Disclaimer: I don't own Joxer, but I do own Jhat. Joxer belongs to Renaissance, and I hope no one minds if I borrow him for a story or two. Warning: This is at least a PG-13 for violence, and there's one scene where Jhat gets severely injured. Don't read on if you're faint of heart.

It was another of her growing number of peculiarities. She always slept with her eyes open unless she was sick, even though she never showed any symptoms of such. Joxer could only shake his head at this strange girl. So full of complexities and complications, and yet so simple and innocent. He knew enough about her that if he had said that aloud, he would've been interrupted before he could finish with her saying something about how she was the profound one and he was the muscles. Kind of.

Her eyes blinked once and her eyebrow rose. "Do you have this strange fascination with girls or something? 'Cause if you do, we can always go to a brothel or something."

Joxer smiled. This was her 'good morning' speech. "No, that's quite all right, Jhat. I was just watching you sleep. I thought I saw you twitch earlier."

"Bug musta crawled on my arm." She absently stood and brushed her arms off. "Let's go."

They disassembled camp quickly and were on the road, talking about anything that came to mind, anywhere from the quality of a sword to why Zeus decided to make the sky blue to why it had to be Zeus that picked everything, and so on. They walked along the path for a while until reaching a fairly large village.

They weaved their way through the marketplace until Jhat's quick eyes picked up about four or five thugs about to pound a wimp into bloody jelly until the wimp shouted and pointed frantically, spying her in the crowd and then yelling and pointing at her. Catching the insignia on their tunics, her eyes widened. No, not them. Not now.

"Hey, Joxer!" She slapped on a brave, if rather sickly-looking, smile and grabbed the taller man's arms. "How about we try this way?" Without allowing him the chance to protest, she steered him down an alley that looked like it opened at the other end. Thank the gods!

Whipping her head behind them and back to check the streets, she cursed when she saw a regrettably familiar head come into view in front of them.

"Well, well, well." The young man, a little younger than Joxer but definitely older than the poet, stood with his hands on his hips and a triumphant smile on his face. His blond hair was a little dirty, but he wore rough clothes of a soldier. "Look what the cat dragged in."

"Tagius." Jhat remarked with a wry little smile. "You're looking better. How'd my poem go with your brother?"

"Pretty hard. Of course, when you shove a scroll through a man's ear, and then kick it in, I guess it'd go hard for anybody."

"What?" Joxer turned to Jhat, whose eyes were trained on Tagius. In an almost mystified stupor, he watched the exchange between two hated enemies.

"Never could get the blood off of it. Must of had a lot on his mind."

Tagius shrugged. "Just the Sword is all. And we know that you know where it is."

"Well, sure, you know that, but you can't really get it out of me, now can you?"

"No, but if we can't get it out of you, we can always silence you."

"Oh, please. You people want that piece of iron more than you want to slit my throat. That would be seriously stupid. Then again, I haven't really known Spartans to be smart."

"You're really asking for it, Khevian."

"That I am." Jhat grinned. "Come get some." She backed up a little, keeping her eyes on Tagius, but speaking to Joxer in low tones. "Get ready to run."

"Jhat, what in Tar-"

"Shut up and do what I say. If, that is, you like living."

"Okay." Joxer staring at her hard. "So, you want me to run?"

"Turn tail and run like Hades."

"Why don't we take this guy out?"

"One, he's better than us; he's very good at apprehending people, and that's his job. Two, this one isn't alone; they like using wolf-pack tactics. Three, if you're safe, I'll feel better."

"What about you?"

"I've done this kind of thing before; I'll be fine." Three, two, one... "When I club this goon, run." She didn't wait for a response. Stepping forward, she grinned, taking one of her scrolls out of her pack and walking towards Tagius. "So, you want an earful of philosopy?"

"How about your head on a stick?"

"Sorry, not possible." Jhat shook her head calmly. "What if I said that I really don't know where the Sword of Aremis is?"

"You're lying."

"Well, yeah, I guess mortals can do that, can't they?" She scratched her head with one end of the scroll.

"You little wench-"

Jhat looked injured. "Oh, I'm so hurt. Is that anyway to treat such an old friend?"

"You fuc-"

Jhat looked stunned, and she wheeled back to clap her hands over Joxer's ears. "I can't be-lieve you'd just start cursing! There's a child about!"

"You're dead meat."

"Nope," Jhat looked at her arm. "Still very much alive and a whole human being. So sorry to disappoint you." She walked forward again, her eyes flicking around for signs of anyone else. Tagius was a poser, but he was still good. But if memory serves me correctly, he's got an old wound that hurts if really agitated. I wonder if Euripides will irritate it enough. I know he irritates the Tartarus outta me...

Tagius moved forward, yanking a short sword out of a scabbard on his belt. "I don't care if my superiors kill me; at least, I'll have brought you down with me."

"Shut up and let's go." She swung at the right side of his head. About there?

She was satisfied when he went down, howling and clutching his head. Jhat wheeled around to Joxer, smacking the thug again for good measure, eliciting another shout of agony. "RUN!"

Joxer turned around and ran for all his worth, running out of the alley and out of sight. Thank the gods. Jhat sighed in relief, walking casually to the closest end of the alley until a familiar silhouette greeted her.

"Ahhh, Khevian. How nice to see you again."

"No..." Jhat's face froze in fear as she saw the silhouette walk to her, the dark shadow becoming a young man with long, brown hair pulled back into a curt ponytail and dark green eyes shining with victory.

"You bastard!!" Jhat charged him, but he just held up his hand.

"Ah, ah, ah, you wouldn't want me to hurt our friend here, now would you?" He negligently gestured and a tall giant emerged from the way Joxer had run, holding the oddly-armored man easily, despite his struggling, in his muscle-bound arms. Joxer struggled some more, but the young man gestured again. Yelping in pain, the lanky swordsman slumped in defeat.

Jhat turned to the young man and raised her arms in defeat. Oh, boy...

Joxer awoke to find himself in a very dark and damp cell. Feeling around for a little while, he found that he was alone, and that there was a bowl of water for him. In the dampness, he found an strong, oak door that felt like it could take quite a while to break it down. There was a mildewy smell in the air, and he wasn't wearing any of his armor, nor did he have his sword.

Where am--oh, I remember... Jhat! His brown eyes widened. If she got hurt, I dunno what I'll do...

"I want to see him. I want to know he's all right," came a muffled voice from behind the door.

"You're going to have to take my word for it, Khevian. Surely, my word means something to you?" That was a different voice, Joxer reasoned. It was deeper, and sounded quite calm. Khevian? Where have I heard that name before?

"You can go to Hades for all I care, just like you sent my parents when they wouldn't tell you."

"Oh, is that any way to treat an old friend?"

"I could say something bad, but I'll refrain from it since I'm not scum like you." That sounded like Jhat, now that he realized it. Jhat certainly had one foul mouth.

"Brutus, get the fool out of his cell. If she won't answer when asked politely, maybe she'll respond under... other circumstances."

"You bastard!"

Suddenly a bright light hit Joxer straight in the eyes, blinding him momentarily as he was lifted to his feet roughly and shoved out of the cell he was in. Covering his eyes with one hand to get used to the light, he found himself in a room with an assortment of torture devices and a fire pit to keep any of said devices nice and red-hot. The young man sat at a table across from Jhat, and the giant that had grabbed him in the town now stood behind him menacingly.

"Brutus, tie him up over there." He waved at the general direction of two posts that reached from ceiling to floor and looked three or four inches thick. "Now, Khevian, where is the Sword?"

"I'm not telling you, Barak."

"Brutus, whip the fool."

Brutus took a whip from the wall and ripped open Joxer's shirt, revealing his back to the chilly air. As he raised his arm to strike the whip, Jhat shot up from the chair. "Stop!" She turned to Barak, desperation in her eyes. "I'll tell you where it is, whatever you want. I just don't want him hurt."

"Very admirable of you, Khevian." Barak nodded approvingly. "It shows great nobility when you won't let a friend get hurt."

"Frick you, Barak." Jhat's eyes narrowed. "I still hate your guts, and the only reason I'm telling you is because of Joxer." Joxer looked at her with a confused look on his face, but she waved her hand impatiently in a 'Later,' statement. She looked down at Barak coldly. "Let's go."

"Not so fast, Khevian. I particularly don't want you to tell me."

"I take it you want me to show you?"

"Yes, since you'll be silenced."

Jhat burst out laughing. "Oh, please. You're not gonna do one of those 'gut me and read my entrail' things, are ya?" Her expression was still a little cocky, but her mouth twitched nervously.

"No, that's not really very humane, and your guts won't actually tell us where it is. We'll just burn your throat."

Jhat looked like she'd been hit with a house. "What?" Before she could ask further, Barak gestured to the hulking giant and he took a poker from the fire pit.

"Oh, nononononononono-" Jhat babbled, and she fought with such an animal-like desperation that she managed one of her arms out of Brutus' hold, but he merely took hold of her more firmly, almost breaking her arm. She screamed.

"Let her go!" Joxer struggled against his bonds, but wasn't strong enough. He could feel the ropes giving, but they wouldn't break.

"Not a chance." Barak shrugged, sipping at his flagon of wine that Joxer hadn't seen previously.

Taking the poker, Brutus forced open the thrashing poet's mouth and shoved the poker in quickly, her scream of fear bubbling into a gurgle. Her eyes rolled back as she feel the burning iron press against her voice box. With sickening clarity, she felt the skin around it char, and her green eyes rolled back as she went unconscious from the pain.

"You cruel, heartless..." Joxer was stunned as he saw Brutus lay Jhat gently on the floor and place the poker back in the fire pit.

"She can't be allowed to tell where the Sword is." Barak shrugged. "This way, we don't have to kill a little girl."

"Killing her would have been kind!" Joxer shouted angrily. "How can you be so sick?"

"Because I can."

"What is this Sword anyway?"

Barak's left eyebrow rose in surprise. "You mean, she hasn't told you?"

"I only met her a few weeks ago. And what was that about you killing her parents?"

"The Sword has been a legend in her family, passed down from parents to children. Since her parents already had her, and she was old enough to know the legend, I gave them a choice: either tell me where the Sword is, or die. They refused to do either, so we set their house on fire. Little Khevian survived."

It was a long while before the blood-innocent wanna-be found his voice again. "Why do you call her Khevian?"

"That's her name." Barak looked at his captive a bit strangely.

"I thought Jhat was her name."

"Jhat?" Barak caught interest immediately. He leaned forward a little, unconscious of it as he questioned him. "Did you say Jhat?"

Joxer nodded. "Yeah... What does it mean?"

Barak smiled down at the unconscious girl maliciously. "Oh, my little Khevian. Special, aren't we?" He regarded the girl alone. "Brutus, take Khevian up to one of the guest rooms. Tell me the minute she wakes up."

"What about me?" Joxer asked a little petulantly.

"I'm sure standing will do you some good. And you'll be staying here, of course. Just in case Khevian wants to back out on the deal." With that, Barak calmly stood and left the cell, smirking and bowing mockingly to Joxer as he did.

Joxer, still tied to the post, sighed. Jhat...

Green eyes popped open, and the owner of them found herself in a room with a huge canopy bed, expensive looking silks draping down from the bed frame like long, multi-colored spiderwebs. Swallowing a little, she winced when it traveled past her voice box. She could feel where the poker had burned her, and it made her shiver. Sitting up, she could barely see the food that was placed on a table outside of the bed's thin curtains.

Food! Finally! She thought as she struggled her way out of the bed and burst out of the wall of silks. She reached the food, but stopped. Whoa. Hold your horses, kiddo. Where in Tartarus am I, and what's with the hospitality?

Nervously, she picked at the food, seeing a very nice dish that looked like Joxer had made it. The door opened, catching her attention. Her eyes narrowed when she saw it was Brutus, the hulking brute that had shoved the poker down her throat. Imperiously waving her hand, she dismissed him. Wait for Barak. This guy isn't worth your time. That, and the fact that he could snap you like a twig.

I'm still with Barak. Great... She sat down and started wolfing down the food, making sure not to get herself dirty. Despite what she thought of Barak, she knew that the man wasn't going to poison her; not unless she had kids that she had told the legend to. Shuddering at the visions of the burning house, Jhat shook her head, polishing off the food and looking around. She was still dressed in her colorful clothes, which was somewhat of a relief. Of course, her pack was nowhere in sight.

The room where she was being held was ornate, with silks draping down from the walls, and as she had noticed earlier, used as the curtains for the canopy bed. She wished that she was with Joxer, but then again, who knows what they did with him? Another thing Barak's going to pay for dearly...

She took a deep breath and pressed around her throat carefully. With sickening clarity, she could feel her voice box there, but it felt really bad. Wonder if I can still talk? I doubt it, but still...

The door opened, and the regrettably familiar face of Barak entered. Jhat's eyes narrowed, and her mouth twitched a little into a sneer, but other than that, she tried to appear non-threatening.

"So, Jhat." Barak said her name deliberately, smiling as he did so. "How are you feeling?"

She forced the rather violent thoughts of what she wanted to do to him to the back of her mind, gritting her teeth as she glanced around the room. She might not have been able to talk, but if she had a scroll or something, she could talk that way. She didn't like being mute, but she had no choice because of this monster, and writing was the next best thing.

"What is it?" Barak asked curiously, his eyebrows raising as she now consciously looked around the room for something to write with. She made an exaggerated gesture that was supposed to look like she was writing something on a scroll. Fortunately, Barak was a quick learner. "Oh, you'd like to talk back by writing some insults, hmmm?" His smirk returned.

Jhat rolled her eyes. Where is Joxer, you dork? Patting herself down, she managed to find a scrap of vellum that must have ripped off one of her scrolls or something and saw a feather quill on the desk across from the bed. Hopping off the bed, she went over to the desk and snatched the quill.

Where is Joxer? she wrote in legible, if not small, letter on the scrap, showing it to her captor.

"You mean the fool? He's safe. For now."

Barak read over her shoulder as she wrote it down. "Soon enough, Jhat."

"Joxer did. He didn't know what it meant or anything about the Sword."

Barak nodded. "We've known each other long enough that I know when you're lying. And if you do, Joxer will pay for it."

"You wound me, Khevian. You'll see him soon enough when you lead me to the Sword."

Jhat looked at Barak sincerely, trying to keep her anger and frustration out of her expression. Please?

Barak looked her, weighing his options. She could let him go if she visited him. But then again, where would the fool go? She's in no position to tell him anything. Not writing anything down anyway... "Fine." He shrugged. "But you can't talk to him."

Jhat looked nervous, but reluctantly nodded. Dammit. I needed him to find someone... She sighed, and Barak opened the door for her. Nodding to him politely, Jhat stepped through and was shown down to the dungeon where Joxer was being kept by Barak's huge servant. The two of them reached the dungeon in a short while, and Brutus opened the door for her, but made no motion to follow her when she went inside. That's something at least... Jhat thought to herself with relief.

She saw Joxer, still tied to the two posts. He looked uninjured, but his eyes were red and his head hung down, his mussed, brown hair hanging loosely. Going to his wrists, Jhat started working at the ropes before the young man looked up and saw her.

"Jhat!" He breathed with relief. "You're all right!"

Jhat nodded, managing to work off the rope and saw that his wrist was cut and bleeding a little. She tried to use her thumb to wipe away the blood gently, but Joxer caught her with his arm and brought her close to him. Jhat could feel Joxer's hand rubbing her back soothingly as she placed her chin on his shoulder, allowing herself to feel comforted by his strong embrace.

Pulling back, she stared into the blood-innocent's eyes. They were so wide and innocent, and full of ...guilt. "Jhat, are you-" He stopped himself, images of the poker down her throat stopping him. "That's a dumb question, isn't it? Of course you're not." His voice got quieter. "And it's all my-"

Jhat stopped him with a firm finger to his lips. She firmly shook her head. No, Joxer. This isn't your fault. You didn't know anything about this. You can't take the blame for it.

"Jhat, are you able to- I mean, can you still-"

Jhat looked away for a second, taking a deep breath. Let's see...

"Joxer." Jhat could feel the words forming on her lips, but she wasn't sure if she was actually speaking, if she was imagining herself doing so. "If you can hear me, answer me this. If you had known I had killed someone, would you have still traveled with me?"

Joxer looked at her for a long while. "Of course. Just because you've killed someone, it doesn't mean that I wouldn't be your friend."

Jhat turned quickly to Joxer. "You heard me?"

Joxer nodded. "Your voice sounds really bad. It almost hurts to hear it."

Jhat smiled mischievously. "Good." She went immediately to the lanky swordsman's other wrist, and started at the knots there. "Then you can do something for me."

"What?" Joxer was a little apprehensive.

"I need you to run." Jhat tugged on the rope. "Get out of here. Fast."

"I can't leave you here!" Joxer protested vehemently. Jhat turned menacing, green eyes on her friend.

"Do it." Her rasp was cold and a bit scary. Oddly enough, it reminded Joxer of his brother Jett, but this voice was definitely more frightening because of why she rasped. "I don't want you to get hurt. Barak might begin to think you know about the Sword and just give you over to his goons. They like anything bloody, Joxer, and I'm not going to sit back and watch you be killed. I've had too much violence and death in my life; I don't want more."

Joxer nodded reluctantly. "But how do I get out of here?"

Jhat grinned, reminding Joxer of Callisto. "One of these cells has a few loose bricks. I never used it to escape before since that would've brought it to Barak's attention. I wanted to save it; use it for when I was really in danger."

"Like you weren't in danger now?" Joxer asked her incredulously. Jhat covered his mouth with her hand.

"Jox, they always do this threatening bit, and I always managed to escape before they beat me or forced me. Only thing is, I couldn't run 'cause that would've meant leaving you here, and I'm not about to let them hurt you."

Then it is all my fault... Joxer thought to himself as he looked over the poet's young face. The death and misery seemed to hang on her face like a dark cloud, especially around her eyes, and she looked older.

"Joxer." Jhat stared at him. "I know what you're thinking, and no, this isn't your fault."

"Jhat-"

"No. Now listen to me, and listen good. Were you lyin' when you said that you knew Xena?"

"No." Joxer shook his head. "You want me to tell her that you've been kidnapped?"

"No. Tell her that Barak has the key to the Sword of Aremis."

"But that won't make any sense to her."

"Believe me. If Barak wasn't lying, then she and him have had some run-ins before, and she knows about the Sword."

"Does she know where it is?"

Jhat shook her head. "No. I'd never tell a single soul. That's how dangerous the Sword is. All she knows about it is that in the hands of a warlord, it'll give them more power than Ares."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not even going to tell you, Joxer. The only thing I'd feel safe telling you is that 'Aremis' means 'the Downfall of Death'."

Joxer's eyes widened. "That powerful?"

"It's like hind's blood for Ares, and any other god that represents a destructive force in Nature."

Joxer mulled that over for a moment or two. "Is Barak working for Ares?"

Jhat looked at him in surprise. "You're smarter than you think, Joxer. Either he's a servant of Ares, or he wants Ares' godhood." She kept tugging and in a minute or so, he was finally free. "Now, let's find that cell." Checking the three doors, she found that they swung open easily, and there was no one inside any of them. "Joxer, you check that cell." Jhat pointed to the first cell on the right. "In the back and close to the ground, there should be some bricks that will give when you push on them. If the bricks won't give, check the other cells. It's been a while." She admitted with a shrug.

"What about you?"

"Gotta make sure no one can come in." She took the poker that was still sitting the fire pit and wedged it under the door. Kicking it in a little, she smiled with satisfaction. "That oughta do it."

Joxer checked the cell's back wall, and found the bricks began to give under his pushing. "Jhat! The bricks are giving!"

"Good. Let's go." Jhat entered the cell and closed the door behind her, leaving the pair in total darkness. Kicking the wall sharply, Jhat grinned as she saw a ray of sunlight filter in between the bricks. "Push on the wall."

The two alternated between kicking and pushing until three or four of the blocks of stone fell out and there was a hole large enough for Joxer to crawl through easily. Suddenly, Joxer could hear noises from the other side of the door. In the sunlight that now hit Jhat's face, he could see her eyes widen in fear.

"Joxer, run!" Her rasping voice broke. "Now!"

"You go first!"

Jhat wheeled around to him, her startling green eyes blazing, and grabbed his shoulders, shoving him through the hole. Planting a boot on his posterior, the poet gave a hard shove and turned around, standing at a defensive position. Straining her ears, she could hear someone... no, make that two someones, searching the room. With a speed born of desperation, Jhat managed to get two of the stones back in place before the door burst open.

"Now, you've made me mad, Jhat Khevian."

Her eyes narrowed, as she turned around and met the eyes of Barak. She smiled defiantly at him, causing him to smack her hard with a fist across her face. "You're going to pay for that, Khevian." He kicked her in the stomach, sending her to the ground in a haze of pain.

Any gods who've decided to listen to me, protect him. She absently felt Barak's fists pounding into her again and again, joined occasionally by his foot. Feeling his foot jab her painfully in her throat, she almost screamed. Please, I'll do anything in return, just protect Joxer. The fists pounded harder and harder, the mocking voice the last thing she heard before she passed out.