All You Ever Wanted

You better take what you can get,
Don't even bother with my heart,
I get a feeling I won't let dissolve.

Pink, "Stop Falling"

The sun crept slowly towards the horizon. Far too slowly. Alone in her tent, Xena sat at her writing table and turned a goblet over in her hands, over and over. The last rays of the sun slanted in from a window flap in the opposite wall, igniting the goblet in a blaze of gold.

Despite the façade of calm assurances with which she had ushered Gabrielle out, Xena didn't feel confident. She didn't even feel certain that what she was about to do could be called bargaining. She rather suspected it was more like a desperate last-ditch attempt to break out of a siege – the kind that usually ended in a short, devastating battle and a ruthless sacking of the besieged town.

Xena glanced at the goblet again. It lost some of its fire as the sun set, and for a moment, it was another goblet, in another time. Strange. She had grown so used to remembering her warlord past with guilt and dismay that it was odd to think that there had been moments of joy in those years – not the savage joy of battle, but the warmer glow of something like contentment. These had been few and far between, but that only made the memories sharper. Seeing her newborn son for the first time had been one such moment. Lao Ma's hands freeing her from pain – another. The years had tainted them all with bitterness – her son's death, her debt to Lao Ma... This one was no different.

... She had long been a warrior by then, long enough to have hardened past the memories of the raid on Amphipolis, of her brother's death, the agony of her mother's shaking finger pointing at her. She had learnt to lose herself in the feral tide of battles, until the blood thrilled her skin and flooded her body – and in those glorious hours of red heat, she could forget everything else.

Battlelust. The word was inadequate, coined by someone with no sense of the vastness of what it described. It could never be understood, only experienced, over and over again, as inviting as the honey-thick luminosity of poison. Like the poison, it was the ebb of it that hit hardest, the loosening of its hold and the yawning despair left in its wake. That endless cycle had been the passage of her youth: surging despair quenched again and again by its cause, obliterating all in its way.

And then came Ares.

His appearance fed into the height of the battle, rushing through her nerves like molten fire. It seemed to give her a dizzying new perspective; Xena saw the entire field of battle at once, was everywhere at once. It was the first time she'd felt what it was like to fight with the God of War at her side. She knew she had to have it.

When she returned to her tent that night she was spattered with blood; it had dried to pull on the skin of her cheeks, mingled salty with sweat on her forehead to run to her lips. A servant had set out a bowl of hot water and a linen towel, Xena splashed her hands and face, watching red clouds swirl away from her. The towel took the rest of the blood, and then she was reaching for a goblet of wine, thirsty from the battle.

The wine grew suddenly warm in her mouth, tingling down the back of her throat. It wasn't the wine.

Something invisible caught at the goblet, and Xena's hand, closed over the worked gold, was joined by another. Fingers entwined with hers, agonisingly close to a caress, tempting her with everything. Xena closed her eyes, intent upon the sensations – and felt something. A connection. A single rich note pouring endlessly into the distance, yet shorter than a breath, drawing her back from the brink of despair as the battlelust ebbed away into a purpose. Focusing her.

Only much later did Xena realise that there had been no strange magic in that moment – just the surprised cry of a hardened soul joined by another, breaking into its solitude. She'd often wondered whether Ares had tricked her into it, into letting down her guard for that instant. It was easiest to think that he had.

Afterwards, when she had turned her ability to sense him into a tool and weapon, it ceased to amaze her, became a fact of existence, and then an irritation, binding her to Ares when she wanted only to be free. Well, she was free of it now. So why was there that odd weight in the pit of her stomach? It was probably dread, and considering what she was planning, it was hardly surprising. Only dread had no right to feel like this. Like it wasn't Ares that she feared.

A final glimmer of gold, and the goblet in Xena's hands returned to metallic reality as the sun's rays left it. It looked nothing like the one which had witnessed the end of the Destroyer of Nations and the birth of the Warrior Princess.

Briskly, Xena set the thing down and filled it with wine, an irresistibly rich crimson. No use dwelling in the past.

"Hello, Xena."

Xena lifted her head to see Ares standing over her, arms leaning on the tabletop. He looked deceptively relaxed, his eyes caught in the tent's shadows. Xena licked her lips nervously and acknowledged him. "You heard me then."

"I was listening."

Having to look up at him made Xena uncomfortably aware of the difference between them: a god and a mortal. She stood up. "We need to talk."

Ares raised his eyebrows a fraction, looking at her expectantly. He wasn't making this easy for her. Xena's face felt like a clay mask. She looked aside, at the brightness of the window – a white-grey square in the leather wall opposite. She took a breath and slammed the door on every doubt.

"I want to discuss a deal."

"A deal." A tiny smirk cracked Ares' wariness. He stretched slightly, pulling his shoulders back. "So you do want my help. I thought you'd have a change of heart, once you and Livia got better acquainted. Well, my offer's still open: you, me, Eve... Just say the word."

"No."

Ares sighed without surprise, "Not that one."

Xena stepped closer, startling him. The wariness returned, Ares' eyes flicked to hers. There was less than a pace separating them now. She said, "You know what Livia is planning."

"And you know I can't call it off."

"I'm not asking you to do that."

He frowned, "Then what are you asking?"

Xena touched his arm – a mistake: the warmth of his skin set her heart racing. "Gabrielle is going to warn the Amazons."

"What touching concern for a nation of warriors." Ares cocked his head. "Let me guess: you need me to sign her bon voyage card?"

"You're going to take her there."

Ares stared at her. "You must be joking. If you're after the Olympian ferry service, try Charon."

"Cut the crap. There's no other way for Gabrielle to leave without destroying our cover, you know that as well as I do."

"Maybe you should've thought of that when you made your arrangement with our daughter."

Xena ignored the accusation in his tone, taking his hand lightly. The restless drumming of her pulse was a rush of noise in her temples.

"But you see," she said softly, still holding his hand, "I did. Livia is going to ask you to help Gabrielle – Jana – look for the missing baby. All you have to do is agree."

Ares grabbed her wrist at that; Xena splayed her fingers in his hold. His fingertips were individual points of pressure against her skin, a little too hard to be comfortable. The cut made by her chakram cracked open; Xena winced as warmth threaded down to her wrist and folded into the lines there.

The sight of her blood drained the indignation from Ares' eyes, leaving only disbelief. He released her hand. "You want me to back the wrong story. Go on pretending that Livia is ... Livia."

Too late to retreat now. Xena measured him with a steady look. "Just for a while. Until she's ready."

Ares turned and paced a tight circle around the tent. "Let me see if I have this straight. I take your irritating friend to the Amazons, lie to my daughter for however long it takes you to decide that she's 'ready' to know who she is ..." He caught Xena's look. "Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm still interested." He returned to where she was standing and faced her again. " I just want to know – what's in it for me?"

"What's in it for you?" Xena looked from the wine on the table to Ares' guarded expression, then shrugged slightly. It meant nothing. "Me."

Ares froze.

Xena let a small smile part her lips, taking a step forward. It brought her so close to Ares' face that she could see something strange in his eyes, a glimmer of something she recognised ... Sudden shame made her cold, then turned into a wave of fire, but the words had already dropped from her lips, and there was no calling them back. Xena did not try. She leaned forward, past that vulnerability in Ares' eyes, to whisper hot against his mouth.

"You help me win back my daughter, and I'm yours."

His breath was ragged on her lips. "You're mine."

"Yes. Tonight." Xena took the front of his vest in her hands, bunching the studded leather painfully against her cut, but the small pain could not cool her. She knew the fire in her was no longer shame, but could not remember how to stop it.

"It's what you've wanted, Ares," her whisper was urgent now, too far gone to pull back, "for years – to have me back, to hold me, to touch me..." Ares' heart was hammering against her fists – or was it the other way around? "I'm offering you this night. Take it."

Ares drew back slightly, unexpectedly; their eyes met and held. Xena felt a tightrope sing beneath her feet, the vertiginous panic of uncertainty – she'd risked it all for nothing, he'd never settle for a single night, he wanted all of her, the warrior queen.

And without any warning, Ares' mouth was on hers, sweet and so deep that it took the breath from her lungs; Xena flung herself hard into his kiss before she had realised her victory.

Their hands were everywhere, dipping into curves and over them, tugging frantically on fabric and armour. Xena realised she'd been afraid of memories assailing her, getting in the way – the one time when they had been together like this, when she had lost her dark side, a part of herself, and had clung for dear life to the connection she'd sensed with Ares. He swept a strand of hair from her cheek, and the impossibly light touch sent a shiver through Xena. It was nothing like those hazy memories of the bathhouse, no memory could ever thrill her like this – all the way to her spine, Ares' lips opening her mouth wider, closer, and then the darting flame of his tongue in her as he flicked the top of her lip.

"Xena..." Ares paused, holding the kiss on the surface of her mouth, his hands gripping her shoulders convulsively around the leather cuirass – "If this is a game..."

"No!" It was almost a scream, Xena fought to find her breath. "No," she said, softer, "no games." She found his eyes, terrified that she'd see them mocking her. They were not. Ares was looking at her out of their rich darkness; frantically Xena searched for the God of War instead, but could only see Ares, could not find the detachment she needed – and that was almost too much to handle. She took Ares' hands from her shoulders, wound them around her hips, her eyes never leaving his, every gesture a seal. "We made a deal," she said very quietly, "And I don't go back on my promises."

That did it. Ares' face hardened slightly, defensively, just as she had known it would – and the desire in his eyes became a painful tide, a bitter need that rose in both of them simultaneously and Xena made no attempt to fight it. They joined in another kiss, harder, defiant, almost bruising – she put both hands on the back of Ares' head, pulling him even closer as he gripped her waist, crushing his mouth with her own. She felt the odd bumps of his spine at the base of his neck, meeting his collar, traced its line down to his chest, then yanked his vest open. Ares gasped and released her mouth, holding on to her waist as she leaned back slightly.

Xena felt her blood rise to her face – why did he have to be so damn beautiful? The muscles of his arms and chest were shadow-drawn to perfection; she ran her palms across his chest, the silky roughness of the hair making her giddy. Roughly, she pulled the vest off and reached for the buckles of his belt, but Ares tightened his hold on her waist until she was pressed up against him, and Xena fell into the sensation of his body against hers.

"Wait," he whispered hoarsely, his hands finding the edge of her cuirass, moving down past it, to her hips, buttocks, then back up. "Not so fast."

"Fine." Xena ran her tongue, then her teeth, over the bare skin of his shoulder, lost for an instant in the scent of him – warm, like a spice she had never seen but somehow knew. Her armour was in the way, but Ares was already unbuckling it – Xena hated the unfamiliar Roman shell as never before, welcomed the cool release when the mass of leather and steel tumbled in a heap to the floor, and Ares' hands were on her hips again, bunching up her linen tunic. She squirmed as he slid it up, over her head; his thumbs brushed her nipples and Xena bit her lip, suppressing a whimper as the thin garment joined her armour on the floor.

Ares did not give her a moment to think about her nakedness, to regain control; a heartbeat later Xena found herself on the edge of the table, the jug and goblet spilling to the floor in a wave of red clatter. She tried to get down, wanted to touch him, but Ares' hands were already moving down over her hips.

"Stay still." His voice was thick with such desire that Xena could not have moved had she wanted to, not when he was pushing her knees apart, kneeling down between them to shift her closer. She had never before allowed herself to be this vulnerable to him, knew that she shouldn't, but it was far too late now. Ares' hands were caressing the soft skin of her inner thighs, fingers moving ever higher in slow circles; Xena tried not to look down, not to let him see the fire in her eyes – enough that he could feel the fire in her body, seeping from her with every move of his hands.

Ares' lips touched her, nearly tipping her into a scream – Xena managed to bite it back with a shuddering effort, arching into his mouth, unable to think further than this impossible 'now', her hands caught in Ares' short hair – messy now, almost human – and every sound he made was a new note, vibrating through her body, almost reaching her soul.

Her release was no release at all, an explosion of heat that ripped right through her and into Ares' long licks as he caught it, so that she was craving more before it was over. In the flicker of clarity that came before this second wave of desire could drag her under, Xena realised she was still wearing her sandals, turned and jumped off the table, lifting Ares up with her.

"Whoa!" His startled cry was muffled by the bedding on Xena's sleeping pallet as she pushed him across the tent and down, straddling his thighs. She grinned at his surprise and gave him no chance to recover, moving over him, touching his chest, unlacing his pants and helping him kick them off. Boots and sandals followed, and then Xena was on top of him again, her mouth meeting Ares' for a hungry kiss, lightheaded with desire.

"Stay still," she commanded, dodging his hands to dive down to one of his nipples. Ares' eyes widened slightly as she took it in her mouth, and Xena could not resist flicking her tongue over it, until he flinched and moaned slightly, and his other nipple was hard under her fingers.

"Xena..." Ares pulled her back up, so that she was stretched out full length against him, skin to skin – and it was her own eyes that widened. No games, she had said, and had meant it, but not like this... Ares was looking at her with so much care, so open to her – it was a deep shock to see that warmth in the eyes of the God of War – and in that instant, those hazy memories returned: his gentle caresses on her bath-damp skin, the gold flickers of countless candles around the bathhouse – and the ache deep inside her, welling like tears, willing for the moment to be forever or not to be at all.

"Xena... If you don't..."

"Shh," she whispered, "Don't speak."

Slowly, very very slowly, she shifted her body until he was inside her and there was nothing between them, then lowered her face to touch Ares' lips with her own, stretching out over him – toes, legs, shoulders, mouths – and began to move. The friction heat of their skin burned her, and the tenderness in Ares' hands and lips brought back that welling pain which could never be tears. Ares made a low sound and reached up to unclip her hair; it fell long and black around them, and in its darkness, Xena moved without feeling any motion, knowing both of them were melting into a oneness that could never, ever exist.

* * *

Falling through the small window, moonlight diffused silver-white on Xena's bare skin and gleamed in her hair. She was breathtaking, lying there beside him, her hip and shoulder warm pressures on his body, her face turned away. Her breathing was soft and even, but Ares knew she was awake. Asleep, she had turned towards him, frowning a little at something only she could see, until he had put his arm around her to draw her close. She had relaxed then, and sighed on his shoulder, almost as if she trusted him. The memory made Ares shiver. He may have held Xena's body, but she had been holding far more. Good thing she'd been asleep and could not know just how helpless she had made him, how unnecessary their bargain really was. A very good thing.

Ares wanted to touch her again, to feel the small flaws in the creamy smoothness of skin. He did not want perfection, it belonged to cold things, to statues and effigies, and Xena was warm and real at last. The moonlight sketched her body: bumps left by crude soldiers' stitches, faded scars where arrows or blades had struck, and the newer scars he had never seen before, thin white lines on her belly, Eve's marks. He felt vaguely responsible for those, lowered a fingertip to touch one. Xena tensed under his hand, but did not turn, and Ares traced the line gently, almost teasingly, down to her dense curls. When he stopped there, her thighs parted very slightly and Ares had to smile. One night, she had said? He very much doubted it.

"No." Xena jerked away from him; surprised, Ares looked up. Xena had turned to face him, her whole body taut, her chest rising and falling quickly.

Ares flashed her a grin, hoping it hid his confusion and slight irritation. "You're not tired?" He tried to reach her, and this time she did not move away – but neither did she move towards him.

"It'll be morning soon." Xena motioned at the window, its square bluish rather than black, but still dark. Angry confusion deepened – what was the point of playing this game? Her skin was blazing, Ares could feel its heat without even touching her. Why did she insist on denying them both?

"In that case, I'll take a tip from the Romans and seize the day." He looked at Xena, challenging her to admit it. "Or night."

She said nothing.

His palm was flat on her legs; Ares brought one finger down between them, drawing his hand upwards a little way, feeling the muscles in her thighs bunch up, feeling how tense she was – and how much the resistance was costing her. He paused, and watched her eyes. "I thought you didn't go back on your promises."

"I don't." Abruptly, Xena relaxed, releasing his hand, and her gaze lost its intensity, became pallid and cool in the greyish light. "You have until daybreak," she said, her voice as bland as her eyes. "Better hurry."

She lay still and silent, a world away.

"Xena?" Ares felt a shock of horror, grabbed her arms and lifted her slightly. She was limp in his hold, a small smile playing on her lips, neither humour nor affection. It merged with a vision from the nightmares which had plagued him for years: she was a frozen doll, bluish-purple, dead. I'm gone, the vision had taunted him with words that echoed in his head, gone forever, into eternity – and you know all about eternity, don't you, God of War?

"Xena!" he screamed, dropping her, clutching her again. He realised he'd closed his eyes, when he opened them Xena was staring up at him in utter bewilderment, very much alive – and it was a relief, such a relief to see anything but that broken pallor. He had never wanted her like that, trapped and broken – she knew that! Xena, who made him feel so alive, no, who forced him to feel alive, beautiful mortal Xena... To see her broken would be worse than all his dreams of ice. With an effort, Ares normalised his breathing, tried to think of something to say to her, anything.

"Stay with me." It was not what he'd meant to say. He lowered himself to the bedding, sweat-damp and chilly, and drew the blanket up over Xena, tucking its edge under her hip.

Xena shook her head; her eyes were soft and, Ares thought, a little wistful.

"I can't do that."

"Why not?" Ares tried to fight back the hope that kept clawing at him, begging to be let out. He smirked slightly, "Tell me you didn't feel anything tonight."

Xena's mouth curved a little, the grin escaping her control. "Well – maybe a little something."

Ares choked, offended. "Excuse me?!"

Xena laughed and he realised she was teasing him – Fates, what he wouldn't have given for this moment when he thought he'd never see her again! The joy he felt made Xena finally, completely alive to him and with her, he felt like living, too. He gathered her into an embrace, stroking her hair, nuzzling her, inhaling her scent.

"Stay with me," he said into her hair, "Forget the deal. We'll work it out, everything."

Xena prised herself away, gently but firmly. She was no longer smiling, and the joy withered in Ares.

"You're a god, Ares. You have eternity to 'work it out'. I only have a short span of time and then – I'm gone." She tried to rise, but Ares caught her wrist. Xena sighed. "It was one night, and it's over."

Ares glanced up at the window – unmistakably lighter now.

"My daughter is leading Rome's army against my best friend's people in a world I barely recognise. I have enough things to 'work out'".

"It doesn't have to be that way."

Before Xena could respond, Ares held out his hand and a bright silver object flashed into it. He flicked the lid open with his thumb, tilting the jar so that Xena could see inside. The ambrosia cast a faint reddish glow on her face as she looked at it.

"It's enough for two," he said, letting Xena take the jar in her hands. "You and our daughter. You know you're going to need time to reach Livia. Take it, and you'll have all the time in the world. We can work it out – all of us."

Xena looked up. "What about Gabrielle?"

Of course, the blonde... But Xena was considering it, or she would not have asked! Ares clung to that promising thought at the expense of all else.

"I couldn't get enough for her," he began, then realised Xena's face was closing up. Frantically, he tried again. "You said yourself that the Amazons are Gabrielle's people, she belongs with them ..." But it was too late, Xena was shaking her head again and returning the jar, and Ares finally understood the other gods' predilection for turning annoying mortals into trees and pot plants. Right now, he could have cheerfully turned the babbling bard into something shady and quiet – if only it could have helped.

"Forget it, Ares. You know I never wanted immortality."

No, she didn't, Ares thought. Doesn't. And one day not long from now, some idiot with a better arrow, or a quicker blade would take her away forever, and if not – then mortality would strike anyway, sooner or later, and there would not be a reprieve again. What then? He'd lived this long just fine without her, he could go on without her, no problem. Trouble was, he'd tried it. For twenty-five years. And he didn't think he'd like to try it again.

"And what about mortality?" he asked smoothly. "Are you sure it's what you want? What happens if you fall on a battlefield somewhere, and never get through to Livia at all – do you think she would refuse the ambrosia?"

Xena's face hardened completely, and Ares could have kicked himself. Trying to turn this into a game was stupid, it wasn't what he wanted... Damn!

Xena shoved the ambrosia back into his hands and sat up. "I kept my end of the bargain," she said icily, "I trust you to keep yours."

Ares made a last, desperate attempt. "Okay," he said, "the future can wait. I'll settle for now." He looked down at the jar in his hands, closing the lid carefully, holding Xena's gaze – and tossed it over his shoulder. Xena followed its arc as it tumbled through the air, seemingly in slow motion; the blanket fell from her hands and folded slowly at her waist.

The jar landed, bounced up – and dropped directly into the hands of the goddess who materialised in the centre of the tent, the heat of her arrival washing gold over the sparse interior. The light collected down to a point at Athena's feet and disappeared.

"Let me guess," she said, opening the jar briefly to glance at its contents, "this is not what it looks like."

Ares put his arms around Xena's waist as she pulled up the blanket to cover herself, and shrugged in perfect nonchalance. "Yeah it is." Damn his sister for bursting in just as he was getting somewhere!

"Warrior Princess," Athena nodded in Xena's direction.

"Athena." Xena rose with the blanket, breaking away from Ares. He followed her up, fully clothed, and wondered if there was a rule about turning fellow gods into trees.

Athena picked up the bundle of armour from the floor and held it out; Xena retrieved it from her hand, but made no move to put it on.

"I see my brother is still trying to win you back after all these years." Athena glanced at the bedding. "With considerably more success than he's had previously, it seems."

Ares glared at her. "Jealous, sis?"

Athena ignored him, continuing in the same didactic tone she seemed to think suited the Goddess of Wisdom. "I apologise for the interruption, Xena, but Ares and I have a little matter to discuss," she looked meaningfully at the ambrosia in her hands, then at Ares – "in private."

Xena shrugged into her tunic, dropping the blanket from underneath it, pointedly indifferent to the presence of two gods. "Go right ahead," she said, "I have an army to move." She picked up her armour and began to put it on.

"Hey – wait wait wait..." Ares held out an arm to stop her, "Wait a minute."

Xena moved away, lacing up her gauntlets. "Ares, I have to do this my way." There was a hint of regret in her face, but Ares could tell his chance was gone. He sighed.

"What a surprise."

Somewhere in the camp, a bugle sounded; Xena shook out her hair, jerked the tent flap open and ran outside, into the grey dawn. The leather fluttered shut behind her.

Athena looked after her. "On second thoughts, I may have been a little hasty about your success."

Ares shot her a poisonous look, but it did not meet the usual deprecating sarcasm in his sister's eyes – only a warning.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Ares. Stealing from another god?" Athena squeezed the silver jar in her hand and it disappeared in a flare of light, taking Ares' plans with it. "That's low, even for you."

"I'm thrilled you think I have standards," he snapped, torn between anger and despising himself for the prickling fear he felt. True, the ambrosia had belonged to Artemis, but she was probably scarcely even aware of its existence...

Athena's voice lost its veneer of tolerance. "I'm sick and tired of having to clean up your messes, Ares. I could do without neglected Amazons complaining to me, and I could certainly do without having to explain your romantic fantasies to our father!"

"If it's romantic fantasies he's after," Ares said, anger squashing fear, "try telling him yours. I'm sure he'd find Ilainus entertaining."

She didn't let him deflect her. "You never do think of the consequences, do you? It wouldn't have crossed your mind, for instance, that Zeus might consider your attempts to make your lover and your daughter immortal as open rebellion?"

Ares frowned. "How do you..."

Athena sighed in exasperation. "It wasn't difficult to work out that Livia was your daughter, Ares, but that's not the point. It's bad enough that you're trying to create immortal champions – that alone could have cost you your godhood. But to Zeus, it looks suspiciously like you're after a do-it-yourself pantheon. Between Uranus, Chronus and himself, it does seem to run in the family. You can't blame him for being cautious."

That prickling fear suddenly acquired a name. Rebellion. This was serious. Nothing got to Zeus quite like a threat to his rule, Ares had learnt that all too well during the several very unpleasant months he'd spent in Tartarus after the Dahak mess. Who knew what creative punishment his dear father could cook up this time? Zeus could kick him out from Olympus – or off it, as Hera had once done to Hephaestus. Only in his case, Ares could bet it'd be a permanent arrangement – he wasn't Hephaestus, he couldn't forge trinkets to bribe his way back into the fold. Wouldn't want to, anyway. No, he'd end up back in Tartarus – or worse, mortal. Ares had no urge to repeat either experience.

He met his sister's cool gaze, swallowing hard. "This is not about crossing Dad, you know that."

Athena looked suddenly tired. "Try explaining that to him. Repeatedly."

"It didn't bother him last time, when Eve was born." Of course, Ares thought, back then he never did retrieve the ambrosia, had only tried to convince Xena to take it, without success... And then it dawned on him. "You never told Dad about that, did you?"

Athena shrugged, "I saw no reason to tell him, when it was obvious that Xena had no intention of accepting your kind offer. But I couldn't keep him from finding out this time, not after you actually stole the ambrosia." Her eyes told Ares just what she thought of the entire escapade. "I did, however, point out that the problem was Artemis' negligence." She smiled thinly. "I believe our father is currently busy making sure that there's no more ambrosia available for human consumption. And Artemis is sulking somewhere in her forests, ignoring the Amazons as usual. So you're off the hook – for now."

Ares gaped, "You covered for me!" Unbelievable. Her mortal lover must have mellowed her; clearly, romantic fantasies agreed with his sister. He grinned. "Never knew you had it in you, sis!"

Athena did not share his mirth. She fixed him with a stare too cold for humour, implacable almost to the point of compassion. Ares sobered.

"I did what I could," Athena said. "But if I were you, I'd stay out of Dad's sight for a while – and don't even think about getting the ambrosia again. I mean it, Ares. Xena is mortal, and so is your daughter. Accept it."

Ares nodded. There'd be other chances.

* * *

Contrary to all expectation, the dull dawn had grown into a mild sunny morning, a strange backdrop to the controlled chaos of an army preparing to march. Gabrielle found herself caught in it, bundled into her role as the new senior legate's attendant, pushed and prodded into action until there was no time to think about anything except the immediate. She had tried to catch Xena's attention several times, but it seemed impossible to break through the eddying crowds of officers taking their orders or the soldiers she was talking to, and the one time she thought Xena had seen her, her face had been unreadable and Gabrielle had not known how to call her.

Perhaps it was for the best. There were tents to pack, fortifications to dismantle, mules to load. Everyone seemed to know what was expected – so Gabrielle let it all carry her along, trying not to think about the previous night. She trusted Xena; she'd always been able to take on Ares, whatever the scheme. If she thought she could outmanipulate him now, then Gabrielle would trust her on that. Xena would tell her everything when they made camp for the night, and then Gabrielle could go to the Amazons – no sense in fretting over a day's delay when there were so many miles separating Rome and the Amazon territories.

Of course she trusted Xena. It was Ares she didn't trust. He had played the protective father to little Eve so convincingly that Gabrielle could not help but be suspicious. Sure, he had loved Eve in his way – but that would not have stopped him from using her for his own ends. Now, when Ares seemed to be hanging back, letting Xena and her insinuate themselves into Livia's trust... It wasn't like him, that's all. Which led Gabrielle to believe that he had some plan in the works, no doubt involving both Xena and Livia. Leaving Xena here, while she herself went to the Amazons, could be walking into his trap.

On the other hand, Xena had insisted that using Ares' help was the only way to succeed, and Gabrielle trusted her – but what if something went wrong? Gabrielle wanted to believe that she would not lay the blame at Xena's feet, would not say, 'I trusted you and you let me down'. Yet deep down, she knew how easy it would be. Gods knew, she'd done it before; Xena was so willing to accept responsibility for anything. The thought frightened Gabrielle. She didn't want to feel a coward, wanted a share of the responsibility – and even that was selfish.

"Jana!"

Gabrielle started, realising that the young soldier had called her several times without an answer. He was a junior tribune, a rank which promised a military career later, provided he'd play pageboy and messenger to the higher-ups for now. This particular tribune was a lanky youth called Rufus for his flaming red hair and freckled skin.

"What is it, Rufus?" she said, squinting at him against the sunlight.

"We're all finished here," he said, motioning over his shoulder. The sharpened wooden stakes used for fortification of the camp perimeter had been removed, the ditch filled. Gabrielle marvelled at the efficiency of so many men working together. Soldiers stood talking, waiting for the signal to march.

"I'll let Semra know," Gabrielle nodded. She turned to go, but Rufus's voice stopped her.

"Hey, Jana," his tone was easier, friendly. "Is it true what they say – that you're an Amazon?"

"I am."

Rufus eyed her suspiciously. "I thought Amazons would be... taller."

Gabrielle grinned despite heself, then, before Rufus could react, she aimed two swift kicks at his shins and hooked his left ankle from under him. Rufus found himself on the ground, an inch away from a glittering puddle.

"Size isn't everything," Gabrielle smirked, holding out her hand.

After a stunned pause, Rufus took it, letting her help him to his feet, conceding her victory. "Wow," he breathed, "You're fast. And good."

Gabrielle let him walk beside her as they made their way past soldiers swarming in the remains of the camp. "First rule of Amazon warfare," she said, squinting into the sun, looking around for Xena, "Never underestimate an Amazon."

Rufus laughed, "I'll remember that."

Gabrielle faltered. What in Hades was she doing? Giving Romans tips on defeating the Amazons? True, it was only one kid and not much of a tip, but Gabrielle's sense of unease grew. She had to get out of there, and soon; whatever Xena's plan was, she fervently hoped it was working. She had to warn the Amazons about this.

"So what's the second rule?" Rufus broke into the thought.

"Never question your superiors," Gabrielle snapped – then felt a pinprick of remorse as Rufus' smile disappeared.

"Guess there's not much between us and the Amazons then," he said with a hint of bitterness. "Romans, I mean. We don't question our superiors either. Especially those blessed by Fortuna herself."

Gabrielle darted a curious look in his direction. "Livia, you mean?" The two of them reached one of the central roads of the camp and headed inwards, to where the command tent was being dismantled.

Rufus hesitated, then shrugged. "Who else? Oh, I know she's a damn brilliant general," he added hastily, "and she takes her own orders from the Emperor. It's just that sometimes... Defending the borders isn't glamorous, and more often than not, you end up with civilians on the other end of your sword. And you feel like packing it when things get real ugly – but that can't be helped." He glanced at Gabrielle, searching for understanding. Gabrielle nodded uncertainly. "But this campaign, it's not about peace for the Empire, is it?"

Gabrielle considered it. "No," she said. "It's about expanding it." And slaughter for the sake of glory, she wanted to say, but did not.

Rufus sighed. "Fortuna's right to favour Livia," he said. "Her cause has always been Rome's safety. But some of us worry, you know – about this campaign. If the Amazons are so scattered, so far away, how can they be a threat? And if they're not a threat..."

He trailed off and Gabrielle waited expectantly. Abruptly, Rufus changed the subject. "So what are you doing here? You're too conspicuous to be a spy. Just a mercenary, then?" He looked at her from under reddish lashes. "You don't seem like the type to betray your folk for a few dinars."

Gabrielle set her jaw, refusing to meet Rufus's eyes. "Second rule of Amazon warfare," she muttered.

"Never question your superiors?"

"You learn quickly."

In the end Gabrielle did not manage to catch a moment with Xena. Livia's quaestor had been posted at the former site of the command tent; Gabrielle reported her unit's readiness to him and headed back for her gear. A little while later, scarcely past midmorning, the bugles played 'move out', and the Roman army was on the march.

There were four legions in total: over twenty thousand foot-soldiers, as well as a modest-sized cavalry unit. They marched in formation, rows of heavy boots thudding against the paving stones of the Appian Way, built to last with the typically Roman enthusiasm for carving their mark into the landscape. Gabrielle rode behind Xena and Livia, too far to hear what, if anything, they discussed on the way. Not that conversation was easy. Even when Xena hung back to ride beside Gabrielle for a while, they could only exchange brief looks of support, could not really talk in the middle of an army. Soldiers marched around them, belting out songs that served to pass the time and keep the rhythm of the march. Gabrielle resigned herself to waiting for nightfall.

Under different circumstances, it could have been an interesting ride. For the first three miles or so, the tombs lined the side of the road – huge edifices for dead nobles, ornate monuments of every imaginable form. There was nothing overtly gloomy about them, but the knowledge that they concealed ancient ashes and corpses was disquieting, and Gabrielle breathed easier when they passed the necropolis and the countryside opened up around them. Tall, almost bare trees held up their many-elbowed branches to the spring warmth, greening with small leaves, and the damp grass was freckled with bright yellow dandelions.

The sun began to sink, and still they marched, along the same road, with the same hypnotising, relentless monotony. Finally, when Gabrielle thought she could take no more, the column halted to make camp in a darkening, insect-noisy field.

Gabrielle was at Xena's tent as soon as it was up and the guards posted. She nodded briskly at the two men as they stepped aside for her to enter, caught herself belatedly and turned back to smile at them instead, but they were not looking in her direction. A single day, and she was already accustomed to ordering men around! How was Xena going to cope with it, for weeks? What right did she have to leave Xena alone like this?

"Hey."

Xena was sitting on a low stool, leaning an elbow on the trestle table at her side, her legs immersed almost to the knees in a pail of steaming water. Her boots lay on the floor in a tangle of laces; she was unarmed, dressed only in her pleated tunic.

"Hey, yourself," Gabrielle smiled, letting the tent flap close behind her. After the fresh outdoor air, the tent was too close and stuffy. A thickly smoking metal lamp sat on the table; its tiny flame threw patches of yellow light on Xena's face. "Mind if I join you? I think I'm out of practice, riding all day. My legs feel like lead."

Xena reached over to drag another stool closer. "Be my guest."

Gabrielle pulled off her boots and collapsed into the seat gratefully. She wriggled her toes in the warm water and reached down to massage some life into her calves. "Bliss," she sighed. "Another two hours and I might be able to walk again."

Xena chuckled, but it was a tired sound. "I doubt we'll have that long." Gabrielle looked up in surprise. "I reminded Livia about the terms of our arrangement. Ares should be in there right now, telling her that he has no intention of looking for the missing baby personally."

"So he agreed to take me to the Amazons?"

Xena's head moved a fraction. "Tonight."

"And he's backing up our story."

"He is."

The leaping light of the lamp created an illusion of movement, but Gabrielle knew that Xena's face was blank and utterly still. Briefly, she considered not asking the question she dreaded – it was hard enough to leave Xena at a time like this; hearing the price might make it impossible. But she had to know.

"What is it costing us?" she said. "What does Ares want?"

Xena did not blink. "Nothing."

Gabrielle leaned forward and took Xena's hands in her own; to her surprise, Xena gripped them tightly. "Come on," Gabrielle coaxed softly, "Please. I can't leave until I know."

There was an uncomfortable stretch of silence. Finally, Xena freed her hands. "You better get ready. There's a towel over there. I had some food brought in, too, and your pack. Ares will be here soon."

"Thanks." Gabrielle made no move to get up, studying Xena's impassive face, silently pleading with her to let down her walls for just one moment. Then something occurred to her; Gabrielle narrowed her eyes. "How do you know he's not here now?"

The faintest shadow of guilt passed over Xena's face and disappeared, but it had been enough.

"You can sense him again, can't you?" Gabrielle demanded. "Why?"

Xena shrugged. "Beats me."

It was such a tiny meaningless shrug that Gabrielle knew. Worse, she realised she had always known, since the previous night, since the moment Xena had suggested asking Ares for help – but there was no denying it now.

"Gods, Xena," she shook her head in dismay. She did not know who she was angry with more. Perhaps herself. "I can't... I didn't – it's too high a price, giving yourself to him..." Gabrielle cringed, it sounded melodramatic, but what was she supposed to say?! Another, horrible thought struck her: "Are you going to be with him now? Lead his armies?"

"No," Xena said in a clipped tone, swinging her legs out of the water, to the pelt on the floor. She took a towel and began to rub her legs, hard enough to redden the skin. "It was sex, Gabrielle – that's all. No armies, no promises, no breakfast in bed. A one night stand, like your poet friend back in Rome."

Gabrielle felt like the air had been slammed from her lungs. She stared at Xena across the now-cold water, then grit her teeth and said, "Stop it."

Xena's hands paused; the towel dropped to the floor. When she looked up, her eyes were hollow and Gabrielle's anger drained away. She hopped off the seat and went to Xena's side, picked up the towel. Xena tried to stand, but Gabrielle shook her head.

"Listen to me." She squatted down, wrapping the linen around Xena's feet to pat them dry. What she had to say would be easier without looking at Xena's eyes, without threatening her. "You told me once," she began in a conversational tone, "that you'd always been able to sense Ares' presence, ever since that battle when he first saw you fight." She glanced up – Xena was motionless, listening, and Gabrielle decided to take that as a good sign. "So you felt a connection, then?"

There was a pause, then Xena snorted, "Sure I did. I was a warlord, he was the God of War. Bloodlust, the joy of the kill. One hell of a connection."

Gabrielle nodded without looking up. "And now, you feel it again. That link with Ares."

"You mean, with my darkness."

Gabrielle finally rose, twisting the wet towel absently, trying to gauge Xena's reaction. "I'm afraid," she said frankly.

"That Ares will win me over?"

"That he already has." Awkwardly, Gabrielle looked down, not wanting to see how the words would sting her friend. She forced her eyes back to Xena's. "You've always been able to find another way, and I know the stakes have never been this high before – but last night..."

Xena stood up. "You really think that one night with Ares will turn me back into what I used to be? A vicious killer?"

Gabrielle cringed. "No. Just that it might make everything even more difficult. You're leading an army again – almost," she amended, "and I know how hard it is to stay sane here, to play this role and convince everyone but yourself. It affects me, too." Gabrielle recalled her own authoritative nod at the guards. She fought back the stinging in her eyes, lifted her face to Xena's. "I'm afraid to leave, to leave you," she said desperately. "But I can't stay."

Xena watched her for a moment, then her face softened. "I made you a promise that I won't let anything come between us. I intend to keep it. I won't fail you, Gabrielle – and I know I can trust you not to fail me, either. If we work together, we can save Eve, and the Amazons. Can you trust me?"

Gabrielle looked into the shadows on Xena's face, and saw only her friend. There was no trace of the Xena that terrified them both – the 'vicious killer', the Xena who belonged to the God of War. Whatever had happened with Ares, it hadn't broken her. Perhaps it wouldn't. Perhaps it had been yet another of those strange moments Gabrielle had long since given up on understanding, something between Xena and Ares. And it was over – she hoped.

"Yeah," Gabrielle said. "Yeah, of course I trust you." She hesitated. "It's not going to be easy."

Xena gave her a mock-puzzled look. "Easy? I'm afraid I'm not familiar with the concept."

Gabrielle eyed her suspiciously: "Was that a crack about my 'poet friend'?"

Xena looked scandalised, "I wouldn't dare! You'd sneak into my tent at night and write ballads all over me. It's bad enough that all our good parchment is covered with the stuff!"

Gabrielle laughed, then squeezed Xena's hand. "You have no appreciation of culture," she said, "but I love you anyway. Don't ever change."

"Can I quote you on that?"

"No."

Xena motioned at the pack on the floor. "Better get your gear."

Gabrielle nodded. "Yeah."

They got everything ready in companionable silence. Gabrielle felt a restrained anticipation in the air, like taking a breath before opening an unfamiliar door. No, it wouldn't be easy – but there was a determination in Xena's bearing that was catching. It wasn't bloodlust or the craving for power that an army could awaken. It was driven by light, not darkness, by the desire to find Eve inside Livia, and to avert a senseless war. It was a good plan, and whatever her fears, it felt good to be a part of it.

It did not feel so good a few minutes later, when she saw Xena tense – and the obligatory blue-silver flash left Ares standing beside her. He hadn't changed a bit, Gabrielle thought. The same black leather, the same easy posture, the same mocking glimmer in his eyes. She expected the inevitable supposedly witty one-liner, but Ares glanced at Xena, and their eyes met. Something passed between them; Gabrielle did not know what it was, only that it made her feel like she was intruding. She coughed self-consciously, and lifted her pack.

"I'm ready."

Ares merely nodded.

Gabrielle turned to Xena, tried to look confident and knew that neither of them were succeeding in that. "It'll work," she said, "We can do it."

"Get them away, into the forests, as soon as you can. If something goes wrong—"

She held Xena's hands. "It won't."

"Excuse me," Ares interrupted impatiently, "I appreciate the touching scene, but could we get the show on the road?"

Gabrielle nodded quickly, squeezed her eyes shut for an instant and tried very hard not to think back to the one time she had asked Ares to transport her – to betray Xena in Ch'in.

"Ares?" she asked tentatively.

"What?"

"I'm not going to owe you a favour for this one, am I?" Last time, it had nearly destroyed both Xena and herself, when Ares had called in the favour to ensure that she was the one who had to kill Hope. Gabrielle shrank away from the memories.

Ares exchanged another glance with Xena, then shrugged uncomfortably. "No. We have a deal; no favours. Not this time."

He did not look away, but Gabrielle noticed his jaw tense. She stared at him, trying to work out the source of his discomfort. Did he regret having forfeited a chance to use this as leverage later? Or was there something else – could memories of Dahak's threat be as hard for him as they were for Xena and herself? After all, the demotion from God of War to Dahak's lackey could not have been a pleasant experience. Not that he didn't deserve it.

"Why ..." she began, but got no chance to finish the thought – a sense of vertigo gripped her, she struggled futilely against it, but it was already pulling her in, tearing her apart, and Gabrielle whirled and tumbled in it, unable to breathe enough for a scream... Then the rich dark smells of earth and spring grass engulfed her, her feet hit something solid and she collapsed to the ground.

Twigs were digging into her palms and knees. Gabrielle fought down dry heaves, trying to still her head. There was just enough moonlight to see, but she didn't need to look around to know exactly where she was.

* * *

Xena blinked at the twin spots of fading brightness where a moment ago, Ares and Gabrielle had been. She was gone. Gabrielle was gone. Xena dropped onto her stool and looked down at the water in the basin, blackness shimmering orange in the lamplight. What had she done? Entrusted Gabrielle's life into the hands of Ares, of all people! He could have taken her anywhere...

Xena leapt to her feet, whirled around. "Ares!"

The flash was piercing white in the tent.

"All done." Ares dusted off his hands in theatrical self-satisfaction and spread his arms wide – "Bye-bye, blondie."

Xena's suspicion exploded into rage – so much for the deal! She grabbed his vest and hissed, "Let me see her, Ares. Right now."

Ares made a point of looking down at her hands, then raised his eyes and tilted his head quizzically. Xena felt her cheeks burn and dropped her hands. "Show me Gabrielle."

"You still don't trust me." There was something wounded in his tone; it only angered Xena more. Ares repeated, "She's fine."

"Prove it."

He made a mocking little bow and waved at the water in the basin on the floor. Its surface wavered, becoming glassy smooth, and resolved into hills of blue-green moonlit forest, rolling into the distance. Suspiciously, Xena watched the view descend. Treetops gave way to branches and the thick mossy trunks of ancient conifers. Watching, she sank deeper, to the underbrush and the carpet of pine needles on the forest floor, where moonlight was replaced by shadows.

And there was Gabrielle. She advanced cautiously, sais strapped to her boots, looking up at the trees. She stopped, listening – then clasped her hands over her head in the Amazon gesture of peace. An instant later, the trees around her burst into life; four armed women dropped to the forest floor to surround her. Xena did not recognise their tribal marks, but evidently this was an Amazon patrol. Gabrielle kept her hands clasped. She wasn't letting her nervousness show, Xena noted with approval. After what seemed like an age, the patrol leader, a tall dark-haired girl, lifted her own hands, and clasped them. The others followed—

The portal rippled into water, and the image broke apart, replaced by Ares' smug reflection. "Satisfied?"

"Bring it back. They're going to take Gabrielle into the vill—" Xena broke off when she realised the water was steaming.

"You know, we could put it to better use." Ares' voice was suddenly quiet, the smugness gone from it as completely as if he had removed a mask. Xena looked up in surprise. He met her eyes squarely. When she said nothing, he waved away the image in the water, breaking it into ripples of lamplight. Xena sat, and felt Ares take her bare feet, and then the renewed warmth of the water. All the wrong feelings woke up in her – but she was not letting this happen again...

"Ares..." She took a breath to demand that he stop, but it caught in her throat. Ares knelt across from her against the basin, the steam gathering in droplets on his brows and along his eyelashes, shimmering on his cheeks. If she leaned forward and touched it, it would trickle over his cheekbones, into his mouth...

She nearly jumped when he touched her thigh. He glanced up at her, then ran his hands down the length of her leg, his gaze following the movement. Xena tried halfheartedly to pull away, but her legs were so sore, and Ares' hands were much warmer than the water. She tried not to close her eyes, not to accept the dissolving tension in her muscles.

He paused to take off his gauntlets, and Xena nearly caught the moment – but his hands returned, and the words came out breathless, without the impatience she'd intended. "What do you think you're doing?"

Ares looked up without releasing her, the flame of the lamp dancing in his dark eyes. He touched the underside of her knees, then sent his fingers higher. "What does it feel like?"

"Bring back..." Xena bit down a gasp, "Bring back the portal. I want to see Gabrielle."

Ares lifted both her feet out of the water to plant a kiss on an ankle. The light scratch of his goatee shocked Xena's heat-softened skin, drawing another gasp. He kissed her other ankle. "Mm... She wasn't part of the deal."

"Neither was this." Xena tore her foot back, afraid of the small regret that nudged her cooling skin. She stepped out onto the floor, dripping water onto Ares' discarded gauntlets. He followed her up. Xena faced him.

"What happened last night was business, Ares – that's all. It changes nothing. I'm not coming back to you, I'm not leading your armies, and I'm not going to be your Warrior Queen."

Ares held her gaze for a moment, then stepped closer. A peculiar intensity in his eyes made Xena pause. He took her hand.

"What if I told you I don't want a Warrior Queen anymore? That I only want you."

She began to respond, sarcastically, but Ares raised his voice to speak over her, "Just hear me out! Xena..." He stopped, started again. "I'm – having urges, ones I'm not real proud of... This is not your standard god obsession, okay? I want to be with you – I have feelings for you—"

"Stop it," Xena pulled away, her temples throbbing, her lip curling incredulously. "Stop this—"

"I care about you, dammit! I see your face everywhere," Ares was speaking so fast she could barely make out the words, "I can't stop thinking—"

"Stop it!" Xena snapped, cutting him off. "You're so desperate, you're trying to convince me that you love me?" The sudden image of her daughter straddling him on the Roman couch, kissing his mouth, rose in her vividly. She felt ill. "The time for you and me has been and gone."

Ares swallowed, looked like he wanted to say something – then straightened his back, drawing himself up. One corner of his mouth twitched into a crooked grin. "Well, it was worth a shot, anyway. I thought with the blonde gone, you might be a bit more... easy-going."

Xena felt her eyes widen, the breath knocked from her. The bastard... She should have guessed he'd try to turn this to his advantage! She tasted bitterness in her mouth. "I knew all your talk was lies."

He lifted his eyebrows a fraction. "You're wrong. I promised I won't tell Livia about you; that was the deal. As for seeing Gabrielle, or anything else..." He stepped back from her. "You know who to call."

In the empty tent, the swoosh of the closing aether seemed strangely loud.

Xena's legs buckled. She sat down on the floor next to the basin, drawing up her knees. The water was no longer steaming. She ran her fingers over the cool surface, disturbing it. Beneath it, everything was dark once again; the ripples of her reflection were fractured and confused, and formed nothing. A gleam of silver caught her eye. She turned her head and saw Ares' gauntlets, lying where he'd discarded them, the rubies in the worked metal winking like droplets of frozen blood. Xena picked up a gauntlet and turned it over in her hands, then slipped it on. She wasn't quite sure why she did it, and it vanished, melting away into nothingness, before she'd have to give it much thought. Instead, she thought of her daughter.

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