What had happened? All Gabrielle could remember was the long ride over the Steppes, her arms wrapped around Xena’s midriff, the warrior’s soft dark hair blowing into her face while Eve’s comfortable weight nestled against her back.  They had been heading south to Egypt . Gabrielle had agreed with Xena’s plan to go help Cleopatra. After all, with the gods still after Eve, home was the last place they could stay. That was why…

The thought went skittering away, and try as she might, Gabrielle couldn’t get it back. Why what? Had they reached Egypt at all? Or had the terrible thing that left her body shattered…and Gabrielle knew it was terrible, even if she didn’t remember what it was…prevented them from getting there? *I must have a concussion, she thought dimly. *Mustn’t go to sleep…mustn’t go to sleep…mustn’t go to sleep…*

But she didn’t have enough energy to fight it, and eventually both the pain and the chant against her sleepiness disappeared into oblivion.

***

The next time Gabrielle awoke, the pain was slightly better. She still felt broken, but her mind wasn’t quite so fuzzy, and she was able to open her eyes. Dear gods, she really must have sustained a concussion—what else could cause her vision to blur so dramatically? Through the haze Gabrielle was just able to make out something floating above her—eyes! It was dark, so she couldn’t make out their color, but there was a kind of liquid shimmer in the air that told her someone was looking down at her with great worry and concern. Happiness flooded her. She wasn’t alone after all. "Xena?"

"No." The voice was regretful, and very obviously male. "No, Gabrielle. It’s just Iolaus."

"Iolaus?" Her voice sounded so strange, distorted and weak. *Everything* was strange. "What are you doing in Egypt ?"

There was a long silence. Then, quietly, calmly, Iolaus answered her. "We’re not in Egypt , Gabrielle. We’re in Greece . Don’t you remember?"

"I—"

It was difficult, but if she strained hard the images were there. Greece ? Yes. Greece . Gabrielle could remember now—could remember looking over Xena’s shoulder as the alien landscapes gave way to the familiar green hills of home. That first glimpse had made them so happy…both women had been forced to wonder if they’d ever see Greece again, and here they were at last.  She remembered Xena, despite the worry and exhaustion that shadowed every line of her face, picking up Eve and holding the baby so she could see. “You see, Evie?  Home.  I told you we’d make it back eventually…”

 But the happiness hadn’t lasted.  They were being hunted by the gods after all, and they had to be careful, oh so careful, not to be recognized.  Forced into disguise by the Olympian god’s vendetta, Xena and Gabrielle hadn’t been able to speak to anyone.  They couldn’t even look at the familiar, beloved landmarks without a heavy cloak hood spoiling the view. Lonely, heartsick, and exhausted from the paranoia of being in the enemy’s territory, they had made their way slowly overland, avoiding all the towns and settlements. They had traveled all day and all night without stopping, needing to reach the harbor as quickly as they could.

Unfortunatly, even a warrior princess and her loyal bard eventually needs to rest, and they started looking for a safe place to camp.  Xena said she knew of a secret creek hidden deep in the forest where they could stay, and she'd started guiding Argo toward it, ears strained for any clue that they were being followed. Both women nearly jumped out of their skins when they heard the voice, crooning a cheerful fishing song. "So much for our secret camping spot," Gabrielle had murmured. "What shall we do?"

Xena did not answer. But her face was set into grave, frightening lines, and Gabrielle knew what she was thinking.  Both women were at the ends of their ropes. They were tired, they were hungry, and finding another hidden camping spot was simply out of the question. Xena fingered her chakram, and Gabrielle closed her eyes. If the innocent fisherman was lucky, he would wake up tomorrow with a headache. If Xena suspected him of being in league with the gods, he would be dead. It was that simple. Xena slipped off of Argo and crawled overland toward the screening bushes, chakram poised to throw…

…and stopped. A slow smile spread over the warrior’s face as her throwing arm relaxed back to her side. "Well, well, well.  Gabrielle, come take a look.  You’ll never guess what I've found."

Gabrielle scurried to Xena’s side. She couldn’t believe her eyes. The not-so-tuneful singer was Iolaus, fishing happily in the creek.  Next to him stood Hercules. "I don’t believe it," Gabrielle whispered. "Of all the people we could run into…"

"Looks like something’s finally going our way," Xena said, and raised her arm to wave. "Hey! You two!"

The men’s reaction was like sunshine, warming the women to the bone. First there was surprise, then incredulity, then pure joyful affection as the men rushed toward them, gathering them into welcoming hugs.  Iolaus wasted no time in getting Eve off her cradle board and bouncing her on his knee. It was, after all, his first chance to admire her. "Such pretty eyes!" he cooed, waggling his eyebrows in a way that made both women burst into laughter. Gabrielle hadn’t laughed like that in much too long. "They’re as pretty as your mommy’s! Of course, your mommy’s a MEAN lady as well as a pretty one, keeping me from my new god daughter for so long…"

Xena arched an eyebrow. "’God daughter’?"

Iolaus ceased making faces long enough to look up at her. "Yeah, I thought I’d volunteer for the job," he said. "Why? Who’s my competition? Autolycus? Salmoneous?"

"Heaven forbid," Gabrielle laughed. She picked the baby up—Iolaus surrendered her reluctantly, tickling Eve under the chin as she went. Eve giggled happily. "Auto would have her picking locks before she was knee high. And Salmoneous would have her running scams even earlier."

"You see?" Iolaus looked pointedly at Xena. "The baby needs a wholesome influence if you’re going to keep company like that."

"Wait a minute," Hercules stepped in. "How come I’m not in the running?"

"Hercules!" Iolaus protested. "What can you possibly give the kid that I can’t?"

Hercules smiled his most annoyingly heroic smile, spreading his arms munificently . "They’re looking for a god father, Iolaus. I am, after all, half god."

"Not fair!" Iolaus grumbled. "Actual divinity shouldn’t be a requirement…"

"Hold it," Xena said in her best "mother" voice. Gabrielle grinned. Xena hadn’t been using that voice for very long, but she’d taken to it the same way a harpy took to Hades. Both men shut up instantly. "I don’t see why Eve can’t have two god fathers," Xena said, cutting short the brewing argument. She nodded at the fish that were piled up on the shore. "Got enough for five?"

They didn’t, but gallantly set about catching more. A friendly competition developed, each man attempting to catch the necessary number first. As Iolaus sat with his pole and Hercules stood knee deep in the creek, Hercules asked them where they had been. "We’ve been worried," the demigod said, eyes suddenly shadowed. "Especially after we heard about the siege at Amphipolis."

"We went north for a while," Xena explained. "There’s a tribe of Amazons there that I…spent some time with, years ago. They took us in. We thought it was a good idea to get out of Greece for a while."

"Sensible," Iolaus commented.

"Yes," Hercules agreed tightly. Gabrielle glanced at him; the demigod’s face was flushed and stern. "It was a great idea, except for one detail. *Why in Tartarus did you come back?* Don’t you know the gods have only quadrupled their efforts since you left?"

Pain flickered across Xena’s features, but her voice stayed calm. "Peace, Hercules," she said. "We’re not staying long."

"I hope not," Hercules said shortly. "For your sake. It isn’t going to take them long to discover that you’re here."

Xena set her mouth stubbornly. Gabrielle hurried into the breech. "We’ve been very careful," she said placatingly. "Nobody knows we’re here. And all we’re doing is passing through on our way to the harbor. We’re going to Egypt ."

" Egypt ?"

"I had a letter from a friend," Xena said stiffly. "We’re going to help her out."

Hercules nodded slowly. " Egypt should be good," he said, slowly relaxing and returning to his more normal demeanor. "They have some powerful gods there. They won’t take kindly to our gods trespassing on their turf—you should be safe."

"Not to mention that they have some really great tourist attractions," Iolaus put in brightly, as grateful as Gabrielle that the awkward moment had passed. He jerked his arm suddenly, and a fish leapt out of the water, wriggling and shimmering at the end of his line. It was the third one he’d caught while Hercules stood in the creek. "Better come out of the water, old friend," he said with a grin. "I caught ‘em—you can do the cooking."

Gabrielle felt her lips curve upwards in a crooked smile. Now, as her body lay in a mass of fuzzy agony, the meal stood out like a diamond in her memory. The four of them had feasted so happily, as relaxed and comfortable as good friends could be. It had been a wonderful interlude, a break from all the stress and worry of the last several months. "I remember now," she said. "You caught us some fish. And cooked them too—Hercules weaseled out of it at the last moment. Said he had to give Xena some pointers on coping with the Egyptian pantheon."

Iolaus’s voice was relieved. "That’s right, Gabrielle. Amazing how we sidekicks always end up doing all the real work," he said. "What else do you remember?"

"Just the look on Hercules’ face when you caught that last fish before he’d even caught one." Gabrielle laughed a little, recalling the demigod’s expression when he’d realized he’d waded into the creek and gotten his pants soaked for nothing. "It’s a good thing he’s such a good sport."

Iolaus chuckled gently. "Yes, it is," he said. "But if Hercules hadn’t been so busy yelling at Xena, he would have gotten the fish long before me. That method only works when you’re willing to be perfectly silent and still. Otherwise the fish get scared off."

"I know," Gabrielle said. "Xena taught me, years ago. The hardest thing was keeping my mouth shut. I was still firmly in my chatterbox phase.  Sometimes I wonder how Xena ever managed to get by without killing me." She gave a short bark of laughter. "He had a point."

"Who did?"

"Hercules. Yelling at us. Was--*stupid*--coming back." Drat. She was loosing it again. Complete sentences now seemed totally unmanageable.

"Oh." Iolaus understood. "Gabrielle, don’t blame yourself. Or Xena. You had to do what you had to do."

"I’s not. Blaminus." Double drat. Now even the few words she could manage were slurring. "Juss—conceedin’ the point." She peeled back her eyelid, trying to look at him squarely. "How badm’I?"

A pause. "Are you sure you really want to know?"

Eek. That didn’t sound good. "Yeth."

He sighed. "It’s bad, Gabrielle. Even I’m not sure how bad. The only things that are broken are a couple of your ribs, but you’re bruised all over and there may be internal damage I can’t see. The thing that scares me the most is the head injury." For the first time, Iolaus sounded genuinely frightened. "Gabrielle—if Xena was here she could do all kinds of amazing things with pressure points, and Hercules could use the healing methods he learned from Chiron, but they aren’t. You’re stuck with me. I—I’ve been treating you with a decoction of datura, so the pain isn’t too bad. That’s why your head’s so fuzzy."

She nodded. "So’kay, Iolaus," she said, hoping a degree of reassurance was audible through the slur. "You done good. I *know*." She was getting tired again, feeling the cloak of unconsciousness hovering close. But there was one more thing she had to know before she surrendered. "Iolaus? Wha’ *happened?*"

There was another strained silence. "You’re sure you don’t remember?"

She strained really hard, hoping to catch the errant memory on a hook the same way Iolaus had caught the fish by the creek. But it was no use. "No."

"Well—" There was a rustle as Iolaus shifted his weight. "They caught up with us, Gabrielle. Athena and Hades and I don’t know who else. They showered us with thunder bolts and balls of flame. We were going to be okay—Hercules was taking us to a secret cave, one only he and Zeus knew about—but the lightning hit just as we reached the cave mouth. You were riding Argo behind Xena and Eve. I saw you fall, and then I passed out.  When I came to, you were lying on the ground.  I dragged you into the cave." He sounded weary, deadly tired. "You were the only one I found."

"What?" Gabrielle’s words came out in a sort of a gasp. "Not Xena? Not *Eve*?"

She couldn’t see it, but Iolaus dropped his head wearily into his hands. "I don’t know, Gabrielle. I couldn’t find them."

"Oh, no." It came out as a kind of groan. "Oh, no. No." The cloak of oblivion dropped lower and lower. This time Gabrielle didn’t care if she ever came out of it.

"Gabrielle." The voice was insistent. "Gabrielle! Don’t-- *don’t*--go to sleep again thinking that they’re dead. They aren’t. They’re just in a different place, okay? Okay?"

There were very few people whose voices could have reached her at that moment, but fortunately Iolaus's was one of them. Gabrielle nodded once, a bare spasm of movement, and went under.

***

It was like the time she’d eaten the drugged nut bread, only worse. That time the herbal displacement of reality had only brought euphoria—at least until she came crashing down. This was worse. This time, Gabrielle's dream world was built on a backbone of pain, so that every thought and vision she had was laced with either the ache in her body or the throb in her heart. She dreamed terrible things—saw Xena’s and Eve’s dismembered bodies scattered by laughing gods—and not so terrible things, like she was five years old again and running through Potedia with a beautiful dark-haired playmate. There was no logic to any of it, and whenever Gabrielle thought she’d found a place where the world made sense it was likely to be another illusion, a soap bubble that would pop in a flash. Her mind would have to start over from scratch.

It was sometime in the midst of all this that she had her first dream about Ares. If it was a dream. Gabrielle would never be sure.

He poured out of the darkness the way molten silver poured into a mold, one moment nothing but fluid gleam, the next a thing of sharp-edged brilliance. Gabrielle peered at him, confused. His beard looked matted and unkempt, and there was a slash of fresh blood under his left eye. But the leering smile never changed. "Gabrielle," he greeted.

"Ares." She chuckled bitterly, feeling the painful echo in her ribs. "Well. This is an interesting hallucination. I don’t think I’ve ever had one like it."

"Hallucination?  Is that what you think I am?"

The god stepped closer, frowning. The flicker from the single candle Iolaus had left her played roughly over his hair, his skin, and the silver medallion he always wore around his neck. Standing close to her, she could now see that there were dark circles under his eyes in addition to the blood, circles that spoke of profound fatigue. "Of course you are," she said. "The real Ares, God of War, would never look like something the cat dragged in. Even when you were mortal you looked better than this."

To her surprise, the war god’s lips tightened, and he lowered his head. He mumbled something into his chest. Gabrielle turned her head awkwardly, trying to catch the words. "What was that?"

He lifted his head to glare at her. The candle flame found two twins in his eyes, white-hot fatal flickers. "When I was mortal I wasn’t fighting my family."

"You?  Fighting your family?  Nice try, Ares." Gabrielle shook her head. "Nothing you can say is going to make me believe that you’re on our side in this. Not one single thing."

"Believe whatever in Tartarus you want." Ares snapped. "Your belief means nothing to me. It won’t change the truth. You would never have reached these caves alive if I hadn’t intervened."

She opened her mouth, shut it, opened it again. "I don’t remember…"

"I know you don’t. It’s just as well." The dark god smiled savagely. "Let’s just say that absorbing one of Athena’s lightning strikes is no picnic. Even for a god." He looked over her body appraisingly. His glance lingered on her chest, making Gabrielle blush, but he wasn’t staring at her breasts.  Instead he was examining the bruises and the bandages Iolaus had wrapped around her broken ribs. "I couldn’t prevent the aftershocks from hitting you. I’m sorry about that."

"You’re *sorry*?" Gabrielle laughed incredulously. "This *must* be a hallucination, then. Ares, god of war, apologizes to no man. No woman either."

"Don’t you mortals say that there’s a first time for everything?"

"That’s right, we do." She giggled, giddily. The datura must really be getting to her. "Why don’t we make the occasion really special, then? Take me to Xena. Let her witness your apology too."

“I can’t.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him.  “You mean you won’t.”

“No.  I mean I can’t."

"Can’t?" She repeated the word hollowly, hearing it echo and echo away into the cave. Ares was a god, capable of taking a mortal across a continent in the blink of an eye.  Assuming he was right and this really wasn’t a hallucination, Gabrille could only think of one reason why he truly couldn’t take her to Xena.’ "Can’t? Oh gods. No." Nausea threatened to overwhelm her, but she clung to the pseudo reality around her, determined to get out her next question. "Where is she? Tartarus? Elysia? The Amazon Hunting Grounds? Or someplace else?"

"Stupid mortal." Ares's voice actually seemed to hold a hint of affection.  "I didn’t say Xena was dead. She’s safe. So, I might add, is Eve, and even my tedious half brother. All I said was that I couldn’t take you to them."

"Why not?"

"Have you wondered why you’re still breathing, Gabrielle? Why you’re safe here, depressing a place as ‘here’ may be?" He leaned in close, dark eyes becoming her entire world. She could feel the heat of his breath, almost feel the tickle of his beard. "All of the Olympian gods are helpless here. The cave walls block out our powers."

"But…you made it here…"

"Not…quite." He sighed, pulling back. "You aren’t truly in the cave either, as a matter of fact, or I wouldn’t even be able to talk to you. You’re half in reality, half in Morpheous’s realm, thanks to that vile brew Iolaus keeps feeding you." Ares shook his head. "What my brother sees in that small mortal…"

Gabrielle shook this digression away, forcing her mind to stay on the truly important. "Xena is safe?"

"Yes."

"Where is she?"

"Not far. Maybe a quarter of a mile to the west of you, in another part of the caverns. The entrance to their tunnel caved in."

Angrily Gabrielle tried to sit up, succeeding only in rumpling her coverlet. "Then why in Tartarus are you here with me? Shouldn’t you be figuring out a way to contact Xena instead? Help her find another way out?"

"Relax, little bard." No, she couldn’t be mistaken now. There definitely was affection in the war god’s voice. "My muscle-bound brother does have some uses. He and Xena are well on their way to rescuing themselves. You’ll be reunited in a little more than week."

"Then why are you here?"

"To give you the power to keep Xena safe. She won’t take it from me."

Gabrielle frowned. This was getting stranger by the moment.  "Didn’t you just say you were powerless?"

"I am. Here."

"Then I don’t understand.  It sounds like Xena and Hercules are taking care of themselves.  And there’s nothing you could do to help them even if they weren’t."

"I’m talking about what’s going to happen after you leave this place. After you heal. After the five of you are reunited." His eyes glittered darkly. "It’s not going to get any easier, Gabrielle. The gods will keep hounding you."

Gabrieele felt her breath catch.  The truth of this was undeniable. She ought to know; she’d been trying the denial route for months. The thought of what their future was going to be like—always running, never at home—was so painful that she’d shoved it down deep to the very bottom of her heart. But of course it hadn’t stayed there. "We’ll manage somehow."

"No. You won’t."

Nothing could make the inevitable sound as inevitable as a god. Ares’s tone of certainty was like a rock crashing down upon Gabrielle's abused ribs. She wanted to say something clever and snippy, like "So when did Hera make you one of the Fates?", but she couldn’t, because she knew he was right. She, and Xena, and Eve, were all living on borrowed time. Of that there could be no question. "What do you have in mind?"

"A gift."

She laughed. "Your gifts always have strings, Ares."

"In this case, it only has one." He leaned toward her again, chest hovering a few inches from her arm. His body was strong and dark and oppressive…and warm. She was startled by that, how warm his skin seemed to be within the coldness of the cave. "The string is this: I want you to stay with Xena, Gabrielle. Keep her safe. If you’ll do that…then you may have my Gift. And incredible power to go with it."

“Don’t be stupid, Ares," Gabrielle replied. "Xena is my life. I will never abandon her and Eve, and I will do everything I can to keep them from harm. You know that.  And you would never give a mortal anything for doing what she was going to do anyway.” She shifted uncomfortably.  “What is this Gift, anyway?"

"Joy."

"Joy?" She laughed again. "What power can there possibly be in that? Ares, Xena and I have known plenty of joy during our travels together. You can’t fight the gods with it."

"There is great power in the kind of joy I have to offer."

"Oh? And what kind of joy could the God of War possibly have to offer me?"

"The kind of joy that can be found in killing. In death."

He was serious.  A thrill of horror, terrible and squirmy, ran over Gabrielle's skin. "What in Tartarus makes you think I would ever take pleasure in that?"

"You can’t.  Not now. But with my help you can.  And I think you *will* decide you want my help." Ares dropped to his knees beside her pallet, all teasing gone. He was in absolute, deadly earnest. "I’ve been watching you for a long time, Gabrielle. First because of your hold over Xena, then because of your own strength intrigued me. There is the stuff of a great warrior in you, Gabrielle. I know it, you know it, Xena knows it…even Iolaus and Hercules know it.  But your parents did you a great disservice.”

She tried to give him her best sarcastic voice.  It sounded thin and childlike even to her own ears.  “Do tell.”

“You already know what it was, Gabrielle.  You just don’t want to admit it.  Heroditus and Hecuba wanted a proper little girl; their efforts to make you into one almost ended up breaking your spirit.  They imposed an impossible list of ‘rights’ and ‘wrongs’ upon you, standards no woman of strength could possibly live up to.  They clipped your wings at every opportunity, insisted you put everyone else’s needs before your own.”  His lip curled disdainfully.  “And then they gave you a conscience.”

“That’s a bad thing?”

“For you it is.  Gabrielle, you’ve overcome most of what your parents taught you.  You’ve grown into a fitting companion for Xena and a competent warrior in your own right.  But I tell you this: your heart is still too soft.  You will never…*never*… reach your full potential until you learn to stop grieving your enemy’s deaths as harshly as you would your own." His hand crept out over the pallet, reaching toward her beseechingly. "I can stop that, Gabrielle.  I can give you freedom from that grief."

Gabrielle felt one of her arms start to lift, reaching toward his hand, mesmerized. Appalled, she snatched it back, blushing hotly under Ares’s knowing gaze. "I didn’t think soothing mortal’s guilty consciences was part of your job description, Ares."

"Isn’t it?" Ares threw back his head and laughed, his arms spread wide. "What do you think the God of War *does*, Gabrielle? Why do you think humans worship me?"

 Gabrielle couldn’t answer. In truth, she had always wondered that very thing. Ares leaned in close. "I see you are stumped, so I’ll tell you. It isn’t because I can give them strength, or courage, or ease their way into the Elysian Fields with a glorious death. No. It is because I can give them freedom from pain."

"You don’t…"

"I do." Ares interrupted. "War is a terrible thing, Gabrielle. Maybe you still believe humans are all murderers by nature. You’re wrong. Nearly every human being alive is like you, and flinches when the time comes to strike that fatal blow. It is *hard* to look into another man’s eyes and take his life, even if he is your enemy, even if he has raped your lover and slaughtered your children. But sometime it is necessary. When it is, I come to people and help them…I give them a pleasure in the kill so great it is almost orgasmic, a pleasure in survival so strong that it drowns out all the voices and guilt. *That* is why I am the most feared and honored of all the Olympian gods, Gabrielle. I help people do what must be done."

She kept silent.  What, really, could she say? "I know what it was like for you after you killed Meridian ," Ares continued, dropping his voice. "The pain, the suffering in your dreams. I know how it drove you to Eli, to that foolish vow never to kill again. But you couldn’t stick to it, Gabrielle. I know."

Tears started running down her face, angry and impotent tears. "Why must you remind me of that?"

"Ah, Gabrielle. Not to torment you, as you might think," Are said, with unbelievable gentleness. "I want to applaud you. You broke your vow to protect Xena. Because your love for her was worth suffering through all the pain and guilt your murders caused. That was noble, Gabrielle. The noblest thing a mortal woman could do."

She broke into a horrible cough, spasms wracking her shattered ribs. Ares quietly lifted her chest off of the furs, giving her a better angle for drawing breath. Gradually, the cough subsided. "No one else sees it that way."

"No. But few people know the world as I do." He lowered her gently back to the pallet, resumed his crouch at her side. "Gabrielle, you may well be the only thing that stands between Xena and a horrible death. But deep in your heart you still think killing is wrong. Any killing, no matter how justified. The split second that your conscience makes you hesitate may be imperceptible to other humans—but you are up against the Olympian gods now, and they will use it. My Gift can change that. Just think about it, Gabrielle." His voice became caressing, sweet. "What if the next time some petty minion of Athena threatened Eve you could simply reach out and kill him without a second thought?  What if you could take pleasure in the act? No second thoughts, no regrets—just the ability to do what you need to do. It could be glorious!"

She was shaking. "No," she said. "No, I can’t. I can’t give up everything I am!"

"Then sometime soon, you will be at a crossroads, and you will hesitate. And Xena and Eve will die." Ares got to his feet, gloriously tall, glowing with and inborn beauty despite his tattered appearance. "I didn’t think I would get your answer now, Gabrielle. It is too much for a little mind like yours to take in all at once. But you will think about it, and in the end you will see that I am right. You will accept my Gift."

"No." Even to her own ears, Gabrielle's voice sounded little, immature.

Ares smirked. "I will be back," he said. And disappeared.

***

Eventually, as Gabrielle’s broken ribs began to knit together, Iolaus cut down on the datura, giving her the full strength infusion only to help Gabrielle sleep at night. It was almost like the time Ares had put her and Xena into the same body. Then, the two women had taken turns being in the world, each taking over for the other one when the sun rose or set. Now, she was still cycling, only there was no Xena on the other side. During the day, she was Gabrielle again. And during the night she was locked in a dark room, with her imaginings the only escape...

She was very grateful for the daytime, for those brief moments of sunlit clarity. Often she thought about how good Iolaus was, how kind he was to stay with her when she knew all he wanted to do was search for Hercules. He had to want that; all Gabrielle wanted to do was to look for Xena, after all. But Iolaus was patient, feeding her, talking to her when she was able, cleaning her body of urine and feces in such a way that Gabrielle didn’t even mind the invasion of privacy. Once when he had finished bathing her hands and chest and had moved on to carefully sponging her face, she spoke up. "Iolaus? Can I ask you a question?"

Iolaus’s face took on a resigned expression. "You want to know if Hercules and I are lovers?"

"No!" She practically shouted the word, ashamed. That wasn’t what she meant at all, she’d never thought he’d think she’d…Then curiosity got the better of her, and she cocked her head. "Are you?"

"Not at the moment."

"At the moment?"  Gabrielle repeated. Iolaus nodded and went on cleaning her face.  She ducked her head away from the cloth, knowing that she really shouldn’t ask anything more, but unable to stop herself.  "Uh…does that mean that in the past…"

"Yup.  It does." Iolaus smiled at her embarrassment. "We seem to give it a try every couple of years. The last time was just before Serena came on the scene. It never works out for long."

She was fascinated. "Really?"

"Yeah." Iolaus nodded matter-of-factly. "For some reason we just never get along when we're trying to be lovers. Herc’s too cautious, I’m too pig-headed—it’s a bad scene all the way around. And that’s all right. We’re partners forever, and he will always be the most important person in my life. It’s just that it always works out better when we don’t try to be each other’s bed-mates, too." He grinned. "Sometimes I let people *think* we are, though—it has proven to be useful. Lots of people are much less willing to start a fight with me if they think I’m the big guy’s property."

This revelation made Gabrielle laugh. "Tell me about it!" she said. "I used to do the same thing, before I learned how to use my staff. It was amazing how quickly people would discover other interests if they thought I was the Warrior Princess’s love slave." She grew thoughtful. "Of course, that was long before I actually *was* the Warrior Princess's love slave. Xena probably *would* chakram any idiot stupid enough to make a pass at me now." Iolaus nodded, grinning. Gabrielle felt her laughter die. "Iolaus?"

"Yes?"

There was no point in putting it off any longer. "How many people have you killed?"

The hunter didn’t seem at all taken aback by question. Instead he just wrung out the cloth he was using and switched to a dry one. "Enough."

"You can’t remember the exact number?"

"No." Iolaus looked sad. "I could give you a rough guess if you really wanted, but it’d probably be on the low side. I’ve been in too many wars, the kind where you don’t remember anything afterwards except the noise and the smell, to be sure. And unlike Hercules, I don’t always have the luxury of throwing my opponents across the room without hurting them." He patted Gabrielle’s face gently with the dry cloth, careful to kept away from her eyes. "Keeping that sort of tally looses its attraction as you age, Gabrielle."

"Funny," Gabrielle said meditatively. "Xena once said the exact same thing, when I asked. Way back when I still wore long skirts and a peasant blouse. It still amazes me that I had the nerve to bring it up." She closed her eyes, settling into the pallet. Iolaus switched cloths again and started washing her feet. The cool wetness felt very good against her skin. "But that’s what she said only after I pressed her. Her first answer was ‘Too many.’"

Iolaus chuckled softly. "I can imagine."

"Can you?" Gabrielle opened one green eye, looking at him curiously. "Iolaus? Why is essentially the same number—too high to count, I mean—‘too many’ for Xena and just ‘enough’ for you?"

The warrior hesitated as he cleaned between her toes. He wasn’t offended, Gabrielle was relieved to see. He was just trying to think of a good answer. "Well, first there’s the sheer numbers," he said at last. "At the very worst, I could only have killed about a hundred people. If the stories about the Destroyer of Nations are true…"

Gabrielle pressed her eyes closed. There had been a time when she’d hoped the stories were all exaggerations, when she’d thought the Destoryer was a myth, nothing more. Time had taught her that the real atrocities of Xena’s dark career had never made it into legend. If anything, the truth was a hundred times worse. "They are."

"Then Xena could easily lay claim to thousands." Iolaus carefully dried each toe before moving up to her ankles. "Also, there’s the circumstances under which we killed. Xena in the old days was out for revenge, for glory, for profit. That’s never been true of me."

"Never?"

"No." The hunter shook his head seriously. "Not ever. I have never killed except to defend myself or a cause I believed in. So, while I hope I never have to take another life, I’m at peace with the ones I have taken. I don’t have any regrets, Gabrielle."

"How can’t you?" She pulled her feet away, a sudden flair of anger making her voice shrill. The anger wasn’t directed at Iolaus, not exactly. But he was in the way. "How can you ever know which cause is the right one, which side is worth killing for? How can you even know that your life is worth more than another’s? How can you stomach playing god?"

Iolaus was amused. "As far as I can see, the Olympians aren’t any better at making those sorts of decisions than we are, Gabrielle."

"You know what I mean!"

"Yes. I think I do." Iolaus reached, gently but firmly, for her ankles. Reluctantly she let him draw them back down, although she kept her muscles tensed. "Look at it this way," he said as he continued to scrub. "I *don’t* ever know that I’ve made the right decision, not for sure. But I always know that I’ve made the best decision I can."

"Even when somebody dies?"

"*Especially* when someone dies," Iolaus said, heat creeping into his words for the first time since the conversation began. "I don’t kill in anger, Gabrielle, and I don’t kill for joy. Instead, I consider every situation, every fight, before I use deadly force—usually long before they ever happen. Sure, sometimes I’ve been wrong. Sometimes I have made a bad choice.  But that’s part of being human. The only certainty I can offer to anyone is that I always do the best I can. And I always have."

He put the cloth away. Gabrielle watched him with wonder, and a growing envy. "You don’t get the nightmares, then."

"I didn’t say that." The gentle amusement was back. "More than once I’ve woken up with Hercules holding me down, keeping me from hurting myself while I thrash. But for the most part, the nightmares are about what I *couldn’t* do, the people I couldn’t save. Not about what I did."

Gabrielle stretched feebly. Sleepiness was rapidly returning to her now that she was clean, sapping away her strength. "I wish I could do that," she said dully. "I can remember every person I’ve ever killed. Every single one. I can still see every face."

Iolaus stood and moved beyond her vision, putting away the cloths and water bowls. "Time will fade those memories, Gabrielle."

Her voice was rueful. "It hasn’t yet."

"It will." Strong hands pulled the coverlet up to her shoulders, tucking her in. "It will. Sleep now, Gabrielle."

She did.

***

Now that there was a definite difference between being awake and being asleep, Gabrielle’s trips into Morpheous’s land had changed. It wasn’t a change for the better. One scene kept repeating, again and again: Meridian standing in the paradisiacal field, just as she had in the nightmares Gabrielle had endured before Hope’s birth. But now, instead of Gabrielle killing Meridian , Gabrielle simply embraced the girl. She’d made her choice…she would never kill again…

But then Meridian would twist out of her grasp, shoving a knife into the belly of a pregnant Xena. Sometimes the nightmare ended there. But other times, Gabrielle would have to watch Meridian literally cut Eve out of Xena’s body. She would watch Xena’s tall proud body collapse and the blue eyes glaze, silently pleading for Gabrielle to act. And sometimes she swore she could hear Ares laugh.

It was after one of these scenes that Gabrielle first realized she wasn’t alone…at least, not in the strange in-between reality she now inhabited. She was again in the cave, and Ares was standing with her, watching as she lay on the pallet. "It’s time," he said. "Come with me, little bard."

She laughed at him. She was getting better, it was true. Yesterday Iolaus had propped her up and she had actually taken two steps, stretching unused legs. But there was no way she was up for travel. Especially not with Ares. "Think again, Ares. Unless you’ve found a way to use your godly traveling powers in these caves, I’m not going anywhere.  I’m weaker than a newborn kitten."

"Only in your body, Gabrielle. Only in your flesh," Ares said. "And even your body is stronger. I no longer have to do all the work. With your body healing so well your spirit can leave long enough to meet me halfway, without any danger of your flesh dying in its absence." He held out his hands. "Come."

Lightning flashed, and suddenly Gabrielle was surrounded by cold. Snow crunched under her feet, chill wind whipped through her hair. Her eyes watered, stung by the tiny ice crystals in the air—there was too much space in front of her, too much landscape, too much height. With a start she released she was standing on a mountain peak. Snow stretched out in every direction for as far as she could see.

Ares smirked at her awed expression. He helped her into a warm fur robe, nodding at the panorama before her. "What do you think of it?"

"It’s beautiful," she said, honestly. "And terrible. So lonely…"

"Yes," Ares said with relish, breathing in the cool air. His hands lingered on her shoulder where he’d held her robe, red-coal warm. "Welcome to one of the darkest places in the known world, Gabrielle. I found Xena here, once." His teeth gleamed. "It was right before she decided to punish you for Solan’s death. You remember.  Right before she used that horse to drag your body over land and sea."

Gabrielle winced. It was not a scene she ever wanted to recall. "Why bring me here, then?"

"You already know why. This is a place of great loneliness. And we need to be alone."

Gabrielle looked up at the god, suspicious of him, suspicious of her own body’s sensations. She could feel every inch of the lean, hard body pressed against her back. Ares was the only source of heat in the entire landscape, and she was helpless to keep from leaning into it. His hands started to make small circling motions over her collar bone. "I needed to get you away from everything you’ve ever known before I showed you, little bard," Ares murmured, hot breath tickling her ear. "Otherwise you’d never see it with a pure heart."

She shuddered. "See what?"

"My Gift. The joy I promised."

"I don’t want to see that!"

Gabrielle tried to turn in Ares’s grasp, anger flashing in her eyes. He held her as if all her struggles were of no more consequence than a butterfly’s.   "I know you don’t," he said. "But you will, before you leave this place. You will see it, for the same reason that I will show it to you. For Xena."

She shook her head, anger evaporating. She was on firmer ground, now. "I know you love her, Ares."

His eyes went bottomless. "Yes."

"And I know that you’re scared now. Scared that you won’t be able to protect her from the other gods, even with all your powers. That’s why you’re offering me…this." He nodded once, sharply. "But I won’t take it, Ares. I won’t."

"No?"

"No." She shook her head. "I’m not like most mortals, Ares. I have the strength to say no. I turned you down once before, you know. After Eli died."

"Yesss…" The words was a hiss, dying away over the distant peaks. Slowly, Ares released his grip, letting her go. She felt her body sag. "But that was a different thing, Gabrielle. Then it was pure power I offered you, a portion of my divinity. You were right to turn that down. It would have corrupted you." He shrugged his massive shoulders. "This Gift I'm offering you is actually a very human thing. It's a natural human talent, rare though it is. It is your birthright, Gabrielle. All you have to do is take it." He raised his arms.

Lightning danced over the mountaintop.

Gabrielle blinked. Suddenly she was dressed, not in the tatters of her leather halter and skirt, but in something more like Xena’s habitual outfit, breastplate and all. Her sais were in her hand, points forward. She turned to use them on Ares, but the sensation of the metal in her hand distracted her—it felt good, it felt powerful, it felt great. It wasn’t at all like the normal feeling of satisfaction she felt whenever she was in the middle of a fight. That was a quiet feeling of strength, of pride in her body and what she could do; and always it was mixed with a heady brew of fear, that this might be the time her hand slipped and the other bastard won. This was different. This time there was no fear, and the pride had given way to something else. Anticipation.

Eagerness.

Lust.

Gabrielle’s tongue, small and pink, licked out over her lips. She met Ares’s gaze with a gleam in her green eyes, and saw Ares smiled in pleased recognition. Her heart beat harder, faster. It was exhilarating. "More," she said. "Give it to me…"

"Yes. Oh, yes, Gabrielle, I will." He waved his hand again. "You will have it all."

The mountaintop bent and reformed, became an icy plain with room for about a hundred people to stand. And a hundred people there were. Gabrielle smiled coldly as she recognized each of the faces. There was Callisto, and Alti, and Ceasar, and all the roman guards she’d killed before her crucifixion. There was even the mob of thugs that Xena had rescued Gabrielle and Lila from on the day they first met. Gabrielle gave a shout of joy and waded in. Alti fell first, her neck blooming with a bright necklace of blood; Caesar she disemboweled, and Callisto was stabbed the same way Callisto had killed Perdicus. Then came the uncountable dozens of near-identical thugs, the petty criminals who had threatened her and Xena over the years. Gabrielle mowed them down the way a farmer might mow a field, reveling in every scream. At last, to be so powerful! At last, to feel so good! Nothing could stop her now…

When the field was nothing but a sea of blood and bodies, she turned back to Ares, wiping the gore and sweat from her brow with a look of pure joy. He was lounging sensually against a boulder, watching her with satisfaction.  "Good," the war god purred. "Very good. Now look at your victims, Gabrielle. Look at the bodies."

She did. Looking at her handiwork was even better than the killing! She loved the scent of the blood. She loved the way the gore caked her hands and stiffened her hair; it was such a sensual feeling, erotic, alive. And there was so much satisfaction in knowing it was her enemies who had bled to give her this, in knowing that they would never move again. "Is this what Xena felt?" she asked. "When she was The Destroyer?"

"It was."

"I always wondered…" Gabrielle stared into the pile of carnage, feeling an ecstasy greater than anything she’d ever known sear through her body. "Why are you offering this to me? I know you’ve always loved Xena best. Surely if you showed her this, she would take the Gift for herself."

"I’ve offered. She won’t take it. Not even to save Eve." Ares shrugged his massive shoulders. "My only hope is you."

Gabrielle grinned. "Then hope no more. My mind’s made up." She planted her feet firmly in the gore, straightening her back. "Give it to me."

"How I wish I could," Ares said wistfully. "You look so beautiful, little bard. You have no idea how killing suits you. That fire in your heart, the lust inside your eyes…" He stopped himself. "But Xena will have my head if I force this on you unconsenting. You must choose for yourself, *as* yourself. This was just a trial run."

The world moved a degree to the left, snapped into place and refocused. The bodies remained just long enough for Gabrielle to get a whiff of their stench, sickening her to her gut. Mercifully, the plain then disappeared, replaced by the pristine vista of snow. "That was…" she started to say, and could find no words.

"That was your future." Ares stepped in close. "All you have to do is ask for it."

"No!" Gabrielle felt sudden tears streak her cheeks, leaving tiny frozen crystals of salt behind. "No. It’s monstrous."

"Not monstrous." Ares said soberly. "Necessary. If you truly want to do all you can to protect Xena and Eve." Ares sighed; he looked tired, now, and almost as bedraggled as when he’d first appeared in her cave. "Gabrielle," he said. "You don’t have any choices left."

She shook her head vehemently, feeling her hair whip her cheeks. The wind whistled desolately. "No. I can’t believe that. There’s *always* another choice."  

"No. Sometimes there isn’t."

“Why not simply give me some kind of foreknowledge?  I can’t kill because I never know for sure it’s the right choice…you could fix that, make it so I always knew it was the only option.  I could do it then…I wouldn’t hesitate…”

“Ah, little bard.”  Ares sounded genuinely mournful.  “Seeing all the possible consequences of an act clearly is a power reserved for the gods, and not even we have mastered it fully.  I already told you.  I can give you no divinity.  I can only give you what might rightfully have belonged to you from the start:  enough pleasure in the kill to drown out the naggings of your conscience.  It is the only way.”  He looked away into the distance suddenly, clearly seeing something other than the ice and snow. When he turned his head back there was a faint smile on his lips. "Ah. Xena and Hercules have broken through the cave-in."

"They have?" It almost made her dizzy, the sudden rush of hope. "Are they all right?"

"Yes." He nodded. "Xena is on her way, Gabrielle. She will be with you in less than a day. You have that much time to make up your mind." And suddenly she was back in the cave again, alone.

***

Within the hour, the fever returned, turning Gabrielle's skin hot and slick. Gabrielle knew she was fully awake now, but she was in no shape to notice her body’s discomfort—all of that paled next to the disturbance in her mind. She was half aware of Iolaus coming to her and laying worried hands on her forehead; she saw him place them there, but she could hardly feel them. All she could think of, all she could feel, was the terrible burden of her choice. What was she going to do?

"I’m a warrior now," she said out loud. "I never really want to be, but I have to be. For Xena. For Eve."

*Yes, that's right Gabrielle,*  murmured an arrogant voice from the shadows. *That's right. I can make you the greatest warrior it is in you to be.*

"Shhh, Gabrielle. Easy now. It’s going to be all right," crooned Iolaus. She could see his grubby face with its two-week growth of beard hovering over her. Funny, that he'd taken care of her so assiduously, and neglected to wash or shave himself. "Easy there, sweetheart. Nobody's ever asked you to be more than you can be. Not me, not baby Eve, not Xena. Especially not Xena."

"No," she agreed. "I'm asking it of myself. I decided that was the path I had to follow, back in Rome . Then I decided again, when Eli resurrected us and Xena couldn't remember who she was. I picked up the sais instead of a new staff—do you think I didn't know what I was doing? And I decided still again, when I found out she was pregnant." Gabrielle giggled, an appalling sound. "Decision after decision, all leading to this. To becoming a…a killer."

*Yes. That's right, sweet Gabrielle. Become the killer you need to be. Unleash all that beautiful power you have inside.*

"Being a warrior is not the same as being a killer," Iolaus said, his hands moving in a blur as he pressed cool cloth after cool cloth to her head. He didn't know why he was having such a serious conversation with a clearly delirious woman, but somehow he knew he had to, and he knew he had to make each word count. He had the sickening feeling that his voice was the only thing keeping Gabrielle back from some kind of abyss. "Xena must have taught you that."

"Maybe," Gabrielle conceded, her voice dying down to a whisper. "A killer kills all the time. A warrior kills only when she has to. But the people end up just as dead."

*See that? The pain you feel at that thought? I can make that go away forever, Gabrielle. Let me.*

"That's true," Iolaus answered, feeling his heart die. He didn't know how to help the beautiful young woman struggling in front of him, but he knew lying wasn't the way to go about it. He clenched his fist helplessly. "I don't know what to tell you, Gabrielle."

She smiled. "You've said enough. Iolaus?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you..." She passed out. Iolaus crouched at her side, knowing instinctively that he had done all he could. He let the compress in his hand drop, bent his head. "Safe journey, Gabrielle," he whispered.

In Morpheous's land, Gabrielle wandered gloomy cobwebbed halls, confronting old ghosts at every turn. They weren’t the ghosts of the people she'd killed, or even the ones she’d wished she’d killed. Instead they were the ghosts of warriors, people she had fought beside, people she knew as friends. She passed them all in turn, bare feet drawing a dark path through the dust. Each one smiled as she went by, but no one said a word. Nothing made a sound, except for Gabrielle's own thoughts. *I can't be like Hercules,* she thought, walking by the form of the large demi-god, standing statue-still. *I'm not semi-divine. As Iolaus said, I don't always have the luxury of tossing my enemies across a room. I don’t have godly strength.  I can't always win my fights without causing permanent harm.* She passed a beautiful blonde in Amazon leathers next, beaming out at her with good comradeship. *Nor can I be like you, Ephiny. You hid your horror at what you had to do by making yourself so angry at injustices done to your tribe, you didn’t have time to feel anything else.  You never stopped to think--well, almost never. I admire you, but I can't be you. I can't hide behind my anger.*

The next shadow hid a familiar dark haired figure, blue eyes beaming in the dark with all their earthly fire. *I can't even be like you, my beloved, my life* Gabrielle thought sadly, reaching up to touch Xena's still cheek. *People say it's your past you're atoning for, but I know the truth. You fight just as often to redeem your present, and the future you fear lies ahead. I see it everyday, Xena, see how you spend your life constantly dancing between fear and guilt. It tears my heart, and I can't do it. It's not my path.*

For the first time she heard a sound in the corridor, lonely as the whistling wind. It swirled around her, tossed her own thoughts back into her ears. *Then what is, Gabrielle?*

She couldn’t answer. She didn’t know.

Abruptly, the hallway dead-ended, coming to a blank wall. She saw Ares first, standing to one side of the wall in all his arrogant glory, beaming. "I knew you would see it my way," the figure told her, smiling with expected victory. "Think of what I offer. Joy. Not fear, not guilt--you said yourself that you cannot live with either of them for companions. I'm your only option left."

Gabrielle frowned. "There's always another option, Ares," she said. And when she looked across the hall, she saw Iolaus.

Iolaus. Gabrielle stared at him for a long moment, contrasting him with the dark god who balanced him on the other side of the hall. Tall to short. Dark to light. Strength to strength…but where Ares’s strength was divine, Iolaus’s was so very, very human. The blonde warrior looked bedraggled, his face shining with sweat. But the eyes that met hers were hopeful, with no trace of Ares's conceit. "Iolaus," she said calmly. "You're here."

He nodded, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. "Yeah. I guess I am. Do you have any idea why?"

She nodded soberly. "I think so.  You’re here because you have something to offer me, some way of living to propose. Ares has offered me joy. What do you have?"

"Nothing so great as that," Iolaus answered, eyebrows raising. "I can only give you what I've given myself."

"Which is?"

"Faith," he answered. "Not in any god or religion, but just…faith in myself. Enough confidence to trust that I will always make the best decisions I can. And…forgiveness for those times when I don't." He shrugged shyly. "It's the best I can do, Gabrielle. I wish I could do better."

She smiled. "It sounds pretty good to me."

"Nonsense," Ares said scornfully, speaking for the first time. He stepped out of his pose, great muscled arms swinging aggressively. *It figures,* Gabrielle thought. *Every other person in this strange place has stood patiently in the their places. Not even in my dreams will Ares play by the rules.* "Human self-confidence is such a fragile thing, Gabrielle. Even if you leave this place with it firmly in place, it will be tested a hundred thousand times, and any time might see its death! True forgiveness is even harder to come by. Now, what I offer you is a *permanent* solution."

"Permanence only belongs to the gods," Gabrielle answered. "You said yourself you could offer me no divinity, Ares.  I'm human. I hadn't realized it, but that's what I am. It's ridiculous to hold myself to higher standards. From now on, human is all I'll try to be."

"Not just any human," Iolaus said softly. "You'll be Gabrielle."

"Yes." She smiled. "And that's pretty good, isn't it. From now on I'll just be Gabrielle." She turned to the god. "You can go now, Ares. You've lost again."

Th hall shattered and melted away around her, leaving nothing but a blaze of white light. Gabrielle faced it calmly. Gradually the light resolved into the familiarity of her earthly body, still in the cave, still stretched on Iolaus's impromptu pallet. Her body felt weak, but it no longer felt broken, and there was a chill on her skin that told her the fever had broken. She settled down gratefully into dreamless sleep.

***

She woke to a tender touch on her cheek, warm sweet breath on her chin. "Iolaus?" she said tentatively, and when her query was answered by a melodious chuckle, she tried to sit up. "Xena!"

The cavern was brighter than it had ever been, lit with a good half dozen torches. Xena and Hercules must have brought them with them. Gabrielle just had time to see the most beautiful pair of blue eyes in the world before her own eyes were shut with pain. "No, Gabrielle," Xena said calmly, soothingly. "Don't get up. I'm here."

Oh gods. Xena's voice. If Gabrielle was blinded tomorrow she would still be a happy woman, her soul-deep need for beauty forever nourished by that wonderful voice. "Eve?"

An angry infant cry answered her question. Xena laughed. "In fine form, as you can tell," she said. "Our part of the caverns caved in, and she nearly drove Hercules and me both to distraction while we dug ourselves out. Hercules ended up tying his shirt over his ears--I doubt he’s going to renew his offer to be god father any time soon. And now she's hungry, poor thing." A tender hand softly brushed Gabrielle's hair. "Her mom's been kind of distracted since we arrived. You scared us, Gabrielle."

"I scared me, too," Gabrielle admitted. "How long have you been here?"

"Almost half a day."

"Did Iolaus finally get some sleep?"

Her question was greeted with a snort. "I almost had to put a neck pinch on him," Xena answered. "He didn't want to leave his 'patient'. But Hercules finally talked some sense into him. He's snoring somewhere near the cave mouth."

"Good. I'm glad he's resting. I owe him…more than I can say."

"We both do." Xena was quiet for a moment. Gabrielle reached out with her hand, and it was quickly enveloped in Xena’s own; Gabrielle sighed and relaxed, feeling perfectly safe and soothed. She’d missed that touch so very, very much. Xena cleared her throat. "Gabrielle?"

"Yes, Xena?"

Her warrior was remarkably hesitant. "Did something happen while I was gone? Something besides nearly dying of a fever, I mean? You look so different."

Gabrielle stretched luxuriantly, feeling happiness in every muscle. "I'm me now."

"You've always been you."

"Now I'm *just* me." Gabrielle cracked open an eye; Xena was looking at her skeptically, concern shadowing her eyes. Eve whimpered loudly. "Let me have her," Gabrielle said, and when Xena had settled the baby into the warm curve of her stomach Gabrielle smiled up at her reassuringly. "I mean it, Xena. I’m just me. Just Gabrielle. I’m not going to feel bad that I can’t be anyone else."

"Who else were you trying to be?" Xena sounded very curious and not a little bit worried. She definitely felt out of her depth.

"You know, I’m not sure? You, probably. Or Hercules. Or one of the other gods." She yawned. "Whoever it was, that’s all over now. Sorry, Xena. I'm afraid that Gabrielle is all you’re going to get."

"Gabrielle is all I ever wanted," Xena murmured, dropping a quick kiss onto Gabrielle’s face. Seeing that the bard was exhausted, she started to move away—but a pale hand stopped her. "Oh, no," Gabrielle said. "You don’t get away that easily." She shuffled over on the pallet, causing Eve to start crying. Both women reached to comfort her at the same moment, and Xena resettled the baby at Gabrielle’s side. Gabrielle patted the fur next to her. "You’ve been gone a long time," she observed. "I've been lonely. Want to snuggle?"

"I thought you’d never ask."

***

In the darkness, Ares watched the two women sleep. There were both so fragile, so mortal. He hoped the sleep would do them good. They were going to need every moment of rest they could get, if they were going to survive the days ahead. Ares watched over them, and thought.

Olympus was in flames. The coming of the Twilight was turning god against god, and if the carnage was not stopped soon, nothing on earth would remain inviolate. The slumbering women had no idea how bad things really were. Ares sighed and rubbed his face painfully. He wished, oh how he wished, that he could have talked Gabrielle into taking his Gift. The lack of conscience-pain would have made her magnificent, and he could have rested securely in the knowledge that Xena had the most powerful protector either human or god could devise. But clearly the younger woman believed she could do just fine on her own. Ares studied her sleeping face, and shrugged. Maybe she could. Maybe there were, after all, some kinds of strength no god of war could ever fully understand. Maybe it would be enough.

Maybe.

Ares shook his head. He had battles of his own to fight, if he was to come through the Twilight alive. For now all he could do was watch, and wait—if he saw the women’s human strengths begin to falter, then he could step in, offer them some of his own. Perhaps they would take it, perhaps they would not. All he could do was wait and see.

He stretched his hands toward them in benediction and vanished into the night.