Chapter Eight
The Song of the Warrior Princess

He lay there, staring at the ceiling, the full volume of what had happened that night previous sinking in slowly. His heart wallowed about like a walrus on an iceberg, and feeling about as cold, the pain there biting into him relentlessly. He'd done it. Again. And this time, he had her on a clean slate, no wars no nothing. He'd pushed her away, but damn it all, he couldn't bear losing her. And now, he had done it, he'd lost her, again.

Millenia... he actually waited for a broad for THOUSANDS of years. He sat here, in a bed, gazing at a white painted ceiling with a black tacky ceiling fan, without her. Five thousand fucking years and no woman beside him to show for it. Thousands of kids, no woman. No love. No real love. No love you say "Oh Mommy, I'm gonna marry her and name our first daughter after Gramma" love. It was "You better get out before the cleaning lady gets here, she freaks at naked women" love. He hated it, he'd had more than enough.

That's it Ares, he thought, You're a fucking failure. The hot wet of a tear trailed down his eye, past the top of his cheek and into his ear, settling uncomfortably there. Never in his endless life did he feel so... alone. So achy. So hollow. He felt a shell, nothing. Not even a shell. A shell had structure, could exist alone. He felt like he could crumple at any minute.

He sighed painfully, covering his face in his hands, rubbing away angrily and staying with the same dead quiet bedroom, the same aching soul. He rolled over, looking at the bed-clock. Eight a.m. in the morning. What in all the Gods' names was he doing up at this hour? On a Sunday?

Of course. The phone had rung, but he couldn't find the phone. He'd thrown it around the place after Zena had stormed out. Oh, pain - ow. Again. He rolled off the bed, onto the floor, looking under the bed. Oh man... black lacy underwear... Zena's fifty dollar broken lacy underwear. He pulled it out, clutching it like a lifeline, frowning at it's silky texture. Oh ... fuck. He felt tears cascading down his cheeks. Oh you great pansy, he chided himself, blubbering like a baby over a woman. Another voice joined in... Five thousand years man!! FIVE thousand!

He dropped the panties on his bed, spotting the phone discarded in the corner, the shiny black of it poking out from under some pleather pants. Shiny and black of course... no wonder he'd missed it. He picked it up, stumbling to the phone to put it on the hook.

BRRT!

He clutched the phone, nearly jumping in fright but thankfully restraining himself. He pulled it to his ear.

"Yeah."

"Arran," the female voice down the phone sounded deeply concerned, "Gods. Joxer and me have been looking for Zena all night - have you seen her?"

He frowned, his heart stopping, "You mean - she's not at home?"

There was a brief silence, "Is there a reason Zena would be at home?"

"No," Arran shook his head, rubbing grogginess from his mind, "No no, it's just - " he sighed, "She walked out of here last night, she didn't tell me where she was going."

"Well," He heard the soft swearing of Gabrielle down the phone, "Shit, Arran! Didn't you think to stop her?"

"It's Zena," he said, "She can flatten me under 30 seconds."

"Grrrr!" Gabrielle's voice shuddered down the phone, "You didn't even TRY?"

He went quiet, "I didn't want her to see me um.. crying."

"Oh..." Another spot of quietness fell, till Gabrielle gave a decisive huff, "Well we're coming over - checking that park you guys train at sometimes. Stay there!"

Oh great. Girlfriend missing and she wants him to stay put. "Gabrielle, Zena is missing and you expect me to sit around and twiddle my thumbs?!"

The girl gave an impatient sigh, "She might just come BACK to your place."

"Good point."

"Right," Gabrielle agreed, "Look we really gotta go and find Zena. Seeya, and don't GO anywhere!"

Before he could protest the sound of the phone receiver being hung up clicked irritatingly in his ear. He frowned at the phone. His heart plummetted as he gathered his thoughts together. Oh God... maybe someone tried to hurt her last night or, someone caught her off guard cause she was angry or upset. Then it'd be his fault. And anything could have happened... Zena's the most beautiful woman on the earth, they'd surely try to take advantage of her and... he gripped the receiver in his hand, and looking down he noticed he'd been pacing like a mad-man. Okay, Ar, okay, get a grip man. He sighed, pressing the phone receiver to his forehead in thought. Where is she... Gabrielle said the park. Brilliant little button. Of course the park. Maybe - what would she be doing there now? Last night maybe but...

Why the hell were they worrying so much? Maybe she was at the local 24/7 grabbing a few buckets of icecream or something... or maybe... Maybe Zena had figured it out. Angry warlord woman in 21st Century Los Angeles. Ho crap. Crap crap. Arran thumbed at the handset he held, his eyes ringing in tight anxiety.

"Hey - Dite. It's not too early. I don't care how much sleep you missed out on cause a' me. Zena's missing. Right. Not at home. No I already thought of that. She prefers yogurt anyway. Listen - you know the park near my place? Can you check that for me? Please? I know it's a drive. Well I wanna be here if she comes back. Yeah she walked out. Well she was angry I didn't - I already talked to the annoying blonde about this I don't wanna talk to another one about it AGAIN okay? I don't know WHY I let her go, I froze! Just get in your damned CAR!! Now would be a good time... THANK you!" He slammed down the phone, shaking his head, "Fucking woman."

He sighed, turning to his kitchen to make a strong coffee.

The lake was the same as it was the night before, the light dancing on it's surface now brighter and golden. The exact same lake seemed to glow with a euphoric glee that it was a bright summer morning, forgetting that only the night before it wallowed in the sombre dark hues of night. It's joy of the new day reflected in the slate-blue pools of her eyes, where tears had streamed but now dried up to leave an exhausted soul.

It had taken a while... not too long, considering how long ago it had been... but rushing and cramming her mind were the details she wished she never knew. Each emotion, each agony. Each joy and elation, each tear and wrench. Each flush of affection, each broken peice of dejection. Her life of destiny that made her a brazen warrior left her fighting to be upright on the park bench, fighting to shrug of the desolation she felt. Reality kept washing in on her however, and the daunting truth remained. She had been a killer. It ate at her, guilt built up in her, tainting her far beyond she could cope with. The hanging weight filled her, tinting everything inside her with a dull depression. Most of the night she remembered crying. Heaven. Her life had been heaven before this... she never knew. A long sob fell from her again, a hand wiping away tears. Why... why did it have to turn out like this? And of all the things to feel when waking up to - yes waking - to this truth... love! For another killer! Worse than her! A cruel, viscious... oh no she couldn't - she couldn't think that it hurt. It hurt so much.

"There she is!"

She looked up as the voice floated past her, double glancing at the vision she saw. She felt herself standing, her heart rising at a giddy speed.

"Gab!" she breathed, stepping forward, a light smile brightening her face.

The writer ran through the park, her long honey-red hair whipping behind her in whispy swirls as she hugged a dark brown woollen jacket to her body, hand in hand with a tall lanky fellow she knew too well. Her face was a vision of worry, a flash of a smile reassuring the woman as they grew close. The two slowed down, their breaths filling the silence as the panted.

"Gabrielle..."

Her lips moved around the word slowly, making sure she didn't disappear from in front of her. She stepped forward, her brows tilting up, heart aching at the sight of the woman. Her eyes burned as tears welled, her hand reaching out to her friend's face. Gabrielle's eyes danced with affection, a deep knowing within them.

"I-" She stopped, a sob taking her, "I remember... I remember it-Oh God I missed you!" She pulled Gabrielle in, hugging her tightly, tears spilling down her face. She barely settled at the woman when she leapt to the man next to her, hugging him just as tight. "Joxer!"

"Xena," he smiled, "Hey..." The man patted her on the back, his smiles as riddled with relieved tears as hers.

"Oh God," she leant back, cradling his face in her hands and squishing it, "Oh you little - Gods! I missed you so much I missed you both!" She pulled them both to her again, hearing their joyful sobs, the warmth of their bodies together filling the void that had taken her.

"I missed you too," mumbled Joxer, a soft neediness in his voice, "I hated pretending to just have met you."

"Me too," Gabrielle said to Zena, "I mean - pretending that I just met Joxer in front of you."

Zena felt a laugh take her, rubbing at her nose, "Gods... now I know - now I know why you screwed him on the first night!"

Joxer blinked to Gabrielle, "You told her about that?"

Gabrielle snorted, "Duh."

Xena laughed again, her hands constantly caressing the faces of her best friends, "You guys... Oh I'm so glad... so glad to see you..."

Gabrielle smiled, a sadness in her teary eyes, "Are you okay? You looked -"

Xena sighed, interrupting her, shaking her head as she gazed at the lake. Despite the warm double embrace of her family the pain from the night returned to her. She swore to herself as tears spilled down her face... damn... being a damn fool in front of-

"Oh Gab," she sighed, shaking her head at the lake, feeling the arms of her friends wind around her, "I was a monster."

Joxer tightened his arm around Xena's shoulder, hugging her, "No! You weren't!"

"He's right," Gabrielle said steadily, "You were not a monster!"

"I was," she sobbed, rubbing at the itch of tears, "I killed innocent people, I killed not innocent people. I seduced, I took advantage of people-"

"You saved people," Gabrielle said, "You saved me! You saved Joxer. You brightened peoples lives. You were amazing, Xena. Absolutely amazing."

"Well, you know... You were a hero," said Joxer.

Xena glanced to Joxer as the words fell from his mouth, tears filling her eyes. "I don't deserve this life, Joxer."

Gabrielle sighed, "Don't you think God or whoever should be the judge of that? I mean it's been long enough!"

Xena shrugged, content between Gabrielle and Joxer, woven in their hugging arms in the bright summer morning. Her memories, so haunting and vivid, reached out for her spirit she wanted to be free, and again they sucked her down into her aching journey for redemption.

"I just - I can't do this. Not in good conscience... Live this life."

Gabrielle turned Xena's face to hers, meeting her gaze, "Xena... you deserve it. After the life we had - you deserve it so much."

An odd thought fell through Xena's mind. "How long did you know?"

Gabrielle frowned, "What?"

"How long," Xena repeated, "Did you know that you were, and I was - you know - us. How long?"

Gabrielle blinked, looking to Joxer, her voice rough as she spoke, "Since yesterday."

Xena felt herself grow pale, "You let me go out with Ares when you - you knew?"

Gabrielle held her face in her hands, shaking her head, "I didn't know Xena, I didn't know if it was even my business! I mean Christ! You couldn't even make up your mind if you liked him or not back in Greece! How the fuck am I supposed to know?!"

"Well I hit him every time I saw him! Didn't that give you a clue?!"

Joxer winced, raising his hands and stepping forward, "Guys..."

"Now you're blaming me?!" she cried, "Oh God, this is the BC all over again."

"I mean, you didn't have to stop me, just TELL me, ya know?"

Anger had spilled through Xena. The very thought of Gabrielle knowing, and not saying... it sickened her. And the realisation that she'd actually had sex with him the night before last... and the previous morning... afternoon... A hot flush of arousal ran through her from the memory, mingled with the sickening lurches of disgust... oh GODS!

"Guys-" Joxer stepped forward further, grabbing Gabrielle by her hooded coat and Xena by her black leather jacket and pulling them together, "This is not the way to reunite. You were crying and hugging each other not a minute ago..."

Xena looked to Joxer gazing at them with wide brown eyes, the gentle and oddly handsome face endearing her again... oh that sweet idiot. She smiled a little through the sadness soaked in her featuers, pulling him to her in a hug. She yanked Gabrielle to her.

"I'm sorry, I just-"

Gabrielle sighed, nodding, "I know..."

"I'm -" Xena swallowed, clenching her fists decisively, "I have to go see Ares, or Arran - or - whatever the fuck I'm calling him now."

Gabrielle nodded. Xena smiled, leaning forward and kissing the girl on the forehead firmly.

"I love you, Gabrielle."

A smile splashed on Gabrielle's features, "You too, Xena."

Xena smiled a brave smile to Joxer, "You too dopey." She gripped his hand, and with a skip and a turn she started off through the park. She hardened her heart as she approached the familiar flats. She had to when she saw Ares, she couldn't let his eyes, or his lips, or his voice, sway her. She had to be true to herself, finally. She had to be strong. She remembered all too well what he was capable of. What he used to be. This wasn't going to happen, not like this.

Gabrielle held onto Joxer as they watched Xena race across the park, hair twisting and flapping in the breeze. She hid in his warmth, a feeling of worry soaking into her.

"Joxer... do you think she's going to break up with him? Ares I mean?"

Joxer sighed, shrugging, cuddling Gabrielle, "I don't know Gab. I mean... she probably will by the sounds of things."

She nodded, kicking at the sod as she pouted, "I dunno... Arran doesn't seem that bad to me I mean... maybe he just looks like Ares and isn't Ares."

Joxer's eyes fell to Gabrielle's and he tilted his head with a doubtful quirk of his lips, "Gabby - trust me, it's Ares all right."

The bard sighed again, a sullen mope falling over her, "Crap. She was so happy with him, you could see it."

"Yeah," Joxer nodded, "Doesn't seem fair, really. She finally has a nice life and we ruin it for her."

"Gods," she said, "I feel so awful."

"Yo, blondie!"

Joxer blinked, turning with Gabrielle as they spotted a statuesque figure running to them across the park, breasts bouncing inside the small white t-shirt with a sparkling hot pink love heart across the front of it, jeans and white platform pumps completing the outfit. Gabrielle frowned, irritation in her eyes.

"My name is Gabrielle," she said irately, then blinked, "Oh my - Aphrodite?!"

The figure, now much closer, rolled her eyes and waggled her hands, "Hey yay, it's me."

Gabrielle gave a snort of amused incomprehension, "Wow..."

Aphrodite nodded, "Yeah it's wonderful. We can talk about this later - was that Xena I saw with you before?"

Joxer frowned, his brown eyes twinkling guardedly, "Why you wanna know?"

"Down boy," the woman said, "I wanna know for Ar, I've been looking for her all night."

Gabrielle glanced to Joxer, patting his arm, "She's going to see him now."

Aphrodite skewed a lip, pressing her finger to it in thought, "Maybe I can catch her or something..."

Curiosity swept through the bard. The Greek Gods... still around... this was too much. "Why? I mean - are you still a Goddess? Are you all doing your thing or..."

"God! I wish," laughed Aphrodite wryly, "Honey, we're just immortal. Avatars of the Big an' Mighty Powerful One, stuck here, but not pure enough for Heaven."

She tilted her head, regarding Aphrodite, "So, no powers?"

"Duh," Aphrodite rolled her eyes, "That's what immortal means - living forever. Doesn't include powers that I know of."

"Your sense of humour hasn't changed," mumbled Joxer. He cowered as the blonde ex-Goddess glared at him.

"Look, this is really fun but I have to catch Xena-"

"Why?" Gabrielle said, "You haven't told me yet."

"God!" Aphrodite stomped the ground in a childish expression of frustration, staggering a little as she lost her balance because of her outburst, "Gah! Damn- shoes!" She glanced up to the two lovers and scowled, "Xena will probably dump Ares now she knows who she is. This is just bad!" She turned around, beginning to trot off towards Arran's apartment building.

"Wait!"

Gabrielle ran up next to her, grabbing her arm, "So what?"

"Huh?" Aphrodite glanced to Gabrielle as she kept running, "Whaddaya mean 'so what'?"

"I mean - so what if she dumps him? Big deal!"

Aphrodite rolled her eyes, "I forgot you were so clueless. Ares is like - on probation, kay? He only has a little time before he gets thrown from the physical plane into Purgatory for being a shithead, okay? I really have to go!"

She sprang to a bolt, the ex-Goddess bouncing ridiculously across the feild of grass. Gabrielle slowed to a halt, shaking her head, Joxer skidding to a half next to her.

"Should we stop her?"

Gabrielle regarded the blonde woman running in the ridiculous shoes and sighed, "We'll - we'll go with her."

Joxer sighed, "Okay."

The door wasn't locked. She didn't bother knocking. Slowly, she eased open the door, the faint scent of his masculine cologne soaking her senses, the unique sound of the world in his apartment greeting her. The cars sounded a certain way from here. Far away, harmless. From his abode, the clouds were closer. The view over the city was flighty. The world sprawled out underneath her from there, distant and oblivious to anything but itself. Her eyes settled to the man she'd been looking for. For a moment, the sound of the door opening hadn't registered. She had a moment to look at him without any pretensions. His hair was in mussed tufts, his eyes a little dark underneath. A tight black t-shirt and black slack pants was all he wore and he leant on his folded hands, his brow creased and laden with worry. His eyes... she couldn't take in the brown luminence of the orbs, such heartbreaking sadness she saw there. The very vision of him screamed isolation and fear. How could she have not sense that earlier?

This moment only lasted as such, the man blinking as the sound of the door reached him inside his shell. He straightened slowly, his eyes glistening as he stood to meet her.

"Zena..."

"No," she lifted a hand, "No don't - don't say anything for a minute..." Closing the door, she turned, her hands shaking. Damn... he was so beautiful. Why did he have to be so lovely to look at? She met his gaze only breifly, stepping over to his lounge suite, sitting down on the soft black italian leather. She could sense his anxiety, she could see the stiffness of it in his movements. In this life... this life she had with him, it stung her soul. Sparring partners? Friends? With him? She shuddered, shaking her head. "You knew... all that time?"

As she glanced up, he nodded to her, large brown eyes filled with a vulnerable gleam.

"You didn't think that maybe it was wrong? To do what you did - when you knew our past?"

A breathy laugh fell from him as he buried his head in his hands, "I did-" He shrugged darkly, "It's just when the only woman you ever really loved is standing in front of you when you thought you'd lost her forever, I dunno," He flared his nostrils with a sad sarcasm, "You kinda forget about morals. To be honest I didn't even think it was really you in there... a descendant or something..."

Xena nodded slowly, pressing her lips together, "Right."

"When I figured out... when it became apparent that you were who you looked like I - I just. I just wanted to be near you."

She sighed, looking away, battling tears that rimmed her eyes. What game was he trying to pull with her? Had he pretended to be mortal all that time? Whas what he was saying true? What did it matter? God or not, he had been the man he had been back in Greece. She double glanced back, rolling her lips, "Time - it doesn't change anything you know. I know who you were. Who you still are. I can't live with that. I can barely live with myself."

His eyes fell shut, the luscious curls of his lashes touching his cheekbones, the smooth crystal of a tear spilling over it.

"Well?" She prodded, running her hands over her knees, "You're not going to say anything? Threaten me or..."

Ares opened his eyes, glancing to her, "It's been a very long time Xena," he said, "Longer than you could possibly realise. Do you remember any of your other lives?"

Xena narrowed her eyes a second, then shook her head, "No. I don't."

"So it's like falling asleep," he said, "And waking up after a particularly incredible dream that ends up being reality."

She nodded this time, battling the uncertainty the steady timbre of his voice was creating within her. "That's exactly what it's like."

"Then you don't know, don't realise how long it's been. How dead an existence has been without you... not knowing love, knowing real..." He shook his head, a disturbed shudder taking him, "It's a very very long time, longer than you know, the time you've been gone. Civilizations have risen and died before the eyes of me and my family. I've had thousands of wives, children. I gave up the game of trying to live a life millenia ago. Life's just no fun without you there to keep me in line. You know, there's a reason you've been brought back, though I don't know what it is. All I know is that of all the things in my life that ever made me feel worth something more than... than trash, it was how you made me feel when you weren't hitting me, and you weren't angry with me. Remember - remember Sysiphis' little island? Remember?"

Her heart tremored - she didn't want to remember. She nodded fractionally, watching him speak, his lips moving tenderly. For the briefest of moments, her hands were the smaller fine-nailed mani of her multi-incarntational advesary, Callisto. She remembered the sensation of those hands skimming over his hot satin skin, his large doe eyes gazing to her with that same need, same vulnerability. It always disarmed her... not now. He continued, fiddling with his fingers.

"First time I ever felt like... I don't know. Worth something. And when I didn't have you, all I had was War. And when that was taken away, I didn't even have much of a family. Just... myself. And alone. Thousands of years wandering around alone, knowing I could never feel what I felt with you again, cause it was unique. That was something I always knew. I lived all that time thinking I wouldn't know the fire we had, something so rare."

She felt a painful lump catch her throat, "Don't..."

He looked to her.

"Don't do this..."

He frowned, "Don't do what?"

A hot sigh fell from her, "I don't, I don't know. I'm so confused. I have two sets of experiences with you, and they don't add up at all. One the one hand I have a pitiful wreck of a human being, on the other hand a murderous jerk, and then you start with this shit-"

He grit his teeth, his jaw muscles bulging, "I'm not shitting you," he said, "For once in my Goddamned life I'm being honest. Isn't that what you always wanted?"

She closed her eyes, feeling the tulmut of nerves ringing crazy inside her. God, he always did this to her. She knew it would happen again, and no matter how she tried to steel herself against it, she felt her joints weaken, her body quiver like a frightened baby. She could feel him all around her, in the air, in the sounds... he was breathing so shallow with fear. It all burned at her.

"I don't know what I wanted from you!" she cried, struggling for some sense of control in the emotions that drowned her, "But now I remember who you were-"

A rough grunt left him as he thrust himself to his bare feet, pacing a moment as he ran tense fingers through his hair.

"I've been living with who I WAS for five thousand years Xena!" he said, his voice a growl, "I'm so tired of being beaten for being what nobody else wanted to be. This world needed, needs and will always NEED conflict! And for a little while, Man needed someone to govern it. I took that role, Xena. I chose it, cause somebody HAD to do it."

She growled back at him, jumping to her feet, "And you ENJOYED IT!"

"Of COURSE I did!" he shouted back, "What other choice did I have?! I'd a been a miserable prick if I didn't learn to like it! And only I understood the PURPOSE of what I was doing - don't you SEE that?!"

She narrowed her eyes at him, "I see pain I see-"

"That's so old Xena," he said darkly, "You sound like a fucking stuck record."

"This is exACTly why I am ending this now! You don't having the faintest inkling of what you put people thr-"

He laughed suddenly, a sad tortured laugh as he shook his head, "You think I don't know what I did? That I haven't learnt the pain I caused through living as a man on the earth? I know what I did. It cost me you, Xena. I was a fucking idiot for letting my ego get in the way of getting close to you."

"You're just saying this," she muttered, her anger slowly dwindling at Ares' words.

"Maybe I am," he said, "Up to you to decide."

"You're still a cruel person," she said, digging for straws, "You sleep with lots of women, you're arrogant-"

"Arrogance is a crime now?" he rose a brow, "Wow, first I heard of it."

"I know you better than you think," she finished with a forceful tone.

He shook his head, a silence falling after all the shouting like a suffocating shroud. He lifted his eyes, his words hitting her like a bullet. "I used to believe that."

She almost staggered at their impact. How could he... how could he say that? Closeness, yes she'd felt so close to him, like she knew him so completely, that to be with him was instinctual. She remembered all those days at the dojo, their spars more like elaborate dances, perfectly choreographed, their bodies moving and their mind meeting in the language of thrust, jab, lunge and roll. And now he closed himself off, he denied her something she knew as given since she picked up a sword. She KNEW him!

Clenching her hand to a fist she turned, pacing to the door.

"Whether you believe me or not," he said suddenly, "I lived all that time, waiting for you."

She glanced back, the tears she battled blurring her vision, "You shouldn't have bothered."

She turned, striding out the door before he could answer her. That was the way to go. Always the way to leave him. If she stayed, he would look at her with those eyes, and again she'd fall liked a useless doll. Her stomach lurched, the tears blurring her vision now spilling down her face. A resounding ache rolled through her, knocking her soul, devastated cracks ripping through her. She forced herself to breath calmly, lips tense. She wasn't sad, she was fine, Oh God she had to be fine with this. She was the Warrior Princess. She'd been alone before. She'd fought. Oh God how she missed that time, the strident independent days of the insinctual, the primal. The basics. She ran down the stairwell of the apartments, her soft sobs echoing off the walls of the concrete walls around her. When did things get complicated? When did she become this soft-hearted thing that she was now? Or was she always there, always wanting to exist and never having the opportunity?

She shoved the thought from her head as her feet met the bitumen of the apartment car-park. She ran, ran to her car, fumbling with the keys in her pocket. Silently she missed Argo, somehow knowing that she was the stupid yellow labrador in her flat waiting for her to come home. The engine complained as she started it abruptly from it's sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his. His lips, the whisp of the curl of his hair, the short trimmed goatee he'd kept all that time. His hands, his voice. They were burned into her mind, right to the deepest recesses of her soul. She stifled a sob, revving the car onto the road. Whiskey, she needed whiskey.

She drove almost subconsciously, tears stealing their way down her face when she wasn't ready to combat them, a sob disguising itself as a cough every now and again. Frostbites loomed up ahead, and even though it screamed of him, of her life with him, she felt drawn to it, reassured by the fact that he was probably moping in his apartment right now.

Inside it was in it's regular café-by-day mode, soft funky jazz being pumped through the speakers that was bastardized by the odd stumble of dance-beat tampering. She slid to the bar, tapping it darkly.

"Hey Zena," the woman there said, "Arran may know your little signals and what you like to drink but I don't." She smiled, wiping her hands on her apron, "So what would you like?"

Xena glared at her, "Whiskey."

The woman frowned, brushing a lock of hair from her face, "Isn't it a little early in the day for that?"

She sighed long, rubbing her eyes, "I just - want a whiskey, okay? Straight, no ice, just whiskey."

"Okay..." the woman said, sing-song, "Don't blame me if you feel terrible later on."

"I won't," Xena growled.

The bar-woman was quiet a moment, until she glanced up and smiled brightly to Xena.

"I heard you and Arran got together! 'Bout time, I say."

Xena twitched the corner of her mouth in the nearest approximation to a smile as she could muster. The woman slid the whiskey to her.

"That'll be four-fifty."

Xena pulled out he purse, riffling through the notes. Pulling one out she handed it to her, glowering with some disatisfaction. She hated talking about him.

"Well, say hi to Ar for me if you see him!" said the woman in a chipper tone, waving as she strode to the other end of the bar.

Xena looked down to the whiskey, thoroughly despising the sensation of her heart beating noisily against her ribcage in painful strokes.

"Sucks doesn't it?"

The words, dark and wistful, broke Xena's involvement in her own torment, and she glanced around her. The shape at the end of the bar looked up at her, and she felt a chill run through her. Blonde straggled locks hung around the face that hung long, the eyes dark pools of something Xena didn't want to deal with.

"Callist-a," she muttered, not wanting to associate what she saw with the vicious woman she'd known so long ago, "You okay?"

A soft chuckle fell from the woman at the other end of the bar, "Well let's see... I just last night remembered that my family were burnt to a crisp in a shitty mudhole in Greece. I remember it, like yesterday."

Xena frowned, tears spilling over her cheeks, "Oh Callista..."

A tight sob left the other woman like a laugh. Xena ventured forward, sliding her drink with her, her movements cautious.

"Do you remember doing it Xena? Do you even realise you were in Greece? Thousands of years ago?" Her eyes held a cruel derision, one Xena never remembered seeing in this incarnation of her.

"I do," Xena said evenly, "I wish I didn't."

"Ha," she snorted, "Right."

"You have a family now right?"

Callista nodded, "In Cleveland."

Xena sighed with relief, smiling a little, "Well - they're alive and well now... feel good in that-"

"It doesn't erase the memories Xena," she bleated through tears. Her voice dropped suddenly, her eyes poisonous, "Doesn't change what happened."

Xena felt a chill run through her, the words almost an echo as she saw his eyes flash in her mind, her voice uttering the same words... No, you can't think like that Xena!

"I don't even get the satisfaction of telling you who you really are, watching the torment wash over you slowly. I can't-" The woman shook her head, tears reddening her cheeks, "Why am I fucked over relentlessly and you're given all the fucking blessings?"

A twist in her lips caught her tears, and Xena held the sob as she lifted her tumbler to finish the drink, "I have as many blessings as you do, Callista. And as many damnations." She let the whiskey smash her mouth again, and she slid the glass away, turning from the wrecked woman next to her, "You'll be okay, Callista. If you try to redeem yourself."

Callista glanced up at her, scathing in her dark eyes.

The very look rocked Xena, and she turned, striding from the bar in something akin to fear. She had to get home, had to check on her dog, had to - had to live. Had to be Zena Wohlters. So she drove, down the highway, the buildings and sparse greenery of LA beating into her how far she was from lush Ancient Greece.

As she entered the door to her apartment a mess of shaggy blondeness attacked her, licking and slobbering over her, sharp rough paws patting and pawing at her excitedly. She glanced into the rest of the tuscan-styled apartment, eyeing for damage from her over-excitable pet. Thankfully the puffy calico lounge with detailed throw was perfectly intact.

"Agnes!" she gasped, finally paying some attention to the dog, "Naughty! Down girl down... I'm sorry, I'm sorry I didn't come home last night. Did Auntie Dotty feed you?"

Xena strolled to her fridge, eye out for any messages. On the door, sure enough, was a post-it note.

"Zena,

I fed Agnes for you and took
out the garbage. Girl, you
need to keep regular hours if
you want to keep your championship
title!

Love,
Aunt Dorothy."

"Well," she sighed, dropping her handbag on her dining table, "she is looking after me huh?"

Agnes moaned, pushing her nose to Xena's hand. Xena sighed, patting the dog on the head.

"I know, sweety, I won't go away like that again."

A sharp rapping hit the door, and Xena nearly jumped, turning around, hand almost grasping for her sword, and slowly realising she didn't have one anymore. 'You don't wear the sword anymore...' The phrase flitted through her mind, chilling her. He had known. All along. 'You, beautiful princess... I waited years and years and years for you. Years and years and I never found you. Thought I never would.' She held her head in her hands, taking deep breaths, trying to calm herself. She strode to the door, emotional exhaustion feeling not too far away as her stomach sank inside her.

"Xena..."

Xena held open the door, relief washing over her at the sight of her best friends in the doorway. Joxer ushered Gabrielle in, his face drawn in concern.

"Xena, are you okay?" he asked, "I mean - we met up with Dite - went to find you at Ar's apartment but you weren't there."

"You must have missed me," she said, turning from the door, skulking to her lounge.

Gabrielle winced sadly from next to Joxer in the walkway from the front door to the lounge, "You broke up with him, didn't you?"

Xena glanced to her best friend, "Gabrielle - it's Ares! What do you think?!"

Gabrielle shrugged with a sigh, "I don't know, you seemed kinda happy with him."

She rolled her eyes, the aching beginnings of regret threatening to seize her. "No, I just didn't know any better."

Joxer shuffled on his feet, and he looked to Xena, "Um, not that I'm not as into the current crisis as you guys but uh - I really gotta use the bathroom..."

Xena pointed right, "Down the hall, second to the left."

A smile broke through his desperation, "Thank you!"

Gabrielle watched him disappear into the hallway, plodding over to her best friend. She sank down next to her, slipping an arm around her.

"Hey."

Xena let herself feel soothed in the woman's embrace, familiarity warming her more than she ever realised it could. "Hey."

Gabrielle stroked dark tresses of hair from her friend's face on her shoulder, "You okay?"

"I'll be okay," she said through a sigh, "I gotta say... one of the best things about this remembering thing is knowing Joxer again."

A smile broke onto Gabrielle's face, "I know."

"And the good memories of our little escapades," added Xena, weaving her fingers with Gabrielle's affectionately, "Makes our friendship even stronger than it was."

"Yeah, I think so," Gabrielle said with a small smile, "It's weird though... having two lives to look back on, huh?"

"Yeah," nodded Xena, "Really wierd. I don't know if I like it."

Gabrielle patted Xena's shoulder gently as the woman slid her legs up, curling in a ball and nestling her face to her knees.

There was the clunk of a door and a rush of water not far off, and soon, "Oh Gods that feels so much better!"

Gabrielle couldn't help but grin, a little smile fighting it's way to Xena's lips.

"You know, I still can't get over how talented he really is," Gabrielle said, a wonderous look in her eyes, "I mean, when he's on stage..."

"I know," Xena nodded, "I saw the potential but I never thought he'd go through with it like this."

A dreamy sigh fell from the bard, "Not just that, but he's changed a little. Just slightly, like - I dunno. I think he knows me better, if that's even possible. We're just so - connected. And he's really wise now. I don't think he used to be, I never stopped to find out. But he is now. Really wise in like, a spiritual way."

A sad smile sat on Xena's face, still there as Joxer ambled into the room, babbling about how nice Xena's bathroom was.

"Is that a spa?"

Xena glanced up, "Yeah... yeah it is."

Gabrielle was right... Joxer was different. Still silly, but somehow powerful in his movements, like he knew how to move and how to behave to make the most of himself. That and he finally wore glasses, which probably had a lot to do with why he was such a hopeless klutz in the BC. She looked to Gabrielle, a similar wonderment in her. The bard had changed too. The woman she'd known in this life had lacked the dangerous insecurities she'd sensed in her friend from so long ago. As if she were self assured in what kind of person she wanted to be this time around. They were changes that were imperceptable, invisible to one's self, things that were perfect plays of silence and subtlty.

Guilt narrowed her eyes as her thoughts weighed down on her. No, she couldn't think of Ares now, his words, the sad solitary person he'd become, the way regret seemed to weigh down his movements. Damn it all - No Xena! She had to remember him for the scheming selfish bastard he had been, that he was capable of being now. The pot, the smoking, the beer, the women...

A great spasm of anger and confusion washed through her. If she were to judge him on such things, she would be equally as guilty, having her fair share of the alcohol and the odd lover. She couldn't think of this though, she couldn't question it, it was done now. Walls silently grew inside her, and she sighed with a tentative new sense of security, her memories slipping into line the way she forced them to, the way they fitted with her archaic world view. Yes... she had made the right decision.

Chapter Nine
Let Your Spirit Move Me

The black leather-bound book sat in his bookshelf, an odd object of strange sentimental value. It was only 30 years ago that he thought to actually bother keeping a family album. As the modern era set itself up, as a civilization finally re-emerged after those hundreds of years of barbaric society, the stresses of survival diminished, so a home and a lifestyle was possible at last. He spent time with people for change, Aphrodite and Discord being his closest companions. Why Aphrodite chose to take him under her wing and not Hercules, he didn't know. If he remembered rightly, Herc was somewhere round LA too. Not that he particularly cared to think about him. So his family album was to the brim with photos of family gatherings, of dinners at resteraunts, of new years eve's backdropped with the sparkling effervesence of fireworks. How dim they were compared to the glory of Olympus they'd lost so long ago. How beautiful a ball of plasma he could create in his hand all that time ago was compared to the spatterings of burning magnesium. It wasn't any use moping over such things.

He flipped the pages, moving to the last page. He remembered placing the newest photo in there just yesterday morning. Yes... Flipping to the last two pages, on one was a polaroid and the other empty. The polaroid's vivid colour captured him holding Xena in his arms, she was laughing, trying to escape the camera's eye. It could be seen they were falling over one another in their morning clothes of night-gowns and baggy shirts. He closed his eyes, his throat warming, a yawning opening up inside of him that only seemed to be filled with a gaunt despair. He glanced up, seeing a brown leather-bound book next to where the album was. He reached up, pulling it from it's place, letting it fall open in his lap.

With a decided fervor, he flipped through it. He held open a page, old etchings depicting in a frail manner the great Gods of Olympus. Humans could never seem to capture the physical majesty of the Gods, their blessed perfection. Not that it mattered - to the world they were all but dead. Under one entry was the muscled proud visage of Ares, God of War. He held a sword and wore a pleated toga, a helmet on his brow. Where'd they get the idea he wore a helmet? Stupid Roman times. His eyes fell to the words underneath the picture, knowing the ache he'd feel, relentlessly reading ahead...

'Ares, the son of Zeus and Hera, was the Greek God of war, and was later identified with the Roman war god MARS. Although Ares had no wife of his own, he had three children by other Goddesses. The twins, Phobos "Panic" and Deimos "Fear", always accompanied him on the battlefield. In Greek mythology, Ares is depicted as an instigator of violence, a tempestuous and passionate lover and an unscrupulous friend. The Roman god Mars, however, has nothing of Ares' fickleness.'

The words were black, immovable. The paper they were printed on was old, and this had been printed thousands of times, upon millions in other books. To the name Ares went anger, hatred, fear and derision from now until the end of humanity. He had done it. Himself. The weight that seemed would never be removed from his shoulder bore down upon him, for yet another time growing heavier, self hatred welling within him. Guilt... such guilt he felt. When would he stop feeling it? When would it end? A rough sigh left him as he turned the page, trying not only to forget those times, but forget the disease he became to society as he was cast from Godhood along with the other Gods of Olympus. Hate... such hate directed towards him. They knew who he had been, what he'd done. Presumptuous humans casting him out of even their fold. They knew nothing of what he sacrificed, what he gave up for their benefit. He fingered the pages of the book in his lap that seemd to waft a musty fragrance as he opened a section that hadn't been leafed through in a fit of moody discontent in some time... 'Heroes of Ancient Greece'.

He flicked past the many heroes of the time, mostly men. It was near the end where her little drawing was. He'd almost forgotten it was there.

He leafed to the page, opening it tenderly. Xena.

'Xena, daughter of Cyrene, named Warrior Princess and Destroyer of Nations. In myth is responsible for the downfall of the Gods of Olympus, famous for her ecclectic talents and her most lethal weapon from India, the chakram. Often said to have travelled with the bard Gabrielle of Potedaia after her miraculous conversion from her scurrilous ways due to the friendship of Hercules (see Heracles).'

In the book was an etching on the browning paper, a short pleated toga on the woman, the chakram hanging on a rope belt, brass gauntlets on her knees, sword in her hand, a breast exposed. Ares sighed, shaking his head. Couldn't get it right. His heart lurched in surprise as a drop splashed the page... a tear? He blinked, awakening to the aching in the rims of his eyes, the growing tears that threatened to follow. He wiped the tear away on the page, the page smudging just a little. This caused a lurch in him also. He'd forgotten the book was so old that it was printed with such an ink... perhaps that blackness of the written word wasn't so immovable after all. He pinched his fingers at the edge of the paper, so delicately ripping at it, carefully peeling the entry from the book till it was clear of the page. He slid the thin deliate paper into the empty plastic sleeve of his family album next to the vibrant photo of himself and the once-Warrior Princess. The little drawing seemed lonely somehow. Taking to the book again, he ripped out the little entry of the God of War, and again, carefully slid it into the sleeve next to the photo. He struggled with the thin paper, sliding the drawings till they sat somewhat next to one another.

He ran his hand over the page of images, a last fragment of a brief sweet moment that lifted his soul even only just, that 'just' being enough to warrant a smile from him. In that fleeting time he'd been forgiven, his heart was full and for once he'd felt like smiling. Like being goofy, like actually being a nice guy for once. The cosmos seemed to slam into him the fact that he was always to be denied this. Always the fall-guy of the heavens. That was he. A heavy sigh took him, and he slapped closed the album, striding into his room. Yanking open his closet, he pulled out a carry bag, grabbing shirts haphazardly and throwing them in. Worse than never seeing her and never having her, the pain of seeing her and never having her tore at him more than he'd ever known. He couldn't survive it, he wouldn't.

Perhaps Las Vegas needed some barmen.

Chapter Ten
Not Ready for Goodbyes

The air was thick, hot, typical of midday Los Angeles. Particularly typical of midday Los Angeles in a closed car. She should have been out of the car by now, up the stairs, into the flat. Unsaid things needed to be said, unreturned things needed to be returned. Strings tied off, snipped, and neatly disposed of. The sickening stench of hot carseat made her throat feel strange, and it was a good sign that the heat inside the car was to a point where it was no longer healthy for her. She hauled herself out of the seat, locking the car grudgingly. Have to get it over with, Xena, she told herself.

She plodded up the stairs, into the lobby, traipsing over to the elevator.

Two days. It had been two days since she'd walked out. She tried to remember what she'd been doing all that time. Tutoring kids in San Shou. Teaching self defense classes. A new determination had hit her as she taught young women to be stronger, empowered. For a time, she adored the 21st century. Then she felt like taking a swim and realised she only had the pool at the gym to go to, not a nice cold stream where she could nab some trout for dinner. Well... Two days. She'd successfully put off seeing him at all for two days, even talking to him. She kinda felt proud, like she could deal with it, deal with this, be good ol' self reliant Xena again. Gods - she had to fix her name up. The elevator slowed, the doors clanking open.

Two days. Her mind, over and over, recited a cognitive mantra of independence and stability, pummelled by the hollow ache of loneliness, the cold of her side without Arran (Ares, dammit he was Ares) there to warm her. God damn him to hell, she missed training with him. She would have been training with him yesterday. Kicking his ass. She loved doing that. She loved the press of bodies, the film of sweat that touched her skin, the grunting of a struggle. The rush of triumph. Somehow, it wasn't so triumphant without him there.

No no no, she growled to herself. Stop thinking like that! She kept remembering who he used to be, it all seemed to fall upon her and bounce right off her again, useless information she didn't want to know. But to ignore would be a disgrace to those lives he ruined.

For a moment, the haunted eyes of Callisto froze her heart. She shut away the memory, trying to stop her hands from shaking. She didn't want to feel guilty, not in this life. Not a life where she'd done nothing. Oh damn... this was so complicated.

She stopped her racing thoughts, realising she had been standing out the front of Arran's door for a good ten minutes. She stepped back, almost staggering, as the door burst open.

"Oh my God!"

Aphrodite jumped, clutching her chest with a hand that gripped a black gauzy hankerchief, "Geez, Xena, you scared me!"

Xena frowned at the woman. She wore a black t-shirt and skirt, stockings, flat pumps. Glancing into the flat through it's open door she saw Discord sitting at Arran's couch, picking through a box, her make-up smudged. Her heart slowly seized, and she glared at Aphrodite.

"What - what's going on... Where's Arran?"

Aphrodite gripped the hanky, pressing it to her mouth, her eyes watering as she turned and stepped into the apartment, "Come on Xena... sit down."

Confusion spilled through Xena, worry and disorientation joining it. This couldn't be...

'Denise' glanced up from the couch, her voice rough, "Hey Xena."

Aphrodite sat Xena down on the other side of the box, sitting on the ebony coffee table in front of it.

"Where's Arran?" she growled, stretching her neck as she peered around her, "Ar! Get out here!"

"He ain't coming out sugar-lumps," mumbled Denise darkly, "Ever."

"What are you talking about?"

"Denise," sighed Aphrodite, "Be gentle! Sheesh!"

Xena's heart beat wildly in her chest as her mind raced about like a panic stricken hen, "Be gentle about what? What's going on?"

Aphrodite caught a sob, her lips wrinkling as tears spilled down her face, "Arran is dead."

Xena narrowed her eyes, a sharp smile taking her. She jumped up, striding to the kitchen, "Aww come on!" she cried out in a merry tone, "You're kidding me! Ar! Come out here - this isn't going to make me come back to you! Nice try!"

The whimpering sob of Aphrodite stopped her, and turning, she saw the woman hunched over, shaking in a sob. Denise leant forward, rubbing the woman's back as if she was diseased, but her eyes showing real concern.

"Good one," she spat, "You know how long it's taken me to stop her sobbin' like a hired wailer? He's dead, comprendé? Ares is gone!"

"Wh- no way!" Xena shuffled on the spot, shaking her head, "No way!"

"Way already!" the ex-Goddess sighed, going back to the box she was sorting through, "See most of his stuff is missing? It's in the van down-stairs. He died! Dead! Bye-Bye Birdie!"

The words slammed her like speeding lorries, her head tingling with dizziness, her hands growing warm and quivering. She shook her head, racing over into his bedroom. The bed was immaculately set out, so different to the wrinkled pile of satin-sheeting it usually was, the smell of him in the room setting her bottom lip shuddering in disbelief. Striding to his closet she pulled it open, digging through franticly. Scared, so scared. This had to be bullshit, he couldn't be dead, he couldn't be. Hope burst through her as she jumped out of the closet.

"His carry-bag is gone," she said, "And his shirts!"

Denise rolled her eyes, Aphrodite sitting up, sniffling and patting at her chest.

"Okay Xena, I know it's hard to accept, him being an ex-God and all, and immortal, but like... the Fates said that he only had till full moon to improve his soul and it looks like they meant it," The blonde stopped, her words squeeking out as she sobbed some more, blowing noisiling into her handkerchief.

Xena frowned, "What Fates? The Fates are gone!"

"No they're not," Denise wiped at her face sharply, "They're our crazy Aunts in the rubber-celled home eating sludge every day. They decide what happens to the cast out Gods."

Xena felt her mind dislodging from her skull, staggering and whirling till she felt ill. The sobs that threatened hurt her throat, her eyes watering at the pain. "What happened?"

"Ares was leaving LA," whimpered Aphrodite, wiping at her eyes, "And um... he'd reached quite a ways when boom! His car swerved off the road after it skidded on some loose gravel and hit a pole and - blew up! Police say he could have been swerving to miss an animal or something."

She felt her head shaking slowly, "No... no no no..."

"He was leaving because of you," mumbled Denise, "Just cause you're so fucking high and mighty and can't even accept him after he waited five fucking thousand years for you."

Aphrodite glared at Discord, "That isn't cool, Denny!"

"Like I fucking care!" hissed the girl, "I've been by his side all this time! He's the only person in the whole Pantheon that gave a fuck about me, and he's gone because of this insensitive bitch over here."

"W-Wuh? No! It's not my fault!" Xena shook her head, waving a hand, her face expressionless, "I'm - I'm going to go..."

"Wait!"

Xena turned, complete numbness enveloping her.

Aphrodite reached up and plucked the dark leather-bound album from the bookshelf, "Ar told me to give this to you before he left for Las Vegas."

Xena frowned, taking the album offered to her, "Wh- Why would he want me to have this?"

"I don't know," Aphrodite shrugged, "He's had that thing since 1967, you know. He's wearing flares at the back of the album-" She stopped, wiping tears from her eyes as a sob seized her, "It's really funny," she squeaked, turning away and weeping silently.

"I'm going," Xena said, taking the book into her hands, her feet moving before she even thought where she was going. There was only one place she knew to go. She'd met him there, she'd grown to know him, to rely on him there. She couldn't even believe it, it wasn't real, still a joke. She went down the stairs that led to the resident carpark, to check on his car. Then she'd know it was a joke. As she hopped down the last of the stairs her feet skidded to a halt, nearly tumbling over herself as she tried to focus on what was in front of her. No... no!

A white van sat with the door open, a man in a suit stacking things into it. In one box she saw a pile of records... She ran forward, grabbing the box in the car.

"Lady! What are you doing? Please - get out of there!"

"Wait!" she mumbled, flicking through the albums... Led Zeppelin, Queen, Pink Floyd, Frank Zappa, Hendrix, Cream, Deep Purple... these were his. She glared at the man, "Where did you get these?"

"From Mr. Ioulianos' apartment, Miss," he said, "A few floors up. His sister was packing things up."

"Do you know where he is?" she said, her eyes gleaming.

The man's eyebrows danced as he looked from the box in his arms, to Xena's face, "I'm sorry Ma'am, I heard he died this morning."

"No," she whimpered, shaking her head, turning and running. Her soul was racing, panicking. The ache in her throat spilt tears down her face, slipping away down her neck as she clutched the photo album in her hands, jumping into her car. Revving it up, she jerked it out of the carpark, speeding it down the highway towards town. Her heart thumped helplessly, tears blurring her vision. Sobs rose and fell in her throat as she mumbled to herself.

"God no," she whispered, "No you can't, you can't do this to me you fucking son of a bitch!" She sniffled, rubbing at her nose, "That ain't right!! You can't, you can't!" Her sobs became choking, audible, long cries as wiped at her eyes, careening down the highway.

She reached the night-club, parking her car haphazardly. She jumped out, running into the building, sweat building up against the leather book in her hands. As she thumped her way in the door, the female bar-maid from three days ago glanced up at her.

"Oh Zena," she tilted her head, "Did you - did you hear?"

Xena nodded absently, the tears in her eyes now spilling unchecked. She plodded to the bar, a great defeat washing over her... he was... he was gone...

The faux ice-berg bar seemed empty. Black ribbons were tied around various bottles of alcoholic substances, in the bar, around a couple of taps in silent tribute. She sank down on a bar stool, sliding the album in front of her. Oh God... he was gone... Too soon! It was too soon damn it! She was - she was getting used to being her again and... she needed him around! She couldn't love him, oh God she loved him... This was stupid, it was just because he was dead. No! He couldn't be!! He was supposed to live forever! He was supposed to, that's what immortal meant! Living forever and ever!

A straight whiskey was slid in front of her, and she glanced up. The woman behing the bar smiled through her own tears, patting Xena's shoulder gently.

"You tell me if you need anything, okay?"

Xena nodded numbly, until the girl's voice rose again.

"Oh I nearly forgot!" The girl sighed, reaching behind the bar, "I caught him doodling this last night at the Hot Spandex gig, when he was waiting for your drinks... He screwed it up and threw it away but, I kinda wanted to know what it said so me being nosey me - I saved it..." She pulled the page out of her pocket, uncrumpling it, handing the dirty-white paper to her. "I cried when I saw it I - I knew you'd wanna have it. I was going to give it to you the other day but I forgot."

Xena took the paper, a whimper forming in her throat as she saw it.

"OHhhh," She shook her head, crumpling on the bar, sobbing silently. Even now as she closed her eyes, squinted them to combat the pain, the words were there plain as day, in his haphazard yet elegantly beautiful hand. He wrote it, such a sentimental and foolish page of scribbles that tore her heart up at once.

'Zena Wohlters. Arran Ioulianos. Zena Ioulianos. I love Zena Wohlters. Zena Wohlters-Ioulianos. Zena Ioulianos Wohlters..."

She had to stop reading, looking away. The bar-maid would stroke her arm tenderly, silently.

"The funniest thing... he spelt your name with an 'X' at the end there... I always thought it was a 'Z'..."

Xena glanced down to the page... yes at the end.

"... Zena loves Arran? Arran loves Xena."

"Fuck," she sighed, cradling her face, eyes stinging as she wept.

"I know," breathed the barmaid, "As I said - I'll be over here if you need me."

Xena nodded, eyes looking over the lovelorn scribblings. Ares did this... Ares... God of War Ares, bastard Ares that would never say he loved her... who did say he loved her and she - she never believed it. She pulled open the album suddenly. Aphrodite was right, the flares - oh they were so funny... Oh Gods she forgot his long hair. In one photo he was grinning, at the beach, beautifully tanned body gleaming in the LA sun, Aphrodite hanging against him with smooth long hair in a pink string bikini. 1970, it was labelled. She flicked forward through the book, looks changing, faces staying the same. How hadn't she noticed that before when Dite showed her? Maybe the different wardrobe threw her... oh God...

She dropped the book on the bar, her hand tight over her mouth as she closed her eyes, a long moan growing in her. She opened them again, venturing to look down. That damned - that damn morning. That one morning and he pulled out the polaroid. She assumed he wanted to take dirty pictures. He grabbed her, she'd struggled, not too enthuseastic of having her pink bits on film and he just - grinned and clicked. She'd been giggling... he'd tickled her. And then this was the result. Gabrielle had been right. She'd - she'd been happy with him. She frowned, her eyes floating over the next page. Two drawings? No... printed word... Very old printed word. From a book? It was smudged. Ares, God of War, Xena - Warrior... Princess. She ran her fingers over the plastic protecting the paper, her brows tilting up.

She'd been dead. Many times, she had been dead. Ares was dead, and he could be not dead, like her. She shoved the scribblings into the album and the album into her jacket, waving to the barmaid.

"See ya," she shouted, racing out the door.

Arran had spoken to her a lot of his family. She remembered he'd spent most of his time trying to escape their influences. This had been before. Now she realised the trap that was being of a Pantheon for millenia, and suddenly not being of one. Being an integral part of a unit, being incomplete without them, and finally alone, struggling for some sense of identity whilst being tempted back to the easy slot in the place of family. Arran, Ares' bond with his family was deeper than she ever realised.

The place was amongst the estates in Beverly Hills. Protected, a palace among mansions, riches there being carefully gathered and nurtured for thousands of years.

She screeched the car to a halt at the gate as a guard stepped out, his face a wrinkle of regret. He shook his head, waving his hand at her.

"Miss, no visitors today."

Xena frowned, "I'm not a visitor. I'm-" She stopped herself, wiping at a tear angrily, "I'm Arran's girlfriend."

The guard frowned at her, shaking his head, "I'm sorry, family only."

A panic rose in her and she dug into her jacket.

"For God's sakes look!" She said, flipping open the album.

The guard looked at it, blinking slowly and nodding.

"I apologize," he said, "Unless it's an emergency, I'm going to have to ask you to leave, the family is in a real state right now..."

"It is!" she grit her teeth, temper flaring, "Arran is dead and I want to see his fucking father, you got that?!"

The guard paled, "Awright awright." He turned, disappearing inside the little booth to the side of the estate, and the black wrought iron gate opened slowly. She revved the car impatiently, closing the album in her lap, and with a lurch she sent the car down the driveway, braking it with a similar lurch out the front of the main entrance. She held the album as she ran out of the car, up the steps of the house. She thumped the door wildly, wiping at her tears roughly, getting rid of them as best she could. The door opened, a little woman standing in the door.

"Hello, yes? Oh," She looked Xena up and down, "I sorry, Madam, no visitors today."

"Please," she sighed, "Let me in, I have to speak to Arran's father."

"Mr. Ioulianos speak to nobody today," she said in broken english, "He very sad, his son die."

Xena stomped a foot, rolling her eyes, "I know, I was - I was his very close friend, I knew him for nearly ten years. Please - let me in."

"Carla, who is it?"

The woman turned around, backing away as the stalwart but courtly Jésus Ioulianos stood in the doorway, barely the same height as Xena. He rose a peppered brow, his face hung as if he were disturbed but the terrible grief Xena felt she certainly saw missing in his eyes.

"I'm Xena," she said, "Zena Wohlters... I don't know if Arran ever mentioned me-"

"Xena?" said the man softly, "Of course, of course. Come in."

Xena walked into the foyer of the large mansion, her footsteps echoing around her, "Listen, I'm not sure what's going on, but if you know the right people or whatever - you gotta bring him back... holy shit this place is huge..."

Zeus glanced around him, pursing his lips and nodding only a moment, "I'm - I'm very sorry Xena. Ares has passed on and there - there isn't anything I can do." He closed his eyes, his lips wrinkling with destraught quivers, "Such a waste..."

Her wandering gaze shot back to him, fiery and direct, "Bullshit. I heard Aphrodite and Denise talking. The Fates - they're in a mental institution or something - they took him! They better bring him back or by God..."

Zeus' eyes fell shut and he shook his head slowly, leaning against a balustrade.

"It isn't possible. He is in Purgatory now. He had an appointed time to improve himself, and he wasted his chance at life."

"He didn't!" Xena exclaimed softly, "He - he played sports and he made love and he drank and made friends and we loved him! I loved him..."

"He didn't change," Zeus said, "He didn't give of himself."

Anger errupted inside her, "No one showed him how to! NO one gave him a chance! Not even me! Everyone needs a chance to be shown the way. I mean - how can you change for the better if no one will set an example?! And and - believe in you!"

"He had plenty of time for that, Xena," he said, "It breaks my heart to see this happen but it is the price he pays for his all-too long life of cruelty and torment."

Xena felt a growl grow within her, fists clenching at the man, "Bring him back!"

Zues closed his eyes, sighing and shaking his head, "Even if you were to convince the Fates, there is nothing they can do. They lack the powers we do. They merely make the choice. I'm sorry, Xena, he is gone."

The rich scent of pine bombarded her as she stood in the courtyard that seemed to drop away into simulated woodland, just like their homeland of Greece. She stepped out, and something in her heart swooned at the masses of greenery. Zeus shuffled at the french doors leading out to the courtyard.

"You may walk through the estate for a time before you leave," he said, "See where Ares had spent his time here. He was always very fond of you, Warrior Princess. I do believe he would have liked to have shown this place to you."

Xena glanced back at the older man, nodding once before stepping onto the grass and towards the woodlands beyond a landscaped waterfall leading down into a huge garden pond. More like a garden lake, she mused to herself. She walked over a little bridge of tied logs, her feet causing wood to creak against rope. She imagined Ares walking over the bridge in the trim and neat clothes of a 1912 gentleman. She found it hard though, with his burly wild nature, she could never imagine him being restrained as that.

Ahead was a lush green alcove that almost glowed in the early morning sunlight. She frowned, a white shape gleaming in the light. She wound through the garden, though an opening in a thicket, and now saw the statue that centred the clearing. Her heart froze at the sight of it, tears spilling down her face.

Arcing her body back, swathed in ripples of cloth, was an angel, her wings spread with magnificence, head thrust back, arms reaching up to the sky. The marble she was carved from was immaculate, intricate grey veins running through it creating a gentle contrast, accentuating form and shape.

She sank down at the trimmed grass at the statues base, gazing up at it as she clutched the album she'd been given to her chest. She could almost remember being an angel herself once, soaring in the heavens, feeling free and so light. Of course, she also knew the kind of idiots up there in heaven... idiots that had her... had her... something, good friend or something. Whatever the hell he was, she wanted him back, so she could take her time and figure out what she wanted to do with him. Oh God she missed him so much.

She looked at the curves of the stone wings above her, representations of the God that took over the ones she'd known and despised for so long, promising love and understanding in the world.

"I believed in you," she breathed, her voice rough from crying, "I fought for you. I was one of your warriors. And now what?" She winced, tears swelling again, "I'm here, alone. Callisto - she's more fucked up than she ever was before! This is what we get for serving you?" She shook her head, a tear-ridden sigh leaving her, "I'm tired of this. Thank you, for giving me my friends Joxer and Gabrielle another life together. But WHY bring me into it when I'm happier as someone ELSE? And WHY take the one person away that I felt a real connection with? Why?" She shook her head again, "I just... I want Ares back."

A darkness swelled in her belly, pulling it down as a realisation dawned on her slowly. He - he wasn't coming back. She couldn't bring him back, now was no longer a time of magic. She knew no Gods, there was no more ambrosia. Ares had become a man with an extraordinarily long life. And it had been taken. Pulling herself up, she cuddled the album to her, glancing to the glowing white statue a last time.

"Thanks anyway."

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