It's What I Do

But over the tower the night raised its flag,
Its own true colour, its banner of black;
Three armies have gathered for carnage at night,
Three sources of nightmares, three ghoulish dreams,
Three sources of three black rivers of Hell,
What use against them was only one man?
Let's gather in the place where his house had stood,
Where the grass grows high over coals of wood
And we'll bury our joy in those blackened old coals
In the place where he perished – the last man on Earth.

Nautilus Pompilius, "The Last Man on Earth"

"Gabrielle! Gabrielle, wake up!"

"Stop shaking me..." Gabrielle buried her face deeper in her arms, trying to pull her mind back into sleep, back into comfortable darkness. She had been dreaming; warm, peaceful dreams where she was with Xena, and the forest smelled like summer around them, and the trees nodded thoughtfully to her words. She had been telling a story, and Xena had listened with that look of fond amusement she used to have, before... All this. The dreams shifted now, ignoring Gabrielle's resistance, forcing her back to the surface of awareness.

"I'm awake," she said, and opened her eyes. Her head hurt. She must have fallen asleep at her map-table when she returned after the confrontation with Ares; a glance at the pale light between the open doorflaps told her it was dawn, the start of a cloudy, soggy day. Shivers of wind passed over the tent, making the leather creak. Gabrielle sat up, every muscle in her body cramping indignantly. She blinked and rubbed her eyes. "Varia?"

Varia took her hand from her shoulder. She looked dishevelled, as though she too had been roused from sleep without warning. Her hair was swept back into a loose plait, her eyes heavy with dark circles. She was holding a piece of parchment with a death grip.

"A message from the Romans," she said tersely. "With Livia's seal."

Gabrielle was awake at once, dreams forgotten. She snatched the parchment, fumbling with the string that tied it.

"When did it come?" she asked – then looked up with a frown. "It's broken. The seal." The wax clinked apart into two halves in her hand.

Varia looked unhappy, but defiant. "I read it. The messengers are still here, waiting for the answer." She prodded at the scroll in Gabrielle's palm, "Read it."

Gabrielle unrolled the scroll and scanned the message, reading more and more slowly as its meaning sank in. Blood rushed to her face, pulsing in her temples like fear.

She looked up at Varia, biting her lip. "Livia is asking for a parley. Maybe ... she wants peace." She was dismayed by the uncertainty in her own voice.

"Yeah, right," Varia scoffed. "She came here with four legions looking for peace?"

"It's possible she's changed her mind. She had Xena beside her all this time; Xena can be very persuasive. There may be more to Livia than anyone knows."

Varia regarded her for a moment. "You don't believe it, do you? You say it, but you know she's lying. She's like us: she wants to fight! She doesn't want a treaty."

Gabrielle flushed and looked away. "It doesn't matter what I believe. Right now we have to talk to those messengers."

"I agree. We better find out what Livia is playing at."

Gabrielle didn't trust herself to answer. Wasn't this exactly what she'd hoped for, a chance to talk to the other side? So why couldn't she be happier about it?

She held up the message. "Have the others seen this? The council?"

"They're with the Romans now. We better hurry."

Gabrielle poured some water from a clay jug into her hand, splashed her face, then drank the rest in long gulps. It was lukewarm, but she felt a shudder in her hands anyway. She rose, picking up the amulet of beaten silver that distinguished her as a council member and slipping it over her head, then motioned for Varia to precede her. "Where are they?"

"Central west watchtower."

Varia was already at the door. Gabrielle hurried after her, and the two of them cut straight across the awakening camp, past rows of earth-covered coals from last night's cooking fires. Several women came out of their tents at the racket, halfway through arming themselves. Gabrielle caught their puzzled looks as she ran with Varia, faces turning to follow them. She was acutely aware that the commanders of an army should not be hurtling across the camp like children in a schoolyard, but even more acutely, she was aware of the message scroll in her hand. Had Xena seen it? Could it be true, that Livia knew of her Amazon heritage, that she wanted to talk? Had Xena succeeded? It seemed possible, and yet it was so hard to believe... Gabrielle squeezed the parchment tighter, as though it was Xena's hand. She stumbled, regained her footing, tried not to think of Xena at all. It would be all right. But before she could convince herself of that, they had reached the tower.

The watchtower was an elevated walled platform, supported by thick crossbeams at its base that served also as the camp gate. To either side of it, the earthen camp-wall was banked to twice Gabrielle's height. Its digging had left a wide ditch outside to run the length of the wall, continuing past the gate; at the moment was spanned there by a makeshift wooden bridge, guarded by four Amazon warriors armed with spears.

Another detachment of guards was arranged in a circle about fifty paces back from the gate, facing inwards with their spears crossed. The area around them had been cleared, forming something like a marching ground two hundred paces across, overlooked by archers in the watchtower above.

"There," Varia pointed out to Gabrielle as they crossed the clearing and approached the Amazons gathered there. "Livia's messengers."

Two guards moved their spears apart to let Gabrielle and Varia pass into the circle. The Romans stood in its centre. There were three of them, on foot, an absurdly small group. All three wore full armour and ostentatiously plumed helmets, but their scabbards were empty, and there were no daggers at their belts. Gabrielle recognised one of the Romans as Rufus, the young tribune who had quizzed her about Amazon warfare. She wondered if he recognised her in her Amazon attire. If he did, he gave no sign.

Prothoë, Cyane and several other council members were already present; they stood around the Romans in a semicircle, each queen in her proper accustomed place. Gabrielle was surprised to see Marga among them, wearing the half-moon amulet of a former queen instead of the full circle that was now Gabrielle's. So she was calling in her right to speak at the council. Gabrielle nodded to her uneasily.

There were two gaps in the semicircle. "Sisters," she greeted the others, taking her place. To her left, she saw Varia do the same.

"What's going on, Gabrielle?" demanded Prothoë, sweeping aside all formalities. She tucked a red curl behind her ear impatiently and came forward. "Why does Livia have your right of caste?"

"Because your own queen gave it to her; see!"

All heads turned at the sound of Rufus' voice. There was no mistaking the leather pendant that hung from his fingers, dancing in the morning breeze. He thrust his hand higher into the air, "Here!"

Gabrielle felt herself coiling, as if preparing for a jump.

"So she stole it!" Varia broke in. She came forward to stand small and dark opposite Prothoë, and gave Gabrielle a tense smile of support. "It means nothing. That thing is a worthless trinket unless it's given with the proper rites, in the Amazon lands. All of you know that!"

"That's true – if it was stolen."

Marga's calm voice pre-empted Gabrielle's reply. Her dark, wide-set eyes measured Gabrielle. "That pendant was given to Xena's daughter when she stayed with our tribe, to receive your right of caste. You told us she was dead, Gabrielle."

Her voice was accusation and question at the same time. Gabrielle knew Marga was giving her an opening, a chance to explain. Why hadn't she told them about this?

The gathering had grown very still, waiting for her answer. Gabrielle thought she must look like a tousle-headed child, slightly dazed from a too-sudden awakening. Doggedly, she focused her mind on a single thought: there was only one person who could have told Livia about the pendant's significance, Xena. And Xena wouldn't have done it if she wasn't sure of her daughter. Livia wants peace, Gabrielle told herself firmly. Livia is not like Hope, she can change. Livia had already changed. She had to believe it.

Cyane's brows furrowed in thought; she glanced back to the waiting Romans. "Could someone have taken the pendant from Eve's body? Perhaps Livia bought it..."

"No." Gabrielle clipped the word sharply. She refused to look away from the faces turned to her. It was time to stop lying. "Livia is Eve."

There was a long silence – then everything fell apart. Amazons yelled over one another, demanding answers, crowding her. Gabrielle tried to fend them off, but could find no voice to silence them. Marga did it for her, motioning at the guards to lead the Romans out of earshot. Rufus and the others followed the guards reluctantly, stopping when they were well away.

"How can this be?" Marga asked, frowning at Gabrielle. "You said Eve was not buried in the mountain with you, but was killed in a fall..."

"She survived. The Romans found her."

The cries rose again; Gabrielle caught Varia's stunned look, but could offer no more explanations, not now. She wished she was a better person. She wished she didn't resent Xena for having saved her daughter.

"When did you plan on telling us, sister?" Prothoë's voice sliced through the din, forcing the cries to quieten. "What other secrets do you have from us?"

"I'm sorry." To Gabrielle's surprise, her voice did not sound helpless but almost reasonable, controlled. "I misled you only in this, nothing else. The truth is, I didn't..." She paused. "I didn't believe that Livia could be changed. But Xena did. That's why she stayed beside her, to try to ... make her understand."

"So Livia is Xena's daughter," one of the Southern queens said at last, as though coming to terms with the idea. Someone made a sound of disbelief, other shook their heads.

"She is." Gabrielle glanced up and saw that Marga had signalled the guards to bring the Roman messengers back; the three of them were now walking back briskly, surrounded by Amazon spears.

"Is that why Xena could not stop her?" asked Cyane. "Because Livia is her own child?"

Gabrielle saw no malice in Cyane's keen eyes, only an honest question. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. Xena trusted Livia with the pendant. Trust Xena.

"Xena did stop her," she said. "She gave her daughter that pendant for a reason. With her right of caste, Eve can negotiate with us without losing face in front of her men. We can make an alliance with Rome to benefit us all, instead of destroying each other in this war."

"Ally ourselves with Rome?" Varia, beside her, all but choked out the words. "That's insane!"

Gabrielle felt a slap of heat on her face; coming from Varia, the words hurt much worse than all of Prothoë's accusations. She had grown used to relying on Varia's support.

"Is that such a foolish notion?" one of the Romans spoke up.

Gabrielle started at the familiar voice, then her mouth went dry. "Livia?.."

Livia removed her helmet and shook out her long dark curls, clearly enjoying the scattered gasps of the Amazons. Rufus and the other man stepped back deferentially. The tension in the ring of guards went up a notch; they edged their spears closer. Livia held out her hands to show that she was unarmed – and that she had the right of caste pendant. She slipped it around her neck.

"Your queen speaks sense." Her voice was faultlessly polite, crisp. "I came here myself as a gesture of trust. It would be a pity to waste our people's lives when we can work together."

"Not a pity to waste yours!" yelled one of the Amazons, and Prothoë agreed calmly, "We could kill you where you stand, Roman. The archers in that tower never miss."

Livia spared her a tolerant look. "You could. I stand unarmed in your camp. It would be – easy."

Gabrielle felt her own cheeks colouring, even as she saw the same response in the other Amazons: embarrassment at the dishonourable threat, and grudging admiration of Livia's bravery. That was how she'd built her following, Gabrielle realised. That was how the baby in Xena's arms had become Rome's Champion: she acted as though she could be nothing less.

Livia looked at her. For a moment, Gabrielle forgot to breathe. Those were Xena's eyes, piercing right through her soul, but with none of Xena's warmth or forgiveness. See, they seemed to say, Xena doesn't need you. Her daughter is here to speak of peace – not because of you, Gabrielle, but despite you. Gabrielle suppressed a shudder. When had Livia become Xena's Hope in her mind? When had she decided that Livia could not change?

"Queen Gabrielle," Livia acknowledged her. "I believe we've already met."

Gabrielle nodded uneasily. "We have."

"Only then you were a spy in my army."

"I wasn't a spy!" Gabrielle protested, then realised how silly that sounded. What else had 'Jana' been? "I was your mother's friend," she finished lamely.

"Of course," Livia agreed too easily, then looked past her, to address the rest of the council. "I appreciate your acceptance of my messengers, but I would like to negotiate with you fairly, as one of your own. As an Amazon."

"You want a seat on the council?" Marga asked incredulously. "But that's impossible. Gabrielle is queen of your tribe."

"Yes, she is," Livia said. "For now."

Gabrielle felt as if she had been struck with a staff, her legs cracked under her. Livia went on, "By Amazon law, I can take her place, if –" she looked directly at Gabrielle – "I challenge her."

The world seemed to be spinning; all Gabrielle could see was Livia's triumphant stare and the blur of Amazon faces around her, soundless, caught, hemmed in. She'd feared a Roman attack, but Livia had found a much easier way to destroy the Amazons, one they could not refuse without denying their laws, denying themselves.

No queen could refuse a rightful challenge. Livia had the right of caste. She had the right to challenge.

Marga turned to Gabrielle with fury and sadness in her face, and Gabrielle wanted suddenly to thank her for it, for this quiet dignity she gave her.

"She has the right to do this," Marga said with dark regret. "She has your right of caste. If you decline... If you decline, you forfeit to Rome."

That seemed to change something for the others; Gabrielle realised that the Amazons saw a truth in Livia's challenge, a test for them. Livia had walked into their camp unarmed. Now she wanted to know if the Amazon queen had the same courage, if she was a worthy opponent. One negotiated with equals, just as one fought with equals. They were counting on their queen to uphold their honour.

They were counting on her to fight Xena's child.

Gabrielle could not speak; she stood perfectly still until there was silence, until they were all watching her. Livia's eyes remained cool and calm, twin mirrors that threw Gabrielle's own fear back at her, revealing nothing of the woman's own thoughts.

"I'm losing my patience, Amazon Queen. What is your decision?"

"I don't want to fight you, Eve." Once the words were out, Gabrielle could not stop herself. She felt foolish prickling tears pressing into her eyes, her nose. She remembered holding this baby in her arms, still slick with afterbirth, warm, crimson-faced from screaming. "I held you, when you were born." The tears were spilling now, not a thing she could do about it. "You're Xena's daughter! And because you are hers you are mine also, and all the Amazons'. You don't need to fight us, Eve. You are one of us."

Gabrielle saw something flinch and twist in Livia's face, breaking the mask of confidence. She took a slow, tentative step forward, not daring to breathe. Livia glared at her, but said nothing. Gabrielle took another step, then another, until she was close enough to see that Livia's self-assurance was a bluff; her hands were shaking and her breathing was as quick as a child's.

"Daughter of Xena," Gabrielle said solemnly, "you can create peace between us and Rome. Do it, Eve. Come home."

Livia's face contorted violently. "Forget it!"

She looked over Gabrielle's head at the rest of the council, the Amazon Queens who were watching them in tense heavy silence. "What is this Xena to you?" she demanded. Her gaze ricocheted from one woman to the next, challenging, angry. "Don't any of you remember what she did to you?! Let me remind you. My – mother," she stressed the word, "murdered Amazons in cold blood!"

She paused in disgust, as though the story pained her.

"This Xena whom your queen here holds in such respect once invaded a sacred ritual and slaughtered all the elders of the Northern tribes. The entire council, gone. Just like that." Livia's gaze stopped on Cyane, acknowledging her Northern dress. "Isn't that so, Amazon?"

"It's true," Cyane conceded. Gabrielle caught her apologetic glance.

"There, it's true!" Livia rejoined with a bright, false smile. "You see—"

"Wait," Cyane protested, "We don't deny Xena's crimes, but she was also the one who came back to save us and make us strong again..."

It was too late; no one was listening. Livia's aim had been impeccable, Gabrielle looked pleadingly to the others, but their eyes were bright and hard, and there were more words spilling from Livia's mouth in a torrent of violence: "I am not Xena! I will never backstab you the way she did, never! Your laws are my laws, and I will obey them. Obey you, the Amazon council!"

The Amazon yelled their approval, united in mutual hatred, mutual purpose, cobbled together into a nation by Livia with such ease. Gabrielle felt lightheaded, as though her feet could not quite reach the ground in this sea of grimacing faces... They believed her. They believed Livia, they saw her fire and did what they would have never expected – accepted her, trusted her, believed that she understood them. Effortlessly, Livia had supplanted Gabrielle.

"She has them."

Gabrielle turned at Cyane's words, at their sadness that carried through all the noise.

"You'll have to fight her," Cyane said gravely. "If you don't, it is over. She will make them Rome's slaves and they'll never notice."

Gabrielle glanced back at the Amazons who now surrounded Livia, at Varia's upturned face ablaze with the reflected fire from Livia's words, at Marga's level stare, at Prothoe's flaming hair in the wind like a banner of war. Then Livia's stare met hers, over the crowd. Startled, Gabrielle felt her face grow hot, her tongue numb with fear. There was a triumph in Livia's eyes that was obscenely familiar. Xena. Xena could smile that way, when her sword was in her hands, a moment before it sliced a man's throat.

Someone's hand was gentle on Gabrielle's shoulder. "I can fight her for you." Cyane's voice. "I know what she – what Xena... What they mean to you."

Gabrielle shook her head without looking away from Livia. "No." She imagined this fight, Cyane collapsing under Livia's sword, her eyes huge and kind and closing slowly, her head hitting the ground with a hollow crack, dead. No, it was the other way around, it was Eve who fell in ponderous slow motion while Gabrielle stood by and watched... "No." She turned to Cyane, squeezed her hand quickly. "It's not your fight." Then a black humour twisted her mouth, and she didn't know if it was Cyane she spoke to, or the gods, or no one at all. "Of course, why not. I've already killed one daughter."

She ignored Cyane's sound of shocked anguish, and stepped forward. In the loud, clear voice of the Amazon Queen she said, "Livia! I accept your challenge."

There was a brief silence. Gabrielle held Livia's cold eyes, her head raised, her shoulders squared. Then Varia's voice called her name – "Gabrielle!" – and it became a chant around her and Livia, encircling the two of them as they watched each other – "Gab-ri-elle! Gab-ri-elle!" – only Gabrielle couldn't even hear it, and the faces seemed all a blur around Livia, around those blue blue eyes that belonged to Xena. That was all that remained, Gabrielle thought, all that was left to her of Xena. She was going to kill their one remaining child, or die at her hand, it didn't matter which. Either way it was over.

Good-bye, my friend, she said silently, and then aloud – "I love you, Xena."

Livia smiled.

* * *

The fight had started. Ares found himself pacing the prison tent, three strides from one corner to the next along the wall and back again. Damn, damn, damn. His fist scraped the wall as he walked, the edge of his ring leaving pale scratches in the dark oily leather. He stared at those lines, refusing to turn around, to see the body on the floor. He had made the mistake of looking before and now couldn't dislodge the image from his mind. It wasn't Xena. It couldn't be Xena, she had no right to look this way!

Ares stopped, turned around. The vaguely human shape was still there: a tangle of naked limbs in the dirt, the pale oval of her back criss-crossed by unnaturally straight lines, the violet, red, brown skin shiny and raised and looking like something fake, not skin at all but painted wax. One arm held an upturned leather bucket, hugging it close. It wasn't Xena. Ares thought of her in the rage of battle, galloping wild into the thick of horses and men, screaming, invincible...

But she wasn't invincible. She was human, broken, hurt. Ares stood rigid in the shadows, watching. He thought he saw her move, her fingers twitch slightly.

"Xena?" Was that croak really his voice?

She made a sound that was half-breath, as though the pain surprised her, turned her head then was still again. He could see her face now. There seemed to be a drumbeat outside, the call of the distant fight, the Amazons' drums, Livia. Ares felt its pull like a string on his mind, urging him to get out of here and take his place at the fight, to see his daughter finally become his champion. He didn't move. Something was swelling up in his chest, making it difficult to breathe. There were twin red spots of fever in Xena's cheeks; around them her skin was so pale that it seemed to glow faintly in the half-darkness. How could she lie there? Why didn't she wake up, get up, do something?! He wanted to touch her. He couldn't touch her; he felt a mad conviction that if he did her skin would be cold, brittle as ice. His chest kept swelling until air and words were stuck in his throat like a wad of bandages. He wanted to kiss her.

Xena opened her eyes.

Instinctively Ares moved back into the shadows, but everything in him leapt forward, to her. The drumbeat was louder than ever, battering the tent; it took him a moment to realise it was raining.

"Eve challenged Gabrielle," he blurted out. He felt a suffocating anxiety that it was too late, though for what he could not say.

"Eve?" Xena sat up without so much as wincing at her injuries, stood up. Rainwater was leaking in through the roof, drops hitting the floor between them. "There is no Eve, Ares. Not anymore." Her eyes were level with his now, looking at him without depth, without even the spark of anger. "Her name is Livia."

Ares held out his hand and focused on a single thought. There was a brief flash of aether; when it faded, he was holding Xena's chakram. Her armour and leather tunic lay in a heap on the floor; he saw her eyes dart to them quickly, widening. "What are you doing?"

"Take it." When Xena didn't move, Ares thrust the chakram into her hand furiously, "Take it!"

He had to get out of here, get away; he couldn't stand Xena's eyes and this awful hot tenderness inside him; he couldn't stand the sound of the rain and the drums and the knowledge that he was as close as he'd ever been to seeing every one of his plans fulfilled – Rome, the Amazons, war, a great champion – and all he could care about was the fear that he'd never hold Xena again.

The aether flashed again, and Xena was left alone, holding the chakram like a shield before her.

Her child was dead. Her friend was not – not yet.

There was a harsh noise like a shriek, then rain and light spilled into the tent from the ruptured wall, a thin horizontal wedge of whiteness. Xena felt tears in her eyes, swiped at them with her free hand, kicked aside the heap of armour on the floor as she cut the wall again and ran out. She felt that her whole body had been taken over by a great force she could neither understand nor control; it propelled her through the Roman camp as though it were no more than a theatre-set of paper tents and soldiers while she was a knife, cold and dead and very sharp. She felt no pain. There were faces around her, she caught them as glimpses of round-mouthed horror or pain, some trying to stop her with paper spears, paper words, others too stunned to do more than stare. Perhaps they thought of her as a fury or a goddess; it pleased Xena that they opened the gates and she didn't have to kill the guard. What was his name? She would remember later, not now, not yet.

The rain was coming down harder now, roaring like an army in the open marshes, adding water to boggy ground to turn it into treacle through which she ran, stumbled, kept running as in a nightmare, never fast enough. The rain hid the Amazon camp from view, but it also hid her from the Romans, should any be mad enough to come after her. There were sounds of a fight now, in the distance, distorted by the rain. Xena stopped, clutched at a clump of coarse reeds for support, listened. Another scream, some more sounds, steel on steel. Water was coursing down her face, unchecked, the cold climbing from her numb muddied feet into her bones.

She heard another noise, a high note that could have only been Gabrielle; Xena knew it the way she knew that it was her own skin the rain touched, the way she knew the feel of her own hands. Gabrielle! For a moment she was lost, caught unprepared by the collapse of the walls she had put up in her mind to live with this separation, with Gabrielle's absence. Then the scream came again and drove all thought from her mind and she was running, running again towards the sound, towards that place where the only friend she had ever known was calling for her, across the marshes and the rain and the bodies of their children, and the walls.

"Gabrielle!"

"Halt!"

Xena came up short, raising her head to the rain so she could see the guardtower. The dirt wall was high, a ditch before it filled with turbid water and sharp stakes; the tower was even higher, the rain seemed to come from its roof. Two Amazons archers had their bows on her. Xena didn't raise her voice. "Open the gate."

The archers stared down at her over their nocked arrows, silent.

Xena yelled out, "Open the gate!"

The two arrows came at her at once, she threw one aside with her chakram, caught the other. She raised the circular blade to the rain, then the arrow. She saw the guards hesitate.

"Please," she said, not knowing until that very moment that she would plead with those she should kill. "Gabrielle doesn't have much time."

The guards fell back from the wall a bit, perhaps conferring. Then part of the gate was wrenched open abruptly and a plank fell over the ditch, bridging it. Xena ran in, nearly cannoning into the Amazon who held the gate; then she was inside – and everything changed.

She saw Gabrielle.

In that same moment she also the rest, the whole scene frozen like a snapshot of lightning, each motion caught clearly, without shadow. The marshalling ground puddled with mud; the ring of spears held flat to enclose the fight; the pressing, screaming crowd of Amazon queens with two red-crested Roman helmets bright among them, and the rain, the sword, the white steel raised high over Livia's head – and Gabrielle's white face beneath it.

"Livia!"

Xena saw the sword pause, saw the faces turn to her in the rain, heard Gabrielle's cry of surprise.

"Oh good," Livia screamed past the crowd, "Mum's here!" Then her blade fell screaming towards Gabrielle.

Xena released her chakram. In the split second of its flight she met Gabrielle's eyes; they were vivid green in the rain and so tired, dangerously tired, the eyes of one who has chosen to walk into death. Xena felt a rage so hot it choked her. Why Gabrielle? Why her again, after everything she'd suffered, everything she'd lived through! It hadn't been Gabrielle who'd brought Livia into the world, it wasn't her fight! She wanted to rush to her, to hold on to Gabrielle with all her strength, to kneel and beg her forgiveness – but how could she deserve that forgiveness when her chakram was in the air and she could not help but look at Livia, the Roman commander, not Eve, not Eve, not Eve...

A spear fell to the ground, two Amazons diving out of the way in the last moment, the chakram searing past them and into its mark.

It struck Livia's sword.

Xena felt her relief like a weakness. She saw Gabrielle tuck and roll and knew she was safe, saw the sword fly wildly from Livia's reach as the chakram went spinning up, high into the air.

The wrong way.

She felt a jolt of vertigo: her chakram! Livia had deflected it with a swift twist of her blade, expertly, as though she had been waiting for this; when the chakram came down, she caught it with a snap.

"Nice try, mother. You've never given me a toy before."

She raised the weapon, taunting Xena with her possession of it, as though she held her soul. Abruptly, Xena understood; her eyes darted to Gabrielle, coming out of the roll on the other side of the ring, about to stand... Then Livia's scream pierced the crowd, the rain, and she was flying through the air, turning over as the chakram split into sharp halves in her hands.

"Gabrielle, move!"

But it was too late; someone in the crowd shrieked, then there was a blur of motion and the unmistakable sound of torn flesh and two half-round blades protruding from Gabrielle's chest with Livia's hands still on them, making the things look obscenely like handles, like some terrible claws by which she held Gabrielle.

Xena broke through the ring of guards; she was through the crowd of strangers and at Gabrielle's side, refusing to think, refusing to see it.

Gabrielle reached to her: small, fragile, covered in mud and Amazon war-paint. There were tears in her eyes, tears in Gabrielle's beautiful eyes, warmer than rain. For a moment Xena thought it was she who was dying and the blood streaming over Amazon armour and whitening skin was hers. Yet she didn't fall when Gabrielle did. Gabrielle's body folded slowly as though cut at the feet, cut free from the ground, strangely graceful. The blades, Livia's claws, slid out of her as she fell. Xena caught her, but it seemed she couldn't hold her, the body she held was no longer enough to contain Gabrielle, there were gashes in her chest, blood. Gabrielle's mouth opened slightly, without breath for speech. Then it was over. Without a word from Gabrielle, it was over.

She was dead.

Xena looked up, unaware of the numb silence of the Amazons, unaware that there was no more rain.

Livia held the chakram, two halves of metal covered with Gabrielle's blood. Her face was without expression. Xena stood. Something tore inside her, a quick death; then there was nothing more. She felt very calm. Each smear of blood on Livia's weapon stood out in stark acid-etched contrast, yet it was not the chakram Xena saw, but her own sword so many years ago, raised over Gabrielle's newborn child. Incongruously, the chakram moved closer, as though Livia was offering it, like a sacrifice, like a new child. She said, "I killed him. Your Marcus. Your Gabrielle. She's dead, I killed her."

"You killed her."

"I thought you'd die if she... if she did – then I'd be free. From you. But..." Livia looked puzzled, her thin dark brows coming together. "It's strange, I've never been afraid of anyone before... You're inside me, Semra. I think. In here." She pointed at her own chest with both hands, both sides of the chakram. Gabrielle's blood on the blades was bright-red, like the two Roman helmets in the crowd. "You called me Eve, when you came to find me in the temple in Rome. I remember now. In Dyrrachium, too." She put the chakram together with a click; Xena took it. "I remember," Livia repeated almost inaudibly. "You called me Eve."

"Eve is dead," Xena said. Then she raised the chakram to her daughter's throat. "I'm here to avenge her."

Livia started very slightly. Then she nodded once, an abrupt up-and-down jerk of her head. "Do it then." She tipped her head back, arching her neck to the curve of the blade. "Eve is dead."

Xena held the chakram. The future motion of it was already in her arm, the potential for the kill coiled within her, like an army waiting for an order. She just had to let go.

Movement erupted on all sides; Xena saw from the corners of her vision the bright plumes of Roman helmets and the earth shades of Amazon armour, threatening to close in. There were screams, isolated exclamations, Rufus' frantic cry of "Commander, back here!" and an answering volley of obscenities in Latin and Greek. Something stopped them all.

Xena realised that Livia had raised her hand, sideways, her neck held still at the chakram's edge. There was a power in that movement, a command to stay out, stay away.

The wave of the crowd receded. Not even Rufus spoke. Livia's hand fell back to her side amid a closed silence. Fear, Xena thought, fear was sour in the still-damp morning air, in the greyness of it. None of them understood this Roman baring her neck for death. Fear of the unknown. Fear of madness, too, of the madwoman in a scrap of linen over bloodied skin, of her wild eyes and scraggly dark hair and her arm held straight out to the neck of the Roman.

Just let go.

The skin of Livia's neck was pale and almost translucent; there was a fine blue line on the side of it, like a river viewed from high above, from the mountains. The chakram would bisect it. Xena followed the curve of Livia's neck up, to the lines of her jaw, her face. And stopped. Tilted away from her, the face seemed rounder, smaller, the eyes shut with long dark lashes. A child's face. Her child's face. The memories came to Xena clear as spring water: the warmth of the little body nuzzled against her breast, the soft fuzz of baby hair, the pink little mouth open in a surprised 'o' when her own hands or Gabrielle's would swing her into the air, teetering in indecision between fear and delight. Ares taking the baby gingerly, so tiny in his arms. The pain, the agonising ripping blindness of her birth. The peace.

Her baby.

Gabrielle's blood on the chakram burned her hand; Xena dropped the thing and it fell, flat down. It hit the ground and lay there, slick and red within dark glistening mud.

Livia's head jerked up. Xena felt herself slip slowly backwards, as if she was a ghost whose time had run out all at once and now she was fading. The crowd fell away out of the shrinking range of her awareness. Whatever strength she'd found was leaving her now, draining like blood from Gabrielle's pierced body. Livia's hands caught her; they seemed very soft, a child's hands, and the sky drew closer somehow, colourless and pale like skin. She realised she was falling, and that the woman who had killed her soul was now holding her. These were the same hands that had killed Gabrielle. The same hands that had once been raised towards her in trust, demanding to be lifted up and held. The face pressed against her cheek was damp, trembling, the face of a murderer. Her baby's face. Her own face, Ares' face, Gabrielle's.

"Eve," she said, "Eve..."

She wished she could see her.

After a while, Livia lowered her mother's unconscious body to the ground. She was gentle; she had never tried to be gentle before. Her mother... Other thoughts she would not allow herself now, but this one thought she knew she would need: her mother. She stood very calmly, turned to her two scouts in a smooth movement, perfectly composed. She had never been as perfect a Roman as now. She had never known how hard it was.

"Rufus, I need the papers we've discussed. For the treaty."

The young man looked confused, fearful. His freckles made him seem even younger. "The papers?" he repeated helplessly. "But the fight, you won it..."

Livia shook her head slightly. "I lost."

"But she's dead!" the other scout cut in, not clever, angry. Livia was glad she didn't know his name.

An Amazon moved, came up between the two Romans, her stride as measured as the look in her eyes. A real Amazon, Livia thought, feeling younger herself now, feeling too Roman, a fool.

"There are many kinds of loss," Marga said to the scout in her calm voice. Her dark eyes rested on Livia for a moment. Then she nodded, motioned to others behind her. "Sisters, Rome asks us for peace. Prepare the council tent for meeting. Livia will join you there."

There was some hesitation, then several Amazons detached themselves from the group, gesturing to the scouts they should follow.

"Varia!" Marga called.

Livia followed the Amazon's gaze, turned and saw a short dark-haired girl crouched by Gabrielle's body, not touching it. There were two bright trails cutting through the ochre paint on her face, and her eyes were red. Marga bowed her head slightly at the girl, a silent acknowledgement of grief. "Take her body to the purification hut. She will have an Amazon burial, with honour – this treaty is hers. Gabrielle gave us peace." Marga sighed, went to touch the girl's shaking shoulders. "Do your duty, Varia. Once the treaty is signed we will build the pyre."

Livia watched mutely as Varia stood, raised her head. "What about that one?" She nodded at Xena, avoiding Livia's eyes.

Marga shook her head. "I'll see to Xena."

And just like that, the Amazons were occupied with a myriad tasks; the air of death lifted from the marching ground, replaced with busy movements, purpose. Livia stood with Marga beside Xena's motionless form, only the three of them left. "The treaty," Marga reminded her.

Livia nodded, then realised with a start that she wanted this strange woman's approval. That unnerved her. As though sensing Livia's withdrawal, Marga turned on her with unexpected fury, eyes afire. "Don't you dare! Don't you dare fight it now. Your mother is alive, be grateful for that. Gabrielle died to make this peace. Back out now, and I swear, I will kill Xena myself."

There was nothing to cushion the shock; Livia stared. "What?"

"You heard me. Xena has earned forgiveness for her crimes, but we do not forget that it was Xena who brought you into the world, and into our lives. If you back out on this treaty, she will die."

Livia's face tightened in fury, but she controlled her voice. "You don't need to threaten me, sister. There will be peace."

Marga gave her a long look, then the faintest of smiles creased her mouth. "Oh yes," she said, her voice lighter than anything Livia had heard before, "you are her daughter. I believe you, Eve."

Then she turned away to help two other Amazons lift Xena onto a makeshift stretcher. Livia stared after them for a moment, feeling as though she had been given a blessing, a blessing so completely undeserved that she had a sense of profound terror at this moment of peace. Then she saw again the blood on the ground, blood spilled by her hands. She remembered her mother's eyes, her whispered lament – "Eve, Eve..." Like the keening of seabirds. Xena has earned forgiveness, Marga had said.

Livia took a hard breath and looked towards the meeting tent and the gathering Amazon council. She didn't want forgiveness. Those who could give it were dead. She didn't know what she wanted now, except that she wanted this peace. And maybe one day her mother could call her Eve.

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