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A Twist Of Fate
By: LadyKate
Continued From Page One
Ares took a step back. Good thing he'd taken her to his temple; those shrieks would have brought half the palace running to her room.
He hadn't given much thought to how Gabrielle's mortal mind would react to being crammed full of memories from another timeline, another lifetime. Now, as she rolled on the floor clutching her head, her small body racked by piercing screams, he reflected that some of those memories had to be pretty intense; the Dahak and Hope business alone could drive a person mad. Damn -- she might die, or turn into a raving lunatic ... not that it should bother him, but in that case she'd be of no use to him at all.
The screaming stopped and Ares saw that she had passed out, a little blood trickling from her nose. He bent over her and made sure she was alive, then picked her up and carried her to a couch.
It was a few more minutes before her eyes opened. She stared at him and sat up brusquely.
"Ares."
The little blonde's voice was raspy from the screaming, but she sounded much like her old self.
"Oh, so now you remember me." He handed her a goblet of wine. "Here, this may help."
She drained the cup and dabbed the blood away from her nose. Then she looked up and asked, her voice hushed, "Am I crazy?"
The God of War chuckled. "Not any more than usual, I think." He was grudgingly impressed; underneath all the gooey drivel, the girl did have a lot of stamina.
"I feel like I've had -- two different lives... in two different worlds... but I'm not sure which one is real."
He rolled his eyes. "Gabrielle, I'm not especially interested in talking metaphysics."
"But ... how could this be true? I know that Xena is the Empress now, and yet in that other life she was a warrior who fought for common people -- and she was" -- her eyes flickered and brimmed with tears -- "my friend ... my -- soulmate..."
He grunted. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. Look -- "
"And Caesar..." She gasped. "Caesar was her mortal enemy... he had us -- " she shivered and hunched over, grasping her shoulders.
"Gabrielle, I know what the son of a bitch did. I'm something of an expert on all things Xena, remember?"
"I just don't get it. How could all this have happened? I mean -- where did it happen? When?"
He realized he'd have to tell her or she really would go mad. The bard listened rapt, taking it all in. Obviously, after all the extraordinary things she'd encountered in her life -- her other life -- it didn't strike her as completely insane that a dead Roman emperor would escape from the underworld, chain up the Fates, and alter the thread of his own destiny and the world with it.
"So you're a god again," she said thoughtfully when he was done.
"Yup."
"And Zeus and all the other gods -- "
"The whole gang's here. And if they ever find out that you and I have had this little chat, it's going to end most unpleasantly."
"For you or for me?"
"Well, I was thinking about me, of course," he retorted with a crooked grin; oh, she was so much more fun to torment than Strife, with that look of outraged virtue on her face. "But I can't imagine that it would end very pleasantly for you, either."
Gabrielle seemed to digest this for a few moments.
"So why did you do it? Bring back my memories?"
"I'm surprised you have to ask, Gabrielle. I just want Xena to have her best friend back."
"Oh please," she snorted. "You expect me to fall for that? What have you got up your sleeve?" He mockingly raised his bare arms and she gave an exasperated sigh. "Ares, come on. What's the scheme?"
"You're going to take that job at the palace now, aren't you?"
"You haven't answered me. What's your game, Ares?"
He looked down, fidgeting a little. "I want her the way she was."
"Oh really." Ares glanced at the bard and saw her smirk bitterly. "I would have thought that Empress Xena would be much more to your taste."
"Gabrielle." He fixed her with a glare, and her frightened expression told him that his impulse to blast her to bits had registered fully in his face. "We are not going to discuss my taste in women. Got that?"
The young woman nodded. He turned away and began pacing slowly as her eyes followed him, a little nervously.
"You don't think that the way Xena is now is what she's meant to be, do you? No, I'm sure you don't. So go on, take the job and just -- do your thing."
"If you want the real Xena back, why didn't you just bring her memories back the way you did mine?"
Ares shrugged. "It's complicated."
After a pause, she said, "Is it because she won't have anything to do with you? And to do this trick, you need to have the person's mind open to you?"
"Not quite." He wondered if that was true, though -- if he did defy his family and try to bring Xena back directly, would he able to? "I told you, I have my reasons."
"You always do. Well, what if I refuse to play my part in your little game?"
"You mean, if you walk away from your friend."
He heard her sigh and knew that he had won.
Gabrielle mulled it over. "I assume Caesar knows everything about -- the other time?"
"Clever girl."
"So he knows who I am. I wouldn't imagine he was very happy to see me around his wife." She darted her eyes toward Ares. "You want me to go into the lion's den and stick my neck out for your plan ... because you're afraid to stick out yours."
Generally, whatever slurs she cast on his character could only amuse him, but this time her words stung. "I won't let you come to any harm, okay?" he said, his voice edgy. "I promise."
She rose from the couch and looked up at the War God. With her hair a mess and her dress rumpled, she looked more like a little girl than ever, but her stare was defiant.
"I would have done it anyway," she said. "Because I love her."
When Ares transported himself back to Olympus after dropping Gabrielle off in her room the palace, he was still scowling. His plan was working, but, godsdammit -- in this round, the irritating blonde had actually had the last word.
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When Gabrielle requested an audience the next morning, she was told that the Empress was busy. She had no choice than to wait interminably, with a throng of other hopeful petitioners, outside the hall where the ambassadors from Ch'in were being received. (Caesar, luckily, was away from the palace.) Finally the doors swung open; the emissaries left first, walking stiffly in their exotic embroidered robes. A few minutes later, the Empress, in her formal purple gown and tiara, came out followed by her attendants. The crowd of petitioners stirred, and the bard cursed her short stature. Somehow she managed to elbow her way to the front; miraculously, Xena looked straight at her -- and right past her. The clear blue eyes that Gabrielle now knew so well held no touch of warmth or personal connection.
"My lady!"
People were pushing her aside; another few seconds and there would be no chance of catching the Empress's attention again.
"My lady, please!" she shouted, desperately wishing she could just call out, Xena! "I -- I was wrong -- I would like to accept your offer."
She got some strange looks. Clearly, people were wondering if she was deranged or if she had actually rejected some kind of offer from the Empress; in their view, it would undoubtedly amount to the same thing. However, Xena stopped and slowly turned. Her eyes were still icy, but what she said -- instantly turning the suspicious stares to envious ones -- was, "Come and see me in two hours."
That afternoon, the actors from Athens and their manager returned home without the playwright. Gabrielle, the Bard of Potedaia, had taken up residence at the imperial palace of Rome.
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"What's wrong, Gabrielle? Do you know Ares?"
They were alone in a small room in the imperial library where Gabrielle worked on her first official task of collecting and cataloguing scrolls, and where the Empress would stop by to visit her protégée. In their conversations, Xena generally said little about her own life, letting Gabrielle do much of the talking. But today, about a month after their initial meeting, the discussion had drifted from Gabrielle's play to the general issue of love and then to something unusually personal. Xena had disclosed, albeit in a studied tone of droll nonchalance, that her husband had gone along with her taking a lover because the connection had worked to his advantage. And then, the unspoken puzzlement in the little bard's eyes -- whose good graces could the Emperor of Rome have possibly wanted to buy with his wife's favors? -- had led the Empress to mention a name.
Helplessly, Gabrielle knew that her reaction was written all over her face -- and was reflected in Xena's face, suddenly full of wariness.
She'd never get away with trying to lie, and yet she couldn't tell Xena what was actually going on. The only way out, however she felt about it, was to go with a half-truth.
"My lady..." She felt herself blushing fiercely. "I should have told you... shortly after I first met you ... he came to my room..."
Xena grabbed her wrist. "What did the bastard do?"
"No, no, my lady -- it was nothing like that... he wanted me to -- give you a message of some sort..."
"Of what sort?"
It took a supreme effort not to avert her eyes from Xena's piercing stare. "I have no idea, my lady -- I told him that I wasn't going to serve as his intermediary."
"Good for you. But yes, you should have told me sooner." Xena let go of her wrist and exhaled. "Watch out for Ares, Gabrielle. I think he may have had a plan for some time to somehow use you to manipulate me."
The bard felt a little stab of fear, wondering what she'd gotten herself into. "What do you mean?"
Xena shivered slightly, with an absent look in her eyes. "A while ago ... in the last weeks that we were -- together ... he gave me some very strange dreams and for some reason he planted you in them. At least I think he did."
"Me?" she whispered.
"Well, you looked quite a bit different in those dreams -- dressed like some kind of an Amazon, and with short hair -- but it was definitely you. Your face, you name..."
"What kinds of dreams were they?" Gabrielle tried not to sound probing.
"Weird, sick ones -- about fighting against gods and him becoming mortal ... I'm not sure why, but I think he wanted to persuade me that all the other gods hated me and that he -- " She stopped, her face tightening. "I shouldn't talk to you about that nonsense, Gabrielle. Just be careful. Somebody as innocent as you..."
"My lady." Painfully aware of crossing a line, Gabrielle put her hand on Xena's. "You know that I would never do anything to harm you."
Almost a full minute later, Xena's fingers closed around her hand.
"Gabrielle? I thought those dreams were completely evil ... but now -- " Her voice trailed off and she shook her head. Then she said, "In those dreams, you were my friend."
Gabrielle was glad she was sitting down; her temples were throbbing, and all of a sudden there seemed to be too little air in the room.
Xena moved her hand away and added quite casually, "By the way, when we're by ourselves -- you can just call me Xena."
Later, when she was alone, Gabrielle thought of the God of War. She was dimly beginning to understand what he had tried to do, and why. She still resented the way he was manipulating her; yet on some level, she couldn't help sympathizing.
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While Ares had not heard that conversation, he had heard many others, and he was almost in equal measure irritated and pleased by how things were working out. He was painfully jealous, much as he had been before, of all the hours when Gabrielle was with Xena and he was not, of the affection and closeness between them -- and now, of her ability to get through to the real Xena. But of course, it was on this very ability of hers that he was now pinning his hopes.
Xena was coming back, he could feel it. He had to hand it to the bard, she was no dummy. She had come up with the idea of writing stories, for her friend's eyes only, about some of their adventures from their other life; she'd even had the nerve to keep "Xena" as the name of her Warrior Princess heroine, and to tell the Empress with a straight face that she had chosen the name in her honor.
None of his relatives on Olympus had a clue; why would they? Unlike him, they knew nothing about Gabrielle's place in Xena's life or the unique bond between the two women.
All he had to do was bide his time, and eventually he might well have the best of both worlds. Xena would recover her old self, and now, after everything that had passed between them, she would come back to him. And if the bard had a problem with that -- well, she'd owe him far too much to dare stand in his way.
Ares distracted himself from these thoughts to check up on his girl through a viewing portal. There she was, in her military outfit -- a short black leather dress not unlike his Xena's, only with arm-length sleeves and a golden Roman eagle on the breastplate -- inspecting the twenty newest members of her own elite fighting corps. They included two women, a sight that still piqued Ares' interest no matter how preoccupied he was with one and only one woman warrior. His appreciative eyes traveled over the female figures in sleek uniforms, and rested on a familiar face. It wouldn't be familiar to Xena, of course -- not in this destiny.
He sat up, frowning. It might be a coincidence ... or not.
In the next moment, the God of War was at Xena's side, remaining invisible.
When the short sword sliced through the air, aimed straight for the Empress's throat, Ares was there to block it with his hand -- slowing it down just long enough for Xena to lurch backward, and for the other soldiers to disarm the dark-eyed blonde and wrestle her to the ground as she screamed, "Butcher of Cirra!"
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The dank, stale air of the Roman dungeon made Gabrielle slightly ill, bringing back memories of the other time she had smelled it. She'd rather be almost anywhere but here. Still, she had to come down and see the would-be assassin for herself. She had heard a description of the woman, and knew about the mention of Cirra. Could it be -- ?
The bard handed her pass from the Empress to a soldier of the Praetorian guard. When she looked up at the lanky man, she blinked hard, her mind reeling at the twists the threads of Fate had taken in this altered world: standing before her was Joxer, in a Roman helmet instead of that ridiculous contraption on his head. So he had, in a way, fulfilled his ambitions for a warrior's career -- only to be stuck guarding prisoners of state. No matter; he didn't know her, and that wasn't going to change.
Acknowledging her credentials with a nod, he opened the door with a clang and let her into the cell.
The young woman sat in the corner, chained and clad only in a grey shirt of rough cotton. She looked up. Her hair was matted and caked with blood, and there was a cut on her cheek and a bruise under her right eye -- but there was no doubt at all.
"Callisto."
"What do you want?" the prisoner hissed, sounding so much like -- well, like herself that Gabrielle shrank back. She had to remind herself that this Callisto had not murdered Perdicus, had not, as far as she knew, butchered innocents, directing her vengeance only at Xena.
"I'm just here to talk."
"Who are you?" Callisto sounded wary and a little puzzled.
"My name is Gabrielle. I'm -- "
"Oh, I know who you are now." Her eyes glistened. "That playwright from Athens. The new lapdog of the Bitch of Rome. Why on earth would you want to talk to me?"
"Callisto, why did you want to kill Xe- -- the Empress?"
She smiled sweetly. "Why not?"
Gabrielle sat down on the moldy floor, forcing herself to look into the woman's face.
"Tell me, Callisto -- was your family killed at Cirra?"
The familiar hatred flashed in her deep eyes. "You know what your Empress did at Cirra, don't you? One out of every ten picked for execution? Well, here's how it sometimes works with a random pick ... see, my father and my uncle both won that lottery." Her lips parted in a smile. "My mother lost her mind that day. I'm not sure if the fire was an accident, or she started it deliberately because she wanted to die."
Fire... Gabrielle shuddered.
"Oh, does that make you uncomfortable? Poor little Gabrielle." Callisto's laughter rang in her ears. Then she added, her voice turning grave, "This isn't just for my revenge, you understand. I have another family now, all my brothers and sisters who are fighting for the freedom of Greece from Roman tyranny. But to you, I'm sure, these are empty words."
"Killing Xena would not have won freedom for Greece."
"No." Callisto's nostrils flared a little. "But it would have been such a nice first step."
The bard sighed. "Callisto -- I respect your ideals. But you mustn't allow yourself to be consumed by hate ... even if you think you have worthy reasons for it ... or it will poison your soul. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about."
Having a cause beyond personal payback, and comrades in that cause, may have saved Callisto from becoming a psycho killer; but she still had the same laugh, bright with slightly mad glee, and the same mocking, girlish pout.
"My darling Gabrielle. I am so touched by your concern... but you needn't worry. There won't be time for anything nasty to happen to my soul. Oh, didn't you know? In two days, I'm to be crucified. Do you know how it's done? First, they take your hands -- "
Gabrielle sprang up, fighting back a violent fit of nausea, and banged on the door of the cell. "Guard! Guard!"
Joxer let her out and she fled, away from those words, that voice, that laugh.
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"You want me to spare an assassin." Xena shook her head, her mouth curled in disgust.
"Xena, I want you to be the kind of ruler you can be ... strong but also merciful."
"You don't know what you're talking about, Gabrielle. It would only encourage more assassins."
"Or maybe it would win you some friends."
Xena chuckled. "I'm not looking for friends." She glanced at Gabrielle, with a flicker of warmth in her eyes, and added, her voice dropping low, "Already got one."
The words brought a lump to Gabrielle's throat, but right now she had another priority.
"Xena, it may be an opportunity sent by the gods to..." -- she searched desperately for a phrase that wouldn't be too offensive, and then took a deep breath -- "make amends for what happened at Cirra."
In the next instant, the Empress was back. "You're forgetting yourself, Gabrielle."
Gabrielle held her gaze and said, softly and earnestly, "But I could never forget our friendship."
Xena sighed. "You can be such a child sometimes. You still think that what we -- what I did at Cirra was terrible."
"I know you thought it was the lesser of two evils. But, Xena, that doesn't make it good. Look at what it did to that girl. You -- you made her what she is." Inwardly, Gabrielle winced at her own words.
Xena leaned back in her chair, running her fingers pensively over her medallion with the imperial eagle. After a while, she asked, "So, what would your Warrior Princess have done?"
This made Gabrielle cringe even more: there wasn't exactly a simple answer to the question. Still, she forced herself to speak.
"I think she would have let Callisto live ... and made sure she'd never hurt anyone." Or at least tried to make sure.
The pause was even longer this time. Finally, Xena got up and gave Gabrielle a light pat on the shoulder.
"Banishment to an island. How does that sound?"
The flash of joy on Gabrielle's face quickly faded; what would life on some piece of rock in the middle of nowhere, with a few weather-worn fishermen for company, do to Callisto's already unstable mind? Still, there was nothing else to be done, and she had to be grateful -- whether to herself or to Xena -- for how this had turned out. She looked up at her friend with a slightly strained smile and nodded, her eyes tearing up.
In his halls on Olympus, Ares ran a fingertip over the surface of the viewing portal, shook his head and laughed. Amazing, just amazing. Even having Callisto back in the picture, a little less unhinged and with no divine powers, could turn out to be a source of entertainment ... some sort of good twisted fun ... somewhere down the line. Things were looking good again.
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The trip to the army camp had taken longer than Xena had expected. The sun had already set when she was returning to the palace, looking forward to a hot bath, dinner, and -- oh yes, Gabrielle.
As she rode through the dimly lit and nearly unpeopled streets with her escort of a few guards, barely noticing the bows from the occasional passerby, she thought about taking a trip to Greece together ... maybe even visiting Amphipolis and trying to work things out with Cyrene. If Gabrielle could disapprove of some things she'd done in her career and still look past them, surely her mother could too. Was she starting to look at some of those things Gabrielle's way? That possibility really should have been bothering her more.
Not for the first time, the Empress reflected that Caesar disliked the playwright. When he looked at her, it was with a rather strange expression, as if she reminded him of someone he couldn't quite place, or as if he kept expecting something. He occasionally asked about his wife's "pet bard" in a tone of polite amusement, but Xena knew her husband well enough to sense the hostility underneath the banter. He had certainly been quite displeased, even disturbed, when she told him she'd pardoned Callisto, that girl from Cirra who had tried to kill her. In an ironic yet edgy voice, he had inquired if this was Gabrielle's doing (this time using her actual name), and had undoubtedly seen through her cagey reply. Maybe he felt that Gabrielle was turning her into less of a Roman... Maybe he was right.
She wondered, yet again, what drew her to the bard. Some kind of nostalgia for her own innocence -- if she could even remember it? A fantasy about a different life ... those inexplicably compelling fairy tales about the Warrior Princess ... ? Surely it couldn't be the girl's odd notions about love.
For no apparent reason, her thoughts drifted to Ares and to those times when he tried to get her to believe he loved her. How she would have felt if he did? She winced; Come on, snap out of it. Was she getting that soft in the head? Ares was always out for himself, that's why they used to suit each other perfectly. Did she wish they were still together? Well, it was annoying to have him meddling in the Egyptian war and upsetting her and Caesar's plans, and ... alright, she missed the great sex ... that was all. Suddenly, she got a vivid memory of the moment -- that morning after he snatched her from the banquet and went at her like he hadn't seen a woman in years -- when they lay together and she heard him whisper, his breath warm and soft in her ear, "I love you, Xena." Damn. She jerked her head. Next thing, she'd be remembering those dreams again.
Fortunately, she was already at the palace gate. She rode into the courtyard, brought her mare to a halt and began to dismount when she noticed her maid Thais running toward her, and knew something was badly wrong.
"My lady! Oh, my lady!"
"What is it?" She could feel herself turning pale.
"Oh, my lady..." Thais began to sob. "They've arrested Gabrielle..."
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"What in Tartarus is going on?"
Xena stood before Caesar, still in her military outfit, holding her ornate helmet in her hands; she was slightly out of breath, her eyes blazing. The Emperor, seated at his desk, took nearly a half-minute before he looked up from the papyri in front of him and stared at his wife. The wry little smile on his thin lips was oddly triumphant.
"My Empress. Do sit down."
She glared at him. "Why is Gabrielle under arrest?"
"You don't know? I am sorry to tell you this, dear wife, but there is evidence that she was involved in the plot against you."
She snorted in disbelief. "What plot?"
"Why, that girl who tried to kill you the other day -- Callisto, I believe her name was."
"That's ridiculous."
"Is it, now?" The malice in his smile was now barely concealed. "And why do you say that? Because she has such a sweet, innocent-looking face? But then again, so does Callisto, doesn't she? Or is it because sweet innocent Gabrielle writes plays and poems so she couldn't possibly be in league with assassins?"
"Do you have evidence?"
"Of course we do, my dear wife. We are, after all, a civilized society. All of the evidence will be fully examined before the court pronounces on her guilt -- or her innocence," he added. "And I am sure she will have the best lawyer you can hire in all of Rome." He leaned back in his chair. "In the meantime, I do wish to ask that you do not grant your young friend any hasty pardons. The evidence, I am told, indicates that I was also a target of the plot. So I think you will agree that I should have some say in the matter."
Caesar rose, approached Xena and kissed her hand in a suave gesture, glancing up at her. "You look quite tired, dear wife. You should go and get some rest."
"Caesar." She gripped his shoulder, her eyes probing his face. "What have you got against Gabrielle?"
"Me?" The innocent look he gave her was a bit too sardonic to be truly convincing. "You must be joking. Come now, dear wife, you should not allow your -- emotions to cloud your judgment. The Empress of Rome should be governed by her head, not her heart. Which is not to suggest, of course, that there's any reason for your heart to be implicated in the matter."
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Gabrielle tried to find a reasonably comfortable position on the narrow cot. At least they had put her in one of the nicer cells -- though that wasn't saying much -- and even given her a small table, a stool and some writing implements. More importantly, Xena wasn't even for a second buying this idea of her being involved in the assassination plot. She had come to see her, hugged her tightly and said in a low voice, the emotion just beneath the surface, "I will never let them do anything to you, Gabrielle. Never." (So Caesar was now "them.") She had also asked, looking vexed and almost bewildered, if Caesar had any reason to hate her. Gabrielle couldn't tell her, of course; if she had, surely Xena would have thought her insane.
Clearly, Caesar wanted her dead; he didn't know that she knew, but he was still afraid that her company would somehow jolt awake Xena's own memories of her other life. Would Xena be able to protect her? Was Xena herself safe from her husband? And would Ares --
In the darkness of the cell, there was a sound. Gabrielle lifted her head, listening. There it was again ... the cell door opening stealthily. She was about to whisper, "Xena?" when a hand was clamped over her mouth.
The shock momentarily paralyzed her. In the next moment, strong male hands yanked her off the cot and held her in their grip; the oil lamp on the table was lit, and she saw a man in front of her. The two intruders were guards on the night shift. She was acutely aware that she had nothing on but a flimsy shirt, and the memory of what her first master, Stavros, had tried to do to her exploded in her mind. But what she saw next quickly made her realize it wasn't that kind of attack. The second man picked up the belt from her dress and carefully began to tie it into a noose, while his eyes darted up to a beam under the ceiling and then down to the stool.
She tried desperately to collect her thoughts; the other man's hand on her face had nearly cut off her air supply, and she was getting dizzy. Her only hope was to try to draw on the fighting skills she remembered from her other life, even if her body wasn't nearly as well-conditioned.
With a swift move, Gabrielle jabbed her elbow into the chest of the man holding her. The well-aimed blow took him completely by surprise -- the little bard didn't look like she could put up much of a resistance. Letting go of her, he sagged and crumpled on his knees, gasping for breath like a fish. As the other guard froze in shock for a moment, she spun and delivered a kick below the waist that made him stagger and double over, bellowing in pain. The first one lunged again but she had already grabbed the stool, just in time to bring it down on his head and then to knock out her second attacker too before he had quite recovered.
Panting, Gabrielle surveyed her handiwork. Too bad she didn't know those moves when Stavros tried to force himself on her.
Just then, she heard something else behind her -- it sounded like clapping. The stool still clutched in her hand, Gabrielle whirled around and swung it at whoever was there.
"Damn!"
She found herself staring at Ares, who was rubbing the bridge of his nose and squinting at her with a rather pained expression on his face.
"Ooh..." she winced. "Did that hurt?"
"No, it's my favorite thing in the world. If I'd been mortal you would have broken my nose."
"Well, it serves you right for sneaking up on me after two guys tried just to hang me! I thought you told me you wouldn't let me come to any harm."
"So? I don't see any harm done. I wanted to see how you'd handle them. Not bad," he added with a grin. "They should've thrown a couple more at you."
"Oh ... thanks very much." The rush of energy that had surged through her during the attack had abated, and Gabrielle was barely able to make it to the cot before her legs gave out under her.
"Well, chop-chop. Let's get you out of here."
"Out?"
"Yeah. Unless, of course, you really like it in here."
She rose, her legs still a little wobbly, and came up to him but then stopped. "What about Xena? I can't just run out on her like this."
Ares rolled his eyes. "Wouldn't have her miss out on the fun of arranging your funeral?"
Gabrielle was still hesitating when Ares cocked his head as if listening for something, and then vanished in a burst of light.
"What -- "she stuttered, blinking at the spot where he had just stood. In the next second, the door of the cell was pushed open and there stood Xena, whose eyes widened at the sight of the two still-unconscious men on the floor.
"Gabrielle? What's going on?"
"Oh, Xena..." She was shaking now, tears streaming down her face. "They ... they were going to ..." With a quick motion of her head, she pointed to the belt.
Xena's face became rigid with rage, only to crumble when she looked at Gabrielle again. With a little anguished sigh, she rushed to embrace her. "Oh, Gabrielle... I have to get you out of here. I don't understand any of this, but Caesar wants you dead."
"Get me out?" She swallowed. "Xena... it could be dangerous for you, too..."
"Nonsense. Caesar wouldn't dare do anything to me."
"Xena, please listen ..." But what could she say? In another life time, Caesar had you crucified twice.
"Gabrielle, don't argue." At that moment, Xena sounded far more like the Warrior Princess than the Empress. "Let's go before these bastards wake up." Then she glanced at Gabrielle and frowned, puzzled. "Wait a minute ... you took down two men by yourself?"
"I'm not even sure how I did it, Xena... I don't remember any of it too well..."
"You know, Gabrielle..." Xena patted her friend's arm. "I think you could be a real fighter, just like that Warrior Princess in your stories. Come on."
She grabbed the keys from one of the men and locked the cell door behind them as they left.
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The Empress stood in the dark bedroom, looking at her husband's sleeping form.
She had smuggled Gabrielle out of the dungeon and up to her quarters. Less than an hour later, in a black wig, heavy makeup, and a slinky dress that made her look like a dancing girl who might have been visiting some officer of the imperial guard, Gabrielle had left the palace. Xena had given her money, and instructions to get out of the city as quickly as possible. There hadn't been much time for good-byes. "You will always be with me, Gabrielle," she had whispered, hugging the little bard, telling her not to cry or she'd smear her makeup. And then, impulsively, she had added, smiling as sparse tears rolled down her own cheek, "Maybe it's like that connection of souls you keep talking about."
Now, with Gabrielle safely out of the way, she had to confront Caesar.
Turning up the light, she walked over to the bed, sat down, and touched his shoulder.
"Caesar."
He sat up with a start, and she was surprised to see a shadow of fear cross his face as he looked at her.
"I know what you did," she said flatly. "You ordered the two guards on the night shift to hang Gabrielle and make it look like suicide, didn't you?" He didn't answer. "And the official theory would have been that she was so despondent over having betrayed her benefactor, the Empress, that she killed herself."
Caesar shifted nervously and licked his lips. He looked like he was pondering some options.
"You mean, Gabrielle is dead?" he finally asked.
"I hate to disappoint you, my dear husband." She looked at him with a bitter sneer. "Somehow, Gabrielle was able to fight off your thugs. And now she's safe. What I want to know is, why?" There was sincere bewilderment in her face and voice.
Caesar got out of bed, threw on a gown and turned around. He had regained his composure; the wry half-smile was back on his lips, and his eyes signaled a veiled threat.
"My dearest wife, I don't know what you're talking about. I think, tomorrow, we will hear a very different story from the guards on the night shift. We will find out that the little playwright, who somehow turned out to have the skills of a seasoned fighter, attacked them and escaped in the night. And maybe she had some help."
For a while, Xena looked at him silently, the corner of her mouth twitching a bit.
"Caesar, I've had a vision," she finally said. "It was about us, the first time we met. You remember that, don't you." The Emperor said nothing, waiting for what she would say next, but she thought she saw his shoulders flinch and his eyelashes quiver.
"In that vision, things ended differently. After I took you back to Rome, you had me captured and crucified. And when I said, 'What about us, we were going to conquer the world together?' you said 'There was never any us, Xena -- only Rome, and I am Rome.' And you said you'd always remember what we had because I'd have a place of honor among your conquered."
"Really." Caesar was watching his wife intently; his voice had the usual note of cool sarcasm, but there was a hint of apprehension in his face.
"And as I was being hoisted up on the cross, you said, 'Divide and conquer. You divide a woman's emotions from her sensibilities and you have her.'"
"Anything else?"
"No. Well, your last words were -- 'Break her legs.'"
"How very interesting."
"Tell me something, Caesar. You considered doing that, didn't you."
"Dear me. What a question," he said with a forced laugh, his face a mask of elegant haughtiness.
Slowly, she said, "I think I know now what that vision was about."
His eyes narrowed, and there was no mistaking it now -- there was fear in them. His voice, though, remained steady. "Whatever do you mean?"
She rose. "It means that you were always going to betray me, one way or another. There was never any us, Caesar. Not even Rome. Just you."
Caesar followed the Empress with his eyes as she stalked out.
She was his enemy now, no question about it -- and getting uncomfortably close to some dangerous knowledge. It was time to get rid of her. Accuse her of plotting to have him killed and to seize all the power; better yet, of selling out the interests of Rome to help her native Greece.
Of course, it wouldn't do to have an arrest and a trial out in the open. The scandal wouldn't be good, and the Empress had a large fan base, even in the army. He had to strike before she could reach out to her supporters. Rally his loyal Praetorian guards ... work on those Senators who had never reconciled themselves to the fact that a woman, and a foreign-born one at that, had so much power in Rome ... get her isolated and put her in a position where she would see no options other than honorable suicide or a shameful execution. And he was reasonably certain that he would have support from another important quarter as well: his new patron deity.
"My lady Minerva!" he called out.
Golden light flared, and the grey-eyed woman in dazzling armor of silver and gold stood before the Emperor.
"Caesar."
"My lady." He bowed his head. "I am badly in need of your wisdom."
When Athena returned to Olympus, a touch of a smile played on her aristocratic mouth. The Xena problem was almost taken care of -- just as she had thought all along it should be, as an insurance policy against any possible Twilight scenario. No, of course it wasn't vengeance; such base emotions might be suited to a half-crazed degenerate like her brother, but the Goddess of Wisdom and Honorable Warfare was surely above them... The thought of her brother reminded Athena that something needed to be done to keep him from screwing this up. Oh well, that's what Hephaestus had his trinkets for.
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"Bro?"
Ares slowly lifted his head, snapping out of the half-stupor he had been trying, not too successfully, to force himself into. He wasn't sure how long he'd been trapped like this, the way those bitches Athena and Artemis had left him, forearms bound to the armrests of his throne. At first, he had made his halls on Olympus shake with roars of anguished rage, and struggled so hard that, had his body been susceptible to injury, his arms would have been wrenched out of their sockets. Then, numbness and sheer exhaustion had set in.
Aphrodite reached out and gently caressed his cheek. "So sad..."
He jerked his head away. "She's dead, isn't she."
The Goddess of Love sighed. "Not yet, but... well yeah, that's the idea."
He shivered and closed his eyes. "Sis ... let me see."
She cocked her head at him. "You sure you wanna, like, torture yourself, bro?"
"Do it!" he snarled.
Wrinkling her eyebrows with an impatient little sniff, Aphrodite opened a viewing portal. Xena, her eyes closed, her face very white, lay in a large tub -- in water that was red with blood. Two of her maids knelt nearby, sobbing quietly. She opened her eyes and lifted a hand, crimson droplets falling from her wrist into the water.
Ares turned away, his cheek twitching. "Close it."
Aphrodite waved her hand.
He looked at her again and said savagely, "I have to go to her."
The blonde goddess shook her head. "Ares ... I'm sorry, bro, but you can't save her ... Daddy and Athena and, like, everyone else really think she's got to go."
He bit his lip, his breath coming in harsh spurts.
"Awww, look now..." She perched herself next to her brother and stroked his hair. "I feel bad for you and I think it's totally sweet that you're, like, head over heels in love..."
"Oh shut up," he said through clenched teeth.
" ... and I'm kinda bummed out about the warrior babe too ... but you know something, it's so cool to have things back to normal. I mean, it was such a drag before when almost everybody was gone ... and I missed Hephy real bad. Well, Daddy and the others -- see, they think it's not really safe as long as she's around..."
The War God threw his head back, stifling a groan. "They won't even let me say good-bye to her."
His sister eyed him warily. "Just to say good-bye, bro? You promise you won't do anything stupid like last time ... you know, heal her and give up your godhood?"
A deep sigh rattled in his chest. "Okay, I promise."
Aphrodite thought about it for a minute, frowning a little. "What about the bard?"
Ares jerked his head up. "What about her?"
"Well, shouldn't she be with her too? You know, to say good-bye and all that?"
"No," he snapped, his eyes hardening.
"Come on bro... Fair is fair... I let you go, you let me bring the little bard over, and you can all say your good-byes. So lovely ... so touching ... so romantic..." Teardrops glittered prettily in her eyes, but her face was almost beaming with a beatific smile. Ares glanced at Aphrodite, and it occurred to him, much too vaguely to put the thought in words, that the godhood of war wasn't the only one that entailed cruelty. His sister might have a compassionate side -- she was certainly the only one of his fellow Olympians who had ever shown him any affection -- but everything that had to do with matters of the heart, including the agonies, was part of a little private theater for her enjoyment.
"All right," he said.
"Well let's see ..." She bent down to look at the chains. "I know something about Hephy's tricks ... I think there's a lock right there and ... yeah, here we go!"
The dark god stood up abruptly, and vanished into the ether even before he had walked down the steps of his throne, and before Aphrodite was finished saying, "Now remember, bro, don't do anything stupid."
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The Empress's weeping maids froze when light swished through the air and the tall leather-clad figure materialized in front of them.
"Out." His voice was low but terrifying. "And if you dare bring anyone in here -- "
The two women scrambled away to their nearby room, and the God of War was left alone with his beloved. He came up to her and knelt by the edge of the tub; his lips were trembling.
"Xena..."
She moaned softly, her eyes still closed. "Thais was singing to me -- "
Her whisper was a barely audible rustle, and her face felt cold against his lips, so cold. "Xena... it's me."
"Ares." Her eyelids fluttered open and then closed again.
He put his arms around her shoulders and pulled her toward him. "Xena ... I love you, I love you, I love you -- " He kept repeating it, helplessly, hopelessly, as if to make up for all the times he would never get to say it to her again.
"Funny ... I would ... like to believe that," she whispered. "I don't think anyone loves me ... except ... Gabrielle."
Was this what it felt like for mortals, he wondered, when a blade thrust into one's entrails was twisted in the wound? He could think of nothing to say except to repeat it again -- "I love you, Xena ... I love you..."
"Kiss me," she breathed.
Ares took her face in his hands, shuddering at the chilliness of it, and kissed the closed eyes, the forehead, the bloodless cheeks, the lips that were almost as pale. Her skin had a salty taste, and with a shock he realized that the tears were his. He gathered her in his arms again, cradling her, rocking back and forth. Her head lolled back and her breath was growing fainter. "No, no" -- he swallowed convulsively but still couldn't get rid of the lump in his throat -- "stay with me -- " There was one thing he could think of saying to keep her awake, and he forced himself to give the imaginary blade in his gut another twist. "Gabrielle will be here any minute..."
The burst of pink and gold indeed announced Aphrodite's arrival with Gabrielle. The bard looked a little more like her old self now, in a knee-length dress and boots, her hair short -- the night of her escape, Xena had cropped it so the wig would fit more easily. Her face was flushed and puffy, and what she saw made her burst into tears.
"Xena! No! No!"
Aphrodite gestured to her brother; gritting his teeth, he let go of the dying woman and stepped aside to make way for Gabrielle. Weeping, she embraced her friend, stroked her face and her damp hair, and reached into the reddened water to take Xena's hands in hers, almost choking at the sight of the thin cuts in the pale wrists.
The Goddess of Love touched Ares' hand. "Now remember, bro... you promised ... it's just a good-bye, nothing else. Otherwise Daddy and the others will have my ass. Not to mention yours."
He nodded slightly; even if he did decide to break his promise and heal Xena, he reflected, it would leave him mortal and unable to protect her, and they would likely both be dead within the hour. He looked away, wishing his sister would quit fawning over him. She reached up to peck him on the cheek, and again sighed melodiously, "So sad..." before dissolving in a cloud of sparks.
Ares closed his eyes and leaned against the wall. He barely flinched when he heard Xena whisper, "I love you, Gabrielle" ... That's right, twist it a little more.
"Ares?" The strangled voice was Gabrielle's. "I think she's -- really going now..."
In a second he was at her side. Xena's shallow breath could still be heard but she was no longer conscious.
"Can't you ... do anything?"
Ares shook his head. He touched her face again, and pressed his lips to her hand; for the first time in his millennia of existence, the sight and smell of blood horrified him. Some minutes later he looked up and said, "She's dead."
He rose to his feet. Conjuring up a sheet to cover her, he picked up Xena's body and carried her to the bed. He thought of the two other times when he had carried her like this, dead in his arms -- except that those times, she had only seemed dead.
The War God took a deep breath and held out a hand over Xena. In a moment, she was fully clad in her warrior outfit. He stood over her for a few minutes, gazing on her face, her body -- even drained of color like this, she was so beautiful -- so still, so white. His eyes lingered on the golden eagle on her breastplate, the symbol of imperial Rome, and his lips twisted in disgust; with a quick motion of his hand, he erased it from existence.
Gabrielle, who had been huddled on the floor sobbing, looked up. "Ares ... what are you doing?"
"None of your business." He picked up Xena's body in his arms again.
She got up and walked toward him, a little unsteady on her feet. "Are you going to take her somewhere?"
"I'll make sure she will -- never be disturbed."
She stared at him, tears still streaming, and then gasped. "The ice cave! That ice cave where you put us both back then ... you want to bury her there."
His stare was heavy and blank. "You are smart."
"What about me?"
"Call Aphrodite, she'll take you back to wherever she got you."
"No!" Gabrielle came up and stared at the God of War, her fists clenched, her tear-stained little face stiff with determination. "You have to take me with you."
He snorted. "Since when do you tell me what I have to do?"
"Ares..." Her eyes sparkled, the anger in them momentarily displacing the pain. "Maybe it's the least you can do! You used me in your game and now I've lost everything -- everything!"
"My condolences."
"How…" she sputtered. "How can you love her so much and be such a bastard to everyone else?"
She saw a flicker of emotion in his eyes before he turned away. "A question for the ages, Gabrielle. Why don't you go and write a philosophical treatise about it."
He straightened up and she realized that he was about to disappear. "No!" she screamed. "Ares -- Ares, when you put me in that cave, in a coffin next to hers -- "
Ares glowered at her. "That I could still arrange."
"... you didn't have to do that either, did you? Except you knew that she would have wanted it that way." He sighed and closed his eyes. "She would have wanted me to be there now."
"All right," he grunted. "Come on."
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Shivering in the cold air, Gabrielle looked around the cave. At any other time she would have been overwhelmed by its magical beauty -- the luminous crystals of ice, the gentle veil of white mist that hung in the air. The bard remembered how she and Xena woke up here in their other life, the glare of the sun burning her eyes, the silvery tinkling of the water where the ice had melted. This time there would be no waking up. The tears came again, and then something stirred dimly in her mind. This time...their other life...
Before the thought could develop, she heard Ares' voice. "Well? What did you want to do?"
Xena was laid out in her ice coffin now, hands folded, dark hair -- straight and streaming like that of the Warrior Princess -- spread over her shoulders. Gabrielle came up and brushed the knuckles of a trembling hand against her face, a face now as otherworldly in its pallor as this mystical cave. She bent down and pressed her lips to Xena's cheek, and then looked at Ares. "I'd like to have a lock of her hair."
He scowled but took out his dagger, carefully snipped a lock of raven hair and handed it to her. She slipped it inside a locket she wore around her neck -- a locket that had been a parting gift from Myrrhina, the kind woman who had freed her and helped her achieve her dreams of a literary career. Her dreams ... a literary career ... it all seemed so distant now. Could she ever go back to that life, even if some day she was no longer on Caesar's most wanted list?
"Now get out." His voice was flat. "Wait outside."
The bard walked out, the icy wind stinging her wet face and whipping her arms. She thought of Ares back there in the cave, taking a last look at the woman who had broken through a different wall of ice -- the one that surrounded the human part of the God of War.
Then, with a start, she remembered what she had been thinking before.
In a couple of minutes Ares came out, a single teardrop quivering on his eyelashes and already turning to crystal. He raised both hands, and within seconds a thick sheet of ice sealed the entrance to the cave. He pressed his forehead against the ice and stood still.
"Ares."
He shuddered and gave her a disgusted look.
"Can't you ever keep your mouth shut for a few minutes?"
"Ares, I thought of something."
"Am I supposed to find this interesting?"
"Yes, you are. There's still a way we can bring her back."
Slowly, he turned around. "What are you talking about?"
She hunched her shoulders and rubbed her upper arms, trying to ward off the cold. "The threads of Fate, Ares -- there must be some way to undo what Caesar did with the loom. And then it would bring our world back. The real world."
The god stared at her silently.
"I was right! There is a way, isn't there?"
"Bring back a world in which she's alive," he said. "And just about my whole family's dead -- and I'm a mortal man with nothing except a tumble-down shack and some chickens and a dog -- "
His voice broke off and he looked down. A world in which, Gabrielle thought, Xena would be living -- but not with Ares. He was likely thinking the same thing.
Ares shook his head. "Look, the gods aren't that dumb. The security down there is pretty heavy. And what Zeus and the others would do if they caught me trying to mess with the loom -- well, let's just say that, as Dear Old Dad pointed out, the farm would look very good by comparison."
"So you're scared," she said, well aware of the effect such an accusation would have on the God of War. Of course, it could backfire and he could just blast her off the snowy ledge.
The rage flared up in his eyes for a moment, but then the eyelids drooped again. "I'm tired," he said, his voice unexpectedly soft. "Losing her, finding her, losing her, again and again ... it's too much." She realized that he was talking to himself more than to her. "At some point, it should just be over."
"All right!" Gabrielle spat out. "I'll do it myself."
"You'll do what yourself?"
"Go to the Fates' Temple. I know where it is, remember? Xena and I went down there once."
"You're out of your mind."
"At least I love her enough to try."
This time the fury in his face made her back up perilously close to the edge of the abyss. In the next second, the light flashed around him and he vanished.
Great... now she'd have to make her way down on her own. Oh well, she had done it before -- that time after she and Xena woke up. A little frostbite was no big deal.
Bracing herself against the wind, Gabrielle found something that looked like a path and began her descent. Soon, her hands were raw from gripping the frozen rocks to steady herself, and her legs were growing numb. She wasn't sure how long she'd been climbing when she felt her boot slide on a patch of ice and her feet flailed madly, finding nothing but empty air. She tried clutching at a piece of rock and knew she wouldn't be able to hold on.
Just as her bleeding fingers let go of the rock, powerful hands grabbed her waist and a deep voice grumbled into her ear, "You damn fool."
Well, at least he had kept an eye on her.
Gabrielle felt the vortex of light and air open up around her, and when she opened her eyes she was standing on the grass below. Ares was nowhere to be seen.
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Rome was in mourning, and in shock. Wild rumors flew about the death of the Empress and the disappearance of her body. Nor did anyone know the identity of the centurion who leaped at Caesar outside the Senate doors the next day and stabbed him three times before his bodyguards could react. A split second later they swung their swords at the man, but he seemed simply to have vanished in the general commotion and panic. Caesar was still alive when he was brought back to the palace. The physicians noted in bewilderment that the wounds might as well have been deliberately inflicted so as to cause the slowest, most agonizing death -- though surely, they agreed, the assailant could not have had the time to take such precise aim.
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For the most part, Ares avoided Olympus, and especially his family. He tried to get himself interested in a battle but fled when, to his dismay, the blood that splattered his face brought back a sickening memory of Xena's bleeding wrists. He went to some of his temples and looked listlessly at the offerings. He thought of visiting Cleopatra, and realized that he had not a bit of enthusiasm for the prospect. He tried to remember how long it had taken him to recover when he though her dead for twenty-five years; but everything was so different now, after his time as a mortal and his experiences in this altered world in these past couple of months.
Once or twice, he couldn't resist opening up a portal to see what the insufferable blonde was up to. Well, if she wasn't actually headed for the Fates' Temple. He rolled his eyes. Fine, let her get her silly head chopped off by the Proxidicae the moment she sets foot inside.
Of course, if he were to go there, he could take care of the Proxidicae and unchain the Fates. He remembered how Atropos, the eldest, had looked pleadingly at Zeus. You must allow us to undo what Caesar did. This is a world that was not meant to be. The consequences... Well, what did the old hag know anyway.
In that other world, she would still be alive. And he would have -- nothing.
These thoughts must have gone through his mind about a hundred times when he looked into the viewing portal once more and saw that the foolish little thing was no more than ten minutes away from the temple entrance.
He shook his head.
"At least I love her enough to try," she had told him.
Well, he had loved her enough to give up his godhood. And what did he get? "Thank you." And then, a couple of months later, a tender kiss that made him light-headed with the purest happiness he had ever felt ... until she went on to tell him that he was still bad for her, and that his chances of ever being with her were one in a billion.
The memories of those moments washed over him like a warm wave.
All right, damn it all to Tartarus -- you win. As these words flashed through his mind, he wasn't sure if they were addressed to Xena, or to Gabrielle, or to a part of himself.
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In the murky cavern of the Fates' Temple, glittering swords clashed, sparks flew, and giant shadows danced on the walls as the Proxidicae battled the intruder. The three women watched, mouths agape. They could never have imagined that of all the Olympian gods, the only one who would finally decide to uphold the law would be the one who had always scorned it the most.
The Proxidicae were no match for the God of War. When the last of them had fallen, Ares came up to the three captive women, slightly out of breath and looking very grim. He used his sword to cut the chains that bound Clotho, the youngest of the three -- the weaver of life's threads -- and said, "Go on, do your job."
The amazement on the women's faces abruptly changed to fright, and he already knew what was happening when a silvery voice behind him said, "Not so fast." He whirled around, swinging his sword -- but Athena was ready for him.
"You've really done it now, bro," she said, in a tone as casual as though he had smashed Hera's favorite vase at a family gathering.
Maybe, he thought, he could hold her off long enough for Clotho to re-weave the threads. But then the shadows moved and two other female figures stepped out into the torchlight -- the huntress Artemis followed by his all-too-frequent partner in crime, Discord. What really got his attention, though, was the object in Discord's right hand. He had seen the weapon before; he and Xena had once held it at each other's throats in one of their less amicable moments. The Dagger of Helios, one of the few things that could kill a god.
The unpleasant surprise put him off his guard long enough for Athena's boot to catch him just above his belt and send him sprawling on his back. Before he could get back up, the two other goddesses were pinning him down and chaining his hands; he felt the blade at his neck, the sharp tip pushing against the skin. That other time, when the weapon had been in Xena's hand, he had felt blind rage, at her and at himself, and many other emotions that he did not even recognize then; but he hadn't really been afraid. Now, he knew that the tight, clammy feeling in his chest and in the back of his neck was fear.
"I'm sure you know what this is, Ares." Discord snickered. "So be a good boy and stay down until we take you in for a chat with your daddy." Swooping down, she licked his ear and ran a long red fingernail across his chest. It made him shudder, and she pouted at him. "Oooh, you don't like this anymore?"
Athena, in the meantime, had refastened Clotho's chains and turned back to him. He had expected to see naked glee in her face; but, along with the usual contempt, he also noticed a tiny shadow of regret.
"We're just doing what we have to do, Ares." She sighed. "I'm afraid you only have yourself to blame."
"For a Goddess of Wisdom," he snapped, the anger coming back, "you're awfully full of platitudes."
"Still cocky, are we? Well, I don't think your attitude will make any difference now, one way or the other."
Just then, out of the corner of an eye, he saw something -- or rather, somebody -- that he had forgotten all about. Gabrielle had finally made her way inside.
The idea that she might save the day, however absurd, wasn't so crazy. If the girl had the sense to hide until the goddesses had left, and he could distract them so that they didn't sense her presence, maybe she could free the Fates later -- at least provided that Athena didn't get more Proxidicae down to the temple right away.
Too late: Artemis was already steadying her bow. Ares managed to twist his body and kick at her ankle, and the arrow of the archer goddess only grazed Gabrielle's arm. In the same instant, he felt a searing pain in his neck.
"Discord, you idiot!" That was Athena, her voice momentarily shaken out of its composure. "You weren't supposed to kill him!"
"I didn't mean to!" the leather-clad goddess gasped in fright. "He jerked his head and -- "
He felt the hot, sticky liquid running down to his chest. So much for immortality...I'm sorry, Xena...
The dimly lit temple was growing even darker before the War God's eyes, but he could still see Gabrielle grab a torch from the wall and sprint toward the loom. Shock over what had happened to her brother had slowed down Artemis for a moment, but her second shot was, as always, perfect. The bard shrieked and fell -- but not before, in one final effort, she raised her hand and flung the torch at the loom. It exploded in a giant fireball as the three Fates screamed shrilly in unison, and everything went black.
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Something heavy was pressing down on Ares' chest. He wasn't quite sure if he was dead; if he was, being dead felt uncomfortable but disconcertingly ordinary. He raised his hand, and his fingers sank into a mass of soft shaggy fur. The thing stirred, and he felt a warm wetness on his neck.
Ares sighed.
"Horace. Get off me, you damned mutt."
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Life at the farm was back to normal, to the extent that it had ever been normal: burnt food, demeaning domestic tasks, chickens who stubbornly resisted their destiny as his dinner, Greba the neighbor lady's attempts at what she obviously considered conversation. And dreams about Xena -- now often filled with memories of some of the moments he had spent with the Empress.
Sometimes, the former War God cursed his own idiocy. More and more often, however, he wondered if the whole thing had been a dream.
About a week later, while Ares was in the barn trying to milk the cow, he heard voices outside. Almost knocking over the bucket (not that there was much in it anyway), he ran to the door. And there they were, standing next to their horses, waving and smiling. There she was, alive.
Somehow, he was able to walk toward them and not run. But when Xena took his hand and her lips brushed lightly against his, his self-control was gone; he crushed her in his arms and held her tight, burying his face in her hair.
"Ares!"
"I'm ... I'm sorry." He let go of her and stepped back. "I've just missed you, that's all."
She was smiling.
"That's okay... I've missed you too."
He almost asked "You have?" but then realized that it would sound too pathetic.
He glanced at Gabrielle, and it occurred to him that she might have some memories of the other world.
"So, what about you? Anything interesting happen to you lately?"
"Well, you know how it is, Ares." She smiled brightly. "When you hang around Xena, something interesting always happens... Oh hi, Horace!"
Maybe it really had been a dream. And if not, it didn't make any difference.
"Well, come on into the house," he said. "Guess what I have for dinner. Chicken."
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After tossing and turning for a long time, Ares began to drift off to sleep when he felt somebody shaking him by the shoulder. His heart lurched violently. Finally, it was happening -- she had come to his bed.
Before he could take her in his arms, the oil lamp by the bedside was turned up, and he found himself squinting at --
"Gabrielle? What the -- ?"
She gave him a mischievous little smile.
"I just wanted to tell you it was a rotten thing to do, leaving me at the top of that mountain. But thanks for the catch."
He bolted upright. "You do remember!"
"Everything."
"Damn." He exhaled, falling back on the pillow. "So it wasn't a dream."
After a pause, he asked, "How in Tartarus did you get the idea of torching the Fates' Loom?"
"Well, there wasn't much else I could do at that point," she shrugged.
"Why did you think it would bring back ... all this? It could have just destroyed everything."
"Well, I couldn't be sure," she said. "But you know ... maybe ... it's true that people don't need the gods anymore." (She had almost said "maybe Eli was right," but then glanced at Ares and thought better of it.) "Think about it. Zeus is gone but we still have thunder and lightning ... and Athena's gone and I don't think there's any less wisdom or weaving than there ever was ... and you've lost your powers and that doesn't seem to have made any difference as far as war goes."
"Thanks a lot."
"Well -- so I figured maybe we don't need the Fates anymore, either. We make our own fate -- you know, like Hercules used to say."
Ares rolled his eyes. "If you're going to quote someone..."
"Anyway, it worked."
"Yup."
There was another silence, and then she said, "You know, I've wondered sometimes if we did the right thing. I mean, that was a whole world, and we went and destroyed it."
"The right thing," he repeated slowly, as if trying out the sound of it. " Ask someone who doesn't have to look that up in the dictionary, Gabrielle."
"Well, you know what?" Her smile was bittersweet. "I found out there's something even more important to me than the right thing. Her life."
"Why do I get the feeling you're quoting someone again?"
The bard giggled. "I guess you never saw my hit play."
"Oh, your play. No wonder it sounded so lame."
Ignoring the barb, Gabrielle shook her head. The soft glow of happiness in her face was shadowed with sadness. "Ares ... you gave up your godhood for her a second time, and she doesn't even know it."
He twitched a shoulder. "I guess that's one of those things they call 'ironic.'"
She stared at him for a while, and decided she had to tell him -- it was the least she could do. "She has dreams, though."
"Dreams?" he asked with sudden interest.
"She told me she's been dreaming this whole past week about being Caesar's wife and Empress of Rome, and me being a famous playwright. But" -- she smiled slyly and blushed, turning away -- "I think there's something else that she's not telling me..."
"Ah."
When Gabrielle looked at Ares again, he was grinning wickedly. She thought back to the other night when she awoke at the campsite to hear Xena making soft little sounds in her sleep that left little doubt as to the kind of dream she was having, and then saw her sit up with a gasp, clutching her head and looking a bit shaken. Somehow, Gabrielle felt pretty sure that she hadn't been dreaming about Caesar.
She got up. "I'd better get going."
"Yeah, you'd better."
When she was already at the door, he said, "It'll just be our little secret, right?"
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Before they went away the next day, Gabrielle made herself scarce, and Ares was left alone with Xena to say good-bye.
"So, where are you going now?" he asked.
"To Rome, eventually. Eve is there ... I think it's about time I checked up on her."
He nodded. Uninvited, a memory swept over him of the moment when, that first night, he stood facing Xena -- the Empress -- and then felt her body on his naked skin. He had to lean against a post and bite his lip to stop himself from groaning.
He looked at her and noticed the flush on her face.
"You know what I think?" Xena said. "Maybe I ought to start working on getting you back your godhood. This place is a mess. And one of these days you'll kill yourself with your own cooking."
"On the other hand, I could just look for a different occupation."
"Well, you've said it yourself. You're just not very good at this whole mortal thing."
"Maybe now I wouldn't be very good at the whole god thing, either."
The Warrior Princess stared at him, taken aback. "Why do you say that?"
Ares shrugged. "I've just been doing some thinking, that's all."
"That could get to be a nasty habit."
"You pick up a lot of nasty habits when you're mortal."
Xena chuckled softly. "Take good care of yourself, Ares."
She looked at Ares and found herself blushing again, wondering what on earth was the matter with her. She had always had the occasional passionate dream about the God of War, but nothing like these incredibly vivid images that now haunted her nearly every night, in the middle of this other bizarre stuff about Rome and Caesar. Of course, Gabrielle would choose this particular moment to insist that they just had to go see how Ares was doing back on the farm.
Now, he was standing before her in his leather pants, shirtless, the dagger pendant glittering on his bare chest. The wear and tear of mortality, she realized, was taking its toll; there were some wrinkles on his once-perfect face, and a few barely visible streaks of gray in the black hair. And still, as he stared at her with that hopeful look, his eyes eager yet gentle, he looked so vulnerable and so young, almost boyish.
She leaned forward and kissed him. It was meant to be only a kiss good-bye; but somehow, before either knew what was happening, their mouths were melting into each other, the tongues sparring, exploring, caressing, until they both had to come up for air.
When Ares could breathe again, he lifted a hand to touch her face and brushed away a strand of hair. Her hair... he thought of the Empress.
"What's so funny?" she asked.
"Oh ... just about everything."
She looked flustered but not displeased. He leaned in closer and said, "So ... am I still bad for you?"
"Very," Xena said in a low voice, with just a hint of a smile.
He closed his eyes, his lips brushing against her ear. "Tell you what. You come on back sometime and I'll show you just how bad."
She chuckled again and mussed his hair. "Bye, Ares."
She turned around, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun, and walked toward her horse.
"Ready, Gabrielle?" she called out.
When Xena was already in the saddle, the little blonde came up to Ares.
"Well," she said. "It was good to see you again."
She touched his hand and looked up at him, her lips moving in a soundless "Thank you." He nodded slightly, and found himself silently mouthing the same words to her.
The former god sat down on the porch, absently patting his dog on the back, and watched as the women rode away. When they were just two tiny specks in the rich sun-drenched green of the fields, he smiled and said into the warm evening air, "Sweet dreams, Xena. Sweet dreams."
THE END
* This story is loosely based on the Season 6 X:WP episode "When Fates Collide."
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