The Dreams of Children

Written by TZ
Edited by PD Wonder

Part Four
Copyright September 10, 1998

See Part One for Disclaimers

The god contemplated the man that lay in a drunken stupor upon the side of the road. With a snarl, he struck him with a boot to his ribs. "Wake up, you fool."

Bleary, blood-shot eyes opened and strained to focus on the dark figure that loomed above. "Ares," he gasped as his alcohol-soaked mind caught up.

"That's right, Atrius. I need you...for something special. I really think you're gonna like it. But you're gonna have to straighten up. No more strong stuff for you," the god said as he pulled a skin of port from the warrior's arms.

Atrius struggled to stand; he wavered on legs that he could barely feel. "Anything for you, my lord. What is it that you want of me?"

Ares stroked his beard and chuckled. "I am going to give you the opportunity to fulfill your greatest wish."

Atrius wiped a scarred hand across his mouth and blinked his eyes. His body shook with the need for port; he cursed when he found that his skin was not tied to his belt. Ares had taken it from him that morning.

A moan slipped between clenched teeth and he rolled to his side. His stomach heaved violently and he lost the dinner that he barely remembered eating. "Ares," he mumbled pitifully, "please, just a sip. I only need a taste."

The feral god materialized. With a growl he knelt at the warrior's side and took him by the shoulders. With a firm shake, he gained Atrius' attention. "You listen to me, you pathetic little mortal. I am going to have my revenge on Xena. She made me look like a fool. She betrayed me!"

Ares took a deep breath and regained his composure. "You have one week. If you aren't ready for me by then, I'll make sure that you suffer miserably in the lowest pits of Tartarus, you got me?"

"Yes, my lord," the trembling warrior promised.

"Good," Ares replied. "Once our bargain is completed, you can have your precious drink. It will be like the sweetest of nectar when we raise a toast to your daughter's death."

Atrius closed his eyes when the god released him. He fell back to his bedroll and exhaled on a ragged sigh. When he opened his eyes again, Ares was gone. His body was wracked by another wave of shudders and he cried out for relief. He became delusional, for the pain was so great. With each debilitating tremor, he remembered how he had sunk so low, to be a vagrant, wasted warrior for hire. He blamed the witches with dark hair and light eyes. They were the tormentors in his nightmares.

Xena was the jewel of his three children; she showed the most promise. She was bright and strong. He was forever boasting of her superior skills. Watching her grow up was like revisiting his own childhood. She even shared his temperament.

One day, though, when she was still but a child who sat at his feet by the fire, he was visited by a vision.

The day that he saw her lash out at her older brother in blind anger, he knew fear. For the briefest of moments, he saw the fire that danced in her crystal blue eyes. He saw in her the ability to fulfill the prophecy. He dragged her home that day. He planned her death that night.

She was only a child. It should have been simple.

He crept into her room that night as she slept. For just a moment, he was transfixed by her sleeping innocence. He must have made a noise, for Cyrene entered the room and demanded to know what he was doing.

His intent was obvious in the way that he held his dagger aloft over the little girl's chest. The light of a single candle glinted menacingly from its pristine blade.

He barely saw his wife launch herself at him, for she moved so fast. It was as if Artemis, protector of the young, gave her strength and speed. Cyrene knocked him off his balance and drove the dagger into his shoulder. As he lay bleeding in his daughter's room, his beloved wife of twelve years leaned over and warned him. She threatened to slice his throat if she ever saw him near her children again.

He fled in the face of his own shame and failure. He roamed across the land through unknown villages. Somewhere along the way, he picked up a mug of strong ale. He found peace only when the seductive drink drove him to oblivious slumber. He could not remember being sober for a single day for nearly twenty years.

He knew the stories of his daughter. He heard hardened warriors whisper her name in dark taverns; they trembled with fear or spoke of desires to join her. Part of him wished that they would meet somewhere so that she could end his suffering at the end of her tainted blade. Fate, however, deprived him of even that small satisfaction. Never had their paths crossed until now.

Ares was offering him the chance to turn the tables on her. Xena of Amphipolis, daughter of Atrius and Cyrene who was once called the Destroyer of Nations, was going to be sacrificed to the God of War's bloodthirsty will.

Xena had made an enemy of Ares when she turned her back on him. The war god told Atrius of the dark promise he had made to her. Everyone she loved would die. The warrior spared no tears for the youngest son he had lost in the battle of Corinth. He was one less obstacle. Cyrene would suffer, however, as would his oldest Toris.

Most of all, though, Ares emphasized the importance of a young bard. The young woman, whom Atrius only remembered as an irritating little blonde child, would be the one to draw his daughter into their trap. She was the one whom Xena loved most. Her death would cause Xena the most pain.

He could taste their blood on his blade; he could hear their cries for mercy. Ares promised him that he would be the one to take Xena to her end.

Atrius smiled in his sleep. He would be the faithful disciple who would deliver the Betrayer.

The next morning, Atrius woke feeling better than he had the day before. His body still trembled and his hands still itched to be holding his skin of port. His mind, though, was clearer than ever. He understood his purpose and destiny. He was determined to make himself worthy of Ares' revenge.

Climbing out of his bedroll, the warrior stumbled to the frigid lake near his camp. He removed leather and armor that had not seen care in years. Throwing the bundle into the cold water, he soon followed.

The icy bath cleared his mind and invigorated his body. Sparing no time, he retrieved his tools of war and returned to his camp. For most of the day, he polished and made repairs to his clothes, armor, and weapons. By the time that evening necessitated a fire, they glowed by the flame's light.

With nothing to occupy his hands, he stood and began a sword drill that he remembered from his early days of training. With each down stroke and lunge, he pictured his daughter's lifeblood flowing through his fingers. The night rang with the evil tones of his maniacal laughter.

For Atrius, the days that followed were occupied by drilling and planning for the attack. He was reborn as a warlord focused on death. With each drill he practiced, he regained his balance and strength. His mind was consumed with thoughts of revenge; he ached to see look on his family's faces when he fulfilled his god's desire for vengeance. He was eager to begin.

Ares was impressed when he returned to find Atrius waiting impatiently for him on the seventh day. The warrior was sober and ready to lead the war god's army.

Waving off Atrius' salute, the god nodded in approval. "You want this bad, don't you, Atrius?"

"Yes, my lord. Xena must die for her mistakes."

Ares chuckled and nodded his head. "That she must, my vengeful friend. That she must."

"I await my orders, lord Ares," Atrius spoke eagerly.

"I like you, Atrius. It's too bad this situation didn't arise years ago when you were younger. We could have had some fun then."

"We still can," the warrior replied.

"Oh, and we will, I promise." Ares wiped a non-existent smudge from Atrius' armor before spinning on his heel. "I have gathered an army loyal to me. You will lead them to attack Amphipolis. I want no one spared. I want everyone wiped from the face of the earth."

"I understand, lord Ares. Take the village. Kill them all. It will be as you wish."

After Xena had defeated Skaridran and dispersed his army, Ares knew that it was time to get his revenge. His former disciple was making a mockery of his name. It had taken him some time, but he had found the perfect plan.

Ares stroked his beard. He fought to still the trembling of his hands; dark glee was coursing through his god's blood. He waited eagerly to see the battle fought. Closing his eyes, he pictured the carnage.

His plan was brilliant. Xena worshipped her father; she based her entire life's dream on a wish to please him. To have Atrius kill the young bard that had found a place in the warrior's heart was genius. The irritating blonde had turned the warrior's heart against him. He would have Gabrielle's for breakfast.

Xena's hero worship of her father and her growing love for Gabrielle was all that Ares needed to destroy the one who betrayed him.

"So, what were you feeling when you called Skaridran out in front of his men?"

Brooding silence met the bard's question. Homer had been following Xena for six months; he was relentless with his queries. Her nerves had been rubbed raw by his dedication to perfecting the story about her defeating Skaridran. She tried to lose him in the dense forest; she tried to outrun him in the open fields. He managed to keep up, nonetheless.

"And when you defeated him, how did you know that his army would just leave like that?"

Xena glanced over her shoulder to the bard who refused to be left behind. He followed her like a foolish puppy or, she mused wickedly, a bad rash picked up in a brothel. His questions flowed like a rushing stream that eroded even the hardest of stone. Xena set her jaw in annoyance.

Part of her enjoyed his company, especially when he chose to be quiet. The other part truly feared for his safety. They had met several bands of raiders and common thugs; he had nearly lost his life twice already.

"So, where are you going now? Are you going to save another town?"

Argo moved to a fast trot when the warrior laid her heels heavily into the mare. When Xena saw that the bard was running to keep up, she pulled back on the reins. She bowed her head and shook it in frustration. "Look, bard...."

"Homer," the bard corrected.

"Yeah, Homer, look, I think that maybe you should quit following me. You might have noticed that I tend to meet the wrong kind of people. You're only going to get yourself killed if you hang around."

"But I have to know about you. How else am I going to tell stories about the Warrior Princess?"

"Who?"

"You, the Warrior Princess," Homer answered. "Someone has to spread your heroic tales." The bard fidgeted under Xena's sudden intense blue regard. Her eyes became distant; he wondered what she was thinking.

After defeating Skaridran and disbanding his army, Xena continued to make her way north through Thessaly. Along the way, she found evidence of her destructive march through the region. Even after so many years, villages were still recovering from the Destroyer of Nations.

Those who knew her followed her with wary eyes; she had to defend herself against several challenges from angry townspeople. She was not always met with hatred, though. Homer spread his tale of Carinoc; some saw her as a tainted savior. A few villages had even requested her help to dissuade raiders who were taking advantage of their rebuilding. Her cooperation, she believed, was her only option since she was the reason that the Thessalians were unable to defend themselves. She had, after all, killed many of their young men.

After a few months of wandering from town to town, her reputation as a peacemaker spread like wildfire on a hot summer's breeze. She was uncomfortable when her successes were greeted with words of gratitude and praise. She believed that it was her responsibility to help these people; she had no choice in the matter. Hers became a crusade of atonement.

By the time that she and Homer crossed into the region of Macedonia, she was sung of as a hero. She never heard the stories; she still preferred a solitary existence. She used her time of quiet to reflect on her life's changes. Things were beginning to come together. She could almost feel good about herself again. She was preparing herself to meet her fate.

She was almost ready to complete the circle.

Xena sighed again as she bent to rest a forearm on her thigh. "Look, Homer...." Xena tensed when she felt a crawling sensation lift the hairs at the nape of her neck. She straightened and unsheathed her sword. When a leather-clad god materialized ahead on the trail, her face contorted savagely. "Stay back," she warned the bard.

Dismounting, she approached Ares cautiously. "What do you want," she hissed as she raised her sword defensively; she stood a mere body length from her nemesis.

"Revenge," Ares replied coldly. He stood casually with his legs braced apart; his hands caressed the hilt of his ornate sword. "I promised I would repay you for your betrayal. My victory is almost at hand." Ares smiled cruelly as he let the warrior puzzle over his words.

Ice-blue eyes narrowed and Xena's grip on her sword tightened reflexively. "What do you mean by that?" she asked.

"I promised you that I would kill everything you love," he revealed as he lifted his head arrogantly. His eyes narrowed as he thought of Atrius marching on Amphipolis. "Your biggest mistake, Xena, was that you dared to love. Now, that love will get a whole lotta people killed...and there's nothing you can do about it," he purred smugly.

Xena felt her blood begin to boil; she grit her teeth in fury. "Spit it out, you bastard. What have you done?"

Ares chuckled deeply in satisfaction as he dissolved into nothing. His parting words hung heavy in the silent forest. "You'll never be able to go home, Xena. By the time you get there, you won't have one anymore...and your precious little Gabrielle will be dead."

For a moment, the world ceased to exist for the warrior. Her heated blood suddenly ran cold; she knew what Ares had planned. Amphipolis had become Ares' target. Gabrielle's life was the payment he demanded for her betrayal. Sheathing her sword, Xena ran to Argo and mounted quickly. Her desperation was released on a growl when Homer took hold of the mare's bridle.

"Who was that, and where are you going?" he asked. His eyes were wide with fear.

Xena's features hardened in the blink of an eye. "That was Ares and I'm going home," she snarled. "If you're as smart as I think you are, you'll go back to Carinoc."

Homer released the warhorse and backed away from the warrior. He paled when he realized exactly what Xena meant when she said that she always met the wrong kind of people. Not wanting to be mixed up in something that involved the God of War, no matter how good a story it might make the bard watched as the warrior rode away. After she had ridden out of sight, he turned and walked the opposite way. He silently wished the Warrior Princess speed and strength.

Xena pushed Argo to her limits. The warhorse was wheezing for breath; lathered sweat covered her flanks. Her nostrils flared with the continuing effort.

Relenting to Argo's physical limitations, Xena dismounted and unsaddled the mare. Her steps were heavy with gloom and agitation as she walked the horse in circles to cool her down. When Argo was able to drink, she led the warhorse to a nearby stream. As Argo satisfied her thirst, the warrior brushed her salt-crusted coat.

When the mare had been cared for, Xena let her free to rest. The warrior, however, paced anxiously. Her thoughts careened out of control; visions of Ares' revenge burned in her mind. Taking a calming breath, she stopped and stared at the clear blue sky. Until meeting the god in the forest, she had forgotten about his threat. She cursed her blinded hope for a better future. She had ridden with Ares long enough to know that the God of War had a long memory and a deep vein of cruelty.

All she could think of now was that innocent people were going to die because of her actions. A brief memory of Amphipolis during happier times deepened her guilt. With a growl of impotent frustration, she turned and readied Argo for the frantic journey. She knew that the attempt to save Amphipolis would be a desperate gamble. She knew the burden she was placing on herself and Argo; death was a real probability. She had to try, though. She would not lose everyone else like she had Lyceus. She vowed that she would thwart Ares' plans or die trying.

The warrior looked up violently when she felt a warm breath on her shoulder. Her face was strained when she turned to find Argo waiting impatiently. "You know, don't you, girl. You know how bad this is," she whispered painfully. She quickly checked the bindings on Argo's saddle and mounted. "I know we can do this in a few days, Argo. We can because we have to." Her eyes misted with hot tears; she blinked to clear them. "I can't let them suffer because of my mistakes."

Argo snorted in agreement. The warhorse's muscles bunched when Xena tightened her heels.

The stillness was broken as warrior and steed rode like an avenging Fury towards a destiny that was unfolding out of their control.

Gabrielle was standing in the back yard of the inn when the sound of hoof beats drew her attention. She cocked her head to listen; her eyes widened with fear when shouts of help rang out. Lifting her long skirt, she ran to the front of the building. She stopped abruptly when she saw Toris.

He sat astride a winded draft horse, cradling Eresthenes' limp form. He was shouting incoherently for someone to help his lover.

The bard gasped when she saw the merchant's fine linen shirt soaked with blood. An arrow's shaft protruded grotesquely from his chest. Calling for Cyrene, Gabrielle helped Toris dismount. They fell to their knees in an effort to keep from jarring Eresthenes' body.

Cyrene rushed to help them as they carried the injured man into the tavern. She hastily cleared a table of dirty dishes so that they could lay his body out.

"I'll go get Hippocrates," the bard said as she hurried back out the door.

Toris ran a trembling hand through his dark hair. He cast worried eyes to his mother, begging her to do something to help the merchant. Moments later, he was pushed aside when the healer arrived.

"Toris."

Casting a worried glance to Eresthenes, Toris allowed himself to be guided to another table by gentle hands.

"Toris, I need you to tell me what happened."

The young innkeeper looked up to find Autolycus waiting expectantly for answers. Accepting a mug of ale, he nodded and took a long drink. "We were on our way back from picking up a shipment," he began; his eyes were riveted on the unconscious man. "As we were coming into the valley, we saw an army camped not far off the road. A squad rode out to meet us. They asked what our business was. When we told them we were delivering wine to Amphipolis, they attacked us. We fought them off, but Ere was shot. I barely managed to unhitch the horse and get away," he finished on a ragged sob.

"An army," Auto mused. "What would an army be doing camped in the valley?"

Toris raised his head suddenly; his blue eyes were wide with dark premonition. "When they attacked us, the soldiers said that they were getting an early start...that Amphipolis would have two less men to defend her."

"Did you see their banner," Meleager asked as he stepped forward.

"It was black with a silver broadsword and red crown," he answered.

The ex-soldier tensed as he muttered, "Ares."

Gabrielle turned to Meleager. "Are you sure?" Her voice trembled; she held in her breath waiting for the answer.

"I've battled against it and under it enough times," he replied darkly.

Autolycus turned his attention to Toris once more. "Did the army seem like they were ready to ride?"

"No," the other man answered with a negative shake of his head. "They had just lit their fires and the cooks were skinning the night's meal."

Hippocrates interrupted Toris' response. "We have to move him. The arrow pierced his lung and I need room to set up some equipment."

"You can use my room," Gabrielle offered.

The healer nodded and led the way as Toris and Meleager carried Eresthenes. When the merchant was laid on the bed, Hippocrates removed the arrow and inserted a thin, hollow reed into the wound. "I need a bowl of water," he instructed.

Gabrielle moved quickly to comply.

Half an hour later, Autolycus, Meleager, Gabrielle and Cyrene were gathered in a corner of the tavern. They were discussing the army's planned attack on Amphipolis.

"We have to stay and fight," the bard urged. "This is our home and we can't just run away like frightened animals. We have a militia and several military veterans. We can fight."

Cyrene wrung her hands. "Toris said that the army is at least a hundred men. How do we defend against those kinds of numbers?"

"We could set a few traps to slow them down, maybe even take a few of them out," Meleager countered. "If we start now, we can have a few set up by nightfall."

"We need a plan," Auto mumbled as he stroked his mustache.

"I'll get my maps," the bard said as she rushed away. When she returned, she bent over to study them with the others.

Aided by the experience of an old soldier and the confidence of a determined bard, the small group began to make plans to defend their homes.

"Here," Meleager said as he pointed to a point at the northern part of town. "We can dig some boar pits. "We may be able to force some back into them." The ex-soldier's brow furrowed in thought. "We're going to need anyone who can fire a bow. We can set up archers along this line of buildings here. There should be enough cover for them to pick off the soldiers. Find Antis. He can round up the hunters and anyone else with that kind of experience."

"I'll get him," Cyrene said before she turned. The innkeeper suddenly stopped. "Gabrielle?"

"What?"

"Where's Hope?"

The bard's face went blank and then paled. "She was with the girls. They said something about gathering flowers in the woods."

"I'll go find them," Toris said as he joined the group.

Gabrielle laid a restraining hand on her brother's arm. "No, you stay here and keep an eye on Eresthenes. I'll let Carapon and Myasthenia know what's going on and I'll go find the girls. They couldn't have wandered far. They just left half an hour ago." Recovering her staff from her room, Gabrielle ran through the kitchen and out of the tavern. Her heart began to beat furiously as she thought about the army that was about to descend upon them.

Gabrielle searched the woods desperately. She visited every spot she could remember where the flowers bloomed. She found no evidence of her daughter or the triplets. In the distance, she could hear the villagers preparing to meet the army. As she was following one of the lesser-known paths, she came across a team of older boys digging a pit. "Have you seen Hope," she asked, fighting hard to control the fear in her voice. When they replied that they hadn't, the bard began to jog swiftly deeper into the forest. She was brought up short by a firm arm.

"Haven't you found them?" Meleager asked.

"No, nothing."

"It's getting dark," the ex-soldier said as he bowed his head. "It's not safe out here for you to be alone."

"Then I'll go back to the village and get some help."

"I'm sorry, Gabrielle. Everyone is readying for the attack."

"But she's my daughter," the bard cried as she began to struggle against Meleager's grip. "I have to find her."

"Gabrielle!" he shouted. When the young woman stilled, he softened his voice. "I've sent scouts out to watch for the army. If they come across the girls, they'll bring them back."

"But...."

"Please, let's go back to the village. There's a lot of work that needs to be done before tomorrow."

The bard planted her feet stubbornly; her eyes scanned the surrounding woods desperately for any sign of Hope. When Meleager tugged on her arm, she spun away from him. Her eyes blazed with a maternal instinct to protect; she frantically searched the growing shadows. Her heart raced wildly as she realized that her daughter was out there without anyone to protect her. "No!" she shouted as she backed away from Meleager. "I'm not leaving her. I won't abandon my daughter." The bard turned and ran deeper into the forest.

As a child, she had played in these woods; she had relived fantasies and had shared her dreams with her best friend. Now, though, the deepening shadows mocked her desperation.

Gabrielle stopped and fell to her knees. She raised her eyes as hot tears began to fall across her cheeks. "Please," she whispered raggedly, "please help me." In an effort to dig deep inside for reserve energy, the bard focused her mind. She went over a mental list of places the girls might have gone.

With a gasp, she stood and glanced around to find her bearings. Her heart swelled with hope. Once sure of where she was, the bard made her way swiftly to the cave she and Xena had discovered long ago.

She had shared its secret with her adventurous daughter less than a week before.

"It's just as I remember," Gabrielle said with awe as she lifted her torch high to illuminate the small cave. Her eyes misted with fond memories as they found the cot that rested against the far wall and the stone-lined pit that was charred from countless fires.

"You and Xena really played here, Mama?"

The bard watched as her daughter's eyes lit with childish reverence. "Yes. We had some fun here. I would practice telling stories as Xena sharpened her sword. We would come up here a lot in the summer when it was too hot to sleep in our rooms." The bard chuckled when she recalled one summer that she had barely seen her own bedroom. The coolness of the cave had been a welcomed relief from the heat that plagued the region. "I haven't been up here since Xena left," she whispered as a lump formed in her throat.

"Can we play here, now, Mama?" Hope asked as she took her mother's hand. "You can still tell stories and I'll draw my pictures. And if it's all right, I'll bring my other best friends."

The bard smiled warmly down at her daughter and nodded her head. "That sounds like a lot of fun, sweetheart."

Gabrielle prayed that she was right. When she stumbled into the clearing near the hidden cave, she bent over, gripped her knees, and breathed deeply in an effort to still her racing heart. "Hope?" she called desperately. Her legs collapsed when she heard a rustle in the foliage.

"Mama?" Hope stepped through the vines that concealed the cave from casual eyes. She sobbed as she ran towards her mother.

Gabrielle opened her arms wide to accept her daughter's embrace; the bard buried her face in Hope's hair. "What are you doing out here?"

"I wanted to show Meg, Diana, and Leah our secret. We were playing and we got scared when we saw how dark it got. I'm sorry, Mama."

Gabrielle nodded as she tucked Hope's face against her chest. "It's all right, sweetheart. We have to go home now. You have to go with the other children to the temple."

"Why, Mama?"

The bard glanced up to see that the triplets had come out of the cave. Their bright blue eyes barely reflected the weak light of the moon. "There are some bad men coming to the village," she answered truthfully. "I want to know that you are all safe when they arrive." Gabrielle studied the girls momentarily before she stood and grasped her daughter's hand. She was about to begin leading them home when a faint sound carried to her ears. "Shhh," she ordered with a raised hand.

Squinting into the darkness, Gabrielle cocked her head and listened. She paled when she heard the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps breaking twigs; a large group was coming up the path from the valley. "Everyone, go back into the cave," she hissed as she pushed the girls ahead of her. When they were hidden from the clearing, the bard peered through the vines and held her breath. "Hades," she swore softly when two dozen soldiers entered the clearing. She closed her eyes in dread as the armed men began to set up camp.

She spun and led the girls deeper into the cave. "We have to all be really quiet," she whispered calmly as she searched blindly for the children's faces. "I want everyone to find a seat. We're going to be here a while." The bard found the cot that had been crafted by young hands long ago. She sat gingerly on the edge. Testing the integrity of the pallet, she sighed and rested her weight fully when it held. Burying her head in her hands, she wondered how she was going to get the girls home safely.

Xena crept slowly through the woods north of the village. She could hear laughter in front of her. She peered through the foliage and saw that there were two dozen soldiers in the clearing by the small cave. With a derisive curl of her lips, she adjusted her weapons and stepped from her cover. When one of the men joked about how easy it was going to be to kill all the villagers, she saw red. With a blood-curdling warcry, she descended upon them.

Gabrielle startled when she heard the warrior's battlecry. She jumped to her feet when she realized that she and the girls had fallen asleep while waiting for the soldiers to leave. Grabbing her staff from the floor of the cave, she made her way to the entrance. When she parted the vines that covered the mouth, her eyes widened; she gasped in recognition. Her breath stilled as she watched the ensuing battle that was like a scene from her stories.

The woman warrior looked older than the bard had pictured, but it was still Xena. Her best friend's eyes were colder than she remembered; the warrior's grim visage held no humor.

Remembering to breathe, the bard inhaled deeply. She jumped when a small hand touched her back.

"Mama, what is it?"

The bard pushed her daughter back into the cave and sat her upon the cot. "Stay right here and don't move...no matter what. Do you understand?" she asked, looking at her four charges. When the little girls nodded, Gabrielle smiled briefly and returned to the mouth of the cave.

Gabrielle watched as Xena fought the soldiers that had camped outside of the cave. Her eyes narrowed in appreciation as she studied the warrior's statuesque beauty and lethal grace.

Catching a movement out of the corner of her eye, Gabrielle turned her reluctant eyes away from the battle. A scream rose in her throat as she watched a lone soldier raise a crossbow. The high-pitched wail exploded out of her lungs as she ran out of the cave.

Xena looked up from her battle to see a small blonde woman appear as if out of nowhere. She saw her knock the crossbow out of a soldier's hands with a staff. She doubled her efforts when she realized the danger in which the other woman had placed herself.

Gabrielle reacted instinctively as she attacked the soldier. With all the power she could muster, she grunted as she swung at his knees.

The man howled in pain at the unexpected attack; he collapsed to the ground as his knees buckled under the onslaught. When the staff came at his face, he raised an armored arm to stop it.

Gasping at the pain that reverberated up to her shoulders, Gabrielle cried out in dismay. She struggled to pull her staff free from the soldier's grip. Her eyes widened in fear when she saw the glinting flash of a blade descend.

With a final yank, she pulled her staff free; her momentum took her away from the killing blow. She winced when a burst of fire raced along her thigh. The bard stared at the blood that quickly soaked through her skirt as it ran down into her boot. A growl shook her from her daze and she raised her staff defensively. When the soldier charged with his dagger once more, she ducked and spun her staff to connect with his injured knees. When the man fell face-first to the dirt, she brought her weapon overhead and struck him unconscious with a blow to the back of his head.

Seeing that the soldier was no longer a threat, the bard turned and raced to join the warrior. She attacked the man furthest from Xena. By the time that all of the soldiers had finally been defeated, she was breathing heavily and her heart was pounding thunderously.

Her arms ached and her leg throbbed. She winced as she shifted the foot in her blood-filled boot. She ducked her head and closed her eyes tight when the world began to spin.

Xena was barely panting with effort when she realized that there were no more soldiers to battle. Lowering her sword, she glanced at the blonde woman that had helped her. She moved quickly when the other woman fell to one knee. "Hey," she called as she kneeled next to the small blonde, "are you all right?" When the woman raised eyes glazed with pain, the warrior gasped.

Flashes of memories played in her mind. She remembered a tag-along that became her best friend. She recalled a small bundle of energy with sunburst hair and emerald eyes that shone with laughter and love. Her heart reacted painfully. "Gabrielle?"

"Xena," the bard rasped as she fell unconscious to the dirt.

"Mama!"

The warrior turned to see four girls standing outside of the cave. Xena was taken aback for a moment by their appearances. Their hair was mussed and their clothes were rumpled. Their eyes were fixed on the bard she had gathered and cradled in her arms. Shaking off the oddness of the sight, she returned her attention to her best friend.

With frantic hands, the warrior searched until she found the dagger wound on Gabrielle's thigh. She scowled when she realized that the bard had fought when she was already injured. She had no time to be relieved that Gabrielle was still alive. All she could think about was the fact that the bard was in the clearing in the first place. Fear clenched her heart painfully when she realized the risk the younger woman had taken.

"Is she all right?" Hope asked as she stepped closer.

Xena cleared her throat as she searched for something to bind Gabrielle's wound. "She just passed out," she replied hoarsely. With a frustrated growl, the warrior tore a strip from the bard's long skirt.

"Is she gonna wake up?" the blonde child asked as she stepped closer to the warrior.

"Yeah," Xena answered softly, "she just lost some blood." The warrior cast her eyes around the clearing; they narrowed when she realized that the soldiers had been there to keep any villagers from escaping Amphipolis.

"Come on," she ordered curtly. "Gabrielle needs to see a healer," she said. "I know a place closer to the village that will be safer for all of you. You can hide there."

"Are you Xena," Hope asked with timid curiosity.

"Yes."

"Mama always talks about you," the child said simply as she bowed her head shyly. "She thinks you're the best hero."

Xena looked over her shoulder; the three sisters were holding hands and shedding silent tears. Setting her jaw, the warrior stood; she cradled the bard carefully in her arms. "Follow me and don't fall behind."

At first light, Atrius led Ares' army into Amphipolis. His pale blue eyes scanned the village and found it to be quiet. As his men formed rank in the town's square, his eyes darted from building to building. The silence became ominous; the only noise heard was the shuffling of his soldiers' feet. The sound of an arrow whistling through the air broke the calm.

Atrius turned in his saddle to find one of his men clutching an arrow that had sunk into his throat. The commander growled low in his throat. "If you know what's good for you, you'll surrender now!" he shouted. "I promise that your deaths will be less painful than if I have to fight you!" He ducked as another arrow answered his threat. Another of his soldiers fell. "Have it your way," he muttered. "Take the village! I want every breathing thing killed."

The cries of marauding soldiers and those of defending villagers mixed into a furious chaos.

Ordering his best fighters to engage the armed militia, Atrius shifted his attention towards the inn. Nudging his horse through the battles that raged around him, he came to a halt when he found what he was looking for.

"You," Cyrene spat as she raised two frying pans in a defensive gesture. "I should have known. You always were a good-for-nothing."

"Now, is that any way to greet your husband," the warlord asked menacingly.

"Father?"

Atrius shifted his gaze to find his oldest son. The younger man held a long sword loosely; his eyes were filled with pain and confusion.

"Why, Father? Why are you doing this?"

"Because it is my destiny," the warlord answered. He snarled as he unsheathed his sword. "It's time to find my glory."

Toris stepped forward to protect Cyrene as Atrius dismounted. He watched the older man with cautious eyes.

"Are you ready to meet Hades," the warlord asked acidly. "It would make my day to spill your blood. My god Ares has commanded your death," he stated as he raised his sword.

Toris shifted his legs and brought his sword up to block the blow aimed for his head. Ducking and spinning, he managed to avoid his father's blade.

Atrius laughed brashly as he stepped back. "So, my worthless little boy learned how to fight," he taunted. "This is going to be more fun than I thought."

Although tired from a sleepless vigil at Eresthenes' bedside, Toris defended himself well. His sword moved in blurring patterns as he deflected Atrius' sword. The other fights throughout the village faded as he concentrated on the man in front of him. His arms began to tremble with exertion; sweat burned his eyes as it trickled off his forehead. He cried out when he was forced to his knees. Closing his eyes, he waited for the killing blow. Toris' world was reduced to his own harsh breathing and a dull thud. When the blade did not descend, he opened his eyes to find his mother standing over an unconscious Atrius.

"I should have killed the bastard when I had the chance," she snarled.

"Well, we don't have time for that now," Toris panted as he rose to his feet. Glancing around, he saw Meleager fighting against two soldiers. "Come on," he urged, rushing to the old man's side.

The battle for Amphipolis raged as villagers fought to protect their families and lives. The militia that had been trained diligently since the last attack thirty years ago fought well under the leadership of its teacher. Meleager and Toris defended the archers that continued to eliminate the marauding soldiers one at a time. Cyrene went to the temple to help the other women protect and calm the children and the elderly that huddled under the altar in fear.

"This is impossible," Toris grunted as he fought off another soldier. He ground his teeth in agony as his muscles protested the exertion.

"Keep saying that and we've already lost the battle," Meleager countered as he pushed a dead attacker off his blade. The ex-soldier braced himself as another took the fallen man's place.

"We can't do this alone!" Toris ducked and kicked his opponent between the legs. When the other man fell to his knees, the young innkeeper made his pain irrelevant. Wiping his hands free of blood, Toris grasped the hilt of his sword. "We can't do this!"

When Meleager finished off another opponent, he turned to the younger man and jerked him close by the tunic. "Now, you listen to me," he growled. "These soldiers are determined to kill everything you hold dear. Are you just going to cry like a baby, or are you going to fight like a man?"

Toris gulped as he looked at the face of the man he considered family. He shook his head mutely; his featured hardened as he pictured his lover's wounded body. "I am a man!" The young innkeeper stumbled back when Meleager released him. Straightening his shoulders, he steeled himself to meet another foe.

Grunting in satisfaction, Meleager turned his attention to two soldiers who were approaching fast. Sparing a glance across the village, his brows furrowed in anger; he met them with a primal roar.

The square was a pandemonium of desperation. The soldiers that attacked were fighting for the glory of Ares; the villagers were defending all that they had ever known. The untrained shepherds and farmers doubled their efforts; they were determined to save their homes.

The cacophonous din of swords clashing drowned out the sounds of other weapons that were wielded with as much efficiency. Staffs, pitchforks, and hoes served their masters well. Although not as glorious or flashy, they were effective tools of defense.

Amphipolis, however, was beginning to fall under the weight of greater numbers. The archers ran out of arrows and joined the battle to defend with their bare hands. The overwhelming waves of marauders shifted the balance against the villagers that were tiring fast.

Meleager frowned as he joined his neighbors in the square. With a nod to Toris who remained at his side, the ex-soldier decided to even out a smaller fight.

The soldiers who were beating a fallen man looked up when they heard Meleager's battlecry. Their vicious grins widened until the old soldier gutted one and sliced the throat of the other.

Carapon's relief was evident on his bloody face as he looked up to find Meleager pulling him to his feet.

"You're hurt," the ex-soldier said as he studied Carapon's face. "Go to the temple and see Hippocrates."

The younger man shook his head. "No, I'm fine," he argued. "They just got the drop on me."

Meleager snorted and wiped his brow. "Go help Toris," he ordered. When Carapon complied, the ex-soldier turned to join the battle once more. The lines on his face became more pronounced as pain caught up to him. He winced when his shoulder cramped but he continued to defend his village. Successfully dispatching another soldier, he stopped to take a deep breath. He gasped when a searing pain seized him; he fell to his knees. Dropping his sword to clutch at his chest, he moaned when the world grew dark. The last thing he remembered was a new battlecry ringing out over the noise.

As Xena led the children closer to the village, the sounds of battle grew louder. In fear of what she would find, the warrior hastened her steps. Her heart began to beat furiously; the slender burden in her arms was forgotten for the moment.

She escorted the girls to the temple on the outskirts of the village; she was shocked momentarily as she met familiar blue eyes. "Mother," she whispered.

Cyrene lowered her frying pans and stood mutely. She struggled to still the trembling of her body.

"Mother," Xena said as she stepped forward, "Gabrielle is hurt. She needs to see a healer and I need to help out there," she continued as she nodded towards the village. "I found the little ones in the forest," she finished as she handed the wounded bard to a tall, thin man.

The innkeeper tore her eyes from her daughter to find Hope and her three friends standing quietly at Xena's side. Her grip on the pans slackened and she returned her gaze to the warrior. She opened her mouth to speak, but Xena stepped back and unsheathed her sword.

"I'll be back," the warrior said quietly as she turned to run towards the village square. When she saw that Ares' army was beginning to overwhelm the villagers, Xena cried out and joined the fray.

The warrior fought purely on primal instinct. She should have collapsed after the desperate ride to reach Amphipolis in time. She should have been exhausted after the battle with Ares' forces in the forest. A drive to protect her birthplace from being savaged by a petty god's revenge, however, gave her energy and strength.

She cut through the invading soldiers like a burst of fire. Her sword and chakram reduced Ares' men to crumbled corpses. When the invaders formed a wall around her, she chuckled darkly. She impaled each one with her ice-blue eyes; she smirked when every man shuddered under her regard. With a piercing battlecry, she released her chakram. As the round weapon cut down those on her left, she attacked those on the right. Instinctively, she reached up while in mid-strike and caught the weapon as it returned to her.

Atrius groaned as he struggled to his knees. He raised a hand to probe the bleeding lump that throbbed on the back of his head. He raised groggy eyes to find that the villagers of Amphipolis were holding their own against his men; his vision cleared instantly when he saw the warrior defending against a growing swarm of soldiers. Realizing whom the woman warrior was, he recovered his sword and stood.

He growled at his men as he stumbled towards his daughter. The taste of her blood beckoned him closer with each step. With a fierce shout, he ordered all of his men to cease their attack.

The soldiers that had been fighting the woman warrior parted at their commander's order. They watched with curious eyes as Atrius and Xena faced each other.

Xena looked down the corridor of soldiers; her features froze when she recognized a face she had once gazed upon reverently. When she saw the crest on her father's armor, her world was thrown into a whirling chaos of shattered dreams. She backed away slowly as her father approached menacingly through the mute soldiers.

Atrius' bared his teeth in the semblance of a smile for his daughter. "Well, I guess this victory is going to be sweeter than I thought," he drawled as he swung his sword loosely at his side. "Finally, I'll get to finish what I started."

Confusion lined Xena's face as she glanced quickly around the square. She stopped suddenly when she found Toris grasping a wooden support. Her brother's eyes were expectant; they burned with a fire that she once harbored.

"Do it, Xena!" the young innkeeper cried. "Kill him!"

Xena's head turned to find her opponent once more. In a strained voice, she whispered, "I can't." All of her life as a warrior became a mocking falsehood as her father took another step. She had wanted to be like him; she had picked up her first wooden sword because she wanted to practice drills with her father. The child inside her soul screamed in anguish at the loss and betrayal. "Why?" she asked as tears formed in her eyes.

Atrius smirked and tightened his grip on his sword. "Because Ares commands me...and I've been wanting to do this for so many years."

Shaking her head, Xena took another step back. "You don't have to listen to him," she replied. "You can turn away."

Laughing cruelly, Atrius swung is sword in a display of malevolent intent. "And become like you...helping people who spit at your retreating back? You are a false hero, Xena. I'm here to remind you that you belong to Ares."

"No!"

Xena spun to see Gabrielle limping through the circle of villagers that had gathered to watch the confrontation; Cyrene supported the bard with a firm arm. "Gabrielle, go back to the temple," the warrior ordered curtly.

"No. I've got something to say to you...and to everyone else." The bard shook her head as she entered the clearing with the combatants. "Don't listen to him, Xena. I've heard the stories about you. We all have," the bard shouted so that her voice carried across the silent square. "The people you have helped celebrate you as the Warrior Princess. They sing songs of being freed from warlords and tyrants. The bards spread tales of your quest for atonement."

Gabrielle turned to her friend's father and narrowed her eyes. "I believe in you, Xena. Don't let anyone ever tell you who you are." The bard returned her focus to the warrior; her gentle smile offered support. "You are who you want to be...and you will always be a hero to me," she added softly for the warrior's ears.

Xena swallowed against the lump in her throat. Her intense gaze saw the truth in Gabrielle's impassioned words.

"I believe in you," Gabrielle repeated quietly as she stepped closer to the warrior. She laid a firm hand on her friend's arm.

Resisting an urge to fold the smaller woman into a gentle embrace, Xena cleared her throat. She raised her eyes to her father. Her face hardened when she recognized the mocking look on his face. The warm hand on her arm gave her strength; she straightened her shoulders and faced her father, her past, and the nightmares that echoed in her sleep. "You want me?"

Atrius raised his weapon and snarled. "I want you and your blood." His eyes shifted imperceptibly as he balanced over the balls of his feet.

"I'll make a deal then," Xena said as she led the bard to Cyrene. "If I defeat you, you have to take your men and never come back to this valley."

"And if I defeat you?" the warlord asked.

"You get your revenge."

Atrius nodded curtly; his eyes darkened in anticipation. The throbbing in his head was forgotten as bloodlust surged through his body.

"I have your word?" When her father nodded curtly, Xena's lips thinned in determination. "Swear it on the head of Zeus."

"I swear by Zeus, I will pull my men out of the valley and never return," Atrius snarled through clenched teeth.

"Well, then, I suppose we should get this over with." The warrior spared a brief glance to the bard; Gabrielle smiled gently with confidence. Xena responded with a slight curl of her lips.

The two opponents circled each other; they were oblivious to the spectators that gathered on opposite sides. Their weapons moved tentatively as they tested each other's skill. The spectators jumped in unison when the two blades finally met unexpectedly.

As soon as the clash began, voices rose above the din. Villagers cheered for Xena; the soldiers cheered their commander.

Sparks flew as metal met metal. Grunts accentuated every parry and lunge. The hot sun glinted off the warriors' armor; sweat began to bead on their faces. It seemed as if both parties were equally matched in skill and strength.

Xena's blood raced hot like liquid fire through her veins. She felt the beast rise within. Desperate to see the battle to its end and to see Amphipolis safe, she relented and released the stranglehold on her bloodlust.

Atrius grinned evilly when he saw the feral light in his daughter's eyes. His laughter only served to heighten Xena's fury.

The woman warrior fought for the lives of her kinsman; she fought for forgiveness. She refused to let her exhaustion dampen the power of her blows. She ignored the painful sting in her eyes as sweat pored down her face. With a burst of energy, she somersaulted over her father's back and landed a jarring blow.

Inhaling deeply to catch his breath, Atrius spun on his knees and glared at his daughter. He growled when she mocked him with an arrogant flip of her head. With a scream of rage, he charged her intent on ending her life.

Xena spun away from the oncoming sword and landed another hit to her opponent's back with the hilt of her sword. She laughed maniacally; her eyes flared her contempt. When the older warrior reacted and charged again, she waited patiently.

Atrius' renewed attack was rewarded with a stiff front kick to the groin. He gasped as he fell to his knees. His face reddened with the effort not to cry out. His eyes narrowed as he stood; his legs trembled with the effort. Raising his sword, he shouted and made a desperate lunge for Xena.

Ducking, Xena avoided his sword. She spun and caught her father by the hair, stopping his momentum.

When he felt the sharp edge of a sword blade against his throat, the warlord struggled.

"Yield, damn you!" Xena hissed into his ear.

"Kill him!"

Xena raised her eyes to see the savage looks on her kinsmen's faces. She shuddered when realized that their looks mirrored her own. Taking a deep breath, she forced her heart and breathing to slow. Her grip on Atrius' hair never slackened. "Yield," she repeated softly.

Atrius continued to struggle against the unresisting force that held him immobile. He swung blindly, hoping to catch his daughter unaware.

Grunting with the force of the blow to her midsection, Xena brought a knee up to land in her opponent's stomach. "If you know what's smart, you will yield," she warned. "I won this battle a long time ago," she whispered with conviction; her eyes strayed to the bard that was watching expectantly. Her words were met with stiffening of the body she held.

"I yield to my opponent," Atrius mumbled. "You win."

Xena released her father from her grasp and pushed him away forcefully.

He fell to his knees; his eyes rolled in their sockets. With a groan, he collapsed to the ground unconscious. A gasp rose from the crowd when a god materialized in its place.

Xena smirked in satisfaction when Ares stepped away from the prone warlord's body; he kicked it with disappointment. She raised her sword cautiously as the God of War approached her.

"You knew...how did you know?" Ares asked as he folded his arms petulantly.

Xena cocked her head arrogantly and lowered her weapon to wipe it on her boot. "As intimate as we were, Ares, how could I not recognize that look in your eyes."

The war god sniffed and rolled his neck. "I suppose you are going to hold me to my promise?"

"Don't even think of breaking it," Xena warned as she sheathed her sword. "I'll make sure you regret it."

Ares sighed and bowed mockingly to the warrior's victory. "It will be as the Warrior Princess wishes," he replied with sneering contempt. "Don't think you've heard the last of me though, Xena. I know how restless you get. You won't be able to hide in this valley forever." He smiled malevolently as he shook his hair out of his eyes. "I'll even the score some day."

Xena returned the god's insincere smile as he disappeared. She turned slowly when she felt a warm hand close over her shoulder. Her jaw became taut; her shoulders ached as she stood stiffly. She fought against the tears that wanted to fall. She clenched her fists as her eyes began to burn. She mentally cursed her wretched heart for caring what one person thought of her. That one person, though, had been at her side all through childhood. That one person had always believed that she was capable of doing good. Gabrielle was the one person who showed her what it meant to fear something and then to conquer that fear. The golden bard gave her a reason to continue.

Xena's vision blurred as the tears refused to obey her will. They welled and rolled onto her lashes. She blinked at the heavy burden. After the first one had cleared the path over her stoic features, the rest followed. The whole time, her eyes never strayed from the bard.

There was a silent gulf between them. It was a wide expanse of time and experience. While they were both seeing the people they had become, they were remembering the years spent in each other's company. They remembered games of Warlords and Heroes. They remembered sharing dreams during lazy days of fishing. They remembered a bond that had been strong enough to survive their different paths and time apart.

Xena's rigid posture softened the moment that Gabrielle took the final step towards her. When the bard wrapped her arms tight around her taller friend, the warrior was prepared. The bard trembled in her arms; the fight had been both mentally and physically exhausting for them both.

She gazed down into the bard's eyes; green pools of unshed tears reflected Gabrielle's pride and love. When Hope joined the two women, Xena offered the little girl a lop-sided grin.

"Why don't you come back to the tavern, Xena?" Gabrielle asked. "We need to catch up. It's been...forever."

The warrior shook her head as she stepped out of the embrace. "I don't know, Gabrielle." The warrior raised her head to find her mother and brother watching her; their wary welcome was plain in their sad eyes. She glanced around the village and nodded slightly as the invading army pulled out. Only the villagers were left. Many were injured; those still on their feet regarded her with a mixture of relief and fear. "Let me help clean up around here and then I'll stop by, all right?"

The bard squeezed her friend's shoulder and then released it. "Take your time, Xena," she whispered. "Take all the time you need."

Xena cleared her throat and took another step back from the two blondes. Ducking her head, she tried to wipe the tears from her face inconspicuously. When she looked down, she saw Hope and shook her head in amusement.

The little girl was so much like her mother. She even had the same light of hero-worship in her eyes. As if to compare the two, Xena raised her study to the bard. The look in the other woman's eyes, however, spoke of something more than childish worship; there was an unknown glimmer that caused Xena's heart to beat erratically.

Closing her eyes against the thrill that burst in her chest, Xena gathered her wits. "You shouldn't be on your feet," she said gruffly as she wrapped an arm around the bard's waist. "You've lost too much blood. I'm surprised you're still standing," she chastised as she led Gabrielle to the tavern.

Gabrielle shrugged as she laid her arm across the warrior's wide shoulders. "I might have lost a little blood," she replied so softly that only her friend could hear, "but I found something much more important."

Tightening her grip around the smaller woman's waist, the warrior agreed without words. She led Gabrielle to a seat and turned to leave. Her mother brought her up short.

"Xena," the innkeeper began hesitantly, "when you are finished out there...." The older woman sighed as she shook her head. She stepped towards her daughter and hugged her cautiously. "We'll have something to eat here when you're finished. I'll wager that you haven't had a good home-cooked meal in a long time," she joked weakly as she poked her daughter in the ribs.

Xena blinked back the fresh tears that welled up in her eyes. She nodded mutely against her mother's shoulder. Clearing her throat, she stepped out of the embrace and left the tavern.

Xena stepped out into the sun and breathed deeply. Her body protested against the rigors she had completed in the last few days; she wanted nothing more than to curl up somewhere quiet and fall asleep. Looking over the square, however, she realized that battles did not end when one side was declared the victor.

With a sigh, she committed herself to help reclaim the scattered pieces of Amphipolis.

"Hey, wait for me!"

The warrior turned to find Toris limping down the front steps of the tavern. "You're hurt," she admonished as her eyes scanned his legs for an injury.

"Nah," he replied with a dismissive shrug, "just some cramping. I'm used to standing behind a bar, not fighting." Toris tilted his head as he studied his sister. "You were incredible out there," he finally said with a blush. "I really thought that we were going to lose everything...until I heard that battlecry of yours. You've been working on it, haven't you," he asked with a quirky smile; he nudged his little sister with a shoulder.

Xena snorted and shook her head. "Too much, if you ask me," she said quietly.

"What are we going to do about him," Toris asked as they came upon their father still unconscious in the middle of the square.

"Where's your magistrate?" Xena asked as she checked her father's pulse.

Toris scanned the crowd milling about and shouted, "Auto, over here!"

Xena looked up sharply and stood when Autolycus jogged over to them. She frowned when she saw the blood that was still oozing from a wound on the magistrate's chin.

Auto chuckled as he raised a cloth to wipe the wound. "Weaved when I should have ducked," he mumbled. "I'll end up with a scar, I suppose." The magistrate's eyes twinkled with mirth as he considered a thought. "Do you think it'll make me look more like a roguish king?"

The warrior's brows furrowed in confusion; her forehead ached even more when Toris laughed aloud. "How can you laugh?" she asked sternly. "You were just invaded...people are hurt."

Lowering the cloth from his chin, Autolycus smiled and bowed. "I am profoundly pleased to meet the Warrior Princess." He winced when Xena smacked him smartly on the head. "Relax, Xena. If we don't laugh, we'll all just fall to pieces here."

"What are you going to do with...my father?" Xena asked between clenched teeth.

The magistrate looked over the warrior's shoulder. "For now, I suppose we should escort him to the jail. After that, if we go by the books, there will be a trial to determine his punishment."

Xena nodded and then looked up in alarm when a young man rushed over to them.

"Toris, it's Meleager...he's over by the barn," the young man gasped. "He doesn't look good."

"Dammit!" Toris spied a small crowd gathering around the ex-soldier; he ran as fast as he could on cramped legs. "Watch out," he called as he pushed his way towards the fallen man. He fell to one knee and grasped the ex-soldier's arm. "Meleager?"

"I've seen this before," Xena said as she crouched opposite of her brother.

"What happened?"

The warrior's troubled eyes locked onto her brother's. "The guy died," she whispered. She reached to find a weak pulse; she lowered her head to hear the faint beating of Meleager's heart. "The other guy, though, died right away. Meleager's heart is still beating. His pulse is weak and his breathing is shallow." Xena ended her examination by squeezing her distraught brother's hand. "He might make it."

"What should we do?"

Xena looked up to find a small crowd of people watching her expectantly. She shrugged off their regard and turned to her brother. We need to get him some place quiet and cool...out of the sun," she answered. After that, she was not sure what to do. She was not a healer and did not know much about the field besides how to treat minor battle wounds. "He'll need to be seen by your healer," she added. "I'm not sure how to treat this," she admitted quietly.

Toris nodded his understanding. He looked up to find Carapon watching Xena with curious eyes. "Carapon, go tell Hippocrates that he will need to see Meleager. We're going to take him to the inn."

Cyrene gasped when Xena and Toris carried Meleager's limp form into the tavern. She followed them, wringing her hands, as they carried the unconscious man to the private quarters.

"Which room," Xena asked as she shifted the ex-soldier's weight.

"You can have mine," Gabrielle answered as she leaned against the supporting wall.

The warrior's eyes were blank with confusion until Toris kicked open the second door. When they entered the bedroom, Xena was surprised by the conversion of her old room. After depositing Meleager on a soft pallet, the warrior gazed around the room. The furniture had been moved and there were now two beds instead of one. The room had been redecorated with warm tapestries and parchment drawings done by a child. It was a private expression of a warm and caring person. She immediately felt uncomfortable.

Realizing that she had no time to wonder why the bard was living at the tavern, the warrior backed out of the room, nearly stumbling over the young woman in question. "There's still a lot to do out there," she said hastily. "The healer has already been told of the situation," she explained over her shoulder as she left the tavern.

Xena threw herself into helping the village recover from the battle. She carried the wounded to the temporary hospital that was set up in the temple. She helped to bury the dead. When she realized that not much structural damage had been done, she stood awkwardly in the middle of the square. With nothing left to do, she was expected back at the tavern.

Bowing her head, she closed her eyes to find the courage that would take her home. She barely heard the whispers that were dancing on the breeze. She heard a bard by the name of Aracan mentioned several times, as well as the title Homer had bestowed upon her.

"Hey, there. You gonna stand there all day, or what?"

The warrior opened her eyes to find Gabrielle grinning up at her. Her brow furrowed when she saw the small staff the bard was using as a crutch. "What are you doing out here?"

The smaller woman shrugged and mumbled, "Everyone else was coming in. I figured that you were finished out here, so I came looking for you." Gabrielle studied her friend and reached up a hand to smooth the lines on the warrior's face. "Are you all right? You look exhausted."

Xena sighed and straightened her stance. "I'm fine," she answered, "unlike some people who don't know how to listen to orders." With a growl, she bent low and gathered the bard in her arms.

"Xena! I hate heights...put me down!" Gabrielle struggled vainly to escape the warrior's hold.

"Settle down, Gabrielle. Just close your eyes and relax. We'll be at the tavern before you know it."

The bard did as she was told; her body came alive as she went limp in her friend's strong arms. She raised her arms to encircle the warrior's neck. "I can walk, you know," she sighed.

"Well, that doesn't mean that you should," Xena retorted gently.

Gabrielle suddenly chuckled. "So, Xena, it's been a while. What's been going on?"

The warrior growled at the smaller woman's playful banter. "I could ask the same of you."

"Maybe we should sit and talk, then," the bard offered.

Xena's reply was cut short when Cyrene opened the door for them. She entered the crowded room and deposited Gabrielle at the family table. "Don't move, do you hear me?" When the bard nodded her understanding, Xena glanced around the table from one person to another. When she met one cold stare, she stepped away quickly. Her flight, however, was cut short when the bard reached out and grabbed her hand.

"Just ignore 'Stepi for now," Gabrielle advised softly. "I haven't had a chance to talk to her yet."

The warrior kept her features stoically calm as she assimilated the hostile woman's name. Her brows furrowed in confusion when she remembered that Estepani was the weaver's daughter. She could not remember ever doing anything to hurt the other woman when they were younger. In fact, she had liked the girl because Lyceus had pledged his heart to her.

Suddenly, the warrior paled; she turned to see the naked pain behind the other woman's hard gaze. She recognized the one person who had the most reason to hate her. Her heart palpitated painfully and a lump rose in her throat when she saw the infant that Estepani was cradling. Bowing her head in shame, she turned away. Her discomfort was eased slightly by the warm pressure of Gabrielle's hand on her own. Despite the bard's efforts, an image of Lyceus' death replayed in the warrior's mind. Xena shuddered when she remembered the sight of her brother's blood on her hands.

When Autolycus ascended the stage to address the crowd, Xena vaguely heard his words. A sudden explosion of applause startled her and she looked up to find the cause. She glanced sharply to Gabrielle who was nudging her in the ribs. "What?"

"He wants you to say a few words," the bard explained. "Go on," she said with an encouraging push, "they want to hear their hero speak."

Xena stood to reluctant feet. The crowd parted amiably; she had no other recourse but to accept the invitation. Mentally, she struggled to find the words to greet the kinsmen that were welcoming her home as a hero. As much as she had envisioned it, the scenario had always seemed like a wishful fantasy. She trudged up the steps to the stage, and gazed into the crowd of expectant faces. Behind the jubilant people, she noticed Estepani rushing across the tavern to the private rooms. She frowned when Gabrielle disregarded her advice to stay put; the stubborn bard followed at a much slower pace. Promising herself to have a long talk with Gabrielle later, she cleared her throat and smiled uncomfortably.

The crowd broke into a cheer again and she squirmed under the adulation that left her blushing awkwardly. She grinned lopsided when Autolycus stepped close and patted her on the back.

"Coming home should always feel so good, don't you think?" he asked with an understanding smile.

Gabrielle followed the fleeing widow as quickly as she could. She winced when her wound throbbed in protest. "'Stepi, wait!"

The young widow continued to Cyrene's room; it was the only one unoccupied since Meleager and Eresthenes were recuperating in the one she shared with Gabrielle and Hope.

The bard barely managed to stop the door with her crutch when Estepani slammed it. With a heavy sigh, Gabrielle entered the room. "Look," she said as she leaned against the doorframe, "I understand that you're upset, but don't ruin this for her, please?"

Estepani laid Lyceus carefully on the bed before she turned savagely to the bard. "Don't you tell me what to do!"

Gabrielle straightened in surprise; her stubborn nature kept her from fleeing.

"Do you see that innocent boy there?" the widow asked as she pointed to her son. "Because of that bitch, he'll never know his father. What am I supposed to tell him when he grows up? 'Sorry, but your aunt got a bug up her ass and your father died trying to save her?'" Estepani advanced towards the smaller bard. "I have reconciled the fact that you love her so much that you can overlook her past, but I'm not you. I can't just turn a blind eye to what she has done."

"She didn't kill him," Gabrielle said quietly. The bard lowered her head in thought. "How do you think she feels, 'Stepi? She held him as he died. His blood was on her hands. She loved him, too, you know. Do you think that his death doesn't weigh on her heart? Do you think that she doesn't feel pain?"

Estepani snorted in derision. "Does she? All I saw today was an arrogant warrior helping us poor, defenseless villagers protect our homes."

"She could have died fighting Ares," Gabrielle stated sharply.

"I wish she would have!"

Gabrielle limped into the room. Her anger was clearly evident in the hard set of her face. "How dare you say that to me! You know how much I love her. I'm not going to let anyone hurt her now that she's back and that includes you!"

The widow watched as the bard stormed out of the room. Gabrielle's limp was barely noticeable as she held her body stiffly. Estepani slammed the bedroom door and leaned against it; hot tears scalded tracks down to her chin. She watched them fall to the floor until Lyceus' wailing reached through to soften her heart. Wiping her eyes, she crossed to the bed and gathered her child into her arms. She cooed soft assurances into his tiny ear as she readied for his feeding.

Xena stepped back around the corner when she saw Gabrielle marching out of her mother's room. She had heard every word that passed between the two women; she was left emotionally shaken. Since meeting Thesia and Beta, the warrior had envisioned a life like theirs that she would share with her best friend. However, she had been hesitant in considering the possibility of a romantic relationship with the bard. When she had left to pursue her dream of being a warrior, Gabrielle had been so young and naive. But her friend had grown into a bewitching woman full of passion and love.

Smiling brilliantly, the warrior realized that Gabrielle loved her. She was not sure of the depths of the other woman's feelings; it did not matter. If there were anyone the warrior could trust with her wounded heart, it would be the gentle bard. She could think of no other place to find comfort other than Gabrielle's arms. Realizing that the bard was approaching the common room, Xena pushed away from the wall. With measured casualness, she crossed the tavern to the family table.

When she finally sat in the corner of the room, she saw Gabrielle striding stiffly towards the table. Although troubled by how Estepani felt about her role in Lyceus' death, Xena's sorrow was overwhelmed by the magnitude of Gabrielle's passionate defense. Her heart refused to surrender the chance that she might find a new life in Amphipolis with Gabrielle.

The bard smiled warmly at her. Her emerald eyes only showed a painful hint of the earlier confrontation. Lowering herself gingerly to the bench, the bard saw the look of disapproval that flashed over the warrior's face. "I know," she sighed as she stretched out her injured leg. "You told me to stay put."

"You always were stubborn," Xena mused with a gentle twinkle in her eyes.

"I prefer to think of myself as persistent," the bard returned as she snatched a tankard from Xena's hands.

"Gabrielle, wait! That's...."

The bard smiled as she swallowed a large draught of port. "After that battle, this really hits the spot," she said as she licked her lips.

Xena chuckled and shook her head. "I can't believe how much you've grown up," she whispered. "I remember a kid who used to follow me everywhere."

Returning the tankard to her friend, Gabrielle smiled impishly. "You never know, Xena. I may still be that kid," she retorted with easy humor.

"I don't think so," the warrior chuckled. "You have a child, fer cryin' out loud. How old is she?"

Gabrielle smiled with maternal pride. "She's seven."

The warrior ran the numbers quickly through her calculating mind. "I didn't know you were being courted when I left."

Shifting uncomfortably on the bench, Gabrielle lowered her head. "I wasn't," she replied hesitantly.

"Oh, I get it...some kind of whirlwind romance like you bards always talk about." Xena managed to keep her tone playful. Her eyes, though, darkened briefly with jealousy.

"No, nothing like that, either." Gabrielle's brow furrowed; she could not think of a way to explain what had happened that day by the river when Hope was conceived. "It wasn't anything planned," she finally explained enigmatically.

The warrior glanced at Gabrielle's wrists; she saw no betrothal bracelet and wondered where the bard's husband was. She winced from the heartache of knowing that her friend loved another person. However, she pushed her feelings aside seeing the other woman's discomfort. She reached across the table and took the bard's hand in her own. With a crooked smile, she regarded the smaller woman. "So, tell me, what have you been doing?"

Gabrielle chuckled and shook her head. "This and that...nothing exciting." The bard unconsciously laced her fingers with the warrior's. "Helping Mom and Toris here, telling stories, raising Hope."

"Mom? You mean my mother?" the warrior asked with a quirked brow. "What about your parents. Nothing happened to them, did it?"

"No, not really. My father took my mother and Lila to Poteidaia."

Seeing the pain in the bard's eyes, Xena tightened her hold on Gabrielle's fingers. "Why? Why didn't you go with them?"

Gabrielle looked around the tavern, praying that anyone would interrupt the conversation. She breathed a mental sigh of relief when she saw Cyrene making her way towards them.

"How's Meleager?" Gabrielle asked when the innkeeper took a seat on the bench.

The older woman shrugged; her eyes were bright with tears. "His color still isn't good," she sighed, "but Hippocrates said that his breathing is better."

The bard reached out with her free hand and clasped Cyrene's in support. "He'll pull through," she whispered fiercely. "He's a very strong man."

Cyrene lowered her eyes to the small hand resting on her own. Looking up, she saw that Xena had claimed the bard's other hand; her brows rose slightly at the comfortable intimacy between the two women. "I'm glad you're here, Gabrielle," she stated sincerely. "You, too," the innkeeper added as she grinned at Xena. "Your timing was incredible."

Xena's eyes darkened a moment until Gabrielle squeezed her hand reassuringly. She shrugged with a grin. "I heard that there was a bard in trouble," she replied. "I figured it was Gabrielle and got here as soon as I could."

"Hey!" the bard cried with mock indignation. "I'll have you know that I've been keeping out of trouble."

"Hmm," Xena responded with disbelief. "I suppose trouble isn't getting trapped in a cave as enemy soldiers camp right under your nose."

"That," the bard retorted as she applied greater pressure against the warrior's fingers, "was a freak occurrence."

"Uh, huh," the warrior commented dryly. "Just like the time you got stuck in that tree trying to reach that bird's nest, the time that you fell into the river while doing the laundry, and the time that you started that rock slide while practicing your pan flute."

Gabrielle blushed as she recalled those and many other times that she had stumbled into danger. She shrugged sheepishly and took a drink of Xena's port. "You were always there for me," she replied. "I always knew that you would rescue me."

"I'm glad I was," the warrior stated softly.

"Me, too," the bard agreed quietly.

Cyrene cleared her throat and stood awkwardly; she felt as though she was eavesdropping on a very private conversation. Her heart, though, warmed at the thought that perhaps the two women would find a way to erase the pain in both of their pasts. "Well, I'm going to spend some time with Meleager," she said as she bent to kiss Gabrielle's head. She rounded the table and gave the same to Xena. "Welcome home, my daughter," she whispered into the warrior's raven hair.

As the afternoon passed into evening, exhaustion caught up to the warrior. All through the dinner that Gabrielle had cooked especially for her, Xena fought the seductive call of Morpheus. The compassionate bard who sat at her side witnessed her battle.

"Xena," Gabrielle began as she lowered her own fork, "why don't you go upstairs? I fixed a room up for us."

Xena tried to raise her brow, but the weight was too much and she settled with a hooded look. "Us?"

The bard blushed as she lowered her eyes to the food on her plate. "Well, there were only two rooms available...and 'Stepi and Hope have one room...and well," the bard sighed, "Estepani isn't exactly talking to me right now. I'd rather sleep with...." Gabrielle's color deepened to a dark crimson. "I'd rather sleep knowing that the person next to me isn't going to strangle me in my sleep."

The warrior glanced down to the bard's neck; she thought it too beautiful for such cruel treatment. Xena nodded with a slight grin. "Sure, Gabrielle. Let me finish dinner first, though. It really is good." The warrior took another bite of mutton and closed her eyes in pleasure. "Where'd you learn to cook like this?"

"I spent a lot of time in the kitchen when I first came to live here. I just started experimenting with seasonings and stuff."

"And she still won't tell me what she uses in her stew," Cyrene chided playfully as she joined the couple.

Xena raised blood-shot eyes to see that the tavern was nearly empty; only a few tables were occupied by patrons that were finishing their meals.

The innkeeper gasped at her daughter's appearance. "Xena, you look like Tartarus." Cyrene raised a hand to her daughter's brow; she clucked her tongue when she found the warrior's skin to be slightly warm.

Raising a weary hand to capture her mother's, Xena sighed. "I'm just tired, Mother."

"Well, there's a simple solution to that, Little One," the older woman chastised. "You march yourself up to bed right now. Gabrielle will get you settled."

The bard nodded as she wiped the last traces of dinner from her plate. "I tried," she mumbled around a piece of bread. "She won't listen to me."

Lowering her fork, Xena capitulated with a heavy sigh. "All right," she said as she drew on enough strength to stand. "I'll go to bed."

Cyrene nodded in approval as the bard struggled to her own feet. "Gabrielle, honey, you go to bed, too. Toris and I can handle the mess in here."

The bard waved goodnight to her mother; she jumped when she felt the cold metal of an armored bracer settle around her back. "What are you doing," she asked the warrior.

"You shouldn't be putting any weight on that leg," Xena answered with a stifled yawn. "Just lean on me."

"Xena, you barely have enough strength to carry yourself to bed, yet alone me. I'll manage fine on my own." Gabrielle sighed in defeat when her friend's arm merely tightened its hold.

The couple's path to the stairs was blocked when Carapon rose from his table to greet them. He held his cap nervously as his eyes rose to meet Xena's. "I...uh...I mean, my wife Myasthenia and I want to thank you for returning our daughters safely."

Xena's shook her head in denial. "Gabrielle kept them safe, not me," she answered quietly.

"But she did fight off forty men so that we could make our way back to the village," the bard explained quickly. "Why, if it wasn't for her, I think we'd have been stuck in that cave forever."

Carapon's eyes widened upon hearing of the warrior's courageous feat. "Then you are both in our debt," he replied with a shallow bow. With a timid smile, he returned to his family.

Xena snorted as she led Gabrielle up the stairs to their room. "Forty men?"

The bard shrugged and flashed the warrior a bright smile. "It seemed like forty."

The warrior shook her head in amusement. "Hardly," she mumbled as she finally surrendered to the yawn that was making her jaws hurt. "And you would not have been in that cave forever."

"One night seemed like forever," Gabrielle retorted.

"Gabrielle, we spent an entire summer in that cave one year. One night is nothing compared to that."

"Yeah, well, Warrior Princess," Gabrielle smirked as she opened the door to their room, "you weren't there to keep me entertained."

Xena smiled indulgently as she scanned the room. It was like her mother always kept her rooms - tidy and comfortable. A small bath was filled and the scent of exotic oil permeated the room. She felt a desperate need to use the tub but her body was not willing to go through the effort. She sighed longingly at the tendrils of steam that rose from the water's surface.

"It's from Toris," Gabrielle said as she read a piece of parchment that had been left on a small table. "He said that he owed you for repaying his debt to Atrius' army."

"What debt?"

"Toris' lover Eresthenes was shot as the two of them were bringing in a wine shipment. He's the other guy that is in my room with Meleager."

"Oh," the warrior groaned as she sank into the soft pallet.

The bard raised a dubious eyebrow; the corners of her mouth lifted in gentle amusement. "You don't think that I'm going to sleep with you like that, do you?"

Xena's eyes opened a fraction and turned to find Gabrielle leaning against the table. "Why not," she mumbled as she wiggled to get more comfortable.

"Well, for one thing," the bard snorted, "you smell."

The warrior sniffed the air delicately and shrugged. "You get used to it after a while," she mumbled drowsily.

"Trust me, I won't." Gabrielle shook her head and limped over to the bed. She sat beside her friend and patted the older woman's thigh. "Come on, Xena. I'll help you. Besides, you have to get out of this armor." The bard sighed in frustration when the warrior rolled to her side to get more comfortable. "I mean it, Xena. Get up now." Irritated that the warrior seemed to disregard the matter, the bard's eyes narrowed dangerously. "All right," she whispered, "if that's the way you want to be."

Xena gasped when she felt Gabrielle's fingers find a sensitive spot on the inside of her thigh. She shot up to a sitting position. When the bard giggled, Xena growled in disgruntlement. "You always did have a ruthless streak," she muttered. "I should never have told you about that."

"What? I'm the only person that knows that you are ticklish in that one spot." Gabrielle smiled innocently. "It's not like I'd trade that information for anything."

"You aren't going to let this go, are you," the warrior asked as she began to remove her armor.

"Nope," the bard replied with an emphatic shake of her head. "I refuse to get into this bed with you smelling like you've bedded with a horse for the past week."

"Horse?" Xena's brow rose slightly. "I thought it was the sweat."

The bard's smile became mysteriously vague; her nostrils flared as she tried to find the warrior's natural scent hidden by Argo's.

Xena cleared her throat to get Gabrielle's attention. When the bard focused emerald eyes on her, the warrior nodded her head. "Well, you said you would help," she said as she stood and offered her back to her friend.

Gabrielle gulped silently as she began to undo the laces of Xena's battledress. Her eyes caressed every inch of skin as it was revealed. Her breath caught in her throat when the leather fell to the floor with a dull thud. Firm, supple muscle and feminine curves entranced her.

The trance was broken when Xena moved away to step into the tub.

Xena was oblivious to the effect she was having on the bard. Her body was on the verge of shutting down; her mind could not focus on the briefest of thoughts. She sighed when her body sank into the loving caress of the scented water. "Gabrielle?"

The bard shook her head to clear her thoughts. She blushed when she realized that she had been physically affected by the sensual proximity of the warrior. "Hmm?"

"Would you mind helping me wash? I don't think I can even lift a finger now." Xena hummed low in her throat as her head fell back to rest against the rim of the tub.

Gabrielle's fingers began to twitch involuntarily. Her stomach dipped in time with an erotic dance. She began to question the wisdom of sleeping in the same room with her friend, especially when she was not sure how Xena would react to the illicit images that were burning through the bard's mind.

"Please?" Xena groaned when she found the simple chore of soaping a sponge to be almost impossible.

The warrior's tone of helplessness finally cut through the haze of lust that enveloped the bard. Gabrielle hung her head in shame. Xena really needed her, and all she could think of was the soft curve of her friend's lips, hips, and everything in between. Gabrielle mentally chastised herself for being so callous to Xena's immediate needs. "Of course I will," the bard replied quietly. Gabrielle rose and watched the steam caress the warrior's body. "I'll be back in a minute," she promised as she quickly left the room.

The bard stood in the deserted hallway; she leaned her forehead against the smooth wall. "I can do this," she mumbled to herself. "She needs a friend right now...not some lecherous, deprived, wanton strumpet." Gabrielle banged her head once against the wood to emphasize her own words.

"Friends do this sort of thing all the time," she assured herself, "especially when they're sick or exhausted." She took a hesitant step towards the door and the soaking warrior on the other side. "And it's not like I've never washed her back or anything. We did that all the time when we were kids." Her brow furrowed in thought. "So why do I feel like I'm turning into a puddle of mush at the thought of doing it now?" The bard bowed her head in confusion. "I can't think of anything else but how soft her skin looks or how blue her eyes are," she whispered.

Sighing heavily, Gabrielle stepped from the wall; she caressed the wash-worn wood and nodded to herself. "I can't think about this right now. She needs me...and I don't want to lose her." The bard steeled her composure as she laid her hand on the doorknob. "I can't lose her," she whispered.

Xena looked up and when the bard entered the room and dragged a chair next to the tub.

"Where do you want me to start?" Gabrielle asked with forced lightness as she approached the tub. Sitting down, she accepted the soap and sponge from the warrior.

"Anywhere you want, Gabrielle." Xena shifted her long length in the cramped tub. "Just do it...before I fall asleep. You won't want to carry me to bed."

Gabrielle bit her lip in discomfort; she struggled to still the eager trembling of her hands. Taking a deep breath, she leaned close to Xena and started on the nearest arm. All through the torturous scrubbing, her eyes darted to the warrior's. She was afraid that her touch was lingering too long. She feared that her own soft sounds of pleasure betrayed her desire. She sighed with relief when she realized that Xena had indeed fallen asleep. She quickly completed her chore. When she finished, she shook her friend's shoulder.

Xena mumbled incoherently as she rose from the water. She complied without complaint as the bard led her to the bed. She gratefully sank into a dreamless sleep.

Bowing her head in frustration, Gabrielle dried the warrior's body. After draping the towel over the chair to dry, she crawled into bed. She wanted nothing more than to curl up against Xena's side. Unsure of the warrior's acceptance of such an intimacy, however, she remained on her own side of the pallet. Eventually, the events of the last two days caught up to Gabrielle. Moments after closing her eyes, she was asleep.

Some time during the night, the friends' hands found each other with an instinctive need to feel connected. Both smiled with the rapture of being completed.

The next morning, Gabrielle woke to find that she was hugging the warrior's arm. With a fearful jerk of her head, she looked up to see that Xena was still sleeping soundly. Mentally wiping her brow in relief, the bard scooted off the bed. Tantalizing aromas of breakfast teased her senses; her stomach rumbled with need.

With a gentle smile, she tucked the light blanket up under Xena's chin and left to quiet her hunger.

Xena woke in the early afternoon. Her senses flared with sudden awareness in the strange surroundings. After a moment, she remembered the events of the night before. After checking the empty side of the bed and the height of the sun through the opened shutters, the warrior realized how late it was. Before she could throw the blanket off her legs, however, the door to the room opened.

Gabrielle stopped in her tracks when she saw the long blade that the warrior held defensively. She tapped her foot in amusement; her eyes sparkled. "Well, if you're going to treat me like that, I suppose I won't serve you lunch in bed."

Smiling impulsively, Xena lowered her sword to the floor and scooted back to sit against the headboard.

The tray began to rattle in the bard's trembling hands. Gabrielle blushed when the warrior's torso was revealed; the blanket only covered her from the waist down. Clearing her throat, she stepped into the room and sat on the edge of the bed.

The warrior's brow rose when she saw that the bard had trouble meeting her eyes. Realizing the other woman's discomfort, she pulled the blanket up and tucked it under her arms.

Gabrielle had to swallow a moan of disappointment. She forced herself to take even breaths as she raised her eyes to meet crystal blue. "I thought you might be hungry," she said as she transferred the tray to Xena's lap.

Xena smiled in gratitude. She picked up a spoon and swirled it through the soup. "I want to thank you for helping me last night," she said quietly. "You're the best friend I've ever had."

"Xena...."

"No, really, Gabrielle. For the longest time, I couldn't trust anyone. Last night, I was vulnerable and you took care of me. I knew that I was safe in your hands. I really...liked that."

"It was nothing," Gabrielle whispered as she blushed shyly. "You would have done the same for me."

"Without a thought," Xena immediately replied.

The bard nodded and smiled. "Well, now that we have that settled," she said as she pointed to the tray, "eat."

Xena smiled crookedly as she raised the spoon to her mouth. Her eyes closed in rapture as the delicate broth rolled across the back of her tongue. "Did you make this?"

Gabrielle shrugged as she stood and began to gather the warrior's armor and leather battledress from the floor. "It's just soup."

"It's good," the warrior stated with emphasis. "And the service is nice, too."

The bard stared at the warrior until the sound of an armored bracer hitting the floor broke the spell. She knelt hastily to retrieve the article. "Well, this stuff needs cleaned. Joxer promised that he'd fix it up like new," the bard said as she backed out of the room.

"What about me? What am I supposed to wear?"

"Uh...if you really have to get out of bed, I suppose I could find something nice for you to wear," Gabrielle stammered; she remembered the sight of the warrior reclining unclothed on the bed. "I promise this won't take long," she said as she flashed another shy smile and shut the door to the room. She leaned against it for a moment, grateful that there was nobody in the hallway to witness the crimson stain of her heated flesh.

After several deep breaths, she pushed away from the door and limped down the hall.

Xena listened as the bard finally moved away from the room. Her brow was furrowed in thought as she finished her lunch. When all the food was gone, she settled against the pillows and thought about her best friend.

When she had last seen Gabrielle, the young woman was fifteen. With a gentle smile, the warrior realized that the bard had grown to be a beautiful woman. Gabrielle had about her an aura of serenity and confidence. She had lost her naiveté, yet her eyes still shone with a hint of innocent wonderment. Remembering the bard's argument with Estepani the day before, Xena smiled. The bard had not lost her fire or passion; it had only grown brighter with age. The bard was a strong, capable woman who loved unconditionally.

The warrior felt as if the gentle love and support that her friend generously offered filled the empty places in her soul. She smiled gently when she realized that the bard had eased her discomfort and fear of returning home. All she had to do now was to reconcile with the rest of her family.

Xena looked up suddenly; a soft knock at the door announced Cyrene's entrance.

The innkeeper crossed the room and settled on the bed. She took her daughter's hand in her own and patted it. "You are looking much better this morning. I knew Gabrielle would take good care of you."

"I really appreciate all that you've done, Mother," Xena said as she pulled her surprised mother into a hug. "Thank you for...welcoming me home," she whispered. "I was afraid that you would hate me after everything," she admitted.

Cyrene made a noise of disbelief as she shook her head. "Our lives are shaped by the Fates. You could not stop what happened any more than I could have."

The warrior shook her head in denial. "No, I don't believe that." Xena took a deep breath and bowed her head. "A long time ago, not long after I left home, I made the mistake of trusting...someone. He convinced me that his way was the only way for me to accomplish my goals. I was foolish to believe him. One moment of weakness led to the deaths of thousands of people," the warrior choked as she tried to speak around the lump in her throat. "I'm so sorry I hurt you," the warrior rasped as she began to cry.

"Well, I came in here to see my little girl and instead, I find a woman who has seen too much in her life." Cyrene shook her head as she comforted her sobbing daughter. "Xena, you are my daughter...I love you. Yes, I was angry," she admitted quietly, "but Gabrielle is quite the advocate. She never lets anyone say a word that might besmirch your honor."

"She shouldn't waste her time. I sacrificed my honor a long time ago," the warrior mumbled as she wiped her eyes dry with the palms of her hands. "What I have done should never be forgiven."

Cyrene cradled her daughter's cheek. She smiled softly as her thumbs wiped away some lingering moisture. "You had better not tell Gabrielle that. She forgave you a long time ago. She truly loves you. She has such a pure heart...even after what she has been through."

Xena's nerves prickled with trepidation at the tone of the innkeeper's words. "What do you mean? What has she been through?" the warrior asked; she was losing a battle to a fear of the unknown.

Sighing, Cyrene released her daughter and walked to the opened window. She stared unseeing at the children that played below in the road below. Her words were uncertain when she began to speak again. "I overheard you asking Gabrielle about Hope last night," she said. "Did she tell you what happened?"

Xena shook her head as she struggled to maintain her composure. "She never did get around to that."

The innkeeper bowed her head as she listened to the girls shouting with youthful glee. She smiled forlornly when she saw Gabrielle watching Hope and the triplets as they played a game of tag. "After you left, Gabrielle spent a lot of time alone. She would go down to the river and just spend hours writing little adventures and romances. What she didn't know was that her father had betrothed her to Perdicus."

The warrior strained to hear her mother's words. She went pale beneath her tan when Cyrene's apprehension and fear tainted her words.

Cyrene gathered her thoughts as she watched the girls run down the road to play at Apagron's house. "Perdicus became angry that Gabrielle spent so much time thinking about you. One day, he came upon her at the river...." The innkeeper closed her eyes as she remembered her first sight of the young bard that night. She rushed to finish her tale. "He beat and raped her. When Herod found out about it, he became enraged and disowned her. I brought her here to the inn to live. I couldn't bear the thought of her out there alone. She was like a flower that had been crushed under a heavy heel. It wasn't long after that we found out that she was expecting."

Xena's jaw was rigid with irrational fury. She closed her eyes and bowed her head. Silent screams of rage caused her to cover her ears in denial. Her eyes began to tear as she pictured the bard losing her innocence at the hands of a ruthless rapist. "No," she muttered darkly. "Not Gabrielle."

"Yes, Xena. She was raped. That's what I mean when I say that she has a pure heart despite what happened. She still sees the good in people. She still trusts them."

The warrior stood and began to stalk the room. Her nudity was forgotten as she tried to quell the red fury that surged throughout her body. Her fists were clenched; blood began to drip from cuts that her nails made. "That bastard! I should have known," she growled.

Xena looked up when the door to her room creaked as it was opened.

Gabrielle stood just inside the room; her face was blank with shock. Inside, though, the bard cringed from the anger that sparked in the warrior's eyes. She had only seen violence like that once before. Seeing it again triggered a natural response to flee. She never wanted to see it again. Her eyes flickered from the warrior to the innkeeper. "Mom?" she whispered. Her voice trembled. "You told her," she said numbly.

"Why didn't you tell me that Perdicus raped you?" Xena asked with dark intensity. When the bard visibly flinched, the warrior swore quietly; she forced herself to calm down.

She succeeded when she remembered the feeling of her sword plunging into Perdicus' heart; she could still see his pain-filled eyes waiting for Tartarus. A feral smile barely revealed gnashing teeth as she relived Perdicus' death; her long hair concealed the frightening sight from the other women's eyes. She considered it poetic justice that she was the one to avenge the bard.

When she finally looked up again, she found Gabrielle backing away from her. Recognizing the look of desperate, irrational fear in the bard's eyes, the warrior bit her lip to stifle a sob. She pictured the bard's violated body; she imagined the hell that the young girl had endured. Xena spun to hide the emotions that began to ravage her face. She desperately fought the urge to put her fist through the wall.

Cyrene stepped across the room and gathered Gabrielle into her arms. She whispered soft assurances into the younger woman's hair and urged her to sit upon the bed. "Xena," she ordered softly, "sit down."

When Xena moved to comply and to sit on the other side of the bard, Gabrielle struggled and tore herself free from the innkeeper's arms. The young woman sobbed and began to turn red as shame and fear started her heart pounding furiously. After a violent breath, the bard turned and limped out of the room as fast as she could.

She ran from the fury in Xena's eyes; she ran to cower in her own shame. She had always feared that if Xena found out about the rape that the warrior would not love her anymore. Her friend's actions earlier when dealt the truth confirmed Gabrielle's fears. Xena could not face her anymore. She had thought that the rape did not matter anymore; it had been so long ago. But the news had been new to Xena. In the warrior's reaction, the bard relived that violent day all over again.

Gabrielle ran because she felt her heart breaking; she was sure that Xena would leave because of what had happened.

When Xena moved to follow the bard, Cyrene stopped her with a gentle touch. "Xena, you aren't dressed."

"I don't care," the warrior muttered. "Gabrielle needs me."

"Xena, wait!"

Like an obedient daughter, the warrior stopped and turned to face her mother. "What?"

"When people found about what happened to Gabrielle, they weren't very kind. Those who did not ignore her outright thought nothing of degrading her when she was in the room. It took a long time and the birth of Hope for her to get past that pain."

"What does this have to do with me," Xena asked as she pulled the blanket from the bed.

"She loves you, Xena. She considers you family...closer than family." Cyrene pushed her hair off her face with two agitated hands. "Xena, she thinks that you'll think less of her and it's hurting her."

"Nothing could change how I feel about her," Xena swore as she wrapped the blanket around her body. "She should know that."

"How, Xena? You just returned home. Have the two of you had time to talk privately? Have you told her what she means to you?"

The warrior narrowed her eyes when she heard the truth in her mother's words. "I guess there's no time like the present, then," she said as she rushed from the room.

Cyrene followed quickly and shouted down the stairs, "Check the barn. She likes to hide in the hayloft when she's working things out."

Xena raised her arm to acknowledge that she had heard her mother's words. She gathered her blanket to free her legs so that she could sprint to the barn. She vaguely wondered how she was going to reach the traumatized bard.

Her brow furrowed as she entered the barn and concentrated her senses. The sounds of ragged breathing reached her ears and she mentally sighed. With one hand, she held her blanket closed and with the other, she climbed the ladder to the loft. When she spotted Gabrielle curled into a ball and crying, the warrior bowed her head in shame.

She counted another victim sacrificed to her ambition. She figured that if she had not left in the first place, then Perdicus would not have been able to rape Gabrielle. She was pacified slightly by the fact that she had claimed the bard's right of justice.

She wanted to fall to her knees and beg Gabrielle's forgiveness. She was consumed by tender emotion as she gathered the weakened bard into her arms. She held the smaller woman and rocked her. When the wretched sobbing had ceased, Xena ducked her head and kissed her friend's brow. "I'm so sorry, Gabrielle. I'm so sorry that he hurt you."

The bard raised tear-stained eyes reluctantly to gaze at the warrior. Her heart swelled with emotion when she saw the tears that began to fall from Xena's sad blue eyes. "Do you hate me?" she asked timidly, afraid that her friend would get angry again.

"Hate you?" Xena asked incredulously. "How can I hate you? I...love you. I always have. You're my best friend and my family. No matter what, Gabrielle, I will always love you. Please believe that," the warrior entreated.

Gabrielle looked deep into her friend's eyes and saw the truth of Xena's words. She collapsed once more into the warrior's arms. She began sobbing with relief. "I was so afraid that you wouldn't like me anymore," she cried.

Xena shook her head in denial and whispered "Gabrielle...." When the bard looked up again, the warrior could not resist leaning closer. The younger woman's open love and trust pulled her in on invisible strings.

When their lips met, they were filled with surprise and wonder. The brief touch stirred unknown emotions in them both.

"I do love you, Gabrielle."

"I love you, too, Xena."

Both women settled into the embrace; both were consumed by thoughts of what had just happened and what it might mean for their future.

Gabrielle still trembled occasionally when she recalled the rage that had been like liquid fire in Xena's eyes.

Xena's eyes became troubled as she wondered how she would ever be able to redeem herself in Gabrielle's heart.

They were quiet, as the day grew long. When the call for dinner roused them from their embrace, they rose and left the barn together.

Cyrene smiled when she saw that both women looked better than they had earlier. She nodded to herself and stepped back into the kitchen. "It's a start," she said softly as she began to prepare her family's meals.

Continued in Part Five

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