By LadyKate

This time, when Xena arrived at Alcibiades' camp, it was inconspicuously and late at night, when most of the men were already sleeping.

The morning after her conversation with Ares, she had told Gabrielle she wanted to head to Abdera to see what Alcibiades was up to. Gabrielle hadn't seemed particularly startled by that, or by Xena's announcement that she had to make a trip to Alcibiades' camp alone. It made Xena queasy, keeping her in the dark like this -- but there was no other choice.

It would just be one campaign. Against Rome.

She had meant to talk to Phaleron first. However, when she told one of the guards on night duty who she was and whose tent she was looking for, the man gave her a nervous glance and said, "My lord Alcibiades wishes to see you."

She lifted an eyebrow. "He knows I'm here?"

The man licked his lips.

"He had to bring you to see him immediately if you turned up at the camp, even if you asked for Phaleron."

Xena frowned; she did not like it when people anticipated her next move.

"All right," she said in a casual tone.

When she was ushered into Alcibiades' tent, the Macedonian rose to greet her. His thin lips were parted slightly in a self-satisfied smile.

"Xena. I figured I'd get your attention."

She gave him the glacial stare that few people, or gods, were able to meet without flinching. His narrow smile broke into a frank sneer.

"To tell you the truth, I don't really give a damn about the pitiful leftovers of the Amazon nation. But I know you do."

The meaning of his words hit her, and she felt the rage burning in her throat. She said nothing, letting him continue.

"Did you think you'd get away with it, Xena?"Alcibiades' voice was rising. "Did you think I'd want to be at the head of an army that I command only by your kind permission?"

"Well, then I have good news for you." Her lip curled in contempt. "My permission is revoked."

He gave a short, edgy laugh that sounded almost like a shriek.

"Oh no, Xena. That won't do. You think you can just walk in here and take my toys away because I've been bad?"

"I fought you and I won," she said evenly.

"Well, you'll have to fight for it again." His hand rested on the hilt of his sword. "Think of it as a rematch. And maybe this time, you won't be so lucky."

"Sorry, Alcibiades. Not in the mood."

"Really? Well, how about this for foreplay?" In a flash, his sword was pointed at her chest.

"You don't want to do this," Xena said, her voice heavy with futility.

"Oh, I do," he scoffed. "You don't want to do this, but you'll have to. Don't even think about getting Phaleron involved. You'll have to go through me to get out of this tent. Unless you want to run to Ares for help."

She stepped back with a sigh and drew her sword.

Alcibiades had evidently instructed the guards outside the tent to stay out no matter what. The clashing of the blades did not bring anyone running; neither did the even louder clatter when he knocked over the mahogany table to clear the space and it smashed into an amphora in the corner, making shards of clay fly and crimson wine spill on the rug that covered the ground. It was the dance she knew so well: parry -- thrust -- block -- spin -- kick. Alcibiades was good, very good, and the confines of the tent left no room for the high-flying leaps that were among Xena's strongest moves -- which, she realized, might have been why he'd backed her into fighting right there on the spot. But she also saw that her opponent hadn't learned from his mistake the last time: he was still overconfident, and when he didn't succeed, still letting anger interfere with his focus.

There were more spins and kicks and thrusts, and more property damage as a tripod with an ornate multicolored glass bowl on it flew and crashed. Then, Xena dove down and flipped over her head, and while Alcibiades was still figuring out what she was doing, she clamped her feet on the blade of his sword. Another flip yanked the weapon out of his hands and flung it away -- and in the next second, she was leaning on her own sword to kick out her legs and slam her boots into his chest.

Alcibiades was down now, blood and sweat trickling down his fine-featured face, eyes glittering with hatred. She saw his hand reach toward his belt and go up; fully in control now, she snatched the dagger as it whizzed toward her.

"Alcibiades." She forced her raspy voice to a gentleness she didn't feel. "Give it up. It's not too late."

He stared at her, panting, seemingly considering her offer. Then, with a speed and grace that surprised her, he rolled over toward his bed in the corner, swept away a heap of pillows, and rose holding a shortsword he had apparently hidden there for the occasion.

Before he could make his move, she swung again.

He stayed on his feet too long as the blood gushed down from his neck with a sickening gurgling sound, swaying a little, his eyes fixed on her. Finally he fell, and the scarlet liquid began to spread, darkening his ash-blond curls, seeping into the rug the spilled wine had stained before.

Xena looked at the dripping sword in her hand, which suddenly felt much too heavy, and then at Alcibiades again. A memory rolled over her, leaving a bitter taste of ashes in her mouth.

"It didn't have to end this way," she whispered, echoing the voice in her head, as she watched the life dimming in his eyes.

She was sure that, had he been able to speak, his last words would have been, "Oh yes, it did."

* ~ * ~ *

When Phaleron arrived, fetched by a guard at Xena's request, he did not seem particularly saddened -- or surprised -- to see Alcibiades dead.

"He was a brave warrior." The priest of Ares shook his head. "But he was rash."

"I didn't want to kill him," Xena said pensively, more to herself than to Phaleron. He glanced at her, his dark eyes momentarily animated.

"When Alcibiades would not cede the army to you, he defied the will of Ares. You did the right thing."

There was clearly no point in arguing with that.

"Would you make arrangements for the funeral?" she asked wearily, before remembering that she was now in a position to issue orders.

"I shall, my lady." He bowed his head.

When the two soldiers who had come in with the warrior priest had picked up Alcibiades' body and taken it away, Phaleron turned to Xena and asked, "Will you be staying here in this tent?"

Stay in this tent, where she could still smell her dead adversary's blood ... sleep on the bedding where he had reclined less than an hour ago? There was a time when she would not have flinched at the suggestion... Xena felt slight nausea rise to her throat, and then she had another feeling, an unfamiliar and uncomfortable one -- a tug of fear that she might have gotten into something she wouldn't be able to handle.

"No," she said quietly.

"Very well," said Phaleron. "I shall have the men put up a new tent for you, though I'm afraid that, on such short notice, it may have to be much too modest."

"That doesn't matter. I won't be staying at camp tonight anyway. "

Phaleron gave her a visibly disapproving look.

"My lady -- ?"

"I'm going back to my lodgings in town," she said. "There's something I need to do." Break Gabrielle's heart.

"All right, but you should ride with an escort --"

"No," Xena said, turning her icy glare on him. "I'll take care of this on my own, Phaleron."

"As you wish." There was an irritating hint of displeasure in his outwardly deferential tone. It was too much -- too soon.

"Phaleron," she said in a silky voice that bode ill for its recipient. "Remember one thing."

He looked at her expectantly.

"I may serve Ares at the moment, but that doesn't mean I take orders from his priest."

The smugness in the priest's face changed to shock, then deliberate incomprehension, and then sullen resentment.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, my lady. I am at your command."

"Good." She gave him a bright smile. "Then we understand each other. Have that other tent ready when I'm back."

Xena headed toward the exit, and nearly collided with the guard who was lifting the flap of the tent. He blinked at her, a bit dazed, obviously still taking in the news of the change in command.

"My lady -- sorry to disturb you, but there's a young woman who says she has to see you..."

No.

The soldier gave her a curious if nervous look; something of the turmoil she felt must have shown in her face.

"Let her in," she said steadily. "And leave us alone." She glanced at Phaleron to make sure that he knew the last part applied to him, too.

"My lady." Phaleron bowed his head and followed the soldier outside.

Gabrielle walked into the tent.

She stopped. Most of her remained in the shadows, except where the light from an oil lamp fell on a part of her face, making it glow in a golden haze.

"Xena..." she breathed out.

"Gabrielle..."

Suddenly, the bard's voice was strong and almost harsh.

"When were you going to tell me?"

Xena chuckled ruefully.

"I was headed back to the inn just now."

She wasn't sure if the glitter in Gabrielle's eyes was from the shimmering light or from unshed tears.

"Xena ... why?"

"I've thought about it. I think it's the right thing to do."

I know you'll always do the right thing, Xena... Unbidden, those words echoed in her mind -- the words Gabrielle had said to her the morning she went off to her first fight with Alcibiades.

"Leading Ares' army?"

"Against the Roman Empire." There was a catch in her voice that she hoped Gabrielle would take for excitement. "It's a chance to do something for Greece."

"And for the greater good?"

Xena was startled by her bitter, almost caustic tone.

"Yes."

"Are you sure it doesn't have anything to do with this?"

Stepping forward into the light, Gabrielle raised her hand. She was holding a parchment.

"It's a message from Cyane. Delivered this evening, after you had left. Do I need to tell you what it says?"

Xena slowly shook her head.

"Alcibiades..."

"You knew that if he went after the Amazons, I'd have to get involved." She met Xena's mute gaze. "Xena, you can't keep protecting me forever."

"You sound like Eve," Xena blurted out -- and almost gasped as another realization came over her. "I was never able to protect either of you, was I ..."

"Why does it all have to be your responsibility?" Gabrielle said softly. It was almost easier to deal with her bitterness than with this agonized tenderness. "You know you've always done everything for Eve that you could possibly do. As for me ... I don't need your protection, not anymore."

"Oh, Gabrielle." Xena walked slowly toward her. "It's not because I doubt you as a warrior. Remember what you said -- with each battle..."

"I lose more of myself," Gabrielle finished in a near-whisper.

"I just don't want to see that happen again.... not if there's something I can do about it."

For a few moments they faced each other silently. Then, Gabrielle said, "Xena, when you started -- when you first got together with him -- you told me you weren't going to join him or serve him."

"I'm not serving him. I'm leading an army for him in one campaign and that's it. I promise you." She reached out and squeezed the bard's hand.

"Xena ..." Gabrielle's mouth quivered. "All those times when Ares tried to turn you back into what you used to be..."

"You actually think he's still trying to do that?"

"Maybe not. But once you're with him as his warrior ... with all that power ... are you sure you can handle it?" She looked down, struggling to get the words out. "I've helped you pull back from the darkness before. I'm not sure I can do it now."

Gently, Xena touched Gabrielle's chin and lifted her face.

"You don't need to protect me. Not anymore."

"I couldn't stand it if you lost yourself for me," said Gabrielle.

Xena took a step back and folded her arms. Her eyes were stinging, and it was much too stuffy in the tent.

"I'll be fine," she said. "Like it or not, what's done is done. I knew the terms when I challenged Alcibiades. It's too late to back off."

"There's always a way out, Xena. I've learned that from you."

"And we're going to be okay. Just trust me. Please?"

The bard sighed.

"If this is what you have to do, then my place is with you. Fighting by your side."

"No!" The force of her cry seemed to throw them apart. Then Xena repeated more gently, "No. This isn't your fight."

"It is now."

"I don't want you fighting in this war."

"What do you want me to do, then? Go pick some berries while you play Warrior Queen?"

The air between them was heavy with tension, and Xena actually felt relieved when Phaleron's muffled voice came from outside.

"My lady?"

"Yes?"

"The other tent is ready."

"Good. Come in here, Phaleron." As he entered, she motioned toward Gabrielle. "This is Gabrielle of Potadeia, who wishes to serve in my army. As priest of Ares and my second in command, I want you to witness her oath."

Gabrielle stared at her.

"You want an oath of loyalty from me?"

"Not of loyalty." Xena's voice softened but only for a moment. "Of obedience."

She nearly broke down when she saw the look on Gabrielle's face -- so earnest, so wounded, so passionate. But this had to be done.

"All right," Gabrielle said quietly. She took a step back.

"Do you swear that, as long as you serve in the army I command, you will faithfully follow and obey my orders?"

She closed her eyes and bowed her head.

"I will."

"Swear it. On your honor as an Amazon queen."

"I swear, on my honor as an Amazon queen." A hollow echo spoke Xena's own words back to her.

"In the name of Ares," Phaleron said drily, "I witness this oath."

"Good," Xena said. "I have your assignment, Gabrielle. You are now the official scribe for this army."

Gabrielle gaped in disbelief.

"Official what?"

"Scribe. Keeper of chronicles. Oh, and you are expressly ordered not to take part in the fighting. You are much too valuable on the job."

"Xena -- "

"You're not about to argue with your commander, are you? Not after you've just taken your oath?" She saw the desperate plea in Gabrielle's eyes and nodded to the priest. "Go outside, Phaleron. I'll follow you in a minute."

When he was gone, she put her hands on Gabrielle's shoulders.

"I'm sorry... I had to do this. For you. For us." She forced herself to look Gabrielle in the face, and knew that she was the one pleading. "Maybe this is the best thing for you. Take the knowledge you've gained of the warrior's way, and put it to use as a bard."

"So you get to decide what's best for me."

"Gabrielle... when you gave up the Way of Love because of me, you said you chose the Way of Friendship. Remember?" She smiled, holding back tears, and lightly stroked Gabrielle's cheek with the back of her hand. "Well ... this is my way of friendship."

* ~ * ~ *

The sun stood high in the harsh blue canopy of the sky, battering the camp, making the throngs of soldiers look like a glittering sea of armor and leather -- a gleam so bright that it would no doubt have been painful to the eyes if Ares' eyes had been mortal.

It was hard to believe that this was happening, that he was once again seeing Xena like this, not just as a warrior but as a leader of warriors. Alcibiades' officers had just sworn their allegiance to her, and now the soldiers, their hair damp and their skin slick with sweat in the sweltering sun, cheered and chanted her name. The sound of it gave him a thrill almost as intense as the one he felt when his own named was called out by warriors and worshipers. Just like in the old days ... except that, back then, she felt the same thrill and he knew it, even if she remained outwardly impassive. Now, she was merely enduring this moment. Occasionally, she would glance almost timidly at Gabrielle, who stood apart from the officers, her face drawn and careworn. Ares remained invisible, but a couple of times Xena looked in his direction too, with an expression he couldn't quite read.

Then, for just a moment, her eyes glittered and he knew that she was feeling it too, and his body responded with such violent yearning that he had to fight the urge to whisk her away right then.

When the cheers had died down, she held up her hand and stared ahead, squinting at the sun. Then she spoke, her voice strong and resonant.

"In two days, we march against Rome."

Again, a chorus of thousands roared its approval, the wave of sound rising and crashing over the soldiers' heads. This time, Xena did not wait for the cheering to stop; she lowered her hand, nodded curtly to the officers and walked back to her tent.

There was hushed muttering in the ranks; the soldiers were evidently somewhat nonplused by their new leader's abrupt departure. Phaleron frowned slightly and stepped forward to dismiss them.

Ares lingered a moment before following Xena inside. By now, his desire had simmered down, and there was a certain pleasure in postponing its fulfilment. He flashed into view just as she sat down on a bench and started to take off her boots. She stopped and looked up at him. That gleam in her eyes was gone now, and he knew what he had seen there before -- not even sadness but ... disappointment?

"Xena." He reached out, lightly stroking her cheek with the back of his hand.

She rose to face him, and Ares had the unnerving feeling that something between them was missing, lost.

He drew her close, and her lips were warm and pliant as she received his kiss.

"Let me take you somewhere," he whispered, pulling away.

One side of her mouth twitched into a wry, sad half-smile.

"I don't know, Ares. Maybe it's not such a good idea to sleep with my boss."

"Funny." He brushed a strand of hair, damp with sweat, away from her face.

"It wasn't supposed to be."

Ares let go of her with an exasperated sigh.

"Xena -- you don't have to do this."

"I knew what I was getting into when I took on Alcibiades. A deal's a deal."

The War God winced.

"Don't." He brushed his finger against her lips. "It doesn't have to be like that between us ... not anymore."

"Now you have everything you've ever wanted, don't you," she said. "Me at the head in your army -- and in your bed."

With his memory sharpened by his powers, the day she had come to his temple in Amphipolis nearly thirty years ago was fresh in Ares' mind. I'm offering you everything you ever wanted. My sword, and the body that wields it. Take it. She had lied to him then -- after he'd given her no other choice.

The vague dread lurking in the back of his mind grew stronger, and he felt as if he had broken something fragile that couldn't be repaired ... but he hadn't really done anything, had he? The only thing he knew for sure was that he wanted -- needed to make love to her, to have her in his arms...

Xena touched his hand.

"Ares," she said softly. "Let's go."

In the next moment they were in the bedroom at the Thracian fortress, where, at his will, the oil lamps stirred and flames leaped in the hearth; but this time he undressed her with his hands as a mortal would, pausing to kiss and caress the exposed skin.

Later, he held her in his arms and wondered why, for the first time, their lovemaking had left him unsatisfied. He desired her more ardently than ever, and after the initial awkwardness she had responded fully to his passion. But there was that same feeling again, the feeling that something was missing.

Everything he had ever wanted...

Maybe she just needed time to get used to this.

Maybe he did.

* ~ * ~ *

Gabrielle pushed away the scroll and the quill and rubbed her eyes, staring at the single sentence she had managed to write in the last hour: "In the month of Boedromion, on the third day, Xena's army entered the city of Skodra at sundown. " She had crossed out "Xena's army" and replaced it with "Ares' army," then with "the army of Ares and Xena," then stared at the parchment for a while, and finally gone back to the original.

The third of Boedromion... so it had been about a month since Xena's troops had crossed the Macedonian border into the Roman province of Illyricum and taken Skodra, once the capital of the independent Illyria. After that, the army had easily swept through half of the province; the Roman forces stationed there to control the locals were unprepared for a real war, and had quickly retreated under the onslaught of a superior military force.

Now, with reinforcements sent from Rome under the command of General Quintilius Gallo, they had gathered in the coastal city of Salonae, the seat of the colonial Roman administration. Low-walled and unfortified, with a population whose loyalty to Rome was questionable at best, Salonae was in no shape to withstand a siege. The negotiations for surrender had collapsed, and scouts had reported that Gallo was planning to take his three legions out into the open field the next morning to meet Xena's army in battle.

Gabrielle sighed and got up. Without much hope for success, she was going try it once more: ask Xena to reverse her order and let her fight. She walked out into the cool evening air, heading toward Xena's tent. As dusk enveloped the camp in a bluish-grey haze, torches and bonfires were flaring up. Everything bustled with activity in preparation for the big day.

"Hey, Gabby!"

She turned around to see Mykillos, a lieutenant who had pestered her on several occasions with what was obviously intended as flirting. He sat by a fire with half a dozen other officers.

"Come over and read us a poem!" he called out, somehow managing to make it sound like a crude invitation.

"Come on, Mykillos," said one of the men. "Your turn."

Just as she was about to move on, Gabrielle noticed a target pinned to the trunk of a tree a few feet from the fire, with four daggers lodged in it. The man who had spoken to Mykillos rose, walked up to the tree and yanked out the knives.

Her interest piqued, she came closer.

"What are you doing?"

"Who's this?" asked the lone woman officer in the group, looking her over none too amicably.

"What, Berenice, you don't know?" said Mykillos. "Gabrielle, Xena's scribe. Famous bard, right, Gabby?"

Gabrielle narrowed her eyes at the lieutenant with a contemptuous little sniff.

"Oh no," a burly man with a shaggy red beard gasped in mock horror. "You've done it. She's going to read us a poem."

"Hey, Mykillos," said Berenice, "you wanna charm the ladies or you wanna throw the daggers?"

"All right, all right." Mykillos scrambled to his feet and picked up the knives.

"Wait a minute," Gabrielle said sweetly. "Having a contest?"

She wasn't sure what was goading her on. Maybe she just wanted to boost her self-confidence before seeing Xena ... and to help herself brace for the moment when Xena would almost inevitably turn down her request.

"We are," Mykillos said. "Wanna cheer me on?"

"Actually, I want to play. I mean, I want to be in the contest," Gabrielle added hastily, hoping that the officers hadn't seen her blush.

"Oh please," snorted Berenice. "We're playing with daggers, not quills, Miss Famous Bard."

When the guffaws had died down, Gabrielle said, "I have some experience with daggers."

"Yeah, probably about as much as Mykillos here does with the ladies," said the man with the red beard, setting off a new round of laughs.

"Up yours, Timon," grunted Mykillos. "Hey, Gabby, I'll play with you anytime. So, what do you want to wager?"

"A scroll!" Berenice snickered.

"Um ... five dinars?"

"No, no," the lieutenant said with a leer. "Let's make it something more interesting. Say ... how about ... your top?" He gestured, just in case she hadn't gotten it.

Gabrielle shot him a disgusted glance. "I don't think it's your size."

"It'll look nice hanging in my tent as a souvenir," said Mykillos.

Timon shook his head.

"Mykillos, you idiot. She's Xena's friend. Xena finds out about this and you can kiss your balls good-bye."

The bard glanced sideways at the men, wondering if she had enough confidence in her skills to make this wager.

"Okay," she said, rather shocked at herself. "My top..." -- she had a sudden idea -- "against your sword, Mykillos."

"My sword? Are you nuts?"

"She means the one at your side," said Berenice.

"What do you want to do with it, sharpen your quills? Oh all right, let's do it."

Grinning broadly, Mykillos handed two of the daggers to Gabrielle. Then, he planted his feet wide apart at the line drawn in the ground, took aim, and threw the knives. There were two dull thuds as they hit the target, quite close to the center. He turned to Gabrielle with a bow of mock gallantry.

"Give the girl a break, Mykillos," said one of the officers. "Let her take a couple of extra paces."

Ignoring the remark, Gabrielle took her position at the line and focused, raising her arm. The daggers slashed through the darkening air tinted by firelight.

Bull's-eye.

She breathed a small sigh of relief. After a brief pause, the officers clapped and cheered, and she took a measure of satisfaction in the disbelieving and indignant look on Mykillos' face.

"Hand it over," she said, smirking.

Muttering a curse, Mykillos unhooked the sword from his belt and shoved it in her hands.

"Want to go another round?" asked Berenice, clearly impressed.

Gabrielle shook her head. "Maybe some other time."

In a ridiculously better mood (as if she needed to prove to herself that she was still a capable warrior!), she returned with her trophy to her tent. Then, she was back on her way to see Xena.

Some minutes later, Gabrielle pushed aside the flap of Xena's tent, walked in and froze in her tracks.

In the corner of the nearly bare tent, where hardly anything remained of Alcibiades' furnishings except a mahogany table, a couple of chairs and a few lamps, Xena and Ares lay together reclining on pelts and pillows -- she in her leather tunic, leaning back against his chest; he with his vest, belt and gauntlets off, his arms wrapped around her, his cheek pressed to the top of her head. Their eyes were closed, but Gabrielle was stunned by the look on their faces -- a wistful tenderness, as if they knew that this moment would be over too soon and yet were desperate to hold on to it. She watched, mesmerized, as Xena put her hand over Ares' and squeezed it lightly while his other hand stroked her hair, his fingers running gently through its dark strands.

Gabrielle felt embarrassed, resentful and moved all at once. She was about to get out and leave them alone when Ares' eyelids flickered half-open. It was only an instant before the softness was gone from his eyes, giving way to annoyance and then to the familiar sarcastic glint.

"Here comes the scribe," he said, sitting up and dislodging Xena from his chest.

Xena flinched and opened her eyes, casting an anxious look at Gabrielle.

"I could -- uh -- come back later," Gabrielle said.

"No, no. Come in," Xena said quickly.

Ares unhurriedly put on his vest and gauntlets -- the mortal way, Gabrielle noted -- and rose.

"Xena," she said uncomfortably, "could we talk ... alone?"

"Don't you take the prize for subtle hints," Ares said, buckling his belt. Before she could answer anything, he had vanished with the usual flare of blue light, but something -- maybe the amused sparkle that peeked through the sadness in Xena's eyes -- told her he hadn't really left. With a quick motion, she pulled a sai from one of her boots and sent it flying at the spot where he had last stood. It swished unimpeded through the air before crashing into a bowl of fruit that stood on a tripod by the wall and knocking it over.

"Gabrielle? What in Tartarus was that?"

"Sorry... I thought he was still here."

"He is," Ares' mocking voice said behind her. "Right instinct. Wrong direction."

Gabrielle rolled her eyes and thought of throwing her other dagger at him but figured that he would just move to some other spot and make her look ridiculous again. She glanced questioningly at Xena.

"He's gone."

"I'm sorry I interrupted you."

"It's okay."

She came closer and sat down on the pelt next to Xena. They were silent for a few moments, and Gabrielle wondered if they had talked, really talked, even once in all those weeks since Xena took command of Ares' army. How could they, really, when there was so much to avoid?

"So, what have you been doing?" Xena asked.

"Oh, the usual. The bard thing." Even the light-hearted banter now seemed more like a clumsy attempt at a distraction. Gabrielle thought of telling Xena about the dagger-throwing contest, but then it occurred to her that Xena would make her give up the sword she had won from Mykillos. She wanted to keep it, just in case.

"I miss having you around," Xena said suddenly, her voice soft, almost timid.

"Me too."

In the next moment they were holding each other, and, very briefly, it was as if they didn't need to talk. Then, Xena pulled back and asked, "You wanted to speak to me about something?"

"Xena..." She took a deep breath. "Please let me fight tomorrow. I can't -- "

"No." Xena pressed a finger to her lips and shook her head. "No, Gabrielle. We've been over this. You are not fighting in this war."

She held Gabrielle's hands, and her touch was warm and gentle as always, but this time it wasn't enough.

* ~ * ~ *

From the top of the hill, one got a clear view of the two armies marching across the plain, the distance between them closing inexorably: the Greeks on one side, the Romans on the other.

Gabrielle watched, shivering a bit in the morning breeze. Down there was Xena, riding at the head of her troops -- still in her old armor and leathers, only instead of Argo, whom she never took into battle, she rode a sleek wild-maned black steed.

As the first rays of the sun fell on the plain, Gabrielle peered into the distance. There, behind the Roman legions, the city lay awake under the pale sky; further west, the sea dissolved into a whitish haze.

The Romans were clearly desperate; in the middle of the night, a small band of them had tried to set fire to Xena's camp in a sneak attack that was quickly repelled. Now, just as expected, Quintilius Gallo had led his legions out of the city gates for a battle in the open field.

Xena was down there ... and Gabrielle was up here on the hill, with a group of other non-combatants -- medics and armorers, a few officers from the reserve divisions that stayed in the camp behind them, and Phaleron, who had injured his sword arm in the skirmish the other night and was forced to sit this one out.

The two armies were now no more than two hundred yards apart.

There was another gust of wind; the bard picked up a cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders, thinking of their conversation the night before, of the way Xena had avoided her eyes most of the time. Not for the first time, she asked herself how they had they come to this. Was it Ares' fault, or Xena's ... or hers? Maybe she should have never let Xena see how much the fighting and the killing was tearing her up inside. Maybe she should have never let her loyalty to the Amazons come before their bond. Maybe she should have tried to get Xena away from Ares before it was too late.

A blast of noise rose from the plain as the armies clashed, and for just a moment Gabrielle closed her eyes.

Maybe it wasn't really that bad. So Xena was leading an army now, but was it that different from what she did as a lone warrior? Maybe she was wrong not to trust Xena, after all those years, to do the right thing. Maybe she wasn't really concerned about what was best for Xena, just resentful -- jealous -- because she wasn't fighting at Xena's side ... and because when Xena was out there fighting, she belonged to Ares much more completely than she ever did in bed.

Gabrielle flinched and opened her eyes.

... Before long, the outnumbered Romans began to retreat, Xena's army pushing them back toward the main city gates. Gabrielle felt a vague anxiety. She was reminded of something -- the time when she and Xena looked down from a mountain ledge as Alcibiades' troops battled the armies of two warlords in Thessaly, and when the luck of the battle nearly turned against Alcibiades due to a surprise attack by a large contingent of the warlords' men who had been hiding in the woods.

"Phaleron," she said. "Do you think the Romans are retreating a little ... too easily?"

The priest of Ares shrugged, his eyes still on the field. "What, pray, is that supposed to mean?"

"What if there's a trap somewhere? What if they have more soldiers lying in wait?"

"There are three legions out there in the field." Phaleron spared her a disdainful glance. "We know from our scouts that the Romans don't have any more troops in the city."

The Romans were beginning to disperse; it seemed that in a matter of minutes now, Xena's forces would be at the gates. Then, slowly, the gates swung open -- and it happened: throngs of warriors streamed out, on horseback and on foot, charging into the fray. Gabrielle looked on, dazed, feeling trapped in a nightmare she couldn't stop. And there were still more Romans, coming from one of the side gates and attacking the left flank of Xena's army. The clouds of dust rising over the field made it hard to tell exactly what was happening, except that the battle was clearly raging with renewed vigor.

"Impossible!" For once, Phaleron's voice quavered. "They had no reserves!"

"Reinforcements must have come in." That was Pelopidas, one of the senior officers.

"Impossible," Phaleron repeated, somewhat less emphatically. "We had sentries watching all the roads into the city!"

"Maybe they came in by sea," said Pelopidas.

The warrior priest snorted. "Unnoticed?"

To Gabrielle, their voices seemed to come in from a great distance -- but sudden realization still hit her.

"The attack on the camp!"

"What about it?" Pelopidas asked. But Phaleron's eyes widened slightly in understanding, and for once he looked at the bard with something resembling respect.

"A diversion," he said thoughtfully. "They distracted us by setting fire to the camp, long enough for their boats to get into port. Very clever indeed. Very -- "

"Who cares how they got here," Gabrielle interrupted. "They're here, and they're attacking. We have to send in more soldiers."

" You're a scribe, not an officer, Gabrielle."

They glared at each other, she with exasperation, he with barely disguised hostility. When Gabrielle turned back to the field, she saw that three cavalrymen had separated themselves from the seething, battling mass of humanity and were racing toward the hill. One of them abruptly lurched forward and fell, struck down by an arrow or a spear -- it was too far to see. His horse reared up in fright, then dashed after the other two riders, dragging the dead man behind it with his foot caught in the stirrup; after a while, it made a sharp curve and galloped off toward the woods on the edge of the plain.

"We're sending in more men," Phaleron said. "Pelopidas, go get them ready."

Gabrielle let out her breath as the officer turned and walked back to the camp.

The two horsemen, now almost at the foot of the hill, were waving frantically. She fought the impulse to race toward them -- she wasn't sure her feet would carry her, anyway -- and instead waited and watched them make their way up, feeling as though she were enveloped in some invisible but dense fog.

"What's happening?" Phaleron asked as the first man to reach them halted his horse.

"It's ... not good, my lord." The man paused, catching his breath. "Lysander and Mnester are dead ... about two hundred of our men have been cut off by the Romans and cornered by the city walls ... and ... Xena is with them."

The fog cleared, and Gabrielle knew with perfect clarity what she had to do. Her legs were steady now as she turned and bolted toward the camp.

"Just a minute." Phaleron's hand clamped down on her arm. "Where are you going?"

"To get my horse and my sword. I'm going in."

"No, you're not. You're a scribe. Xena forbade you to go into battle. You took an oath." She tried to free herself but, even with his left hand, the priest of Ares was able to maintain a strong grip. "On your honor as an Amazon queen."

That gave her pause, but only for a moment. No, she would never again let her duties as an Amazon come between her and Xena.

"An Amazon queen doesn't sit out a battle when her friend needs her," she said. "Let go."

"You don't even have any armor."

"That never stopped me before."

"Do they even make armor in her size?" guffawed Phaleron's aide, Cotys, who stood nearby. "Oh, wait -- maybe for kids at the training academy."

While he was snickering at his own joke, Gabrielle wrenched her arm from Phaleron's grasp, whirled around and kicked Cotys' legs out from under him. He sprawled backwards, a stunned and indignant look on his round face. Now it was some of the others who laughed -- Cotys wasn't too popular -- but Gabrielle barely heard it. Before Phaleron could say anything else, she sprinted back to her tent.

Some minutes later, armed and on horseback, she caught up with Pelopidas on the hilltop as he was taking the reinforcements, cavalry and infantry, out into the field. The officer, one of the few with whom she'd gotten to be friendly, shot her a surprised look.

"Gabrielle? I thought -- "

"There's no time to think."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Phaleron making his way toward her, shouting something. She spurred on her horse, racing ahead of Pelopidas, and he sped up too. They galloped toward the battlefield side by side without another word .

All of Gabrielle's mind had knotted into a single thought -- -- but then, another idea shot through her head. Wouldn't Ares come to Xena's aid if she was really in trouble? With a shock, she realized that she didn't know. Ares had his principles, and one of them, apparently, was that he didn't bail out his chosen warriors; they were supposed to be good enough to take care of themselves. Would he bend those rules for Xena? Maybe ... but the bottom line was that she couldn't count on Ares. Her lips tight, she gave the horse another kick in the sides and heard it neigh in alarm.

They had almost reached the battleground when there was a low whistling sound, and several blurry grey streaks cut through the air. Then another sound came, followed by a startled outcry behind her. She turned to see Pelopidas sway in the saddle, his hands going toward his throat where a barbed arrow was sticking out, and then slump and crumple heavily to the ground. Her eyes fell on droplets of blood on her knee, and her mind registered the fact that another arrow had grazed her arm. Behind her, the men seemed to hesitate.

* ~ * ~ *

The shout rang out above the din of the battle, and it took Gabrielle an extra second to realize that it was her own voice. The soldiers looked at her doubtfully, still hanging back. Her voice rose in fury as she yelled "Come on!" and drove into the fray, running her sword through the first Roman to block her path and then yanking it out, bright and wet with death. The others were behind her now, and Gabrielle pushed forward, cutting her path through the human thicket.

She had no idea how much time had passed, how many Romans she had struck down, or in how many places her own body was cut and bleeding. The tide of the battle had turned again, and almost everywhere the Romans were on the run, but Xena was still nowhere to be seen, still trapped somewhere by the city walls. And then Gabrielle saw her -- soaring high over enemy ranks, flipping in the air, and disappearing from view again.

The Amazon bard froze, losing her focus for a moment, and barely had time to duck a swishing blade that almost took her head off. Before she could regain her balance and strike back, the assailant tackled her, and they both went tumbling down.. Gabrielle found herself pinned underneath the much bigger Roman, her sword lying a few feet away, as he tried to aim the tip of his weapon at her throat.

Squirming desperately, she pushed him off just enough to be able to twist her body and reach one of her sais. The man's hand closed around her neck. She struggled for air, her vision growing blurry, but she still managed to drive the dagger into his thigh. His eyes bulged and he cursed, spraying her face with spit; she slashed again, and the hold on her neck was weakened enough for her to wriggle free. Gabrielle scrambled to her feet and slammed her boot into the Roman's face. With a howl of pain, he clutched at his nose with his left hand. She kicked again, knocking his sword from his grasp and catching it in mid-flight. Then, gasping for breath, she spun around, her eyes riveted to where she had last seen Xena.

And there she was, sword raised high, hair flying in the wind, leading a charge toward the gates.

She was all right.

Gabrielle turned to see her opponent rise and stagger toward her. She brought him down with another powerful kick and ran his own sword through his neck.