard you all the way to Rome."

She lowered her head.

"Ares... don't."

"Don't what? Don't stop being a doormat?"

Xena looked up, and their eyes met.

"I'm here because I -- " She paused. "I want to be with you."

He was silent for a few moments, catching his breath. It was awfully difficult to hold on to his anger, especially when she was sitting so close, her eyes tender, her hair falling on her naked shoulders, her nipples erect under the flimsy fabric ... offering herself to him.

He swallowed.

"What about -- "

"It's okay," she said quickly. "Everything's okay."

Suddenly, he knew why the blonde had left, and in a flash his anger was back.

"So you've got it all worked out between you two." He shook his head disbelievingly. "I don't get any say in the matter, do I?"

"Ares -- "

"Well, why should I. You think that if you make a move on me, I won't be able to resist."

Xena looked at him, obviously thinking something over, and then got up.

That was it. He'd done it. She had come to him -- he had one last chance, and he had blown it, thanks to his stupid, stupid pride.

"Ares. It is your choice. You can -- make the moves. I won't ... I won't do anything."

She walked over to the window, which had been left ajar, and stood there just a few paces away looking out into the night, her back to him, the lamplight gleaming softly in her hair.

Ares leaned back on the pillow and shut his eyes. But she was still there, and he could see her just as well with his eyes closed.

He could just lie there until she left. It wouldn't be easy, but he could manage. She wouldn't wait forever. And that would be the end.

If he made love to her, it could -- dammit, probably would -- end up being just this once. He would still go away, carrying this night with him to the edge of the earth. It was bad enough to long for her when the only actual memories he had to torment him were of a few kisses and some interrupted foreplay. To be away from her and have the memory of her naked body against his, of being inside her, of her crying out her pleasure in his arms...

And if he let her walk away, yet again? Then he'd be away from her knowing that he could have had those memories, and perhaps more -- and didn't take his chance.

Some choice. Who was he kidding?

Ares threw the blanket aside and got up. He was glad he'd worn those ridiculous linen pants to bed; somehow, it made him feel ... well, a little less naked.

He came up behind her and put his hands on her arms. She shivered a little. He leaned down, closing his eyes for an instant, and pressed his lips to her shoulder. His mouth trailed upward, and Xena sighed and let her head drop back, leaning into him, as he swept her hair aside and kissed under her ear. Raising his hand, Ares ran his fingertips across her cheek and the corner of her mouth and her chin, down her neck and chest, and further down over her shift to trace the outline of a breast -- feeling her tremble, listening to her husky shallow breaths.

His other hand crept under her shift and moved up her side, barely touching the skin. He wanted to squeeze her breast but resisted the impulse, instead letting his fingers make small circles around her nipple. This time she moaned aloud. He shuddered and kissed her neck again. His hand slid very slowly down to her stomach, and lower, brushing against the thick curls.

"Ares..."

Gods -- to hear her say his name like that...

He had meant to play with her a bit, to drive her crazy -- to really be in charge for a while. At that moment, he knew it was a lost cause. For one thing, he was driving himself just as crazy. His control over his body wasn't what it used to be; his weak mortal flesh was already demanding relief, and if he drew this out much longer it would be over, in the most mortifying way possible. But even aside from that, he just couldn't be playful right now. He needed her too much, needed to lie with her, hold her and be held, feel the warmth of her lips...

When Ares turned her around, Xena reached toward him, as if she'd been waiting for this, and brought her mouth to his with a hunger that couldn't be denied anymore. She broke away to let him take off her shift and then she kissed him again, her hands tugging at his pants, pushing them down --

The pure shock of her touch made him cry out. He dropped his head on her shoulder, gasping as she caressed him; he had to stop her but it felt as if he'd die if she stopped. He managed to get out a choked "Xena -- Xena, don't -- " and she moved her hand away, making him groan in frustration. She stepped back. A mild golden haze seemed to hang around her body, whether it was the lamp behind her or his eyes playing tricks on him.

Maybe this wasn't really happening -- any moment now, he would wake up, or something would interrupt them, or she'd turn and leave. But no, there she was, taking his hands, pulling him back toward the bed, pulling him into another fevered kiss as they sank down on the bed, her body under him a perfect harmony of a warrior's supple strength and a woman's softness. He dipped down to press his mouth to her breast; he wanted to caress all of her with his hands and his mouth, but he couldn't wait anymore.

They kissed very gently, just the tips of their tongues touching, lips parted slightly, catching each other's breaths as she opened up to him.

Ares had tried to prepare himself, not to let it overwhelm him. But there was no preparing for this -- not only for the sensation of melting into her liquid heat but for what it did to him to hear her moan, to feel her meet his thrusts, to watch her eyes blur in tender bliss. He whispered her name and covered her face with kisses. If this could last all night, it would still end too soon.

Except that it wasn't going to last all night; it wasn't going to be like one of his fantasies in which Xena kept coming and coming and coming as he made love to her. His mortal body was already letting him down, pleasure building inside him like a fragile bubble that could burst at any moment.

"Xena..." he whispered hoarsely. "I -- I can't -- "

"Mmm" -- she reached up to kiss his lower lip -- "what?"

"Oh gods -- I can't hold on -- "

"It's okay." She touched his face, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"No." Ares grit his teeth, trying to keep some control. "You haven't -- " her inner muscles clenched around him and he groaned, closing his eyes -- "you haven't -- Xena -- I wanna make it good for you -- "

"Oh it's good," she breathed into his ear, running her hand down his back, "it's -- better than good." He made one more effort to slow down but his body would have none of it. Her hand moved lower to stroke him, and she caught his cry in her mouth as a new wave of sensation tipped him over. The bubble shattered, its sweet poison spilling into his blood, and this time he truly felt as if he were dying, dissolving into nothingness, into her.

Ares lay still for a while, his face buried in Xena's hair, a wonderful, warm heaviness seeping into every fiber of his body. Then he forced himself to stir -- he couldn't fall asleep -- and rolled off her, kissing her lightly. His fingers grazed her thigh; Xena gave a slight shudder and drew in her breath in anticipation. Bending down, he brushed his mouth against the hard peak of her nipple, then teased it with his tongue, and heard her ragged sigh. She ran her fingers through his hair and moved her legs, almost impatiently, and said, "Ares..."

Her voice was thick and breathless, quivering just a little, just enough to drive him wild. He slid his hand up, feeling the silky warmth of her inner thigh, and higher still, watching her neck arch, watching little spasms run across her face. It was incredible to see her like this, so lost to the world, lost in the pleasure he was giving her -- so completely vulnerable that Ares felt strangely protective toward the Warrior Princess, in a way he had never felt even as a god.

He cradled her in his arms when it was over, almost as if he were comforting her, her head resting on his chest.

If, by some unlikely miracle, he ended up in the Elysian Fields after he died, this would be the one moment he's choose to relive for eternity.

Maybe that meant he was happy.

CHAPTER 3

One look was enough to determine that Gascar's camp had been deserted for hours, probably since the day before. They might have left right after the search party had returned from the farm, Gabrielle thought as she looked around in the moonlight. The pungent smell of horses, mixed with the stale odor of bad cooking, was already wearing off.

The thing to do now was look at the tracks and see in which direction Gascar and his band had gone. She lit a lantern, jumped down from her horse and walked across the site, idly kicking at the trash that got underfoot: a broken wine jug, a torn boot, the remnants of a fried chicken.

She followed the tracks to the road. It looked like they were definitely headed toward the Horada pass, following the false lead.

Then she remembered how, seemingly in another life, she and Ares -- also mortal then, but accidentally and briefly -- were trying to find the enchanted scroll that had undone his powers and screwed up everything else. "Where'd you learn to read tracks like that?" Ares asked, and she proudly told him Xena had taught her. They started talking about Xena and realized, to their mutual consternation, that they had something in common: an unbridled enthusiasm for the Warrior Princess.

Gabrielle put down the lantern, sat down on the trampled grass, and wept silently.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, she thought that she should go toward Horada, look for other campsites, make sure that Gascar's men had indeed left the valley. But what was the point? Of course they'd left. She might as well admit it; the real reason she had gone out wasn't to make sure that the way was free for Ares to leave. She knew it and Xena knew it.

A chill wind blew through the trees and lashed at her wet face. Gabrielle hunched her shoulders, wishing she'd taken a cloak with her, wishing she'd never had this crazy idea, wishing she weren't such a damn fool. She prided herself on how strong she had become since leaving Potadeia, and yet here she was, getting out of the house like a good little girl so that Xena could ‑-

She shivered and crossed her arms, trying to shield herself from another nasty gust of wind. The moon was hiding again. Her thoughts went back to the first and only time she had been with a man: her wedding night with Perdicas, kind sensitive Perdicas who had been so afraid to hurt her that it was a wonder anything happened at all. And it had been good, in spite of their fumbling; he had held her so lovingly in his arms, caressed her with such eager tenderness. Oh, it would be nothing like that for them -- they were probably going at it like animals, doing wild, bizarre things like in those carvings in Aphrodite's temple... Stop it. Stop it.  She clutched her head. This was a good way to go insane.

What if Xena had felt the same way about her and Perdicas, back then? If it had been even half as agonizing for her... No, impossible -- Xena couldn't have had such feelings for her at the time, she was sure of it ... or almost sure. And there was that other time when she had nearly left Xena to stay with Najara; she wondered vaguely if, underneath all her spiritual pretensions, Najara had been interested in her that way. Maybe she had betrayed Xena first, and now it was coming back to haunt her.

Oh, but she had betrayed Xena far worse, betrayed her to the cruel tyrant Ming Tien when Xena went to Ch'in to kill him at Lao Ma's request; not because she wanted to stop Xena from committing murder, as she had told herself then, but because she had felt so threatened by Xena's bond to this mysterious woman from her past. Jealousy -- even if it was a friend's jealousy at the time, not a lover's -- had pushed her to do something that nearly destroyed them both, nearly cost Xena her life. She couldn't allow it to happen again, couldn't succumb to that emotion; she could never, ever again let herself act on jealousy.

Something wet landed on her hand. She hadn't even noticed that she was crying again. No, wait a minute... Another drop fell on her arm, then on her back. Oh, why not. If she was going to sit here cold and alone while Xena was in a warm bed with him, she might as well get rained on.

The rain ended almost as quickly as it began, and Gabrielle felt irritated at herself for wallowing in self-pity like that. She had known what she was doing when she had told Xena, in so many words, to go ahead and sleep with Ares. Xena's feelings for Ares might run deeper than she had realized before, but if it came down to a choice, Xena would always choose her. They were meant to be together -- Xena and Gabrielle, Gabrielle and Xena, two halves of one whole -- and they always would be. She had to be strong, for Xena.

Gabrielle got up and walked back to where she had left Clio. At the sight of her, the horse snorted impatiently and stamped her foot.

"We're going." She patted Clio on the muzzle. "Sorry you had to wait."

The sky was a solid black now, the night pitch-dark, but she still put out the lantern once she reached the road. If she did run into Gascar's men, she had to spot them before they spotted her.

She rode at a trot toward the Horada pass, reciting poems in her head to keep her mind off other things. It seemed to be working, as long as she remembered to steer clear of anything involving love and jealousy.

It had been nearly an hour since she had left Gascar's camp. The rain had started again, a small drizzle that wouldn't even give her the satisfaction of getting thoroughly, miserably, melodramatically soaked. Gabrielle thought of taking refuge in the thick grove by the roadside. Just then, she saw distant lights moving toward her. Probably just a caravan of merchants traveling late -- but it was best not to take chances. She rode off the road and waited behind the trees. At least it was relatively dry.

Soon enough, she heard the low rumble of hooves, getting closer, and then still-unintelligible voices. She peered between the trees. There were at least twenty-five men on horseback, three of them carrying lanterns.

"... an' he sez, 'Yes, Miss -- would you hold the horse, please?'" said a boorish voice followed by a gale of crude laughter -- it was apparently the punchline to a joke.

The wavering light of a lantern snatched a man's face out of the darkness in a yellowish cloud of watery mist, and Gabrielle stifled a gasp, her hands tightening on Clio's reins. It was Demetrius, the young warrior who had led the bounty hunters' raid on the farm in search of Ares and had tried to banter with her while she posed as a peasant girl.

They were back.

A heavy, deep voice said, "Hey, Demetrius. How much further to that damn farm?"

* ~ * ~ *

Ares lifted a hand and brushed his knuckles over Xena's face, tracing its outline. She lay on top of him, her hair cascading down on his chest and shoulders, a soft twinkle dancing in the infinite blue of her eyes. The shadows on the walls swayed gently as the flame in the lamp flickered, its glow made warmer by the glimpse of densely knit darkness in the half-open shutters.

She leaned forward to pluck a short kiss from his lips. Never, ever again would he complain about mortality.

"Hey," Xena said.

"What?"

"Was this your" -- there was mischief playing at the corners of her mouth -- "your first time as a mortal?"

"Gods." He laughed ruefully. "Was I that bad?"

She pressed her forehead to his, chuckling.

"You were great."

"It wasn't. I mean, wasn't my first time." And thank the Fates for that; it had been embarrassing enough with whatever her name was. There hadn't been many; just the occasional woman in a village or on a farmstead who would offer him a hot dinner and a warm bed with her in it.

Ares thought he saw a shade of disappointment cross Xena's face.

"Or maybe it was," he said. "First time ever."

Her eyebrows twitched in puzzlement. He drew her close and touched his lips to hers.

When he opened his eyes, there was understanding in her look -- and then, unexpectedly, a trace of sadness.

"Ares..." she said thoughtfully. "How old are you?"

It had to be a bit disconcerting to her, to know that he was a few thousand years old. He was jolted by the realization that it was a bit disconcerting to him, too. Was he starting to think like a mortal?

"I told you my life didn't really begin until I met you. You just never believe me when I say this stuff." He grinned at her. "Guess that means you're in bed with a younger man."

"Oh yeah.... right."

She gave Ares a slow, lingering, teasing kiss. As he locked his arms around her and parried the play of her tongue, her breath quickened and she squirmed a little, grinding her hips into him.

"Uh -- " Dammit, there were some things about mortality he could still have done without. "You gotta give me some more time..."

"Well -- you're only human, Ares. I like that in a man."

She dove to kiss his nipple, taking it gently between her teeth, swirling her tongue around it, making a tingling warmth spread under his skin.

"Maybe not that much more time..."

He heard her muffled, husky laugh and closed his eyes, ready to let the next wave lift him up, rock him, sweep him away. But something was worrying at his mind, some thought trying to wriggle its way out of the dark corner where he had squashed it earlier.

"Xena...." He ran his hand over her hair. "What happens tomorrow?"

She was still for a moment. Then she lifted her head. There was wistfulness in her stare, and uncertainty, and something like a hopeless plea.

"Maybe there is no tomorrow," she said softly.

"Yes, there is."

Her face half-turned and framed by the pale golden light, Xena was a thousand leagues away. After a while she said, slipping her fingers through the hair on his chest, "You could stay here... you'll be safe -- no one will bother you. You know, you might find a kind of peace here that you might not find afterwards..."

It wasn't completely unexpected -- but still, it was hard, this fall from his newly built little Olympus on earth. So that was what she'd had in mind all along, to stash him away in this dump.

She finally turned to him and made a brave effort to smile.

"And I'll come and visit you..."

The anger he had felt earlier was stirring again, and he almost wanted to say something brutal -- You want me to sit around and wait for you like some damn concubine? -- but no, dammit, no, this could be their only night and it was not going to end that way.

Maybe she was right; there was no tomorrow. Ares gripped her shoulders and pulled her up, and when he kissed her again it was a hard demanding kiss, as if he were claiming her, making her his own, no matter what happened next.

After they broke apart, Xena took only a moment to breathe before she kissed him back with equal force. Then she slid down and caressed his nipples again, stroking, licking, using the lightest touch of her teeth until he was panting and gasping and more than ready for her. Ares' hands cupped her breasts as she took him inside her. At that moment he knew, with the same flat certainty that he knew he was mortal, that for her, he would wait not only on a farm but in an Elijan village. Maybe later, he would be irritated at himself for being so weak. Maybe later. But not now, not now.

* ~ * ~ *

"Shouldn't be more than a coupla hours, Gascar."

Gabrielle recognized the voice as Demetrius', even though the darkness had swallowed up his face once again.

"You sure you can find it?"

Clio picked this moment to toss her head, making the leaves rustle, but the men must have thought it was the wind. Gabrielle lifted her hand, which suddenly seemed to belong to someone else, and put it on the mare's head to still her. Each breath she made was burning her throat.

"Sure thing, Gascar," Demetrius said with a false joviality that disguised a hint of fear.

"You fuck up one more time, and I'm gonna make you regret you ever joined up for this job."

"Hey, how was I supposed to know it was him?"

"How indeed," Gascar snorted. "You were too busy making eyes at some little hussy." (As the men guffawed, Gabrielle felt a sickly heat rise all over her face and neck.) "Good thing we didn't get too far away."

"Xena's gonna pay for this," said Demetrius.

"Listen, smart guy." Gascar's band had ridden past her, and the voices were starting to fade. "We don't wanna mess with Xena unless we have to. If Ares is in there alone, we go in, do the job, and go off to collect the bounty. Got that?"

"Got it, Gascar. You're the boss."

Gascar grumbled something about the dark night and the rain, and then the men's voices could no longer be heard over the wind and the clatter of hooves. When all trace of them had dissolved into the night, Gabrielle let out her breath.

Biting her lip a little too hard in concentration, she lit her lantern to look for the path. There was a shortcut through the woods and she was going to find it. She couldn't panic, couldn't panic or she would get lost. Focus and stay calm, just like Xena. All of her consciousness had shrunk to a single thought -- Don't let them get to the house first -- but if that was focus, it wasn't making it any easier to stay calm. A vision of Xena in Ares' arms, her face peaceful, her head on his shoulder, intruded momentarily into her mind; this time, though, the pang barely registered. Right now, it didn't matter who Xena was with, only that she might still be sleeping, exposed and unprepared, when Gascar and his men attacked.

* ~ * ~ *

The oil lamp had burned out when Xena woke up. She turned to settle more comfortably and laid her head on Ares' chest, listening to the distant sound of his heart, to his soft level breath. As her eyes got used to the dark, she looked up at him, just able to make out the shape of his features. It all came back to her: the look on his face when they made love, a look of pleasure that was almost agony, of unbearable tenderness, of something like surprise; the sound of his sighs that deepened into moans; the strength of his arms as he pulled her down toward him when it was too much for him to endure. "Don't let me sleep," he had muttered afterwards, still holding on to her, "don't let me sleep" -- only to drift away moments later.

She didn't want to wake him yet. She stretched a little and marveled at how light she felt. It was as if she had been carrying something heavy for a long, long time, desperately struggling not to drop it, and had finally let go.

Xena turned and lay on her back, and looked toward the window. Out there was a moonless night, a blanket of darkness still untouched by dawn, and --

Gabrielle.

The walls crumbled inside her, releasing a flood of misery. Gabrielle was out there alone and cold and unhappy. Xena felt a scalding shame at the thought that she had, at least briefly, wished this night would never end. She sat up abruptly and got out of bed, wanting to get away from herself more than from Ares.

She walked to the window, the floor cold and rough under her feet.

She had spent half the night rolling around in bed with Ares, barely giving a thought to the woman with whom she had pledged to share her life -- except when he'd asked her what would happen next, and she had been weak enough, or crazy enough, to all but promise that she'd continue to sleep with him. Xena pushed the shutters wide open and breathed in the cool air. I'll come and visit you... Would she actually have the nerve to tell Gabrielle she was going off to visit Ares? Gabrielle would probably nod quickly and avert her eyes, and that would make it worse. How could she have convinced herself that she wasn't betraying Gabrielle? Of course, Gabrielle had told her so ... but only out of desperation. It wasn't as if she had left Gabrielle much of a choice.

Something else was troubling her. Xena rubbed her arm ... the wetness on her skin -- it was raining. Dammit. She shouldn't have let Gabrielle leave -- should have gone with her -- should have gone after her and stopped her...

She went back and sat down on the edge of the bed. Ares stirred and sighed in his sleep.

Xena remembered the way they had looked at each other, his face lit with such quiet, simple happiness. Even if she could undo it, she wouldn't. She wouldn't take that away from him ... wouldn't take it away from herself.

Her eyes burning with unshed tears, Xena sighed and stared into the window. Maybe it would all work out somehow.

Outside, the black of the sky was now dabbed with the first streaks of pale grey. A bird began to chirp, tentatively at first and then louder as its warble was joined by another. She had to go back to her room; she owed Gabrielle that much. And leave Ares to wake up alone, and miss seeing him wake up and smile at her... Maybe she could wait a little longer. Maybe she could wake him.

She was still thinking about it when the predawn quiet exploded in a loud crash.

* ~ * ~ *

Ares bolted upright and groped automatically for the sword at his side. It took him a few moments to remember where he was. The farmhouse -- Xena --

Xena?

A dream ... no, not a dream, there she was, standing by the bed. Life was wonderful.

And it could also turn out to be really, really short, judging by all that banging and clattering in the house.

"Shit," Xena whispered. "All my weapons are in the other room -- "

"You think it's Gascar and the boys?"

He jumped out of bed, fumbling around for his clothes.

"Could be -- I don't know -- " She was slipping hastily into her shift.

"I'll go first." Ares had found the pants and hopped around trying to get into them. Knowing that those cockroaches could kill him was bad enough, but not being able to dress with a snap of his fingers -- even after all this time, it was damn frustrating.

"No, no -- give me your sword -- "

There was another clatter, followed by a shout of, "Xena!"

Gabrielle? From sheer shock, he missed the pant leg, stumbled and landed hard on the floor, muttering a curse. Great. If it isn't the morals squad.

"Xena!" she yelled again, her voice frantic. "Gascar's army is on its way!"

* ~ * ~ *

She hadn't beaten them by much. Not half an hour later, peering out of a side window of the house Gabrielle spotted Gascar's men coming over the ridge of the hill. It was almost light now, and the air rang with birdsong. Silvery beads of water still glittered in the trees, but the drizzle had ended, giving way to a wispy gray mist.

"They're here," she said, not looking at Ares. "She should be ready soon -- she'll give you the signal. I'll try to stall them as long as I can."

"Yeah, yeah," he grunted. "You saved them the trouble of knocking down the door."

"Well ... it's not like it would have been much trouble."

In her determination to make enough noise to ensure that Xena and Ares were awake and presentable when she saw them, she had slammed the front door a little too hard behind her. It had come off the hinges and now held in place only because it was propped up by a rickety chair.

Gabrielle smoothed the blue dress she had put on over her warrior garb, and finally brought herself to glance at Ares. In the half-darkness, she thought she saw him give her a nervous look. It occurred to her that he might be worried she'd give him away to Gascar. She pursed her lips. Of course, Ares would get such an idea.

The warriors stopped outside the house. Some of them began to dismount, obviously trying to keep things quiet.

"You're on," Ares whispered tensely.

The porch groaned and squeaked under the heavy boots; the chair grated on the floor as the door was pushed slowly, and then came the expected crash as the door and the chair tumbled down. That was her cue.

Gabrielle screamed at the top of her lungs and raced toward the door, making a spur-of -the-moment detour to grab a couple of pots and a frying pan from the kitchen. Three men were already inside the house. Screaming again, she threw the pots at them and advanced, swinging the pan. At least for a moment, they were startled enough to retreat.

"What's going on?" said a heavy voice she recognized as Gascar's.

"Get out of my house, you -- you -- you no-good thugs!" she screeched as she ran out on the porch, waving the frying pan around.

"Go on, search the house," Gascar said irritably. Gabrielle took a look at him. He was stocky and broad-shouldered, with a scarred, craggy face, harsh yet unmistakably intelligent.

"No, no -- please! We're just poor peasants! We have no money ... there's nothing to take here!"

She knew she was giving a bad performance -- nothing like that brilliant improvisation last time. Maybe it could only have worked on the spur of the moment.

"Calm down, sweetheart," said Demetrius. "No one wants to rob you. We're after Ares."

"Oh, it's you!" She tilted her head in what was meant to be a seductive manner. "Well, you know Ares has left -- my husband told you -- "

"Girlie, if that was your husband, I'm the Emperor of Rome," Gascar said. "You give us any more trouble and you'll be sorry. All right, boys, go in. And remember, don't bother trying to take him alive. You see him, you kill him."

"Hey, Gascar," Demetrius said. "It could be fun, you know -- to have him on his knees, begging for mercy and all..."

"Shut up, you moron," Gascar snarled. "We're not here for your entertainment. We can't take any chances, not if Xena's helping him. Go on."

Gabrielle stepped aside -- it wasn't time to start fighting yet -- and several of the warriors went inside the house. Gascar turned to her again, eyeing her thoughtfully.

"Wait a minute. You're no farm girl, are you." He scratched his beard and then looked at her with a crooked sneer. "I know -- you're Gabrielle, that girl who hangs around with Xena. The famous -- what do they call you again? -- Battling Bard."

"She's famous?" said Demetrius, clearly impressed.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Gabrielle said.

"So," Gascar said. "None of my business really, but why is Xena hiding Ares? I heard about some of the things he did trying to get her back in his service -- set her up for murder and nearly got her hanged, didn't he?"

There was probably no point in trying to maintain the charade; Gascar was too smart. Still, she said feebly, "Really, sir -- you're mistaking me for someone else..."

"Come on, give it up. You know I'm on to you. Look here, I don't want any trouble with you or with Xena. All we want is" -- he drew a finger quickly across his neck and made a hissing sound -- "Ares."

She stared back at him silently. Inside the house, the soldiers could be heard stomping around and knocking things over.

"You almost got away with it, you know," Gascar chortled. "Lucky for us Ares decided to get plastered in a tavern and spill the beans. One of the fellas there had heard about the bounty, knew which way we were headed, so he went after us and tipped us off. Once the barkeep told me he left with a tall dark-haired woman, it all fell into place. Otherwise, we'd still be on that wild goose chase, riding to the -- "

"He's getting away!" a man's voice shouted from inside.

Gabrielle turned and saw Ares jump out the window and bolt toward the barn. She held her breath.

"Shoot him!" Gascar yelled, forgetting all about her for the moment. One of the men drew his bow. Gabrielle swung the frying pan and it hurtled through the air, knocking him out just as he was releasing the arrow. Then she took off running as fast as she could, hearing Gascar bellow behind her, "Get him, dammit! And get her too!"

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that at least a dozen men were chasing Ares. So far, everything was going according to plan.

A man on horseback caught up with her and swung his sword; Gabrielle dove and rolled on the soggy grass, reaching under her dress to get one of her sais. It was a clean shot, right in the side of the neck; he made a choked sound, his hands going up, and sagged heavily, then tumbled to the ground while the startled horse neighed and bucked.

We're not here to participate in a bloodbath... That was what Xena had said to Ares when they'd tracked him down and told him about the bounty. Well, so much for that, Gabrielle thought, tugging angrily at the dagger. She ripped off her dress, almost tearing it in half, and wiped the blade on it before throwing the wet rag away. Two more men were already coming toward her. Meanwhile, Ares' pursuers had run into the barn after him. If the trap worked properly, any moment now --

A thunderous boom shook the ground as the barn exploded in flames.

* ~ * ~ *

Yeah, baby!  Ares couldn't help grinning as he stopped to catch his breath and looked back at the giant ball of fire. Damn, she was good at this stuff.

"Are you okay?" Xena yelled, running up behind him.

"Yeah ... sure."

More than okay. To make love to her and fight by her side in one night -- after this, one could die without too many regrets.

"Go ahead," he said. "I'll go round the house and take them from the back."

That was the thing to do -- attack now, before Gascar and the surviving men had time to recover. To make sure they didn't recover too quickly, Xena's ululating battle cry pierced the morning mist, rising above the roar of the flames. Beautiful.

As Ares sprinted behind the shack, he almost collided with one of Gascar's warriors. The man, who looked shaken and confused, raised his sword somewhat tentatively. Ares' blow knocked it from his hand and sent it flying. With surprising presence of mind, the man lunged forward and went for his throat, taking him down into a puddle. The son of a bitch obviously hadn't washed in days, and his breath reeked of garlic. As they wrestled, Ares couldn't get an angle to turn the blade of his sword toward his attacker; finally, he jerked the hilt forward and rammed it into the man's head. His eyes rolled back and his hands slackened; he slumped, dropping his head on Ares' shoulder, and stopped moving.

With an effort, Ares pushed him off, not sure if his enemy was dead or unconscious, and sat up. He was muddy and wet, his face and neck splattered with blood. Yet again, the thrill of the fight had eluded him. Maybe he was just too close to it now, when he could still feel the man all over him, when he knew that the crunching bone and the thick gushing blood could have been his own. Yet mortals knew it too, and still felt the intoxication of deadly combat; he had felt it with them when he was a god. Maybe they were just used to it.

There wasn't time to think about it now. Ares dipped his palm in the puddle and ran it across his face, but the cold slimy water made him feel even dirtier. Picking up his sword, he jumped to his feet and ran toward the front of the house, to where he could hear the shouts and the clang of metal. He got there just in time to hear Gascar shout, "Dammit, it's just two of them!" and to prove him wrong by quickly taking down two of his men.

Breathing hard, he looked up and found himself staring into a pair of steely gray eyes, one slightly bluer than the other.

"Ares," Gascar said in a low growl that actually gave Ares a shiver of fear.

The warlord charged.

Good thing he didn't have to fight Gascar when mortality was still new to him, when every movement felt slow and clumsy, hampered by the lack of god-power in his limbs and by the unaccustomed need to avoid injury. Even now, it wasn't going to be easy. Though past his prime, Gascar was good.

As their swords clashed, Ares saw a crooked sneer on the warlord's face.

"Not so much fun, is it, when you can't just zap people with fireballs?" Gascar was panting but he still managed to put some mockery in his voice. "You had it pretty good -- pushing people around, knowing no one could ever lay a hand on you... Well, guess what, you're just one of us now. You're not even that good a fighter."

Parrying a blow, Ares scowled and bit his lip. The man was obviously trying to throw him off-balance, but knowing that didn't make it any easier to ignore his taunts.

"Don't worry, if we don't get you, someone else will," Gascar went on. "That's a pretty long list of people you pissed off. Lucky for you if they make it quick. Probably have you squealing like a stuck pig before you die..."

Ares flinched and barely avoided getting hit as his foot skidded. The morning light was in his eyes, peeking through the thinning clouds, making him squint.

"Shut up," he said through clenched teeth.

"Can't manage anything smarter than that, eh?" Gascar advanced on him, making him back away toward the house. The morning light glared through the thinning clouds, hurting his eyes. "You know how pathetic you are? Even if you survive, you'll never be anything more than a loser" -- he made another thrust and the tip of his sword slashed Ares' arm -- "relying on Xena to bail you out..."

At that instant, Ares caught sight of her dispatching one of Gascar's men; she looked in his direction, and their eyes met. He wanted to laugh. To think that he'd let this blowhard get to him.

He chuckled, and the gloating in Gascar's face gave way to puzzlement. Ares' next blow nearly knocked the sword out of the warlord's hand.

"You have no idea," Ares said.

They fought silently after that, except for harsh gasps and grunts, in a whirl of thrusts and parries and blocks, steps forward and steps back on the slick ground; it ended when Ares' sword slid past Gascar's, metal grating on metal, and plunged into his stomach right underneath the armor. Gascar gave a hoarse cry, and as Ares yanked the blade out he swayed and sank to his knees. His eyes, already growing glassy and dim, looked up at the former God of War with that mix of agony, rage and disbelief which Ares had seen on so many faces over millennia. A strand of saliva hung from his open mouth.

"I'll see you in Tartarus ... someday," he rasped.

Ares nodded grimly.

"You probably will."

A quick stab to the neck finished the job. He watched the warlord crumple, a dark pool of blood spreading over the shiny grass.

The last of Gascar's men were making their getaway over the top of the hill, their shouts and the neighs of their horses fading in the distance. A gust of wind whipped at the wet grass and made the flames rise higher over the still-blazing barn, where a moment later something crashed loudly, making a fountain of sparks shoot up toward the sky. The battle was over now. Ares wiped his face with a damp mud-streaked hand, trying to steady his breath. His eyes locked on Xena's again, and suddenly, there it was at last, that moment when fighting together made them one. He thought he saw a smile touch her parted lips.

She gave him an almost imperceptible nod, turned away and went to inspect the bodies.

Ares looked around and noticed Gabrielle approaching. The girl had actually come through for him; after everything that had happened, he hadn't been entirely confident of her dedication to keeping him alive.

He was still thinking of what to say to her when he saw her hand flash upward, a glint of metal in it.

No.

Ares was too paralyzed to move when the almost white blur sliced the air, swishing toward him. That little --

He expected to be thrown back by the sheer force of the blow, and to feel excruciating pain shoot through his body; but there was none of that. Instead, he heard a dull thud behind him. He whirled around. One of the men he had brought down before, and apparently only wounded, was sprawled with a sword clutched in his hand and Gabrielle's dagger buried in his neck, his head resting at an unnatural angle on the bottom step of the porch.

Ares' knees buckled, and he had to lean on his sword to stay on his feet. He blinked and gulped painfully for air, waiting for his heart to slow down.

"So ... it's come to this," he said, gasping. "The God of War ... saved by the little sidekick."

Gabrielle gave him an exasperated look.

"You're welcome."

Xena ran up and squeezed her in a hug, resting her chin on Gabrielle's shoulder and closing her eyes for a moment.

"Gabrielle ... thank you..."

"Yeah," Gabrielle said in a small voice.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

Xena held her a few moments longer, then let go and went over to Ares. The sight of all the blood on him made her frown.

"Are you hurt?"

"Nah, just a scratch." He pointed to his arm. Then he glanced down at Gascar and said, almost admiringly, "He was one tough son of a bitch."

"Come on," Xena said. "I'll take care of that for you."

He followed her into the house, hoping Gabrielle wouldn't tag along. She did, of course.

In the kitchen, Ares took off his vest and washed off the blood while Xena went to get the bandages and the ointment. Then she cleaned and dressed his wound, and said with a quick half-smile, "All better now" -- and she was so close that he couldn't resist reaching up to plant a small kiss on the corner of her mouth. Xena tensed and stood up straight.

"I think we all need to wash up," she said. "I'll bring in some more water."

She walked out briskly.

Smoke from the barn, with a hint of the nauseating smell of burning flesh, drifted into the kitchen through the small window. The fire was still crackling outside; the only other sounds were the occasional whinnying of a horse and the short screech of the rusty handle when Xena pulled up the bucket from the well.

She was gone for too long. After a while, Ares glanced at Gabrielle and saw her make for the door. He got up and went after her.

Xena was standing on the porch, with the full bucket at her feet. She leaned against a pole, absently running her hand over the rough wood, her head hung low.

"Xena." Gabrielle came up and touched her shoulder. "Is something wrong?"

She looked up, a faraway, perplexed expression on her face.

"We've got to do something about the bodies..."

"Drag them to the barn," Ares said. "Perfect for garbage disposal."

"Yeah..." Xena lowered her eyes again. When she spoke next, she seemed to be talking to herself.

"This was one peaceful place in my whole life..."

Gabrielle shot Ares a look that said, "This is all your fault," and patted Xena's hands. As he watched Xena rest her cheek on the top of Gabrielle's head and press her hand, his mouth tightened bitterly. Three's a crowd. Yet he had to admit that right now, Xena needed the meddling blonde. How could he offer her comfort when her distress was somewhat baffling to him, something that he would surely never feel or even completely understand?

He turned and was about to go back into the house when he heard her say, "Ares."

Something in her voice made Ares' heart skip a beat and the breath stick in his throat. He turned back. There was a timid, almost frightened look in her eyes.

"You can't stay here." She glanced furtively at Gabrielle. "Some of Gascar's men got away -- they could come back and -- " Her voice trailed off. "It isn't safe anymore."

Her words seemed to hang in the air between them as he stood still, waiting for the verdict.

Gabrielle opened her mouth, looked from Ares to Xena and back, and sighed.

"You can travel with us for a few days," she said. "Until we find a safe place."

Xena let out a long breath, her shoulders sagging a little.

Her voice sounded quite casual when she said, "All right."

* ~ * ~ *

The clouds had cleared by the time they left the farm, riding side by side with Xena in the middle. Ares, unusually subdued, rode astride a horse taken from one of the dead men; it was a beautiful animal, its sleek hide almost jet-black with a tint of bronze. As Xena glanced at him, his ring glinted a bright white in the sun, hurting her eyes. She thought of Ares' almost childlike excitement when they'd found it on Gascar while dragging the body to the barn, and of his surprising squeamishness when it turned out that cutting off the dead man's finger was the only way to get the ring off. Their eyes met, and she turned away toward Gabrielle, who was staring straight ahead, her face tense.

Xena wasn't sure what would happen now -- not even sure what she wanted to happen. That was something new, and it scared her; it was as if she were riding a horse and had lost control of it, which hadn't happened to her since she was fourteen. Thinking too far beyond the next few days was a bad idea.

What she needed, what they needed, was a purpose. She remembered that when she and Gabrielle heard about the bounty on Ares, they had been on the way to Elaea; the once-quiet town, where the worship of the Olympians had been almost completely abandoned after news of the Twilight had reached the populace, had found itself embroiled in a nasty turf war between two upstart religious cults, and an old acquaintance on the city council had pleaded for Xena's help. They'd go to Elaea, then. That was the thing to do, pick up where they'd left off.

They rode for a while over the bright emerald-green hills, past sparse trees, past a distant cluster of huts with thatched roofs and a large vineyard where a few peasants were tending to the vines, across a shallow brook where the horses' hooves kicked up spurts of silvery droplets. When Ares spoke up, the sound of his voice was almost a shock.

"So. Are we going anywhere in particular?"

"Elaea."

Gabrielle shot her a surprised look.

"What's in Elaea?" Ares asked.

"Couple of cults making trouble."

Ares seemed to ponder this information. "Cults." He wiggled his eyebrows and gave her a fake grin. "Any -- interesting rituals? Virgins dragged kicking and screaming to the altar?"

Gabrielle sighed in exasperation.

"It's a job," Xena said curtly.

Ares nodded, obviously realizing the futility of attempts to make conversation. After another brief pause, he started whistling a tune that Xena recognized as an old Thracian war song. She could almost physically sense Gabrielle's impulse to yell at him to shut up. She thought of telling him to stop, but in a few moments he stopped on his own, and they rode on in silence.

CHAPTER 4

Gabrielle shuffled into the cramped, stuffy room lit by a sputtering lamp; the innkeeper was obviously skimping on oil. She took off her boots and undressed, slipped on her nightshirt, put out the light and dove into the bed, trying to get comfortable on the coarse sheets and the lumpy stale-smelling pillow.

Once, she had wished so dearly that Xena would stay indoors more often instead of braving the weather and the bugs at yet another campsite. Maybe it's true, she thought; when the gods want to punish us, they grant us our wishes. She wasn't sure which gods were still around, but some higher powers had obviously played such a trick on her. What she wouldn't have given right now to curl up in a bedroll under the stars, by the still-shimmering remnants of a campfire ... with no one else around except her and Xena.

She thought of the first time they had camped with Ares, the night after leaving the farm. After a quick cold meal, Xena tossed him a couple of extra blankets, and they all turned in. It was a while before Gabrielle fell asleep. The next thing she knew, the sun was high and hot and the sky was a pitilessly bright blue, and Xena and Ares and their horses were gone. She opened her mouth to scream and jolted awake, sitting up in her bedroll with a gasp. It was still dark, and everyone was still there.

She felt a little better in the morning when they were briefly alone, and Xena hugged her and kissed her so very sweetly, and asked if she was okay; Gabrielle nodded, and Xena whispered in her ear, "I love you."

They stopped at a lake in the afternoon, when daylight hadn't even begun to fade yet. After they set up camp, Xena said quite casually, "We're going for a swim..." and there was a moment of uncertainty before she added, "Gabrielle and I." It made sense, of course. They undressed behind a shrub and swam toward a tiny island with a cluster of trees; and when they were almost there, Xena dove down and slid between Gabrielle's thighs and nuzzled her, making her gasp and splutter. When Xena surfaced, there was a sparkle in her eyes but also just a hint of anxious yearning for approval; they looked at each other, and Gabrielle shook her head and laughed. Having reached the island, they rolled in the tall wiry grass, kissing the cool droplets of water off each other's faces and necks and shoulders, and it was wonderful -- until the moment when Gabrielle gently ran her teeth over Xena's nipple and heard the husky sound she was waiting for, and her mind filled instantly with the knowledge that Xena had made that sound for Ares; she felt sick at the thought that she might still be able to smell him on her, taste him on her. That was almost enough to make her stop; but Xena pulled her up for a kiss and stroked her wet back, and moaned louder, and Gabrielle knew that she would still do anything to hear those sounds and to feel Xena's body arch against hers.

When they returned to the campsite, Ares gave them a silent sideways look, got up and went to unsaddle and brush down his horse. Gabrielle felt sure that he knew what they had been up to. There was no reason he shouldn't know, she told herself; except that she couldn't quite chase away the thought that one of these days, she might be the one waiting for Xena and Ares, and wondering what they were doing.

Dinner was caught and cleaned and gutted, and Gabrielle went into the woods, less than fifty paces from the water's edge, to gather dry branches for the fire. As she was coming back, her view of the shore blocked by the dense foliage, she heard Ares' voice -- "Oh yeah... that feels good" -- and stopped in her tracks, nearly dropping the firewood. She wouldn't -- not so soon... Then, Ares said, "Ow -- ow" and Xena chuckled, "Don't be such a baby." With some trepidation, Gabrielle parted the branches and saw that he was lying on his stomach, his vest (but only his vest) off, Xena straddling him and kneading his back. Gabrielle took a deep breath; this, she could live with. She walked toward them, and Xena looked up and said, with a jocularity that had a slightly defensive edge, "Mortality hurts, you know."

The next evening, as they sat by the campfire eating roasted partridge, Gabrielle glanced up to see Xena and Ares looking at each other. It was a look that told her too much, and it cut deep, making something dull and cold lodge inside her chest. Then Xena turned her head and their eyes met; and after a moment Gabrielle inclined her head slightly, biting her lip, and looked up again. It wasn't even a real nod, but she knew she was saying yes to a question Xena would never dare to ask. She reflected that she had, after all, given Xena the go-ahead; if she went back on it now, it would feel like an act of jealousy rather than love, like yanking at a leash. Ares would be gone, and it would be just her and Xena, and -- she couldn't have explained it, but something between them would be gone too.

Another night went by, and another day. On the night after that Gabrielle woke up to hear a faint noise, and two tall shadows, one after the other, separated themselves from the dark mass of the trees. She watched as they walked back to the campsite, as Xena wordlessly squeezed Ares' hand, as they both settled into their bedrolls. So this was how it was going to be.

Three days later they arrived in Elaea. As they stood in the dark, dank-smelling anteroom of the inn, Xena paused briefly, her face impassive, turning her head only for an instant in Ares' direction, and finally said, "Two rooms." In her mind's worried eye, Gabrielle saw Xena tiptoeing out in the middle of the night, and then heard her own voice say, "Make that three rooms." Xena turned abruptly and gave her a startled look, both guilty and relieved.

When she came to Gabrielle's room that night, she looked almost timid, as if half expecting to be kicked out. Then they lay together, just hugging, and suddenly Xena said, "Tell me a story." Gabrielle squinted warily; Xena had seldom reacted to her storytelling with anything more than bemused tolerance. "What kind of story?" she asked, and Xena muttered, "Any kind ... I like the way you tell them." She slid down a little, resting her head on Gabrielle's belly. A little hesitantly, Gabrielle launched into a tale about a poor fisherman who caught a fish of such beautiful colors that he felt sorry for it and let it go, and the fish turned out to be a sea nymph who promised to grant him three wishes for his kindness. (At that point, she realized that Xena was listening attentively and really began to put her heart in the story.) The fisherman, she continued, hurried home to tell his wife of his good fortune; and then, looking at the meager dinner on their table, he sighed for a big juicy steak. Lo and behold, one appeared before them that very instant, and the wife cursed him for wasting a wish on such foolishness; on and on she went until the poor man cried, May the gods strike you dumb, you harpy! -- and he had to use his third and final wish to restore her gift of speech.

Xena chuckled quietly; after a moment's pause, she said, "That's pretty sad, isn't it?" and Gabrielle replied, stroking her hair, "Well, I don't know ... it was a really good steak!" They both laughed, and then Xena shot her a mischievous look and said, "Let's hope it was better than the happy boot." That was a reference to a lighthearted moment they had shared at a tavern in Thessaly a couple of months earlier: Gabrielle had complained that her steak tasted and felt exactly like a boot, and Xena, who liked to rib her about getting all sentimental toward animals, had deadpanned, "At least the boot lived a happy life." The memory of it made them both laugh, and they laughed together until they were kissing; then they made love, and held each other in silence, and talked some more, and all was well. Or almost well, because hiding out in the back of her mind was the knowledge that they could no longer talk about everything.

Xena's scheme to deal with the two rapacious cults actually gave Ares more to do than Gabrielle; but it worked. Since this scheme also involved getting some of the locals to believe that Ares was still a god, for him to stay in Elaea was not an option, and so they moved on together -- just as they moved on from the quiet village they passed through a few days later. The question of finding a safe haven for Ares had yet to come up. Somehow, without ever talking about it, they began spending more nights at inns, and it was tacitly understood that on some of those nights Xena went to Ares; and somehow, this insane arrangement had started to seem almost normal, even if it was almost impossible at times to pretend that it didn't exist.

There had been the morning when, having slept late (and alone), Gabrielle came down into the inn's greasy-smelling dining room and found Xena and Ares sitting at a table half-turned toward each other, laughing at something, hand in hand, faces glowing. Seeing her, Xena froze in mid-laugh and awkwardly moved her hand away, the joy ebbing from her face and giving way to an apologetic look. There had been the night when Gabrielle was startled from her sleep by a loud crash; the next morning, Xena had stared into her oatmeal and muttered a quick explanation about rickety furniture. Before they left, she conferred in hushed tones with the smirking innkeeper, and then spent a long time hammering in Ares' room. As they were leaving the inn, Gabrielle felt like grabbing Xena by the shoulders and shouting in her face, What are you doing? How can you? That frightened her.

And there was more: the time when they had fought to free some children from a couple of slave traders and their guard of mercenaries; and when the fighting was done and Gabrielle went over to comfort the huddled children -- crying and frightened but unhurt -- she turned and saw the look that passed between Xena and Ares as they re-sheathed their swords. They were both slightly out of breath, their lips parted in a hint of a smile waiting to break through, the same glint in their eyes. They only looked at each other for an instant, but that was enough. It was as if, across a distance of at least ten paces, they had clasped hands. He was still bad for her (of course!); this was exactly why. But before Gabrielle could focus on that, another thought filled her with a dull aching heaviness: the knowledge that their mutual joy in a good fight was a bond between them which she could never share.

Before, when they had traveled in the company of Eve or Virgil, Gabrielle had sometimes found that she missed having Xena all to herself, missed the ease of their chats and the comfort of their silences. This was different. The day after leaving Elaea, as they rode through a long stretch of the open plain, it finally got to her; she prodded Clio and took off at a gallop, slowing down nearly two hundred paces ahead. Xena caught up with her and said quietly, "Gabrielle?" ‑- and Gabrielle replied, much more caustically than she'd meant to, "I think I need a little break from all this togetherness." They rode by side for a while, just the two of them, and Gabrielle relaxed enough to make small talk; then she noticed Xena stealing a look behind her shoulder to make sure Ares was behind them, and she sighed and tugged at the reins, stopping to wait for him.

The lack of privacy was bad enough; having something unspoken and unspeakable linger between them when they were alone was worse. They had swept things under the rug before -- but it had always been things they had managed, for better or worse, to put behind them. This was here and now, a part of their lives they couldn't possibly share.

Once, she had decided to talk about one of those buried things from the past -- what happened in Ch'in, her anger at Xena back then, her horror at her own betrayal -- with the small hope that it might lead to a talk about the here and now. They were camping out near a stream; Ares had fallen asleep, and Xena sat by the water watching the quivering pearly trail of moonlight and occasionally making it ripple with a long stick. Gabrielle crawled out of her bedroll and came to sit next to her. Xena wrapped a warm, comfortable arm around her shoulder, and Gabrielle leaned against her, catching the leathery scent of her sweat. After a long silence she said, "Xena... you know -- I've been thinking..." She felt Xena's body tense a bit, and in that instant she knew that if she started to talk about this, it would sound as if she were blaming Xena, or blaming Ares -- after all, he was implicated too, however hard it was to comprehend that the man she had just watched fumble with a fishing line was the same being as the god who had sent her half across the world with a flick of his hand.

Her words still hung in the cool air over the murmur of the stream and the clicking and whirring of insects, and Xena's arm was stiff around her. Gabrielle let out a slow breath and closed her eyes. After a moment she dropped her head on Xena's shoulder and whispered, "I love you."

She and Ares avoided each other as much as they could, which wasn't much. Being Ares, he couldn't resist the occasional gibe about little things like Clio's name: "You named your horse after one of Apollo's floozies?" he asked, eyebrows raised in mock puzzlement, and when Gabrielle tersely replied that Clio was the Muse of History, he smirked, "Right, one of Apollo's floozies." Mostly, though, even Ares apparently knew better than to snipe at her now. And yet with every passing day, he got on her nerves more and more.

A part of her knew that in a different situation, some of the things that drove her crazy would have seemed innocuous or even endearing: his one-liners, his half-joking gripes about the lack of creature comforts, his efforts to maintain an immaculate appearance (which, she dimly realized, was less about vanity than about holding on to what he was); the fact that he named his horse Dragon; the fact that he bungled nearly every chore he tried to do, and that he wasn't trying much anymore. Once, after an exhausting day, she asked him to watch a pot of rabbit stew while she took a nap; she woke up to find the stew burned -- after all the time she'd spent preparing it -- and Ares engrossed in watching Xena brush down Argo on the other side of the clearing. She nearly lost it that time, especially when he gave her an innocent shrug and said, "We can always have fish..."

Yet, at odd moments, she felt almost sympathetic. There had been the time Xena went hunting on her own, leaving her and Ares to set up camp. After a while they heard a noise that might have signaled her return; they both turned their heads with nervous anticipation, and it occurred to Gabrielle that they were both caught up in something beyond their control, like fellow survivors of a natural disaster. Hurricane Xena.

She had stopped thinking about how it would all turn out.

She wasn't thinking much, either, about some of the things that had preoccupied her lately -- whether the warrior's path was right for her, and what it was doing to her soul. She could go for days now without remembering that boy she killed in the north African desert by mistake, when she thought he was about to attack Xena. What did it say about her, she wondered occasionally, if she was more terrified of losing Xena than of losing herself?

Gabrielle raised herself up and poked at the pillow in a futile attempt to make it softer. Just then, she became aware of light rustling and scratching in the corner. Mice. Well, at least it wasn't bedbugs. She sighed and lay down, pulling the threadbare blanket over her head. She had to try to get some sleep; they were planning to get an early start. She thought of how Xena had come to her the previous night, how greedily Xena had kissed her mouth -- she had never kissed so hard before and it made Gabrielle wonder fleetingly if that was the way she kissed men, the way she kissed him -- how gently they rocked against each other in a familiar rhythm that let the heat build up slowly until it was almost melting her skin from inside, how they snuggled afterwards with her head nestled between Xena's sweat-dampened breasts. Gabrielle sighed and hugged the pillow.

The floorboards in the hallway creaked wearily. She shivered a little and wrapped the blanket tighter around herself, wondering if that was Xena.

* ~ * ~ *

No, definitely not her -- just some dumb hick trampling past the door.

Ares turned on his side and tried to stretch his legs; you obviously had to be a midget to stay at this place. Village inns ... He didn't want to think of the spacious bed, with sheets of black silk and formidable ornate bedposts, where he once entertained his women at the Halls of War ... a lot of women who were not Xena.

He wondered if any of the gods were still alive, and whether they ever checked up on him. He hoped not; he especially hoped that Athena couldn't see him from wherever gods went when they died. He could just see her shake her head with the usual mix of slightly scornful superiority and genuine embarrassment on his behalf. After all those years of trying to win Xena as his Warrior Queen, he had become little more then her sidekick, following her -- and her girlfriend! -- all over Greece, playing his part in her humanitarian projects and sleeping in these ratholes ... and Athena would never understand what made it all worthwhile, at least most of the time.

For a couple of days after they left the farm, he wasn't sure what was going to happen. He and Xena barely spoke, even when alone for a few moments. On the second day, when they camped by the lake and the two women slipped off for a swim (oh yeah, right ... a swim), Ares felt apprehension and anger clutching at his throat. Did she expect him to put up with this? He remembered how, right after he'd given up his godhood, they were talking on a grassy beach and he kept hoping that she'd invite him to join her and Gabrielle and Eve -- thinking that even if she wasn't going to sleep with him, it was okay as long as they could travel together and fight together, as long as he could discover the mortal world by her side. He was thinking the same thing when Xena walked away from him a second time, after saving him from the Furies. But the last few days had changed everything. Damned if he was going to tag along like a eunuch while she and her girlfriend made out behind his back.

The backrub she gave him later in the evening cheered him up a little, besides easing the cramps that had plagued his mortal existence. It was good to feel her touch again, the warm, gentle strength of her hands. But it also made his yearning for her all the more acute, nearly unbearable as he lay just a few paces from Xena that night. There was an easy way out of his misery; but under the circumstances, it seemed like a final humiliation -- especially if Xena or, worse yet, Gabrielle woke up and caught him in the act. Somehow, eventually, he fell asleep and found relief in a dream.

The next morning, when Gabrielle went to wash up in a little cove shielded by lush shrubbery, he wanted to talk to Xena but couldn't work up the nerve, afraid he'd bungle it. As he was rolling up the blankets, he turned and saw her looking at him, and the tenderness in her eyes made him momentarily forget to breathe. He stood up straight and came up to her. After a brief, tense silence, he gave her a lopsided smile and said, hoping his voice would hold steady, "So ... what does a guy have to do to get a date around here?"

Xena almost smiled back but bit her lip; her eyes flickered as she turned away, obviously making an effort to keep a grip on herself. His heart pounding, he took her hands, and she murmured wistfully, "Ares..." There was a rustle behind the bushes -- Gabrielle was obviously back from her bath and getting dressed -- and he could have kicked himself for waiting so long. "Look," he said brusquely, "I just need to know..." She looked up at him, anxiously and a bit defensively, and lightly squeezed his hands, weaving her fingers through his. Ares stopped before he could utter something that would come out as bitter or whiny, or both. With a small smile, he let go of her hands and said, "Well, if you do decide to visit -- you know where to find me."

That evening when they were sitting around the fire eating, he caught Xena looking at him, but he couldn't tell what she was thinking. Another day went by; the next night, Ares lay very still in his bedroll, wondering if it was going to happen, hoping that Xena was only pretending to be asleep and that Gabrielle really was. Then Xena stirred and sat up, and a moment later he raised himself on an elbow. The blue-tinted light of the nearly full moon gave her face an eerie look, chiseled and smooth as marble, but then she turned slightly, and her eyes were sparkling and alive as they met his. Without a word, she rose, walked to the edge of the clearing and vanished into the woods. He got up and followed her as quietly as he could; the tall grass was cool and dewy under his feet, the dampness seeping into the linen of his pants and making them cling heavily to his ankles. His eyes made out a narrow footpath between the trees. It occurred to him that he might lose track of Xena and end up stumbling around the woods looking for her, feeling completely ridiculous.

He caught up with her in a tiny patch of a clearing, where the thick weave of branches and leaves overhead opened up just enough to let in the moonlight. She stood still and rigid by an oddly twisted, moon-bleached fallen tree, watching him as he walked toward her. With no more than half a pace between them, they faced each other, probably for not nearly as long as it seemed. Then they were locked in each other's arms, feeding on each other's mouths, and he willed himself not to rub against her through the thin fabric that was the only thing separating them now. He drew back and actually managed a grin -- "This is what you had in mind, right?" ‑- and she shushed him, pressing into him, biting his lips, breaking the kiss to brush her cheek against his and breathe his name.

They sank down into the grass; Ares slid down to taste her and didn't stop until after the second time she came, and then it was his turn to find out to what exquisite madness she could drive him with her mouth. "Are you okay?" she said afterwards, stroking his forehead, and he knew that she didn't mean just his ragged gasps for breath. He took her hand, kissed her knuckles and whispered, "Never better" and then, after the briefest pause, asked, "Are you?" Her mouth tightening a little, she turned away for a moment, then looked at him again and nodded. "Yeah." She settled into his arms and nestled her head on his shoulder. "Yeah."

That moment was enough for him to wonder if she was thinking about Gabrielle, or about one of the many things she had reason to hold against him. But none of it mattered as they lay together on the warm crushed grass, her lips roaming over his neck and shoulder while her hands stroked his back. He joked with her about giving him backrubs every day, and she laughed softly and held him close, running her fingers through his hair. She asked him if he knew how to fish, and when he said no, she promised to teach him. "I guess you'll have to teach me everything now," he said, half-facetiously but with a touch of real embarrassment at his helplessness; and she gave him a long kiss and said teasingly, "Not everything." This time, when they made love, he knew that she was accepting him not only into her body but into her life.

In Elaea -- where, at Xena's insistence, he grudgingly changed into less conspicuous clothes -- he got to help her on the job. Personally, Ares was of the opinion that the people of this town were smug morons who deserved to be fleeced by cults, warlords, or anyone else who would bother; but he knew better than to voice his views on the subject. He was amused to find out that one of the cult leaders, Ixidor, had formerly served as a very junior priest at one of his temples. This gave Xena an idea -- one that made him rather nervous at first, since she wanted him to do nothing less than pose as a god. He told her she was crazy; she told him he was scared. It worked.

She did an amazing job of rigging up the effects at the temple so that, when he stepped out from behind a statue, it really looked like he had arrived through the ether with the usual light show. He was quite convincing as he glared at the cult leaders and their followers -- whom Xena had managed to gather at the temple on some made-up pretext -- and told them they were toast unless they cleared out of town by sundown. If anyone doubted Ares' identity, it helped that Ixidor, who had seen him before, crumpled to his knees, his ruddy face turning greenish and dripping with sweat, and squawked, "My lord Ares!" (It also helped that, moments before, Xena had coaxed the fool into making some disparaging remarks about his former god.) A glass ball filled with some kind of glowing concoction supplied the finishing touch. Raising the ball in his hand, he growled, "Do not make me zap you!" and the cult members began to move nervously toward the doors while Ares laughed gleefully at the sight of Ixidor trying to back away on his knees. Then, at Xena's discreet signal, he lobbed the ball into a corner where Gabrielle set off a small explosive device, and the stampede that followed was a lot of fun to watch.

It felt good to be feared again, though there was also a quick tug of sadness at the thought that it was all faked, that his powers were gone; holding the glowing ball, he had had a vivid, aching memory, not so much in his mind as in his flesh and bone, of what it was like to have a real fireball form in his palm, born effortlessly from the power coursing under his skin. But then Xena came up to him, smiling warmly, and held his hands and said, "You did great." She looked like she wanted to kiss him -- in fact, she looked like she wanted to pull him into a back room and have her way with him, except that the annoying blonde was already trudging up behind them. They made up for it, though, that night at the inn.

Their next task turned up unexpectedly while they were passing through a village where half a dozen kids had been stupid enough to get themselves abducted by some slave traders (who were smart enough to have the protection of a corrupt magistrate). This time there was real fighting involved. Apart from the thrill of fighting at her side, doing anything at her side, there was a curious moment when they brought the kids back to the village and watched the parents sweep them up in tearful hugs, and Ares caught himself getting an embarrassingly pleasant feeling at the thought that he'd had a hand in making this possible. It occurred to him that Xena must have felt like this too, and he was sharing in her life just like he had wanted. Once, when he was still a god, he had told her that he was willing to fight beside her, to champion the common folk he had never really seen as much more than fodder for his wars. He wasn't even sure he had truly meant it then, but maybe there was something to be said for all this up-with-people stuff.

He was sure of one thing: however he had imagined his life with Xena back then, he hadn't expected Gabrielle to be in the picture -- at least not quite so much, and not in that way. Having to put up with her was bad enough; he actually had to play nice and make sure she was willing to put up with him. When they rode together, he would hang back once in a while to let her have her quality time with Xena -- though, truthfully, that was far better than being subjected to the bard's deep thoughts about the colors of the sky or the inner lives of flowers. (Unfortunately, if Xena hadn't gotten tired of this crap in six years, it was unlikely that she would now.) He had to reconcile himself to never waking up next to Xena, to acting as if they were no more than traveling companions when the blonde was around. Despite the need to keep Gabrielle reasonably happy, he hoped she had a vivid imagination; he certainly got a kick out of the look on her face the morning after he and Xena broke the bed at one of those dingy inns.

The problem was, he had a vivid imagination, too. Given the amount of time he had spent around the Amazons in the old days, sleeping with women who also had female lovers was nothing new, and could make for a nice diversion. But being jealous of a woman ... that was different, and damn disconcerting. Not that he had any reason to doubt his ability to please Xena -- but obviously, being in bed with Gabrielle gave her something that he couldn't, and that knowledge gnawed at him far too often for his comfort. Once, he had a dream in which the two women made love to each other in complete abandon as he lay watching them, mysteriously unable to move, horrified and aroused in equal measure; it was even worse than the recurring nightmare which had him waking up at a campsite or an inn to find that they had dumped him, vanished without a trace. A few times, too, his brooding about what Xena felt in her girlfriend's arms led him to imagine what it was like to caress Gabrielle's small lithe form, and his body's reaction to these thoughts left him annoyed at himself and at her; surely, he wouldn't touch the blonde harpy if he were stranded with her on a desert island.

Occasionally, it occurred to Ares that he, the God of War, should have had more pride than to accept this ridiculous setup -- that he should tell Xena to choose between him and Gabrielle, that if she chose as he glumly suspected she would, he should leave, start a new life overseas ... maybe even try to get his godhood back. He didn't think about Olympus nearly as often as he had in the early days, but he did think about it, and he knew that a part of him still believed he would return there, someday. Then, before this thought could solidify into anything like resolve, his mind would fill with memories: Xena smiling at him when he brought her blackberries one morning, and kissing the scratches he'd gotten on his hands picking them from the thorny bushes; Xena shuddering in his arms with her eyes closed and her mouth open; Xena looking at him when he fought Gascar; Xena tugging playfully at his ear and telling him to sit still while she cut his hair. It was all worth it; he couldn't walk away from her, from them, from the fact that there was a them.

It wasn't easy; even without Gabrielle, there was plenty to haunt them. One evening when they were having dinner at a nearly empty inn, a young woman entered with a pretty child in tow, a girl no more than six summers old with shoulder-length brown locks and huge hazel eyes with long dark eyelashes; as they came up to the grey-haired innkeeper, the young woman said, "Hi, Mom" and the girl squealed, "Grandma!", and the innkeeper hugged them with exclamations of joy. Xena's spoon clanked on the table. Ares glanced at her and saw the quiet heartbreak in her face before it turned distant and blank; she looked, as mortals said, as if she'd just seen a ghost. In the next instant, he knew that she had: the ghost of the daughter whose childhood she had missed, the ghost of the mother she had lost while sleeping in an ice cave for twenty-five years ... the cave where he had buried her after she'd faked her death to fool the gods. Their eyes met; her lips tightened and twisted slightly, and he thought he saw a mute reproach in her stare.

Perhaps it was a good thing that Gabrielle came back to the table just then and he had to hold his tongue, because otherwise he might have blurted out, "Dammit, you made me watch you die! If you had only trusted me enough to let me in on your plan..." And Xena would have told him -- as he reflected moments later, when the hot rush of anger had worn off -- that she had little cause to trust him back then, and plenty of cause to think that if she took him into her confidence, he'd just use it to manipulate her. She could have reminded him of other things, too; for instance, that once he had tried to make her kill her mother in a scheme to force her into his service. The ghosts were there to stay.

A couple of nights later, at a different inn in a different village, in the drowsy warmth of their embrace after making love, he thought of that moment -- of the doe-eyed little girl, of the grief and loss in Xena's face. "Xena," he whispered into her soft hair, and when she responded with a contented "Hmm?" he said, "Let's have a child."

In an instant, her body went rigid; disentangling herself from his arms, she moved away to the edge of the bed. "You're crazy," she said, her voice crisp and flat. Ares wondered if she meant "You're crazy to think that I would bring a child into this mess," or "You're crazy to think that I would do this to Gabrielle," or "You're crazy to think that I would have a baby with a man who once threatened my daughter's life if I didn't bear him a child," or all of the above. At least she didn't say that the thought of it sickened her, the way she did once. They lay silently for a while, and he felt cold and miserable between the damp sheets. Then Xena muttered, "I'd better get going," and slipped out of bed.

When the door closed behind her, Ares slammed his fist into the wall, wincing in pain. He tossed and turned for at least an hour, and finally, when the patch of sky in the tiny window was turning from black to grey, he did something that was absolutely forbidden by their unspoken agreement: he went to her room. Luckily there were no locks on the doors. Xena sat up abruptly. "It's me," he muttered before any sharp objects could fly in his direction, and she hissed, "Ares, you fool -- what are you doing?" He came up and knelt by the bed. "What?" she asked, a little less harshly, and he swallowed and said, "I love you."

She sighed -- "Ares..." -- and put her arms around him, rocking back and forth a little as he rested his head in her lap. "I know you do," she whispered, "I know. I..." He held his breath, wondering if she was going to say it. She took his face in her hands, lifted his mouth up to hers and kissed him, and said, "It's okay."

In a few moments she gently told him to go; he slunk back to his room and managed to sleep a little. The next morning when he came down for breakfast, Xena was alone at the table. Ares stopped and looked at her, anxiety surging again, tightening into a coil in his chest. Then she reached out to take his hand, and her smile made him dizzy with happiness. He sat next to her, breathing in the light tangy scent of the herbs she used in her bath; she picked up a piece of honey-dipped flat bread from her plate and slipped it in his mouth, and he licked her fingers and they both shivered. They talked about nothing in particular. She told him they were heading to a nearby village to help resolve a dispute with a landowner over water rights; "I bet you'll put me to work digging ditches," he said, and she teased him about how great he would look digging a ditch -- and then her laugh broke off as if she'd been slapped, and she let go of his hand. He didn't have to turn and look to know what was wrong. Blondie's timing was still impeccable.

He tried not to think about how long this setup could go on, or how it would end. For the time being he was sharing Xena's life, and sometimes her bed. It would have to do.

Maybe she would come tonight.

It had started raining outside, the water dripping, pounding on the roof, sloshing in the trees. There was a noise in the hallway -- a soft thump, a creak... something that could be footsteps. Ares lifted his head, straining to make out the sounds over the patter of the rain.

* ~ * ~ *

The footsteps came closer; not one but two people, one stomping heavily, the other shuffling. "This way, Sir," said the innkeeper's wheedling voice. A door opened with a fretful squeak. Apparently a late arrival, some tired traveler coming in from the rain. The innkeeper said something else and a male voice replied to her, muffled by the distance. Something thudded on the floor, then the door slammed shut, and the innkeeper trudged back down the hallway.

Xena took her hand off the door handle, went back to her bed and sat down with a sigh.

She had been about to walk out of the room when she heard the steps. She didn't really care if the innkeeper or the new guest had seen her tiptoeing through the hallway in her shift, or if she got lewd stares and winks in the morning; a steely glare was usually enough to fix that. It was just that she felt too much like a teenage girl sneaking out at night to meet her boyfriend. And that was strange, because she didn't feel very young ... she felt worn out.

She hadn't planned for it to happen this way. The first night they camped out, lying in her bedroll under the chilly white moon, she told herself that she had to do right by Gabrielle. Whatever Gabrielle had in mind when she told her to go to Ares, it certainly wasn't "Let's have Ares join us so you can take turns sleeping with both of us." Even to think about it was absurd.

Gabrielle lay about four paces to her left, and Ares on her right a little further away, and she might as well have been stuck on some deserted rock in the middle of an ocean. She needed Gabrielle so badly, needed to fold herself around Gabrielle, to caress her until they both forgot the hurt, to see her eyes smile. She tried not to think of anything else, but the memories came anyway -- the tender, eager, almost disbelieving look in Ares' face when they first made love, the quiver in his voice when he whispered her name, how it had felt to rest her head on his chest and rub her cheek on the fuzzy hair that covered it.

She wondered if it would ever happen again -- knowing that the answer should have been a firm no.

The memories returned when she and Gabrielle lay on the grassy island in the lake after making love. She drew a fingertip across Gabrielle's skin, glittery with water and sweat, tracing the outline of Gabrielle's breast and the curve of her hip, and found herself thinking about how Ares would look with his hair wet and tiny droplets of water sparkling on his body. Xena squeezed her eyes shut, nearly gritting her teeth in frustration. Gabrielle reached up to plant small kisses on her jaw, trailing toward her mouth and finally brushing against it; the soft flutter of Gabrielle's tongue between her lips brought Xena back to the present, to how good it was to hold Gabrielle in her arms. Gently, she kissed her back and slid a hand down her body, listening to her trembling sighs. She couldn't bear the thought of losing Gabrielle, yet again. So much of their life together had been haunted by loss: their first night, when they were sure they were saying good-bye forever; their bittersweet reunion after Gabrielle came back from seemingly certain death, when the pure joy of their love was tainted by Xena's conviction that the only way to save Gabrielle was to separate from her forever -- or else her vision of being crucified together would come true.

Xena shook her head slightly; she didn't want to dwell on doom and loss. A happier memory came to her, from just a few days before they heard about the bounty on Ares: how Gabrielle had made a new kind of dumplings and she'd tasted one and pretended to wince, only to laugh at Gabrielle's crestfallen look; and how Gabrielle's face had lit up in a still-girlish smile when Xena popped another dumpling in her mouth and grinned to show her appreciation.

She cupped Gabrielle's face and looked in her eyes, and kissed her deeper. It wasn't fair that she should want anyone else.

The sun was golden in the bright grass, and the breeze was mild, and for a brief time she was happy -- until they left the little island and swam toward the shore, and it occurred to Xena that Ares knew exactly why they had left him behind. Back at the campsite, he avoided her eyes and grunted in response to her soft-spoken "Hey." She watched him walk away sullenly to take care of his horse; and in that instant she knew that she couldn't possibly expect Ares to ride with her, fight with her, sleep five paces away from her, and never touch her -- not after what had happened between them -- not when they were traveling in the company of her lover. Even if he went along with it, which was doubtful, she couldn't do it to him... couldn't leave him with so little dignity. Worse, she wasn't sure she could do it to herself.

Ares came back to the camp some time later, when Gabrielle was off gathering firewood and Xena had just finished cleaning the carp she had caught. She threw a furtive glance at him, long enough to notice the little grimace on his face as he sat down. "Are you all right?" she asked, and when he didn't answer she came closer and said, "What's wrong?" He looked up at her, his mouth twitching, and spat out, "My back hurts from riding. And from walking. I haven't exactly got the hang of this whole mortal gig, okay?"

He turned away. Shaking her head, Xena quickly rinsed and wiped her hands, then knelt next to him and said, "Lie down." She almost smiled at the startled look he gave her. "On your stomach," she said. "Take your vest off." As Ares complied, she reminded herself that she wouldn't be touching him for pleasure, hers or his; it was only for pain relief, she had the skill and it would be cruel not to use it. Wiping her still-damp hands on the grass, she straddled him and felt him shudder a little. She kneaded his back slowly, easing the tension in the muscles, pressing her fingertips into his spine and shoulder blades. He groaned and Xena bit down on her lip, getting an all-too-vivid picture in her mind of Ares turning over so that her hands were on his chest and his eyes were on her, wide and cloudy with desire. She pressed harder, and couldn't help laughing and teasing him a bit when he let out an indignant "Ow!" -- and then she heard a noise and raised her head to see Gabrielle coming toward them with a bundle of sticks in her arms. She reminded herself that she wasn't doing anything ... wasn't doing anything wrong. Not yet.

Lying in her bedroll that night, Xena wondered if she had half believed that spending a night with Ares would get him out of her system -- and if Gabrielle had believed it, too. What a stupid expression, she thought; what a stupid thing for people to say. After the other night, he was in her blood more than ever; it was as if they had truly merged with each other and being away from him felt like being torn from a part of oneself, like missing a lost limb and still feeling it all the time.

She knew that Ares wasn't asleep, and that he was as desperate for her as she was for him; just as she knew that he was going to talk to her when Gabrielle went to bathe the next morning. He did it his way, falling back on clever one-liners, getting clumsy and tongue-tied when his emotions got the better of him for a moment -- but it wasn't difficult to figure out what he was trying to tell her: I'll wait for you, but I can't take it much longer.

Xena thought about it that day as they rode on toward Elaea. It wasn't just that she wanted him; it wasn't just that she didn't want him to leave -- she cringed at the thought of using sex as bait to make him stay. She loved him. Trying to hold on to him and to Gabrielle was greedy and unfair; losing either one of them was unbearable.

It was meant to be, Xena told herself. She had always prided herself on making her own fate; but perhaps no one did, man or god, where love was involved. She hadn't chosen to love Gabrielle, she certainly hadn't chosen to love Ares -- she just did.

That evening, they sat at a campsite eating in near-silence, and there was a moment when she found herself staring straight into Ares' eyes, dark in the deepening twilight, filled with a longing so intense that she couldn't look away -- a longing for so much more than her body. She wasn't sure how long they stared at each other like that, but when she shifted her eyes she caught Gabrielle looking at her, and it made her cheeks burn. Gabrielle tilted her head down in an almost imperceptible movement, her face lit up by the campfire's faint crimson glow; when she raised her eyes toward Xena again, it was in a look of quiet agreement. Xena's heart sank. So Gabrielle knew what she was thinking, and accepted it. To her dismay, she wasn't sure if that was a bad or a good thing. She couldn't do this to Gabrielle, she couldn't ... but what would it do to Ares if she pushed him away now, and what would it do to her and Gabrielle? There was no good way out of this.

The night after that, some part of her still wanted to believe that she wasn't doing this on purpose, just letting it happen -- that she was just going for a walk in the woods and Ares just happened to follow her. It was maddening, to be thinking that way. As a kid, Xena had sometimes overheard older girls talk about their boyfriends, in the neighborhood and at Cyrene's tavern; they had a way of making it sound like it was never their fault if they went too far, like they'd gotten carried away, swept off their feet. She had scoffed at that, even then: when she made love with someone, she had decided, it would be because she wanted to, and she would never lie to herself about it. This was no time to start.

In a small clearing, Xena stopped and stood still, her hands clasped on her stomach, her bare foot kicking away at the pine cones and sticks scattered in the grass. The moon peered through the murmuring leaves overhead, and everything was mottled with bluish white: the grass, the darkness of the trees, her own skin. Then the branches rustled at the edge of the clearing, and Ares came out into the moonlight. He walked toward her as she watched and waited. After all this time, she had stopped running.

Then there was no more distance between them, and she lost herself in the heat of his kiss, until Ares pulled back and joked, "This is what you had in mind, right?" -- and it jolted her back into reality, a reality in which everything had consequences and in which there was still time to turn back. Instead, she silenced him with another kiss and pulled him down with her into the dewy grass. But the thought of Gabrielle still nudged its way into her mind a few times -- even when Ares was kissing her stomach and she was trembling and raising her hips toward him in anticipation of more; even when she caressed him with her mouth, thrilling to the taste and feel of his hard yet so tender flesh, to his gasps and groans, Oh Xena oh you make me feel so good; and again when they lay together afterwards and Xena found herself thinking that Gabrielle might have woken up and noticed them gone.

She ran her fingers down his spine and he sighed. "Hey," he said, his breath soft on her neck, his beard tickling her skin, "you know what you can do for me?" "What?" she drawled in a mock-sultry voice, and he said, "Rub my back every day." She chuckled, but part of her wondered if he was asking her to say that they'd be together for good; she couldn't promise him that. "Is that all you want from me?" she teased, sounding more light-hearted than she felt. He nuzzled her and whispered, "Well -- since I have to put up with all this walking and riding -- getting used to it might as well be fun."

Her eyes tingled. Oh, Ares knew how to get to her, even if he wasn't doing it on purpose. By his side, she could help him learn to live as a mortal, help him stay human. She had made him her own; he was her responsibility now. I won't ever let you go. She couldn't say it to him, but she did think it, her lips moving soundlessly, as she hugged him tightly and stroked his hair. This was their real first night, their beginning. She knew that it was also the end of something -- of any chance that things between her and Gabrielle would go back to the way they were before.

Xena couldn't be sure whether Gabrielle was awake when she and Ares returned quietly to the camp; but instinct told her that she was.

As they rode up to the inn in Elaea three nights later, Xena realized that she had been trying not to think about the sleeping arrangements. If she and Gabrielle stayed in the same room, as they always had, she might not get a chance to be with Ares at all; asking for separate rooms felt like slapping Gabrielle in the face. She didn't fully make up her mind until she stood before the counter at the inn. "Two rooms," she said, keeping her eyes on the dour-faced, bored innkeeper. Then Gabrielle spoke, her voice sounding a little strange, as if she hadn't talked in a long time and was out of practice: "Make that three rooms."

In her room that night, as she was removing her armor, it occurred to her that this might have been Gabrielle's way of saying that it was the end for them. She was in a near-panic when she went to Gabrielle's room barefoot, wearing only her leather tunic. Gabrielle opened the door, her face slightly drawn and careworn, her eyes grave; then she gave Xena a plucky little smile as if to say, We'll get through this, and stepped back to let her in. Xena reached out and stroked her cheek, and for the next several hours there was nothing and no one between them.

She waited another night before she went to Ares.

After a while, it seemed almost normal. As far as anyone was concerned, the three of them were friends, companions, comrades-in-arms traveling together, helping those in need and fighting evildoers. Ares adapted to their life and their work surprisingly well. Xena knew, of course, that he had about as much interest in serving the Greater Good as she did in shopping for jewelry and perfume -- that he cared only about fighting at her side, and that if she said one evening, "Hey, let's go out and raid a village just for kicks," he'd cheerfully join her. Still, whatever his reasons, he was doing good things. Xena didn't expect him ever to shed his cynicism, and wasn't even sure she wanted him to; but she still hoped that goodness and nobility might grow on him, that she was giving him a chance to change the way she had. And besides --she quickly brushed past this thought whenever it occurred to her, but there it was -- fighting next to someone who enjoyed fighting felt … good.

Except that nothing was normal. The simplest things that lovers or even friends did -- a hug, a squeeze of a hand, resting one's head on the other's shoulder -- were now off-limits much of the time. Even the privacy of a room at an inn was only so private: she had to wonder how much could be heard through those walls, especially if the rooms were close by. One night, she and Ares tussled playfully on his bed, and she teased him into such a state that he finally flipped her on her hands and knees and rode her in a near-frenzy, and she, for once, let him take charge completely, urging him on with short husky cries, until they collapsed in a heap. Then he moved off her, gently turned her over and hugged her to his sweat-drenched chest while she nestled her head in the crook of his neck -- and at that moment there was a loud peevish creak, and the bed wobbled and sagged and crashed under them as its wooden frame fell apart. Clutching each other, they burst out laughing; Ares whispered, "Did the earth move for you too?" and they laughed again, until it occurred to Xena that the next day she'd have to make some arrangement with the innkeeper to cover the damage -- and that Gabrielle, who must have heard the crash anyway, would inevitably know about it.

One morning, Xena woke up at the campsite, slowly opened her eyes, squinting at the searing sunlight, and realized that Ares and Gabrielle were gone. Fear jabbed into her chest, snatching her breath away: They had both gotten fed up and left her. She sat up abruptly and whirled around. Ares' horse, Dragon, was still there, but there was no sign of Clio. As Xena took a deep breath, trying to steady her lurching heart, the shrubbery at the edge of the clearing rustled and Ares came out. "Where's Gabrielle?" she blurted out, her voice a little hoarse. He shrugged, "Off by the brook, watering the horse with the fancy name," and then came up to her and added with a grin, "Here, your breakfast in bed." Only then, she noticed the clay pot in his hands; it was filled with blackberries. She didn't know whether she wanted to laugh, or to cry, or to kiss him, especially when she noticed the cuts and scratches on his berry-stained hands. The former God of War, battling the brambles to pick berries for her. She smiled and took the pot from his hands, and brought his hand to her mouth, pressing her lips to the hot scraped skin. A minute later Gabrielle came back with Clio and muttered a flat "Good morning." Life went on.

That first awful stab of fear stayed with her, and gave her a couple of troubling dreams. Another time, Xena dreamed that Gabrielle and Ares were caressing her at the same time, kissing her neck, stroking her breasts and legs, making her weak with pleasure -- until she woke up and sat in her bedroll gasping for breath, glancing about her wildly in harsh gray light of dawn. They were both asleep.

Often, she missed the old times when it was just her and Gabrielle. What was unnerving was that once in a while, she also caught herself wondering what life with Ares might have been like if ... no, not if Gabrielle hadn't been there at all, but if she and Gabrielle had remained only friends. She never allowed herself to dwell on this long enough to actually picture it -- not only because to do so would have felt like a final betrayal of Gabrielle but also because she didn't like to ponder the what-ifs; there were too many of those in her life.

Over dinner at an inn one evening, Xena watched as the grey-haired innkeeper, still beautiful despite the fine wrinkles on her face, greeted her daughter and granddaughter, and it struck her that it should have been her and little Eve, coming to see her mother at the inn in Amphipolis. She didn't even know what her daughter had looked like at that age. She sensed Ares' eyes on her and looked at him. It occurred to her that if she'd only let him in on her and Gabrielle's plan to convince the gods they were dead, everything would have been different: no ice cave, no twenty-five year gap in her life. With a twinge of guilt, she remembered the horrified look on Ares' face as she slumped in his arms after drinking the fake poison. What a twisted joke it all was: She had missed her daughter's childhood and her mother's old age, Eve had grown up to be the murderous Livia and now carried a burden of guilt too much like her own, Joxer was dead, Gabrielle had lost her parents --. all because she had been determined not to give in to Ares ... and now, here they were.

Xena saw Ares' face twitch a little, and wondered if he was thinking the same thing. But there was no point in questioning her choices, really. She could have never given in to that Ares, the arrogant, seductive War God who had loved her in his own way, to be sure -- far more truly and deeply than she had suspected -- but who had wanted to bend her to his will, to win her love as one would win a battle, through force and manipulation. She must have gone mad, she thought, to ask herself if she had been wrong to resist him; if anything, she had far better reasons to ask if she'd been too quick to forget the past, to believe that Ares had really changed, even now that he was mortal and humbled.

She turned again. The woman was now talking to her mother now while the child was prancing around, twirling and tapping her feet. Then, as if sensing Xena's stare, she stopped for a moment and gazed at her gravely with those huge eyes before resuming her little dance. It occurred to Xena suddenly that it wasn't too late to get it right; now, she had another chance. She closed her eyes and saw Ares cradling a baby in his arms, its tiny hand wrapped around his finger, and herself standing next to him stroking the soft fuzz on its head, and Gabrielle... In the same instant, she pushed it out of her mind; she didn't even want to start thinking about all the reasons it was -- impossible.

A couple of nights later in bed with Ares, she wasn't thinking about anything as she lay half-slumbering in the gentle heat of his body, her breasts tingling from the touch of the hair on his chest, when his whisper brushed her skin and she heard him say, "Let's have a child..." Instantly alert, Xena felt ice-cold with terror, as if he somehow had the power to give her these thoughts the way he had given her passionate dreams about him once, as a god; but the chill melted away in a surge of aching tenderness -- toward him, toward this child that could never be. Before it could flood her completely, she moved away from him and said, "You're crazy." They lay like two strangers forced to share a bed and trying to keep as much distance between them as possible, and she was glad that it was too dark for them to see each other's faces. The memory came to her of a day long ago, when she was being hunted by three temple armies intent on killing her baby; Ares told her he'd make it stop if she accepted his bargain, and his deep smooth voice in her ear was captivating and insistent: Give me a child. She wondered how she could have put it all behind her -- why, even now, she longed to hold him again.

After a while she got up and said she had to go. Later, when it was almost dawn, Ares came to her room; "I love you," he said, kneeling by her bedside, and that hopeless tenderness washed over her again. She held him and kissed him, and told him it was okay, knowing that nothing was really okay and probably wouldn't be.

She didn't like to think about the way it was likely to end: she would have to do right by Gabrielle and leave Ares behind somewhere and break his heart one more time. Just like he said to her in the tavern that night: Chewed it up and spat it out. Maybe she could still come back and see him after that. If he'd have her.

Or else he'd regain his godhood. And then -- what? Would he go back to being his old self, the way he had after his first brief experience of being mortal, losing his humanity in the intoxicating rush of power? Would he use her own emotions against her, use the vulnerabilities she had let him see in his next scheme or game? Would there be anything left of --

Xena took a deep breath and rubbed her forehead. Just a few hours left until daybreak, and she had yet to get any sleep.

She could go to bed, or --

She got up, went to the small window and pushed the shutters open, resting her hands on the wet windowsill. The night smelled of grass and damp wood; in the darkness, her eyes could just make out the clumps of the trees, the outlines of the houses and the stables. A gust of wind sprayed her face and arms with a thin mist of cold droplets, but the rain was already tapering off. She wiped her face and looked up at the pitch-black sky.

There was still time.

CHAPTER 5

As she unharnessed Argo, Gabrielle looked out at the blazing stillness of the river; Xena stood hip-deep in the water waiting for unsuspecting fish, her silhouette black on gold. The splashing of water, mingled with the murmur of leaves and the buzz of cicadas from the woods, added to the evening's quiet. This would be a good place to camp until they moved on to Megara.

"You're taking care of the horses, right?"

Jostled out of her contemplation, Gabrielle turned to Ares. She must have looked as nasty as she felt, enough for him to raise his hands in a defensive gesture.

"What, what? I'm off to gather firewood."

"Fine," she muttered, watching as he threw off his vest and headed into the woods. That was Ares all over -- to assume that just because she was taking care of Argo she was also going to take care of Dragon (that stupid name!). Maybe, under other circumstances, it wouldn't have been an unreasonable assumption -- but.... Mechanically brushing Argo's warm flanks, Gabrielle wondered if there was any chance Ares would stay in Megara. Why not? He'd be much better off in a big city than wandering the countryside. She pursed her lips bitterly. Because he's sleeping with Xena, that's why not.

Dragon tossed his head and snorted in displeasure when Gabrielle began to undo his harness.

"Easy, boy," she said, trying not to show her irritation. Dragon displayed his by stamping his foot a couple of times, barely missing her toes.

"Need a hand?"

Xena was striding out on the riverbank in her tunic, holding up three trout, rivulets of water sparkling on her strong graceful legs.

"I'll be fine."

"Look, you could clean the fish and I could -- "

"I said I'll be fine."

After brushing down Dragon, Gabrielle watered the horses and led them back to the edge of clearing where they could be left to graze. She snapped off Argo's bridle and was turning toward Clio when Dragon swung his tail and whipped it across her face.

It didn't hurt much, but it took her by surprise; Gabrielle stumbled and landed hard on her behind. Dragon snorted again and gave a short, gleeful neigh. She opened her eyes, spitting out strands of horse hair, and found herself looking at Ares, who was standing there with a bundle of sticks in his arms and -- was that a smirk? That son of a --

"Are you all right?" Xena called out.

"Fine." Gabrielle was taken aback by the shrillness of her own voice. She was not losing her temper over this. She scrambled to her feet, glared at Ares and stomped off toward Xena, who was almost finished gutting the trout.

"There, all done," Xena said brightly, shaking off her hands. "I can make the fire -- "

"No, you get some rest. I'll take care of it."

She couldn't resist sneaking a look at Ares. He had taken off Dragon's bridle and was patting the horse's muzzle.

"All right." Xena got up, her eyes shifting furtively from Gabrielle to Ares and back. "I think I'll go for a swim before it gets dark." Obviously wanting some time to herself.

"Have fun."

Gabrielle watched as Xena strode toward the water's edge, pulled off her tunic and waded in. She sighed and set about kindling the fire.

Ares came up and stretched out nearby, propping himself on an elbow. Gabrielle drove a spit through a fish and gave him a sideways glance. He was chewing on a blade of grass, gazing in the direction of the river where Xena splashed in the distance, hardly bigger than a dot on the glittering water.

She was about to skewer the second trout when she threw it down, turned toward Ares and blurted out, "How long do you plan to hang around with us?"

He jerked his head up, and she saw a flash of apprehension in his face before the mask of nonchalant amusement slipped into place.

"Don't tell me you don't enjoy my company anymore."

"Cut it out." Her voice shook slightly; she wasn't sure if she couldn't stop now, or didn't want to. "I'm serious. How much longer are you planning to hang around?"

"Who knows." Ares sat up. "Mortal life is short. One minute you're here and then" -- he snapped his fingers -- "you're gone." He glanced thoughtfully at his hands and then looked up at the gold-tinted clouds.

"You were supposed to travel with us for a few days until we found you a safe place."

"I guess we just haven't found the right place yet."

The knot of rage that had been building up inside her grew, pressing at her chest and her throat.

"Dammit, Ares! I want you to leave her alone."

Ares gave her a long stare. She had nothing to lose now; neither, it occurred to her, did he.

"Sure," he said. "The moment she wants me to."

That was too much.

"You know something?" Her voice was dripping venom, and she knew it. "All I have to do is say the word, and she'll kick you out."

His lips twitched and he swallowed convulsively; she'd gotten to him this time. A part of her -- the foolish, sappy part -- almost felt sorry for him, but Gabrielle quickly slapped it down.

"Then why don't you?" he snapped, momentarily leaving her speechless.

"Maybe I want to give you a chance," she said at last. "You could walk away with some dignity." She felt her cheeks flush, and wondered if he could tell she was lying.

Ares bit his lip and lowered his eyes. When he looked up again, his expression was defiant and sarcastic.

"You're not sure, are you?"

"Not sure of what?"

"Not sure she'll kick me out if you tell her."

"Xena loves me," she said fiercely. "We're everything to each other. She doesn't need you. What can you give her that I can't?"

She watched with horror as a deliberate lewd grin spread across his face.

"Why, Gabrielle -- didn't your mother ever tell you about the difference between boys and -- "

"Stop it!" Gabrielle hissed. "Don't you even -- " She heard him chuckle, and noticed that she was ripping out clumps of grass.

"She doesn't need you," she said again.

"Maybe she does." Even without looking, she could tell that this time he was serious. "Maybe I'm the only one who accepts her completely, just as she is."

"What are you talking about? I accept her -- there was a time when I didn't -- but now -- "

"Do you really? What if I told you that one time, back in the old days, when she captured an enemy who had really pissed her off, she ripped off his balls and stuffed them down his throat until he choked to death?"

Gabrielle fought back the surge of nausea; she could feel herself turning a ghastly green.

"She didn't..."

He chuckled again. "As a matter of fact, no. Not that I know of." He sounded almost regretful, though she was not sure that it wasn't an act. "I've seen it done, mind you. Some of the Amazons -- "

"All right, spare me the details," she interrupted. He was trying to rattle her, and it was working. Shuddering inwardly, she wondered if Amazons really did such things.

"Anyway -- you should have seen the look on your face just now."

"What look?"

"Well, let's just say -- it wasn't an -- " he raised his voice -- "oh, I love everything about Xena kind of look."

"And you would have loved it if she had done that, wouldn't you."

"Would I..." He trailed off, looking into the distance. "I'd never judge her."

Gabrielle was silent for a moment. She had to think about this, to find the answer -- not just for Ares but for herself.

Finally, she said, "Maybe if I hadn't been willing to judge her sometimes, she wouldn't have stayed on her true path."

"Her true path," he repeatedly slowly, as if trying out a foreign language. "Oh yeah -- redeeming herself for her evil past." Once again, his voice went up to a mocking falsetto. "'Oh, I killed so many people -- the pain, the pain...'"

"So that's your idea of love. Making fun of -- "

" -- her guilt trip? Ever think that maybe it would be good for her if someone made fun of it once in a while? No, of course not. You're supposed to be her guiding light." He gave her a crooked grin. "You don't think your body count is getting a little too high for the part?"

The chill went straight through her, settling in the pit of her stomach. Gabrielle remembered what she had said to Xena in Africa, when the nomads wanted to put her to death for killing that boy: You once prayed never to see the light go out in me. I just don't think there's much of that left in here. It frightened her to think that Ares understood her well enough to know just where to hit. But she wasn't giving in that easily.

"I don't think you want to start comparing body counts," Gabrielle said quietly.

"Who, me? I'm not claiming to be anyone's guiding light."

"That's right -- you were the one trying to lure her back to the darkness all those years. To destroy everything she'd become." She had another thought. "What makes you think you deserve to be with her, Ares? After all the things you've done to her -- just because you did one unselfish thing in your whole existence..."

She expected him to argue that the one unselfish thing he had done was big enough to count for as many points as a mortal lifetime of good deeds; maybe even (she felt faint at the thought) to say something about the ways in which she herself had hurt Xena.

He got up and stared down at her. The orange sunset behind him made him seem even taller and darker than he was.

"No, I don't deserve her," he said gravely. "But as long as she wants to be with me..." He shrugged and bent down to pick up his vest, then looked at her again. "I belong here as much as you do."

"I was here first."

"Don't be so sure about that," he said, shrugging into his vest. "Remember, I knew her when you were still playing with your dollies in sunny Potadeia."

That was true, Gabrielle thought dizzily; she knew next to nothing about Xena's history with Ares.

"You know, I was wrong about you," she said. "I thought you were almost a decent human being now. But you're still a bastard."

"I'm crushed." For a moment, she could have almost forgotten that he was mortal; the cold nastiness of his smirk was all Ares, God of War. "If there was one thing I wanted out of my mortal life, it was to gain your approval. Oh well -- can't win 'em all."

He walked past her and headed toward the woods, adding without turning his head, "Don't worry, I'll be back for dinner."

Gabrielle jumped to her feet.

"Ares!"

This time, he did turn.

"One of these days, you'll push me too far!"

"I look forward to that." Ares cocked his head, his eyes sliding over her. "Think you can kick my ass now that I'm mortal?"

"You sure you want to find out?"

"There you go, trying to solve your problems with violence." He clicked his tongue in mock disapproval. "See what I mean about that guiding-light thing?"

Gabrielle fought the impulse to scream and hurl herself at him. She sat down in the grass and glanced at her fists, then slowly unclenched them. Numbly, she watched as Ares walked away toward the trees.

* ~ * ~ *

When he was sure she couldn't see or hear him, Ares gave a frustrated yell and punched a tree. It hurt, of course.

He'd done it; he'd allowed Blondie to goad him into being nasty to her, and now it was an all-out war between them -- a war in which he was unlikely to fare very well. For all his posturing, he suspected that the little bitch was right; if it came down to a choice between him and her, he didn't stand a chance. Stupid, stupid, stupid... He wanted to bang his head on the tree but glanced at his bloodied hand and thought better of it. He sucked on his knuckles and walked on.

In the dusk, the woods were almost dark, with only the occasional patch of bright green where the sunlight touched the faded treetops. Ares walked along the narrow, grassy footpath, kicking the stones and sticks that got underfoot, his mind a jumble of anger and vague fear. At least he had kept his outward cool during his spat with Gabrielle, but it had cost him quite an effort, leaving him drained and battered inside. Was that what it took for Xena to maintain her self-control?

It was bad enough that he'd let the blonde get to him; some of the things he had said to her had gotten to him as well. Mortal life is short... He shivered. He had thought of it before, to be sure, but it was only occasionally that he really felt his mortality, and just then, that feeling had hit him at the worst possible time. One minute you're here and the next... He hadn't the slightest idea what had happened to Hades' domain, now that Hades was gone. Maybe the mysterious forces that had given Xena the power to slay gods had also taken over the afterworld. Maybe there was no more afterworld, just a vast gray emptiness where one's spirit floated for eternity -- or nothing at all.

He rubbed his bleeding fingers, as if to prove to himself that he was still alive.

There was something else, too. While taunting Gabrielle with the notion of a gruesome death Xena might have meted out to an enemy in her dark past, he'd had an all-too-vivid memory of watching one of the Amazon queens of old do exactly that, and had barely managed to keep from doubling over or at least squeezing his thighs together. He found himself thinking about it again. Some of his many enemies, no doubt, had very nasty things in store for him if he ever got himself captured. Maybe he would die screaming the way that man had screamed, howling like an animal, nothing human left in his voice.

He picked up a crooked stick and swung it at the branches hanging in his path. Mortals made such a big deal of compassion, yet it was really nothing but another kind of selfishness; you felt for someone else's suffering because you could imagine yourself in the poor bastard's place -- what the hell was so virtuous about that?

Stopping at the edge of a shallow stream, Ares knelt down and splashed water on his face. He wondered if Xena was back from her swim, and if Gabrielle was talking to her. Maybe it was already over. He told himself that he should be thankful for what she had given him. It was more than he deserved; the blonde was probably right about that. Maybe she was right about something else, too: if he walked out on his own instead of waiting to be ditched, he would at least salvage what was left of his pride. Except that, if he left now, he wouldn't really be leaving on his own -- he'd be letting Blondie kick him out and savor her victory. No way. Besides, the thought of losing Xena now hurt far worse than watching her walk away those other times.

Ares picked up the stick again and poked idly at the pebbles at the bottom of the brook. He closed his eyes, his head and his limbs heavy with misery.

There was a faint sound behind him, a swish that was hardly audible over the ripple of the brook and the loud rattle of cicadas.

"Hey, Slick," said a lilting female voice.

With a start, he turned around and stared, his mouth hanging open.

He hadn't seen Aphrodite since the night Xena battled the gods. When it was all over, the Goddess of Love had wandered into the Great Hall of Olympus, looking dazed and sad, and gazed at him and at Xena, Gabrielle and Eve, and at the dead Athena and Artemis on the floor, and finally said, "Maybe I should get you all out of here." She had taken them to a grassy beach somewhere, just as the first blush of dawn was breaking out over the sea, and vanished after a quick good-bye. Back then she had worn black, in mourning for her husband Hephaestus; now she was in her usual pink, except for the sleek black elbow-length gloves she had kept from her widow's weeds. She was smiling.

Ares got up. Even in the half-darkness, which her presence seemed to dispel somewhat, he could see how completely unblemished Aphrodite's skin was, how clear her blue eyes, how perfect her golden hair. There was a lump in his throat. So this was how it felt for a mortal to face a god.

"Sis," he said when he found his voice. "It's been a while."

"Oh, Ar -- I've missed you!" She came up and reached out to stroke his cheek. "You look good. I mean, for a mortal."

Her skin radiated a strange, steady warmth that wasn't quite of this world -- had Xena felt it too, touching him when he was still a god? The thought that his beautiful immortal sister might be checking out the lines on his face and the grey in his hair made him feverish with shame and resentment, and he backed away a little just as she held out her arms for a hug. Then it occurred to him that maybe this wasn't just a social visit. Maybe she was there to offer him his godhood back.

One bite of ambrosia. That would do it. The power would flow through his veins again. Mortal aches and afflictions -- he could feel each and every one of them now, from the hunger that was starting to tug at his insides to the stiffness in his muscles to the still-smarting scrapes on his knuckles -- all of that would be gone in a flash. Literally. Except --

Before he had a chance to think about what would happen to him and Xena, Aphrodite's voice cut into his musings.

"Hey, if you're thinking about ambrosia -- I'm sorry -- I'd give it to you in a heartbeat if it was up to me, but..." She shrugged and pouted a little. "Apollo and the others, they're still pretty pissed off at you, and you know how they are -- "

"That's all right," he said brusquely. "I don't want it. I'm fine, Sis." He wouldn't have taken it anyway. Certainly not.

Her face brightened in a delighted smile.

"Of course you are! You've got a thing going with the Warrior Babe. Well, it's about time, Bro!" She pinched his cheeks, ignoring his scowl. "That's, like, the best news I've had in ages! It's just so -- perfect!" She sighed contentedly at the darkening sky. "I'm so happy for you two lovebirds..."

Ares stared at her, chilled by a suspicion even more sickening than having his face scrutinized for traces of mortality.

"Wait a minute." He gripped Aphrodite's wrist hard enough to hurt had she been mortal. "Did you -- did you do something?"

"What are you talking about?" She frowned prettily.

"Did you do something -- so she would -- "

"Oh -- you mean, like zap her with a love bolt so she'd jump your bones?" Aphrodite giggled. "As if! Trust me, kiddo, she didn't need any divine intervention. Don't worry, it's the real thing. I know it when I see it -- give the Love Goddess some credit, will ya?"

Breathing hard, he let go of her wrist. She smoothed her glove and continued, "Of course, she loves her little bard too -- that kind of messes things up, doesn't it? I adore love triangles -- the drama... the excitement... the passions... ooh!" She squealed a little, then gave him a teasing nudge. "Now don't you let me down -- Cupie and I have a bet going about which one of you she'll end up -- "

"Dammit." He grabbed her shoulders this time, nearly choking. "This isn't one of your little games. It's my life."

"Hey, take it easy!" Aphrodite wriggled free, an affronted look on her face. "I'm on your side here -- my bet's on you. I mean, I'm awfully fond of Gabrielle and all, but you're my big bro, right?" She smiled again, a picture of dimpled perfection. He could push her down in the brook, but it wouldn't do any good; she'd just get up, shake herself with a tinkling laugh, and dry off in the blink of an eye.

"I want you to be happy, Ar. You know I care about you. Come here." She hugged him and pressed her impossibly smooth lips to his cheek. After a moment's hesitation, he put his arms around his sister rather awkwardly. There was really no point in getting mad at her.

"Awww ... it's good to see you again, Bro. And like I said -- it's majorly cool that you and the Warrior Babe are together."

If we still are, he thought gloomily.

"Good to see you too, Sis." Ares thought of asking how things were back on Olympus, but there was no point in that, either. He patted her silky hair. "I gotta go back."

"Have a great time, stud. I know you will."

Aphrodite held his hands for a moment, then scrunched up her face sympathetically and said, "Ooh.. look at that." She ran her palm over his scraped knuckles. Ares felt the warmth seep deliciously from her skin into his; in an instant the blood and the scratches were gone, and the pain too. So easy.

"Thanks, Sis." He squeezed her hands, hoping she wouldn't notice how wretched he was. She didn't.

"So long!" she sang out, stepping back. She blew him a kiss and was gone, just like that, in a dazzle of golden sparks.

Ares stood still for a while, watching the spot where she vanished. Then he began to walk back to the camp.

* ~ * ~ *

It was just a routine fight against a bunch of thugs who had waylaid an unlucky couple of travelers in a marshy part of the forest. In a few minutes, four of the bandits were down and two more were fleeing into the woods, with Xena in pursuit. The frightened travelers muttered quick thanks and scampered away as well.

Gabrielle was putting away her sword when she heard the noise. She turned around. One of the men, who had seemed just as dead as his pals, had sprung back to life and charged Ares. The two of them were wrestling now, panting and grunting, the man trying to grip Ares' throat, the former god trying to reach his dagger.

She stood still, watching.

The bandit managed to land a punch that sent Ares staggering backward, then picked up a sword and rushed at Gabrielle. She was ready for him with her sais, the twin daggers clanging against the metal of the blade, and it was over almost immediately.

She looked at Ares. He had lost his footing and stumbled into the swamp, where he was now more than knee-deep in the greenish muck, and sinking deeper as he struggled to pull out his legs.

"Gabrielle?" he said with fake nonchalance. "I could use a hand."

She went over and got a large coil of rope from Clio's saddlebag, then came up to the very edge of solid ground and stopped, no more than two paces from him.

"Funny, isn't it, Ares. I'm the only thing standing between you and the bottom of this swamp. And you're the only thing standing between me and the woman I love."

"Very funny." Underneath the bravado, she could hear the nervous note creeping into his voice.

"Don't you have a good one-liner for the occasion?"

"Dammit, throw me the rope," he said through clenched teeth.

"Is that the best you can do? I'm disappointed."

Ares was panting, his face drenched in sweat, his eyes wide with terror. He made another futile effort to free himself.

"You know, Ares," she said, "I told you that one of these days you were going to push me too far. You should have listened."

"You're just trying to scare me."

"I think it's working." She chuckled and twirled the end of the rope.

"You crazy little bitch," he snarled. "I saved your life!"

She wrinkled her nose. "That's right. What did you say it was? Oh yeah -- an afterthought. Well, Ares... remember how you told me I'd always be a goody-two-shoes? If I was, I'd probably be grateful. I must've gotten over that."

There was a pause, punctuated only by Ares' ragged breaths. Then he threw his head back and yelled, "Xeeeenaaaaa!"

Some startled birds flew up from the trees.

"I guess she's still out chasing the bad guys," Gabrielle said placidly.

The swamp had him up to his waist now. His lips were trembling, tears running down his face and mingling with rivulets of sweat.

"Gabrielle," he said in a rasping whisper. "Please. Please. I don't want to die like this."

She sighed in exasperation.

"Oh come on, Ares. Go out with a little dignity. You know, being the former God of War and all."

With a grunt, Ares lunged forward and somehow managed to grab the end of a long, vine-like branch of a fallen tree. Gabrielle watched as he started to pull himself up. She shook her head.

"Ares, Ares, Ares. Why do you have to make everything so difficult?" She looked around, picked up his sword and walked toward the tree. "I guess I'll have to give you a hand after all."

She tugged at the branch to make sure she had the right one and raised the sword.

"Is that what you're into now? Cold-blooded murder?"

She gave a high-pitched giggle.

"Now that's funny, Ares. Coming from you, I mean. And what you did to Eli -- that was what, a fair fight?"

Biting her lip in concentration, she hacked at the branch.

"No." He could barely force the word out of his throat. "No."

Gabrielle paused and tilted her head.

"Hmm. Maybe you do deserve a chance. Tell you what, let's try a little quiz."

"Huh?"

"I'm going to recite some lines of poetry and you tell me who wrote it. You get it wrong ‑- I take a whack at the branch. You get it right -- I let you pull yourself up a little. You make a move without my permission and -- " She made a chopping motion.

"You're nuts."

She giggled again.

"Sticks and stones ... What, you don't want to play? Then I can start right now." She took a swing.

"Okay ... okay!" he gasped. "Go ahead."

"All right then. Let's see." She pressed a finger to her forehead. "How about ..." She recited in a dramatic sing-song:

"There is one race of men, one race of gods.
Although a common Mother gave us life,
Our lot is most unequal: Man is nothing,
And the Gods will dwell forever in their home
In the eternal skies as strong as brass.

Well?"

For a moment, rage flashed in his eyes, before fear set in again.

"I'm counting to five, Ares." She was poised to strike. "One -- two -- "

He licked his lips.

"Sophocles?"

Thwack.

"Wrong, Ares. The correct answer is" -- she smiled brightly -- "Pindar. Pindar of Thebes. Great stuff, isn't it? Well ... let's try something easier, okay?

The whole village weeps at your funeral pyre,
O brave warrior,
For in the chaos and horror of battle --"

"Anacreon," he broke in hastily. "Yeah. Anacreon."

"Huh-huh-huh." She wagged a finger. "I haven't finished yet.

For in the chaos and horror of battle,
Blood-loving Ares has never slaughtered a more fearless youth.

You're right -- that was Anacreon. Go on, pull yourself up. A little." She watched as he moved his hands, one and then the other, and made a desperate effort to free himself from the mire. "That's enough. Okay, let's see... ooh -- here's a really good one.

Some women may be timorous, and fearful
To even look at battle or cold steel;
But when the offense is to their marriage bed,
No mind can be more murderous than theirs."

"Stop it." He was wheezing, his voice barely audible.

She shook her head. "Sorry, Ares, I've never even heard of a poet named Stopit. For your information (thwack), that was Euripides."

The branch was annoyingly strong but it wasn't going to hold out much longer, and Ares' thrashing around wasn't helping him, either; he was submerged almost to his armpits. His hands were probably raw and bleeding by now. Just another whack or two and --

A hand came down on her shoulder and Xena's voice said, "Gabrielle?"

* ~ * ~ *

She blinked hard. "Uh, I -- Xena -- uh -- I -- what?"

"Whoa." Xena shook her head, spraying her with a fine mist of water. "Look at the fish."

Gabrielle rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath. It was almost dark now, the clouds in the west a deep purplish gray. The campfire was flickering low.

"I'm sorry, I was just -- I was thinking and..." Gabrielle trailed off and watched as Xena added more wood to the fire and removed the skewers with the charred remains of the trout. Just as she wondered if Ares was back, she heard the grass rustle, and Xena said, "Where were you?"

"Just walking around," Ares said casually and came closer. "Hey, is that what's left of dinner?"

"Yeah," Xena said.

"Oh great."

Gabrielle raised her eyes. There they were, standing shoulder to shoulder in the reddish glow of the campfire, inspecting her handiwork, united in their disapproval.

"That's right, it's all my fault," she snapped miserably.

"Hey, hey -- it's no big deal," Xena said. "We have bread and we've still got some of that salted beef. That will do just fine." She put a comforting hand on Gabrielle's arm. "Don't worry about it, okay?"

As they sat around the campfire, Gabrielle listlessly crumpled the stale bread, feeling faintly sick. She had meant only to vent her frustration by imagining a scene in which she could have Ares at her mercy and toy with him for a while -- and then, somehow, her fantasy self had turned into a monster, a person who would not only murder a rival in cold blood but torment him with a maniacal glee that was chillingly reminiscent of ... Callisto. Of course she could have never done anything like this in real life; still, she it gave her goose bumps to think that an inner Callisto lurked somewhere in the depths of her imagination. Gabrielle bit into the leathery beef. She didn't want to think about it anymore.

"Hey Ares," she said. "Do you know any poetry?"

"Mph -- what?" He swallowed a mouthful and gave her a bewildered look. "Poetry? Why?"

"Just curious," she said. "There's this one poem that starts, 'There is one race of men, one race of gods,/Although a common Mother gave us life,/Our lot is -- '"

With a start, she realized that on the last words, his voice had joined hers. She stopped as he continued in an oddly hollow voice, staring at the dying flames:

" -- most unequal: Man is nothing,
And the gods will dwell forever in their home
In the eternal skies as strong as brass."

His voice shook a bit.

"Yet we can bear some likeness to immortals
By the greatness of our mind or of our heart,
Though we know not, wandering by day and night,
What destination Fate has set for us."

There was a long silence after that, and the low crackling of the fire, and the river's lulling burble, and the harsh cry of a night-bird far away. The look in Ares' eyes was distant and unreadable in the fading firelight; then he met Gabrielle's stare, and his expression turned hard and bitter, his mouth tightening. Still in shock from the former War God's cultural literacy, she felt irritated at him and vaguely disgusted with herself. It was nothing like her nightmarish daydream, to be sure; but she had deliberately hurt him, and that was bad enough.

Ares threw down the rest of his bread and beef and got up.

"I'm going to sleep."

As he walked away and began to unroll his blankets, Xena turned to Gabrielle and shook her head. Taking his side, Gabrielle thought resignedly. But there was no anger or reproach in Xena's eyes, only sorrow, and something like a mute apology.

* ~ * ~ *

Xena couldn't sleep for a while. She lay on her back with her eyes open, staring at the black star-dotted sky. It was very dark, the ruby-tinged moon a mere sliver that soon slipped away under a cloud. Nearby, she could hear Ares' sharp, slightly irregular breaths; he was obviously pretending to be asleep, only he hadn't been mortal long enough to do it convincingly. A dull ache was tugging on her heart. That stupid poem had really gotten to him … she wished she could crawl over and hold him close, or at least hold his hand… only she could tell that Gabrielle wasn't sleeping either, quietly as she lay in her bedroll. Gabrielle had been so edgy the whole evening… and no wonder. What am I doing to Gabrielle… that thought, always present somewhere in her mind, surfaced for a moment and made her shut her eyes. If only there was some way to end it without destroying them all.

Eventually, her thoughts became a jumble of shifting words and images, dissolving into each other and into a thick haze, and she began to lose herself in restless sleep. Then she was on that hill by the Amazon village where she said good-bye to Ares after his run-in with the Furies, and she was touching his battered face and his deep dark eyes were smiling at her, as gentle as the farewell glow of the sun; he was safe from the Furies now, but her gladness was bittersweet because she knew she had to leave him. They were talking and smiling at each other, their hands clasped, and all of a sudden he was shaking her by the shoulder and saying in an insistent whisper, "Xena -- Xena!"

With a start, she opened her eyes in the darkness and felt the grip of a hand on her shoulder.

"Xena," Gabrielle whispered. "Wake up."

"Umm -- what?"

"We need to talk."

She sat up, fully awake. That was it; she knew it. She felt no pain, not yet.

Stealthily, Xena followed Gabrielle away from the campsite, under the cover of the trees. They stopped and hugged and stood still, Gabrielle's head nestled on Xena's breast, Xena's cheek resting on Gabrielle's warm hair. Then Gabrielle's shoulders shuddered slightly, and she pulled back and said in a half-whisper, "Xena -- I can't -- "

Xena cut her off. "I have to send him away."

Gabrielle exhaled sharply and slumped in her arms.

"I can't go on like this anymore. I just -- "

"I'm sorry." She kissed the top of Gabrielle's head. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. This is so wrong -- I should have never -- "

"Shh." Gabrielle lifted up her face and quickly pressed her lips to Xena's. "You don't need to explain ... I'm not blaming you. I just want things to go back --." She gave a small sigh that came out almost as a whimper. "I know it's not going to be the way it was -- but I want it to be just the two of us together..."

"I know... I know. It's going to be all right."

"He can stay in Megara. He'll be okay. Xena, I know you -- "

"Gabrielle." Xena took Gabrielle's face in her hands, touching the dampness of her cheeks. "You always come first for me, remember that. No matter what. Forever." For a fleeting, delirious instant, she wondered if it was still true.

"I'll tell him tomorrow," she said abruptly.

They held each other, and Xena wanted to shut out everything except the warmth of Gabrielle's body in her arms, the feel and smell of her hair, Gabrielle's soft breath on her neck. She felt numb inside, except for a vague tenderness that hurt somewhere deep in her chest. She wondered if she should be relieved, now that she no longer had to make a decision. Somehow, they'd survive it -- they all would.

Their lips met again, and Xena felt Gabrielle's breaths grow husky as the kiss lingered. She stroked Gabrielle's hair and pulled away.

"Come on," she said, and they headed back to camp.

* ~ * ~ *

When the glare of the sun and the clanking of the cooking pot woke her up, Gabrielle had barely slept. Her body felt stiff, her skin crawling with nervous tension as they ate their modest breakfast and packed their things away in nearly complete silence. Ares looked glum and haggard; Xena's face was rigidly blank, but there were faint darkish circles under her eyes. It would be over soon, Gabrielle told herself, but the thought brought her no comfort.

She would feel better once it was over, she thought as she tugged irritably at the straps of Clio's harness. Clio shook her mane and looked at her sideways, then turned and nuzzled her shoulder. Gabrielle gave the mare a quick, mechanical pat on the neck and fastened the saddlebags. Would it really be over, or would Xena be looking for any excuse to visit Megara? Maybe that wouldn't be so bad. Maybe she could deal with Xena visiting Ares occasionally, as long as she had her day-to-day life with Xena back.

They rode away from the camp, taking a shortcut through the forest to reach the road to Megara. The trees were alive in the gentle breeze, the sunlight a scattering of silver on the leaves and the ground; but on this morning, the sights and smells and sounds of the woods did little to soothe Gabrielle's nerves as she rode behind Xena on the narrow path and felt Ares' eyes on her back. She wondered if he knew what was coming.

She didn't wish him ill; of course she didn't. He'd be all right in Megara. In a bustling city like that, anybody could blend in -- even a former god. Blend in? She snorted. One might as well expect him to get a job in an orphanage.

The edge of the forest was near, patches of bright blue sky already peeking through the trees. Ares being Ares, Gabrielle thought, he was liable to find some kind of trouble -- with no Xena to bail him out. What if some day, Xena returned to Megara and ...

Memory yanked her back to the awful night when they stood by two funeral pyres, and Xena said quietly, the wet streaks on her face glistening in the reflection of the flames, "My son is dead because of you." Because of me. My lie, my stubborn recklessness. Miraculously, after being nearly destroyed by hate, they had found forgiveness; but would her guilt in Solan's death come back to haunt them if Xena lost someone else she cared about -- because of her? No, that was ridiculous. What were they supposed to do, babysit Ares for the rest of his life? Dying in battle was a risk she and Xena faced all the time; why should it be any different for him? Besides, he had survived just fine without them for nearly a year. He'd manage again.

They rode out into a sun-flooded field. Pale yellow butterflies wove over the tall grass laced with blue wildflowers; the air was filled with the whirr of grasshoppers and the ecstatic trilling of birds. The main road was visible in the distance, with a few toy-like riders and horse-carts going by. In another couple of hours, they'd be entering the city. Gabrielle wondered when Xena was going to tell Ares. Would she wait until they got to Megara? Until she was alone with him?

"Ares."

Xena's voice was quiet and flat, as expressionless as her face. Gabrielle glanced at her -- they were riding side by side now, with Xena in the middle -- and saw her upper lip quiver very slightly; her eyes were lowered and half-veiled, her hands clutching Argo's reins a little tighter than necessary. And then she felt Xena's agony, felt it physically and acutely, as a pang that ripped through her mind and her gut.

"Gabrielle and I were talking..."

Gabrielle closed her eyes for an instant. Then she glanced at Ares; he was staring at Xena, his lips slightly parted, his features sharpened by anxiety.

No, she wasn't going to lose Xena. But, but -- she had told herself before that if she ever put her foot down and told Xena to end it, something precious and irretrievable between them would end too. That hadn't changed. In some way, she was asserting a property right; and true love knew nothing of property rights. Xena had to make her choice freely, not be forced to rip out a piece of her heart. There had to be some other way out.

Xena was saying, "We were thinking that when we get to Megara, you should -- "

Gabrielle cut in. She spoke hurriedly, and it gave her voice a harsh edge.

"We think you should sell off some of your stuff."

Xena whipped around and stared at her in disbelief. Ares' jaw trembled; he took a few deep breaths, then said quietly, "What?"

Already, Gabrielle was cursing her own stupidity. Ares would have laughed his head off at her high-minded musings about love and freedom, and he would have been right -- the bastard.

"Sell some of your jewelry. It's worth a lot of money, you know. If you're going to travel with us, you ought to start paying your way."

"Oh really." He glowered at her. "Well, I have an even better idea. Why don't you take me down to the slave market -- I bet I'd fetch a fair price." He kicked Dragon in the sides with an angry "Yah!" and took off at a gallop, riding toward the road.

Gabrielle lowered her eyes and let out a long breath.

"Gabrielle..."

She looked up. Xena's eyes were shiny, either with agitation or with tears.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Gabrielle twitched her lips, trying to smile. Xena leaned forward, reached out and touched her face, and her smile was so tender, so wistfully luminous that Gabrielle's heart swelled with love and longing. Xena's thumb brushed her cheek, and Gabrielle realized she was crying.

"Xena -- I don't want to force you..."

"But I can't force you to go along with this."

This time, she did smile, shaking her head and taking Xena's hand. "You're not forcing me to do anything. It's my choice. I know we'll work it out." She sighed. "I love you, Xena."

Xena's fingers squeezed hers.

"I love you too."

Gabrielle wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, holding hands, looking into each other's eyes. Then, they rode ahead to catch up with Ares.

CHAPTER 6

"You'll never guess who I met at the scroll market today," Gabrielle said.

Ares eyed her absent-mindedly, taking a sip of wine. They actually served decent wine here at the inn -- well, half-decent. Or maybe he was just in a good mood.

For a moment, in that field on the way to the city, he had really thought that it was over, that Xena was about to tell him to stay in Megara. Now, a day later, he had it all figured out. Gabrielle must have told Xena to dump him; Xena had refused, Blondie had started bitching about how he wasn't paying his way, and to appease her, Xena had agreed to ask him to sell his jewelry. It was so obvious that Xena didn't want to say it; of course it was the blonde's idea. Baiting him with that damn poem, telling him to sell his things ... all part of the same tactic: rub it in his face that he had gone from god to nobody. Clever girl.

He had been tense for the rest of the day after they'd arrived in Megara -- anxious, perplexed, annoyed, even after his anger had mellowed. He and Xena hadn't spoken much, despite some reassuring tender looks from her, and he had been wondering if she'd come to him that night.

Xena kept him waiting for a while; long enough for him to start wondering once again if it was worth it, this half-life with her, this humiliation of having to wait for her favors. He promptly forgot all about it when she showed up. She was still wearing her tunic when she straddled him, and Ares ripped it off her, lifting up his head to press his face between her breasts, reaching down to stroke her. Every sound she made, every incoherent word she breathed sent a jolt of heat through him, but somehow he managed to stay in control, even when she shook and arched on top of him; he held her for a few moments, forcing himself to stay still, and then rolled her over, drawing those intoxicating sounds from her again, kissing her neck as she drew up her knees to let him in deeper, so deep that there may have been a hint of pain in her cries. Finally she bit into his shoulder to muffle her scream, and this time her spasms took him with her. Afterwards, they exchanged quick breathless kisses, pressing still-hungry lips to each other's faces and necks; and then there was more, and when she left him at dawn he was exhausted and happy and completely in love.

Now, sitting in the tavern at the inn, Ares felt his arousal stir again at the memory. Slipping his fingers under his vest, he touched the still-tender mark Xena had left on his shoulder; too bad the purplish bruise was hidden from view, or the little bard would have been in for quite a shock. He watched Xena finish the last of her stuffed grape leaves and run her tongue over her lips, and his fist clenched as he imagined licking her fingers and stroking her thigh under her leather skirt. If only they had been alone at the table...

But there was no point in dwelling on the negatives. Things were going well; right now, it looked like he had a pretty good chance of winning Aphrodite's bet for her. Sure, it was still annoying to think that his ditzy sister and her namby-pamby kid were treating his unusual predicament as a horse race for their entertainment, but it didn't rankle nearly as much as before. It was the kind of thing you'd expect from Sis. She could have done something much worse just for fun: for instance, cast a love spell to make him enamored of the blonde, and then, if Xena didn't chakram his brains out, he'd die of embarrassment once he recovered his wits.

"I give up," Xena said with an indulgent smile. "Who did you meet?"

"Virgil. Can you believe it? It turns out he's here in Megara."

"Really."

"Yeah." Gabrielle took a grape leaf from her plate. "He's going with me to the poetry reading."

Oh yeah -- another reason to be in a good mood. Gabrielle was going out after dinner for a reading by some poet at the city library, and he and Xena would have the whole evening to themselves.

"Really," Xena said again. Her look of polite indifference was a little too blank, and Ares wondered if there was something going on that he didn't know about.

"Yeah. And you know something else?" Gabrielle's hand with the grape leaf remained suspended halfway to her mouth. "Virgil has just published his own poem. He was at the scroll market delivering some copies to a vendor. A long, epic poem."

"Did he say anything about how Meg was doing?"

"Yeah ... she's coping. She's opened a new tavern in Athens." She finally put the grape leaf in her mouth and continued, even before she'd swallowed it completely, "The kids are in school... Anyway, Virgil's poem -- it's beautiful." Gabrielle beamed. "I always knew he'd become a real bard, and let me tell you..."

She continued to carry on about Virgil and his poem, and Ares realized one more thing that irritated him about the blonde. Unless she was in a very rotten mood, she yapped like this at every damn meal, only occasionally pausing to eat, and when he was already done with his food and usually still hungry, he had to sit there staring at all the stuff on her plate.

Xena reached over, picked up a grape leaf from Gabrielle's plate and casually stuffed it in her mouth. He wasn't sure why that irked him even more.

He took another sip of wine, put down his goblet with a clank and cut her off in mid-sentence.

"Jerkster's son can write. Who would've guessed."

Gabrielle turned to him abruptly.

"Don't," she said in a choked voice. "Don't you dare talk about Joxer like that."

"Well, excuse me! Somehow, I never noticed that you were so fond of the guy."

Her eyes narrowed to sharp angry slits.

"I may not have always treated Joxer right. And he may not have been much of a warrior. But he was my friend and he was a good man. He was kind and brave and caring and" ‑- her voice trembled, breaking for a moment as her eyelids drooped -- "loyal."

"Wonderful. You should have married him."

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the quick look Xena darted toward him. Damn. That was not a smart thing to say.

"Maybe I should have!"

Gabrielle didn't actually scream, but her words seemed to shatter the tavern's stale murky air and then to linger for a few moments, like a cloud of smoke from an explosion. She looked terrified. Xena's face changed only for an instant; her hand, which had been creeping toward Gabrielle's, froze and then closed a little jerkily around the stem of her goblet. They sat very still, all three, as if trapped with a dangerous beast that could be provoked by a single word or movement. Rescue came in the form of a serving girl who came by and inquired if they wanted sweets, in a tone implying that it would be an insult if they didn't and a hassle if they did.

Somehow, they got through the rest of the meal, barely speaking. Ares wanted to kick himself, and half expected Xena to do it for him. Finally, Gabrielle got up and said, "I have to go."

Xena looked up. "Want me to come with you?"

"Oh, come on, Xena," Gabrielle said with a mirthless little snort. "You don't have to. I know it's not your kind of thing at all. I'm going to change and then I'm leaving."

"Change?" Xena's eyebrow twitched up.

"Yeah, I'm wearing a dress. You know, the blue one. Xena, it's a poetry reading, not a wrestling match."

"All right." Xena drew an arm around her waist, reached up and kissed her cheek. "Have fun."

After Gabrielle had walked away, Ares sat staring into his almost-empty goblet, ridiculously afraid to look at Xena.

"What do you think you're doing?"

She sounded almost stunned, not angry as he expected -- and when he looked up at her, her face was shadowed with fear.

"You're trying to drive us apart, aren't you," she said.

"That's crazy." He caught himself before he could say, She's the one who's trying to drive me away -- sounding like a whiny little boy.

"Well, don't even think about it."

Ares said nothing. She gazed past him, her blue eyes gold-flecked in the reflected light of an oil lamp. Then she spoke again, as if to herself.

"This is wrong..."

Dammit, don't beg. Maybe it was better to end this at once: A quick stab to the heart, instead of dying piece by piece and always hoping for a reprieve.

"I could leave," he said. It didn't come out as firmly as he had wanted, but it would have to do.

Xena's upper lip quivered slightly in response.

He wasn't going to make it that easy for her.

"I'll -- " He choked on his words and paused to swallow, a heavy bitterness filling his mouth. "I'll always love you. But I could leave."

Time stopped, or maybe only his breath did. Finally, she gave a small, almost imperceptible headshake and moved her hand closer to his. Their fingertips touched, and he breathed again. They sat still for a while; then Ares stroked the back of her hand with his fingers, and after a moment she turned her hand, ran her thumb across his palm very gently, and curled it around his thumb.

The heat in his body was spreading again; he moved closer to Xena and brushed his lips against her hair, closing his eyes, savoring the faint herbal scent.

"Not now," she said softly.

Someday this woman would drive him insane.

"There must be some other way to have fun in this town," Ares said. "Want to catch the bull-dancing show at Demeter's temple?"

"Sure. You haven't lived until you've seen half-naked girls leaping over a bull's horns." Xena chuckled, but her eyes were grave. After a pause, she said, "Maybe I should go to the library and join up with Gabrielle and Virgil..."

He stared incredulously. So much for an evening together.

"Why?"

"It's been such a long time since I've seen Virgil." She turned away. "I should go have a chat with him."

Then it hit him: By Tartarus, she was jealous. Was there something -- ? As he recalled, this Virgil was a pretty good-looking guy, though he had only seen him once, right after Joxer died at Livia's hands -- and Ares' memories of that time, the last days of his life as a god, were something of a blur, vague shapes floating in a fog of rage and love and fear. Was Xena worried that Blondie might run off with Virgil? As his sister would have put it -- as if.

"I don't think there's any point in my tagging along. Guess I'll just stay here and ‑- catch up on sleep." He gave Xena a crooked little grin.

She stared at him for a moment, or maybe past him, and then smiled faintly.

"I have a better plan."

He frowned. "I thought you were -- "

"I'm not. That was a bad idea." Xena pushed the chair aside. "Stay here -- I'll be right back."

Not sure what to make of this, Ares watched her disappear. He rose from the table and walked over to the bar, leaning on it. He briefly considered getting another cup of wine but decided against it.

"You lucky son of a bitch."

He flinched and turned to see a scraggly-bearded, pink-faced man seated at the bar, leering at him.

"What?"

"You're doing them both, aren't you." The man winked. "The little blonde and the one with the -- "

Before the man could complete the description, Ares' hand was at his throat, clamped down on his collar. His fist was itching to connect with the idiot's suddenly not-so-pink face, but he was stopped by the thought that Xena might come back to see him fighting, and find out why.

"Watch what you say," he growled.

"Hey!" the barkeep called out. "Is there a problem?"

"Is there?" Ares gave the man's collar a discreet but meaningful jerk.

"Uh... no!" the offender squeaked, making a valiant attempt to shake his head. "No problem at all. I'm -- I'm sorry, okay?"

Ares snorted and let go of his shirt, shoving him back a little to reinforce his point. The man gulped for air.

"Sorry," he mumbled again, rubbing his neck. "I just, you know -- saw that you're traveling in the company of two beautiful women, so I -- "

"Stuff it," Ares grunted.

"So who's the blonde?" the man inquired hopefully.

"She's -- " He had no idea what to say; no one had ever questioned him about their arrangement before. "She's ... my wife's friend." He hadn't meant to elevate himself to the rank of Xena's husband, either -- in fact, even thinking the words "Xena's husband" felt as startling as speaking the words "my wife" -- and wasn't quite sure why he said it. He glanced at his new acquaintance, ready to teach him another lesson about the perils of being nosy if he saw so much as a lewd hint in his expression.

"Hey." Ares turned to see Xena, a sly smile on her face, and barely had time to react when she said "Catch!" and threw his swordbelt and sword at him. Her own sword was strapped to her back.

"What's that for?"

"We're going for a little workout." Her eyebrow arched a little. "If you're up to it."

"Where?" he asked, putting on the belt.

"A training ground -- it's just a short walk from here. Come on."

Ares could feel the fellow's envious stare on the back of his head as he and Xena headed toward the door and she squeezed his shoulder. They stepped outside, into the velvety golden warmth of the evening sun.

"I'm up to it." Ares squinted a little at the sunlight. "As long as you remember that you shouldn't run me through."

She smirked at him. "If you behave."

* ~ * ~ *

"Gabrielle! Over here!"

Gabrielle craned her neck and saw Virgil waving at her from the other side of the crowded hall. She wasn't sure if her heart leaped with joy or sank a little.

She had been thinking about Virgil on her way to the library, and these thoughts had left her feeling confused, guilty, and vaguely agitated.

At first, walking through Megara's busy, dusty streets, she had casually wondered why Xena -- who might enjoy the occasional night at the theater if the play had enough action but was otherwise quite indifferent to all things literary -- had volunteered to accompany her to Sappho's reading. Then she realized that Xena hadn't offered to come along until the mention of Virgil. Was Xena jealous? The very idea made her bump into a bundle-laden donkey, earning her an outraged "Watch where ya going, lady!" from its driver.

It was absurd to think that Xena could be jealous of Virgil ... or was it? Suddenly, Gabrielle found herself pondering her feelings toward him. She had liked him from the moment they met, when she was still grappling with the idea that she had spent twenty-five years on ice, that her friend and hapless admirer Joxer now had a son who looked about the same age as she. Tall and broad-shouldered, Virgil had such an open face, such kind, curious, sparkling eyes, such an infectious boyish smile. And he turned out to be not only an able fighter but an aspiring bard -- someone with whom she had a lot in common Then Joxer was killed, and their shared if not equal grief brought her and Virgil closer as she tried to ease his pain and calm his rage. Once the crisis was over and the dust had settled, their friendship had endured; Virgil had helped rescue her niece from Gurkhan, and had joined her and Xena on a few other adventures. He was a good friend. She suspected that he felt something more for her, the way Joxer had, but she hoped it would never go beyond a mild crush.

There was, however, one memory Gabrielle didn't especially like revisiting. A few months earlier, she and Xena had gone to Rome to take on Caligula, the new emperor whose cruelties were becoming a gruesome legend and in whose dungeons Eve had wound up along with hundreds of other Eli followers. It seemed that stopping him might require Xena's special skills, since rumor had it that the emperor had become a god.

As part of Xena's plan, they had to attend a bacchanalia at the palace. The evening went on and the wine flowed, and the guests shed more and more of their inhibitions, often along with their clothes. In order to blend in and keep drunken and lecherous courtiers at bay, she and Virgil pretended to be together, and they finally ended up embracing on a pile of cushions, he with his shirt off, she in a skimpy green-and-gold silk tunic. Gabrielle felt intensely uneasy, particularly when she realized that her pretend caresses were having a very real effect on Virgil. Meanwhile, Caligula himself made the rounds of the banquet hall, encouraging with ribald remarks the men and women cavorting in various combinations. The emperor stopped close to Gabrielle and Virgil; the show had to go on, and she slid down and ran her tongue over Virgil's nipple. He made a strangled sound in his throat and squeezed her behind through the thin fabric, pressing her closer to him. She felt his hardness against her stomach, and with a shock, she also felt the familiar warmth between her legs. It was the first time since she and Xena had become lovers that somebody else had made her feel that way. Her cheeks on fire, she moved away a little and whispered, "I'm sorry," and Virgil gave her a searching look, then nodded and said quietly, "I'm sorry too."

There was a bit of awkwardness between them in the next few days before their mission was over, with Caligula dead -- his godhood, in the end, had proved to be nothing more than a madman's boast -- and the Elijans freed. A couple of times, Gabrielle noticed Virgil looking at her oddly, as if on the brink of saying something; she considered telling him about herself and Xena but, in the end, did not. They had never made a conscious decision to keep their relationship a secret; it was simply private, too precious to expose to others.

She and Virgil hadn't seen each other since then, until earlier that day at the scroll market. Everything seemed back to normal. They were good friends; that was all.

Or was it? Climbing up the slope of one of Megara's twin hills, toward the ornate building of the city library, Gabrielle wondered for the first time if Virgil could have been something more to her than a friend. What if she had been ... on her own when they met?

When she reached the library's marble steps, Gabrielle stopped abruptly in her tracks, oblivious to the people walking past her and to their puzzled or irritated glances. Was she thinking of having an affair with Virgil to get back at Xena, and trying to justify it to herself? No -- impossible -- absurd. She didn't think such thoughts. Glancing down, she realized that the gilded bracelet she was wearing was the same one she'd had at that bacchanalia in Rome, and a scalding heat spread over her neck and face. She yanked off the bracelet, nearly hurting her wrist, and slipped it into her satchel. How low would she sink next? Flirt with Virgil just to make Xena jealous?

No more of that, she told herself as she walked up the steps. She was going to spend an evening with her good friend. Nothing else.

And there he was now, making his way toward her, his face lit up with that irrepressible grin.

"Gabrielle." They hugged and he kissed her on the cheek. "Great to see you. That's a very pretty dress."

"Thanks."

"You look a little tired. Come on" -- he took her elbow -- "I'll buy you a lemonade to celebrate my new wealth."

"Wealth?"

"Yeah." He grinned again, propelling her toward the refreshments stand by the wall. "Two of my scrolls were sold at the market today."

"Virgil, that's wonderful!"

"So," Virgil said a few moments later as they looked around for a seat, sipping honey-flavored lemonade, "what's up? We didn't have much of a chance to talk before. By the way, I spoke to somebody who ran into you and Xena in Elaea, just over a month ago..."

"Oh yeah -- we were there running a couple of greedy cults out of town. You know how it is -- a Warrior Princess's work is never done ..."

"And neither is a Battling Bard's?" Virgil smiled at her affectionately. "Anyway -- this person said you two were traveling with some man now?"

"A man -- oh, that's not a man. That's Ares," she said, almost breezily. "Remember, I told you he's mortal now -- he gave up his godhood to heal Eve and me -- "

"What do you mean -- 'not a man'?" He gave her a puzzled, slightly amused look.

She felt herself blushing. "Well, he's a man of course" -- she laughed nervously -- "it's just that I'm so used to thinking of him as a god..."

"And he's traveling with you and Xena?"

"Just for a while. Some warlords were after him, trying to settle old scores -- so we thought it would be safer..." She trailed off.

After a pause, Virgil asked, "Well, what about you? Any new scrolls? I'm always looking for them at the vendors' ..."

"It's been a while since I've had anything published."

"That's too bad. You're such a wonderful writer, Gabrielle -- have I ever told you it was reading your scrolls that made me want to be a bard?"

"Only every time we've met."

"Your stories always made me feel like I was really there. And you know something else? It's great how they always have a moral but you don't beat the reader over the head with it... Are you writing anything now?"

She sighed. "Not really."

"Why not?"

After a brief silence, she said, "Maybe I'm just not sure what the moral of the story is anymore."

"What do you mean?" Virgil turned and looked at her, frowning a little. "Gabrielle, is something wrong?"

To her helpless dismay, her eyes were filling with tears.

"Look, there's two empty seats -- let's go over or there won't be any room left to sit."

"Gabrielle." He pressed his fingers to her cheek, gently turning her head toward him. "Talk to me. We're friends, aren't we?"

"Of course we are..." She blinked and managed a lopsided smile. "It's nothing."

"Come on." He steered her toward a side door and out into the hallway.

"What are you doing? They're about to start -- "

"We're going to talk about whatever's troubling you so much."

Virgil looked around and led her into one of the small reading rooms, closing the door behind them. Gabrielle dabbed discreetly at her eyes. She couldn't even begin to tell him...

"Go on." They sat facing each other now, and his hand was on her arm -- gentle, strong, warm. "Please, Gabrielle. You can talk to me. What did you mean about not knowing the moral of the story?"

She couldn't tell him what was going on with her and Xena and Ares. But there was something else, another reason that she often felt she had lost her way, and she could talk to him about that. In fact, she realized, it was all part of the same thing: the price she had to pay for being with the person she loved more than anything in the world.

"Remember I told you that after we left Rome, Xena and I went to Northern Africa?"

"Yeah."

"When we were there -- something awful happened. No, not happened. I did it. I did something awful."

"What?"

"I... I killed someone. An innocent man." Gabrielle shook her head. "A man ... he was just a kid, really."

"Oh, Gabrielle... It was an accident -- "

"Well, it was. But it didn't just happen... Xena and I were caught in a sandstorm, and I saw someone coming up behind her -- he had a thing in his hand, I thought it was a dagger... so I stabbed him. Twice. I killed him, Virgil. And it turned out that the thing in his hand was just a scroll ... and then I pulled off his cloak and -- it was Korah." The tears were coming back.

"You knew him?"

"Yeah... we were guests of his family, Xena and I." She sniffled and chuckled bitterly. "You know, he admired me. He looked up to me as a warrior... he wanted me to teach him."

"Gabrielle, I'm so sorry." Virgil put his arms around her and she let the tears flow, leaning against his chest.

"And I taught him, didn't I." Then she was laughing and crying at the same time, her teeth chattering, her shoulders shaking. "Oh, I taught him all right."

Virgil brought the cup of lemonade to her mouth, made her take a few sips, and held her until she calmed down. She sat up straight, her hands folded in her lap.

"You thought you were defending Xena," he said softly.

"Virgil, I could have stopped him some other way. Knocked him down, tried to disarm him. Instead, I just -- lost it. I thought Xena was in danger and I went straight for the kill. All those years ago, when I left home to go off with her, I wanted to be a warrior. You know what I am now? A killer."

"Every warrior is a killer."

"I thought I could be different. I thought I could fight and still have reverence for life -- still do everything in my power not to take life if there was any other way. Foolish, huh?"

"You've always tried to do the right thing -- you and Xena."

"The right thing." Gabrielle gave another short laugh. "You don't know what happened after I killed Korah."

She told him the rest of the story: how Xena lied to the nomads and tried to blame Korah's death on the Romans who were trying to subjugate the natives in the region; how, after a captured Roman soldier was nearly executed on the spot for the boy's murder, she finally confessed against Xena's wishes, and was herself sentenced to death; how, in order to rescue her, Xena engineered a Roman attack on the nomad tribes. True, Xena also helped the nomads fight back and win the day, partly through sheer luck; still, it went against everything they believed in.

"Gabrielle." Virgil gently took her hands in his. "If Xena was willing to do that, it just shows how much she cares about you."

"For a while out there, I actually wanted to die." She looked down, watching as he stroked her hands. "It was better than to live knowing I killed that poor innocent boy. And sometimes I think -- what about all the other people who died by my hand? How guilty were they, really? Roman soldiers who only fought because they were conscripted, or had families to feed, or thought they were defending their country... temple warriors who fought for their gods just like I fought for my faith... what gave me the right to take their lives?" Gabrielle raised her head, staring into Virgil's kind hazel eyes. "I don't know, Virgil. I don't know anymore. Sometimes I'm really proud of what I've become. Sometimes, I feel like -- I'm losing myself."

"Then maybe it's not for you. Being a warrior, I mean."

"Maybe. But there's nothing I can do about it. I can't travel around with Xena and let her do all the fighting."

Virgil lowered his head for a moment and sighed.

"Then maybe you shouldn't -- "

"No. My path is with Xena."

He gave her a strange look. "Why?"

She gaped at him, suddenly at a loss.

"I don't understand," he said. "I admire Xena. She's a great woman. But you're your own person, with your own path -- you're smart, talented, brave -- "

"It's hard to explain... Virgil, we're connected in such a deep way... sometimes I don't understand it myself. But it's like -- somehow, ours souls sustain each other -- like sunlight and water sustain living things ... Or maybe that's not it. It's like she has half of my soul and I have half of hers..." But did that mean she couldn't have her own path?

"That's great." Virgil sounded a little dubious. "I just hate to see you so unhappy."

"I'm not unhappy," she said quickly.

"Gabrielle." He squeezed her hands and fidgeted. "I know you and Xena have a wonderful friendship, but do you think you'll ever have room in your life for -- a different kind of relationship?"

Her heart was beating wildly.

"Oh Virgil -- I -- I..."

"You don't have to say anything now. There, I got it out. I've been wanting to tell you for a while... Just think about it."

Gabrielle rubbed her still-damp face and smiled as best she could.

"We should go back in -- it's probably already started. Do I look like a total mess?"

"You look beautiful." He gingerly touched her cheek. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

They hugged and held each other for a moment, and he gave her a comforting pat on the back. Then she pulled back a little; they were staring at each other now, their faces so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath. He leaned closer and his lips touched hers.

Gabrielle closed her eyes. Maybe this was right. Maybe, with Virgil, she could have the life she wanted.

She opened her mouth and slipped the tip of her tongue between his lips, and heard his husky sigh.

* ~ * ~ *

Other people went out dancing; this was their dance and their music -- the leaps, the kicks, the thrusts, the blocks, the harsh cries and grunts, the song of blade meeting blade. Xena flipped in the air and landed behind Ares just as he spun to face her and parry her blow.

"Oh you're good," she breathed hoarsely.

"Years of practice..."

The thrust of his sword was only a distraction -- the real move was an attempt to kick her legs out from under her, which she dodged.

"Not as a mortal." This time she managed to plant her foot on his midriff and almost push him back when he grabbed her ankle and yanked it upward, making her lose her balance and land on her backside. Before he could hold her at the point of his sword, she rolled away and was on her feet again in a single leap.

The training ground, an inner courtyard at a combat school, was empty except for a half-dozen teenage students and their teacher, who had stopped their exercises to watch; the lone girl in the group seemed particularly riveted.

"There's more to it than" -- their swords clashed again and Ares raised his voice so that she could hear over him the clang -- "godhood."

He was, in fact, doing better than Xena had expected; his mortal reflexes were now sharpened to the point where he didn't need to rely on god powers to use his moves, and he certainly had the moves. Still, she wondered if she was at the top of her game, in full possession of the single-minded focus that Ares himself had once taught her was so important to a warrior. A tiny part of her was elsewhere, worrying about Gabrielle. Gabrielle and Virgil -- they were good friends, of course. Back at that bacchanalia in Rome, though, Gabrielle had been so flustered, and had glanced so nervously at Virgil... in fact, there had been a certain awkwardness between her and Virgil afterwards... She was barely able to deflect Ares' blow as he moved on her; for a few moments she had his blade pinned down, flashing him a teasing grin, and he creased his eyebrows in concentration and then grinned back at her as he yanked his sword away with a metallic screech.

As they continued to spar, Xena could see that Ares was getting tired. Perhaps he still wasn't quite used to the weaknesses of the mortal body after all; beads of sweat were rolling down his face and neck, and his breathing was hoarse and jerky. Fully focused now, she advanced, forcing him to put all his energy into defensive moves. She wasn't going to spare his feelings; she owed it to him to give him all she had. Finally, spotting a moment when his grip on his sword weakened, she took advantage of it to kick it from his hand. It landed only a few short steps away but definitely out of Ares' reach as he stood panting, her blade pointed at his throat, a mix of admiration and pique in his gaze. Her heart raced with excitement.

"Give up?" she purred.

Still trying to catch his breath, Ares smirked at her. "What are -- your terms?"

"Let's see... Unconditional surrender?"

"Ooh... I like the sound of that."

His eyes fixed on her, he spread out his arms, his palms turned outward, and sank slowly down on his knees. How theatrical -- or was he up to something? Xena lowered her sword, keeping its tip no more than a finger's length from Ares' chest.

"Unconditional surrender," he said huskily and leaned forward, keeping his hands at his sides. Still wary, she pulled the sword back a little.

"So?"

Bending lower, he kissed the tip of her boot. Xena chuckled; she was starting to relax, her body tingling pleasantly. "I didn't ask you to grovel."

"You know me. I don't do anything halfway." His lips traveled up to the skin just above the top of her boot, jolting her with a different kind of excitement. She became aware of the kids watching them across the yard.

"Ares -- " She gasped, then laughed. "Stop it!"

Even as she was saying it, her ankles were gripped as if in a vise and jerked forward violently; the grayish brick wall of the training school lurched before her eyes and gave way to the pale soft blue of the sky. Xena sprawled on the ground, feeling its hard slam to her shoulder blades and the sting of the sand on her bare skin. She let go of the sword long enough for Ares to push it away as he pinned her down.

"I never did say I gave up, did I?" He grinned. Not that he would mind losing to her, but still... He was about to ask if she wanted to reconsider the terms of his surrender when he heard her moan slightly and saw her eyelids flutter and close. She couldn't possibly be hurt -- she had taken far worse spills than that --

"Xena?"

Her head lolled to the side, and Ares felt frightened. He pulled himself up. "Xena," he said again, tapping her cheek with the back of his hand.

In the next instant, he found himself flipped over and pinned down, Xena's knee planted firmly on his chest. He should have seen it coming, of course. She reached for her sword and picked it up.

"Two can play this game," she said with a smug little smile.

She was incredible, smiling like that, her eyes sparkling, cheeks flushed, hair damp with sweat.

"You are -- so good..."

Momentarily lightheaded with desire, Ares wanted to grasp her hips, pull her forward, tug at her undergarment with his teeth. He watched, with an acutely physical sense of loss, as Xena rose to her feet in a sharp, graceful motion. He imagined whisking her off to the Halls of War in a swirl of light, making their clothes vanish, ending their contest the way all their contests were meant to end, with a match in which surrender and victory were the same. Xena held out her hand and helped him up, to a burst of applause from the small but enthusiastic group of (damn them to Tartarus!) spectators.

"Come on," Xena said. "Let's go wash up."

"Wait." He slipped his sword back in the sheath at his belt. "Let's really show them."

Before she had a chance to say anything, he pulled her into a long, slow kiss, and after a moment's hesitation she responded. There was more clapping from the kids, and whooping cheers; Xena tensed in his arms and broke away all too soon. She gave him a wry look and said, once again, "Let's go."

* ~ * ~ *

When Gabrielle and Virgil came out of the reading room, a middle-aged white-clad librarian gave them a stern look, and Gabrielle felt herself blushing so deeply that it undoubtedly confirmed the woman's worst suspicions, if she had any -- even though nothing had actually happened except for a kiss.

A clear, melodious, resonant voice could be heard coming through the open doors of the main hall; the reading had already started. By the time they got back inside, there were no seats left. They tiptoed toward the front of the room and stood by the wall.

The woman on the raised platform was short and slender in her dark blue gown with a touch of gold; she had a slim, spirited face, and a halo of fine brown curls. Gabrielle had read and admired some of Sappho's poetry before, but she had never imagined how much lovelier the verses would be when spoken, almost sung, by the woman nicknamed the Tenth Muse. She sang of the pleasures of the senses, of sun-drenched orchards, of rose-garlanded maidens dancing in the moonlight, of wildflowers and dusky meadows, of friendship and love. She sang of lying in a lonely bed as the night rolled by and the moon and the stars faded.

Gabrielle felt Virgil's warm, firm fingers curl around her own, and her heart fluttered as she remembered their kiss. Could she love Virgil? It was strange to imagine herself with anyone but Xena, to think of lying in someone else's arms, of falling asleep by someone else's side -- of living by someone else's side. But it might be possible. She liked Virgil, cared about him, enjoyed his company. Perhaps she could learn to love him, too.

With a shock, she realized that she was thinking of leaving Xena. Well, why not? Perhaps the shocking part was that she hadn't seriously thought of it before, when it was so clear that she couldn't go on like this. Besides, did Xena still need her? Over the years, she had gotten used to thinking of herself as the keeper of Xena's conscience, the person who helped Xena fight the darkness, the rage, the violence inside her and around her. But maybe Xena was more than capable by now of fighting the darkness on her own. And maybe... With a shudder, Gabrielle remembered her confrontation with Ares, trying not to think of the horrific daydream that followed it. Maybe Ares had been right: the way she was now, she was no longer qualified to be anyone's guiding light. As for love -- well, Ares was a son of a bitch, but he adored Xena, and would happily die for her and live for her; there was no denying that.

Sappho was reciting a long poem about the wedding of the Trojan hero Hector and the noble Andromache, and Gabrielle's mind drifted back to her half-stifled earlier thought: what if she hadn't been with Xena when she met Virgil? In some ways, she and Virgil had much more in common than she and Xena. They shared a passion for literature and the arts, and an interest in spirituality; they were both warrior bards, and could have helped each other reconcile the two. With Virgil, she wouldn't be feeling -- the way she had for some time -- that the bard in her was losing to the warrior and slowly wasting away from neglect. With Virgil ... and this was something she could barely say even to herself: With Virgil, she could have children. Except that there was another thought, even more forbidden, hiding somewhere in a tiny nook in her mind. Virgil would be faithful.

Gabrielle tossed her head slightly and tried to focus on Sappho again, in time to catch the last lines of a fragment about Kleis, her golden-haired daughter. Sappho paused, her amber eyes looking out at the audience and locking for an instant on Gabrielle. Then she began to read again:

"Equal to the gods he is, I think,
When he sits near you, hears that voice
And velvet laugh, which make my heart
Tremble so wildly.

For there are times I look at you,
If only for a moment's span,
The words break silent on my tongue
And leave me speechless.

Thin fire runs beneath my skin,
And thunder pounds against my ears,
Chill sweat breaks out all over me,
My eyes see nothing,

My body shivers head to foot,
And I grow paler than the reeds
Until I'm lost -- and then it seems
That death is near me."

Her last words quivered and died in the stillness of the hall, and Gabrielle became aware that she was trembling. She felt it all, the thin fire under her skin, the pounding in her ears, the chill sweat, the sudden unseeingness of her tear-dimmed eyes. Virgil was speaking to her in a low voice, and it took an effort to break through the fog and hear him.

"Gabrielle -- are you all right?"

She nodded, squeezing his hand. "The poem... it's -- it's ..."

It's about me.

She struggled to breathe.

Gabrielle realized that Virgil was still holding her hand; but now it was stiff and cold in his grasp, like a dead thing, and after a moment he gently let it go.

And why not?

"I'll have wine," she said.

The girl brought her a cup of wine and Gabrielle sipped the dark red liquid, wrinkling her nose at its heady, spicy taste. Its warmth settled into her body, bringing some comfort.

Maybe it was madness to stay. But there was a reason. For there are times I look at you, if only for a moment's span... No one else would ever make her feel this way. Only she wasn't sure anymore if that feeling was a blessing or --

Gabrielle gulped down the rest of the wine so quickly that it made her cough, burning her throat. Then she motioned to the serving girl and asked for more wine.

"Make it a pitcher," she said, her voice a croak.

She pulled the scroll with the poem out of her satchel and unrolled it on her lap.

* ~ * ~ *

Long past midnight, Xena thought as she looked at the blue flecks scattered on the night sky. She walked away from the window and sat down on Gabrielle's bed.

There was still no sign of Gabrielle. Well, Gabrielle and Virgil could stay up all night talking about his epic poem, or the theater, or Eastern religions. But ... Xena imagined Gabrielle looking up at Virgil, her greenish-gray eyes wide and bright, her lips parted, her beautiful face so open, so trusting, so loving. She imagined Gabrielle standing before Virgil and letting her dress crumple in a soft heap at her feet, in a gesture less of seduction than of bold innocence and complete vulnerability, baring all of herself, body and soul. She bit down on her lip.

Of course, she was hardly in a position to object if Gabrielle took a lover on the side ... not when every fiber of her flesh still held the memory of Ares' touch. She hadn't meant to make love to him that evening; but somehow, when they went to bathe in the indoor tub at the school after their sparring, when his arms encircled her from behind and he pressed into her, shuddering wildly, his breath hot and ragged on her neck, she couldn't deny him -- couldn't deny herself. She broke free from his embrace but only to turn around, to smile as the momentary disappointment fled from his face, to touch his half-closed eyes, his lips, his cheek. Maybe it was knowing that she had nearly lost him, or knowing that one of these days she would lose him, but she wanted to hold him, all of him, and never let go.

No, she couldn't begrudge Gabrielle a fling; but Gabrielle wouldn't have a fling. If she went to bed with Virgil, she would leave with him. It was that simple. Xena bolted up and walked around the cramped room, as if she could escape the swelling, surging tide of panic.

She needed Gabrielle's love, but it wasn't just that; she needed Gabrielle's faith in her, needed to see herself through Gabrielle's eyes -- as a good person, as someone who would always strive to do better. How did Gabrielle see her now? She wasn't sure she wanted to know.

A noise in the hallway drew her attention: the sound of shuffling, stumbling feet, and another person's heavy steps. "This way, missy," said a male voice Xena recognized as belonging to the inn's proprietor, and then the door was pushed open. There stood the stocky balding innkeeper, with a disheveled, sleepy Gabrielle leaning on his arm.

"What is going on?"

"Beg pardon, ma'am..." The innkeeper nodded nervously toward Gabrielle. "Your friend ‑- she, uh -- "

Gabrielle lifted her head and stared sullenly at Xena.

"Hello, Xena." Her voice was thick, her face puffy. She let go of the innkeeper's arm and swayed a little.

"... she, uh, fell asleep in the tavern..."

"All right," Xena said coldly and waited for the man to leave. Her initial shock had given way to a familiar pain, so unbearable that it was numbing. I'm destroying Gabrielle. Only now, it was less a fear than a certainty.

Gabrielle flung her satchel into a corner and kicked off one of her shoes. The violent motion made her totter; she would have fallen if Xena hadn't been there to catch her. Her breath reeked of wine fumes.

"Come on." Xena sat her down on the bed, knelt before her and moved to take off the other shoe.

"I can do it," Gabrielle said. She yanked her foot out of Xena's hand and swung it, making the shoe thud dully against the wall.

Still kneeling, her head down, Xena said softly, "I was worried about you."

"Worried -- about -- what?" Gabrielle spoke slowly and carefully, but her voice now had a shrill edge. "That I got run over by a horse? Or that I slept with Virgil?"

Did you? In the tense silence that followed, a voice in Xena's head repeated those two words again and again, until she couldn't stand it anymore.

"Did you?" She paused. "Get run over by a horse, I mean."

Gabrielle made a sound that was something between a giggle and a snort. "Yeah, I did. A big one." She made that sound again, only this time it was a sob.

"I'm sorry," Xena whispered. "I'm sorry."

She took Gabrielle's foot, cradling it gently in her hands, and pressed her lips to it. After a moment she looked up.

"I'm sorry," she said again, her eyes aching.

With a sigh, Gabrielle leaned forward, and they embraced. Still holding back tears, Xena buried her face in Gabrielle's neck, kissing the delicate warm skin, running her hand over Gabrielle's hair. She felt Gabrielle's feverish breath and the wet touch of her mouth -- and then, so suddenly that she nearly cried out, the sharp jolt of pain as Gabrielle bit into her shoulder.

She jerked back. "What are you doing?"

"That's what you want, isn't it?" The smile on Gabrielle's face was a grimace, an almost evil taunt. She squeezed Xena's breasts, twisting them through the leather tunic. "Isn't this what ‑- "

Xena's mouth covered hers before she could finish. No, not Gabrielle... Gabrielle wasn't like this ... Gabrielle bit again, drawing blood, and Xena didn't resist, just held her in a strong tender hug, softly, so softly caressing Gabrielle's lips with her tongue. The thick aftertaste of wine in Gabrielle's mouth reminded her of how Ares got drunk in the tavern that day, after she told him she and Gabrielle were lovers -- how she kissed him and his anger ebbed away -- and she wasn't sure if her heart was hurting for Gabrielle or for Ares, or for both of them.

Gabrielle's hands slackened and slid down to Xena's waist.

"Lie down," Xena said. "Lie down."

Easing her on the bed, she pulled off Gabrielle's dress, then took off her own tunic and put out the lamp. As Xena lay down next to Gabrielle, it occurred to her dimly that making love wasn't going to solve anything -- it was like giving a wounded man a painkiller when the wound was left untreated -- but it was the only thing she could give Gabrielle, and herself, right now. It was best not to think about the fact that only hours earlier she had made love to Ares, or about whether she would ever make love to him again. Gabrielle flinched almost convulsively in her arms and tried to push her on her back, crushing her lips against Xena's; but this time there was something tentative about her violence.

"Shh." Xena pulled back a little, stroking Gabrielle's hair and face, pressing a finger to her lips. "You don't need to do this. It's okay. It's okay."

She caressed Gabrielle's shoulders, kissed her neck, then slid down to kiss her chest, swirling her tongue over each nipple, trailing her lips over the moist underside of each breast. As Gabrielle squirmed and her breathing came faster, turning to little moans, Xena felt her own desire rise and spread through her, and at least for now the pain and doubt and confusion melted away in that warm rush.

Xena pulled up again and brushed her lips against Gabrielle's, and gasped as she felt Gabrielle's hand slide between her thighs.

"Gabrielle... please..."

"Hmm?"

She wished she had kept the light on; she wanted to see Gabrielle's face like this, swept with tenderness and passion.

"Don't ever leave me," she murmured, covering Gabrielle's face with kisses, knowing that she had no right to say it. "Don't ever..."

* ~ * ~ *

Whatever had kept them up late last night, he was not going to starve waiting for them to come down for breakfast.

Dressed in his leathers, with the absence of sword and gauntlets his only concession to leisure time, Ares looked around the crowded tavern once again; seeing no trace of Xena or Gabrielle anywhere, he headed toward one of the tables. The serving wench sashayed up to him with an unusually friendly look on her snub-nosed vacuous face.

"Good morning," she said brightly. "Your, um, friends aren't here?"

"Sleeping late." He smiled back at her. "What do you say we go ahead and start without them?"

The girl giggled. "Okay. We've got honey-flavored wheat porridge, we've got pancakes and we've got baked apples."

"Hm ... not exactly the food of the gods, is it."

"Can't say as we get too many of those 'round here." She giggled again.

When the girl brought his breakfast -- porridge, pancakes and milk -- and set it down on the table, she said, "You know, I almost forgot. One of your friends, the blonde -- she lost something here last night."

"What?"

The girl showed him something she had been holding under her arm. A scroll. Now this could be interesting. Something from Blondie's quill? An opportunity for a little bard-baiting? He still owed her for that stunt with the Pindar poem, not to mention the business about selling off his things.

"Between you and me" -- the girl gave him a conspiratorial smirk -- "she had a few too many last night. Almost a full pitcher of wine. Passed out right at the table. I guess she dropped this thing on the floor."

"What does it say?"

The girl made a face. "Do I look like I can read?"

"All right," Ares said thoughtfully. For some reason, the image of Blondie drinking herself senseless wasn't as vastly amusing as it should have been. "Give me that."

Gulping down a mouthful of somewhat stale porridge (the "honey-flavored" part was very exaggerated), he unfurled the scroll and started reading. Equal to the gods he is ...

When he was finished, he slowly put down the scroll and realized that his other hand was still frozen on the spoon he had dipped into the porridge. Had Blondie actually written this? Ares tried to remember what her handwriting looked like. He really should have read a few of her scrolls.

Whether it was her poem or not, she was not going to be happy once she realized she had lost it. And if she knew it had ended up in his hands... ow. He could lay the trap for her on some quiet evening at the campfire: make a casual remark about finding a scroll, recite the poem, and watch her squirm. Except that something in him recoiled from the thought of making fun of this little piece of verse; besides, if he did try reading it aloud, whatever he had felt while reading it just now might come over him again, and show in his voice. Better to drop a hint -- work some phrase from the poem into everyday conversation and give her a meaningful look to let her know it was no accident. Oh, that would sting.

Ares looked at his trophy again. The words stared back at him, stark and black on the yellowish papyrus. Until I'm lost -- and then it seems that death is near me...

He rolled up the scroll and pushed away his half-eaten breakfast.

A few moments later, still not knowing for sure why he was doing this, he was knocking on Gabrielle's door.

"Xena?" Even with the door between them, he could tell she sounded nervous.

"No. It's me."

There was a short, puzzled pause, and then a brusque, "What do you want?"

"Open up," he said.

Another pause, and then finally -- "Come in."

He pushed the door open. Gabrielle was kneeling on the floor, with an open saddlebag in front of her. Her face worried and pinched, she looked awful, though it was hard to tell how much of it was from the hangover and how much from the coarse gray half-dark of the room.

"Lose something?" He held up the scroll.

She gasped and jumped to her feet.

"What are you ..." She pressed her fingers to her temples and closed her eyes for a moment. "You took -- "

With an animal-like cry, she flung herself at Ares so fast that he didn't have time to say anything or to deflect her blow. She might have been aiming for his face but her punch connected with his neck. The pain was excruciating, and when he tried to breathe the air suddenly wasn't there. As he clutched at his throat, barely aware of the scroll landing on the floor with a soft tap, it occurred to him dimly that maybe Xena had taught her the pinch and this was it.

"I hate you." Her voice was low, vibrating with venom; then, it rose to a shriek. "I hate you!"

He managed to take a small breath, and when she charged him again he grabbed her wrists. They struggled silently, panting and grunting like wrestlers. She kicked at his leg, making him lose his balance; he stumbled forward, and they both went down hard. A short, harsh gasp pushed out of Gabrielle's throat as he landed on top of her.

"Get off me," she hissed, wriggling under him, her face taut with rage.

"You're" -- his voice broke off and he coughed -- "dangerously insane." It still hurt to breathe, let alone talk, and keeping her pinned down took quite an effort.

"I hate you," she said again. He caught the sour smell on her breath.

"Oh, big deal. I hate you too."

"I'll kill you for this." She sounded like she meant every bit of it. "It was mine -- and you took it -- "

"Dammit. You left it in the tavern last night."

Her face collapsed. She stopped struggling and stared at him blankly, her eyes very big, her mouth lax.

"What?"

"You dropped it on the floor in the tavern. I brought it back."

"Oh," she said softly. Her lips trembled and he was afraid she was about to cry. "Oh."

Ares finally managed to steady his breath. At that moment, he became aware that his vest was open and he could feel her breasts pushed up against his chest. He also realized that he was aroused. Gabrielle was still staring at him, only now there was something shocked and vulnerable in her look, and he was almost certain that she was aware of it too.

With a shudder, he rolled off her and sat up. Gabrielle remained sprawled on the floor, her top askew, exposing the pale pink around her left nipple. He turned away, scrambled to his feet and rested his forehead against the fly-specked wall.

"Did you write this?" he said after a while.

She gave a short laugh. "I wish. I'm not that good." She paused and then added, "It's by Sappho. You know -- the reading, last night -- "

"Yeah."

He heard her get up, then sit down heavily on the bed.

"I'd better go," he said.

"The poem -- did you like it?"

He turned around. The wondering, almost-sympathetic look on her face annoyed him more than her earlier violent outburst.

"If you think we're going to have a warm and fuzzy little bonding moment over this -- thing" -- he chuckled -- "then you're really insane."

She lowered her head and said quietly, "Please go."

When his hand was already on the door handle, he heard her murmur almost inaudibly, "Thank you."

He threw the door open and almost collided with Xena.

Oh shit.

They stood silently, staring at each other. He hoped he didn't look too guilty.

Xena's eyes narrowed slowly.

"What are you doing here?"

"I, uh -- Gabrielle lost something at the tavern last night and I brought it back."

"She -- lost something?"

"Just a scroll I was reading," Gabrielle said hastily. "It's nothing important."

Xena stepped inside, looking back and forth from Gabrielle to Ares. Then she shook her head and sighed, the wariness in her face giving way to worry. She held up a scroll which Ares only now noticed in her hand.

"Bad news," she said. "This is from Varia. The Amazons have Eve and they're holding her for trial."

CHAPTER 7

The situation was simple enough. Eve, banned from Amazon lands on pain of death for her crimes as Livia, Champion of Rome, had gone to the Amazons on some kind of mission from the new Roman emperor, and was seized on the orders of Queen Varia. Varia's terse letter, addressed to both Xena and Gabrielle, stated that Eve's trial was being postponed until their arrival -- to let Gabrielle participate in the meeting of the council and cast a vote, and to allow Xena to attend in recognition of the services she had rendered the Amazons.

"There's more." Xena looked up from the scroll and turned to Ares, who stood slouching by the wall. "Varia says that if we know where you are, we should bring you as a witness at Eve's trial."

He stared back at her, still in the same casual posture.

"Okay," he said slowly.

Gabrielle shook her head and ran a hand through her hair. She was still shaken by everything that had happened that morning, and trying to sort out her jumbled but discomfiting memories of the night before. And now, this.

"What was Eve thinking?" she said, mainly because she had to say something.

Xena gave her a hard look.

"Maybe she was thinking that if she risked her life to bring peace to the Amazons, she would make up for some of what she did before." Her eyelids quivered and her voice fell to a near-whisper. "Maybe she was thinking that she deserved to die."

She was silent, and it seemed that the small room, crowded enough with three people in it, was suddenly teeming with ghosts.

Xena rolled up the scroll and looked at Ares again.

"What do you know about this?"

"About what?"

"Eve -- Livia's raids on the Amazons."

Ares lowered his eyes and mumbled something.

"What was that?"

He looked up. "It was my idea. You know that, don't you. You just wanted to make me say it."

Xena didn't seem too shocked, yet her voice was choked when she finally asked, "Why?"

He shrugged. "I thought it would be fun to have Livia go up against the Amazons."

"Fun," Xena said heavily.

Ares uncoiled himself from the wall and stood up straight, scowling.

"I wanted a good fight."

The sudden reminder that she was looking at the God of War made Gabrielle shiver, and then stiffen with resentment.

"You mean, you wanted slaughter," she said.

Ares glared at her as if she were an intruder.

"I didn't think it would be a slaughter." He spoke slowly and deliberately. "Maybe I overestimated your Amazons. I didn't expect them to fold like a bunch of schoolgirls."

Xena's mouth curled downward. For a moment Gabrielle felt absurdly elated. She and Xena, united against Ares. That felt right. That felt ... good.

Ares turned back to Xena. "Look, if you expect me to apologize for what I am..." He stopped for a moment, and some of the cockiness seemed to fade from his face and his voice. "For what I was... What did you expect me to do when you were gone? Take up chicken farming as a hobby?"

"How about stay away from my daughter?"

Ares lowered his head, his shoulders sagging a little. Gabrielle felt disgusted with herself. Xena's daughter, their daughter, was in mortal peril, and she was gloating because Xena was angry at Ares.

"I told you," he said, "I didn't know..."

"Listen," Gabrielle said, a little too loudly, "we have to think about how to get Eve out of -- "

"And if you had known?" Xena cut in.

Ares straightened up again, meeting Xena's stare with a kind of desperate defiance.

"What, you're going to blame me for corrupting your baby? I didn't make her who she was, Xena. How do you think she got my attention? The first time I saw her was when she was leading the Roman troops in Gaul, the day she got that scar on her back. Let me tell you" -- he sneered crookedly -- "it was quite a number she did on those Gauls ... three villages wiped out in one day. And she was just twenty years old then."

It hurt even to look at Xena's face.

"And you just loved it, didn't you," she said, her voice hard and brittle.

"I was the God of War. You told me once that I was right for the job, remember?"

"I suppose you also told my daughter to sell the Amazons she had captured into slavery. All in a day's work, huh?"

"I told her that the Amazons would make excellent gladiators -- that if she brought such fighters back to Rome for the gladiatorial colleges, it would be great for her reputation. But don't blame it all on me, Xena. I wasn't the one who told your little girl how to dispose of damaged goods. That was all her."

"Damaged goods..." Xena's voice was a faint echo of itself.

"Yeah. The ones whose injuries were so bad they wouldn't be any good in the arena."

Stop it, Gabrielle wanted to scream, can't you see you're tearing her apart? But she had the bizarre feeling that they wouldn't hear her, as if she were watching them through an invisible yet solid wall.

"She threw them overboard," Ares spat out. "She was taking them back to Rome by boat, and she gave the orders. They still had their shackles -- "

"All right," Xena said, her voice drained of anger, drained of life. She sat down on the bed next to Gabrielle. After a moment Gabrielle drew an arm around her shoulder, and Xena leaned against her a little. Ares looked confused.

"Xena..." he started, and trailed off.

Finally, Xena sat up.

"Does Varia know about this?" She looked as neutral and businesslike as she sounded.

He shrugged. "How do I know?"

Xena nodded thoughtfully, and then said, "We'll leave today -- if we make good time, it shouldn't take us more than a week to get there." She glanced at Ares. "You should stay here."

"Stay here? What are you talking about?"

"It's for your safety. I know Varia. She's ambitious. She'd like nothing more than to make her reputation by bringing down the God of War." She snorted and shook her head. "Even the former God of War."

"And you think I'm going to turn tail and run?"

"Ares, this isn't about your pride."

"Obviously, you don't think I have any," he shot back. "You can't keep me from going."

"I'm asking you not to go."

"I said I'm going."

Xena gave him a grim look. "Do you want me to promise that I ... we'll come back for you?"

Come back ... Gabrielle felt the words sink in like lead weights.

"You think that's the only reason I want to go? That I'm scared you'll dump me? I told you, I'm not going to hide from Varia."

"Look, can we just stop bickering?" Gabrielle snapped. Listening to this would be bad enough anywhere; here in this small, stuffy room, it was almost unbearable.

"Fine," Xena muttered through clenched teeth. "Do whatever you want. We're leaving right after breakfast."

* ~ * ~ *

Over the next few days, they rode a lot, slept and ate little, and spoke even less.

Several times on that journey, Ares wondered if he was going mad as his emotions plunged him by turns into fire and ice: scalding hot anger, the coldness of the distance between himself and Xena, the feverish chill of the fear that he had lost her.

At first, his anger was directed mostly at Xena. What did she want from him? He had already given up being a god for her; did she expect him to give up being himself as well, to beg forgiveness for being the God of War? He had told her from the start that he didn't know Livia was Eve, had tried to explain himself, and it still wasn't enough. What had he done, really? He had spotted a young woman brave enough, skilled enough, ruthless enough to be his special warrior ‑- took her under his wing and to his bed -- nothing he hadn't done many times before.

Except that sometimes, when he thought about it, it wasn't anger but something else burning inside him. He remembered how Xena looked when he told her those things about Livia, her face unflinching, the way it would be if she were being whipped. There was another time -- another lifetime, it seemed -- when he had seen that look on her face. She stood very still looking at rows of crosses -- her daughter's bloody harvest -- and he taunted her about it, wanting her to hurt as he was hurting, unerringly hitting the spot where it hurt the worst: the fear that she had an evil inside her which she had passed on to her child. She's my daughter, you sick bastard. -- Why do you think it was so easy to turn her?

He had other memories, too, while riding by her side or trying to get comfortable in his bedroll at night: memories of warm smiles and tender looks, of the feather-soft touch of her hands on his face, of her delight in the pleasure they gave each other. Thinking about that made it worse. After all the pain he had caused her, she had given him a chance, and so much else… and he had hurt her again, hurt her so cruelly, for no reason at all, except that her anger frightened him and he struck back.

He had to talk to her, he knew that; only, of course they were never alone. It was bad enough that Gabrielle was always there -- he was used to it -- but a couple of times, he caught her staring at him and blushing, and found himself looking away too quickly. That was the last thing he needed right now, to let her get to him.

Finally, waking up at daybreak one morning, he saw that Xena wasn't in her bedroll; he looked around in the bluish-gray haze of dawn and saw her slipping into her tunic at the edge of the small stream by which they were camping. He got up, stiff and achy all over -- he had fallen asleep in his leathers the night before, exhausted from a full day of riding -- and hobbled toward her. She stood up straight and looked at him, her face rigid.

Ares knelt down, splashed some water on his face and neck and swirled it around in his mouth; it was wretchedly cold but at least it snapped him into full consciousness. He rose and forced himself to look at Xena. He wasn't sure if the chill he felt was from the water or from being near her.

After a few moments she turned away and moved to walk back to the campsite.

"Wait," he said hoarsely.

"What?"

"I -- " he paused to clear his throat. He could barely hear himself speak over the pounding in his ears. "I guess I really messed up, huh?"

Xena stared at him thoughtfully; then, the corners of her mouth curved up a little.

"Is that your way of telling me you're sorry?"

"Uh-huh." He fidgeted, tugging at his vest. "Those things I said -- I -- "

She sighed. "Were they -- true?"

"Yeah … they were."

"Then why should you be sorry," she said flatly. There was no anger in her voice this time, just a dull pain.

"Xena. It wasn't your fault. I'm -- dammit -- " He fumbled for words, and as she watched him, her eyes seemed to soften. "I'm … I'm sorry for -- everything, okay? Sorry about being such a -- "

" -- bastard?"

He glanced at her quickly -- was she angry again? -- and saw that almost-smile coming back.

"Uh … yeah. Look -- I'm doing the best I can here -- okay?"

Xena shook her head, a what am I going to do with you kind of headshake, and then reached out and stroked his cheek. Her hand was cold from the water but her touch still made him feel warm, and he breathed easier. He put his hand over hers, then slowly turned his head, closing his eyes, pressing his face into her slightly damp palm.

"Okay," she whispered.

They stood like this for a while, until she gently pulled her hand back, smoothing his hair, and said again, "Okay...."

His heart skipped a beat and his mouth was dry. Still, he managed to smile, and so did she; at least it was the closest to a smile that he had seen on her face since the morning she had received Varia's message. Then she squeezed his arm and said, "Come on. Let's go gather some firewood."

* ~ * ~ *

As always, the Amazon patrol appeared out of nowhere; or rather, the women who swooped down on the narrow forest path seemed to have been born of the trees themselves, as if the thick dark foliage had woven itself into four slender, muscular shapes.

After an uncomfortably long moment, a brown-haired, olive-skinned woman who looked vaguely familiar said, "Queen Gabrielle," bowing her head. The women lowered their spears.

Gabrielle had stayed ahead of her two companions ever since they had entered Amazon lands. For hours now, they had been riding through these woods, where even the day was dusky and the damp smell of mushrooms hung in the air; the path, overgrown and strewn with skeletal branches, was barely wide enough for a single rider.

"Xena," the woman said with a slight nod, then paused as her eyes lingered on Ares, and finally looked back to Gabrielle. "Greetings, Queen Gabrielle. We'll take you to Varia."

As they moved on at a slow trot, their escorts walking by their side, Gabrielle noticed that one of the Amazons, a curly-headed blonde, was dressed according to the custom of Cyane's tribe, in a long-sleeved, fringed tan shirt decorated with criss-cross strips of brown leather; yet another, a tawny woman with multicolored beads in her braids, didn't look like any Amazon she had seen before. Xena was evidently thinking the same thing, because she asked, "You're from the Northern tribes, aren't you? What are you doing this far south?"

"The tribes have united." The woman paused and added, "Under Varia's leadership."

Gabrielle was shocked and, somehow, stung by the news. Who would have thought Varia had it in her? And why had Varia never bothered to send her word of this? Or maybe it was her own fault, for neglecting the Amazons while drowning in the mess her life had become.

After a while the path widened and the trees become more sparse, letting in the pale sky and the fading sunlight, and then they rode out of the forest and onto the slope of a hill. The Amazon village lay below, its thatched huts surrounded by a vast encampment of tents, wisps of bluish smoke floating up from the bonfires.

As they rode downhill, Gabrielle wondered, wearily and fleetingly, if she might have been better off here.

She looked at Xena, whose calm appearance was belied by the tightness of her jaw, and felt a familiar pang at the thought of what Xena had to be going through. Unable to stop her gaze from drifting over to Ares, she noticed his fingers tapping on the hilt of his sword. In the next instant, she intercepted a glance -- unfriendly if slightly awed -- directed at him by the dark-haired woman who had greeted them. The woman had probably been around when Ares' army attacked the Amazons in his mad quest for ambrosia. Did Varia really, as Xena suspected, have something unpleasant in store for him? Well, it would be nothing he didn't deserve… at least Eve had genuinely repented, while Ares … well, Ares was -- Ares.

Disconcertingly, the memory of that morning when he brought Sappho's scroll back to her surfaced again. She remembered the odd way he looked at her; not with sympathy, maybe, but at least with understanding. Damn. She didn't want his sympathy or understanding, or anything else that would make it harder to dislike him. That was probably why he had brought her the scroll in the first place, to worm his way into her sympathy like the manipulative bastard he'd always been. Not for the first time, she felt herself flushing at the thought that he had read the poem, had guessed what it meant to her. It was as if he'd seen her naked … No. That was one place where she was not going.

They rode through the camp under the curious, somewhat nervous stares of hundreds of women, and then down the main street of the village until they reached the square. Varia, in a feathered ceremonial headdress that made her face look small and almost ratlike, stood waiting for them on a waist-high platform under a wooden painted statue of Artemis, with several other queens at her side. A cluster of young pines rose behind them, their narrow tops gilded by the sunset. The banners of the Amazon tribes, mounted on wooden poles over the platform, billowed gently in the breeze.

"Gabrielle." Varia inclined her head with a respectfully neutral air.

After a moment's hesitation, Gabrielle dismounted, with Xena and Ares following her example, and stepped up toward the platform.

"Varia."

"And Xena. Good to see you again."

"I wish I could say the same." Xena's voice had the cold sharpness of a blade. "I want to see my daughter."

"All in due time."

"Well, that due time better be sooner than later, because I'm not leaving here without her."

Gabrielle felt a dizzy rush of panic.

"Xena…" she whispered, gingerly reaching out to touch Xena's hand. "I know you want to save Eve, but these are our friends -- so let's keep it that way, all right?"

For a moment she wasn't sure Xena had even heard her. Then Xena nodded, never turning her head.

"Livia was banished from our lands under threat of death." Varia's voice rose, her mask of composure slipping momentarily.

"Eve," Gabrielle said. "Her name is Eve."

"Changing her name does not change her crimes."

"Queen Marga already passed judgment on those crimes," Xena retorted.

"And decreed that she would be executed if she ever returned to Amazon lands. She did ‑- with a guard of Roman soldiers, no less."

Xena was about to say something else when one of the queens standing next to Varia, a swarthy woman with almond-shaped eyes and a wide flattened nose, spoke up. "This is an Amazon council, Xena. You have no prerogative to be heard here."

Gabrielle flinched. "Now, wait -- "

"We recognize your right to speak, Queen Gabrielle," said another queen, a statuesque redhead in a kilt.

"Xena is here with me. She has a right to defend her daughter before the council."

"Fine," Varia said. "We're ready for the trial. We'll start…" She glanced at the glowing orange disc floating low over the hills. "… as soon as the sun has set. That should give you time to rest and get ready for your defense. Thanais" -- she nodded toward the brown-haired Amazon who had met them in the woods -- "will show you to your quarters."

"I'll see my daughter first."

"You'll see her at the trial. You do not give the orders here, Xena."

"I'll see her now." Xena's hand went to the chakram on her belt. There were scattered gasps, and some of the Amazons standing by the platform reached for their swords or spears. Gabrielle felt as if she were watching the world crumble around her, helpless to do anything about it.

"Xena… " Imploringly, she grabbed Xena's elbow. "Xena, please, please -- "

Xena took a deep breath and looked down, her fists clenched. Finally, she said, "All right."

Some of the tension lifted tangibly from the crowd, as if it had breathed a huge, inaudible sigh of relief.

"Come with me," Thanais said imperturbably.

Gabrielle was about to turn and follow her when Varia said, "Take him."

By the time Gabrielle realized that she was talking to the Amazons and referring to Ares, the former God of War was already staring incredulously at several swords and spears pointed at his chest.

"You've got to be kidding," he said.

Xena looked at Varia, her eyes narrowing.

"What is this?" Her voice seethed with barely controlled rage.

"Ares will be tried along with Livia for his crimes against the Amazons."

"You said you wanted me to bring him as a witness."

"Oh, he'll be a witness all right."

"Varia…" Xena paused. "This isn't right."

"Our sisters were slaughtered and enslaved; that wasn't right, either." Varia's voice shook on the word "sisters" but then picked up, ringing clear through the square, and Gabrielle heard an approving murmur from the Amazons. "With your talents, Xena, I'm sure you can defend two murderers as well as one."

Ares, whose hand was frozen less than a finger's length away from the hilt of his sword, looked questioningly at Xena. She stood still and straight, her own hands rigid, as if it took a supreme effort to keep them off her weapons. Gabrielle wanted to say something, do something, but it seemed as if the least noise or movement could make the dense, taut silence explode into disaster. Then, with a sigh, Xena shook her head almost imperceptibly. Ares' lips twitched slightly, and he lowered his hand.

Varia looked on, a little smugness creeping into her smile. Her quiet voice broke the silence.

"Take him away."

* ~ * ~ *

Ares was barely able to suppress a shudder as the manacles snapped shut on his wrists. There was something about that sound, about the cold heavy feel of the iron bracelets, that made one aware of one's mortality in a special and very nasty way.

He had to trust Xena, he told himself as he was marched off the square, two women at his sides, three more behind. Humiliating as it was to be taken like this without a fight -- and especially to let the bitches take his sword, dagger and gauntlets ‑- it was the smart thing to do under the circumstances. Xena would have a plan; everything would be all right.

The Amazon on his left clamped her hand on his arm, startling him out of his reflections; without thinking, Ares turned his head and snapped, "Don't touch me," and the woman shrank back, a flicker of apprehension in her eyes. That made him feel a little better.

They walked up to a cabin on the edge of the village, obviously meant to serve as the jail ‑- with not one but two massive grimy bolts on the door and a barred window; the bars must have been intended mainly to make a point, since the window was so tiny that only a very unusual prisoner, say a child or a midget, could have possibly used it to escape. The two guards who sat by the door, their spears rested against the wall, looked up from some board game they were playing and eyed him with a rather disappointing indifference. Then, one of them lifted an eyebrow.

"What, we put him in with her?"

"It's only 'til sundown," said one of the women escorting Ares. "They both go on trial tonight."

The guard nodded, rose to her feet and pushed the bolts aside with a loud grating sound. As he stepped toward the door, Ares realized, with a queasy anxiety, that the "her" they were talking about was Eve. He stopped abruptly.

"What, you need a special invitation?" the guard jeered. The other women laughed, though somewhat uneasily. The thought of being shoved or hauled inside was unpleasant enough to propel him through the door. It shut behind him with a hard clang.

The smell of food that hit Ares' nostrils reminded him that it had been hours since his last meal. A spasm of hunger clutched at his stomach, even though the smell wasn't particularly appetizing and the surroundings even less so; the stale air inside carried, among other odors, the unmistakable whiff of a latrine. The room was bare except for a pallet by one of the walls, and a jug and a couple of dishes next to it.

Then he saw the girl standing by the window, wearing an olive-green top and a long skirt. She seemed thinner than the last time he had seen her, her hair unkempt; when she turned to him, her face looked almost ashen in the shadows.

Looking away would be too cowardly.

He expected to see some shock in her expression, but her eyes remained dull.

"What are you doing here?"

He wasn't sure why her question made him feel such a violent surge of anger; or maybe it was the listless, barely audible voice in which it was asked.

"You know, I could ask you the same question."

She sighed and moved a strand of hair away from her face, then walked to the pallet and sat down, hugging her knees.

"Is Mother here?"

"Yeah," he said, leaning against the wall.

Eve sighed again. "So they're putting us both on trial. Tonight."

"Were you crazy, coming here?"

"The Emperor Claudius was looking for someone to send as a peace envoy to the Amazons," she said in a flat voice, as if reciting a history lesson. "Caligula had threatened them. Claudius wanted them to know that Rome no longer means them any harm."

"And Claudius couldn't find an envoy who hadn't been banned from Amazon lands under pain of death?"

"I volunteered."

He rolled his eyes. "What part of 'come back here and you're dead meat' don't you understand?"

"I'm prepared to die for my crimes."

"Oh. Well, excuse me if I'm not."

Eve sat up, her features suddenly animated.

"You could make peace with it," she said. "If you accepted the God of Love into your heart …"

Surely she wasn't going to start with this crap? That was all he needed ‑- to have his ex-protégée … or whatever … preaching at him. He got a vivid image of Livia in her dazzling armor and blood-red cloak, smiling as she yanked her sword out of some fool unlucky enough to be in its way. At least she wasn't a sniveling twit back then.

"Hey. Did they whack you on the head a little too hard when they got you? This is me, Ares -- does 'God of War' ring any bells? I don't think you want to talk to me about your God."

"His love has room for everyone. Even you."

He had a strong desire to grab those bony shoulders and shake her until her teeth rattled and her brain got unscrambled.

"You know, maybe you got a point there." He continued as she gave him a wary look, "You keep carrying on like this, and I probably won't mind dying too much. Hell, I may beg them to put me out of my misery."

Her shoulders sagging, she turned away with another dramatic sigh. Maybe now she'd shut up and let him get a little rest before this damn trial.

There was no place to sit except on the wooden floor; it was slightly damp and smelled of mold, just like the pockmarked wall he leaned back against, but it would have to do. He stared into the ceiling, trying not to think about Eve, or about food -- or about the trial.

"You can sit here."

Her voice gave him a start.

"Huh?"

"You can have the pallet. You can sit here. Or lie down if you want."

Ares considered the offer, weighing the disadvantage of sitting on the cold hard floor against the disadvantage of sitting in close proximity to Eve. Finally, he got up, walked over to her and sat down. His eyes fell on the dishes next to the pallet, a plate with a large piece of flat bread and a bowl half-full of some kind of stew.

"I'm not going to finish it," she said. "You can have that too if you're hungry."

She was probably just trying to impress him with her newfound spirit of love and forgiveness -- besides, it galled him to know that she had noticed him looking hungrily at her leftovers -- but dammit, it was tempting.

A few moments later he had finished the bread and was cleaning up the last of the stew; actually, slop was a more fitting word, but at least it quelled the pangs in his stomach. The chain of his manacles left him some freedom of movement but, holding the bowl on his knees, he had to crouch over it so that he could lift the spoon up to his mouth. He looked at Eve, her slender profile sharp against the darkening window. It occurred to him that he should probably thank her.

"Are you sleeping with my mother?"

The question nearly made him choke. With some difficulty, he swallowed the lump of stew stuck in his throat and grabbed the jug to wash it down; the abrupt movement caused the chain on his hands to swipe the now-empty clay bowl and sent it crashing to the floor. Eve didn't even flinch at the sound.

"What the hell sort of question is that?" he rasped.

Eve turned to him, and he noticed a strange glitter in her eye, as if a bit of Livia had come back for a moment.

"I think it's a pretty simple one. Are you -- "

"Yeah, yeah, I got you. I just don't see why I should be discussing it with you."

"So you are," she said quietly.

He took another gulp of water.

"It doesn't matter, you know," she said. "Gabrielle will always come first for her."

Damn -- they didn't call her the Bitch of Rome for nothing. Glancing at Eve again, Ares expected to see gloating over a well-aimed hit, but she wasn't even smiling; she stared into the distance, her face full of sadness and longing, though he wasn't sure for what. There was no use trying to figure her out. The girl was nuts.

She shivered and looked at him.

"Did you ever love me?"

Oh shit -- not that too. Love? What love? There had never been any question of love between them, just business. Well, business and pleasure. He'd been a little fond of her in a way, and proud of her as a star pupil -- but --

"You know what?" he said. "I think I'd rather talk about your God."

She snorted. "Cut the crap, Ares." After a long pause, she shook her head. "I know the answer, anyway. I've always come second." She hugged her knees again, burying her face in her stained, tattered skirt.

Then it hit him. It wasn't about him at all, it was about Xena; everything came back to Xena in the end.

"Yeah," he muttered. "I know the feeling."

Ares wasn't sure that she heard him, or that he wanted her to. He leaned back and closed his eyes.

After a while he said, "She'll get us out."

Eve remained silent, and when he opened his eyes she still sat huddled in the same position, her face hidden.

* ~ * ~ *

Gabrielle had wondered why Varia had decided to hold the trial at night -- maybe because the proceedings had a more solemn air, almost like a sacred ceremony, in the wavering torchlight that flooded the main square. She sat on the platform with Varia and the three other queens: Gwyn-Teir, the redhead; Cyane, her namesake's successor, with a kind round face and silvery-blonde tresses; and Kanae, the dark-skinned, flat-nosed woman who had earlier admonished Xena about speaking at an Amazon council.

" … and more than two hundred were taken as slaves," said Varia, who was taking her time reciting the catalogue of Livia's misdeeds. Eve, who had been brought from the jail with Ares, stood below; the shackles on her thin wrists made her look fragile and almost waifish -- too frail to bear the weight of these chains, the weight of these crimes. It was hard to tell from the expression on her haggard face whether she was determined to bear it bravely, or was simply resigned to her fate. Ares didn't seem to be paying much attention to Varia's indictment; his eyes kept wandering about the square and then back to Xena as he mechanically fingered his manacles and poked at the dusty ground with the tip of his boot. Xena stood next to Ares and Eve -- it was unsettling to be separated from her like this, to be above her and not by her side at such a time -- but she wasn't looking at either of them, or at Varia. Her eyes were hooded, her arms folded on her chest. The torchlight gave her hair and her leathers an eerie orange sheen and made the chakram at her belt gleam scarlet.

Gabrielle lowered her head and sighed; she couldn't forget Xena's quietly stricken look when she first saw Eve. At least, she reflected with relief, Varia hadn't mentioned anything about captured Amazons being thrown overboard during the transport, so she probably didn't know about it. Or maybe Ares had made it up. Maybe he was trying to make himself look better, to downplay his role in goading Livia to her evil deeds by inventing a crime she had supposedly committed without his instigation. That would be just like Ares.

"There is not one woman in my tribe," Varia went on, "who has not lost several loved ones in Livia's raid. We've lost mothers, daughters, friends, sisters." She paused, bracing herself. "My own sister, Tura, was cut down by Livia's hand before my eyes…"

So it wasn't just the good of the nation for Varia, it was personal. With a sinking feeling, Gabrielle looked at Eve and saw a grimace of pain cross her face. A gasp ran through the assembled crowd.

"This woman admitted her crimes before, when she was banished by the late Queen Marga. She has admitted them again, when she returned to Amazon lands in violation of Marga's edict. She has confessed that she wanted to capture Amazons to bring to Rome as gladiators, and profit from their blood." Varia looked out at the hushed crowd and, after a moment, resumed. "But Livia didn't act alone. She had the help of her patron god --" her voice rose triumphantly -- "Ares, God of War."

Varia paused again, somewhat longer than required for dramatic effect, and addressed Ares -- who, at the moment, looked tired, disheveled and very un-godlike, with dark circles under his eyes from the swaying shadows.

"Ares. Did you order Livia's raids on the Amazons?"

Ares shrugged. "I gave her the idea."

"You gave her the idea," Varia repeated loudly enough for the crowd to hear, causing murmurs to ripple through the square. "And what did Livia say? Did she object? Was she reluctant?"

A corner of Ares' mouth hitched up, as if he were about to sneer ("Livia? Reluctant? Yeah, right"). Gabrielle tensed. It occurred to her that Ares had a chance to save his own hide by making Eve out to be as blameworthy as possible -- and that Xena's best chance to save Eve was to make Ares look guilty. Poor Xena, having to choose between her daughter and… It would have been so much easier if Ares had been a god, beyond the reach of the Amazons' vengeance; she and Xena could have easily argued that it was all his fault. And lied to bail out Eve?

Eve's voice cut into her jumbled thoughts. "No. I did not object."

Focusing on the trial once again, Gabrielle saw Xena look almost helplessly back and forth from Eve to Ares.

"She didn't," Ares said quietly.

"You were once a patron god of the Amazons. Our foremothers sacrificed to you; some of our greatest queens were your own daughters. Yet you betrayed us. You -- you sent your whore to slaughter and enslave our people!"

"Now, wait just a minute -- " Xena growled.

"Mother -- don't." There was a sudden firmness in Eve's voice. "She didn't say anything I don't deserve."

"Why did you do it?" That was Varia, still addressing Ares. Gabrielle caught herself hoping he wouldn't use the word "fun."

"The Amazons are a nation of warriors. They hadn't had a real war in a long time. I thought it would do them some good."

There was a distinctly hostile rumble in the crowd.

"So when you had us attacked by an army that outnumbered us three to one, you were doing us a favor." Varia's voice was too shrill to be sarcastic.

Xena shot Ares a warning look.

"I believed that -- the Amazons were strong enough to take on Livia."

"Really." Varia glared at him. "But that's not all. A year ago, when you were already mortal, you came here with an army here to attack us -- to destroy our forests, to kill our sisters, for no reason at all. Was that for our own good as well?"

Ares stared back silently, with glum defiance. Gabrielle wasn't sure what would feel worse for him, to be held guilty of those acts or to admit that he, a former god, had been driven to babbling insanity.

"You know very well that Ares wasn't himself then," Xena said. "The Furies had driven him mad."

"So you say." Varia raised her voice again. "Amazons! Both Livia and Ares admit their crimes against our people; all that remains is to determine the proper punishment. But first, the council must vote on their guilt -- even if it isn't really in doubt."

She stepped back, took her seat in the center of the semicircle of queens, and looked at the other members of the council.

"How do you vote?"

Once again, Gabrielle had the dizzying sensation of the world coming apart around her and the broken pieces floating away. Was there any way that she could, in good conscience, vote not guilty?

"Before we start," Cyane said quietly, "Queen Gabrielle, you know what the rules are, don't you?"

For a moment her tongue refused to move. "The -- the rules?"

"If the accused is found guilty, only those council members who voted guilty are allowed to vote on the penalty."

"No," Gabrielle whispered. "No, I didn't know."

Now, she had no choice. That felt better.

"How do you vote?" Varia repeated.

"Guilty," said Gwyn-Teir.

She was echoed by Kanae and Cyane, and then all eyes turned to Gabrielle. She felt Xena's stare as well, and realized that Xena wouldn't know -- at least not immediately -- why she was voting this way. She couldn't resist turning to look at Xena, and then, to her horror, found herself unable to tear her eyes away; and so she and Xena were still staring at each other when she forced herself to say, "Guilty."

Xena's eyes widened, first in anger and then in hurt.

"Guilty." Varia was the last to speak. She rose again and walked toward the edge of the platform. "The judgment is made. By the unanimous vote of the council, Ares and Livia are both guilty as charged."

Xena blinked, as if coming out of a daze, and turned away. Gabrielle was finally able to shift her eyes to Eve, who looked like she wanted only for all this to be over, and to Ares, who was darting worried glances at Xena.

"Xena, you speak in their defense," Varia said. "Can you show us a reason why these two should not be put do death for their crimes?"

"Yes." Xena paused, her hands clasped together. "Yes, I can. Varia -- queens of the Amazon Nation -- you know that my daughter is not who she was when she committed those crimes against you. You want to put Livia to death? Livia is already dead. This is Eve. For the past year, she has dedicated her life to bringing the message of love and peace to people -- she has risked her life to do it. She came here, knowing that she was risking her life, to bring you a message of peace. And Ares… Varia, it was Ares, God of War who sent Livia to attack you. That Ares is just as dead as Livia." Ares flinched and stared down; his manacles jangled slightly as he clenched his fists. "This Ares is -- just a man. Killing them will be revenge, not justice."

Varia laughed harshly. "So that's your defense? They're both dead already? I wish our dead were so dead."

"Kill them!" cried out a voice somewhere in the square, and another low rumble rolled over the crowd. With a satisfied smile, Varia waited for it to die down, and then resumed.

"Xena, you can tell us all you want that they're what they were. They still haven't paid for what they did to our people."

"You think so? Varia, every day, my daughter lives with the knowledge of what she did. That's a high price to pay."

"And Ares? Don't tell me he's consumed with remorse."

Xena lowered her eyes. "Ares will live the rest of his life as a mortal. Think about it, Varia. Imagine what it's like after you've been a god -- to feel pain and hunger and sickness …" Ares shifted his feet and twitched his shoulder, as if a part of him wanted to stop her. "… to have to struggle for survival from day to day…"

"It's how we all live," said Gwyn-Teir.

"So he lost his powers," Varia said. "That doesn't atone for anything he's done."

After a brief silence, Xena said, with an obvious effort, "Ares didn't just lose his powers. He gave them up to -- do a good deed."

The look on Ares' face was one of near-panic, and Gabrielle wondered if he would rather die than have the story of how he became mortal told before an audience.

"What good deed?"

Xena met Ares' frantic, almost pleading stare and turned to Varia again. She sighed.

"He -- he did it to right a wrong he had done. I can't tell you more than that."

Gabrielle saw the queens exchange skeptical glances and realized that she had to speak up.

"It's true," she said. "Xena's telling you the truth."

"Even so," Varia said, "it wasn't to right any wrongs he had done to the Amazons. So maybe he's done something good, and so has Livia, or whatever she calls herself these days. That doesn't bring back any of the people we lost."

"Killing them won't bring back your dead, either," Xena said.

"No, it won't -- but it's just retribution for their deaths. To hear you tell it, Xena, letting these two live is punishment enough. If that were true, would you be trying so hard to keep them alive?"

Xena took a deep breath and looked away, the rigidity of her features softening into a quiet anguish.

"Varia," she said, turning back to the queen, "let me ask you one thing. Is there a single way in which killing Ares and Eve will benefit the Amazon nation?"

"Yes, there is." Varia's voice rang with triumph, as if she'd been waiting for this question all along. "If we punish them to the full extent of our law, it will send a message to anyone else who would lift a sword against the Amazons: harm our own -- and this is how you'll be dealt with." As a new wave of murmurings surged in the square, she went on, "For generations now, we've been a nation in decline, no longer feared, no longer respected. But that will change -- once the entire known world learns that the Amazons brought down the Bitch of Rome and the God of War!"

The rumble exploded into a deafening roar. Xena tried to say something, but even a town crier could not have made himself heard over this noise.

When some semblance of quiet was restored, Varia said, "We'll vote on the sentence."

Gabrielle looked on, feeling as if she were trapped in a nightmare, and the shimmering of the torches was a thick fog that wouldn't let her move. She closed her eyes -- and then, in a burst of light, saw something that should have been in front of her all along.

"Wait," she said, her voice unexpectedly strong.

When she opened her eyes, the four queens were staring at her.

"Well?" Varia said.

"There's something all of you need to know. We have been judging Eve by the laws that apply to outsiders who commit crimes against Amazons -- isn't that right?"

"Of course," said Cyane. "How else should we judge her?"

"As an Amazon," Gabrielle said. "Because she is one."

This was followed by the predictable splash of gasps and cries, and the ripple of whispers as the astonishing news was passed along to those in the back of the crowd. Xena's eyes flashed with hope, while Eve's look of passive acceptance gave way to one of utter horror.

Varia, her face tight, was the first to speak. "What are you talking about?"

"Twenty-six years ago -- when Eve was just a baby -- Xena and I stayed with the Northern Amazons for a while," Gabrielle said. "Cyane, it was during your mother's rule."

"Yes, my mother told me."

"While we were there, Eve was given an Amazon baptism, according to the rites of your tribe. Not only that, but I gave her my own right of caste."

"So now she's an Amazon princess?" Varia jeered. "Do you have any evidence to support this story?"

Gabrielle felt the blood rush to her face. "Are you saying that I'm lying?"

Kanae shook her head. "Queen Gabrielle, I'm sorry if we can't take your word for it -- but we know that you want to save your friend's daughter. Is there anyone other than you and Xena who can confirm this?"

"I can."

Everyone turned toward the speaker, a stocky woman in the colors of Cyane's tribe who stood in the front row of the crowd.

"I was there," the woman said. "I was just a kid myself then, ten years old. But I remember."

After the noise had died down, Varia said angrily, "So what? What does it change? If anything, it makes her crimes worse -- the Amazons she butchered were her own people!"

Eve swayed and would have fallen if Xena hadn't rushed to her side. She leaned on her mother's shoulder and sobbed quietly while Xena stroked her matted hair.

"But the law is different, Varia," Gwyn-Teir said hesitantly. "Amazons have killed other Amazons before. Our law says that the guilty one must be given a chance to make restitution to the tribe -- and only if she refuses can she be punished with death or banishment."

"Restitution? What restitution? She and her army killed hundreds!"

"I know a way." Xena looked up, her hand still resting on Eve's head. "She could bring back the Amazons she enslaved. Eve…" She pulled away and gently lifted Eve's chin, so that her wet face shone softly in the torchlight. "How many Amazons did you sell to the gladiatorial colleges?"

Eve shook her head. "I'm -- I'm not sure" -- she sniffled -- "about two hundred?"

Xena turned to Varia again. "Most of them must still be alive; there aren't many gladiators in Rome who could beat fighters like that. If you let Eve live and claim her place among you, she could lead a mission to Rome -- to bring them back."

After a long pause filled with the hissing of torches and the hum of the crowd, Gwyn-Teir spoke up. "I would agree to that."

"So would I," said Cyane.

"I'm not sure there is forgiveness for what she did," Kanae said thoughtfully. "But if we can free our sisters…"

Varia threw her head back. "We can free our sisters ourselves!"

"Varia," Gabrielle said, "to go up against Rome would be suicide."

Varia gave her a look filled with raw hatred. "So you are all prepared to spare her life?"

The response from the other queens, and from the women who filled the square, was an uncomfortable silence that evidently meant assent.

"Very well then -- there is one more thing you should know. Something that I didn't want to mention unless I had to -- because it was -- too horrible." Before she said another word, Gabrielle knew, hopelessly, what was coming. "One of our sisters who was taken away in Livia's raid made her way back to us. Terpi! Come up here."

As the crowd parted, Gabrielle forced herself to look at Xena. Her face was rigidly impassive again, her mouth frozen in a straight line, her arm stiff around Eve's hunched shoulders. The woman who emerged from the throng, tall with red-tinted brown hair, gave them both a look of undisguised loathing as she passed by. Her right arm hung awkwardly at her side.

"Tell us what you know," Varia said as Terpi mounted the platform and turned to face the Amazons.

"Some of the Amazons Livia had captured," Terpi said, "were injured in the battle. I was one of them; a Roman spear had shattered my arm, just above the elbow. On the ship, when they were taking us to Rome, a physician came to examine the wounded, and to determine which of us would be unfit to fight again." She paused, lowering her head.

"Go on."

"Then, an officer and some soldiers came and took all those who'd been pronounced unfit -- about a dozen of us. They brought us up to the deck and then…"

"What did they do, Terpi?" Varia was clearly making an effort to speak gently, but the anger and impatience in her voice broke through.

"They … " Terpi let out a hoarse sob. "They started throwing the women overboard!"

There was a hush, and then a long gasp from the crowd that turned into a groan.

"You saw this with your own eyes?" asked Gwyn-Teir.

"I saw it. I heard them scream as they hit the water -- still in chains -- "

"Yet you survived," Gwyn-Teir said doubtfully.

"I did." Terpi's gaze hardened into defiance. "I won't hold anything back. I'm alive because an officer who was there decided I was good enough to keep as his whore until the ship got back to Italy. 'Shame to let the sharks have such a nice piece of meat,'" she spat out. "Those were his words. Once we had landed, I managed to escape."

"Was Livia there?" Gwyn-Teir asked. "Do you know that she ordered this?"

Terpi shrugged. "I didn't see her on the deck. But one of the soldiers said, 'We've got orders.' Who else could have ordered it?"

Xena's face never moved, but her eyes sparkled with tears. Eve stood up straight, as if knowing that she was doomed had given her resolve.

Varia spoke up. "Amazon or no Amazon -- there is no forgiveness for this. This wasn't killing in battle; it was brutal cold-blooded murder. The only proper penalty is death."

The other queens nodded.

"Are we ready to vote?" Varia asked.

"Hold on."

At the sound of Ares' voice, Gabrielle looked up with a start.

"She didn't give those orders," Ares said. "I did."

The dreamlike fog thickened around Gabrielle again, and it was through this fog that she heard the cries of the Amazons -- and saw the stunned expression on Xena's face and Eve's look of dismayed confusion, and the hint of a strange smile on Ares' lips as he looked at Xena -- and watched Terpi come down from the platform and spit in Ares' face before disappearing back into the crowd -- and listened as five voices, one of them her own, voted to let Eve stay with the Amazons and lead a mission to Rome to bring back her former captives. Even Varia went along, though her "Yes" had a distinctly sour note.

"As for Ares," Varia said. Xena, who had squeezed Eve in a tight hug, raised her head sharply. "There are two options. Death or banishment."

"Death," said Cyane.

"Death," said Gwyn-Teir.

"Death," said Kanae.

Xena's eyelids flickered at each repetition.

Gabrielle shook her head feebly and muttered, "I -- I abstain."

Varia glanced at her scornfully.

"Death," she said, and then took a step toward the edge of the platform. "Ares, former God of War. You have been tried and sentenced to death for your crimes against the Amazons..."

"Varia." Gabrielle found her voice again. "He -- he confessed of his own free will -- doesn't that deserve some mercy?"

Varia glared at her with exasperation.

"Mercy? All right." She turned back to Ares. "Your death will be quick and painless and ‑- honorable. Tomorrow at noon, you die by beheading."

Ares shook his head, as if he too were trying to wake up from some foggy nightmare.

"Take him back to the jail."

As two Amazons led Ares away, the silence was so complete that every step they made and every clink of his chains seemed to echo through the square. He turned back once to look at Xena.

Varia spoke again. "This is over."

"Not yet," Xena said. "I know Amazon law, Varia. A challenger is allowed to fight you for his life."

The crowd stirred again.

"So who's going to challenge me?" Varia asked.

Wearily, Gabrielle rose; she knew exactly what Xena had in mind, and she really had no choice but to go along.

"I am." She paused. "Xena will fight as my champion."

"No, she won't. She's not an Amazon."

Xena's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean? The first time Gabrielle and I met your tribe, I fought Queen Melosa as Gabrielle's champion for the life of a centaur named Phantes -- "

"That was a long time ago," Varia said. "A lot has changed since then. Under the law, Gabrielle, you either fight yourself or ask another Amazon to be your champion." She snorted. "I doubt you'll find many volunteers. Or else forget the whole thing."

Xena stood very still, obviously pondering her next move. Wind gusted through the square, flapping at the Amazon banners over the platform, making the flaming tongues of the torches lap at the night air.

Gabrielle looked at Xena. The fog had cleared, and now she knew what she had to do. She wasn't sure why, as yet, but the reasons would come to her later.

"Varia," she said. "I use my right to challenge."

CHAPTER 8

"He lied to save me."

It was the first time Eve had spoken since the trial.

Xena, who had been combing her daughter's hair, still slightly damp from her bath, paused and exchanged a quick glance with Gabrielle; then her hand moved again, drawing the wooden comb through Eve's brown tresses in long mechanical strokes. She had suspected as much; something told her that Ares wasn't lying that morning by the brook when she asked him if the things he had said about Eve were true. She didn't want to think about what it meant to her that he told the truth. My daughter did this…

Eve twisted the long wide sleeve of her robe and gave a short, almost shrieking laugh.

"He must have really wanted to impress you."

The words cut deep. How had it not occurred to her before that Eve could be … well, jealous? She had been so quick to assume that whatever feelings Eve might have had for Ares had been Livia's feelings -- as gone, as dead as Livia herself. But it was still Eve who lived with the knowledge that she had been dropped without a second thought, for her own mother. Yet another reason this thing between her and Ares should never have happened. Only it was too late to think about that.

All she could say was a soft, pleading, "Eve…"

Then Eve turned her head up, her face suddenly earnest, and all of Xena's concern about her daughter's feelings was swept aside for something more immediate: Eve wasn't out of danger yet -- she was about to put herself right back into it.

"I have to tell the truth," she said.

"No." Throwing the comb aside, Xena came around to stand in front of Eve. "You are not doing this."

"Yes, I am." She began to rise from her chair, but Xena grabbed her shoulders, pushing her down.

"I said, no."

Eve's eyes flared, and at that moment Xena could see her own fire in those eyes. Her fire, her guilt… what a strange legacy to pass on to her daughter.

"You forget, Mother -- it's my life. It's my death. It's my choice."

"No, you forget." You forget that I already lost one child and I am not going to lose another, no matter what. "I am your mother -- I would die before I'd let them touch a hair on your head."

"You can't protect me forever. I'm not a child."

"You're my child." And I wasn't there to protect you when you were small. "I'll protect you as long as I can."

"By letting -- someone else die for my crime."

"He's not going to die," Xena said vehemently. She got down on her knees and grabbed Eve's hands almost violently. "Eve, listen to me. Nothing you say or do is going to make any difference to Ares. You go in and confess right now, and Varia will have you both killed if she can. She wants to go down in history as the Amazon queen who executed Ares, God of War -- you think she'll stop just because you tell her that it wasn't Ares who ordered the Amazons thrown overboard? Even without that, they had enough to sentence him to death. You go in there and hand yourself over to Varia, and I'll ... Gabrielle and I will have to worry about saving two people instead of one."

"He's not going to die, Eve." Gabrielle, who had been busy making dinner -- either because Eve hadn't had a decent meal in weeks, or because she wanted to keep her mind off other things ‑- finally spoke up. "I'm going to fight Varia."

Xena's heart gave a guilty wobble: In her anxiety about Eve, she had almost forgotten about this. As if she hadn't pushed Gabrielle far enough…

"You don't have to do it," she said softly, trying her best to mean it.

"Yes, I do."

"Gabrielle -- I could find some other way. After everything that -- "

"Let's not talk about it anymore, okay?" Gabrielle got a tray of baked apples out of the oven and winced a bit, maybe because the tray was hot. "I'll do it."

Eve lowered her head and sighed, her resistance wilting. When she spoke again, it was in a quiet, hollow voice.

"So you're going to cover up a lie to save me."

Gabrielle put the tray down with a bang. Eve jerked her head up, and Xena threw a sharp look back at Gabrielle, who pursed her lips and turned away.

"Eve." This time, she held her daughter's hands gently, the way she wished she could have done years ago. "There is no justice in what they're doing."

"Why shouldn't I pay for my crimes?"

"How can you pay for anything if you're dead? You can do so much more good alive... If you lead that mission to Rome, and bring home the Amazons you enslaved -- then you'll pay them back." She squinted, fighting the tears. "Listen to me, Eve -- I've always believed that no matter what someone has done, they can still turn their life around -- and they deserve a chance if they do. Do you think I'm going to make an exception for my own daughter?" She reached up and cupped Eve's chin. "Trust me on this one, okay?"

Eve sighed again and nodded, blinking a little. Then her face crumpled and she started to cry, slumping into Xena's arms, dropping her head on her shoulder.

"I love you ... Mother," she mumbled through big childlike sobs.

"Shh ... I love you too." Xena stroked Eve's fluffed hair and kissed the top of her head. "I love you too. It's going to be all right."

* ~ * ~ *

After trying to find a comfortable way to lie down, Ares gave up and sat leaning against the wall, wrapping himself in the thin, worn-out blanket. In the near-darkness, which the checkered square of moonlight on the floor did little to dispel, he groped awkwardly for the jug of water and drank the little that was left. He was getting hungry again, but it was better to endure hunger and thirst than to ask the guards for anything. It was already bad enough to sit in this stinking jail, weaponless and chained, waiting for his girlfriend to rescue him. Of course, it was even worse to think that she might not rescue him and... He shuddered and clutched tighter at the blanket, acutely aware of every discomfort of his mortal flesh: the gnawing emptiness in his stomach, the stiffness in his legs, the hard lumps in the pallet under him, the stale and slightly acrid smell invading his nostrils, the chill of the night. His wrists were sore from the manacles, a heavy numbness seeping into his hands.

In his very long existence, he'd seen plenty of executions. He used to observe, with a detached disappointment, how some of the bravest warriors could falter when having to face the executioner's sword or rope, and disgrace themselves in their final moments -- put up a futile struggle, or blubber like children, or lose control of their legs -- or, worse yet, piss on themselves or ... his mouth tightened in disgust. He reached for the jug again and realized that his hands were shaking.

Not like this -- please, not like this. Let me die in battle, with a sword in my hands -- with her at my side. She would cradle him in her lap, a single tear rolling down her cheek, and wipe the trickle of blood from his mouth and claim his last breath in a long, sweet kiss ... Then, as if in mockery, his mind filled with far less glorious images of death in battle. As if he, of all people, didn't know how ugly it could be... With his luck, he'd probably end up with his guts ripped out or half his head smashed to a pulp. Throwing off the blanket, he got up abruptly, the floorboards creaking fretfully under his boots, and stalked to the window to take a few gulps of fresh air, as if to reassure himself that he was still alive. The stars winked at him, as chilly and distant as his former fellow gods.

Gods... It occurred to him that he could try calling on Aphrodite. Maybe she'd hear him... But no, he hadn't sunk that low, not yet. Even having Blondie save him would be less humiliating.

To think that once, not so long ago, he had been safe from ever having to worry about such things -- and he'd given it up, because ... well, because the thought of a world without Xena in it was unbearable. What if he'd had time to think about the consequences, back then? Would he do it over again? Ares lifted a hand to wipe the sweat that had broken out on his forehead; he had forgotten about the manacles for the moment, and flinched back when the chain hit him in the face. He wandered back to the pallet and slumped down. He tried to think of the night he'd spent with her in Megara, the feel of her kisses, the firm yet pliant warmth of her body in his embrace, the way she held his face in her hands -- only to have his imagination conjure up a vision of Xena holding his severed head. When the painful dry convulsions in his throat subsided, he thought that maybe he should ask the guards for some water after all.

Dammit -- snap out of it. He wasn't going to die. Amazon law allowed a challenger to fight the queen for the life of the condemned; Xena could kick Varia's ass five times over before breakfast. The memory of Gascar's taunt stirred in his mind, making him wince: Even if you survive, you'll never be anything more than a pathetic loser -- relying on Xena to bail you out... So he'd have to depend on her to save him, yet again; but he'd be alive, and with her, and after a few good fights he'd be able to get the bad taste of his present helplessness out of his mouth.

Taking a few deep breaths, Ares lay down again and pulled the blanket over himself. He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he heard voices outside. Her voice.

He sat up. Oh thank -- whoever.

The bolts screeched heavily, and the door swung open with a groan, and there she was. She walked toward him, holding up a lantern; its light gave her dark hair a soft golden shine and made her eyes glitter. She squatted in front of him and said, "Hey..." -- and he knew he'd do it all over again.

Putting down the lantern and the basket she carried in her other hand, Xena reached out to stroke his face, and he touched his lips to her wrist. Through half-veiled eyes, he watched her lean forward, and waited to lose himself in her kiss; but instead she pressed her cheek to his and rested like that for a moment, holding his hands, and only then tilted her head and kissed him.

When she pulled back, she said, her voice almost casual, "Here, I got you some bread and cheese and wine..."

She sat down next to him on the edge of the pallet. As he ate, Ares felt Xena's eyes on him and caught himself wondering if he looked completely pathetic -- his hands hampered by the chains, his hair messed up from all that tossing and turning, bits of straw from the pallet stuck to his vest and probably to his hair and beard, too. He glanced cautiously at Xena and saw the look on her face -- not pitying but thoughtful, almost puzzled.

"What?"

"Why did you do it?" she asked quietly.

He took another bite of bread, then sipped from the wineskin. "Do what?"

"Take the blame for Eve."

He eyed her curiously. "What makes you so sure I didn't give those orders?"

Xena looked away. "Eve told me." Her voice was so low he could barely hear her. "Besides -- it isn't -- wasn't your style."

Why did he do it ... he hadn't thought about it, really. It had just felt like the thing to do at the moment. Maybe it was as simple as seeing the excruciating pain in Xena's eyes, the same pain that had been there when she was looking at those crosses in the Elijan village, and wanting to make it go away. Maybe a part of him felt that he was responsible, having goaded Livia to go after the Amazons... What in Tartarus was that -- Xena's guilt complex rubbing off on him?

He leaned over to nuzzle her shoulder, and then looked up at her and grinned.

"Maybe I just wanted to surprise my girl."

She shook her head, smiling, her eyes shiny.

"Besides, it's not so bad," he said. "Hey, I'm kinda looking forward to watching you kick the crap out of Varia."

Her smile withered, and something in her face gave him a chill.

"What's wrong?"

"Not me," she said. "Gabrielle."

Ares stared in disbelief.

"Please tell me you're joking."

Xena slowly shook her head, keeping her eyes on his.

"Under Amazon law, only an Amazon can challenge a death sentence by fighting the queen. It wasn't this way before -- but it is now. Ares" -- she put her hand on his shoulder -- "I wanted to fight Varia as Gabrielle's champion, but they wouldn't let me. So Gabrielle will fight her instead."

His dismay must have registered fully in his features, because Xena gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"Don't worry. You've seen Gabrielle fight. You know she's good."

Yes, she was -- but ... but somehow, hearing this news had felt like listening to his death sentence all over again. His and Xena's twin shadows swayed on the walls, huge and black, a pair of mocking ghosts; the dankness of the jail was settling into his bones. Ares grabbed the wineskin and raised it to his mouth, but his hands jerked violently, making his manacles clang and spilling the dark red liquid on his chest.

"Damn," he muttered hoarsely, trying to stop his teeth from chattering.

"It's okay." Xena turned toward him and put her hands on his arms. "You'll be okay."

"Xena -- dammit..." He lowered his head, trying to steady his breath. Something wet fell on his hand, and for one awful moment he thought he was crying ... no, it was a drop of sweat. "Xena..." He wanted to say something but the only words that came to mind sounded -- well, they sounded irritatingly like things most likely to be said by Gabrielle. Xena -- there's so much I haven't told you yet... Xena -- this time with you has been the only time I've been really alive...

He picked up the wineskin, and this time managed to keep his hand firm and take a few sips -- and then, turning to Xena again, to shape his mouth into something like a smile.

"Well -- we had a good run..."

"Don't." Her eyes were suddenly hard, her grip on his arm so tight that it hurt. "Don't you dare give up. I won't let anyone kill you. I promise. Anyone."

The ferocity in Xena's voice snapped him out of his misery; not so much because he was entirely reassured about his chances for survival, but because he had picked up the part she had left unspoken: You're mine. Ares nodded, and watched her face melt back into tenderness.

"I promise." This time, her voice was soft. "You'll be okay."

She knelt behind him and hugged him, folding her arms around his neck. Ares leaned back, breathing her in, resting his head on her shoulder; as she ran her palm over his chest, wiping off the spilled wine, he was pierced by an acute, hot shudder of desire that made him moan aloud. Awkwardly twisting his body around, he pressed his face to her neck -- gods, how maddening not to be able to take her in his arms -- and hungrily kissed the soft skin, then trailed his lips higher, shutting his eyes. She opened her lips to his kiss and held him close; but as his tongue moved inside her mouth and his hands fumbled at her thighs, he felt her tense slightly and knew that they were not going to make love, not in this filthy jail with the guards just outside -- not when it would feel like a last, hopeless good-bye.

He drew back, catching his breath. Xena's mouth creased as if she were on the verge of either tears or a smile; finally she smiled, running her fingertips across his cheek. Then she put her palms on his shoulders and pushed him down gently until he was lying on his back, and moved around so that his head would rest in her lap.

"Get some sleep," she whispered.

He closed his eyes again, and felt the touch of her lips on his eyelids, one then the other. He didn't think he could sleep, not with his body still aching for her, not with worry about his possible doom still burrowing about his mind; but eventually the warmth of her hand on his forehead began to soothe him, making his jumbled thoughts dissolve into an almost peaceful haze.

Xena watched as his face relaxed, his eyelashes fluttering softly, his breath growing calm. After a while she whispered, "Ares"; he sighed but didn't move. She sat there a bit longer, and then tasted something salty on her lips. With a start, she lifted a hand to her cheek and realized it was wet. She jerked her fingers away. Get a grip; you just lashed out at him for giving up, and now you're going to sit here crying? There was no time to mope; she had to think of a backup plan in case Gabrielle lost to Varia.

Very carefully, she lifted Ares' head up, laid him down on the pallet and pulled the blanket over him. Then she got up and tiptoed toward the door, leaving the lantern on the floor by the pallet.

The Amazon who let her out made to slam the door, but Xena's hand shot out to catch her wrist.

"Don't wake him."

The guard snorted and glared at her; Xena glared back, and the woman shrugged peevishly and closed the door as quietly as it could be closed. When Xena looked in through the small window, Ares was still asleep.

* ~ * ~ *

"Why are you doing this?"

Gabrielle flinched a little and bit her lip. She had expected this question when she went to see Varia, but she still had trouble answering it.

She fidgeted in her bearskin-covered chair, looking uneasily around the queen's hut. It was austere and sparsely furnished, the feathered Amazon masks on the wall and a few trophy weapons the only decorations, unless one counted a motley beaded curtain that separated the private quarters. The sun was bright outside, a slanted beam of silvery-white mist leaving a bleached patch on the brown rug on the floor. Gabrielle could hear the usual sounds of morning in the village: the squealing children, the teenage girls chattering and laughing at the well, the splash of water and the clang of the bucket and chain; and, in the distance, the shouts and grunts of warriors doing their exercises.

Shifting her eyes back to Varia, Gabrielle wondered vaguely why she had come here. To try to talk Varia out of the fight and the execution, of course... as if there was any hope of that.

The prospect of the fight unnerved her, and not because she doubted her skills. She had been awake most of the night, dozing off fitfully a few times. After Eve had fallen asleep, Xena had gone off with a curt "I'll be back," taking a food basket and a wineskin with her. There was, of course, no need to ask where she was headed. Lying in the dark under too-heavy fur covers, watching as the shimmering embers in the hearth melted slowly into black, she was past caring what Xena did with Ares in that jail. There was too much else, too much... She had lied ... or at least helped cover up a lie ... to protect Eve. No, lied -- to her own people. On top of that, she was going to fight Varia, her queen, for the life of Xena's lover, for the life of the man who was ruining her life. It couldn't get much worse than that.

Then Xena came back, and it was worse. She undressed quietly and lay down on the pelts that served as their bedding, and as they lay next to each other, Xena on her back, Gabrielle on her side with her back to Xena, the silence between them thickened into something almost palpable, a hard thing pushing them apart. After a few moments Xena turned, and Gabrielle thought she could sense her hand move closer; a clammy panic enveloped her at the thought that Xena was going to wrap an arm around her, or even touch her, and she wouldn't be able to keep from flinching. Finally the furs rustled softly and Xena turned away, settling on her side.

They had barely spoken or even looked at each other since the trial -- except for a brief moment while Eve was taking her bath, when Gabrielle frantically began to explain why she had voted guilty, and Xena nodded, staring intensely at her boots.

And now she was sitting here with Varia, meeting her expectant, irritated stare.

She couldn't possibly explain why she had to fight for Ares. She couldn't tell the truth about Eve; she couldn't say that if Ares died for Xena's daughter, he would divide them in death more than he ever had alive; nor could she give voice to her fears about how far Xena would go to protect Ares. There was only one thing she could say, and she made herself say it.

"Varia, he saved my life." She paused, and knew she couldn't leave it at that. "He gave up his godhood to save -- Xena and me." It was best not to mention Eve.

Varia's eyes narrowed warily.

"Why?"

"What does it matter?" The passion in her own voice shocked her. "We owe him our lives. I can't let him die."

"I suppose it was because he has a thing for Xena, wasn't it." Varia snorted. "And for that -- you're willing to overlook all his crimes against our people."

"Varia... It's -- it's not the same for gods. To them, mortal lives are -- like toys. You can't really judge him for that ... not now that he's mortal." She almost believed it, too.

"You and Xena -- you've got a good excuse for everything, don't you," Varia said. "Livia isn't what she was, Ares isn't what he was... I have to watch half of my tribe being slaughtered, and when I get a chance to avenge them -- you tell me that those who did it don't exist anymore. Oh, they're not dead -- just different." She shook her head with a bitter smirk. "I wish they'd changed before they did what they did to us."

"But don't you see ... vengeance changes nothing."

"It does for me. A warrior can't just let it rest, Gabrielle." She paused and looked away, her voice suddenly hushed. "I could have changed it all."

"What do you mean?"

"When -- " Varia's voice broke off and she was silent for a moment. "When Livia's troops overran my village, my sister and I were out scouting." She looked turned her head to face Gabrielle again, her face soft and hesitant. "When we came back, the battle was raging, and the Romans didn't see us. I was able to sneak up on Livia from behind, with a sword in my hand. I had the perfect chance." Her voice hardened. "I could have rid the world of Livia. But it was my first battle -- I had never killed before. And so I hesitated -- long enough for her to turn around. I'll never forget the look in her eyes."

Gabrielle shuddered inwardly. Rid the world of Livia ... Eve ... Eve would have been dead. She didn't want to ask herself how that made her feel.

"I thought she was going to kill me," Varia went on. "Just then, Tura screamed and rushed toward me, and Livia ... Livia ran her through." She was silent again, a faraway look in her eyes, her fingers going toward a beaded bracelet on her left wrist.

Her throat tightening, Gabrielle forced herself to keep her eyes on Varia's.

"And you?" she asked in a small voice.

"I was knocked out and left behind. Maybe she left me for dead; maybe she thought it would be worse for me to live with the memory. To live knowing that if I had killed Livia, I would still have my tribe and my sister." She rose from her chair, walked to the window and stood still for a moment, looking out. Then she turned, her face now cold and set in determination. "I can't undo the past. But we can redeem it with justice."

Gabrielle got up as well. There was no point in arguing with Varia about justice; it was, she realized, as much about Varia's own guilt as about Ares' or Eve's.

"Vari