Part II: The Test

"It didn't have to end this way..."

Somehow, of course, it always had to end this way.

The half-mortal son of Artemis -- far more mortal than he had thought -- looked down in shock at the crimson flow from the gash in his belly, and then up again at the dark-haired woman warrior before him.

"Oh yes." Blood bubbled on Bellerophon's lips. "It did."

He staggered and fell backward.

As life faded from his still-open eyes, Xena knelt over the prince's body. She could ignore the sting in her upper arms where he had slashed at her but not the dull ache in her heart. This man had been driven not by greed or power-lust but by revenge for his mother, the goddess she had to kill to protect her own child. And she had offered him every way out, every opportunity to end the cycle of killing...

Now that it was over, the need to focus fully on her adversary and on the fight -- that total focus she had learned from Ares years ago -- was gone, and she could let her surroundings drift back into her consciousness. Everything here seemed so ordinary: the clearing lit up by patches of sun shining through the trees, the sounds and ripe smells of the woods. Everything except for the blood on the grass ... and several men lying dead on the ground.

"Come on -- get up!"

For a second, Xena didn't recognize the voice. Then she whirled around, and felt as if a cold hand had clenched inside her chest: it was Gabrielle, pursuing one of Bellerophon's men. The soldier stumbled and sprawled on the grass. The Amazon bard gave a yell, her face distorted, and raised her sword.

"Gabrielle!"

The scream made Gabrielle stop and turn.

"It's over," Xena said.

An almost puzzled look crossed Gabrielle's face. She glanced down at the cowering man and slowly lowered her sword. Then, a little unsteadily, as though she had to make a conscious decision every time she moved a foot, she walked toward Xena.

"You won," Xena said. If only she could make it sound as if she meant it. The treacherous moisture was welling up in her eyes and threatening to spill over.

Gabrielle shook her head.

"I don't think I did," she said in a small voice. She seemed so much older than just a few days ago, and yet for a moment she looked like a lost child. "With each battle, I lose more of myself..."

Xena's own words from the day before echoed in her ears: "Just doesn't seem like the Gabrielle I know." Not the Gabrielle who, all those years, had been her link to innocence, to the goodness that she wasn't sure she could ever find in herself... This was the warrior who had led her fellow Amazons in a desperate mission to rescue the kidnaped Varia -- who had stormed the beach at the Helicon fortress under a pitiless hail of arrows, leaving behind the wounded who cried for help; rallied her depleted troops for a final battle that she knew many would not survive; thrown a dead comrade's body to the sharks because it was the only way to distract them and save the living. What was there to say now?

"War is tough on the soul, Gabrielle..."

Just then, Xena felt the back of her neck tingle, and almost in the same instant heard the "whoosh" behind her and saw the telltale blue flash. Gabrielle's eyes widened, and there were scattered gasps from the Amazons who were gathering to celebrate their hard-won victory.

Xena clenched her jaw and muttered, the words coming out as a hiss, "Ares... this is not a great time for a date."

Getting no answer, she turned around. The God of War stood motionless, his arms crossed, an absent look on his face. Xena had seen this look before, with just a hint of a not-quite-human glow in the dark eyes; she knew that he was feeling the intoxication of combat, the energy of war that fed his powers. She had accepted the fact that this side of him existed, whether she liked it or not.

But this was different.

Ares was staring at Gabrielle.

He walked toward her, right past Xena. His nostrils flaring, his gaze slid over the blood that spattered Gabrielle's neck and chest, and then rested on her face. He held out his hand.

"Gabrielle... You're feeling it, aren't you..."

The bard flinched back, her eyes terrified and pleading.

"You're a true warrior now..." he continued, his fingers brushing against her cheek. After a brief pause, he said something else; but Xena didn't hear the words, either because his voice had dropped so low or because of the angry pounding in her ears. She walked over to Gabrielle, took her by the shoulders and moved her aside. Then, as hard as she could, she hit Ares in the face.

* ~ * ~ *

It had been more than ten months since the day when Xena met Ares at the funeral of a young soldier who had helped him in his mortal days -- since the night when she realized that the God of War now had far too much humanity in him for his own comfort, and when so many years of games and denied longing ended in a moonlit field.

Over that time, they'd settled into a routine that had come to seem almost normal. They rarely made plans; it's not as if she could know in advance when she was going to be busy busting some slavers' heads or defending some village from bandits or rescuing some silly girl from a cult of homicidal maniacs or battling some other breed of evildoer. When they were together, Xena had no idea if she would see him again in two days or in two weeks. Sometimes, she'd call him; usually, she would pick up his presence when she was getting settled in her room at an inn, or when she and Gabrielle were setting up camp or having a meal by the fire or riding along a deserted stretch of road. Often, in a little contest of wills, she waited for Ares to show himself and he'd wait for her to acknowledge him. When Gabrielle was around, she was liable to lose patience first -- having noticed the telltale smile struggling to break out on Xena's lips -- and snap, "All right, Ares, come out already." Finally, he'd flash into view, lounging by a tree or sprawled on the grass, and once perched casually atop Argo. ("Get down, you bastard," Xena snarled and threw a harmless rock which he made a show of ducking; she didn't know for sure if she was genuinely irked or just giving him the reaction he wanted.)

They spent some of their nights at an abandoned fortress in Thrace which he had gone to ridiculous lengths to turn into a romantic hideaway -- plush rugs on the floors, oil lamps adding their golden shimmer to the glow of the hearth, satin and furs and down pillows on the vast bed, trays of fruit and delicacies on ornate tables. The first time he brought her there, Xena had to fight back a burst of laughter and was tempted to tell him he'd forgotten the rose petals, or to ask if he got his decorating tips from Aphrodite. Instead, she said with a low chuckle, "You'll be wearing silk next," only to turn around and see him in a loose, long-sleeved black silk shirt and matching pants; his grin gave way to an open-mouthed gasp when she reached out and rubbed the smooth fabric on his chest. She smiled wickedly and told him that of course she meant white silk, and he bent down to kiss her neck and whispered, "Ooh, you're really pushing it now." As Xena closed her eyes and sighed at his caress, she felt her body being freed from the confining leathers and enveloped in what turned out to be a pale yellow robe. "Ares ... I do believe you're going soft," she purred, knowing he wouldn't miss such an opening for lewd repartee; and indeed, as he carried her to the bed he breathed hotly into her ear, "Not where it matters."

She was adamant about staying away from his temples and his halls on Olympus; she never explained why, and he never asked. So he took her to other places: a tiny island overgrown with dazzlingly lush vegetation; a rugged spot on a seashore, where Xena found herself oddly moved by the sight of a twisted tree reaching toward the sky from the edge of a barren cliff high above the crashing waves; a grotto filled with luminous, gently rippling sea water whose reflections bathed the walls and the low arched ceiling in such magical blue that it literally took her breath away.

That the God of War could appreciate such loveliness was only one of the ways in which he had managed to amaze her in these past months. Once, as they sat by a waterfall on a moonless night, he lifted a hand and Xena watched, rapt, as his finger traced an intricate weave of fiery lines in the darkness, much like the designs with which the Celts decorated their weapons and jewelry. The pattern lingered in the night air, its orange glow lighting up the mist that rose from the waterfall, and she finally said, with genuine wonderment underneath the teasing tone, "I didn't know you were so ... artistic!" -- and he replied, giving her shoulder a light squeeze, "Hang with me for a while and you may find out more things you didn't know."

At times, to be sure, Ares would live up to Gabrielle's jibe about how their romantic evenings would consist of dinner and swordplay, and cajole Xena into giving him a good workout with swords or in hand-to-hand combat. But once, when she ribbed him about caring only for the mindless rough-and-tumble side of warfare, he arched an eyebrow at her and, with a snap of his fingers, produced an exquisitely carved set of chaturanga, the Indian game in which the players maneuvered a small army of pieces on the board with the aim of capturing the opponent's king. During her time in India, Xena had mastered it well enough to rise to the challenge, and it soon became a favorite pastime of theirs, though Ares still couldn't resist a bit of mischief if the game dragged on too long. The pieces would change positions or vanish altogether while he'd give Xena his best mock-innocent look. Once, he managed to throw her completely off-balance, first with shock and then with helpless laughter, when the ivory and ebony figures suddenly came alive -- the knights' tiny horses rearing up, the miniature elephants trudging across the board in violation of all the rules, and Xena's queen gesturing invitingly to Ares' king.

While she couldn't share in his life -- and preferred to think about it as little as possible -- he proved surprisingly willing to share in hers. He would sometimes spend a whole day with Xena and her companion, acting so much like the mortal Ares they remembered that Gabrielle didn't mind much, not even the evening he picked her just-finished scroll as the target for his wit. He'd hang around their campsite, bantering with them, or quietly watching his love as she went about her ordinary tasks. There were times when she could almost forget that he was a god, until they went for a swim and she couldn't help noticing how his hair didn't get wet. He only used his powers once -- when Xena, busy skinning and gutting a couple of rabbits, half-facetiously told him he might as well make himself useful if he was going to be underfoot; he winced and shuddered theatrically, then picked up the rabbits one by one, rolled them between his palms and handed them to her fully roasted. ("Great," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "A walking, breathing grill... every housewife should have one.")

A couple of times, he tagged along when the women passed through a town, and even on trips to the market. On one such occasion, Xena teasingly asked if he was going to help buy food for supper; the War God looked at her, his lips twitching with amusement, then wandered off to one of the stalls and came back to present her with a large, gaudily colored box of candy. He seemed to truly enjoy this slumming, as Xena came to think of it; he attracted attention, of course -- female attention in particular -- but no one would have pegged him for anything more than a very imposing warrior. Maybe, she thought, he was trying to experience what things would have been like if he had been part of her life as a mortal.

He tried joining her in her work, with much less success. Twice, he went with her and Gabrielle in pursuit of marauding gangs that terrorized the countryside; the second time, he stopped in the middle of the fight, slid his sword back in the scabbard and, with a conspicuously bored look, waited for the women to finish up. When a few of the thugs were dead and their surviving comrades were tied up and ready for delivery to the local magistrate, Ares rode up to Xena, saluted her with three sarcastic claps, and informed her that, all in all, he'd much rather watch her gut fish than waste her warrior skills on undeserving swine.

Moments like these reminded her of the gulf between them; yet there were other times when she was equally certain that there was no gulf they couldn't bridge.

So far at least, the fulfilment they found in their encounters seemed only to increase their mutual hunger. There were nights when they gave in to that hunger the moment they were alone, mouths meeting in a bruising kiss, bodies slamming into each other, tongues thrusting and parrying in a quick prelude to an almost animalistic coupling. Or they could draw out their sensual play forever, lying slightly apart and running their fingertips over each other's skin, caressing everywhere but where they craved it most, occasionally letting their lips touch, until it was almost too much to bear. Vaguely, Xena knew -- though she didn't think much about such things -- that, fast or slow, rough or tender, their lovemaking was never just about sex; it was about everything they could rarely, if ever, express in words.

She wondered sometimes if he was happy -- and if she was.

She wondered, too, if she had made the right choice.

She thought about it when, once in a while, ghosts of their run-ins from the old days would come calling. One night in their Thracian love nest, he asked her to put on a dark blue dress with golden buckles and a bodice trimmed with sparkling beads. In that instant, her mind took her to another room, another night many years ago: Ares had whisked her out of a filthy jail cell after he'd framed her for murder, in the first of his schemes to force her to rejoin him, and brought her to some castle to make her his irresistible offer and had her wear a dress much like this one.

The memory sat like a cold heavy lump in her chest. Ares wanted to know what was wrong; when she gave in and told him, he looked down with a scowl and tossed the dress aside, letting it disintegrate in a faint shimmer. "I was the God of War, Xena," he said grimly, lifting his eyes again (it only struck her later that he spoke in the past tense). "I wanted my star employee back on the job." She didn't quite know what to say to that, and couldn't help shivering when Ares put his arms around her and whispered, "I'm glad it didn't work." The ghost still hung around, even when they were in bed later that night making love -- until he suddenly stopped and stared at her, then covered her face with frantic kisses, pressed his cheek to hers and groaned, "I'm sorry, Xena... I'm sorry..."

The past was one thing -- but she had to deal with the present as well, every time a war broke out somewhere and she tried to figure out if Ares has a hand in it. More and more often, too, Xena heard news of Alcibiades of Macedonia, the current protegé of the God of War, who was consolidating his military might with an eye to going up against Rome. At the same time, he was gaining a reputation for cruelty -- toward provinces and towns that did not welcome his idea of Greek unity, men who resisted conscription into his army, and his own soldiers whose performance or obedience was not to his satisfaction. When she raised the subject with Ares, he stared at her heavily and said, "It's war, Xena. You want to do something about this, go ahead."

There was one night, a few weeks before the battle at Helicon, when she had almost made up her mind to leave him.

Having drifted off to sleep in the afterglow of gratified passion, Xena was jolted awake by a dream that had something to do with battles, and thought at first that she was still dreaming -- she could hear the distant sounds of war cries, neighing horses, and clashing metal. Next to her, Ares was sitting up, his eyes fixed on something that cast a faint flickering light on his face.

She looked up and stared in disbelief. Before her was something like a window that had opened up in the air; a window in which, she realized, Ares watched a scene unfolding somewhere at that very moment. A city was under attack: In the unnatural light of torches and burning projectiles launched from catapults, soldiers in crimson and gold uniforms climbed up giant wooden towers that had been wheeled up to the city walls, then leaped over the battlements and slid down on ropes while archers on the towers' top platforms gave them cover. The men on the other side were doing a fairly good job of holding back the assault when a terrified voice cut through the din of the fight, screaming, "The gates! They're at the gates!" The vision became blurred, and then shifted into an image of the city gates swinging wide open. A few dead bodies lay nearby, next to a blazing barrack. So the big offensive was merely a diversion -- allowing scouts from the attacking army to get inside the walls, take the guards by surprise, and open the gates.

Soldiers were streaming into the city now; at the head of the troops rode a tall warrior with blond locks falling from under a plumed helmet, quite handsome except for the unpleasantly thin, straight line of his mouth. Xena remembered the descriptions she'd heard: it was Alcibiades.

Just over a hundred of the city's defenders came galloping toward the gates, and their leader, a burly man with a grizzled beard, charged Alcibiades. He was a skilled fighter despite his age, but he and his vastly outnumbered men were merely delaying the inevitable. Within minutes, Alcibiades knocked his opponent's helmet off, evaded a last desperate blow and, with a harsh yell, split open his skull. As the older warrior swayed and crumpled to the ground, his remaining soldiers dropped their weapons. The Macedonian king thrust his sword toward the sky, in a sharp yet strangely graceful gesture; his cry of triumph was echoed by thousands of voices, and a forest of blades shot up in the air. It was hard to tell whether it was blood or fire that made the metal look red.

Xena looked at Ares, and felt her skin crawl. His lips were parted in a bright, feral half-smile; his eyes were sparkling. It was sickening to think that just a few hours earlier she had been making love to him, kissing those lips, staring into those eyes. But there was something even worse: she knew that part of her wanted the War God the way he was now -- and that she herself had been riveted by those images, had felt the drunkenness of battle and the exhilaration of victory. Whatever had possessed her to think that she could resist the darkness in him when she still had so much of it in her own soul? She had to get away from him, or she would lose herself; she had never been more certain of anything in her life.

Then she saw Ares flinch. It was as if a cold blast had hit him in the face, wiping off that horrifying smile, making his mouth tighten and his eyelids droop. She looked into the portal. One of Alcibiades' soldiers was crouched on the ground, clutching at his stomach and failing to stop the blood that gushed through his fingers and over his hands; his eyes were big and almost surprised, his mouth frozen in a silent howl.

With a ragged sigh, Ares moved his hand, obviously about to close the portal. Xena put her hand on top of his and he turned with a start, as if he'd just remembered that she was there. She saw the hurt in his eyes and remembered how he shouted that night in the field, "Dammit, I'm not supposed to feel this way!"

"Ares.." she said softly. "The people in the middle of all this ... they can't shut it off."

He clamped his lips together and sank back on the pillow.

Meanwhile, two men had come up to help their wounded comrade; when they tried to move him, he jerked wildly, with a hoarse shriek that was barely human. They finally managed to lift him up, using a cloak as an improvised stretcher, and carry him off. One of the soldiers shook his head and said, "He's done for."

The image faded slowly. In the dim light of the small fire in the hearth, Ares stared at Xena and gave a resigned little shrug; almost imperceptibly, the corner of his mouth twitched and his eyelashes quivered. Then he pulled her toward him in a tight hug, and she held him and didn't want to ever let him go.

And still she was scared. That was partly why, in this showdown with Bellerophon, she had tried so hard to resolve things peacefully, had even considered sacrificing herself to let Artemis' son satisfy his vengeance if he would leave the Amazons alone (though she had a strong hunch that Ares, whose offer of help in the matter she had firmly rejected, wasn't about to let that happen). Sure, the spirit of War would always be in her, and without it, she wouldn't be able to fight for any good cause; it was useless to pretend otherwise. But could she trust herself to keep that part of her under control, in its place? Perhaps she had never been fully confident of that -- and now that she was with Ares...

Except that sometimes when they were together, she saw something in his face, his eyes, his smile that she never thought she'd see in the God of War: pure happiness, untainted by malevolence or cruelty or cynical glee. And sometimes in those moments, she felt the same clean joy within herself, and knew almost beyond doubt that what they had was good and right.

* ~ * ~ *

Ares reeled from the impact of her blow. Xena found herself grimly hoping it hurt, and wishing she still had the power to make him bleed.

He rubbed his face and blinked, slightly dazed.

"Get away from her," Xena said in a low voice that teetered on the brink of a scream. "Get away."

He looked at Gabrielle and then back at Xena, and dissolved in a blue flare without another word. The Amazons let out a collective breath.

Xena turned to Gabrielle and put a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes were filling up with tears again.

"Gabrielle ... I'm sorry. I should never have let that happen."

The young woman was about to say something when one of the Amazon leaders called out, "Queen Gabrielle!"

"Your people need you." Xena turned away, struggling to get a grip on herself, torn between pride and agony as Gabrielle walked over to the remnants of her troops, locked forearms with Queen Varia in the traditional Amazon salute, and said steadily, "To a strong Amazon nation."

The other women repeated the pledge in hushed tones, and the Warrior Princess whispered it too. The Amazons, she thought wistfully, would never accept her as one of them, and that would always be something of a barrier between her and Gabrielle -- but at least her dear friend had a community of her own, even if she herself did not, and for that Xena was grateful.

She wondered if her display had tipped off any of the Amazons to her special relationship with the God of War. Well, let them gossip, she thought; it was over anyway ... wasn't it? She could never forgive herself if the son of a bitch sank his hooks into Gabrielle. It had to end.

* ~ * ~ *

Dusk was creeping through the grove outside the Amazon village, wrapping the leaves in a soft veil of grey. Xena walked briskly, sweeping aside the branches that got in her way, until she stopped at the edge of a field and took a deep breath.

At the Amazons' request, Gabrielle had taken them back to their lands and agreed to stay for a week or so. After the devastating battle at Helicon, they needed the leader who had been with them through that ordeal. Now she was occupied with the tribe's business, and while Xena had things to do as well -- helping care for the wounded who had made it home, training young warriors to replace the fallen -- she couldn't shake the feeling that she was just tagging along. It had been only two days since their return, and already she was getting restless. Dimly, she knew that it wasn't just because she was stuck on the sidelines.

Xena looked around and shivered. This was this field where, nearly a year ago, she had confronted Ares after learning that Varia, the woman seeking her daughter's death, was his protegee; this was where he had laid his hand on her, making her sway with pleasure as the heat of his newly regained godly power spread through her body, and then told her that fable about the scorpion and the swan. The scorpion would always sting because that was what it did. And yet a short while later, she saw something different in him, something better. Had she been wrong? Maybe ... maybe not ... either way, he was bad for her, he was dangerous...

... and he was here.

She turned to see him lounging by a tree in a pose of studied nonchalance, arms crossed, head cocked, eying her with a smile that managed to be disarmingly boyish and lascivious at the same time.

"Come here often?"

Xena gave him a chilly look. "Last time I did, you were trying to get my daughter killed."

That slapped the smile off his face. Ares eyed her guardedly, and finally said, "Well. I guess this is not a good time."

She took a deep breath; best to do this quickly. "There's not going to be a good time, Ares. Not again."

"What are you talking about?"

"It's over."

In the silence that fell between them, she was very aware of the breeze rustling through the leaves and the tall grass, and the chirping of oblivious birds overhead.

Then he asked, "Why?"

"Because ... it's wrong, Ares. Wrong for me and wrong -- " she looked away -- "for Gabrielle."

"What are you talking about?"

In spite of her best efforts, her voice was shaking. "I'm talking about you messing with Gabrielle."

"Messing?" His eyebrows went up. "Have you lost your mind? What, you think that I was -- "

"This is worse," she said through clenched teeth. "Sniffing at the blood of slain men on her -- "

Ares straightened his shoulders, his face suddenly cold and unreachable. "You know what I am, Xena. When warriors get drunk on battle, I feel it with them, and what I get from that is -- " His voice rose and his jaw trembled a little, the mask slipping. "It's something you'll never understand! If you didn't want me to be like that, you should have -- " he trailed off abruptly.

"So maybe it's not your fault." Xena stood before him stiff-backed, her eyes lowered. "I'm not blaming you. I just can't be with you anymore, Ares. I've been willing to accept this side of you... maybe too willing," she whispered, almost as an aside to herself. "I never thought it would touch Gabrielle."

"Dammit, Xena -- "

He sounded more angry than hurt, and that made it easier. "Good-bye, Ares."

"Good-bye? Just like that?"

She finally forced herself to raise her eyes -- he was scowling, his mouth tight -- and allowed her voice to soften. "We've had some great times together and I -- I'm glad we did." She paused and added, looking away again, "I will miss you."

He didn't try to follow her as she walked off.

* ~ * ~ *

The council meeting was over, and Gabrielle made her way back to the cabin she and Xena shared for the duration of their stay with the Amazons. In the clear, moonless night, there were only a few fluttering torches to light the streets of the village, but it was enough for her to see the shields trimmed with black bands on the doors of those cabins where one of the dwellers had fallen in the battle at Helicon.

She thought of the subtle change in the way the other queens and princesses treated her now: more respectful than before, even deferential, but also more distant. It wasn't surprising; she had led them to victory, but at what cost? The memories pushed their way into her head, as they had so often over these past days. The relentless fire of the catapults ... "We're going to die! We're all going to die!" ... Telling the women that the way to honor their dead was to fight on so the deaths would not be in vain ... "More of us may die today" ... The anguish on Xena's face... "Gabrielle, I can see that you're in pain." -- "Half of my tribe lies dead on the beach. Now, I have to be as cold and ruthless as I can be." ... The moment when she nearly struck down the enemy soldier at her feet, and was stopped only by Xena's cry ... And then Ares staring at her -- Ares as she'd never seen him before, with eyes like embers, with that strange look on his face, totally focused on her and yet far away.

She had felt pure terror at that moment. Perhaps it was because, in a way, she'd gotten so used to Ares. Sure, she still found it hard to understand Xena's relationship with the God of War; his intrusions often irked her, and she hated to admit it but she felt resentful -- jealous -- when Xena went off with him. Yet she had also come to feel almost comfortable around him, almost to like him ... almost to forget who he was. When she faced him in that clearing after the battle with Bellerophon, she knew she was truly looking in the face of War -- far more inhuman than Ares had been when he killed Eli, then tried to lure her into his fold, and then nearly killed her. But what frightened her even more was that Ares, this Ares, was drawn to something in her. "You're feeling it, aren't you... You're a true warrior now..."

The Amazon bard stopped, breathing deeply. She had been a warrior for a long time now, hadn't she? Ever since she went on a rampage in the prison yard at Mount Amaro, killing those Roman soldiers in a blind rage ... and there had been so many battles after that -- when she and Xena fought the temple warriors after Eve's birth, when they faced Athena's army at Amphipolis... Except that this time, she hadn't just shed enemy blood but sent her own sisters to die. Don't leave us... She hunched her shoulders and walked on. Was that what it was all about, being a true warrior? Or was there something else, something she had felt on that day that she'd never felt before -- not just rage, not just ferocious determination to protect Xena and herself and those she loved at all cost, but a kind of ... thrill? Had she enjoyed it?

Gabrielle pushed open the door of the cabin. Xena sat on a low bench mending a rip in one of her boots, lips pursed in concentration, tugging much too hard on the needle and thread.

"Hey," she said. "How was the evening?"

"It was long." The attempt at lightheartedness fell flat, and Gabrielle sighed and sat down to take her boots off. "Just finished discussing who will take in which of the --" she was going to say "orphans," but stumbled and finished a bit awkwardly -- "children." She put away her sais. "Oh, and Xena, Cyane thinks some of the girls you're training are too young..."

"Let's see what Cyane says" -- Xena gave the needle another yank -- "the next time they need fighters." Then she lifted her eyes, and Gabrielle felt a tug at her heart when she saw the pain in them. "Gabrielle ... I'm sorry."

"What about?"

Xena was silent for a moment. "That business with Ares."

"Xena -- it's not your fault," she said, too hastily.

"Maybe it isn't." Xena turned away. "Maybe it is. He's not going to be around anymore, Gabrielle. Not if I can help it."

"What are you saying?"

"I told him it's over."

Gabrielle gave her a questioning look. "Because of me?"

"Maybe you were right all along, Gabrielle. Maybe it should have never started. He's still everything I've spent all these years trying to put behind me." Her voice dropped to a near-whisper, her eyelids fluttering. "I almost forgot about that ... and what happened out there was a reminder." Xena rose abruptly, walked over to Gabrielle and knelt by her side, taking her hands. "You were a reminder. I'll never let it get to you. And I'll never let anything -- anyone -- get between us ... I promised you that."

Gabrielle touched her face.

"Xena -- " She faltered, her eyes darting away momentarily. After a pause, Xena asked, "What?"

"Everything will be all right."

* ~ * ~ *

They had slept late; when Gabrielle got off her cot, light was already streaming in through the small window and slanting across the cabin, tiny specks of dust dancing and swirling inside the sunbeam. At the sound of her moving around, Xena opened her eyes and stretched.

"'Morning." Gabrielle wrinkled her nose at the sun, then turned -- and stifled a gasp. "Xena... I think we, uh, you had a visitor..."

Xena sat up abruptly, and Gabrielle could see, with resignation and without much surprise, the flash of joy in her face before it turned to a glare of icy disapproval. There was a purple flower lying on the coarse brownish blanket.

Gabrielle came closer and sat on the bed as Xena picked up the flower. It was big enough to cover her hand, its large, dark, fuzzy outer petals curling downward, the tender folds in the center opening up to reveal the deep velvety core with a pinkish little stem. Looking closer, the bard noticed that the purple was shot through with a delicate spider web of gold. Was this a piece of exotic earthly flora, she wondered, or a marvel conjured up by Aphrodite in some Olympian version of a hothouse? Had Ares actually picked it out? She tried to imagine such a scene, but her imagination failed, and she couldn't help giggling.

Then she saw Xena fingers clench around the flower -- about, she realized, to rip it to shreds. Before she could even think, her hand flew protectively toward it and she blurted out, "Xena -- don't! ... it's beautiful..."

Xena's lips twitched into an unhappy smirk. "Then why don't you take it."

Gabrielle twirled the flower in her hands, then put it down on the pillow. She sighed and fidgeted, looking down, and finally said, "Xena..."

"Yeah?"

"I need to tell you something."

"Something about Ares?" Xena jerked her head up and their eyes met.

"Did you hear what he said to me ... back there?"

"What, about being a true warrior? Oh, Gabrielle ... don't tell me you're flattered..."

She felt herself blushing. "No, after that."

Xena stared at her uneasily, waiting.

"He said, 'And it's killing you inside.'"

There was a pause as her words seemed to hang in the air between them. Xena didn't move a muscle but her pupils seemed to widen slightly.

"And Xena -- he looked ... different. Like he was feeling bad for me. Like -- all of a sudden, there was something human about him again."

With a barely visible nod, Xena touched the flower on the bed.

"Thank you, Gabrielle."

Later, when Gabrielle was helping Xena buckle her armor, she said, "Xena, if you never saw him again, you know that I wouldn't be crying. But -- I just thought I had to tell you this."

Xena turned and held her in a tight, tense hug.

"I'm glad you did," she said quietly. She stood still for a moment, then went back to the bed and picked up the purple flower, stroking the petals with her fingertips -- suddenly giving Gabrielle a strangely mischievous, almost guilty look before she slipped Ares' gift inside her breastplate. Gabrielle sighed, and finally worked up the nerve to ask, "Will you be ... here when I'm back?"

Very quietly, she said, "I don't know, Gabrielle."

Well, that answered the question.

* ~ * ~ *

She knew he was watching her the whole time while she was training the young Amazons; walking back to the cabin in the gentle light of the setting sun, she had no doubt she would find him there.

As she threw down her sword, she heard the swoosh behind her and then felt his hands on her shoulders, the soft heat seeping into her sore muscles -- damn, it was good. He nuzzled the nape of her neck, and Xena couldn't help leaning back into him.

"So..." he murmured. "My ditzy sister is right -- flowers do work."

His low, sensuous voice sent warm vibrations through her body but she managed to pull away a little and turned around, smirking. "Well, actually, I expected a different kind of gift from you..." He gave her a quizzical look. "Like a severed head or something."

The God of War grinned. "A lovely thought. But much too messy." His eyes twinkled. "So, are we on again? Or ... do you want me to get down on my knees and beg forgiveness?" He knelt on the bearskin on the floor, his hands sliding down to her hips, and when his lips touched the skin above the rim of her boot she knew what sort of apology he had in mind.

"Ares..." She made an effort to shut out the effect of his wet kisses traveling up her thigh. "Don't -- I need to talk to you about ... something..."

"So talk." His voice was muffled. "I can listen."

"Mmm... You are ... such an arrogant ... bastard..." Xena closed her eyes, leaning on his shoulders.

"Yeah," she heard him mutter, "but I'm so good at everything I do." Her laugh broke off when she felt his breath between her legs and then his mouth, nibbling at her through the soaked fabric of her undergarment, making her squirm. There was no point in trying to fight this; she would only give him the satisfaction of defeating her. "Take it off," she said in a harsh half-whisper. His fingers jerked at the laces on her hip before he ripped the linen cloth in half and licked her almost roughly. Her knees were buckling. He could draw this out for what seemed like hours sometimes, but now she could sense his impatience as he swirled his tongue around her nub and sucked it hard -- it felt good, so good that for a moment nothing else mattered, and in just a few seconds she came in a violent spasm.

She sank into his arms and lay panting, shuddering with small aftershocks of pleasure. He kissed her neck, reaching for the straps of her armor.

"No god tricks?" He did his best to give his tone a droll touch.

"No god tricks." She opened her eyes and sighed while he undid the buckles, letting her breastplate drop on the fur-covered floor. The flower fell out too; Ares took it, shook his head and flashed a knowing grin at Xena, brushing his lips against the soft petals before tossing it aside and moving down to take off her boots.

"I've missed you," he said huskily.

Xena chuckled and sat up, reaching to touch the buckle on his belt, and then watched him swallow convulsively as she moved her hand lower.

"So I see."

"Gods ..." He gasped. "Look what you do to me..."

"Me and anything that moves," she said lightly, leaning forward to kiss him -- his mouth still tasting of her, his beard and mustache moist and marked with her scent -- while she worked at the fastenings of his pants. When she broke the kiss, he dropped his head on her shoulder, breathing in shallow, irregular puffs.

"I'm afraid that ... right now I'm ... all out of snappy comebacks," he said through clenched teeth.

She managed to pull the leather down over his hips and he helped her, kicking the pants away along with the boots. She wanted to touch him, to revel in the feel of him, but he was already pushing her down on the rug, his mouth claiming hers in a greedy kiss. "I want you now," he said, his voice thick, and she raised her hips to meet him as he thrust into her. It didn't even matter if she came this time; the pleasure she felt now was different -- not a rising tension that demanded release, but a steady warmth -- the pleasure of his arms around her and his weight on top of her, of being filled by him, of seeing his face like this with his eyes blurry and his mouth loose, of the sounds he made. "I've missed you," he said again, moving faster, slamming his hips into her, his every breath an almost agonized groan. She ran her hands down his back, and he shuddered wildly and shouted her name and then lay still, sliding down to nestle his head between her breasts. Xena held him, stroking his soft hair, and mouthed soundlessly, I've missed you too.

Aloud, she said with a sigh, "Let's go somewhere else."

* ~ * ~ *

Some time later, having just made love again, they were lolling about on their spacious bed in the Thracian fortress. Xena reclined on her side, an ornate silver tray in front of her, eating venison roasted with exotic fruit; Ares watched her, sipping his wine. After a while, he reached over, ran his hand up the side of her leg and started stroking her inner thigh.

She shot him a wry glance. "I'm not done yet."

"Neither am I," he said, bending forward to kiss her shoulder.

"Do you ever get tired?"

"I'll let you know if I ever do."

"I would have thought you'd be tired of me by now," she said, knowing she wasn't being entirely playful.

"You're good for another week or two."

Then he leaned back, stared down into his goblet and was silent for a while. When he spoke again, all the levity was gone from his voice.

"Xena -- "

"What?" she asked warily.

"I -- " Ares tapped on the side of the goblet. "I -- " He finally looked up at her, chewing his lip. "I don't want you to -- to -- leave me."

The subject had come up before, a few months earlier, when he'd tried to get her to go back for one of Odin's golden apples.

"Ares, I..." Her throat clenched with painful tenderness. "I don't -- I can't ..."

He scowled, lowering his eyes again, and said quietly, "If you love me..."

"'If you love me, you'll do it?' I think you just gave a whole new meaning to that line." Done with her meal, she moved the tray aside and he waved his hand at it, sending it away. She slid over to him and touched his face. "I can't become a goddess, Ares ... I wouldn't be me anymore."

He pulled her into a frenzied kiss, as if it were their last, and then abruptly pushed her off.

"Do you know what that means for me, Xena? Imagine if you loved a man and -- you waited for years -- and then you were finally together -- and you found out that he would die in a week. That's what the rest of your life is to me when I've got eternity before me..."

"They say that we all come back," she said slowly.

"So I'm supposed to spend eternity tracking you down when you are reborn, and praying to who knows what powers that I can bring back your memories of ... us." He fell silent, reaching up toward her but not quite touching her.

"Ares." She ran her fingers through the dark soft hair on his chest. "I'm not dying yet... can't we just, for now -- make the best of it?"

There was another silence, and then he asked, "Do you love me?"

She had never said it to him. Now, she opened her mouth -- but ... Maybe she didn't love him. Or maybe saying it would be a final surrender, a surrender that she couldn't allow herself with the God of War. She could still fall back on flippancy; in that, they were alike.

"I sleep with you, don't I?" She gave him a lopsided little grin and kissed him. He moved to embrace her, his breath quickening, but she held his arms down.

"No," she whispered, "let me pleasure you."

With a sigh, Ares lay back. Xena circled her tongue around a hardening nipple and teased it with gentle bites, rolling the other one between her fingers before she moved her mouth over it. As always, she savored the slightly tangy taste of him, the heat of skin, his response to her -- soon, he was gasping and lifting his hips, trying to rub against her -- but this time some part of her remained aloof from her senses, still too mindful of the conversation they'd just had, and of the one she had been putting off.

Slowly, she kissed her way down his chest and his flat belly, and then pressed her lips to the moist tip of his cock. As he cried out hoarsely, Xena wondered if he had other women. She realized that she didn't like to imagine anyone else seeing him like this, so out of control, so lost to pleasure ... so beautiful. Did that mean she really ... ?

Brushing the thought aside, she bent her head down, flicking her tongue along his shaft a few times before taking him in her mouth. She hoped that by now she had gotten his mind off the subject of her mortality; but then he murmured, running his hand through her hair, "Xena... I don't want to lose you... ever..."

That painful tenderness was tugging at her again, tightening inside her chest. At least this time, she didn't have to say anything -- and at least, in the next few minutes, Ares wasn't very articulate.

Afterwards, Xena slid up and lay in his arms for a while, both of them silent. Finally, she disengaged herself and sat near the edge of the bed, wrapping herself in a crimson sheet, hugging her knees.

"Ares... You have to promise me something."

"What?"

"Leave Gabrielle alone. Flowers won't do it next time."

"I'm not doing anything to Gabrielle and you know it."

"You tried to recruit her before."

The God of War rolled his eyes. "Don't you know that was mostly to get to you?" He paused and added, "Though I have to admit, the Battling Bard has surpassed my expectations."

"Ares." Her voice was as chilly and hard as the look in her eyes. "She doesn't belong to you."

"She doesn't serve me directly. But she's a warrior, Xena."

And it's killing you inside... Xena shivered and wrapped the sheet tighter around herself, lowering her eyes.

"She wasn't meant for this," she said, speaking more to herself than to Ares. "She wasn't meant to -- to kill..."

He sat up.

"Well, if you're looking for someone to blame, don't look at me."

"You mean it's my fault," she said in a small, hollow voice -- suddenly scared, not defiant. "I turned her into a killer."

He shrugged. "You pulled her into your world."

"I tried to protect her..."

"Did you really?" There was a faint touch of sarcasm in his tone. "You were too stubborn to accept my help when she went up against Bellerophon's army."

It was true, Xena thought. She closed her eyes, gripped by a quiet panic, as if something horrible were creeping up on her and she couldn't get away. Gabrielle was the purest thing in her life, the friend who was always there, the soulmate who had helped her stay the course as she sought atonement for her dark past -- and, by and by, her own darkness had caught up with Gabrielle.

She felt Ares' fingers brush her face, and put her hand over his.

"Take me back," she said. "Please." She noticed his nervous look and moved closer to kiss him. "I'll see you soon, Ares. I just ... need to go back right now."

* ~ * ~ *

"You know the funny thing about being high up in the mountains like this?"

"Hmm ..." Xena grinned wryly. "The way down is as much of a pain in the ass as the way up?'

The women had been riding at a slow trot along a mountain path since dawn. The sun stood high in the bright cloudless sky, glittering in the treetops on the mountainside, flooding the valley below.

"Everything is so small from up here. The trees, the houses ... they look like I could just pick them up and put them in my saddlebag..."

"You're such a pack rat."

"And when you see people, they're like tiny dolls in a toy box ... but there they are, going about their lives."

"That sounds like the start of a new scroll." Xena glanced at Gabrielle, warmth twinkling in her eyes.

"Maybe." Gabrielle laughed. "Just think, the people down there won't even know they inspired a scroll."

"Well, maybe some of them will read it," Xena said.

"Hey -- maybe even you will."

A new scroll... Gabrielle remembered how she had tried to write down the story of their battle with Bellerophon, only to find that she couldn't finish it. She didn't feel like laughing anymore.

They rode on in silence. A few minutes later, Xena brought Argo to an abrupt halt and signaled to Gabrielle to stop.

"Gabrielle -- do you hear that?"

"Um ... maybe," said Gabrielle. "If you tell me what it is I'm supposed to hear."

"I think some little soldiers in that toy box are having a fight."

Xena's face was drawn into a mask of intense focus.

Gabrielle listened, but all she could hear was the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze.

"You think that's Cylon's and Prusias' army down there?"

"Could be." Xena released the reins and gave Argo a light kick. "Come on, let's go a little further."

More than two months since leaving Amazon lands, Xena and Gabrielle were on their latest mission in Thessaly, not far from the Peneus river. Two powerful warlords, Cylon and Prusias, were rumored to have joined forces in the region; they needed to figure out what the warlords were up to, and just how urgent it was to stop them.

Now Gabrielle heard the sounds too, coming from below -- still distant, but indeed the unmistakable noise of a battle: the shrill whinnying of horses, the grunts and shouts of men, the clanging of swords and spears and shields. And then, looking down, she saw the two armies battling face to face. From this height, they did look almost like toy soldiers, except that they swarmed and clashed with a fury that was all too real.

"All right," Xena whispered. "Let's move lower so we can get a better view."

Slowly, cautiously, they made their way down a winding path through the evergreens. Xena pointed silently to a ledge that made a good viewing spot, close enough to see the faces of the combatants.

"Over there." Gabrielle pointed to a stocky, broad-shouldered, red-bearded man galloping through the battlefield and waving his sword, his face distorted with rage. "That looks like Prusias. Didn't they say he has a shield with a golden dragon on it?" She covered her eyes from the sun, peering down, and then gave her companion a puzzled glance. "Xena, do you think they're fighting each other?"

"No," Xena said. "Take a good look, Gabrielle. One of these armies isn't just a warlord's army. The uniforms."

Everywhere on the battlefield, men in a motley assortment of outfits were fighting soldiers in crimson and gold. Turning back to Xena, Gabrielle was startled by the expression on her face: her jaw rigid, her lips pressed to a thin line, her eyes veiled. She looked bitter and resigned, as though she had just seen something she had both dreaded and expected.

"Xena... what is it?"

"Alcibiades."

She spat out the name, making it sound like some particularly offensive curse.

Gabrielle gasped. "The army of Ares!"

Xena tossed her head, as if trying to shake off unwanted thoughts.

"Well, now we know one thing -- why Prusias and Cylon pooled their armies," she said. "They'd heard that Alcibiades was headed here. I bet they're trying to stop him from reaching the river crossing."

"Is that really Alcibiades' army? It doesn't look very large."

"He probably didn't think he'd need his full forces to take the valley."

Gabrielle shivered, struck by another thought. "Xena -- do you think he's here?"

The Warrior Princess gave her a chilly look. "If he is, he's not close enough for me to sense him. And anyway" -- she chuckled unhappily -- "if he's here, he won't even notice me ... us."

They looked down again. Whether it was Ares' favor or superior skill, the luck of the battle clearly seemed to be with Alcibiades' men, who were pushing the warlords' army further and further back. Then, Gabrielle noticed some strange movement in the grove on the other side of the battlefield, and gave Xena a quick nudge; but Xena had seen it, too. The lush greenery quivered and billowed, and dozens -- no, hundreds of warriors streamed out and charged the flank of Alcibiades' army, like a dark wedge slashing into a crimson and gold spread. Taken by surprise, seeing their comrades fall next to them, the soldiers on that flank were visibly panicking -- and finally, some of them faltered and ran, getting others caught up in the stampede. Cylon's and Prusias' men, who had been obviously waiting for the ambush, took advantage of the moment to throw themselves into the fight with renewed vigor and push back Alcibiades' troops.

"There he is," Xena said quietly, putting a hand on Gabrielle's arm. For a second, Gabrielle thought she meant Ares, but Xena pointed toward a tall blond warrior in gleaming armor, with a plumed helmet -- Alcibiades, of course, trying to steady his horse and control his troops at the same time. The warlords continued their charge. About a minute later, confusion all around him, Alcibiades grabbed a crossbow from his saddle and shot an arrow in the air. It flew high, trailing two long ribbons attached to its shaft -- one black, one scarlet.

"A signal to retreat?" Gabrielle wondered aloud.

Seconds later, she felt Xena's grip tighten on her arm, and heard her sharp intake of breath. One of the fleeing soldiers swayed and fell, clutching his side; then the one next to him went down, and still another. The arrows that struck them down came from a group of crimson-and-gold-clad archers on horseback at the top of a hillock. Gabrielle watched as they took aim and shot again; it took nearly a half-minute before the full meaning of what was happening sank in and she felt cold, then numb. "His own men..." she whispered. "He's ordered his archers to shoot his own men if they run..."

An absurd thought flashed dimly through her mind: If only it wasn't so sunny. The sun had no business shining on such things. A day like this had no business being so beautiful.

The retreat had come to an abrupt halt, some soldiers tumbling down when those further behind failed to stop quickly enough and slammed into the ones in front. There was another hail of arrows, deliberately aimed, it seemed, to fall just short of their target -- not injuring anyone this time but flying close enough to make a point. With no way out, the men were turning around, perhaps preferring to die at the enemy's hands than to be killed by their own.

Gabrielle finally took a deep breath and looked at her friend. Xena's face was full of such pure revulsion and fury that it troubled the bard almost as much as the scene unfolding below.

"Let's go, Gabrielle," she said in a quietly seething voice.

The momentum of the battle seemed to be shifting back in Alcibiades' favor; his warriors, whether driven by loyalty or desperation or both, were on the offensive again. But Xena clearly had no intention of staying to watch this through to the end.

As the women got back to the path and resumed their journey, they could still hear the fading sounds of the fighting below.

By sundown, when they arrived in the town of Perati down in the valley, the battle was the talk of the streets and the inn. Alcibiades had carried the day after all, though not without heavy losses. Prusias was dead and Cylon had bought his life by agreeing to serve Alcibiades, as did the warlords' surviving men. The victorious army had made camp less than two miles away from the town.

* ~ * ~ *

"Do you want to move on?" Gabrielle asked, sipping her cider.

"Huh?" Lost in thought, Xena had barely touched the rather bony half of a roasted chicken she had ordered for lunch.

"I was thinking there's no real reason for us to stay here. I mean ... nothing left to find out about Prusias and Cylon, right? Unless, of course, you consider the food around here a major attraction." She dipped a piece of bread in the greasy stew and took a bite.

"No," Xena said. "I consider Alcibiades a major attraction." She caught Gabrielle's scandalized look and chuckled. "Not like that, Gabrielle. Let's hang around for a day or two."

Her tone made Gabrielle wonder if she had a plan of some sort. She was about to ask, when the doors groaned and clattered, and a group of men in crimson and gold uniforms walked in.

The hum of conversation in the dining room died almost immediately as everyone -- the middle-aged mom-and-pop innkeepers, the patrons, the serving girls -- turned to look at them. Even in the half-darkness, Gabrielle could tell that these victorious warriors were not in a mood to celebrate; their faces were either expressionless or grim, and one, a russet-haired young man with a line of caked blood across the bridge of his nose, looked both absent and dejected.

"Any decent food in this establishment?" one soldier asked gruffly.

"And wine. The strongest you got," added another.

The mistress of the inn waddled toward them and hurriedly led them to a corner table. As they sat down noisily, eyes turned away and the ordinary sounds of the inn picked up again.

The two women resumed their meal without saying another word. Xena's face was blank, her body visibly tense.

"Dammit!" The voice from the corner table rose above the general din, causing another awkward if brief silence -- broken by a crash that sounded like a mug being slammed down. Gabrielle turned furtively and saw that the speaker was the russet-haired soldier whose downcast look she had noticed before. "I can't believe he's gonna do this!"

The others spoke to him quietly, evidently telling him to pipe down. Xena and Gabrielle looked at each other; then, the Warrior Princess slowly rose and walked to the soldiers' table. Gabrielle followed, suspecting this wasn't going to be friendly.

"Hey." Xena stood behind the man who had raised his voice. He turned and looked at her indifferently. He was no more than twenty, and seeing him up close, Gabrielle was struck by the misery in his face and his eyes.

"What do you want?"

"What is Alcibiades going to do?" Xena asked.

He turned away and gulped down some ale.

"Come on," she said gently. "Tell me. What's going on?"

"Get lost, lady," said another soldier, a strapping man with dark, greasy curly hair. "Curiosity killed the cat."

"Yeah, well, I've got nine lives," she drawled, her lip curved in a well-practiced sneer. "Besides, stubbornness killed the ass."

The man rose, leaning on his brawny arms, and glowered at her.

"Who do you think you are, bitch?"

In the silence that fell over the dining room, somebody's spoon clanged jarringly on the side of a bowl.

"Someone who doesn't like her time wasted," Xena snapped. (Here we go, thought Gabrielle.) In the flash of a second, her hands flew up, and the man was wheezing and clutching convulsively at his throat.

"I've just cut off the flow of blood to your brain -- if you've got one. You'll be dead in thirty seconds unless you tell me -- "

"He's going to have my brother beheaded," the younger man blurted out.

Xena whipped around, her eyes boring into him. Then, she turned back and jammed her fingers into the other soldier's neck. He took frantic, shuddering breaths, glancing at her with a mix of fear and hate and rubbing his throat.

"Whoever you are, you got some nerve," said another one of their comrades, starting to rise from the bench. The man next to him, somewhat older than the rest, grabbed his arm and nodded toward the chakram on Xena's hip.

"Man, that's Xena," he said in a half-whisper.

"Who?"

"Xena, the Warrior Princess, you dolt."

Xena ignored the men's stares -- awestruck, hostile, or both -- and spoke to the young soldier.

"What did your brother do?"

He turned away, pursing his lips. Gabrielle took a step toward him and touched his shoulder. He flinched and looked up.

"Maybe we could help," she said. "What's your name?"

"Dion... My brother's Melesias." He took another gulp from his ale mug and sighed. "In the battle we fought yesterday, there were some men who ran..." His voice trembled and broke off.

"Three of them are to be executed, as an example to the others," cut in the older man who had recognized Xena. "Tomorrow at noon."

"He didn't even run," Dion said in a hoarse whisper. "I saw it. I swear..."

"That's Alcibiades," grunted the man Xena had put the pinch on, his voice still raspy. "Off with your head first, ask questions later. Can't expect him to bother with the details."

Xena was already striding toward the door. Gabrielle nodded to the soldiers and dashed after her.

"Xena -- ?"

She turned around, her face hard with determination.

"Wait for me back here, Gabrielle. There's something I need to do." She took another step toward the door, then stopped and looked at the stunned proprietor. "Does this town have a temple of Ares?"

* ~ * ~ *

The temple, on the edge of town, turned out to be a small, neglected shrine -- crumbling steps, cobwebs in the low doorway, thick dust everywhere, dry leaves and bits of plaster and ceramic strewn all over the floor and the altar. As she breathed in the musty air and felt the dankness seeping into her bones, Xena wondered if the worship of Ares had never been a big deal around here, or had never recovered after his too-widely known bout with mortality.

She stood with her back to the altar and leaned back on it, gripping the cold edges.

"Ares," she said.

She waited a couple of minutes and called out again, louder, "Ares, I need to see you."

Blue light flashed in a corner and Ares stepped out, casting a fastidious look around.

"You know, this is almost as bad as your old farmhouse," he said. "At least now I can fix it up a little."

He waved an arm. Instantly, the dust and debris were gone, the altar was draped in scarlet velvet with two silver goblets standing on it, the oil lamps and candles came to life, and the dank chill was gone from the air.

"I'm impressed," said Xena, looking unimpressed. "I had no idea you were so good at housekeeping."

"I'm glad I can still surprise you." The War God sauntered up to her and brushed her cheek with his knuckles, reaching over to pick up one of the goblets.

"I'll say."

He froze for a moment and gave her a wary look.

"What now?"

"Your special warrior, Ares. The commander of your favored army. A man who orders his archers to shoot his own soldiers if they start to retreat."

Ares pressed his lips together, scowling, then took a sip of wine and swirled it in his mouth.

"And now," she continued, "he's going to behead three men because they ran under a surprise attack. Or maybe they didn't even run but some of their comrades did, so he's going to use them as an example."

"They're warriors, Xena. Warriors die."

"On the battlefield -- not on the chopping block like criminals ... like cattle." She put her hands on his shoulders, forcing him to look her in the face. "You've been mortal, Ares. You ever wondered what it's like, to wait for your execution? Suppose those warlords had gotten their hands on you back then." His eyes flickered; she was getting to him all right. "Knowing that if it's cloudy the next morning, you'll never see the sun come up again. Knowing that in a few hours you'll be on your knees, tied up like a hog, and the last thing you'll ever see in this world is your executioner's boots. Praying to the gods that his hand is steady and he does the job in one stroke -- "

He jerked his head. "What do you want me to do?"

"Curb your bloodhound," she said quietly and firmly, stepping back. "He's gone too far."

He lowered his eyes, then looked up again, having regained his chilly composure. He touched her chin with the tip of a finger.

"You're breaking the rules."

"What?"

"When you don't like something I'm doing, you're supposed to stop me, Warrior Princess. Not ask me to stop."

"You want me to take on Alcibiades," she whispered. Suddenly, the suspicion was nagging at her, like an annoying buzz she couldn't shut out, making her head spin for a moment. "Is that what you're up to, Ares? You're setting me up to fight your best man?"

The slight mockery in his face gave way to a flash of annoyance, and then he stared at her heavily, pursing his lips.

"Xena. I swear, I'm not setting up anything. I just can't help you."

"You mean you won't," she said bitterly.

"I mean I can't," he snapped, his voice rising. "I gave Alcibiades my word. He likes doing things his own way, and I promised I would not interfere with his decisions -- as long as he keeps winning. The only thing I can do is replace him."

"With whom?"

"With a challenger who beats him in single combat," Ares said, his eyes fixed on her. "And takes over his army."

He caught her mute stare and gripped her hands. "Xena, I won't lie to you. I would get a huge kick out of seeing you fight Alcibiades. But" -- he enunciated each word as if speaking in an unfamiliar language -- "I did not set this up."

She looked at him probingly. Once, it would have been just like him to engineer this kind of scheme, to lure into serving as his Warrior Queen by convincing her it was for a good cause. But maybe, even in the old days, he would not have lied to her quite so brazenly. And after everything that had happened between them ... Even that time when his games with the Amazons nearly cost her daughter's life, he made no attempt to use Eve's plight to manipulate her, Xena -- and somehow, she had instantly believed his assurances that he hadn't meant to get Eve involved. If she could take his word for it then, surely she could trust him now.

"All right," she said softly.

He sighed and drew her closer, his eyes half-veiled, his lips opening for the kiss.

"Not here, Ares." She gently extricated herself from his arms. "And not now. I need to get ready for the fight."

* ~ * ~ *

The tall woman warrior rode into Alcibiades' camp with the blazing sky as her orange and crimson backdrop, the gold of the dying sunlight glittering in her black hair.  The soldiers who were outside, busily going about their tasks -- sharpening weapons, polishing armor, eating, cooking, cleaning pots and pans -- or killing time with songs, bawdy stories and gaming, dropped whatever they were doing and gaped at her. For much of the day, the camp had been abuzz with rumors that the Warrior Princess was in the area, and hushed murmurs of "Xena... Xena..." quickly made the rounds. More men scurried out of the tents to take a look at the woman on the golden mare who rode past them, seemingly oblivious to the stares and the whispers.

Magnificent.

Invisible to mortal eyes, the God of War stood in the middle of the camp and watched, excitement surging to his throat. As always in her moments of glory, he felt intoxicating pride and admiration mixed with desire -- not slaked but magnified by the knowledge that every inch of skin under that leather and armor had been caressed by his hands and his mouth. But this time, it was different: In a few hours, Xena would be at the head of his army. That she might lose to Alcibiades barely entered his mind.

The irony of it. All the things he had done to make her join him as his Warrior Queen... He scowled slightly at the thought of those things, which gave him a very un-godlike queasy feeling -- dammit, he had been only doing his job! -- and forced it away. Anyway ... this time, he hadn't done anything to get her to take over his army, and here she was, about to do it of her own free will.

He wondered suddenly if that was true. No, he didn't lie to her when he told her he hadn't set it up. But maybe thoughts of Xena had lurked somewhere in his head when he gave Alcibiades his terms: the Macedonian could have his favor and his loyal troops and the freedom to act as he pleased -- as long as he agreed that at any time, Ares could order him to fight a challenger, and to cede leadership of his army if he was beaten. If not Xena, who?

Well, so what if he had vaguely considered it. Surely it was all for the best. She was about to fulfil her destiny, to become the warrior she was meant to be: not a warlord but a true leader, building a united force out of the scattered armies of Greece -- a force capable of standing up to and taking on the Romans. She herself agreed it was a worthwhile goal. (And she'd do it without hurting and killing any more people than she had to -- he might as well admit that it mattered to him now.) Everything was going to be all right. And the tiny knot of unease coiled somewhere inside his chest ... that was just another of those incomprehensible mortal emotions that didn't mean a thing.

Xena dismounted outside Alcibiades' tent, decorated in the crimson and gold colors of his army. Sensing Ares' presence, she flinched almost imperceptibly; he was tempted to reach over and touch her, but then decided that he shouldn't disrupt her focus. Just to watch was thrilling enough.

"I need to see Alcibiades," she said to the guard outside, turning her trademark steely gaze on him.

The man swallowed.

"M... my lord Alcibiades said he didn't want to be disturbed, ma'am."

"Well, that's just too bad," Xena said evenly. "I'm here to disturb him."

The guard cleared his throat, evidently trying to decide if he was more scared of his commander or of this lone woman in the midst of an army camp.

"And you are -- ?"

"Xena, the Warrior Princess."

The soldier fidgeted for a moment, then gingerly lifted the flap of the tent and said shakily, "M-m-my lord?"

Curious to see his protégé's reaction, Ares took himself inside the tent, whose interior seemed almost too luxurious for a warrior: plush Persian rugs, a mahogany table with an inlaid mother-of-pearl ornamental pattern that sparkled gently in the yellowish light of the oil lamps, bejeweled goblets and bowls. The sight of Alcibiades' latest war trophy on display -- Prusias' shield mounted on a pole, still spattered with dark dried blood -- was almost jarring in the midst of such soft opulence.

Alcibiades, reclining on a heap of pillows, lifted his eyes from the scroll in his hand; oddly, he looked as if the intrusion weren't entirely unexpected.

After a moment, he asked in a chilly voice, "Are you deaf or disobedient?"

"B-b-beg pardon, m'lord," stammered the soldier. "Xena, the Warrior Princess, wishes to see you."

Alcibiades' eyes flashed, and he sat up in a swift, alert motion; judging from his lack of surprise, he had heard that Xena was nearby. He cast a quick look about and picked up several more scrolls scattered in front of him. To Ares' mild astonishment, they turned out to be Gabrielle's tales of the Warrior Princess. Well, well, well -- Alcibiades was smart indeed, getting to know the enemy even before he could be sure that she was the enemy ... though, of course, he still had to go. The scrolls reminded Ares of the bard, and he wondered fleetingly how she had reacted to Xena's decision.

Alcibiades put the scrolls in a carved wooden box, then rose and put on his sword belt. Even without armor, he cut an imposing figure in his dark crimson leathers. He smoothed his blond wavy hair and stroked his beard, as if trying to think if there was anything else he needed to be ready for his visitor.

"Send her in!" he called out.

Xena entered the tent and stopped. For about a minute, she and Alcibiades stood silently, eyeing each other. Then, the Macedonian's thin lips curved into a half-smile.

"Xena of Amphipolis," he said, with a hint of a sneer in his voice. "The legendary Warrior Princess."

"Alcibiades of Macedonia," Xena replied, mimicking his tone. "Ares' favorite commander."

"You know," he said, scrutinizing her so brazenly that Ares felt like frying him on the spot, "it is an honor. One hears so many rumors about the Warrior Princess, one never quite knows what to believe. First, it was that you were dead ..."

"Greatly exaggerated."

"Then, it was that you killed the Olympian gods. " Her face remained inscrutable. "And that you were the mother of the infamous Livia, who -- "

"Are you planning to write my biography?" she asked in a suave voice.

Alcibiades glared at her, and then broke into a fake hearty laugh.

"Well, I see that one rumor was true: you are as good with words as you are with weapons. Which makes you interesting company." With a broad sweep of his hand, he indicated a bench. "Would you care to sit? Some wine, perhaps?"

"Thanks," she said. "I don't drink on the job."

"What's the job?" he asked.

She smiled enigmatically.

"Actually, it's your job I'm here to discuss."

After a pause, he said, "Go on."

"Tell me something, Alcibiades. You sentenced three men to die for running in yesterday's battle." She looked down. "I won't question your right to do that ... but are you sure they are guilty as charged?"

"You mean, did I have a scribe standing in the middle of a battlefield taking down the names of those who were running? No."

"And how did you happen to pick those particular three?"

"My senior men brought them in. That's all the evidence I need."

Xena steadily met his smug stare.

"Tell me, Alcibiades -- if you punish the guilty and innocent alike, how does that stop a soldier from running? Right now, he knows he could end up getting shortened by a few inches whether he does anything wrong or not."

"Maybe he'll make sure that the men next to him don't run," Alcibiades parried calmly. "Or don't stay on their feet very long if they do."

Xena shook her head, and at least for a moment sadness shadowed her eyes. "Don't you think that to be a truly great leader, you need to inspire loyalty as well as fear?"

"But I do inspire loyalty, Xena," Alcibiades said. "You see, the men who are sentenced to die aren't terribly popular with the others. One's a know-it-all and a show-off who's had a bit too much learning for a common soldier, another's a whiner, and the third's a smart-aleck who likes to do things his own way. Why do you think the other men pointed the finger at them? Because they can't stand them. You might say I'm following the will of the majority where it really counts."

Arms folded on his chest, he looked expectantly at Xena. Her face showed no emotion.

"About your job, Alcibiades..."

"What about it?"

"I know about your deal with Ares. You don't take orders from him, but he can replace you with a successful challenger."

"And you're the challenger." He nodded, unsurprised.

There was a brief silence. Then, Alcibiades said, "Tell me, Xena, is it true that years ago, Ares framed you for murder to force you to lead his army?" She lowered her eyes, her cheek twitching almost imperceptibly. "And that later, he had the Furies drive you mad and tried to make you kill your own mother, all to get you to join him?"

Ares felt torn between the desire to rip Alcibiades' head from his shoulders and a grudging admiration for his cleverness.

"And now," Alcibiades continued, smirking, "you want to fight me and take over the army of Ares ... because you care so much about three soon-to-be-dead losers you've never met?"

"I'm curious, Alcibiades. Is it part of your deal with Ares that the challenger must give you a full accounting of the reasons for her challenge?"

"Certainly not. I merely wanted to point out that you may be walking straight into Ares' trap."

"I've walked straight out of his traps before," she replied with a small catlike smile, and Ares knew it was for his benefit. "But I do appreciate your concern."

"Very well, then." Alcibiades straightened out his shoulders, throwing his head back a little and jutting out his chin. "I can't say I'm not looking forward to some action with the Warrior Princess." (This time, Ares was barely able to keep from making an appearance and knocking the leer off his face.) "So, when and where is our date? Here at the camp? Shall we put on a good show for my men?"

Xena looked at him thoughtfully.

"Do any of your officers know of your agreement with Ares?"

"Only my second-in-command, Phaleron. Warrior priest to the God of War."

"He'll be our witness, then," Xena said. "About two miles east of here, over the hills, there are three great oaks by the riverside. I'll see you there at sunrise tomorrow."

* ~ * ~ *

The clouds covering the sky were turning from black to a soft grey, but there wasn't enough daylight to even peek through the tiny window in the room at the inn, weakly lit by a sputtering oil lamp. Xena sat on the bed, unhurriedly putting on her boots and then her gauntlets. Her face was perfectly emotionless; of course, she knew he was there, and she knew that he knew it -- but she was not going to acknowledge it just as he was not going to make himself visible, no matter how much he longed to kiss her, to run his fingers through her hair. Ares wanted to tell her how proud she made him, but something about that felt wrong. He thought of telling her, again, that he hadn't set this up and that she didn't have to do anything she didn't want to do; but that would have been protesting too much. Eventually, he gave up on trying to make sense of the emotions bustling inside him, and just watched her.

The door squeaked open and a rather haggard-looking Gabrielle shuffled in, wearing a nightshirt and carrying a steaming mug that gave off the sweet scent of apple cider. With a wan smile, she handed the mug to Xena; the Warrior Princess took it, giving her companion's hand a light squeeze, and the corner of her mouth curled up as she almost smiled back.

Xena drank her cider in long gulps, occasionally pausing for breath, and put the mug down.

"I'm ready, Gabrielle."

She picked up her sword, slowly ran a finger along its newly-sharpened edge, and put it away in the scabbard as she rose from the bed.

"Please let me come along," Gabrielle said.

"No." Xena shook her head. "I challenged him. You know I have to do this one on my own."

With a sigh, Gabrielle helped buckle her armor, and then the two women stood looking at each other, one face drawn and anxious, the other dangerously calm. They embraced rather stiffly, Xena stooping at an awkward angle, her cheek resting against Gabrielle's for a few brief moments.

"Good luck," Gabrielle said in a stifled voice.

Xena ran a hand over her short hair.

"You'll be okay -- right?"

The Amazon bard nodded.

"I know you'll always do the right thing, Xena." The look in her eyes said that she wasn't so sure, even as she smiled bravely.

Xena turned around and walked out of the room.

* ~ * ~ *

When the Warrior Princess arrived at the three oaks, Alcibiades and Phaleron -- a tall, dark-haired man with a curly goatee who would have looked imposing next to almost anyone else but Alcibiades -- were already waiting for her under the bloated gray sky.

"Xena," Alcibiades drawled suavely, in a tone that managed to be transparently insulting while remaining overtly polite, even reverent. "It is good to see you again so soon."

"The pleasure's all mine."

"An honor to meet you, Xena," Phaleron said coldly but respectfully, with a slight bow of the head. She turned to him.

"You must be Phaleron."

"I am Phaleron, yes."

"Warrior priest to Ares."

"It is my honor to serve the God of War," he said, his impassive eyes flickering for a moment.

"And you know of the agreement between Alcibiades and Ares. A warrior, with Ares' approval, can issue a challenge to Alcibiades. If the challenger wins, Alcibiades relinquishes command of his army."

"I know the terms. As second-in-command to Alcibiades and priest to Ares, I am here to witness the contest."

The air under the oaks shimmered, and there was a whooshing sound that all three warriors knew well.

"I'll witness it myself," Ares said.

Dismounting hastily, Phaleron knelt before him.

"My Lord Ares -- "

"Get up, get up -- we can dispense with the formalities." Ares waved brusquely, and Phaleron rose to his feet. "Before we get started, let me make one thing clear. This is a fight to the victory, not to the death. Got that?"

Xena looked down, unable to suppress a smile, while Alcibiades stared at his patron god with an impudent sparkle in his pale grey eyes.

"Ares, I am touched by your concern for my welfare. Assuming, of course, that it's my welfare you're concerned about."

Phaleron shot him a rather nasty look.

"I'm not in the habit of letting great warriors die a pointless death," Ares said evenly. "Now, let's get this show on the road."

The contestants dismounted and took their positions.

The murmur of the oak leaves died down for a moment, as if the wind itself were holding its breath.

"Go."

The clash of swords exploded even before the word had left Ares' lips.

The Warrior Princess and the leader of Ares' army were well-matched; what advantage he had in size and muscle was offset by her speed and agility. After a few minutes, when both were already bleeding from nicks on the arms, Alcibiades delivered a powerful kick that made Xena stagger; a second kick sent her flying, and she landed flat on her back. He leaped toward her, ready to strike or to hold her at the point of his sword -- but just as he reached her, she rolled over and sprang to her feet, in time to parry his blow.

Alcibiades snarled in frustration, swinging at Xena again. This moment of blind rage was enough to give her an opening. A shrill, ululating "A-yi-yi-yi-yi" sliced through the air, startling her opponent enough to keep him from collecting himself. She spun around and kicked, knocking the sword out of his hand and up into the air, then leaped high to catch it and flung it so far that he had no chance of retrieving it without going through her first. Alcibiades snatched a long dagger from his belt, but as Xena advanced on him, all he could do was avoid the weave of her sword -- until his back was up against one of the oaks, the tip of her blade pointed at his throat.

"I don't think you want to do anything with that little weapon of yours, Alcibiades," she said, her voice twinkling with mockery. Breathing hard, the Macedonian looked back and forth from her to Ares, and then let the dagger fall. "Good boy. Now, I think this is your cue to give up."

Alcibiades glowered at her, biting his lip, and finally lowered his eyes. Then, his hands jerked upward toward Xena's sword -- but before he could grab it, his legs were kicked out from under him and he went down hard, even as a blow to the head with the flat side of her blade nearly knocked him out. He sprawled on the ground blinking dizzily, the point of the sword at his neck once again.

Ares clapped his hands. He remained outwardly dispassionate, with only a faint flicker of emotion -- pride and adoration and perhaps a shadow of uncertainty -- crossing his face.

"Phaleron," he said. "Salute your new leader."

The warrior priest dropped to one knee and pressed a hand to his chest.

"Xena of Amphipolis, I shall be proud to serve under your command."

"Good for you." Xena took a deep breath as she sheathed her sword. For a moment, her eyes met Ares'; then she looked back to Phaleron, who had risen to his feet. "Are you ready to take some orders now?"

"Yes, my lady." He wasn't quite able to hide his surprise.

"Very well, then. The three men who are sentenced to die at noon today are pardoned. When you return to the camp, you are to release them, give them whatever pay they are owed, and let them go home."

"Yes, my lady. Anything else?"

"From now on, no peaceful villagers or townsmen will be forcibly recruited into this army. Back at camp, you will put that down on a parchment and seal it." She gestured toward the silver ring on Phaleron's hand bearing Ares' emblem, a skull and a sword. "And keep the wording simple."

"Yes, my lady."

"And one more thing."

"Yes?"

"After you've carried out those orders, I give command of this army back to Alcibiades of Macedonia."

Both Phaleron and Alcibiades, who was sitting up by now, gasped audibly. Ares gaped at Xena, his mouth hanging open in a manner most unbecoming a god. She turned to him.

"This is within my rights, isn't it?"

"Yes, I -- I suppose so," he said, shaking his head. "Yes, it is. But -- "

"Then I think that will be all."

Ignoring the stunned stares that followed her, she went to untie her horse and got in the saddle.

"A pleasure meeting you, Phaleron," she said. "Oh, and Alcibiades?" She squinted at her defeated adversary, smirking a little. "You'd better behave yourself, or I just might rescind that last order."

* ~ * ~ *

On the road back to town, Argo stopped abruptly and reared up, and Ares flared into visibility a second later.

"You are something else," he said.

She gave him a smile -- a little smug but also sensuous and dreamy, ultimately intended more for her lover than for the God of War.

"I'm glad I can still surprise you."

"Always." He paused, stroking her thigh. "But you know, Alcibiades could have some nasty surprises in store for you. How can you be so sure that you've won?"

"Maybe I can't be," she said, suddenly serious. "But I won't lead your army unless I have no other choice, Ares. Right now, I still had a choice."

He nodded.

"So after all this time, you still feel you have to trick me."

She darted a quick look at him, sensing the bitterness underneath the playful tone.

"If I had told you what I planned to do, would you have gone along with it?"

Ares eyeballed her silently, then shrugged.

"I don't know."

"Well, there you go," she said softly, putting her hand on top on his.

In the next moment, he was in the saddle behind Xena, his arms wrapped around her. Argo whinnied nervously.

"So," he murmured huskily into her ear, "shall we go somewhere to celebrate your victory? Unless you're in the mood for some horseplay right here."

She laughed, almost instinctively leaning into him.

"Not now, Ares." She shivered as his fingertips brushed her neck.

"What's the matter?" He kissed her shoulder, nipping a little at the skin. "Feel like teasing me out of my mind?"

"Umm -- not really." Xena forced herself to open her eyes. "I just need to get back to the inn ... Gabrielle is waiting for me."

"Is she worried?" Ares asked in the same low, sensuous voice, still holding her close.

"About what?"

"You tell me."

"You mean -- worried that I might lose to Alcibiades?"

"No." He took her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. "That you might lose to yourself. To the part of you that loved it when you were in command, even for a few moments. The part of you that didn't want those moments to end."

His soft whisper suddenly seemed to be everywhere, filling the air, enveloping her; she didn't know if he was using his powers to make it seem that way, or her own mind was playing tricks on her. With an effort, she pushed off and turned around to face him, an angry glitter in her eyes.

"What are you trying to do?"

"Me? Nothing." He smiled, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "Just explaining why Gabrielle might be worried."

"She has nothing to worry about," Xena said firmly. "Now, get off my horse."

"What, not even a kiss?"

He gave her a mock wounded look that made her laugh in spite of herself. She leaned toward him and kissed him hard on the mouth, only to pull away almost immediately.

"Go on," she said. Then, when there was nothing left of his presence but a few wisps of blue smoke, she added, "Pick me up at the inn at noon."

When Xena got back to town, the damp grey heaviness of the air had turned to a small drizzle. Riding up to the inn along the muddy street, she spotted Gabrielle sitting on a bench outside, hunched over a scroll in which she was writing. After a few moments, the bard looked up and craned her neck, apparently not for the first time. Seeing Xena, she bolted to her feet. The look on her face was one of joy and, unmistakably, of relief.

* ~ * ~ *

"Are you going to concede that I've won?"

There was a touch of lazy amusement in Ares' voice.

"Not yet."

"Come on, Xena, give it up. You have nowhere to go."

"Oh, I'm -- still pondering a couple of options."

"Stubborn as ever."

"You'd expect nothing less," she said, looking up with smile.

Ares cocked an eye at her.

"Are you sure we're talking about the same thing? This is just a game."

"Isn't everything -- to you?"

"Ow." He leaned back, laughing. "A definite hit."

Xena chuckled and went back to staring at the ivory figurines on the checkered board.

Nearly two months after her fight with Alcibiades, things were back to what passed for normal. She and Gabrielle were still on the road; she and Ares were still having their interludes, though he had largely steered clear of Gabrielle ever since the battle against Bellerophon. Alcibiades, who had kept a low profile for a few weeks following his defeat at the hands of the Warrior Princess, was on the move again; but one no longer heard stories of peasants or artisans being dragged from their homes and threatened with death or slavery unless they joined his troops. Yet somewhere in the back of Xena's mind lodged the suspicion, if not the certainty, that the drama between her and Alcibiades was far from over -- that this was only an intermission, and that along with her, both Ares and Gabrielle were waiting a bit tensely for the next act.

For the moment, at least, things seemed fairly relaxed. She and Ares were spending the evening in his latest idea of a romantic spot -- in the mountains, amidst rocks that gleamed white in the moonlight almost like marble statues of strangely shaped creatures. For extra light, Ares had conjured up a glowing sphere that floated in the air, giving this rock garden even more of a fantastic look.

After a few more minutes, Xena was forced to admit defeat. Ares waved away the game pieces and flicked a finger at the ball of fire, making it dissolve in a burst of orange sparks. Xena lay back on the fur spread and stretched, idly wondering if she wanted to sleep or to make love to Ares again. He put a hand on her stomach and she closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of his touch through her leather tunic. She waited for his hand to move either higher or lower, but he let it rest where it was. Finally, she lifted an eyelid -- and saw something in his face that instantly made her alert.

She sat up.

"What is it, Ares?"

He bit his lower lip and looked away.

"I have some news for you."

"What kind of news?"

"Alcibiades news."

So this was it.

"Spit it out," she said. "What's the bastard done now?" Whatever it was, the guilt would be hers to bear because she had the power to stop him, and did not...

"Nothing yet. But he's gearing up to attack your Amazon friends."

He spoke quietly, but the words reverberated in her head like a scream.

"You mean, Varia's tribe." Her own voices sounded like a stranger's.

"Yes."

"They don't have a chance... not after the battle against Bellerophon." He said nothing, still avoiding her eyes, and then she whispered, "Why?"

Ares shrugged. "The goal is the same as always, Xena. Build up the strongest united army there can be in Greece, and lead it against Rome. He wants the Amazons fighting under his banners. If they won't join him, he'll destroy them." He finally glanced at her. "If you're thinking about your no-forced-recruitment clause, forget it. It only applies to your precious peasants, not warriors."

"I know that," she said tersely, back in control by now.

They sat in silence for a while, the white rocks their mute witnesses. As much as Xena cared about the Amazons, she knew that wasn't why it hurt so inside her chest. Gabrielle would hear about this, and with her sense of duty to her nation, she would inevitably get involved. And it's killing you inside...

"What are his plans?" she asked, businesslike.

"His army is camped near Abdera, waiting for word back from the Amazon council on his offer. His messengers should get back in two days with the answer."

"And the answer is no, of course."

"Right. And as you know, Alcibiades doesn't take no for an answer."

"So once the messengers get back, he starts moving."

"Yes."

She turned to him, her face as chilly as the pale moon overhead.

"Tell me, Ares -- since I've challenged Alcibiades and won, do I have the right to take over his army any time I want?"

He gave her an odd look, as if he didn't quite know whether to be gleeful or sympathetic.

"You do, as far as I'm concerned," he said finally. "Alcibiades, on the other hand, might not agree. Of course, if he makes any trouble for you, I could -- "

"No." She rose abruptly to her feet. "Don't do me any favors, Ares. Just take me back to camp. If I leave tomorrow morning, I'll have time to catch up with him outside Abdera."

"You could stay with me until morning." He looked up at her, his eyes almost pleading.

Xena shook her head.

"Give me a little time, Ares," she said bitterly. "A girl needs to get used to the idea of living as your Warrior Queen."

Ares pursed his lips and stared at her; for a moment, he seemed about to say something. Then he came up behind her, put his hands on her shoulders, and took them into the dizzying swirl of air and light that was nothing new to her by now. When the ground was solid under her feet again, he took her hand, lifted it to his lips and kissed it, and vanished without another word.

Shaking herself to get rid of the effect of his presence, Xena looked to where Gabrielle was asleep in her bedroll. The fire had nearly burned out but its remnants cast a reddish glow on her still form, somehow making her look very young and fragile, almost like a girl lost in the woods.

Everything would be okay, she told herself. She wasn't really joining Ares as his Warrior Queen. She would simply take over Alcibiades' army and lead it against the Romans, and that would be it -- just one campaign. Maybe Ares had a point back when he told her that some day, he could be on the side of something she wanted to fight for. In a year at the most, it would be over, and she would resign her command. The Amazons would be all right ... and so would Gabrielle.

She went over to where she had tied up Argo, got her bedroll and began to spread it near the dying fire. Despite her efforts to be quiet, Gabrielle stirred and muttered sleepily, "Xena... ? You're back....?"

"Yeah." She managed to keep her voice steady. "Go back to sleep, Gabrielle."

* ~ * ~ *

This time, when Xena arrived at Alcibiades' camp, it was inconspicuously and late at night, when most of the men were already sleeping.

The morning after her conversation with Ares, she had told Gabrielle she wanted to head to Abdera to see what Alcibiades was up to. Gabrielle hadn't seemed particularly startled by that, or by Xena's announcement that she had to make a trip to Alcibiades' camp alone. It made Xena queasy, keeping her in the dark like this -- but there was no other choice.

It would just be one campaign. Against Rome.

She had meant to talk to Phaleron first. However, when she told one of the guards on night duty who she was and whose tent she was looking for, the man gave her a nervous glance and said, "My lord Alcibiades wishes to see you."

She lifted an eyebrow. "He knows I'm here?"

The man licked his lips.

"He had to bring you to see him immediately if you turned up at the camp, even if you asked for Phaleron."

Xena frowned; she did not like it when people anticipated her next move.

"All right," she said in a casual tone.

When she was ushered into Alcibiades' tent, the Macedonian rose to greet her. His thin lips were parted slightly in a self-satisfied smile.

"Xena. I figured I'd get your attention."

She gave him the glacial stare that few people, or gods, were able to meet without flinching. His narrow smile broke into a frank sneer.

"To tell you the truth, I don't really give a damn about the pitiful leftovers of the Amazon nation. But I know you do."

The meaning of his words hit her, and she felt the rage burning in her throat. She said nothing, letting him continue.

"Did you think you'd get away with it, Xena?"Alcibiades' voice was rising. "Did you think I'd want to be at the head of an army that I command only by your kind permission?"

"Well, then I have good news for you." Her lip curled in contempt. "My permission is revoked."

He gave a short, edgy laugh that sounded almost like a shriek.

"Oh no, Xena. That won't do. You think you can just walk in here and take my toys away because I've been bad?"

"I fought you and I won," she said evenly.

"Well, you'll have to fight for it again." His hand rested on the hilt of his sword. "Think of it as a rematch. And maybe this time, you won't be so lucky."

"Sorry, Alcibiades. Not in the mood."

"Really? Well, how about this for foreplay?" In a flash, his sword was pointed at her chest.

"You don't want to do this," Xena said, her voice heavy with futility.

"Oh, I do," he scoffed. "You don't want to do this, but you'll have to. Don't even think about getting Phaleron involved. You'll have to go through me to get out of this tent. Unless you want to run to Ares for help."

She stepped back with a sigh and drew her sword.

Alcibiades had evidently instructed the guards outside the tent to stay out no matter what. The clashing of the blades did not bring anyone running; neither did the even louder clatter when he knocked over the mahogany table to clear the space and it smashed into an amphora in the corner, making shards of clay fly and crimson wine spill on the rug that covered the ground. It was the dance she knew so well: parry -- thrust -- block -- spin -- kick. Alcibiades was good, very good, and the confines of the tent left no room for the high-flying leaps that were among Xena's strongest moves -- which, she realized, might have been why he'd backed her into fighting right there on the spot. But she also saw that her opponent hadn't learned from his mistake the last time: he was still overconfident, and when he didn't succeed, still letting anger interfere with his focus.

There were more spins and kicks and thrusts, and more property damage as a tripod with an ornate multicolored glass bowl on it flew and crashed. Then, Xena dove down and flipped over her head, and while Alcibiades was still figuring out what she was doing, she clamped her feet on the blade of his sword. Another flip yanked the weapon out of his hands and flung it away -- and in the next second, she was leaning on her own sword to kick out her legs and slam her boots into his chest.

Alcibiades was down now, blood and sweat trickling down his fine-featured face, eyes glittering with hatred. She saw his hand reach toward his belt and go up; fully in control now, she snatched the dagger as it whizzed toward her.

"Alcibiades." She forced her raspy voice to a gentleness she didn't feel. "Give it up. It's not too late."

He stared at her, panting, seemingly considering her offer. Then, with a speed and grace that surprised her, he rolled over toward his bed in the corner, swept away a heap of pillows, and rose holding a shortsword he had apparently hidden there for the occasion.

Before he could make his move, she swung again.

He stayed on his feet too long as the blood gushed down from his neck with a sickening gurgling sound, swaying a little, his eyes fixed on her. Finally he fell, and the scarlet liquid began to spread, darkening his ash-blond curls, seeping into the rug the spilled wine had stained before.

Xena looked at the dripping sword in her hand, which suddenly felt much too heavy, and then at Alcibiades again. A memory rolled over her, leaving a bitter taste of ashes in her mouth.

"It didn't have to end this way," she whispered, echoing the voice in her head, as she watched the life dimming in his eyes.

She was sure that, had he been able to speak, his last words would have been, "Oh yes, it did."

* ~ * ~ *

When Phaleron arrived, fetched by a guard at Xena's request, he did not seem particularly saddened -- or surprised -- to see Alcibiades dead.

"He was a brave warrior." The priest of Ares shook his head. "But he was rash."

"I didn't want to kill him," Xena said pensively, more to herself than to Phaleron. He glanced at her, his dark eyes momentarily animated.

"When Alcibiades would not cede the army to you, he defied the will of Ares. You did the right thing."

There was clearly no point in arguing with that.

"Would you make arrangements for the funeral?" she asked wearily, before remembering that she was now in a position to issue orders.

"I shall, my lady." He bowed his head.

When the two soldiers who had come in with the warrior priest had picked up Alcibiades' body and taken it away, Phaleron turned to Xena and asked, "Will you be staying here in this tent?"

Stay in this tent, where she could still smell her dead adversary's blood ... sleep on the bedding where he had reclined less than an hour ago? There was a time when she would not have flinched at the suggestion... Xena felt slight nausea rise to her throat, and then she had another feeling, an unfamiliar and uncomfortable one -- a tug of fear that she might have gotten into something she wouldn't be able to handle.

"No," she said quietly.

"Very well," said Phaleron. "I shall have the men put up a new tent for you, though I'm afraid that, on such short notice, it may have to be much too modest."

"That doesn't matter. I won't be staying at camp tonight anyway. "

Phaleron gave her a visibly disapproving look.

"My lady -- ?"

"I'm going back to my lodgings in town," she said. "There's something I need to do." Break Gabrielle's heart.

"All right, but you should ride with an escort -- "

"No," Xena said, turning her icy glare on him. "I'll take care of this on my own, Phaleron."

"As you wish." There was an irritating hint of displeasure in his outwardly deferential tone. It was too much -- too soon.

"Phaleron," she said in a silky voice that bode ill for its recipient. "Remember one thing."

He looked at her expectantly.

"I may serve Ares at the moment, but that doesn't mean I take orders from his priest."

The smugness in the priest's face changed to shock, then deliberate incomprehension, and then sullen resentment.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, my lady. I am at your command."

"Good." She gave him a bright smile. "Then we understand each other. Have that other tent ready when I'm back."

Xena headed toward the exit, and nearly collided with the guard who was lifting the flap of the tent. He blinked at her, a bit dazed, obviously still taking in the news of the change in command.

"My lady -- sorry to disturb you, but there's a young woman who says she has to see you..."

No.

The soldier gave her a curious if nervous look; something of the turmoil she felt must have shown in her face.

"Let her in," she said steadily. "And leave us alone." She glanced at Phaleron to make sure that he knew the last part applied to him, too.

"My lady." Phaleron bowed his head and followed the soldier outside.

Gabrielle walked into the tent.

She stopped. Most of her remained in the shadows, except where the light from an oil lamp fell on a part of her face, making it glow in a golden haze.

"Xena..." she breathed out.

"Gabrielle..."

Suddenly, the bard's voice was strong and almost harsh.

"When were you going to tell me?"

Xena chuckled ruefully.

"I was headed back to the inn just now."

She wasn't sure if the glitter in Gabrielle's eyes was from the shimmering light or from unshed tears.

"Xena ... why?"

"I've thought about it. I think it's the right thing to do."

I know you'll always do the right thing, Xena... Unbidden, those words echoed in her mind -- the words Gabrielle had said to her the morning she went off to her first fight with Alcibiades.

"Leading Ares' army?"

"Against the Roman Empire." There was a catch in her voice that she hoped Gabrielle would take for excitement. "It's a chance to do something for Greece."

"And for the greater good?"

Xena was startled by her bitter, almost caustic tone.

"Yes."

"Are you sure it doesn't have anything to do with this?"

Stepping forward into the light, Gabrielle raised her hand. She was holding a parchment.

"It's a message from Cyane. Delivered this evening, after you had left. Do I need to tell you what it says?"

Xena slowly shook her head.

"Alcibiades..."

"You knew that if he went after the Amazons, I'd have to get involved." She met Xena's mute gaze. "Xena, you can't keep protecting me forever."

"You sound like Eve," Xena blurted out -- and almost gasped as another realization came over her. "I was never able to protect either of you, was I ..."

"Why does it all have to be your responsibility?" Gabrielle said softly. It was almost easier to deal with her bitterness than with this agonized tenderness. "You know you've always done everything for Eve that you could possibly do. As for me ... I don't need your protection, not anymore."

"Oh, Gabrielle." Xena walked slowly toward her. "It's not because I doubt you as a warrior. Remember what you said -- with each battle..."

"I lose more of myself," Gabrielle finished in a near-whisper.

"I just don't want to see that happen again.... not if there's something I can do about it."

For a few moments they faced each other silently. Then, Gabrielle said, "Xena, when you started -- when you first got together with him -- you told me you weren't going to join him or serve him."

"I'm not serving him. I'm leading an army for him in one campaign and that's it. I promise you." She reached out and squeezed the bard's hand.

"Xena ..." Gabrielle's mouth quivered. "All those times when Ares tried to turn you back into what you used to be..."

"You actually think he's still trying to do that?"

"Maybe not. But once you're with him as his warrior ... with all that power ... are you sure you can handle it?" She looked down, struggling to get the words out. "I've helped you pull back from the darkness before. I'm not sure I can do it now."

Gently, Xena touched Gabrielle's chin and lifted her face.

"You don't need to protect me. Not anymore."

"I couldn't stand it if you lost yourself for me," said Gabrielle.

Xena took a step back and folded her arms. Her eyes were stinging, and it was much too stuffy in the tent.

"I'll be fine," she said. "Like it or not, what's done is done. I knew the terms when I challenged Alcibiades. It's too late to back off."

"There's always a way out, Xena. I've learned that from you."

"And we're going to be okay. Just trust me. Please?"

The bard sighed.

"If this is what you have to do, then my place is with you. Fighting by your side."

"No!" The force of her cry seemed to throw them apart. Then Xena repeated more gently, "No. This isn't your fight."

"It is now."

"I don't want you fighting in this war."

"What do you want me to do, then? Go pick some berries while you play Warrior Queen?"

The air between them was heavy with tension, and Xena actually felt relieved when Phaleron's muffled voice came from outside.

"My lady?"

"Yes?"

"The other tent is ready."

"Good. Come in here, Phaleron." As he entered, she motioned toward Gabrielle. "This is Gabrielle of Potadeia, who wishes to serve in my army. As priest of Ares and my second in command, I want you to witness her oath."

Gabrielle stared at her.

"You want an oath of loyalty from me?"

"Not of loyalty." Xena's voice softened but only for a moment. "Of obedience."

She nearly broke down when she saw the look on Gabrielle's face -- so earnest, so wounded, so passionate. But this had to be done.

"All right," Gabrielle said quietly. She took a step back.

"Do you swear that, as long as you serve in the army I command, you will faithfully follow and obey my orders?"

She closed her eyes and bowed her head.

"I will."

"Swear it. On your honor as an Amazon queen."

"I swear, on my honor as an Amazon queen." A hollow echo spoke Xena's own words back to her.

"In the name of Ares," Phaleron said drily, "I witness this oath."

"Good," Xena said. "I have your assignment, Gabrielle. You are now the official scribe for this army."

Gabrielle gaped in disbelief.

"Official what?"

"Scribe. Keeper of chronicles. Oh, and you are expressly ordered not to take part in the fighting. You are much too valuable on the job."

"Xena -- "

"You're not about to argue with your commander, are you? Not after you've just taken your oath?" She saw the desperate plea in Gabrielle's eyes and nodded to the priest. "Go outside, Phaleron. I'll follow you in a minute."

When he was gone, she put her hands on Gabrielle's shoulders.

"I'm sorry... I had to do this. For you. For us." She forced herself to look Gabrielle in the face, and knew that she was the one pleading. "Maybe this is the best thing for you. Take the knowledge you've gained of the warrior's way, and put it to use as a bard."

"So you get to decide what's best for me."

"Gabrielle... when you gave up the Way of Love because of me, you said you chose the Way of Friendship. Remember?" She smiled, holding back tears, and lightly stroked Gabrielle's cheek with the back of her hand. "Well ... this is my way of friendship."

* ~ * ~ *

The sun stood high in the harsh blue canopy of the sky, battering the camp, making the throngs of soldiers look like a glittering sea of armor and leather -- a gleam so bright that it would no doubt have been painful to the eyes if Ares' eyes had been mortal.

It was hard to believe that this was happening, that he was once again seeing Xena like this, not just as a warrior but as a leader of warriors. Alcibiades' officers had just sworn their allegiance to her, and now the soldiers, their hair damp and their skin slick with sweat in the sweltering sun, cheered and chanted her name. The sound of it gave him a thrill almost as intense as the one he felt when his own named was called out by warriors and worshipers. Just like in the old days ... except that, back then, she felt the same thrill and he knew it, even if she remained outwardly impassive. Now, she was merely enduring this moment. Occasionally, she would glance almost timidly at Gabrielle, who stood apart from the officers, her face drawn and careworn. Ares remained invisible, but a couple of times Xena looked in his direction too, with an expression he couldn't quite read.

Then, for just a moment, her eyes glittered and he knew that she was feeling it too, and his body responded with such violent yearning that he had to fight the urge to whisk her away right then.

When the cheers had died down, she held up her hand and stared ahead, squinting at the sun. Then she spoke, her voice strong and resonant.

"In two days, we march against Rome."

Again, a chorus of thousands roared its approval, the wave of sound rising and crashing over the soldiers' heads. This time, Xena did not wait for the cheering to stop; she lowered her hand, nodded curtly to the officers and walked back to her tent.

There was hushed muttering in the ranks; the soldiers were evidently somewhat nonplused by their new leader's abrupt departure. Phaleron frowned slightly and stepped forward to dismiss them.

Ares lingered a moment before following Xena inside. By now, his desire had simmered down, and there was a certain pleasure in postponing its fulfilment. He flashed into view just as she sat down on a bench and started to take off her boots. She stopped and looked up at him. That gleam in her eyes was gone now, and he knew what he had seen there before -- not even sadness but ... disappointment?

"Xena." He reached out, lightly stroking her cheek with the back of his hand.

She rose to face him, and Ares had the unnerving feeling that something between them was missing, lost.

He drew her close, and her lips were warm and pliant as she received his kiss.

"Let me take you somewhere," he whispered, pulling away.

One side of her mouth twitched into a wry, sad half-smile.

"I don't know, Ares. Maybe it's not such a good idea to sleep with my boss."

"Funny." He brushed a strand of hair, damp with sweat, away from her face.

"It wasn't supposed to be."

Ares let go of her with an exasperated sigh.

"Xena -- you don't have to do this."

"I knew what I was getting into when I took on Alcibiades. A deal's a deal."

The War God winced.

"Don't." He brushed his finger against her lips. "It doesn't have to be like that between us ... not anymore."

"Now you have everything you've ever wanted, don't you," she said. "Me at the head in your army -- and in your bed."

With his memory sharpened by his powers, the day she had come to his temple in Amphipolis nearly thirty years ago was fresh in Ares' mind. I'm offering you everything you ever wanted. My sword, and the body that wields it. Take it. She had lied to him then -- after he'd given her no other choice.

The vague dread lurking in the back of his mind grew stronger, and he felt as if he had broken something fragile that couldn't be repaired ... but he hadn't really done anything, had he? The only thing he knew for sure was that he wanted -- needed to make love to her, to have her in his arms...

Xena touched his hand.

"Ares," she said softly. "Let's go."

In the next moment they were in the bedroom at the Thracian fortress, where, at his will, the oil lamps stirred and flames leaped in the hearth; but this time he undressed her with his hands as a mortal would, pausing to kiss and caress the exposed skin.

Later, he held her in his arms and wondered why, for the first time, their lovemaking had left him unsatisfied. He desired her more ardently than ever, and after the initial awkwardness she had responded fully to his passion. But there was that same feeling again, the feeling that something was missing.

Everything he had ever wanted...

Maybe she just needed time to get used to this.

Maybe he did.

* ~ * ~ *

Gabrielle pushed away the scroll and the quill and rubbed her eyes, staring at the single sentence she had managed to write in the last hour: "In the month of Boedromion, on the third day, Xena's army entered the city of Skodra at sundown." She had crossed out "Xena's army" and replaced it with "Ares' army," then with "the army of Ares and Xena," then stared at the parchment for a while, and finally gone back to the original.

The third of Boedromion... so it had been about a month since Xena's troops had crossed the Macedonian border into the Roman province of Illyricum and taken Skodra, once the capital of the independent Illyria. After that, the army had easily swept through half of the province; the Roman forces stationed there to control the locals were unprepared for a real war, and had quickly retreated under the onslaught of a superior military force.

Now, with reinforcements sent from Rome under the command of General Quintilius Gallo, they had gathered in the coastal city of Salonae, the seat of the colonial Roman administration. Low-walled and unfortified, with a population whose loyalty to Rome was questionable at best, Salonae was in no shape to withstand a siege. The negotiations for surrender had collapsed, and scouts had reported that Gallo was planning to take his three legions out into the open field the next morning to meet Xena's army in battle.

Gabrielle sighed and got up. Without much hope for success, she was going try it once more: ask Xena to reverse her order and let her fight. She walked out into the cool evening air, heading toward Xena's tent. As dusk enveloped the camp in a bluish-grey haze, torches and bonfires were flaring up. Everything bustled with activity in preparation for the big day.

"Hey, Gabby!"

She turned around to see Mykillos, a lieutenant who had pestered her on several occasions with what was obviously intended as flirting. He sat by a fire with half a dozen other officers.

"Come over and read us a poem!" he called out, somehow managing to make it sound like a crude invitation.

"Come on, Mykillos," said one of the men. "Your turn."

Just as she was about to move on, Gabrielle noticed a target pinned to the trunk of a tree a few feet from the fire, with four daggers lodged in it. The man who had spoken to Mykillos rose, walked up to the tree and yanked out the knives.

Her interest piqued, she came closer.

"What are you doing?"

"Who's this?" asked the lone woman officer in the group, looking her over none too amicably.

"What, Berenice, you don't know?" said Mykillos. "Gabrielle, Xena's scribe. Famous bard, right, Gabby?"

Gabrielle narrowed her eyes at the lieutenant with a contemptuous little sniff.

"Oh no," a burly man with a shaggy red beard gasped in mock horror. "You've done it. She's going to read us a poem."

"Hey, Mykillos," said Berenice, "you wanna charm the ladies or you wanna throw the daggers?"

"All right, all right." Mykillos scrambled to his feet and picked up the knives.

"Wait a minute," Gabrielle said sweetly. "Having a contest?"

She wasn't sure what was goading her on. Maybe she just wanted to boost her self-confidence before seeing Xena ... and to help herself brace for the moment when Xena would almost inevitably turn down her request.

"We are," Mykillos said. "Wanna cheer me on?"

"Actually, I want to play. I mean, I want to be in the contest," Gabrielle added hastily, hoping that the officers hadn't seen her blush.

"Oh please," snorted Berenice. "We're playing with daggers, not quills, Miss Famous Bard."

When the guffaws had died down, Gabrielle said, "I have some experience with daggers."

"Yeah, probably about as much as Mykillos here does with the ladies," said the man with the red beard, setting off a new round of laughs.

"Up yours, Timon," grunted Mykillos. "Hey, Gabby, I'll play with you anytime. So, what do you want to wager?"

"A scroll!" Berenice snickered.

"Um ... five dinars?"

"No, no," the lieutenant said with a leer. "Let's make it something more interesting. Say ... how about ... your top?" He gestured, just in case she hadn't gotten it.

Gabrielle shot him a disgusted glance. "I don't think it's your size."

"It'll look nice hanging in my tent as a souvenir," said Mykillos.

Timon shook his head.

"Mykillos, you idiot. She's Xena's friend. Xena finds out about this and you can kiss your balls good-bye."

The bard glanced sideways at the men, wondering if she had enough confidence in her skills to make this wager.

"Okay," she said, rather shocked at herself. "My top..." -- she had a sudden idea -- "against your sword, Mykillos."

"My sword? Are you nuts?"

"She means the one at your side," said Berenice.

"What do you want to do with it, sharpen your quills? Oh all right, let's do it."

Grinning broadly, Mykillos handed two of the daggers to Gabrielle. Then, he planted his feet wide apart at the line drawn in the ground, took aim, and threw the knives. There were two dull thuds as they hit the target, quite close to the center. He turned to Gabrielle with a bow of mock gallantry.

"Give the girl a break, Mykillos," said one of the officers. "Let her take a couple of extra paces."

Ignoring the remark, Gabrielle took her position at the line and focused, raising her arm. The daggers slashed through the darkening air tinted by firelight.

Bull's-eye.

She breathed a small sigh of relief. After a brief pause, the officers clapped and cheered, and she took a measure of satisfaction in the disbelieving and indignant look on Mykillos' face.

"Hand it over," she said, smirking.

Muttering a curse, Mykillos unhooked the sword from his belt and shoved it in her hands.

"Want to go another round?" asked Berenice, clearly impressed.

Gabrielle shook her head. "Maybe some other time."

In a ridiculously better mood (as if she needed to prove to herself that she was still a capable warrior!), she returned with her trophy to her tent. Then, she was back on her way to see Xena.

Some minutes later, Gabrielle pushed aside the flap of Xena's tent, walked in and froze in her tracks.

In the corner of the nearly bare tent, where hardly anything remained of Alcibiades' furnishings except a mahogany table, a couple of chairs and a few lamps, Xena and Ares lay together reclining on pelts and pillows -- she in her leather tunic, leaning back against his chest; he with his vest, belt and gauntlets off, his arms wrapped around her, his cheek pressed to the top of her head. Their eyes were closed, but Gabrielle was stunned by the look on their faces -- a wistful tenderness, as if they knew that this moment would be over too soon and yet were desperate to hold on to it. She watched, mesmerized, as Xena put her hand over Ares' and squeezed it lightly while his other hand stroked her hair, his fingers running gently through its dark strands.

Gabrielle felt embarrassed, resentful and moved all at once. She was about to get out and leave them alone when Ares' eyelids flickered half-open. It was only an instant before the softness was gone from his eyes, giving way to annoyance and then to the familiar sarcastic glint.

"Here comes the scribe," he said, sitting up and dislodging Xena from his chest.

Xena flinched and opened her eyes, casting an anxious look at Gabrielle.

"I could -- uh -- come back later," Gabrielle said.

"No, no. Come in," Xena said quickly.

Ares unhurriedly put on his vest and gauntlets -- the mortal way, Gabrielle noted -- and rose.

"Xena," she said uncomfortably, "could we talk ... alone?"

"Don't you take the prize for subtle hints," Ares said, buckling his belt. Before she could answer anything, he had vanished with the usual flare of blue light, but something -- maybe the amused sparkle that peeked through the sadness in Xena's eyes -- told her he hadn't really left. With a quick motion, she pulled a sai from one of her boots and sent it flying at the spot where he had last stood. It swished unimpeded through the air before crashing into a bowl of fruit that stood on a tripod by the wall and knocking it over.

"Gabrielle? What in Tartarus was that?"

"Sorry... I thought he was still here."

"He is," Ares' mocking voice said behind her. "Right instinct. Wrong direction."

Gabrielle rolled her eyes and thought of throwing her other dagger at him but figured that he would just move to some other spot and make her look ridiculous again. She glanced questioningly at Xena.

"He's gone."

"I'm sorry I interrupted you."

"It's okay."

She came closer and sat down on the pelt next to Xena. They were silent for a few moments, and Gabrielle wondered if they had talked, really talked, even once in all those weeks since Xena took command of Ares' army. How could they, really, when there was so much to avoid?

"So, what have you been doing?" Xena asked.

"Oh, the usual. The bard thing." Even the light-hearted banter now seemed more like a clumsy attempt at a distraction. Gabrielle thought of telling Xena about the dagger-throwing contest, but then it occurred to her that Xena would make her give up the sword she had won from Mykillos. She wanted to keep it, just in case.

"I miss having you around," Xena said suddenly, her voice soft, almost timid.

"Me too."

In the next moment they were holding each other, and, very briefly, it was as if they didn't need to talk. Then, Xena pulled back and asked, "You wanted to speak to me about something?"

"Xena..." She took a deep breath. "Please let me fight tomorrow. I can't -- "

"No." Xena pressed a finger to her lips and shook her head. "No, Gabrielle. We've been over this. You are not fighting in this war."

She held Gabrielle's hands, and her touch was warm and gentle as always, but this time it wasn't enough.

* ~ * ~ *

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