IF XENA HAD been sensitive to such things, which she was not, she might have felt a general enthusiasm that evening for her to get dressed and leave for her watch at Nebula's apartments as soon as possible. But she either didn't pick up on the unspoken request or, more likely, did not care about it, and she took her sweet time getting ready. "I'm not coming back in the morning," she said to Gabrielle. "I'm going to stay with Nebula and wait for you to join us. The ceremony's going to take place by mid-morning, so no sense me coming all the way back here and turning around again. Besides, if anyone's going to move they'll do it just beforehand."

"One can only hope," Gabrielle muttered.

"What? Honestly, Gabrielle, I think you're working too hard lately. Well, after tomorrow it'll all be over and everything can get back to normal." She picked up Eve. "Joxer, can you get the door? Look alive, for pity's sake, you haven't said a word all day. Listen, same thing I told her--after tomorrow, it'll be fine." Joxer looked as if he would speak as he opened the door, and Xena cut him off. "It'll be fine," she said firmly, and left. Joxer closed the door silently behind her, and he and Gabrielle were once again alone in the room. Once again--Joxer leaned his forehead against the door for a long minute and fought for control.

"Joxer?"

No. Don't let her know. He stood up and pulled himself together, turning around with a smile that became genuine at the sight of her. As always. She was such a wonderful sight, Gabrielle. "What's on for tonight?" he asked.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"You're lying." She came up to him and slipped her arms around his waist.

"I'm fine. Like Xena said, it'll all be over tomorrow." He smoothed her hair gently back from her forehead and suddenly was seized with a need more overpowering than anything he'd ever felt in his life. Before she could react he had seized her, claimed her mouth with his own, and she was sinking to the floor and bringing him with her.

They coupled swiftly, furiously, half-dressed there on the floor. They undressed and bathed each other in the tub and joined in the water, sliding against and around each other like otters; they withdrew to Gabrielle's chamber in a series of touches and caresses and kisses, and she stretched herself out on the bed and opened her legs wide and drew him in. He couldn't keep his hands off her, and she responded to every touch, every look, and he just couldn't stop, knowing what he knew. He entered her slowly, the way she liked, and she threw her head back and moaned luxuriously, and she was so beautiful. He took her face in his hands and lay there for a moment, in a perfect bliss that could not last, with Gabrielle engulfing him and that soft look in her eyes. "Gabrielle," he said softly, clearly so that she would understand. "Gabrielle, I love you."

"Joxer, don't..."

"I love you."

"Joxer, please. You know the rules."

"Fuck the rules."

"No, you idiot. Me." She clenched about him and arched her back, bucking her hips quickly a few times--and then she was drawn into his gaze, and her movements slowed. Without breaking the eye contact, he made love to her, not fucking, love, pacing every movement, every angle, to please her, following whatever he saw reflected in her face. He had no words. He had never had words. All he had was this. He watched her the whole time, etching the memory of her expression deep into his brain, and not until she finally closed tightly around him and came did he close his eyes, feeling the ecstasy of her quivering body about him, and the sting of the tears. She didn't see them when she gathered his head to hers and thrust her tongue deep into his mouth as he came, and maybe it was all for the best.

They fell into a loose knot of limbs and lay still for long moments. Gabrielle finally curled herself up against him, snuggling her head into his shoulder. "My hero," she murmured, and the words were like a knife in his gut. He pulled a blanket up over her shoulders and lay there for a long time, while she slept and the moon climbed steadily in the sky.

At midnight it was tomorrow. He kissed her gently and slipped out of the bed, leaving her dreaming contentedly, a smile on her face. She had a lovely smile, Gabrielle. He dressed silently and left the apartments and set out on the long dark walk to the dungeons.

This time the Guards in the downstairs room hesitated, and he had to repeat the order again. "The Queen wants to see the prisoner," he said. The Guards looked at each other, and to forestall that he snapped in his best imitation of a Xena tone, "Do you disobey the Queen?" It wasn't a very good imitation, but it had the magic word in it. The Guards stepped aside and let him through the large door. They went to Khalil's cell and unlocked it as Joxer stood there with arms folded, this in imitation of Gabrielle's best you'd-better-do-this-right-fucking-now stance, and they brought Khalil out. They started to fasten shackles about the prince's wrists, but Joxer didn't like the memories those brought back. "No," he snapped. "I'll take him from here." He took Khalil by the elbow and marched him out the door, his head held high in an approximation of the prince's arrogant gait. It was so easy, when you were important. Nobody talked back to heroes.

"Let go of me, softskin," Khalil hissed as they mounted the stairs.

"Shut up," Joxer said softly.

"What do you intend to do? Take me out and cut my throat to spare my dear sister the expense of a public spectacle? Pity. The city needs all the free entertainment it can get."

"Do you know these doors?" Joxer nodded at one of the labyrinth entrances, a few steps above on the right-hand wall.

"I grew up in this palace. I know them all. What are you doing, softskin?"

Joxer continued walking up as far as the labyrinth entrance, then stopped. "I'm letting you go."

"What?"

"I'm giving you a chance, anyway. Go into the maze and, and do whatever. I don't know anything about it so I can't help you more than that."

Khalil didn't move. "Are you insane?"

Yes, Joxer thought. Aloud he said, "You're not a murderer. You're not even an attempted murderer. I can't let you be killed for something you didn't do."

Khalil looked at him for a long moment. "I shall not be grateful for this," he said.

"I don't expect you to be."

After a moment the prince turned, stooping his tall frame easily under the short sill of the tunnel entrance, and vanished into the darkness.

There. It was done. Joxer felt an odd lightness in his chest, the way he'd felt in the harbor waiting for the shark. Nothing to do now. Nothing to do except sit and wait. And so he did, selecting a spot on the stairs a few feet above, not directly in front of any of the tunnel entrances to avoid sitting in the draft and catching cold, and waited. He was there for a few hours or days, perhaps, until he heard sounds from above. Loud noises and raised voices, as if the Guards upstairs already knew what had happened without seeing it. Well, probably they did. The downstairs Guards came in and out through another one of those tunnels, not through the front doors, and they would have found out what had happened. Joxer sat and waited. The door above opened, and footsteps came down the stairs. A single set of footsteps. Joxer looked up and recognized the man from the way he moved, even in the darkness. "Suleiman," he said. He stood up slowly, his back stiff, and wondered what he would say. "I--"

Without a word, without warning, the Guard swung the butt of his sword around towards Joxer's temple. Joxer saw it coming and barely ducked his head away in time to save his skull, but nothing else. He fell hard against the wall, crumpling to the steps, beyond confused--that wasn't a subduing blow, that kind of strike was meant to kill. Something is really wrong here, he thought as the darkness closed about him; really, really wr--