Chapter Five
A Time For Us

Joxer shook his head, lowering the guitar and mouthing several things Gabrielle knew were expletives with a worn smile. He turned to Andrew who shook his head at himself, running a hand through his tied-back hair. Joxer let out a vocal sigh of amusement.

"Come on, man ... How many times have we been through this riff?"

Andrew nodded, waving a hand, "I know man I know - sorry dude."

"Now stop starin' at Meg's balcony and play the riff!"

Meg put her hands on her hips suddenly and jiggled them prissily, dropping a jaw at Joxer.

"Watch it Jock," she said in a husky tone, "Don't want me giving your name a different meaning now do ya?"

The singer grinned, a chuckle echoing through the mild voice effect. Joxer hefted the guitar, sparing a quick wink to Gabrielle, "Don't worry baby, we're nearly done."

"Oh yeah," Andrew rolled his eyes and leaned forward to the mic with a grin, "So the sugar can only be thrown about by the sex bomb?"

Joxer chuckled, "Put it away, Andy. Just keep your mind on the music while we're forking out dough for the studio time, right?!"

"Yeah okay," he nodded, "Sorry Jock."

"It's cool," he nodded, "Sorry Aut - uh - Andy."

Gabrielle squinted her eyes in shock. Damn - he came so close to saying the name, the old name of his bassist. She was glad she didn't have to talk to him yet, she was sure she'd let it slip. She'd spent the past 15 minutes going over the band member's future names in her head. Andrew, not Autolycus. Ian, not Iolaus. Meg - still Meg. She glowered. There was a pang every time she looked at that face. An inner venom of jealousy that had never died in her. She watched Joxer bop as the music ran to a steady rhythm, his thighs pounding booted feet to the floor with shudders, his shirt fluttering open freely to the middle of his chest. His hair flipped about his eyes, and she grinned at the sight of the dopey man so powerful in his element.

The song rolled up and finally finished after many tries, and Joxer curled out from under the guitar strap, nodding and smiling finally.

"It worked that time guys," he said, "It's fantastic."

"You did good too, Jock," Ian smiled, "But you keep us back this late again and I'm leavin' when you said I'd be leavin', you got that?"

Jock grinned knowingly, "Sure buddy, but we got a big gig next week, I's just making sure we knew our stuff."

"Yeah yeah," Ian said, shaking his head, "And Nel will really thank you when I get to my next match of squash half an hour late."

Joxer winced, "I hate crossin' Nel."

"Nel hates crossin' you, so watch it," the drummer said, sliding a drum into a black cover.

Meg unplugged her keyboard, a smile beaming over to Andrew. Such a repor. She wondered why they never hit it off in her time, thinking about it they were perfect for each other.

"Hey, you awake?"

She glanced up, seeing Joxer standing in front of her, unscrewing a microphone stand he'd dragged with him. She smiled with some bewilderment.

"You really run a tight ship huh?"

Joxer blushed and nodded, "You have to I mean - they know it's nothing personal. I don't mean it half the time, it's just the way it is."

She nodded, "God, must be hard putting up with that."

"Naah," he shook his head, "Me and the guys - we've been playing for years."

"Yeah? Wow..."

"It felt strange today though," he grinned, "Telling Iolaus what to do!!"

Gabrielle broke into giggles, "Man you're so lucky he can't remember who the fuck you are!"

Joxer grinned tensely and nodded with wide eyes. He relaxed and laughed with her.

"I'll help the guys pack up and I'll meet you here in a minute."

"Kay," she smiled, leaning foward as he kissed her breifly. He turned, diving into the foray of the packing up, and she silently watched him converse and move, existing in a new world that was completely perfect for him.

Perfect. It was a word that featured a lot right now. She missed the forests, the nature, the smell of burning wood, but oh! The conveniences of the twenty-first century. The baths, the hair-care products... the condoms! Sex and no babies - what a luxury!! The fast food, the beautifully comfortable beds. And no fighting. Not that she saw. Sure, there was crime in the streets, but there was law enforcement for that. She wasn't going to become some vigilante any time soon, that was for sure. What worried her was that if Zena remembered she was Xena... what would happen?

It was something that began to wind steadly up inside her like a clock spring. Every time she spoke to Zena, she perpetuated the lie by saying nothing, revealing nothing. She thought of how broken, how enraged Zena would be if she knew she was with Ares.

A sudden thought struck her. Did Arran know he was Ares? And if he did... did he know he was taking advantage of Xena?!

She frowned. It was something that was suddenly very important. As Joxer turned and waved to his friends, she felt her lips tense. He strode towards her, wagging his arms into the sleeves of his leather jacket. The sight of Gabrielle's deep frown made his face turn serious.

"Hey," he slipped an arm around her, "You okay? You look worried or-"

Thousands of years hadn't dulled his senses a tad.

"Um," she shook her head, pulling him out to the parking lot, waving to the other musicians that got into their cars, "I was just thinking about Zena and Arran."

"Yeah," Joxer nodded as he unlocked Gabrielle's door, "What about them?"

Gabrielle sat down in the passenger seat, waiting for Joxer to join her in the car. He slid his guitar into the back seat, throwing in the leads and sliding his microphone box on top of it. Slamming the doors he settled in the car, clicking on his seatbelt.

She looked to him, "What if Arran knows he's Ares?"

"Huh?" Joxer frowned at her.

"Arran. What if he knows he's Ares."

Joxer jutted his jaw to the side, his lip poking out absurdly. It was a relief to Gabrielle, seeing that expression on him. She resisted the urge to throw her arms around him and smother him in kisses.

"Then," he shrugged, "Do you blame him?"

Gabrielle looked to him with a cock of her brow, "Excuse me?"

"Well, if he is still a God," he said, revving up the engine, "Then... uhh..." He squinted, and diving his hand into the glove-compartment he pulled out a container, "Can you get my glasses out of that?"

She opened the case carefully, handing him the thin-rimmed classes tenderly, "I never knew you had eye-sight problems..."

"You kiddin'?" Joxer shook his head, "I never realised I was blind as a bat! Half the reason I was a clumsy dick."

"You were never a dick," Gabrielle said suddenly. Joxer tilted his head with a look of doubt and Gabrielle chuckled, "Okay sometimes you were an ass, and even a jerk, but never a dick."

"Thanks," He said with a twist of his lips, and Gabrielle patted his thigh.

"That's okay, honesty is my policy."

"Shit!"

The car swerved and Joxer's jaw tensed, "Gabrielle, you drive me wild honey but please - not while I'm drivin'..."

"Oh!" Gabrielle blushed, "Shit I'm sorry." She withdrew her hand from his inner thigh and looked sheepish.

"If I weren't busy I'd kiss you on your gorgeous noggin," he said, "Hey - weren't we talkin' about something else before?"

"Arran - Ares."

"Oh!" Joxer nodded, sliding on the glasses. Gabrielle was surprised - he looked incredibly intelligent and sophisticated with them. "Um," he continued, "Thing is... if he's a God still - and I doubt that cause like - they all died out or something - then he's been waiting for Xena an awfully long time."

Gabrielle nodded, "Yeah..."

"So, really, if Zena is Xena, and their basic personalities are the same..."

She gave a snorting laughed, "Boy are they ever!"

"Then," Joxer tilted his head again, "Really, Zena has made her choice hasn't she? I mean - she knows what she's doing."
 

Gabrielle nodded, "I know but... isn't it like taking advantage of her?"

"Only if Zena doesn't know she hates him. And half the time it was pretty dubious as to what the hell she really felt for the guy."

"Arran is like Ares on valium," Gabrielle said with a thoughtful pout, "He hasn't so much got the need to be evil to people, just the need to a general bastard and drink himself to oblivion."

"He's lonely that's why," Joxer shrugged, "I think that's been his problem the whole time I mean - look at his family! Sure! That's a healthy environment! Hi Uncle Hades who is the father to my half-sister's half cousin!"

Gabrielle frowned, "I never thought of it like that."

Joxer shrugged, "I dunno. I only known Arran a few days - I mean Ares - but he seems like a pretty harmless guy to me. It's the twenty-first century, I really don't know what he would want to do to her."

The bard leant forward in the seat, leaning on the dash-board, "World domination, computer viruses... sabotage."

Joxer sniggered suddenly, shaking his head, "I don't think so."

Gabrielle lifted a brow, "Huh?"

"Arran would have to get up before 11am for all that shit for one thing, for another he might be a bastard but he hasn't got an evil bone in his body."

Gabrielle screwed her face up in incomprehension, "Joxer - it's Ares!!"

"I know," Joxer nodded, his tongue rolling over his bottom lip as he turned the corner, "Ares, in the twenty-first century, thousands of years of warfare he's probably lived through, all those people he's lived with on earth probably dying, that's if he's been living on earth all those years - and then there's the being seperated from Xena all those years which - I mean - I was away from you for long enough and it's killed me."
 

"Yeah," Gabrielle nodded, "Gods, this is such a mess."
 

"I know," Joxer said, rolling the car up his driveway, "But we got each other."

She smiled, leaning towards him, "You're right."

He watched her for a moment, pushing his glasses up, "Sweety?"

"Hmm?" she said, sliding her arms around him.

"How did you get to the studio?"

She blinked, "I dro-" She shut her eyes, a heavy sigh shooting from her, "Fuck! FUCK! I - I drove and I forgot my fucking car!"

"Kmmph," Joxer slapped his knee, sniggering suddenly, "WOo!"

"Stop it!" she pouted, "Dammit I - I just - Oh man I'm so embarrassed!"

Joxer shook his head, revving up the car and redoing his seatbelt, "Come on dopey, let's get your car."

"That's the last time I come visit you at band practice."

"Oh you'll be back," he grinned, looking to the back of the car as he steered it, "Sometimes I wear the vinyl pants."

She narrowed her eyes, "Oh that's unfair..."

The ceiling of the dojo was something Arran had grown accustomed to - even to the point of knowing it intimately. He didn't mind, he'd get his own back in the next round, but in the weekly bouts he had with this woman, either he was getting worse or she was getting better. He wouldn't have been surprised if it was a bit of both.

What had become really amazing was the different air the san shou session had been this afternoon. It was just friendly sparring, nothing like the intense sessions they had during the week, and after half-an-hour he was looking forward to some lifting in the gym next door. It was *how* friendly the sparring was that surprised him.

There was something intensely sexual about their match that made him glad he was wearing the slack black gi pants of the sport. He ducked, jabbed, rolled, punched, and she dipped and sidestepped fluidly, tipping him to the floor with a quick kick. He felt the floor roll up and slam him, and he sighed. There it was again - hello ceiling.

"What the hell is up with you?" she panted, "You haven't won one bout!"

He wiped at his forehead with the back of his hand, taking Zena's proffered hand, "Had my mind elsewhere."

"Yeah well you're the only sparring partner I've had that's been able to stand up to me," she said in a low husky growl, "So don't go soft on me!"

He grinned suddenly, "Never."

There was a low chuckle and Zena clenched her eyes shut, "Does that slut have to follow us everywhere we go?"

Arran tipped his head, "Well... it's the regional san shou centre, Ze."

Zena narrowed her eyes and sighed, "Yeah but she's such a pain in the ass."

Arran smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead gently, taking Zena by surprise. The tender gesture surprised her, and running a hand on her head she looked up to him. He rose a brow in question. Zena just smiled.

"Well, if it isn't Butch and Sundance," Callista sneered. "Practicing for the finals, Zeze?"

Zena curled a nostril, and with lightening reflex she let a leg flick out, kicking the blonde from her feet. Callista chuckled from the floor, shaking her head.

"I guess you ask a stupid question and you get snooty answer," she said, pulling herself to her feet. She stood close to Zena, looking Arran up and down behind her. His hand grabbing the brunette's hand possessively sparked a smile on the blonde's face. "Awwww," she tilted her head, grinning, twirling a finger around a wragged lock, "Are Butch and Sundance in love?! What a bolt from the blue! I'd never have thought YOU two would get together!"

There was a decided sarcasm in Callista's tone and Zena just smirked.

"Don't let the jealousy eat you up too much, Cal," Zena said, "There's plenty of bozo's in the sea just perfect for you."

A flash struck Callista's large brown orbs, and a tight smile took her face as she grabbed her bag at her feet, "Seeya in the ring, Zeze."

Zena frowned as the blonde skulked away, with her proverbial tail between her legs. Guilt errupted within her and she sighed, "I'm such a bitch."

Arran gave a strangled cough, "What?!"

Zena sighed and shook her head, "I really shouldn't go down to her level like that. I think I hurt her feelings this time."

Arran shook his head, "That bitch doesn't have feelings to hurt."

Zena frowned, turning Arran around to look at her, "Ar - everyone deserves a little respect. Even if Callista's behaviour doesn't demand it."

With that, Zena turned, throwing off her hand wraps and heading for the gym.

The blonde woman threw a slew of punches at the punching bag as she jumped up and down, her body flowing like silk as the wave of power ran through her and into the canvas bag. Her eyes were drilling into the bag, red at the rims which Zena tried so hard to ignore in the other room.

Zena stepped forward from the array of fitness devices to the punching bag in the corner, a sadness in her blue orbs.

"What do you want Zena?" Callista said through a huffing breath, "Come to kick me whilst I'm down?"

Zena tightened her lips, shaking her head, "No. No, I came to apologize."

Callista's stark brows lifted, and she propped her wrapped hands on her slim hips, eying Zena, "What for?"

Zena's brows now descended, and she met the other woman's guarded gaze, "I'm sorry for what I said I - I hadn't realised I could upset you."

Callista snorted, laying into the bag again, "Like you care."

Zena shrugged, sitting on the edge of a lifting machine, "I don't like upsetting people, believe it or not."

A laugh fell from Callista, and she shook her head.

"Oh that's rich," she shook her head, "You act like a stiff bitch and you say you don't like upsetting people? God! How stupid do you think I am?"

"It's true," Zena said, "And I'm not a stiff bitch - I'm only like that around you, and in the ring. Which, truth be known, is the only time you ever see me."

Callista rolled her tongue about in her mouth, looking to Zena with a sceptical gaze.

"You up to something? Is that what this is? Cause nothing you say is gonna make me hold back next week at the finals."

"This has nothing to do with the finals," Zena said, getting up, "And everything to do with me going over the line. Rubbing my relationship with Arran in your face was a spiteful and awful thing to do - and I'm sorry I did it."

Callista narrowed her eyes, "I would have done the same in your position."

"Would you have apologized?"

Zena had tilted her head, looking to the young woman long. The woman shrugged, laying into the bag again.

"Probably not," she said, "But I'm not you am I?"

"No," Zena shook her head, turning to leave, "You're not."

She strode forward, just about ready for some lifting, when she heard;

"Ze..."

Zena turned her head, meeting the uncertain gaze of Callista.

"I um - I accept your apology."

Blinking, the brunette woman nodded with a wary smile, and she turned and walked through to meet Arran. He was pulling off his light-weight boxing gloves, stuffing them into his sport's bag.

"Did you have fun slinging shit at her?" Arran said, not looking at her, concentrating on filling the bag with his things.

"I apologized."

Arran shot a look to her of utter shock, "You did what?!"

Zena toed the ground, "I apologized for the jealousy crack, it wasn't nice."

Arran gave a snort, "It's Callista, babe, I wouldn't spare the woman a piss if she was on fire."

"I'd spare her a bucket..."

Arran frowned, "You'd spare her a bucket of piss?"

"No!" Zena sighed, flumping down on the mat on the dojo floor, "Water you idiot. I just... I'm sick of fighting with her. It's been going on for years."

"She's still a bitch," Arran said, hefting the bag onto his broad shoulder.

"So am I," Zena said, looking up to him, "What makes me any different?"

Arran grinned, "You got style."

Zena shook her head, letting Arran pull her up, "Ar, that's not good enough. I deserve the same treatment as her."

Arran watched her eyes as the gleamed with a torrent of guilt, and he rolled his lips, reaching a hand out and touching her elbow, easing her towards him. He slid his arms around her, pressing her to him tenderly, and brushing some hair from her ear he sighed.

"The difference between you and Callista, is that you're in here, feeling remorse for the cruelty you've dealt her, and she's in there, convincing herself she doesn't care."

Zena looked to his eyes, astonishment flowering within her. She never thought she'd hear anything that made so much sense from the likes of Arran. His brows tilted up, his eyes gazing into hers doing to her soul what his hand was doing at her jaw, cradling and stroking it gently. It was at that moment she realised with a yawning sensation that perhaps Arran was ... he was more than this, more than beer and women and pot and an annoying family. He was more than all of it. She swallowed, a shudder taking her as if she thought a ditch in the street was pretty deep, and turning she'd seen the great gaping expanse of the Grand Canyon and felt quietly stupid for thinking a ditch was anything to go 'wow' at.

"What have you been hiding from me," she said suddenly, tenderly, "Hmm? Why do you pretend to be some smart-ass bastard when you're like this underneath it all?"

Arran shrugged, "I've always been the bad guy," he said, "The guy to blame, the guy to be angry at. Never known anything different."

She frowned. Bad guy. The whole sentiment jangled in her with a fierce sense of deja-vu, and she shook herself.

"We should go do some weights," she said suddenly, grabbing her bag from her next to her feet.

"Hey."

She glanced up to Arran. He pulled her up, and with a faint smile he pressed his lips to hers, soothing her with a warm melting kiss. She felt a shiver run through her, and a smile lifted her features a little. She ran her hand to his neck, caressing him there a moment before getting back to her fitness state of mind.

Yes, she thought to herself, something was very strange with Arran. She found it quietly appalling that she'd never noticed it before. Perhaps it was last night, coupled with Gabrielle's behaviour this morning. Her and the whole Jock thing. She wasn't sure why it shook her so badly. The entire situation just made her mind fuzzy, as if she were staggering drunk and the room was spinning airily about her. Again and again she pushed it from her mind, refusing to figure out why it was disturbing her so greatly. And it *was* disturbing her, as if there was something she was refusing to see, something she didn't want to know about. Except she had absolutely NO idea what it was or why she'd want to refuse to see something 'cause she was a brave and valiant woman, not one to hide from responsibilities or adversity. Yet this was - bigger - than anything she had to face in her life. She knew it. Worse than puberty, the day she knew she'd have to grow breasts and stop playing with the boys so rough, and the day Wham got in the charts. Yep, a lot worse. Worse than her parent's divorce? Seemingly so.

And she pushed it from her mind, again. Right now, for a cosy moment, she was happy. She wasn't angry with Arran, in fact she was slowly falling in love with him, and her best friend was blissfully happy, and even though she was a little hung over, she was in fine form. Arran, was another story. It was certainly the last time she was letting him get that smashed. She needed him. For erm - for practice and stuff yeah. Needed him for practice sparring.

Denise, dark hair, deeply brown eyes that seemed almost black, buxom form and petit visage, pouted her blood-red lipsticked lips with much impatience. She wasn't in the mood for this. She barely ever saw her twisted cousin Aphie, and she made sure it stayed that way. She was thoroughly convinced that Aphie was a complete freakazoid in the most offensive of ways.

She was tall, she was blonde, she was busty, she was skinny. That was bad enough. The reek of cheerleader varsity in the woman's talk just made her sick. Not that she was ever a cheerleader. She was always too 'cool' to be a cheerleader. Cheerleaders get sweaty, and sweaty was so unhip.

But she was trashy, she was normal, she was what all women thought they wanted to be and it was a joke.

Denise, however, knew that she was what women really wanted to be. Her black hair was piled up on top of her head, kept in place by japanese hair fastenings, and her eyes splashed with wild deep dark colours. Her skin was painted with the luminence of glitter dust, and her body clothed in the fine dark garments of death and depression. Pleather and platforms shod her feet, and long burgundy silk gloves with netted black gloves over the top ran from her elbows to her hands, the fingers cut out messily. In her gaudy black pearly nailed fingers hung a cigarette, and the girl rose a brow at the blonde woman across from her at the table. She threw on a pair of black elegant sunglasses, chewing her gum indignantly.

"Aphie," she said, taking a drag on her cigarette, "Will you quit with the chit chat and tell me why the fuck you're even talking to me at all?"

Aphrodite squirmed in her seat with an uncomfortable, her nose wrinkling at the cigarette, "Um, it's kinda like this - see - you and Arran, you have an understanding right?"

She shrugged, "I see him at the odd gig or two, he's a member of my family that I don't despise - yeah."

"Right," Aphie nodded, "Right! So like - I need you to help me out here, I mean I wouldn't ask unless I was really really desperate-"

Denise snorted a laugh, "Surprised you didn't come to me before then."

Aphie narrowed her eyes and sighed, "I'm ignoring that, 'cause I care for Ar."

Denise blinked, chewing the gum with some shock, "Really?"

"Yes!" she nodded, "Of course I do!"

The goth shrugged, "Then what's got your pasty pink g-string panties in a twist then eh?"

"Well, he's recently gotten with Zena right?"

Denise watched her fingers fiddle idly with the cigarette in her hand like a cat with a mouse, "Yeah..."

"Well you know, I've gone through the change, you have - we all have. We're all ready to move on - except Ar and - I really really know it now. This is his chance-"

"You said that the last time," Denise said, eying her cousin darkly.

"I know I know," she waved a pink-nailed hand, "But like I'm really certain this time ya know?"

"Why?"

Aphrodite eyed Denise, splaying her hands out on the table and leaving a silence ominous enough to pique the goth's idle interest. "Xena came back - as Zena. And she's the same - all of it's the same! Right down to Studmuffin and Whiney the Wonderbard!"

Denise frowned at the cigarette, and dragged her gaze over to Aphie with a confused frown, "Really?"

Aphrodite nodded thoroughly, "Yes! I think this is his last chance to get a clue, Denise, or he goes" She pointed down.

Denise seemed to grow a little serious, her eyes glinting, "He goes permanently down - lower?"

"Forever," she said, "A sad bastard, on a lower spiritual plane," she sighed, putting her face in her hands, "He's been the same for thousands of years. Never changing... maybe he's scared or-"

"He has changed," Denise said with a frown, "You better fucking believe he's changed. He's just not a fluffy kinda guy."

"If that's so, then why hasn't he ascended at all?" Aphrodite said with a pout.

"I dunno," shrugged Denise, "Why ya lookin' at me for?!"

"I don't know," Aphrodite sighed, "Just don't tell Mom okay? She'll be like 'ARRAN! Why ya not get de beyoodiful woman yet' Stupid old cow."

Denise sniggered and sighed, "Well who knows. So why you need my help so bad?"

"I don't I just," Aphrodite looked to her, "Just help him out if he needs it - kay?"

Denise met the serious glow of the crystaline blue eyes across from her. It was amazing to think such a diametricly opposite woman was her blood relation.

"Sure," she said, "Like I don't look out for him anyways."

"Thanks," Aphie sighed with relief, knocking back the last of her coffee. She regarded the younger cousin a long moment. "You know, I've always admired your eveningware."

Denise blinked, "You have?"

Aphie nodded, a surprising sincerity there, "Except I wouldn't go with the black on black dress code but..."

"Yeah well you see me steering away from pink."

Aphie looked Denise up and down, "I think pink might go well with your style if you used it right."

"Are you tripping?" the younger woman curled a lip.

"No no no," she shook her head, pulling the girl up, "Just trust me."

"I trust you as far as I can throw a dead rat without pukin," muttered Denise, butting out her cigarette and pulling out another.

Aphie shook her head, "That is so grody..."

Denise grinned. "If it disgusts you, then it's my pleasure!"

"You should have seen it," Zena said, shaking her head, "I feel like such a bitch."

"You're not," Gabrielle said with a smile, folding up a shirt into an overnight bag, "It's not your fault that one of the many moments you defend yourself, Callista decides to feel sorry for herself."

"She has every right to," Zena said, "Everyone treats her like shit."

Gabrielle narrowed her eyes in a bewildered smile, "She's just getting back what she deals out."

Zena gave an uncertain curl of a nostril, "Well you know what it says in the bible an' shit... Violence begets violence... it's the same with bitchiness."

Gabrielle giggled, "You're quoting the good book now?" She shook her head as she stuffed some socks into the bag, "You're starting to sound like my mother."

The statement seemed to fly right past Zena as she gazed to the window. The past two days had been unsettling. She shook her head and sighed.

"Anyway - why even bother packing an overnight bag? May as well just move in at the rate you two are going!"

Gabrielle glared at her best friend, clutching a sweater slightly. A frown settled on her face, "You think we're going too fast?"

Zena gave a weak smirk and shrugged, "Shit I don't know. Do I look like Dr. Laura?"

"Thankfully, NO," Gabrielle said as she zipped her bag up, "Come on - we have a gig to catch, and if we wanna see Joxer we're gonna have to catch him before Hot Spandex get on."

"Yeah..."

Gabrielle turned and blinked at her best friend staring off somewhere past the opposite wall of her bedroom. "Zena... Are you okay? This thing with Callista really shook you up huh?"

Zena's eyes lifted to meet Gabrielle's, and the same disarray that had filled her before at the gym shook her again. She shook her head a little, shrugging and lifted a shaking hand to her bangs, wiping them from her brow.

"I - I don't know. Just - everything in the past couplah days it seems... I don't know. It's wierd, it's making me feel weird."

Gabrielle sat down slowly, a caution, maybe something more, glowing in her eyes, "Like weird how?"

Zena glared at her friend guardedly, "You know I don't believe in that hokey crap you do..."

With half-lidded eyes of tolerance Gabrielle nodded, "Yeah."

"All that funny vibe crap... I just - every time I see Jock and you together something in me just rings this bell and I get - this is so dumb - I get the weirdest sense of deja-vu," Zena looked to Gabrielle, shaking her head again, "It's more than just that, than what I said at the cafe today. I swear, Gabrielle, something really strange is going on. Jesus, I must sound like a fucking fruitcake."

"No," Gabrielle shook her head fervently, holding her friend at the shoulders, "Zena, you never sound crazy."

Zena gave a restless moan and waved a hand, "I am and this is fucked up stuff."

Gabrielle sighed, rolling her eyes in thought, "Look... why don't we just go to the gig tonight, watch Jock, and try to enjoy ourselves hmm? The fun might settle you down."

"I don't know if I wanna go," the woman scowled.

"Why not?"

Zena sank her head into her hands, "Arran's gonna be there."

Gabrielle shut her hanging jaw, "Wh- I thought you liked him!"

"I do," said Zena, "That's my problem."

Gabrielle smiled, grabbing her friend's hand and squeezing it, "It's okay to be scared of falling in love, Zena."

Zena glanced to her friend, her brows rising, "What makes you think I'm falling in love with him?"

Gabrielle shrugged and smiled again, "Well, it's pretty obvious... hanging out with him, thinking about him, mooching after him-"

"I do NOT mooch," snapped Zena, glaring at her friend, "I ponder, I muse... I do not mooch."

"Ookay," the writer shrugged, "Whatever you say."

"Oh don't you 'whatever you say' me, at least I knew the guy a few years before I fucked him."

Gabrielle glared back at Zena, "What?!"

"You heard me," Zena said, folding her arms grudgingly. Gabrielle shook her head, grabbing her back and storming out the door.

"At least I'm not in denial!" she shouted, "You can let yourself out!"

Zena bit her lip, "Shit... Gabrielle!" She jumped up, chasing her friend out the door and down the steps of her apartment, "Gabrielle wait!"

"No!" the younger woman said, grabbing Zena's things from inside the door and thrusting them into the woman's arms, "I'm so not in the mood for you and your shits tonight Zena. I'm not Callista to be yapped at like a bitch!"

"I did not YAP at you!" Zena growled, "I just-"

"Barked!" Gabrielle said, "And you practically called me a slut!"
 

Zena sighed, "Gabrielle! It was a joke! Stop overreacting!"

Gabrielle rolled her green eyes, "You're the one going super-bitch just because a guy actually cares about you! You tell ME who's overreacting!" At that the blonde stomped up the steps to her front door. Zena ran forward to meet a freshly slammed door, complete with shuddering knocker. The cruel silence of the door daunted her, and glancing up to the second story window she gasped.

"Shit... GABRIELLE!"

Nothing.  What a fucking night.

Chapter Six
A Night to Forget

Frostbites, in it's gauche neon lighting and ice-castle motif furniture, was fit to burst with darkly clad bodies, bright colours punctuating the crowd on feminine shapes and set hair thick with hairspray. The mingled smell of heady cologne, cheap beer, cigarettes and the stronger liquer ran through the club, each spot in the hang out having it's stronger elements. The writer sat at the table, impatience in her bearing, her dark-haired friend gazing back at the bar of club with as much restlessness. The tension was palpable as Zena moped with a dark scowl and folded arms, Gabrielle gritting her teeth giving her silence in return. Zena felt it a miracle they were sitting at the same table right now. Though if it weren't for Arran with them that night they probably wouldn't even be here. Or she wouldn't be anyway. Maybe. Conversation... needed to be made. She had a spirited urge to fix everything, it wouldn't leave her.

"Where are those drinks he promised us?" she growled with some uncertainty, "I'm thirsty."

Gabrielle shook her head, her lips tight and refusing to move.

"Are you going to give me that pathetic silent treatment all night?! Honestly - how fucking old ARE you?"

Gabrielle gave a hot sigh, lifting her hand and shaking her head with a prissy jiggle of her shoulders. Zena swore under her breath, shaking her head. This was fucking ridiculous, and swearing at her obviously wasn't the way to go. Idiot.

"Hey!"

Zena turned, scowling at the voice of her love cutting through the background chatter. The scowl lifted as his lips deposited a brief kiss to her cheek, the soft scratch of his goatee sending her heart a-flutter. She smiled to him, the gesture not touching any other part of her face but her lips.

"Hey..."

He pointed behind him to a darkly dressed woman approaching the table, "My cousin Denise decided to tag along tonight, you don't mind if she sits with you guys, do you?"

"Arran," groaned the sharp young voice, "I don't need to be babysat!"

"You're only 20, yes you do."

Denise rolled her heavily made-up eyes of obsidian, sinking to the table with the two women.

"It's fine," Gabrielle said. She glanced over to the newcomer to the table, and promptly choked on her beer.

Arran glared at her, "Gab - you okay?"

She lifted a hand, hocking and coughing roughly, "Hang on," she croaked, taking a swig at her drink, "I'm fine."

Zena frowned at her best friend, bewilderment completing her heart-wrenching cocktail of depression and confusion. She leant to the younger woman, a soft frown on her features.

"Gabrielle, talk to me - are you okay?"

Gabrielle gave her a flat glance and looked back to the stage.

Arran patted Zena's shoulder, sliding over the two drinks the women had ordered. There was a sudden cheering as the lights went down and one went up on a guy at centre stage. Zena felt her heart fall with the lights, the opportunity to chat with Gabrielle being taken from her, an urge to wring the guy's neck very strong. Idiot Joxer. The light on him was white, pure, the spots on his band filtered and coloured. Gabrielle grinned wide and cheered wildly, Zena's heart stinging at the sound. As she glanced to Arran she saw his young goth relative lean over to him.

"That's the guy?"

Arran nodded, "Yup. This is The Bards."

Denise rose a brow and nodded idly as she stabbed her drink with a black shiny straw, "Cool."

He looked over to Zena. The woman's eyes were fixed on his, blue and gem-like as something in them rang whilst the sounds of the event around her seemed to make no impact. She managed to smile at him only slightly, looking down and battling tears after a moment. She glanced up again. Worry reflected back at the woman from the eyes of her newly become lover. She couldn't reassure him. She couldn't let herself pretend, not when something in her seemed to tremor at everything around her. She listened quietly to the band, their music rolling over her, familiarity building within her. Every thump of her heart send a shockwave around her, everywhere she looked something begged to be remembered, aching through the agony of the rift between her and her best friend. Something in that rift recalled something deep, something lasting, it frightened her beyond reproach.

Her eyes met that of her best friend, gazing adoringly to the man on stage. His gaze back to the crowd, so filled with love... Her breaths filled with a tight fear.  Gabrielle clapped suddenly, looking to her best friend. Zena felt the tears brim her eyes, blurring her vision. Gabrielle frowned a little, her clapping ending short.

"Zena..."

"Oh! Jock's fan club has an extra member!"

Shit! Just as she gets a word out of her! Zena narrowed her eyes, turning to meet the brown eyes of Callista, glaring at her blackly. The orbs of the woman in front of her, body swathed in fishnet and pleather, were hollow, sad, and she could see an animal trapped and resorting to routine gazing back at her. But Callista was no animal. Anger errupted in her, sweeping away her disorientation.

"What's your problem?" muttered Denise, lighting a cigarette. Callista fluttered heavy-lashed eyes at Denise.

"Obviously not the same as yours," Callista said, the lack of enjoyment of her heckling evident in her hollow expression, "So who died?"

Gabrielle shook her head absently, impatience in her features mingled with pain, "Callisto, go find your fun elsewhere."

Zena's heart stopped, and she glared at Gabrielle, her lips dropping the name like a hot potato, "C- Callisto?" The name stung her somehow, the pain that was already inside crushing her like a wave.

Gabrielle's eyes grew wide as she glanced around her. Callista too had wide eyes, a frown on her face.

"What did you call me?"

"Oh - me and the history channel!" Gabrielle chuckled, "I meant Callista - I've been watching too many shows on Mythology! Silly!" Her eyes floated over to Zena.

Zena felt blank, confusion painting every emotion with the same broad clumsy brush, the world rocking uneasily as gravity pulled her heart down to her feet. She felt pulled from the reverie as a strong hand grabbed hers, yanking her from the table. She blinked, realising who it was.

"Arran - what are you doing?"

"You look sick," he said flatly, glancing to Denise and nodding as he pulled Zena with him out of the club.

"No! Arran! I have to talk to Gabrielle!"

"Zena!"

The voice of Gabrielle cut through the noise of the night-club but faded as Arran urged Zena on.

"Tomorrow," he said, the look in his eyes not forceful or cruel, rather haunted and scared. He gripped her strongly, stronger than she'd ever known him to hold her, all her strength resulting in the useless flapping of limbs in the disgraceful display of man dragging woman from bar. Blurs of colour and moment smudged past Zena's eyes, nothing making sense, nothing understood... just a hollow unending chasm of agony opening up before her, ready to take her down into it, despite her ache to escape it.

Denise glared at the woman gaping at the scene across the table from her. Gabrielle breathed brokenly, her chest tight with fear and regret, her hands quivering at her glass of beer. What the hell just happened? Gabrielle tried to calm, find reason in the moment. Her anger towards Zena had flitted away at the tears she'd seen in her eyes. Callista looked between the two women, her own eyes filling with tears.

"I um - I gotta go..." The blonde punk wagged her hands with a little desperation, her eyes to the brim with a similar fear. She threw herself into the crowd, "Get out of my WAY!"

Denise looked to Gabrielle, shaking her head slow, "Good one, Gabrielle."

Gabrielle looked to Denise, her heart shrinking back in her chest.

"What?" she murmured.

Denise shook her head again, pulling out a mobile phone and stabbing at it, "You may have just fucked everything, little girl."

"Little-" Gabrielle frowned, "You're younger than me..."

"Ha," Denise said putting the phone to her ear, "You wish," She shifted her attention to the voice down the phone, "Yeah hi. No. Get bent! Problems, big ones. The Annoying Bimbo apparently knows. Yeah - she just gave the whole thing away! Said Psycho-Barbie's name in front of her. Ye-ha! Well what do *you* suggest?! Whatever - I'll meet you there." Denise pressed off the phone and shoved it into her bag, glaring at Gabrielle. "It's nice that you remember who you were, really, but honestly! Some of us don't have the luxury of a free ride of a life like you do."

Gabrielle frowned again, confusion filling her, "You... you know?"

"Yeah of course," the girl huffed, "I've been pretending to be mortal for the past 5000 years, of course I know. Gotta run - have to fix up this damned mess you made. Seeya."

Gabrielle watched the dark slinky woman stalk from the club. Looking down to the table she sat at, she saw the half-finished drinks, still burning cigarettes and lingering perfumes of her friends, and loneliness engulfed her. She glanced to the stage. Joxer leant at the microphone, oblivious to anything but the music. Gabrielle felt a sob rising within her, and grabbing her purse she ran to the stage, bouncing below the mic with eyes filled with tears.

The brown calm eyes of Joxer opened and he smiled only briefly at Gabrielle before seeing her distress. Worry flashed across his face and he glanced to the band-members, mouthing to them before singing another line and tapping his foot nervously. He kept singing, fingers shaking at the fret. Gabrielle bobbed up and down some, tears spilling hot down her face.

With a nod, the man looked to Andrew who picked up the tune as Joxer bent over to Gabrielle.

"What?"

"Zena - she's - I stuffed up Joxer! I think she's remembering who she is. And I saw Discord - she yelled at me! Something is going on, Joxer, something serious!"

Joxer glanced helplessly back at the stage, and jumping up he grinned at the crowd. He looked to Andrew, leaping over to him and shouting in his ear. Andrew glared at him angrily, and Joxer obviously begged at him, his body bending in a comically subserviant position. Andrew rolled his eyes, nodding, pointing an index finger at him. As the song finished up, Joxer leapt to the microphone, grinning again.

"Hi everyone! Well, Andrew is going to finish the set - my sister is having her baby and I'm the Godfather." He swallowed and waved, "Seeya!"

Without another word he pulled off the guitar that he wore, placing it down and leaping off the stage. Gabrielle joined him as the rushed out the door.

Chapter Seven
Cosmic Repercussions Make for Good Discussion

Arran was silent as he lead her into his apartment, Zena pliant and distant, quietly devastated. She frowned at him, watching him close the door to the apartment, putting the locks into place. She sank onto the couch, her heart numb beyond comprehension.  Something was so close... something. Everything had been a something of late, and she was sick of that vagueness. And Arran knew, she could see it in his every movement, in the fear in his eyes. He knew exactly what was worrying her, what had shocked Callista so much, what Gabrielle was hiding. Hiding... something was being hidden. She knew when Gabrielle was lying, and she was lying now. Why the hell she was covering - this secret something - up with Ancient Greek Mythology was not as mystifying to her as she wanted it to be. It all felt too close to her soul. Arran disappeared to his kitchen, pulling out mugs and tea.

"Arran..." Her voice was wavering, fearful.

"Hmm?"

"You know what's going on..."

There was an abrupt clatter of a teaspoon falling to the floor, and the man emerged from the doorway. "I didn't know there was anything going on."

She jumped up, anger ripping through her, "You do! Something is going on here, don't lie to me."

Arran closed his eyes, running a hand through is short cropped hair, "I don't - I'm not. Trust me on this okay? Nothing is going on."

He was so scared, she could sense it clearly. How could he even begin to believe she couldn't feel that? She shook her head, standing and approaching him.

"I've fought opposite you for years. I know when you're going to attack. I know when you'll lunge. I read you like an open book, Arran. And you-" She pressed her lips together, fighting tears, "You expect to say 'I don't, I'm not' and NOT mean it, and get me to believe you?! What kind of fool do you think I am?!"

Arran sighed, lifting his hands to touch her.

"No!" she said, jumping back and lifting her hands, "Don't fucking touch me, not until you damn well tell me what's going on! Gabrielle knows something - you know something! Am I dying or something - what?!"

Arran's eyes were large, his eyes to the brim with the wetness of tears. In all the years she'd known him, she'd rarely see a genuine emotion from him other than lust. It shook her, seeing the sadness resounding in him, disappointment and shame. "I can't..." He shook his head, "I love you."

"Yeah yeah yeah," she waved a hand, glaring at him, "If you love me then damn well fill me IN!"

A tear spilled down over an elegant cheek, his lips shaking a little. Swallowing, his throat bobbing, he turned and went back into the kitchen. Anger inside her crashed into the agony of suspicion. The idea of any of her close friends keeping anything from her tore her to pieces.

"Arran..."

Nothing. She grit her teeth, spinning around and running to the door. She had to get out of here, try to collect herself, try to patch herself up enough to try to sort out why the hell the world was turning against her.

"Zena-"

She slammed the door on him, and it felt good. Her feed pounded the corridor carpeting as she escaped to the lift swiftly, trying to keep herself composed. If she had to collapse into a balling mess of melodramatics, she may as well do it somewhere quiet and dark and mellow.

Denise bolted up the corridor of the plush inner city apartment, ignoring the security guard racing up behind her. It had taken her long enough to get here, hopefully she would be home so she wouldn't get hitched up by this guard on her ass.

"GET BACK HERE!" the burly guard shouted, "This is a PRIVATE BUILDING!"

"And I'm a private PERSON buddy!" she snarled, "Now piss off!"

"You're not supposed to be here without checking in to the front desk and getting an okay from the resident!"

"Bite me!" she spat, knocking on the door of the apartment roughly. She swore as silence followed.

"Ms. Ioulianos is not in tonight, and if you want to meet her you'll have to go to the book signings like every other girl!"

"Dite!!" she shouted into the door, thumping on it, "Come out here you GREEK BIMBO!"

The guard caught up, grabbing the young woman's arms and grappling her backwards from the door.

"LegGOAMEEEE!!! She's my cousin you JERK!"

"Yeah! OW! She's everyone's cousin girly! Shit! Stop hitting me!"

The white door so recently abused swung open, the face of the ex-Goddess of Love hung in shock. On the floor of the corridor in front of her was a knot of kacki uniform and black fishnet limbs, the guard swearing as Denise laid into him with fists embellished with large silver rings.

"Woah! Denise! OFF!"

Denise shrank back, her teeth grit in rage, her black eyes flashing at the guard. Aphrodite sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Stanley, for future notice - this is my cousin Denise. Go get stitches for that gash..."

Holding a hand to his profusely bleeding forehead, Stanley the guard nodded fractionally, "I'm sorry miss I thought-"

"Get fucked," Denise snarled and stomped inside the apartment.

Aphrodite sighed, scratching behind her ear, her hair in wet draggled locks and her body clothed in a silky pink bath-robe, "Wait here Stan." Re-emerging she stuffed a couple of notes in his front pocket, "Sorry."

"It's okay," he said in a wavering voice, "I'm going to go home now..."

She nodded, rolling her eyes and closing the door behind her. Leaning against the inside of the door, she glared at the pacing girl in the main of her living area, bedecked in white and pink marble and rather Grecian decor. On the wall above her fireplace hung a replica of Botacelli's "Birth of Venus".

"What in Daddy's name is your problem, Denise?" she cried, folding her arms, "Why you gotta beat everyone up all the time?"

Denise glared at her as she strode past her and into her bedroom, "The guy was gonna escort me out of the building, in case you didn't NOTICE!"

"Yeah yeah yeah," the blonde called from her room, "You know you're supposed to buzz in at the front desk."

"No one was THERE!"

"Whatever," came the sighed reply, "So what's happened since you called?"

"Arran just grabbed Zena and yanked her right out of there. Zena was in some piss with Gabrielle I think. Serves them right, stupid jerks."

Aphrodite sighed as she strolled back in, resplendant in jeans and tight-fitting pink t-shirt, towelling off her hair with annoyance in her eyes, "Where is she now?"

"With Ar, I assume," said Denise.

Aphrodite blinked, "You mean you didn't follow them to make sure?"

"I had to meet you!" Denise retorted, "No Goddess powers, honey, I can't just zap around the place remember?!"

"God," Aphrodite shook her head, "This is so messed up!" She rubbed her brow then squinched her nose at Denise, "So does Zena actually *know* or..."

"She's figuring it out," said Denise, "It's not gonna take long for her to have 2, find 2, make five and get totally whacked out."

"Shit."

"My words exactly," Denise said, "And if she rings true to her former self she'll chuck a complete thrombo at Arran..."

"And when Arran is hurt," murmured Aphrodite.

"He hurts himself and other people," Denise finished darkly.

Aphrodite's brows pushed down in determination, perfectly manicured hands grabbing Denise and pushing her to the door, "Come on! We gotta find Arran and Zena, fix this up! You find Zena."

Discord whined, "Oh God, Why me?"

Aphrodite held up a thumb and forefinger to silence her as she grabbed her phone and began to thumb in a number. Denise rolled her eyes, crossing her arms impatiently.

"Yello... hey bro! Just checkin' up on ya sweety. Wassup? Why not, I'm your sister, you're supposed to talk to me. You mean you're all there on your lonesome? Aww..." She looked to Denise, her blue eyes sparkling with worry, "Well what about Zena, I thought you'd be hanging out with her. Oh. Right. Well- you didn't chase her? You jerk! Of course you chase her - that's why people walk out of places, so they can be followed! Yeah well - No no no. I'm - no it's okay - you look for her silly. Okay. Seeya."

She dropped the phone down onto it's reciever, shaking her head darkly, "Shit."

Denise widened her eyes in question, "What?"

"Zena walked out of his place."

"Did he say why?" asked Denise.

"He refused to tell her what Gabrielle was hiding. She figured it out that far I guess," Aphrodite shook her head and sighed.

"Shit," Denise sighed back, "If I know Ar, and I so do, he is probably so freaked out right now."

Aphrodite nodded, tagging Denise's arm and pulling her out the door, "Come on!"

"What - where are we going?"

"You're finding Zena and I'm catching up with Arran."

Denise stomped a foot and snarled, "Wh- Why do I get Zena?"

"Duh!" Aphrodite rolled her eyes as she locked her door, "Zena knows you!"

"Oh..."

When she sang that night, for some reason beyond her she felt hollow. The peals of self importance she had been armed with all those years had been wrenched away with a name... Callisto. So close to hers, but something in that bard's tone of voice, the way her green eyes flashed with detest, the protective grimace of Zena so close by, something snapped within her, and the agony that had hidden within her all those thousands of years crashed down upon her shoulders.
She cradled her tumbler of vodka and lemon, swigging it, enjoying the wracking abuse it laid on her tongue and mouth, self hatred building within her past any level she'd ever known. She barely noticed the black wraith-like figure floating into the bar, careening over to her with a dangerous speed.

"Has Zena been here?"

Callista looked up, her eyes slow and brimming, "No."

Denise scowled at her, "You figured out what your problem is yet?"

The blonde woman gave a hollow laugh and shook her head, "Nope."

"Gods' balls," muttered Denise darkly, "It's been thousands of years girly, can't you figure it out?"

Callista glowered at the goth and shrugged, "Tricky problem, it's taking me some time."

"Yeah, whatever," shrugged the dark girl back at her, "I'm outty."

"Hey..."

Denise turned at the call of the blonde. A chill went through Denise as she saw the large brown orbs of the woman that called her. She could remember the delirious madness, scathing hatred that lived in there before. Now there was something far, far more dangerous.

"You don't want Xena to know who she was," she said, "Only because she's useful to you. Is that really fair?"

Denise snorted, "Shit I don't care if it is or not."

"I do," she said, running her finger under her chin as she gazed at a Budd-lite advertisement glowing in blue steadiness, "She's fucked me over so many times, I've lost count, dear."

Denise just watched the woman stare off, her eyes growing sharp.

"I think she should know the truth, don't you? Know who she's fucking, who she's not fucking. Know who she killed... who she didn't kill... who she tortured and despised."

Denise rose a brow, "If I remember rightly, she spat you out between her legs and had you latch onto her tits for ages too, bitch, so stop yer whining and move on already."

At that Denise turned, striding from the bar.

Callista blinked, her brows knitting with confusion. She sank her head down onto her arms, running her fingers deep into her knotted blonde locks.

"Great show tonight Callistaa!" howled someone as the staggered past and patted her roughly on the back. Amongst their hollering, they didn't hear the soft sob that fell from her.

The car sped down the freeway, the one elegant hand at the wheel steering stiffly. In the other hand a cell phone was thumbed at as it glowed in the dark. The blonde at the wheel held the phone to her ear, taking the other hand back to the steering wheel.

"Denise? Hi, yep. No he wasn't home. Looking for Zena. Look I'm going to go talk to Daddy, see if he knows any more about this Purgatory deal and stuff. Yep. Really? Cool! Yeah what a dog. Yep! Seeya!"

She thumbed off the phone, dropping it in the passenger seat, frowing at the turn off sign ahead.

"Shit," she sighed, "Nearly missed it."

With a quick swerve she headed down the highway.

The family home wasn't too far off the turn-off. The sizeable house, trimmed with white pillars and stately palisades, loomed lightly in the darkened distance, punctuated with the glow of old yellow garden lights. As she entered the gate out the front, she spared a wave to the security guard, driving faster as she entered the estate. Screeching to a halt at the front door she jumped out, running up the needlessly numerous steps. The door swung open, a maid looking incredibly distressed.

"Miss Aphrodite!" the lady gasped in a strong hispanic accent, "Why you drive so crazy?!"

"Sorry Carla," she said soothingly, patting the woman's shoulder, "Gotta talk to my Papa-"

As she said that, the looming man stood at the base of large marble stairs that wound up to the rest of the house, rooms to the sides being fitted with gleaming statues of Gods and Goddesses of Ancient Rome and Greece. Aphrodite frowned at the man in the deep purple nightgown over a set of black pyjamas.

"Aphrodite," he said, his voice crisp and well spoken, "I assume you have a reason for hurtling yourself down our driveway like a madwoman?"

She nodded, tucking a short lock of her hair behind her ear, "Yeah Daddy - I mean yes - yes Father."

He rose a heavy brow, "Well?"

"Dad - what's going on with Ares? I mean really... this whole Purgatory stuff. Why does he have that looming over his head and we don't?"

The man sighed, rubbing the flesh of the bridge of his nose tiredly, "Aphrodite, it's really something you shouldn't intrude into-"

"He's my brother and I love him!" she said, "Therefore I'm not intruding at all!"

The man dropped a hand at his side, shaking his head, "Come on dear," he said, holding out his hand, "Come into the library - I'll show you something."

He led her up the stairway, their footsteps echoing off the walls of the elegant manor. The theme of white gleaming marble and blood-red drapes was all through the corridors of the estate, a blatant expression of what they were, of thier true nature that belied them. She followed him into his wood-panelled library, walls to the brim with bookshelves filled with old leather bound volumes of deep maroon and green, blue and tawny brown. On one bookcase hundreds upon hundreds of scrolls were shelved away in neat rows, encased in clear containers and labelled underneath with little stickers. Aphrodite eyed them warily, knowing her father's rule of nobody reading them but their three Great Aunts; Clara, Agatha and Lauren. What was so special about those weirdo's, Aphrodite long forgot. Immortality was like that, you remembered less and less as time got on and forgot more than you realised. It took long hours of pondering to actually remember things from that time. She treasured her time as a Goddess, thusly she wrote much about it, saving it away before they were cast from the Realm of Olympus by the new God. She forgot much after that. It was painful, and remembering those things cost good memories, and she treasured those much more.

"Sit down," muttered the handsome old man, motioning to a stained glossy leather divan. Dite nodded, taking a seat, watching her Father walk over the the scroll cases, pulling one out gingerly. He sat down next to her carefully, patting her hand gently. "Dear girl... you were always one of my favourite daughters. So bright and joyous. I loved having you around me always."

Aphrodite rose a brow, "Really?"

He nodded, "Yes. Athena was always so serious. Sometimes I needed a laugh."

"Oh," Aphrodite shrugged, "Thanks I guess."

"This - this thing with your brother," he said, shaking his head dourly, "It was a problem long before we ever fell from Olympus. He was a good child, a loving and passionate son, but War tainted him far beyond even I imagined."

Aphrodite felt her heart sink a little, "I - I forgot he didn't always use to be a WarGod."

"Yes," he nodded, "He was a boy, no idea of his future. Of course even then he was a little shit at times, I'll never forgive him for widdling on my Olympian Grape Vines and killing them all."

A giggle fell from the blonde woman, clasping an elegant hand to her mouth, "Oh my GOD! I remember that!! HEEhehe! Up until then we thought *nothing* could destroy that thing!"

The man smiled, nodding, sadness growing in his eyes.

"Jésus darling - who was at the-"

The door opened at the echoing voice, the tall regal visage of Hera filling the doorway.

"Oh... Aphrodite dear," she floated over in a long gown, kissing her daughter on the cheek, "Everything okay?"

'Jésus' looked to her with dark eyes, a smile on his face clearly for show, "I'll speak to you about it later darling."

Hera nodded, patting her daughter on the cheek before turning to the door, her ice blue eyes sparkling, "I'll be baking cookies in the kitchen."

A chill ran through Aphrodite as she watched her mother go, "Baking cookies? At a time like this?"

"She likes it," said Jésus, "She's always liked it."

Aphrodite shook her head roughly, trying to clear her thought, "Dad - back to Ares."

"Yes," he nodded, opening the glass canister, "When we were cast to immortality, it was under the premise that eventually we would improve ourselves to the point where we could rise up back to God, to reunite ourselves with the great energy. Avatars always have a limited time as vision of worship, and we were included. We ascend the spiritual planes till we had dealt with our own mistakes, our own misgivings, in which we made other people suffer for. As a punishment for that cruel behaviour, we were all under the Time of Purgatory, when we were given time to improve ourselves, and until that improvement was made, we would always have the threat of being cast to Purgatory."

Aphrodite choked, "What - we ALL WERE?"

Zeus nodded, "All of us."

"Oh my God," Aphrodite gasped, "That's bullshit!"

Zeus shrugged a shoulder.

"So like, we aren't anymore?"

"Most of you were well-behaved enough and good enough to have improved yourselves past that point. Even Discord and Strife learnt a few lessons in that time that made them better people," Zeus sighed, "You know Ares wasn't always the most well behaved of us-"

"Yeah but he'd been doing the WarGod thing for years and years! Millenia!" Aphrodite complained suddenly, "It was his JOB to make wars happen and stuff! And suddenly stopping? He needed time to get used to being a good guy again."

He nodded, "You are right. He was preordained to that role, and as such was doomed to a life of darkness and death. However his life as an immortal following his sacrifice of Godhood is what God is judging, through his eyes and ears and voice."

"Clara, Agatha and Lauren," finished Aphrodite.

"Precisely," nodded Zeus.

Aphrodite fell a growing well of worry inside her. Those three nutsos? Judging Ar? This was sounding worse and worse by the minute, "Well - what do they say? Have you gone to see them lately?"

"I saw them this month previous," he said, rolling up the scroll and slipping it back into the canister, "They say he has until the next cosmic flux."

The ex-Goddess winced, "That sounds rude."

Zeus gave her a flat look and sighed, "The next cosmic flux is the next moment of flux in the flow of energy in the cosmos, namely-"

"Full moon!" growled Aphrodite, "Daddy! That's only two days away!"

Jésus shrugged, getting up slowly to slip the canister back to it's cavity in the wall.

"But-" Aphrodite jumped up, stomping over to him, "He doesn't even know! How is he supposed to improve himself if-"
 

"That's the POINT Aphrodite," Zeus interrupted, his firm voice booming around the room. He softened it, sighing long, "My dear, this isn't something you can help. Please... just accept it."

"No!" cried the blonde woman, "Dammit Daddy! He's been trying for the past few thousand years - is it his fault if he's been bummed about a chick he lost? Cause that's his problem - he's been jonesing for Xena all that time. And don't tell me you never fell for a mortal chick!"

"I have," Zeus said, "And like a proper God, I got over it."

"PFfft!" Aphrodite flapped her arms angrily, "What a load of bullshit."

His heavy brows descended, "Aphrodite..."

"No, I'm out of here," she said, storming to the door, "Maybe Mom might have her wits about her."

She slammed the door behind her, knowing that her father wasn't the kind of man to go chasing after her to calm her down. King of Inaction, she liked to call him. All he cared about was the big stuff. Things that affected the rest of the world. The life of his son was rather inconsequential in the scheme of things apparently.

"Mooom!"

The swinging door of the kitchen was up ahead, and she slapped it open, her open-ended heel-less shoes flapping lightly on the tile floor.

"Mom?"

Hera turned from a bowl of batter, a smile brightening her high-boned features, "Aphrodite, how are you sweety?"

Aphrodite frowned, her eyes flashing in desperation, "Daddy's a useless prick!"

Hera blinked and shook her head slowly, "Now now, darling. He has his reasons for everything."

"He's gonna let Ares be cast to Purgatory! Not even warn him about what's coming!"

"It isn't his choice alone," she said, turning back to the batter in front of her, "Perhaps a few thousand years in torment will do the boy some good."

"WHAT?" Aphrodite exclaimed, "God - you guys are fucking crazy! This is Ares we're talking about here Mom. Your SON!"

Hera's frame sank, and as she turned her head Aphrodite saw her eyes rimmed with the redness of unshed tears, "Dear, it isn't up to me. It's up to your Father and your Great Aunts as to how he is dealt with. You just have to accept it. I'm baking cookies."

She turned back to the cookie bowl, attacking it with a wooden spoon as she poured in some flour. Aphrodite shook her head, trying not to stagger, and with a huff she ran from the kitchen, across the foyer of the mansion, her frantic flapping steps echoing through the cold marble building. Shapes of perfectly muscled bodies, elegant curls of marble tresses, the falling drapery of a time long gone flashed past her, and her heart seized in pain. Ashamed... she was so ashamed. How could she be a part of this, a part of a people who cared so little? The hot wet splash of tears shocked her from sombreness, an urgency pushing her out the door, into her car and onto the long smooth highway back to Arran's home.

Moonlight was a funny thing. It was cool, yet it's light, however blue, nearly always warmed a scene. Never would it be so bright that it could hurt the eye, yet it's reflection of the rippling lake in front of her seemed as bright and crisp as daylight. She hugged her jacket to her, watching the ripples play and dance with the moonlight, creating brilliant shapes in the water and create a glip-glopping song of water against earth. A small stream that ran from man-made lake to man-made lake trickled and sang along with it, it's tune far more spritely.

The only other sounds she could hear was the conversation of crickets hiding in the grass around her, and the odd skitter of night animals travelling from tree to tree. Traffic hummed in the distance, whispering and hushing to the odd hooting call of revelers nearby.

It was so very different. She didn't know how, she didn't know why. It just was. Slowly, like waking from a wonderful dream to an awful reality and not quite waking properly, she felt a complete disorientation. She wasn't sure if what she knew to be completely real was actually real or whether there was something else she was supposed to be, that she was supposed to remember. Flux - it was the only word she could use to describe her mental state. She sighed, thinking to Arran's reaction of that name... 'Callisto'. He was scared. The man was terrified, she could see it. He was so damned complex, and she knew now there was definitely more to him than she ever imagined. The very thought burned hot inside her, her heart swelling at the thought of him. Barely a day as his love and all she could think of was getting back to him and continuing that role. She snorted at herself. What had she become? Hankering for Arran of all people?! She hadn't known him before now, though, not like this. Something changed as she let down her guard. His eyes charmed her, his lips softened her resolve. The rumble of his deep tones proclaiming love had won her absolutely.

She felt only partially conscious as a scuffle happened beside her, a hand grabbing her arm and something sharp contacting her throat.

"Okay lady," husked the teenage voice, "Hand over whatever you got!"

"Oh that ain't nice," She sighed, grabbing his hand and crushing the flesh between his thumb and palm. As she looked to him, she saw his dark eyes widen and water at the steel grip she had on his flesh. Rising to meet him she pushed him back, whirled him about and kicked him in the backside, the boy rushing headlong into the lake from the momentum. He cried out helplessly as he fell into the cold chilly water, the splash causing even more intricate and delightful patterns with the moonlight.

"Oh, you made a big mistake!" hollered the young man, staggering out of the water, rushing her headlong as he brandished his pocket-knife.

Zena eyed the glint of the blade in the moonlight. The world cracked, stopped, flashed. Her heart thumped wildly, her hands shuddering.

"AAAUGH!!!"

The boy stopped, his eyes widening as he saw the woman's body arc up, tensing, falling backwards onto the grass as she writhed, clutching her head.

"NO!" she sobbed, rolling over, crawling along the ground, "NO please!!"

The boy slowed, stepping from foot to foor in a cocky swagger, "You - you think that's gonna stop me lady? I don't think so - hand over your fucking money before I spill your guts on the floor."

Zena's eyes grew cold as she glared at the boy, teeth glinting as she grit them, "You better run, little boy, or you'll be very very sorry."

The teen sauntered forward, waving the knife in front of her, "Sorry eh? What are you gonna do - pinch me again?"

"I'll - AGH!" she staggered, holding her skull, pain cracking through it, "Oh I'll do a lot worse than that..."

"Try me," the teen said, jutting his chin forward, "Go on!"

He met her acid glare and paled a little. He'd never seen such a look in his life, and he stepped back as she advanced, fists clenched. She lifted one hand, her two forefingers pointing. It came as a frightening instinct when she jabbed at his neck, a terrible crack filling the night air. She heard a grunting in the darkness, and moving the boy into the moonlight, he saw the veins in his neck and head bulging grotesquely.

"Oh - Uh," She pointed her fingers, jabbing again desperately, instantly creating a similar crack that threw the boy backwards. He scrawled along the ground, gathering up his knife, glaring at the woman in fear. "Get out of here," she breathed, pointing at him unsteadily.

"I'm going!" he wailed, "Sheesus lady!!"

Her eyes were wide, her body trembling as she watched the boy stagger to his feet, running for dear life out of the park. As she watched, a sliding of pain fell through her, seizing her and wracking her suddenly with another jolt. She arced again, rolled, trying to stop the barrage of memories that flooded her again, anyway she could. No. Gabrielle - oh Gabrielle - Joxer... no she didn't want to remember, she wanted to forget - too much it was too much pain. NO!!! She felt the air from the cool night rushing into her lungs, her body arcing back in rage as the weight of the lives of so many bore down on her bones. Her life, this life, so free. So free!! Why?! Why did she have this robbed? Oh she was so tired... so tired of the sadness. She didn't want to go back to that. Never again.. oh never again!

"No," she shook her head, her body curling into a ball, "Oh God... Nooo."

Her words ended in a sobbing whimper, her fingers sinking into her hair... she felt an isolation become her, the cool night becoming suddenly cold.

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