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___________________ :: Continued from Page 3 :: ___________________ |
Gabrielle tried to find a reasonably comfortable position on the narrow cot. At least they had put her in one of the nicer cells -- though that wasn't saying much -- and even given her a small table, a stool and some writing implements. More importantly, Xena wasn't even for a second buying this idea of her being involved in the assassination plot. She had come to see her, hugged her tightly and said in a low voice, the emotion just beneath the surface, "I will never let them do anything to you, Gabrielle. Never." (So Caesar was now "them.") She had also asked, looking vexed and almost bewildered, if Caesar had any reason to hate her. Gabrielle couldn't tell her, of course; if she had, surely Xena would have thought her insane.
Clearly, Caesar wanted her dead; he didn't know that she knew, but he was still afraid that her company would somehow jolt awake Xena's own memories of her other life. Would Xena be able to protect her? Was Xena herself safe from her husband? And would Ares --
In the darkness of the cell, there was a sound. Gabrielle lifted her head, listening. There it was again ... the cell door opening stealthily. She was about to whisper, "Xena?" when a hand was clamped over her mouth.
The shock momentarily paralyzed her. In the next moment, strong male hands yanked her off the cot and held her in their grip; the oil lamp on the table was lit, and she saw a man in front of her. The two intruders were guards on the night shift. She was acutely aware that she had nothing on but a flimsy shirt, and the memory of what her first master, Stavros, had tried to do to her exploded in her mind. But what she saw next quickly made her realize it wasn't that kind of attack. The second man picked up the belt from her dress and carefully began to tie it into a noose, while his eyes darted up to a beam under the ceiling and then down to the stool.
She tried desperately to collect her thoughts; the other man's hand on her face had nearly cut off her air supply, and she was getting dizzy. Her only hope was to try to draw on the fighting skills she remembered from her other life, even if her body wasn't nearly as well-conditioned.
With a swift move, Gabrielle jabbed her elbow into the chest of the man holding her. The well-aimed blow took him completely by surprise -- the little bard didn't look like she could put up much of a resistance. Letting go of her, he sagged and crumpled on his knees, gasping for breath like a fish. As the other guard froze in shock for a moment, she spun and delivered a kick below the waist that made him stagger and double over, bellowing in pain. The first one lunged again but she had already grabbed the stool, just in time to bring it down on his head and then to knock out her second attacker too before he had quite recovered.
Panting, Gabrielle surveyed her handiwork. Too bad she didn't know those moves when Stavros tried to force himself on her.
Just then, she heard something else behind her -- it sounded like clapping. The stool still clutched in her hand, Gabrielle whirled around and swung it at whoever was there.
"Damn!"
She found herself staring at Ares, who was rubbing the bridge of his nose and squinting at her with a rather pained expression on his face.
"Ooh..." she winced. "Did that hurt?"
"No, it's my favorite thing in the world. If I'd been mortal you would have broken my nose."
"Well, it serves you right for sneaking up on me after two guys tried just to hang me! I thought you told me you wouldn't let me come to any harm."
"So? I don't see any harm done. I wanted to see how you'd handle them. Not bad," he added with a grin. "They should've thrown a couple more at you."
"Oh ... thanks very much." The rush of energy that had surged through her during the attack had abated, and Gabrielle was barely able to make it to the cot before her legs gave out under her.
"Well, chop-chop. Let's get you out of here."
"Out?"
"Yeah. Unless, of course, you really like it in here."
She rose, her legs still a little wobbly, and came up to him but then stopped. "What about Xena? I can't just run out on her like this."
Ares rolled his eyes. "Wouldn't have her miss out on the fun of arranging your funeral?"
Gabrielle was still hesitating when Ares cocked his head as if listening for something, and then vanished in a burst of light.
"What -- "she stuttered, blinking at the spot where he had just stood. In the next second, the door of the cell was pushed open and there stood Xena, whose eyes widened at the sight of the two still-unconscious men on the floor.
"Gabrielle? What's going on?"
"Oh, Xena..." She was shaking now, tears streaming down her face. "They ... they were going to ..." With a quick motion of her head, she pointed to the belt.
Xena's face became rigid with rage, only to crumble when she looked at Gabrielle again. With a little anguished sigh, she rushed to embrace her. "Oh, Gabrielle... I have to get you out of here. I don't understand any of this, but Caesar wants you dead."
"Get me out?" She swallowed. "Xena... it could be dangerous for you, too..."
"Nonsense. Caesar wouldn't dare do anything to me."
"Xena, please listen ..." But what could she say? In another lifetime, Caesar had you crucified twice?
"Gabrielle, don't argue." At that moment, Xena sounded far more like the Warrior Princess than the Empress. "Let's go before these bastards wake up." Then she glanced at Gabrielle and frowned, puzzled. "Wait a minute ... you took down two men by yourself?"
"I'm not even sure how I did it, Xena... I don't remember any of it too well..."
"You know, Gabrielle..." Xena patted her friend's arm. "I think you could be a real fighter, just like that Warrior Princess in your stories. Come on."
She grabbed the keys from one of the men and locked the cell door behind them as they left.
The Empress stood in the dark bedroom, looking at her husband's sleeping form.
She had smuggled Gabrielle out of the dungeon and up to her quarters. Less than an hour later, in a black wig, heavy makeup, and a slinky dress that made her look like a dancing girl who might have been visiting some officer of the imperial guard, Gabrielle had left the palace. Xena had given her money, and instructions to get out of the city as quickly as possible. There hadn't been much time for good-byes. "You will always be with me, Gabrielle," she had whispered, hugging the little bard, telling her not to cry or she'd smear her makeup. And then, impulsively, she had added, smiling as sparse tears rolled down her own cheek, "Maybe it's like that connection of souls you keep talking about."
Now, with Gabrielle safely out of the way, she had to confront Caesar.
Turning up the light, she walked over to the bed, sat down, and touched his shoulder.
"Caesar."
He sat up with a start, and she was surprised to see a shadow of fear cross his face as he looked at her.
"I know what you did," she said flatly. "You ordered the two guards on the night shift to hang Gabrielle and make it look like suicide, didn't you?" He didn't answer. "And the official theory would have been that she was so despondent over having betrayed her benefactor, the Empress, that she killed herself."
Caesar shifted nervously and licked his lips. He looked like he was pondering some options.
"You mean, Gabrielle is dead?" he finally asked.
"I hate to disappoint you, my dear husband." She looked at him with a bitter sneer. "Somehow, Gabrielle was able to fight off your thugs. And now she's safe. What I want to know is, why?" There was sincere bewilderment in her face and voice.
Caesar got out of bed, threw on a gown and turned around. He had regained his composure; the wry half-smile was back on his lips, and his eyes signaled a veiled threat.
"My dearest wife, I don't know what you're talking about. I think, tomorrow, we will hear a very different story from the guards on the night shift. We will find out that the little playwright, who somehow turned out to have the skills of a seasoned fighter, attacked them and escaped in the night. And maybe she had some help."
For a while, Xena looked at him silently, the corner of her mouth twitching a bit.
"Caesar, I've had a vision," she finally said. "It was about us, the first time we met. You remember that, don't you." The Emperor said nothing, waiting for what she would say next, but she thought she saw his shoulders flinch and his eyelashes quiver.
"In that vision, things ended differently. After I took you back to Rome, you had me captured and crucified. And when I said, 'What about us, we were going to conquer the world together?' you said 'There was never any us, Xena -- only Rome, and I am Rome.' And you said you'd always remember what we had because I'd have a place of honor among your conquered."
"Really." Caesar was watching his wife intently; his voice had the usual note of cool sarcasm, but there was a hint of apprehension in his face.
"And as I was being hoisted up on the cross, you said, 'Divide and conquer. You divide a woman's emotions from her sensibilities and you have her.'"
"Anything else?"
"No. Well, your last words were -- 'Break her legs.'"
"How very interesting."
"Tell me something, Caesar. You considered doing that, didn't you."
"Dear me. What a question," he said with a forced laugh, his face a mask of elegant haughtiness.
Slowly, she said, "I think I know now what that vision was about."
His eyes narrowed, and there was no mistaking it now -- there was fear in them. His voice, though, remained steady. "Whatever do you mean?"
She rose. "It means that you were always going to betray me, one way or another. There was never any us, Caesar. Not even Rome. Just you."
Caesar followed the Empress with his eyes as she stalked out.
She was his enemy now, no question about it -- and getting uncomfortably close to some dangerous knowledge. It was time to get rid of her. Accuse her of plotting to have him killed and to seize all the power; better yet, of selling out the interests of Rome to help her native Greece.
Of course, it wouldn't do to have an arrest and a trial out in the open. The scandal wouldn't be good, and the Empress had a large fan base, even in the army. He had to strike before she could reach out to her supporters. Rally his loyal Praetorian guards ... work on those Senators who had never reconciled themselves to the fact that a woman, and a foreign-born one at that, had so much power in Rome ... get her isolated and put her in a position where she would see no options other than honorable suicide or a shameful execution. And he was reasonably certain that he would have support from another important quarter as well: his new patron deity.
"My lady Minerva!" he called out.
Golden light flared, and the grey-eyed woman in dazzling armor of silver and gold stood before the Emperor.
"Caesar."
"My lady." He bowed his head. "I am badly in need of your wisdom."
When Athena returned to Olympus, a touch of a smile played on her aristocratic mouth. The Xena problem was almost taken care of -- just as she had thought all along it should be, as an insurance policy against any possible Twilight scenario. No, of course it wasn't vengeance; such base emotions might be suited to a half-crazed degenerate like her brother, but the Goddess of Wisdom and Honorable Warfare was surely above them... The thought of her brother reminded Athena that something needed to be done to keep him from screwing this up. Oh well, that's what Hephaestus had his trinkets for.
"Bro?"
Ares slowly lifted his head, snapping out of the half-stupor he had been trying, not too successfully, to force himself into. He wasn't sure how long he'd been trapped like this, the way those bitches Athena and Artemis had left him, forearms bound to the armrests of his throne. At first, he had made his halls on Olympus shake with roars of anguished rage, and struggled so hard that, had his body been susceptible to injury, his arms would have been wrenched out of their sockets. Then, numbness and sheer exhaustion had set in.
Aphrodite reached out and gently caressed his cheek. "So sad..."
He jerked his head away. "She's dead, isn't she."
The Goddess of Love sighed. "Not yet, but... well yeah, that's the idea."
He shivered and closed his eyes. "Sis ... let me see."
She cocked her head at him. "You sure you wanna, like, torture yourself, bro?"
"Do it!" he snarled.
Wrinkling her eyebrows with an impatient little sniff, Aphrodite opened a viewing portal. Xena, her eyes closed, her face very white, lay in a large tub -- in water that was red with blood. Two of her maids knelt nearby, sobbing quietly. She opened her eyes and lifted a hand, crimson droplets falling from her wrist into the water.
Ares turned away, his cheek twitching. "Close it."
Aphrodite waved her hand.
He looked at her again and said savagely, "I have to go to her."
The blonde goddess shook her head. "Ares ... I'm sorry, bro, but you can't save her ... Daddy and Athena and, like, everyone else really think she's got to go."
He bit his lip, his breath coming in harsh spurts.
"Awww, look now..." She perched herself next to her brother and stroked his hair. "I feel bad for you and I think it's totally sweet that you're, like, head over heels in love..."
"Oh shut up," he said through clenched teeth.
" ... and I'm kinda bummed out about the warrior babe too ... but you know something, it's so cool to have things back to normal. I mean, it was such a drag before when almost everybody was gone ... and I missed Hephy real bad. Well, Daddy and the others -- see, they think it's not really safe as long as she's around..."
The War God threw his head back, stifling a groan. "They won't even let me say good-bye to her."
His sister eyed him warily. "Just to say good-bye, bro? You promise you won't do anything stupid like last time ... you know, heal her and give up your godhood?"
A deep sigh rattled in his chest. "Okay, I promise."
Aphrodite thought about it for a minute, frowning a little. "What about the bard?"
Ares jerked his head up. "What about her?"
"Well, shouldn't she be with her too? You know, to say good-bye and all that?"
"No," he snapped, his eyes hardening.
"Come on bro... Fair is fair... I let you go, you let me bring the little bard over, and you can all say your good-byes. So lovely ... so touching ... so romantic..." Teardrops glittered prettily in her eyes, but her face was almost beaming with a beatific smile. Ares glanced at Aphrodite, and it occurred to him, much too vaguely to put the thought in words, that the godhood of war wasn't the only one that entailed cruelty. His sister might have a compassionate side -- she was certainly the only one of his fellow Olympians who had ever shown him any affection -- but everything that had to do with matters of the heart, including the agonies, was part of a little private theater for her enjoyment.
"All right," he said.
"Well let's see ..." She bent down to look at the chains. "I know something about Hephy's tricks ... I think there's a lock right there and ... yeah, here we go!"
The dark god stood up abruptly, and vanished into the ether even before he had walked down the steps of his throne, and before Aphrodite was finished saying, "Now remember, bro, don't do anything stupid."
The Empress's weeping maids froze when light swished through the air and the tall leather-clad figure materialized in front of them.
"Out." His voice was low but terrifying. "And if you dare bring anyone in here -- "
The two women scrambled away to their nearby room, and the God of War was left alone with his beloved. He came up to her and knelt by the edge of the tub; his lips were trembling.
"Xena..."
She moaned softly, her eyes still closed. "Thais was singing to me -- "
Her whisper was a barely audible rustle, and her face felt cold against his lips, so cold. "Xena... it's me."
"Ares." Her eyelids fluttered open and then closed again.
He put his arms around her shoulders and pulled her toward him. "Xena ... I love you, I love you, I love you -- " He kept repeating it, helplessly, hopelessly, as if to make up for all the times he would never get to say it to her again.
"Funny ... I would ... like to believe that," she whispered. "I don't think anyone loves me ... except ... Gabrielle."
Was this what it felt like for mortals, he wondered, when a blade thrust into one's entrails was twisted in the wound? He could think of nothing to say except to repeat it again -- "I love you, Xena ... I love you..."
"Kiss me," she breathed.
Ares took her face in his hands, shuddering at the chilliness of it, and kissed the closed eyes, the forehead, the bloodless cheeks, the lips that were almost as pale. Her skin had a salty taste, and with a shock he realized that the tears were his. He gathered her in his arms again, cradling her, rocking back and forth. Her head lolled back and her breath was growing fainter. "No, no" -- he swallowed convulsively but still couldn't get rid of the lump in his throat -- "stay with me -- " There was one thing he could think of saying to keep her awake, and he forced himself to give the imaginary blade in his gut another twist. "Gabrielle will be here any minute..."
The burst of pink and gold indeed announced Aphrodite's arrival with Gabrielle. The bard looked a little more like her old self now, in a knee-length dress and boots, her hair short -- the night of her escape, Xena had cropped it so the wig would fit more easily. Her face was flushed and puffy, and what she saw made her burst into tears.
"Xena! No! No!"
Aphrodite gestured to her brother; gritting his teeth, he let go of the dying woman and stepped aside to make way for Gabrielle. Weeping, she embraced her friend, stroked her face and her damp hair, and reached into the reddened water to take Xena's hands in hers, almost choking with sobs at the sight of the thin cuts in the pale wrists.
The Goddess of Love touched Ares' hand. "Now remember, bro... you promised ... it's just a good-bye, nothing else. Otherwise Daddy and the others will have my ass. Not to mention yours."
He nodded slightly; even if he did decide to break his promise and heal Xena, he reflected, it would leave him mortal and unable to protect her, and they would likely both be dead within the hour. He looked away, wishing his sister would quit fawning over him. She reached up to peck him on the cheek, and again sighed melodiously, "So sad..." before dissolving in a cloud of sparks.
Ares closed his eyes and leaned against the wall. He barely flinched when he heard Xena whisper, "I love you, Gabrielle" ... that's right, twist it a little more.
"Ares?" The strangled voice was Gabrielle's. "I think she's -- really going now..."
In a second he was at her side. Xena's shallow breath could still be heard but she was no longer conscious.
"Can't you ... do anything?"
Ares shook his head. He touched her face again, and pressed his lips to her hand; for the first time in his millennia of existence, the sight and smell of blood horrified him. Some minutes later he looked up and said, "She's dead."
He rose to his feet. Conjuring up a sheet to cover her, he picked up Xena's body and carried her to the bed. He thought of the two other times when he had carried her like this, dead in his arms -- except that those times, she had only seemed dead.
The War God took a deep breath and held out a hand over Xena. In a moment, she was fully clad in her warrior outfit. He stood over her for a few minutes, gazing on her face, her body -- even drained of color like this, she was so beautiful -- so still, so white. His eyes lingered on the golden eagle on her breastplate, the symbol of imperial Rome, and his lips twisted in disgust; with a quick motion of his hand, he erased it from existence.
Gabrielle, who had been huddled on the floor sobbing, looked up. "Ares ... what are you doing?"
"None of your business." He picked up Xena's body in his arms again.
She got up and walked toward him, a little unsteady on her feet. "Are you going to take her somewhere?"
"I'll make sure she will -- never be disturbed."
She stared at him, tears still streaming, and then gasped. "The ice cave! That ice cave where you put us both back then ... you want to bury her there."
His stare was heavy and blank. "You are smart."
"What about me?"
"Call Aphrodite, she'll take you back to wherever she got you."
"No! " Gabrielle came up and stared at the God of War, her fists clenched, her tear-stained little face stiff with determination. "You have to take me with you."
He snorted. "Since when do you tell me what I have to do?"
"Ares..." Her eyes sparkled, the anger in them momentarily displacing the pain. "Maybe it's the least you can do! You used me in your game and now I've lost everything -- everything!"
"My condolences."
"How…" she sputtered. "How can you love her so much and be such a bastard to everyone else?"
She saw a flicker of emotion in his eyes before he turned away. "A question for the ages, Gabrielle. Why don't you go and write a philosophical treatise about it."
He straightened up and she realized that he was about to disappear. "No!" she screamed. "Ares -- Ares, when you put me in that cave, in a coffin next to hers -- "
Ares glowered at her. "That I could still arrange."
"... you didn't have to do that either, did you? Except you knew that she would have wanted it that way." He sighed and closed his eyes. "She would have wanted me to be there now."
"All right," he grunted. "Come on."
Shivering in the cold air, Gabrielle looked around the cave. At any other time she would have been overwhelmed by its magical beauty -- the luminous crystals of ice, the gentle veil of white mist that hung in the air. The bard remembered how she and Xena woke up here in their other life, the glare of the sun burning her eyes, the silvery tinkling of the water where the ice had melted. This time there would be no waking up. The tears came again, and then something stirred dimly in her mind. This time... their other life...
Before the thought could develop, she heard Ares' voice. "Well? What did you want to do?"
Xena was laid out in her ice coffin now, hands folded, dark hair -- straight and streaming like that of the Warrior Princess -- spread over her shoulders. Gabrielle came up and brushed the knuckles of a trembling hand against her face, a face now as otherworldly in its pallor as this mystical cave. She bent down and pressed her lips to Xena's cheek, and then looked at Ares. "I'd like to have a lock of her hair."
He scowled but took out his dagger, carefully snipped a lock of raven hair and handed it to her. She slipped it inside a locket she wore around her neck -- a locket that had been a parting gift from Myrrhina, the kind woman who had freed her and helped her achieve her dreams of a literary career. Her dreams ... a literary career ... it all seemed so distant now. Could she ever go back to that life, even if some day she was no longer on Caesar's most wanted list?
"Now get out." His voice was flat. "Wait outside."
The bard walked out, the icy wind stinging her wet face and whipping her arms. She thought of Ares back there in the cave, taking a last look at the woman who had broken through a different wall of ice -- the one that surrounded the human part of the God of War.
Then, with a start, she remembered what she had been thinking before.
In a couple of minutes Ares came out, a single teardrop quivering on his eyelashes and already turning to crystal. He raised both hands, and within seconds a thick sheet of ice sealed the entrance to the cave. He pressed his forehead against the ice and stood still.
"Ares."
He shuddered and gave her a disgusted look.
"Can't you ever keep your mouth shut for a few minutes?"
"Ares, I thought of something."
"Am I supposed to find this interesting?"
"Yes, you are. There's still a way we can bring her back."
Slowly, he turned around. "What are you talking about?"
She hunched her shoulders and rubbed her upper arms, trying to ward off the cold. "The threads of Fate, Ares -- there must be some way to undo what Caesar did with the loom. And then it would bring our world back. The real world."
The god stared at her silently.
"I was right! There is a way, isn't there?"
"Bring back a world in which she's alive," he said. "And just about my whole family's dead -- and I'm a mortal man with nothing except a tumble-down shack and some chickens and a dog -- "
His voice broke off and he looked down. A world in which, Gabrielle thought, Xena would be living -- but not with Ares. He was likely thinking the same thing.
Ares shook his head. "Look, the gods aren't that dumb. The security down there is pretty heavy. And what Zeus and the others would do if they caught me trying to mess with the loom -- well, let's just say that, as Dear Old Dad pointed out, the farm would look very good by comparison."
"So you're scared," she said, well aware of the effect such an accusation would have on the God of War. Of course, it could backfire and he could just blast her off the snowy ledge.
The rage flared up in his eyes for a moment, but then the eyelids drooped again. "I'm tired," he said, his voice unexpectedly soft. "Losing her, finding her, losing her, again and again ... it's too much." She realized that he was talking to himself more than to her. "At some point, it should just be over."
"All right!" Gabrielle spat out. "I'll do it myself."
"You'll do what yourself?"
"Go to the Fates' Temple. I know where it is, remember? Xena and I went down there once."
"You're out of your mind."
"At least I love her enough to try."
This time the fury in his face made her back up perilously close to the edge of the abyss. In the next second, the light flashed around him and he vanished.
Great... now she'd have to make her way down on her own. Oh well, she had done it before -- that time after she and Xena woke up. A little frostbite was no big deal.
Bracing herself against the wind, Gabrielle found something that looked like a path and began her descent. Soon, her hands were raw from gripping the frozen rocks to steady herself, and her legs were growing numb. She wasn't sure how long she'd been climbing when she felt her boot slide on a patch of ice and her feet flailed madly, finding nothing but empty air. She tried clutching at a piece of rock and knew she wouldn't be able to hold on.
Just as her bleeding fingers let go of the rock, powerful hands grabbed her waist and a deep voice grumbled into her ear, "You damn fool."
Well, at least he had kept an eye on her.
Gabrielle felt the vortex of light and air open up around her, and when she opened her eyes she was standing on the grass below. Ares was nowhere to be seen.
Rome was in mourning, and in shock. Wild rumors flew about the death of the Empress and the disappearance of her body. Nor did anyone know the identity of the centurion who leaped at Caesar outside the Senate doors the next day and stabbed him three times before his bodyguards could react. A split second later they swung their swords at the man, but he seemed simply to have vanished in the general commotion and panic. Caesar was still alive when he was brought back to the palace. The physicians noted in bewilderment that the wounds might as well have been deliberately inflicted so as to cause the slowest, most agonizing death -- though surely, they agreed, the assailant could not have had the time to take such precise aim.
For the most part, Ares avoided Olympus, and especially his family. He tried to get himself interested in a battle but fled when, to his dismay, the blood that splattered his face brought back a sickening memory of Xena's bleeding wrists. He went to some of his temples and looked listlessly at the offerings. He thought of visiting Cleopatra, and realized that he had not a bit of enthusiasm for the prospect. He tried to remember how long it had taken him to recover when he though her dead for twenty-five years; but everything was so different now, after his time as a mortal and his experiences in this altered world in these past couple of months.
Once or twice, he couldn't resist opening up a portal to see what the insufferable blonde was up to. Well, if she wasn't actually headed for the Fates' Temple. He rolled his eyes. Fine, let her get her silly head chopped off by the Proxidicae the moment she sets foot inside.
Of course, if he were to go there, he could take care of the Proxidicae and unchain the Fates. He remembered how Atropos, the eldest, had looked pleadingly at Zeus. You must allow us to undo what Caesar did. This is a world that was not meant to be. The consequences... Well, what did the old hag know anyway.
In that other world, she would still be alive. And he would have -- nothing.
These thoughts must have gone through his mind about a hundred times when he looked into the viewing portal once more and saw that the foolish little thing was no more than ten minutes away from the temple entrance.
He shook his head.
"At least I love her enough to try," she had told him.
Well, he had loved her enough to give up his godhood. And what did he get? "Thank you." And then, a couple of months later, a tender kiss that made him light-headed with the purest happiness he had ever felt ... until she went on to tell him that he was still bad for her, and that his chances of ever being with her were one in a billion.
The memories of those moments washed over him like a warm wave.
All right, damn it all to Tartarus -- you win. As these words flashed through his mind, he wasn't sure if they were addressed to Xena, or to Gabrielle, or to a part of himself.
In the murky cavern of the Fates' Temple, glittering swords clashed, sparks flew, and giant shadows danced on the walls as the Proxidicae battled the intruder. The three women watched, mouths agape. They could never have imagined that of all the Olympian gods, the only one who would finally decide to uphold the law would be the one who had always scorned it the most.
The Proxidicae were no match for the God of War. When the last of them had fallen, Ares came up to the three captive women, slightly out of breath and looking very grim. He used his sword to cut the chains that bound Clotho, the youngest of the three -- the weaver of life's threads -- and said, "Go on, do your job."
The amazement on the women's faces abruptly changed to fright, and he already knew what was happening when a silvery voice behind him said, "Not so fast." He whirled around, swinging his sword -- but Athena was ready for him.
"You've really done it now, bro," she said, in a tone as casual as though he had smashed Hera's favorite vase at a family gathering.
Maybe, he thought, he could hold her off long enough for Clotho to re-weave the threads. But then the shadows moved and two other female figures stepped out into the torchlight -- the huntress Artemis followed by his all-too-frequent partner in crime, Discord. What really got his attention, though, was the object in Discord's right hand. He had seen the weapon before; he and Xena had once held it at each other's throats in one of their less amicable moments. The Dagger of Helios, one of the few things that could kill a god.
The unpleasant surprise put him off his guard long enough for Athena's boot to catch him just above his belt and send him sprawling on his back. Before he could get back up, the two other goddesses were pinning him down and chaining his hands; he felt the blade at his neck, the sharp tip pushing against the skin. That other time, when the weapon had been in Xena's hand, he had felt blind rage, at her and at himself, and many other emotions that he did not even recognize then; but he hadn't really been afraid. Now, he knew that the tight, clammy feeling in his chest and in the back of his neck was fear.
"I'm sure you know what this is, Ares." Discord snickered. "So be a good boy and stay down until we take you in for a chat with your daddy." Swooping down, she licked his ear and ran a long red fingernail across his chest. It made him shudder, and she pouted at him. "Oooh, you don't like this anymore?"
Athena, in the meantime, had refastened Clotho's chains and turned back to him. He had expected to see naked glee in her face; but, along with the usual contempt, he also noticed a tiny shadow of regret.
"We're just doing what we have to do, Ares." She sighed. "I'm afraid you only have yourself to blame."
"For a Goddess of Wisdom," he snapped, the anger coming back, "you're awfully full of platitudes."
"Still cocky, are we? Well, I don't think your attitude will make any difference now, one way or the other."
Just then, out of the corner of an eye, he saw something -- or rather, somebody -- that he had forgotten all about. Gabrielle had finally made her way inside.
The idea that she might save the day, however absurd, wasn't so crazy. If the girl had the sense to hide until the goddesses had left, and he could distract them so that they didn't sense her presence, maybe she could free the Fates later -- at least provided that Athena didn't get more Proxidicae down to the temple right away.
Too late: Artemis was already steadying her bow. Ares managed to twist his body and kick at her ankle, and the arrow of the archer goddess only grazed Gabrielle's arm. In the same instant, he felt a searing pain in his neck.
"Discord, you idiot!" That was Athena, her voice momentarily shaken out of its composure. "You weren't supposed to kill him!"
"I didn't mean to!" the leather-clad goddess gasped in fright. "He jerked his head and -- "
He felt the hot, sticky liquid running down to his chest. So much for immortality... I'm sorry, Xena...
The dimly lit temple was growing even darker before the War God's eyes, but he could still see Gabrielle grab a torch from the wall and sprint toward the loom. Shock over what had happened to her brother had slowed down Artemis for a moment, but her second shot was, as always, perfect. The bard shrieked and fell -- but not before, in one final effort, she raised her hand and flung the torch at the loom. It exploded in a giant fireball as the three Fates screamed shrilly in unison, and everything went black.
Something heavy was pressing down on Ares' chest. He wasn't quite sure if he was dead; if he was, being dead felt uncomfortable but disconcertingly ordinary. He raised his hand, and his fingers sank into a mass of soft shaggy fur. The thing stirred, and he felt a warm wetness on his neck.
Ares sighed.
"Horace. Get off me, you damned mutt."
Life at the farm was back to normal, to the extent that it had ever been normal: burnt food, demeaning domestic tasks, chickens who stubbornly resisted their destiny as his dinner, Greba the neighbor lady's attempts at what she obviously considered conversation. And dreams about Xena -- now often filled with memories of some of the moments he had spent with the Empress.
Sometimes, the former War God cursed his own idiocy. More and more often, however, he wondered if the whole thing had been a dream.
About a week later, while Ares was in the barn trying to milk the cow, he heard voices outside. Almost knocking over the bucket (not that there was much in it anyway), he ran to the door. And there they were, standing next to their horses, waving and smiling. There she was, alive.
Somehow, he was able to walk toward them and not run. But when Xena took his hand and her lips brushed lightly against his, his self-control was gone; he crushed her in his arms and held her tight, burying his face in her hair.
"Ares!"
"I'm ... I'm sorry." He let go of her and stepped back. "I've just missed you, that's all."
She was smiling.
"That's okay... I've missed you too."
He almost asked "You have?" but then realized that it would sound too pathetic.
He glanced at Gabrielle, and it occurred to him that she might have some memories of the other world.
"So, what about you? Anything interesting happen to you lately?"
"Well, you know how it is, Ares." She smiled brightly. "When you hang around Xena, something interesting always happens... Oh hi, Horace!"
Maybe it really had been a dream. And if not, it didn't make any difference. "Well, come on into the house," he said. "Guess what I have for dinner. Chicken."
After tossing and turning for a long time, Ares began to drift off to sleep when he felt somebody shaking him by the shoulder. His heart lurched violently. Finally, it was happening -- she had come to his bed.
Before he could take her in his arms, the oil lamp by the bedside was turned up, and he found himself squinting at --
"Gabrielle? What the -- ?"
She gave him a mischievous little smile.
"I just wanted to tell you it was a rotten thing to do, leaving me at the top of that mountain. But thanks for the catch."
He bolted upright. "You do remember!"
"Everything."
"Damn." He exhaled, falling back on the pillow. "So it wasn't a dream."
After a pause, he asked, "How in Tartarus did you get the idea of torching the Fates' Loom?"
"Well, there wasn't much else I could do at that point," she shrugged.
"Why did you think it would bring back ... all this? It could have just destroyed everything."
"Well, I couldn't be sure," she said. "But you know ... maybe ... it's true that people don't need the gods anymore." (She had almost said "maybe Eli was right," but then glanced at Ares and thought better of it.) "Think about it. Zeus is gone but we still have thunder and lightning ... and Athena's gone and I don't think there's any less wisdom or weaving than there ever was ... and you've lost your powers and that doesn't seem to have made any difference as far as war goes."
"Thanks a lot."
"Well -- so I figured maybe we don't need the Fates anymore, either. We make our own fate -- you know, like Hercules used to say."
Ares rolled his eyes. "If you're going to quote someone..."
"Anyway, it worked."
"Yup."
There was another silence, and then she said, "You know, I've wondered sometimes if we did the right thing. I mean, that was a whole world, and we went and destroyed it."
"The right thing," he repeated slowly, as if trying out the sound of it. " Ask someone who doesn't have to look that up in the dictionary, Gabrielle."
"Well, you know what?" Her smile was bittersweet. "I found out there's something even more important to me than the right thing. Her life."
"Why do I get the feeling you're quoting someone again?"
The bard giggled. "I guess you never saw my hit play."
"Oh, your play. No wonder it sounded so lame."
Ignoring the barb, Gabrielle shook her head. The soft glow of happiness in her face was shadowed with sadness. "Ares ... you gave up your godhood for her a second time, and she doesn't even know it."
He twitched a shoulder. "I guess that's one of those things they call 'ironic.'"
She stared at him for a while, and decided she had to tell him -- it was the least she could do. "She has dreams, though."
"Dreams?" he asked with sudden interest.
"She told me she's been dreaming this whole past week about being Caesar's wife and Empress of Rome, and me being a famous playwright. But" -- she smiled slyly and blushed, turning away -- "I think there's something else that she's not telling me..."
"Ah."
When Gabrielle looked at Ares again, he was grinning wickedly. She thought back to the other night when she awoke at the campsite to hear Xena making soft little sounds in her sleep that left little doubt as to the kind of dream she was having, and then saw her sit up with a gasp, clutching her head and looking a bit shaken. Somehow, Gabrielle felt pretty sure that she hadn't been dreaming about Caesar.
She got up. "I'd better get going."
"Yeah, you'd better."
When she was already at the door, he said, "It'll just be our little secret, right?"
Before they went away the next day, Gabrielle made herself scarce, and Ares was left alone with Xena to say good-bye.
"So, where are you going now?" he asked.
"To Rome, eventually. Eve is there ... I think it's about time I checked up on her."
He nodded. Uninvited, a memory swept over him of the moment when, that first night, he stood facing Xena -- the Empress -- and then felt her body on his naked skin. He had to lean against a post and bite his lip to stop himself from groaning.
He looked at her and noticed the flush on her face.
"You know what I think?" Xena said. "Maybe I ought to start working on getting you back your godhood. This place is a mess. And one of these days you'll kill yourself with your own cooking."
"On the other hand, I could just look for a different occupation."
"Well, you've said it yourself. You're just not very good at this whole mortal thing."
"Maybe now I wouldn't be very good at the whole god thing, either."
The Warrior Princess stared at him, taken aback. "Why do you say that?"
Ares shrugged. "I've just been doing some thinking, that's all."
"That could get to be a nasty habit."
"You pick up a lot of nasty habits when you're mortal."
Xena chuckled softly. "Take good care of yourself, Ares."
She looked at Ares and found herself blushing again, wondering what on earth was the matter with her. She had always had the occasional passionate dream about the God of War, but nothing like these incredibly vivid images that now haunted her nearly every night, in the middle of this other bizarre stuff about Rome and Caesar. Of course, Gabrielle would choose this particular moment to insist that they just had to go see how Ares was doing back on the farm.
Now, he was standing before her in his leather pants, shirtless, the dagger pendant glittering on his bare chest. The wear and tear of mortality, she realized, was taking its toll; there were some wrinkles on his once-perfect face, and a few barely visible streaks of gray in the black hair. And still, as he stared at her with that hopeful look, his eyes eager yet gentle, he looked so vulnerable and so young, almost boyish.
She leaned forward and kissed him. It was meant to be only a kiss good-bye; but somehow, before either knew what was happening, their mouths were melting into each other, the tongues sparring, exploring, caressing, until they both had to come up for air.
When Ares could breathe again, he lifted a hand to touch her face and brushed away a strand of hair. Her hair... he thought of the Empress.
"What's so funny?" she asked.
"Oh ... just about everything."
She looked flustered but not displeased. He leaned in closer and said, "So ... am I still bad for you?"
"Very," Xena said in a low voice, with just a hint of a smile.
He closed his eyes, his lips brushing against her ear. "Tell you what. You come on back sometime and I'll show you just how bad."
She chuckled again and mussed his hair. "Bye, Ares."
She turned around, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun, and walked toward her horse.
"Ready, Gabrielle?" she called out.
When Xena was already in the saddle, the little blonde came up to Ares.
"Well," she said. "It was good to see you again."
She touched his hand and looked up at him, her lips moving in a soundless "Thank you." He nodded slightly, and found himself silently mouthing the same words to her.
The former god sat down on the porch, absently patting his dog on the back, and watched as the women rode away. When they were just two tiny specks in the rich sun-drenched green of the fields, he smiled and said into the warm evening air, "Sweet dreams, Xena. Sweet dreams."
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