Cover Art By Tango

By LadyKate

"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.

The night crawled on and there was no sign of her; and, as he tossed in his bed and slept briefly and uneasily and woke up, he found himself wondering once again if it was worth it, this half-life with her, this humiliation of having to wait for her favors. It was almost dawn when she did show up; and then, he promptly forgot all about it. 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 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 Blondie 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 actually had a 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.”

Even before Ares had caught Xena’s look, he cursed at himself inwardly. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Xena was about to say something; but it was Gabrielle who spoke first.

"Maybe I should have!”

She didn’t scream, didn’t even raise her voice, 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. Gabrielle herself looked terrified. Xena clamped her mouth shut; her hand, which had been moving 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.”

Xena nodded distractedly; after a moment, she looked at Gabrielle and smiled. "Say hello to Virgil for me." She reached up to kiss the girl’s cheek; Ares, looking the other way, caught a whispered, "I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

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 her away.”

"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.

"Don’t even think about it.” There was a harsh edge in her voice.

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 if, his sister would have said.

"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 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?”

"A 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. They stepped outside, into the velvety golden warmth of the evening sun.

"I'm up to it." Ares squinted at the sunlight. "As long as you remember that you shouldn't run me through.”

"If you behave," she said.

* ~ * ~ *

"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 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. Especially not now, when she knew for sure that if Xena had to choose, she’d choose her; that a word from her really was enough to make Xena send Ares away. Not now, not after the night she and Xena had just spent in each other’s arms -- skin pressed to bare skin, Xena’s hands stroking her back, her fingers weaving through Xena’s thick hair, their lips touching softly and almost chastely, until Xena eased her down on her back and stayed still for a moment looking at her, and then dipped down and covered her face with hungry kisses that made her feel the hot tug of desire -- and moments later Xena’s mouth was on her breast and there was nothing else but pure pleasure and love.

Except, when she woke up, it was almost dawn and Xena was gone. She reached over and touched the sheets where Xena’s warmth still lingered; and, as she lay in the near-light, her eyes open, she thought she heard the creak of a door down the hallway.

The memory made her shiver, and Gabrielle jerked her head to snap out of it. Then, glancing down, she realized that the gilded bracelet she wore was the same one she'd had at that bacchanalia in Rome, and this time she felt a flush of shame 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 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. She remembered waking up alone in the pre-dawn gray, and hearing that creak of a door nearby, and wondering for a moment if Xena had gone to her own room, or to his.

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 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. (Had Xena really gone to Ares’ bed that morning after leaving hers? ) 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.

It's about Xena.

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.

* ~ * ~ *

The lilac haze of twilight had almost turned to night when Gabrielle and Virgil came out on the library portico. They were among the last to leave. After the reading, Gabrielle had wanted to talk to Sappho -- who, it turned out, had heard of the Bard of Potadeia and read a couple of her scrolls, which somewhat brightened Gabrielle's mood, though it didn't thrill her to the core as it would have once. Now, she was clutching a precious gift from the Tenth Muse: the scroll with the poem, "Equal to the gods..." She had considered asking Sappho to inscribe it "To Gabrielle and Xena," but hadn’t dared.

The evening's soft breath cooled her bare skin, making her hunch her shoulders. She put the scroll into her satchel and looked up at Virgil. The torch fixed to a column behind him made the air shimmer and the shadows sway, deepening the darkness that veiled his face.

"I'm sorry," she said.

His eyes flickered. "You don't have to apologize.”

"Virgil..." Gabrielle put her hand on his and sighed deeply. "I just want to explain... I love someone else.”

He stared at her intently, leaned a little closer and said, "It's Xena, isn't it...”

Her throat dry, she nodded. There were other people with whom she had more in common, with whom, perhaps, she would have had a better life. But... Why do we love the people we love? We just do. That was what she said to Joxer once...

"Please believe me," she said imploringly. "If things were different -- if I could -- you're the kind of person I'd want to spend my life with.”

When she let go of his hand, Virgil stared down and shifted his feet. He seemed to tense up, as if trying to muster the courage to ask her something. Finally he raised his head.

"I hope" -- he stopped for a moment, as if suddenly out of breath -- "I hope you're happy, Gabrielle.”

She wished the torchlight weren't on her face; she didn't want him to see that she was fighting back tears as she smiled. "We'll always be friends, right?”

"Of course.”

Virgil stooped slightly to hug her, and they stood still for a moment, her chin resting on his shoulder, his large hand pressing warmly against her back.

* ~ * ~ *

Virgil turned and stared after Gabrielle. She had sweetly refused his offer to walk back with her, pointing out that his inn was on the other side of town. By now, her shape was nothing more than a grayish blot that grew smaller until it blended into the night.

The dark, nearly deserted street was lined with lemon trees whose murmurings lingered in the air, their tangy scent mixing with the occasional whiff of chimney smoke and a mercifully faint horsy smell. Virgil walked on, thinking wistfully about Gabrielle. His mind relived once again the moment of their kiss, the frightened tenderness in her eyes before she closed them, the soft uncertain touch of her lips and tongue, the throbbing of his own heart. And then, the moment when he felt her hand go rigid in his... She hadn't meant to toy with him, of that he had no doubt; but his bewilderment lingered. He recalled his chat with the wine merchant who had seen Xena and Gabrielle in Elaea; the woman had seemed quite sure that Xena and her male companion (whose appearance she had described in highly enthusiastic terms) were in love. There was, too, the way Gabrielle had reacted to that poem, with its expression of helpless jealousy in the opening lines... Was her passion for Xena unrequited, perhaps unspoken? Of course, it was possible that the two women were lovers but Xena was attracted to Ares and Gabrielle was worried about it ... though surely Xena was far too honorable to be unfaithful.

So the mystery man was Ares. It made Virgil wince a bit. Gabrielle's scrolls had not formed a flattering image of the War God in his mind; he knew that Ares had killed Eli, and had been Livia's patron when she murdered his father. Then again, Ares had given up his godhood to save Gabrielle and Eve, apparently out of love for Xena. There were things Virgil knew he'd never understand. He just hoped Gabrielle wouldn't get hurt.

Back there outside the library, he had almost asked Gabrielle what was actually going on between her and Xena; but he was glad he hadn't. Perhaps, if things weren't well... no, whatever the women's relationship was, it wouldn't be right for him to get between them. Gabrielle had to sort it out, and if the time was ever right, she would come to him. For now, her heart obviously belonged to Xena.

Virgil's chest and throat tightened with a quick wrench of pain. Some time after his father's death, the realization had hit him that Joxer had been deeply, hopelessly in love with Gabrielle. Maybe it was a family curse, Virgil thought with a wry chuckle.

Heaven only knew when he'd see her again. Tomorrow, he would be leaving Megara and moving on to Corinth, to take more of his scrolls to the vendors there. He had almost forgotten that he had to stop by the library again in the morning and deliver a copy to them; the head librarian had been interested, and it was certainly an honor.

He hoped that Gabrielle would like his poem, and that he'd have a chance to discuss it with her sometime. What a wonderful life it would have been, to show her what he'd written at the end of each day, to be the first to read her new scrolls. Maybe there was still a chance... But it was best to accept that this wasn't going to happen; best for both of them, and for their friendship.

In his room at the inn, packing his modest belongings for the next day's journey, Virgil thought of his father again. Yes, Joxer had loved Gabrielle his whole life; yet he had married Meg, and all in all they had been happy together -- in spite of their bickering, in spite of the quiet longing that Virgil had sometimes noticed in his father's face when Joxer was looking at Gabrielle's scrolls or at some of the memorabilia in the tavern. Gabrielle wasn't the kind of woman one got over. But life would go on.

As he climbed into the too-narrow bed and rested his head on the pillow, the tears came without warning. He wasn't sure if he was crying over his father -- God, I miss you, Dad -- or over Gabrielle. After a short while he wiped his face and took a few deep breaths. He would be all right. He hoped Gabrielle would be, too.

* ~ * ~ *

The small brass statue over the inn's entrance, lit by two sputtering torches on the sides of the door, advertised the name of the establishment: The Huntress and the Hound. Both hound and huntress grinned evilly at Gabrielle -- or so the wavering shadows and the reflected gleam of the torchlight made it look. Gabrielle shivered, wishing she could laugh at herself. In the dark, lost in her sad thoughts, it was a wonder she'd actually made it back to the inn. As she pushed the creaky door, the flesh-and-blood hound dozing by the threshold opened a lazy, glittering yellow eye at her.

The door snapped shut behind her as she stepped into the stale air of the inn. She felt tired and drained. The smell of food drifted her way from the still-open tavern. Maybe she would feel better if she ate something. Besides, she wasn't ready to face Xena just yet.

A short while later Gabrielle sat at a table, poking distractedly at her vegetable stew. The whole way back from the library, nearly an hour's walk, she had felt sick with misery. She had acted like a cheap tease toward a good, caring, loyal friend -- only to realize with a terrifying finality that there was no one for her but Xena, there couldn't be anyone else. And where did that leave her? She had tried to think of some solution, and kept stumbling into the same answer: There was no way out -- not unless Xena chose to send Ares away, unless it was her decision ... and even if Xena did make that choice but only as a sacrifice for her, how much of a solution would it be?

Now, she thought back to the day her life changed -- that day on the farm when she went to try to get Ares' dog back, and something happened while she was gone, and then Ares stormed off to drown his sorrows in wine. Drown his sorrows in wine... For the first time, Gabrielle understood why people could want to get away from themselves so much that they would do that.

The serving girl stopped at her table and asked irritably, "Anything to drink?”

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 she had left Gabrielle that morning to go to Ares. She had almost resolved to stay away; only she knew that she had nearly lost him, that he was waiting for her, that he had been hurt and scared and angry -- that one of those days she would lose him; and knowing all that, she could not deny him this one hour before daylight -- couldn’t deny herself. So, instead of going back to her own bed, she went to his; and when he pressed into her and covered her face and neck with wild kisses, 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, 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."