* ~ * ~ *

The moon, creamy white and almost perfectly round, rolled out from behind a thick cloud and shone down on the camp, otherwise lit only by a few sparse torches. Gabrielle glanced around warily; it would be easier to find Xena's tent in the moonlight, but she also ran a higher risk of getting caught before she made it. Her disguise had been good enough for the sentries, who had ogled her appreciatively in her tiny, form-hugging yellow dress decorated with bright multicolored beads, and had easily believed that she was a working girl plying her trade. With any luck, she wouldn't run into anyone who knew her ... or if she did, the garish makeup and red wig would successfully conceal her identity.

She suddenly realized how tired, sore and hungry she was after seven days of nearly non-stop riding. She had stayed in Salonae for three weeks, and for the first two of them she had almost persuaded herself that she wasn't going back -- until one morning when, following a nearly sleepless night, she knew for sure that nothing would keep her away from Xena. She belonged at Xena's side; that's where she was needed most, perhaps more than ever now that Xena was determined to keep her away.

After that, devising an escape plan had been a cinch.

Now, all she had to do was get to Xena.

There was a noise behind her and then a crude laugh.

"Hello, gorgeous!" a man's voice called out.

Gabrielle turned around and saw two soldiers leering at her.

"Wanna party, baby?" snickered the shorter one.

"Thanks, boys." She put on her best seductive voice. "But I'm afraid I've, uh, already got a date for the evening."

"Oh yeah? With whom?" asked the second soldier.

She had to come up with something on the spot. "Mykillos."

"Never heard of him," snorted the first man. "Can't be that important."

"So you'll be late for your date," said the other. "No big deal."

Before she could turn away, the shorter man grabbed her and tried to kiss her, his breath reeking of garlic and cheap wine. Gabrielle jammed her knee into the man's stomach and he staggered back with a gasp -- but not before he had managed to grab her fake hair so that the wig came off in his hand. He stared at it in confusion for a moment and then broke into loud guffaws, joined by his companion.

"Looks like you're gonna have to kiss me if you want your hair back," he taunted.

She looked at him uncertainly, trying to decide if she should try to retrieve the wig or just sprint for it and hope to reach Xena's tent unrecognized.

"Hey," said a familiar woman's voice, and the men straightened up, the look on their faces changing to one of deference. "What's going on?"

Gabrielle turned around and saw Berenice, the officer who had been there the evening she beat Mykillos in a dagger-throwing contest. Dammit ... it would have to be someone who knew her. Now she could only hope the woman would be in a helpful mood.

"Sorry, ma'am," one of the soldiers mumbled. "Just, uh, questioning the girl to see if she's, uh, any trouble." Berenice's eyes widened slightly in surprise. "Says she's on her way to see a customer ... what was the name again? Oh yeah, Mykillos."

Berenice gave Gabrielle a probing look and then said curtly, "Okay, on your way, fellas. Don't make me find out if you've been drinking."

Scowling, the man threw the wig back at Gabrielle, and the two of them walked away, disappearing in the forest of tents.

"What are you up to?" Berenice asked. "You're not really here to see Mykillos, are you?"

Gabrielle shook her head.

"He's dead, you know," Berenice said drily. "Roman archer got him last week."

The bard looked down, twisting the ridiculous red wig in her hands. She felt a jab of sadness, and was unaccountably contrite over the way she had humiliated the man in front of his friends.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, lifting her eyes again.

"I know he was a jerk, but the guy really did like you. Just wasn't very good at showing it, I guess." Berenice shrugged and gave a little head shake. "He said you stayed behind in Salonae."

"I did." Evidently, Berenice didn't know she was banned from the camp. So far, so good. "I just got back."

"So what are you doing dressed like this? Not enough money in the bard business?"

"It's just a disguise in case I ran into some Romans," she said quickly.

Berenice eyed her suspiciously but then seemed to relent.

"Well, if you're looking for action to write about, you've sure got good timing."

For a moment, Gabrielle's heart stopped beating. Then she whispered, "What?"

"Tomorrow morning, we attack Ariminum. No quarter." Berenice's voice was businesslike. "Xena's orders."

There was no time, right now, to feel sick.

"Berenice ... take me to Xena's tent. Please?"

"I don't know..." The woman looked doubtful. "She must be pretty busy, getting ready for the big day..."

Somehow, Gabrielle managed not to sound too desperate.

"Please, Berenice. I know she'll want to see me."

After a few torturous moments, she said, "All right, come with me."

As they walked through the sleeping camp, Berenice talked about the killing of the prisoners and the Romans' challenge, and Gabrielle tried her best to quiet her racing mind so she could think of what to say to Xena. She could already see the familiar outline of the command tent with its feathered top when a tall figure emerged into the moonlight and stopped, turning toward them.

Even before Gabrielle saw who it was, something told her this was bad.

And then, with the numbing feeling that all was lost, she found herself staring at Phaleron.

"What's this?" the priest of Ares asked.

"Phaleron," Berenice said, her tone cool but deferential. "It's not what it looks like -- this is Gabrielle, the scribe. She -- "

"I know who this is," Phaleron cut her off. "Do you know that she was under strict orders not to leave Salonae?"

"No, I don't ... I didn't," Berenice said slowly, glancing at Gabrielle with a mix of sympathy and annoyance.

Perhaps if she bolted right now and raced straight to Xena's tent, she'd make it.

Phaleron's hands clamped down on her shoulders.

"You're under arrest."

She succeeded in freeing herself, but even energy spurred by desperation wasn't enough for her to make more than a few steps before she was tackled and knocked to the ground.

"Berenice," she called out as Phaleron bound her hands with her own belt, "please tell Xena I'm here."

"If you value your rank, Berenice, you'll do no such thing," Phaleron said. "Xena has enough to think about right now without being bothered by her nonsense."

He hoisted Gabrielle up to her feet, just in time for her to see Berenice shrug almost regretfully and walk away.

* ~ * ~ *

Xena settled into her bedroll, pulling the fur covers up to her chin.

The preparations for the battle had kept her busy for the past few hours; but now, there was nothing left to do but wait for the morning. Now, it was just her, alone with the past and the future.

Not quite alone: with a tiny shiver, she sensed the presence of the God of War. She lay silently and waited, as she had may times in these past weeks, knowing by now that he wasn't going to appear. For the first time, she broke down and said quietly, "Ares."

He was so close that she could feel his warmth, so close that she thought she could touch him if she held out her hand. And then he wasn't there anymore.

She sighed and turned over on her side, closing her eyes.

The rage that had gripped her when she saw the bodies of the prisoners, some stabbed and others beheaded, had abated by now. But she still felt a grim pleasure at the thought that at this very moment, the Romans behind those city walls were terrified of her, that her mere name made them tremble.

It was too familiar, that feeling. If she held any real beliefs in her days as the Destroyer of Nations, foremost among them was the conviction that fear was the one human emotion that could be trusted. Love, admiration, respect -- all these could be faked. When they feared you, you knew it was for real.

Well, they feared her now ... even Gabrielle, probably. Maybe even Ares. Big bad God of War, afraid of a girl. A bitter smirk twisted her lips.

Obviously, she wasn't going to sleep. Xena threw the covers aside, got up and lit an oil lamp by her bedside. The pale, yellowish ghost of her own face stared at her from the side of a silver pitcher.

She could take Ariminum tomorrow and then go on to Rome. She had little doubt that she'd be victorious. And then the war would be over, and she would return to Gabrielle ... or would she?

Xena thought back to the time she fought the Horde. Back then, Gabrielle had been horrified by her willingness to do what she thought was necessary to win -- and in the end, the bard's stubborn belief in the value of compassion had helped her, Xena, hold on to her own humanity and find a better way than indiscriminate killing. But there wasn't always a better way. If Gabrielle were with her now, would she do all she could to stop the massacre -- or fight right alongside her? She wasn't sure of the answer, and that frightened her.

This wasn't just about facing Gabrielle, or facing Eve. The war would be over, and she would return -- to what?

She poured herself some water, put the pitcher down and drank slowly.

Kill them all.

It wasn't the same, really. Not like when she and her army laid waste to cities and villages in her native Greece. Not like the things for which she had spent all those years trying to atone. This time, she was fighting Rome.

Just as she was fighting Rome back in Britannia ... when her obsession with revenge against Caesar had caused Gabrielle to shed blood for the first time.

This time, she had tried to protect Gabrielle from following a path that threatened to destroy her soul. And now, she was about to destroy her own soul ... and Gabrielle's, more likely than not.

She wondered, not for the first time, if Ares had drawn her into this. Then, she knew that it didn't matter. Ever since she had taken over Alcibiades' army, she had told herself that she had no choice. But there was always a choice.

The truth was that some part of her, the dark part that would always be there, had wanted to do this, had reveled in the power and the conquest ... and she had let it happen.

Oh, she had done an excellent job of telling herself that she was fighting for the Greater Good, that this was different from what she had done as a leader of armies in the old days.

It was different all right. But after tomorrow, there would be no denying that, in too many ways that mattered, it was the same.

* ~ * ~ *

The pallet on the floor of the tent was so thin and lumpy that finding a comfortable position -- or even one that wasn't wretchedly uncomfortable -- turned out to be a lost cause. The manacles chafing at Gabrielle's wrists didn't help.

She felt like walking around, but the chain that fastened her manacles to the pole in the middle of the tent wasn't quite long enough to even let her stand. She sat up, drawing her knees up to her chest, huddled as if she were cold.

The guard who had brought her bread and water (at least she no longer had a gnawing emptiness in her stomach adding to her misery) had eyed her as if she were some unusual, amusing but not particularly appealing small animal. Probably wondering, she thought, why some bedraggled whore was being held in a tent reserved for detainees from Xena's own ranks. She had to look awful, that ridiculous dress torn while she struggled with Phaleron, her hair matted, her face dirty and streaked with tears.

Among the thoughts swirling in Gabrielle's mind, a vivid memory floated to the surface: how, shortly after she and Xena first met, she tagged along to the tomb of Xena's brother; how Xena talked to the dead Lyceus and said softly, "It's hard to be alone"; and how the eager, clumsy, long-haired, wide-eyed kid she was then -- had that really been her? -- spoke up: "You're not alone."

And now, Xena was alone again ... or, worse yet, with him. And she, Gabrielle, was as alone as anyone could be.

Maybe one really could find comfort in talking to the dead.

* ~ * ~ *

Fully dressed now, Xena lifted the flap of her tent and looked outside. The two guards at the entrance jerked to attention, somewhat shocked to see her up.

"Peleas," she said to one of them, "go get all the regiment commanders. I need to see them in my tent."

The mute question in the man's eyes was, Right now? Aloud, he said, "Yes, my lady."

Xena watched him as he walked away, and then went back and sat down in her chair. She no longer felt restless. Gabrielle had told her she could trust her to do the right thing, and she would do it.

* ~ * ~ *

"Eli? I'm not sure where you are ... I'm not sure you can hear me... but I could really use some of your wisdom right now."

Gabrielle sighed and rubbed her now-dry eyes. There were distant voices outside, and the cold moonlight poured in through a small window cut in the side of the tent.

"I wonder if you know what Xena's about to do. I mean, you know she's not that kind of person anymore, right?" The kind who'd take a town and slaughter everyone in it ... "She spent years becoming someone different ... making up for the bad things she did ... and now she's about to lose it all." Her voice dropped to a mere breath. "How could that happen, Eli? How did it happen?"

She tried to evoke the image of Eli in her mind, his eyes gentle and smiling at her, but all that came to her was his face in the agony of death.

"Maybe it was all my fault," she said tonelessly. "You taught me the way of love and peace, and I walked away from it." She had turned to violence because she didn't care about anything except helping Xena -- and then, before she knew it, she was living a warrior's life, fighting and killing left and right... "What could I do? I had to look out for Xena ... for Eve ... for your followers... for the Amazons... I got to be a little too good at fighting. And when you're good at fighting, people expect a lot from you."

She paused, not sure if she was waiting for an answer.

"I guess I made a mess of things," she said. "I thought I was doing what was best. I gave up the way of peace, but I wasn't cut out to be a warrior either. Xena could see that ... that's why she wanted to protect me, even if it meant losing her own way ..."

Gabrielle sat still for a moment, listening to the silence. She felt the tears coming on again.

"Eli ... if you can hear me, please help her," she whispered hoarsely. "You wouldn't abandon her just to punish me for leaving your path, would you? Please help her."

She buried her face in her knees and wept quietly in defeat.

And then, a familiar voice that was definitely not Eli's said, "Very touching speech. You ought to get it published."

* ~ * ~ *

As the flap of the tent went up, Xena turned her head sharply and saw Phaleron.

"You called the commanders to a meeting," he said, without bothering to greet her. "Why?"

"You'll find out soon enough, when they get here."

"They're not coming yet. I told Peleas to hold off on summoning them until he hears from me."

She rose abruptly from her seat.

"You countermanded my order?"

"I merely delayed its execution." He bowed with a deference that came across as fake and slightly mocking. "I wanted to know your reasons first. After all, I am your second in command."

"Well, that's just it, Phaleron," she said, smiling wryly; soon, he wouldn't be her problem anymore. "You're second. Don't forget it."

If her words stung, his face didn't show it.

"I am also the priest of your patron god." He paused. "Why would you wake the commanders in the middle of the night before a battle? Surely you can tell me that much. Is there a change of plans?"

"There isn't going to be a battle."

Phaleron raised his thin eyebrows.

"You're postponing it?"

"I'm calling it off."

"You mean, we're bypassing Ariminum and moving on to Rome?"

Xena wondered if his puzzled look was entirely sincere.

"We're not moving on to Rome. We're pulling back."

"You can't do that."

She chuckled. "Watch me."

"Let me tell you something, Xena." He came up close to her, so close he was almost in her face. "You aren't just fighting this war for yourself, you're fighting it for Ares."

"Let me tell you something." She gave him a scornful look. "I always have my own reasons when I fight. Or when I don't fight."

She stepped toward the exit, but the priest of Ares blocked her way, his chilly composure momentarily giving way to undisguised fury.

"Ares -- "

"Trust me, Phaleron. If it's between Ares and me, I will deal with it my way," she said in a deliberately insinuating voice. "Right now, I'm calling my commanders. We have nothing else to talk about."

"You're right," Phaleron said, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword. "There's been enough talk."

She glanced down and shook her head.

"So you're just another man with a death wish."

"I'm a man who knows something about duty," he said. "If you want to leave this tent, you'll have to go through me."

* ~ * ~ *

Her vision blurry from the tears, Gabrielle lifted her head and found herself staring at a pair of black leather boots.

"I wasn't talking to you," she said venomously.

"Well, you weren't getting much of a response, were you." She could picture Ares smirking as he said it, though she didn't have the stomach to look up. "Of course, hanging around Xena, you must be used to one-sided conversations."

"You heartless bastard."

He snorted. "If you want to use lines like that, ask her to coach you."

Gabrielle spat on his boot.

"If I wasn't chained, I'd spit in your face," she said.

"You're too short for that gesture. Besides, it's so cheaply theatrical."

"What do you want, Ares?" she snapped. "Here to gloat? Well, gloat away. You won."

He was silent for a few moments, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer. "I won what?"

She chuckled bitterly. "You had me fooled, Ares. I admit it. I actually believed you didn't want to turn her any more. I actually believed -- " Her voice broke off.

She had actually believed that he loved Xena. Maybe he had once, when he gave up his immortality for her, and when he was mortal. But now, he was the God of War and Xena was the best warrior he could have fighting for his glory. What could one expect?

"What if you could see her right now, Gabrielle?" he asked. "What would you do?"

"I'd stop her."

"And if you couldn't? Then what?" He raised his voice to a falsetto. "Oh well, Xena's path is my path, I guess I'll just go and help her slaughter the whole town..."

"I'd stop her," she repeated.

A blue light crackled around Gabrielle's chains, stinging her skin slightly, and then the manacles snapped and fell off her hands. She jerked her head up with a gasp. Ares' face was half-hidden in the shadows, but even so, she could see that the look in his eyes was one of sadness and loss.

"Get up," he said. "I'll take you to her."

She blinked in bewilderment.

"Why?"

Ares watched her silently, not moving at all, except for a barely visible twitch of the muscles in his neck. And then, understanding momentarily knocked the breath out of her.

"You -- you want me to stop her."

He looked away and said, "Come on."

"Why don't you tell her to call it off?" she asked, scrambling to her feet.

"Hey." He held up his palms in a "hands off" gesture. "That's supposed to be your job, Gabrielle -- saving her from her dark side."

Gabrielle shook her head, trying not to let herself be overcome by emotion. She came closer, tilting her head sideways so that she could see his face, and put her hand on his.

"Ares... Thank you."

Ares glanced at her with an unhappy, crooked half-grin.

"What, I'm not a heartless bastard anymore?"

"Oh, you are." She managed to smile a little. "But I think you really care about her."

* ~ * ~ *

Xena looked down at Phaleron, the tip of her sword resting at his chest. His breathing was hard and ragged, whether from exertion or rage, or both.

"The killing stops here," she said quietly. "Enough."

He swallowed, his eyes drifting up to her face.

"Drop it."

After a few moments, he let go of his sword and she kicked it away into a corner. She moved her weapon, pointing to the dagger at his belt.

"I'll take that for you."

With a small nod, he slowly unhooked the dagger and held it out to Xena, handle first; just as she was about to take it, he threw it away with a forceful gesture. She followed the dagger with her eyes and took a small step back.

Scorching pain tore through her side. Her legs swayed and she couldn't breathe; she managed to hold on to her sword as her other hand went to the deep jagged cut just below her armor, and was instantly doused in hot, thick blood. It took her a second to realize that Phaleron had pulled out another dagger he had hidden somewhere on him and stabbed her with his left hand. As if through a watery haze, she watched him get up. She wanted to raise her sword but it was a dead weight in her hand, and her limbs were very cold. A vague thought flashed in her mind: I' m getting too old for this.

The walls of the tent began to sway, then lurch violently and spin. She no longer saw Phaleron -- or anything else except her boots, now splattered with red, and the dark stain spreading on the rug around her feet.

What strength had been left in her legs was gone, and she sank down. Then, it seemed to her that she felt two strong arms wrap around her and a warm breath touch her cheek, and a choked voice said, "No, Xena ... no..."

"Ares?" she whispered.

"I'm here. I'm here. You'll be okay."

As he cradled her in his arms, Xena heard, as if from far away, a harsh cry of pain and surprise; it was followed by a crash, and the cry became a rattle that grew fainter until it trailed off.

"What -- " She struggled to open her eyes.

"Shh," Ares murmured, stroking her face. She looked up at him; his lips were trembling, his eyes tender and terrified. Her armor vanished, though it gave her little relief, and she felt him pull up her tunic to look at her wound.

Another face came into her line of sight, and she gasped, "Gabri-" only to cough and convulse with pain.

"Xena!" She felt a gentle squeeze on her hand.

"Did -- did Ares bring you --?"

After a brief pause, she said, "Yes."

"It's so good to see you... Even if -- " Xena's eyes slid over the smudged, heavy makeup on Gabrielle's face and the top of her dirty, ripped dress -- "you look like you -- ran away from a traveling circus." She tried to laugh, but it hurt even worse this time. Then she remembered something. "Phaleron -- "

Even under that ghastly makeup, she could see the sudden hardness in Gabrielle's face.

"Don't worry about him," Gabrielle said.

The blackness was creeping up on her, pulling her under, lulling her with a promise of rest. Yet she made an effort to fight it for another moment, to speak again, even though she could barely move her tongue.

"The army -- I have to turn it back -- "

Then, feeling Ares' arm around her shoulders and Gabrielle's hands holding hers, she let the blackness take her.

* ~ * ~ *

"You can heal her ... can't you?"

Ares shook his head. "No."

Gabrielle shot him a disgusted look, the bitterness coming back. "Because you'd lose your godhood."

"Because I can't, okay? I don't have the power anymore."

"Sorry." She didn't have time to feel guilty right now. "We need to take care of her wound, then."

Luckily, it didn't take her long to find the small box where Xena kept her medicinal ointments and mixtures. By the time she brought them over, Ares had a basin of heated water ready, as well as several square bandages and a broad strip of white linen. The steam rose from the water, yellowish in dim light, making the heavy smell of blood almost overpowering. Gabrielle cleansed the wound and applied an ointment that would reduce the pain and speed up the healing, then pressed the thick bandages to the wound, forcefully and quickly, before the bleeding started again. Just as she was about to ask Ares to help, he lifted up Xena's limp body -- she stirred and moaned slightly but didn't regain consciousness -- and wrapped the linen strip tightly around her waist, over the bandages. He was handling this with a competence that surprised Gabrielle; obviously, there were many things she didn't know about him after all.

As they finished the bandaging, Ares said, without looking up, "So you took out Phaleron. Good for you."

The War God's praise made her uneasy. Gabrielle thought back to the moment when the world solidified around her again and her feet touched the floor of the tent -- when she saw the blood streaming from Xena's side and the dagger glistening red in Phaleron's hand. What did it say about her that her first impulse had been not to rush toward her wounded friend but to pick up the sword that had dropped from Xena's hand, to charge Phaleron and plunge the sword into his belly? What did it mean that she had been glad to see the shock and helpless rage in his dimming eyes?

"I'm taking her away," Ares said. "There's a place where she can stay until she's well."

"And the army?"

"The army..." he repeated, looking at her as if he had just remembered that there was an army out there.

"It has to be turned back ... it's what she wanted to do."

Only now, Gabrielle fully realized what this meant. Xena had pulled back from the edge, all by herself. The joy she felt at this thought momentarily overshadowed her anxiety about Xena, but it had an undertaste of guilt for having so little faith in her friend.

She glanced at Ares and saw the uncertainty in his face.

"Can't you just tell them to go back?"

"Look -- I don't handle matters like that personally, don't you get it?" he snapped. "I'm not the commander of this army. I dealt with Xena, and with Alcibiades before that ... and with that piece of garbage over there." He nodded toward Phaleron's body. "The rest -- most of them have never even seen me."

"Ares ... " She touched his hand, covered, like her own, in Xena's blood. "She almost got herself killed because she wanted to turn the army back."

He bit his lip and lowered his eyelids. Gabrielle wondered if calling off a war voluntarily was almost an unnatural act for him, like refusing to inhale.

"All right," he said.

Before the words were out of his mouth, Gabrielle knew with perfect clarity that this wasn't the way -- and knew exactly what she had to do.

"Let me do it, Ares."

"Let you do what?"

"Lead the army back to Greece."

He smirked at her bitterly. "I never knew you had a sense of humor."

"I don't ... I mean, I'm not joking." She was feverishly racking her brain for a way to explain it. "Ares, all this time I've been telling myself that I had to learn to be a warrior so that I could fight for peace. This is my chance -- don't you see? I've fought in your army. Those officers have seen me in battle, I've earned their respect. If you give me the command, they'll follow me. I can stop the war. For both of us ... for Xena and for me."

She thought he would laugh at her, as always -- but the look in his eyes was serious and almost sympathetic.

Finally, he said, "Well, if you're going to lead an army, we'd better do something about your clothes."

* ~ * ~ *

Turning the army around proved easier than she thought.

When Xena's top officers arrived at the command tent, after guards had removed Phaleron's body and Ares had taken the still-unconscious Xena away, they were understandably shocked by the news. However, enough of them knew about Gabrielle's exploits at Salonae -- having either seen her in action like Callippus and Argyron, or heard about it from others -- for her to get a respectful hearing. When she calmly offered to fight any challenger who thought she shouldn't take the command post, there didn't seem to be any takers.

"You may be a great fighter, but how do we know that Ares is behind you?" one of the men standing around the table said doubtfully.

The bard was stumped for a moment. One wasn't supposed to ask Ares for help -- she remembered as much from the adventure with Mavican. She suspected that he would probably bend the rules in this case, but then she'd always feel like she had cheated.

The best thing she could come up with was to narrow her eyes at the man and say, "Don't make me ask him to prove it."

Somebody gasped; there was a flash, and Gabrielle thought for a moment that Ares had appeared in the tent. Instead, she saw a silvery-blue fireball that whirled and flattened and became a circle, flying straight at her, lightning-fast. Her hand shot out on pure instinct and snatched the chakram out from the air.

There was a stunned silence, followed by an appreciative murmur. Unable to suppress a tiny smile of triumph, Gabrielle gave the chakram a spin in her hand and then hooked it to her belt, as if she did this every day.

None of them would question her leadership now.

Even so, the officers were visibly baffled and irked by Gabrielle's announcement that she was calling off the attack and the war itself and taking the army back to Greece. Her argument that in battling the Romans they were going to become as bad as the enemy didn't make much of an impression. They would obey her orders, of course; but the prospect of leading, even for a brief time, an army that only grudgingly followed her command was not very appealing. So she had to draw on her gift for words.

"Listen to me," she said, leaning forward, resting her hands on the table. "The campaign you -- we have fought has already weakened the Empire. Illyria is no longer under Roman rule, and they've lost territory in Gaul. Today, Greece is safer from Roman incursions than it has been in a century. What do you think we're going to accomplish if we keep on driving into Italy and toward Rome itself, sacking and burning cities, slaughtering men, women and children in our path? The Romans are no longer defending their conquests now, they are defending their homeland. They're determined and desperate. Are you ready to be mired in a war without end, a war that will keep you away from your homes and families for months and maybe years to come?"

"What about our comrades?" Callippus said. "The prisoners Gallo took? The bastards butchered them in cold blood."

"Why do you think they did that?"

"To cut off any chance to negotiate a surrender of Ariminum," said Argyron. "And as payback for the death of Bolanus."

"So they wanted to leave us no choice but to slaughter the whole city," Gabrielle said. "And you would give them what they wanted." She paused to let the words sink in. "If there is one thing I learned from Xena, it's that there are always choices. Sometimes, all of them are bad -- but some are worse than others."

"So our men will go unavenged," an officer she didn't know said grimly.

"The Romans wanted revenge for Bolanus. You want revenge for our men. Where does it end?"

"This isn't a soldier's talk," said Callippus. "What kind of warrior are you?"

She thought she detected more curiosity than reproach in his voice.

"One who knows when to fight, and when not to fight."

There was something dimly familiar about these words, but she brushed that feeling aside; this was no time for trips down memory lane.

Callippus looked at her thoughtfully and finally nodded. Gabrielle knew that the officers were not convinced by her reasoning , but at least they could respect it.

"In the morning," she said, "we lift the siege and start the march back to Greece."

* ~ * ~ *

When they were all gone, Gabrielle felt as if she could finally let out her breath. Her knees a bit wobbly, she walked over to pour herself some wine. Just as she started sipping it, she saw a flare of blue out of the corner of her eye. She whirled around.

"How is she?"

"Asleep," Ares said. He stood by the entrance, arms folded on his chest, most of him hidden in the shadows -- but she could see his face, bathed in the wavering light of an oil lamp which shimmered softly in the metal studs on his vest. For a moment, the look she saw in his eyes was one of such forlorn, quiet resignation that Gabrielle was frightened.

"Where did you take her?" she asked quickly.

"To a temple in Thrace. The priests will take care of her; they've got a good physician coming in."

"Take me to her ... Please?"

Ares shook his head. "I told you, she's sleeping." Noticing the alarm in her eyes, he added, "I'll take you there tomorrow. You should get some sleep too if you're going to lead an army in the morning." He paused and added, "She'll be all right."

She touched the chakram at her belt.

"Do you want this back?"

"You can keep it for now. I'm sure she won't mind you wearing it until she's well."

"You trusted me to catch it," she said, with a note of wonderment in her voice.

"I figured if you're half as good as you think you are, you could do it."

There was no use denying it: the thought that the God of War had some regard for her martial skills was flattering. And then, in a dizzying flash, Gabrielle knew what it was that stirred in her memory before, when she said she knew when to fight and when not to fight.

That time when the hapless Mavican wanted to prove herself to Ares by killing Xena, and Ares sent them all through a vortex to fight it out in some desolate little world he had created -- and tried to set it up so that she, Gabrielle, would be the one to kill Mavican... He appeared to her in the cave where she was hiding out and talked to her in that smooth, treacherously gentle voice about his goal of peace through power -- and told her that he wanted her, not Xena, as his chosen warrior. What I need is someone strong enough to lead people ... someone who's learned how to fight -- but has the discretion not to...

Gabrielle gulped down the rest of the wine so quickly that she almost choked. The thought that he understood her, that he had known something about her before she knew it herself, was deeply unnerving.

Blue light flared around him and she called out hastily, "Ares, wait."

"What now?"

"I want to ask you something..." She fidgeted, shifting her feet. "Ares -- back when you tried to recruit me into your service ... did you actually want me as your Warrior Queen, or were you just messing with my head and using me to get to Xena?"

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, and was silent for a moment. Then he asked, "Which answer are you more afraid to hear?"

"I want to hear the truth, Ares."

"And you think you're going to get that out of me?"

"Maybe just this once," she said.

He looked at her thoughtfully.

"I knew Xena wasn't coming back. I had to find my own way of dealing with it."

"And that's supposed to answer my question?"

"What do you want to know, Gabrielle? Did I really think you had potential? Yes, I did. And I was right. As usual."

Gabrielle smiled a little. "I can live with that."

"Just don't let it go to your head," he said and gave her a rather affectionate nod, almost smiling back, before he disappeared.

* ~ * ~ *

For the next several days, Xena drifted in and out of consciousness -- sleeping for many hours, with the help of the medic's potions, and mostly tossing about in delirium when she woke up. A few times, Ares took Gabrielle to see her in a room that seemed oddly warm in spite of its black-and-crimson hues and the swords and battle-axes that served as the decorations.  She clutched the bard's hand convulsively, her eyes open but dim and unseeing, and rambled about calling off the attack on the city, about the prisoners who had been killed by the Romans, about going back for Gabrielle. A couple of times, she muttered, "I'm sorry, Gabrielle..." and Gabrielle almost couldn't breathe, overwhelmed by tenderness and guilt.

The Amazon bard was doing her best to focus on the task of bringing home an army nearly forty thousand strong. Perhaps it was a good thing, she told herself sometimes, that she couldn't spend day and night at Xena's bedside worrying herself sick. More often, she wished she could.

And then, one evening when she was trying to relax in her tent, Ares made an appearance, and her heart almost leaped out of her chest when he said, "She's awake."

When the temple attendant ushered Gabrielle into the room, Xena was reclining on a heap of pillows. She looked up and said, "Gabrielle...", smiling hopefully and a little uncertainly -- and everything that had come between them in these past months melted away in that smile.

She tried to remember not to hug Xena too tightly, not when she was still recovering from her wound. She also tried not to cry, but that resolution crumbled the moment Xena stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head.

When both of them were calmer, Xena said, "Leonatus told me you're leading the army back to Greece."

"Yes, I -- who's Leonatus?"

"The priest of this temple."

"I thought Ares would have told you himself."

Xena looked away uncomfortably. After a moment, she said, "I haven't seen him, not since -- " Her voice trailed off, and Gabrielle knew that it was best not to pursue this.

"What exactly happened that night?" Xena asked. "I've had such weird dreams -- I'm not sure what was real and what wasn't. I seem to recall seeing you in some freaky outfit and with makeup smeared all over your face... Did -- did he bring you over from Salonae?"

"Uh, not quite."

As briefly as she could, Gabrielle told the whole story -- her escape from Salonae (to her relief, Xena nodded with a slightly amused, affectionate look), her arrest by Phaleron, and the surprise visit from Ares.

"So he wanted to you to stop me," Xena said softly, her eyes half-veiled.

"Isn't that something? When he showed up, I thought he was there to gloat." Gabrielle gave a nervous laugh. "I actually spat on his boot."

"I'm sure it hurt his feelings terribly."

Gabrielle struggled to get over the catch in her throat. "Xena ... I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Xena lifted an eyebrow. "Underestimating Ares? That's an easy mistake."

She put her hand on top of Xena's and forced herself to look straight at her.

"No... underestimating you." Xena's eyes widened, and for an instant she looked almost fragile. "I told you I could trust you to do the right thing... and then I didn't trust you at all."

"Don't be sorry. I was one step away from -- justifying your worst fears."

"Xena... I don't think you were ever going to make that step."

Xena was visibly close to tears as she held Gabrielle's hands. Finally she said, almost in a whisper, "Thank you."

They embraced again, and Gabrielle muttered into Xena's hair, "I love you."

"I love you too."

After they pulled apart, she asked, "You're not mad that I didn't stay in Salonae?"

"I never should have made you stay."

"We-ell..." The bard scrunched up her face. "It did feel a bit like you had gone off and left me stabled until you could come get me."

"Hah. I would have brought you a nice treat."

"Yeah, and maybe then you could have scratched behind my ears..."

"And watered you and brushed you down..."

They laughed together. Then, Xena said, suddenly serious, "So tell me about the army."

Gabrielle told her -- how she ended up taking charge of the army, and why. She expected Xena to have some misgivings, but the Warrior Princess gave her a warm look and said, "I'm proud of you, Gabrielle."

"Not as proud as I am of you."

Neither of them quite knew what to say after that -- until Gabrielle remembered something.

"Damn ... I should have brought you the chakram."

"Why? So I'd have a toy to play with in my sickroom? No, you keep it until you get the army home. You deserve it."

They talked about the army for a while, and Xena asked about various officers -- until she stopped in mid-sentence, a shadow crossing her face.

"What is it?"

"Phaleron," Xena said slowly. "You killed him, didn't you."

"Yes, I did."

"You killed for me -- again."

"Xena ..." She bit her lip. "I'll deal with it my own way. Right now, all I know is that I did what I had to do. He tried to kill you."

Xena didn't look entirely reassured, but neither of the women wanted to talk about it any more, and they went back to their conversation. In a short while, there was a knock on the door and the attendant, dressed in austere black with a belt and necklace of silver, came in carrying a goblet.

"It's time for your potion," she said.

Xena made a face and drank up. After the woman left they talked some more, until Gabrielle noticed that Xena was getting drowsy.

"You need to sleep."

"Just a nap." Xena yawned and lay back. "A little one..."

Almost before she had finished saying it, she was out. Careful not to wake her, Gabrielle pulled the wine-colored blanket up to Xena's chin and adjusted the pillows, and touched her still-feverish forehead. She was starting to nod off herself -- it had been a long day -- when the telltale blue flare jolted her awake.

"Are you taking me back?" she asked, rubbing her eyes.

"I'm taking you both back."

Something about Ares' voice made her look up. His face was perfectly still and expressionless.

"Are you sure she's well enough?"

"I'm sure you'll see to it that she is ... comfortable."

He came up to the bed and reached down, touching a strand of Xena's hair with his fingertips. Then he said, "Tell her -- " His voice faltered, and Gabrielle felt a twinge of apprehension.

"Tell her I said good-bye."

It was a few seconds before she took in what he meant, and gasped in shock.

"What?" she breathed. "You -- "

"I won't be back," he said quietly, his face turned away.

"Why?"

"She'll know."

Gabrielle's mind was such a whirl of disjointed thoughts and careening emotions that she couldn't figure out if she felt relieved or saddened.

"But, but -- " she sputtered.

Ares raised a hand, silencing her.

"You won, Gabrielle," he said with a touch of bitter mockery and then continued, his voice gentle again, "She belongs with you. Take good care of her."

He turned to her, and for one insane moment, seeing his face with the mask off and his eyes filled with unguarded anguish made her wonder if he was mortal again. Before she could say anything else, he laid a hand on her shoulder, and as the world dissolved around her in the now-familiar but still-dizzying vortex, she heard him say, "Good-bye, Gabrielle."

Finally alone with Xena, Ares sat down next to her. The sleeping potion was strong enough to ensure that she didn't wake up right now; he couldn't go through with this if she did. It was bad enough with her asleep.

A warm droplet was sliding down his cheek. He remembered the first time he had felt this curious sensation -- the day he had given up his godhood for his Warrior Princess, when he stood in a field by the sea and watched her walk toward the beach, toward Gabrielle and Eve, away from him.

It was strange to know he still had tears in him, now that he was the God of War once again. Maybe mortality really had messed him up for good.

He stroked her face.

"You know this is good-bye."

He focused his mind, making sure that she would hear him, wherever she was now -- but without actually entering her dream, as he had done on another occasion long ago. Even in a world of illusion, he couldn't bear to hear whatever she'd have to say to him.

"Remember how you told me I was bad for you? Well, you were right," he said. "I bring out a side of you that's ... too much like me. So, you see, the woman I love -- she can't exist if we're together. It's like one of those little jokes we loved to play on mortals when all the Olympians were still around. Except that this time, the joke's on me."

She stirred in her sleep and frowned, and he knew she had heard him.

"It's all right," he said. "We had some good times too, didn't we?"

He bent down, feeling her warm breath on his face, and lightly touched her lips with his.

"I love you, Xena."

Then he sat up straight, placed his hands on her shoulders, and sent her to Gabrielle's tent.

He opened up a portal and watched, ignoring the pain in his chest, as the blonde fussed over Xena, pulling the covers over her and arranging the pillows.

She would be all right now.

* ~ * ~ *

When Xena opened her eyes, she thought at first that her mind was playing tricks on her again -- she wasn't at the temple any more but in what looked like her command tent. The flap over the entrance was open, letting the sunlight pour in. When she tried to move, pain sliced through the flesh in her side, and she knew that at least she hadn't dreamed that part.

"Hey." Gabrielle came up and knelt by her side. Xena's eyes went to the chakram at her friend's belt. So it definitely hadn't been a dream ... unless she was still dreaming.

"Wh- what happened?" She lifted her hand, shielding her eyes. "What am I doing back here?"

"Ares brought you back." Gabrielle paused and added, "He sent over your things too." She nodded toward the leathers, boots and armor, piled neatly in a corner of the tent. The look in her face was oddly hesitant, as if she needed to say something else but couldn't quite get herself to say it.

That was when Xena remembered her actual dream: she was walking along a deserted beach at dusk, alone, and then Ares appeared before her, looking sad and aloof, and told her it was good-bye -- he was bad for her, just as she had once said, and if they were together he would always end up bringing out her darkness and destroying the woman he loved. She tried to tell him that he was wrong, but he seemed not to hear her, as if he were really somewhere else, even when she grabbed him by his vest and shook him. As she stared at him in helpless bewilderment, he bent down and his lips touched hers, and then he was gone -- just dissolved into the air, without even the usual flare of light.

She flinched slightly and turned to Gabrielle.

"Did he say anything?"

"He ..." Gabrielle lowered her eyes, twisting a corner of the bedcover in her fingers. "He said ... to tell you good-bye. He said you'd know why."

"I see," Xena said quietly.

The bard glanced at her.

"So ... it's over?"

"I doubt it."

"You think he won't stay away from you?"

Xena grinned a little. "Who says I'll stay away from him?"

Gabrielle said nothing, only nodded; but she looked worried, and Xena asked, "You think he's bad for me?"

"I don't know, Xena." Gabrielle shook her head. "I don't think I'll ever get him, or this -- thing between you. But he called off a war for you -- I guess that's really something. And anyway..."

"What?"

There was a twinkle in Gabrielle's eyes. "I know I can trust you do the right thing."

"You'd better put that down in writing," Xena said with a chuckle.

* ~ * ~ *

The main marketplace in Pella, the capital city of Macedonia, was bustling with people -- shoppers preparing for a special dinner to celebrate a warrior's return, soldiers buying gifts for family members or sweethearts, and just men and women out to enjoy the weather, look at the merchandise, or buy a snack at one of the vendors' stalls.

"I feel ridiculous in this dress." Xena smoothed down her skirt and adjusted the head scarf pinned to the jeweled comb in her hair. "Hot pink? What were you thinking?"

"This isn't hot pink," Gabrielle said, sipping warm apple cider from a clay pot. "It's red."

"It looks like that rag I got in Gangra when I was out of my mind."

"You weren't out of your mind. You just lost your dark side."

"And my fashion sense."

"I think it looks good on you. Anyway, you said you wanted to keep a low profile."

"Not this low."

"Xena, you'd feel ridiculous in any dress."

"This one's nice." Xena gestured toward Gabrielle's flowing turquoise gown.

"Only because you're not the one wearing it." Gabrielle put down the now-empty clay pot on the vendor's counter. "Come on, let's get moving."

After more than a month on the march, the army once led by Xena had returned to Macedonia -- without about a third of its soldiers, who had gone home to other regions in Greece. It was a strange homecoming, neither in defeat nor in victory; the king who had first led these troops on their campaign of conquest was dead, not in battle with the enemy but at the hands of their next commander, and the kingdom that welcomed them back was now ruled by his widow. There has been no festivities in the capital, no special events, nothing except for a modest farewell banquet the officers of the army had held for Xena and Gabrielle. Both women felt that it was best not to be recognized too widely for the few days they were staying in Pella; it wouldn't be dangerous so much as awkward.

"Xena," Gabrielle said, raising her voice over the din of the crowd. Turning to her companion, Xena saw that she was struggling with something.

"What is it?"

"I -- I have to take a trip to Thessalonika."

"What's in Thessalonika?"

Gabrielle stared down, biting her lip, and then raised her eyes again.

"Phaleron's sister, Chrysilla."

The Warrior Princess stopped in her tracks, ignoring the annoyance of the people pushing past her.

"You want to see Phaleron's sister? Gabrielle..."

"He was writing her a letter just before he died -- one of the guards found it in his tent."

"Then you should have sent someone to deliver it."

"I want to do it myself. To tell her what happened -- to explain..."

"Why?"

Gabrielle sighed. "Because I need to know that when I kill -- when I have to kill someone -- I don't have to forget that this person was ... human."

"Human?" Xena snorted. "I wouldn't be so sure about Phaleron."

"Xena," Gabrielle said softly, putting her hand on Xena's arm. "I need to do this if I'm going to make peace with -- who I am now."

Xena met the bard's earnest, almost pleading gaze, and finally nodded.

"Want me to come along?"

"No. I think I should handle this one on my own."

Xena reached out and squeezed her shoulder, and they walked on.

"I'll go tomorrow morning, then," Gabrielle said. "I should be back in about six days."

Xena wondered if, in those six days, she would have a chance to see Ares. She had tried calling him several times during the march, and once in Pella, but to no avail.

"Ladies!" said a pleasant if slightly unctuous voice. "The perfect gift for your sweetheart! Over here!"

She turned around. A man who seemed to be in his late twenties, with short, curly ash blond hair, fine-featured but a bit on the paunchy side, was standing over a display of rather peculiar merchandise spread out on a rug on the ground: black-eyed toy animals made from velvet of different colors, sitting upright, just tall enough to reach Gabrielle's knee. They bore a passable resemblance to bears, with round faces that somehow managed to look sweetly bemused. As if the critters weren't already odd enough, each had a red silk heart stitched to its chest.

"A huge hit in Athens, Corinth and Sparta!" the young man exclaimed, smiling brightly. "And now, on sale for the first time in Macedonia! The best romantic gift you can give anyone! And for two such lovely ladies, only five dinars apiece."

"How much is it for everyone else?" Xena asked, lifting an eyebrow. The vendor blinked, squirmed a bit and finally mumbled, "Uh -- seven."

Xena smirked. "Anyway, what's so romantic about a bear?"

"Why, just think about it." Given an opportunity to discuss the merits of his merchandise, the young man beamed again. "A ferocious beast of the woods, turned all lovable and soft and cuddly. It's a beautiful idea."

"A bear with a heart," Xena said. "It sounds like something Salmoneus would come up with."

"You know Dad?" the vendor asked incredulously.

The two women exchanged a stunned glance.

"Dad? You're Salmoneus' son?"

"Yes, indeed. He came up with the design a couple of years ago. All it takes is the fabric -- he buys up leftovers from tailors for a nominal fee -- and sawdust for the stuffing." He paused and glanced at the women. "Oh, only the finest sawdust, to be sure, from the best timber mills in Attica..."

"I see Salmoneus hasn't lost his touch," Xena said wryly.

"Well, and of course it takes marketing genius. But nowadays, Dad doesn't quite have the energy to travel around selling his wares. So he and Mom make them, back in Athens, and I take them on the road. I'm Theodorus, by the way. Say -- how do you know Dad?"

"Long story," said Xena.

"Are they really a huge hit?" Gabrielle asked.

Theodorus shrugged and studied his fingernails. "Well, they're, uh, doing okay. I mean, it's Dad's most successful idea so far."

"Here, I'll take one." Xena reached for the small purse at her sash. "And tell your father Xena said hello."

"Xena?" His eyes grew wide. "The Xena?"

"The very one."

"Oh -- oh!" he stammered. "An honor, truly an honor. And you must be Gabrielle, the Bard of Potideia? Dad will be thrilled when I tell him I met you two. He talked about you a lot when I was just a kid, you know -- everybody thought you were dead back then, and then there were all these stories that you two were back, not a day older..."

Xena picked up a bear -- light brown, with a dark green patch on its back and an especially puzzled facial expression -- and gave Theodorus a crooked grin. "In case he's wondering, we don't have a formula for anti-wrinkle cream."

The young man laughed appreciatively.

"Say," he continued, "that's a ... different look for you, isn't it? Not that it isn't very becoming -- I don't think I've ever seen anyone wear this shade of pink quite so magnificently..."

"Pink, huh?" Xena darted a gleeful look at Gabrielle. "Just a change of pace. Listen, I'd love to stay and chat, but we have to go and you have to sell bears. Good luck."

Salmoneus' son bowed gallantly. When the women turned back to wave at him, he was already working his marketing genius on his next customer -- a gruff soldier who, judging by the bouquet he held awkwardly in his left hand, was indeed on a quest for romantic gifts.

"So Salmoneus got married and had a son," Gabrielle said. "Hard to believe, isn't it."

"What -- that some woman could have been that desperate?"

"No!" Gabrielle laughed, crinkling her nose. "Come on, Salmoneus isn't so bad. I mean, just because he isn't tall, dark and..." She broke off in mid-sentence, staring at the bear in Xena's hands. "Wait a minute -- what are you going to do with that? Don't tell me it's for..."

Xena gave her a somewhat sheepish, mock-defiant stare.

"Xena! Talk about desperate... Now you're scaring me. The pink dress must be affecting your brain."

"I thought it was red."

"So did I -- but obviously, I was wrong." Gabrielle gazed at the bear's disconcertingly cute muzzle and the silk heart, then shook her head ruefully. "What next? Flowers?"

"Well," Xena said, "now that you mention it..."

* ~ * ~ *

The stern-faced, black-and-silver-clad priestess at the temple of Ares examined her visitor with suspicious disapproval, taking in the dress and the roses in her hand.

"Do you have some business here?" she asked.

"I'm here to make an offering on the altar of Ares," Xena said, holding up the roses.

Instead of going to the temple in Pella, likely to be swarming with soldiers, she had come out to Menetta, a small town about a three-hour ride from the capital, which, according to the innkeeper, had a modest shrine to the God of War. She had intended to wear her usual leather and armor, but at the last minute, some fit of whimsy had made her put on the pink (or red) dress; maybe it just went better with the roses and the bear. However, it wasn't very well-suited for riding and now looked rather worse for the wear, the full skirt wrinkled and specked with mud.

"Really," the priestess said. "Are you quite sure it's not the temple of Aphrodite you want?"

"Positive."

The priestess glared at her.

"Nobody brings flowers to the God of War!"

"Pity," said Xena. "It's about time someone did."

"Young woman!" The priestess was beginning to turn crimson. "Have some respect!"

"So flowers aren't good enough," Xena said with mock peevishness. "How about a ferocious beast of the woods?"

The priestess gave her a wary look. Xena reached into the cloth bag she was carrying and produced the bear, whose face now seemed to have an expression of slightly smug innocence that perfectly matched her own.

"All right," the priestess said in a steely tone. "I have had just about enough of your nonsense. I suggest you leave right away."

"Not until I've left my offerings on the altar."

"Do you want me to call the temple guard?"

"Sure," Xena said, smirking. "Only I wouldn't put your money on the guard if I were you."

As the priestess vacillated, blue light flared up behind her, and Ares materialized standing next to a very mediocre marble likeness of himself. The woman turned around and then dropped to her knees, gasping, "My Lord!"

He acknowledged her with a curt nod, then motioned to Xena to follow him into the altar room.

When the door had closed behind them, Xena strode toward the altar, feeling Ares' eyes on her. Her hands were steady as she carefully laid out the roses on the brocade-covered surface and then put the bear next to the flowers, propping it up against a silver candle-holder. Maybe, she thought, it would have been better to just come up to him and hand him her gifts with a perfectly straight face.

"So," he said. "If I don't return your calls, you're going to hang around my temples and harass my priests."

She turned around -- she could do it -- and faced him at last.

"I might."

His face outwardly impassive, Ares looked from her to the bear and back, as if not quite knowing on which to comment first.

"What happened to the leather?" he finally asked.

"It's on vacation."

His eyes glided over her dress. Was he, too, thinking back to that time when she was innocent, with no notion of violence or darkness or evil -- and when she had unaccountably felt drawn to him and he to her?

"What's that?" He nodded toward the bear.

"The perfect romantic gift."

Ares lifted an eyebrow and walked over to the altar.

"You mortals get strange ideas."

He picked up the bear, turned it over in his hands and poked absent-mindedly at the silk heart on its chest before putting it down.

"You're not going to make this easy, are you," he said quietly.

"Have I ever?"

She came closer, close enough to touch him. He swallowed and said, his voice choked, "Xena ... don't."

"Ares -- "

"You know why it has to be this way."

"I know why you think it has to be this way. But you're wrong."

Ares looked down. "I almost destroyed you."

"You mean, because I almost got myself killed? Or because I almost slaughtered a whole city?"

He raised his eyes again, a corner of his mouth twitching into a bitter smirk. "Take your pick."

"Don't you see?" Xena took another step and put a hand on his shoulder. He flinched but didn't draw back. She could feel the tension in his body, see it in the rigid muscles of his face. "I didn't slaughter a whole city. I faced a choice, and I chose not to. And Phaleron..." She shook her head, voicing a thought that had been nagging at her. "That was my fault. I wasn't quick enough and I wasn't focused enough. I slipped up. It could have happened in some other fight."

"It doesn't matter," he snapped. "I got you to lead my army. That was bad enough."

"You didn't do it on purpose." Then, for just a moment, a jolt of dread made her skin crawl. "Did you?"

"No." He sighed. "But I wanted it."

"Well," Xena said, "maybe it wasn't such a bad thing."

She moved even closer, her hand still on his shoulder.

"All these years, I was afraid of what would happen if I got too close to -- my old life. I thought the darkness in me was still too strong ... that it would take over if given a chance. I didn't think I'd be able to resist it. Now, I know I can. It's like I stepped on a flimsy bridge over an abyss, and found out that it could hold me."

For the first time, Ares' eyes flickered into life. Still silent, he watched her intently, hanging on every word.

"I trust myself more than I have in a long time. And that means I can trust you, too." His lips quivered a little as he lifted a hand and touched her hair. "Even if you're bad for me, I can be good enough for both of us."

He chuckled softly but made no further move.

"Besides," Xena said, "maybe you're not so bad."

Her breath was on his cheek now, her voice low, her lips almost touching his ear.

"Ares -- do you remember the story of the scorpion and the swan?"

"Huh?"

"How does it end?"

"You know how it ends," he said in a ragged whisper. "The scorpion stings the swan. That's what it does."

"Gabrielle told me once that when she was little, if she heard a story with a sad ending, she'd make her parents tell it again and again because she kept hoping it would end differently next time." Xena paused, half expecting Ares to make a sarcastic remark at Gabrielle's expense. "Well, this time, it did end differently. The scorpion didn't sting the swan."

"Xena..." His fingertips touched hers, sending a shudder through her body. "A story doesn't end differently just because you want it to."

"You tried to stop me, Ares. You called off a war. When was the last time you did that?"

The God of War was silent, his breathing labored now.

"My guess," she said, "would be never."

If she turned her head now, their lips would touch...

"Ares. One more thing."

"What?"

"I love you."

With a groan, Ares wrapped his arms around her, holding her so tight she almost couldn't breathe, burying his face in her hair.

"I've missed you so much," he whispered, his breath hot on Xena's neck.

"I've missed you too..."

She pulled back, took his face in her hands and brought his mouth to hers. She had meant for it to be a slow, gentle kiss, but they were both too impatient, and when it happened it was almost violent.

Breaking the kiss, Ares lifted her and sat her on the edge of the altar, sliding the dress off her shoulders, brushing his lips over the bare skin. She kept enough composure to grin and mutter, "Right here?"

He managed to smirk back at her.

"I don't think you'd make a very good virgin sacrifice..."

"Not even one out of two."

"So." He gasped when she tightened her legs around his hips. "Where shall we go?"

"How about your place?"

"My place." His voice was thick. "You don't mean -- "

"I do." She looked straight at him and smiled.

"But you never -- "

Xena covered his mouth with hers, stopping him.

"I'm not afraid anymore."

"All right." He drew her toward him, then glanced at the flowers and the bear. "I'd better get your offerings out of here. This kind of stuff could scare away a lot of my worshipers."

Xena was about to say, "And that's a bad thing?", but the temple was already dissolving before her eyes, its walls turning into a swirl of sparks. A moment later, they stood in a dimly lit hall adorned with weapons and tapestries of battle scenes, having shed their clothes at some point during their trip. They kissed again, their bodies pressed into each other. When Xena opened her eyes, she was looking at one of the silver skulls that adorned the throne of the God of War, its faintly glowing ruby eyes staring back at her.

Ares caught her stare and gave her a questioning, slightly frowning look. Her misgivings came back fleetingly, until she reminded herself that the skulls were only symbols of war and slaughter; she had faced down the real thing, and won.

Putting her hands on Ares' shoulders, Xena gently pushed him backwards and down on the velvet-covered seat. She lingered for a moment to run her tongue over his nipple, reveling, as always, in his breathless response to this caress. Then she lowered herself into his lap, taking him inside, feeling the soft touch of his hands on her breasts. She watched as the last of the wariness and the doubt in his eyes melted into pleasure and tenderness, and wondered if her own eyes were mirrored in his.

* ~ * ~ *

Gabrielle rode at a slow trot down a shady street in Thessalonika, breathing in the slightly tangy scent of lemon trees. Chrysilla's house, she'd been told, was at the end of this street.

Unthinkingly, her hand reached into the pouch at her belt and touched the parchment inside. Phaleron's letter was dry and formal, recounting the recent battles and victories of Ares' army -- until the very end. As much as my life is on the battlefield and in faithful service to my Lord Ares, I do miss you, dear Chrysilla, and look forward to seeing you when the war is over. Give my regards to your husband, and kiss my nephew and niece for me. When I see them playing, I sometimes think of how we used to be when we were children.

She didn't regret killing Phaleron. Under the circumstances, there was nothing else she could have done; anyway, if she hadn't done it, Ares would have, and probably in a far grislier fashion. But she did wish, with a touch of sadness, that it hadn't been necessary -- that the circumstances had been different, for all of them.

Ever since the mission at Helicon, and maybe even earlier, she had been trying to understand if she actually took joy in killing, if the intoxication of battle got to her and brought her pleasure. But maybe the important thing was that she fought for the right reasons. Maybe people -- good people -- had been given the capacity to thrill to combat because otherwise, it would be too unbearable for them to fight and to kill, and sometimes they had to. Maybe this wasn't good or bad; it just was. Smiling faintly to herself, Gabrielle thought that perhaps she should ask Ares about it; she felt fairly certain that he would be back in their lives. Of course, she had only recently gotten him to give a reasonably straight answer to a serious question, and the chances of that happening again any time soon were pretty slim.

She dismounted at the gate, using a heavy, ornate brass ring to knock. An attendant opened and she said, "I'm here to see Chrysilla. It's about her brother."

"Please come in," he said, and Gabrielle stepped into what turned out to be a stunningly beautiful garden. Amidst the lush bright green, dark cypresses stood tall, their pointed tops almost black against the sky, and marble fountains gleamed white and silver, and rose bushes burst into a scattering of crimson and pink and white. After securing her horse, the attendant ushered her to a gazebo and told her that the mistress would be with her right away.

As she waited, lulled by the garden's subtle scents, by the warbling of birds and the ripple of a nearby fountain, a woman's voice called out, "Phaleron!" and Gabrielle almost jumped. Moments later she heard a child's tinkly laugh, and a curly-headed boy, no more than four summers old, sprinted through the garden bouncing a ball. A slightly older girl was running after him while a portly middle-aged woman, obviously the nanny, tried in vain to keep up.

"Phaleron! Aricia! You come here now!" she shouted. "It's time for lunch!"

The bard exhaled and shook her head. The children and their pursuer disappeared behind the rose bushes. Then she saw a tall woman in black coming toward her down the path. Gabrielle felt undeniable relief at the realization that Chrysilla already knew of her brother's death. She wasn't especially beautiful, and her face looked a bit haggard, but there was a quiet warmth in her smile as she looked at her visitor.

"I'm Chrysilla," she said.

Gabrielle stood up. Her legs were slightly numb and tension coiled in the pit of her stomach.

"I'm Gabrielle."

"You have something to tell me about my late brother." Chrysilla motioned to her to sit, and they both sat down.

"I have ... a letter." She reached into the pouch.

"You knew Phaleron? You served with him in the army?"

"Yes," Gabrielle said.

A small spasm ran across Chrysilla's face.

"They didn't tell me much about the way he died," she said. "Do you know what happened?"

Gabrielle turned away. Then she raised her head, meeting the woman's hazel-grey eyes, and took a deep breath.

"I do."

* ~ * ~ *

"You're about to lose the last of your cavalry," Ares said.

"It's all part of my plan."

"Isn't everything?"

"Not everything," said Xena.

She sat cross-legged on a rug, wearing her tunic and skirt now but not her armor. Ares, in his leather pants and vest, was sprawled on his stomach next to her, propping himself up on an elbow, facing the side of the chaturanga board. It was good to see him so relaxed.

With a flourish, he used his ivory elephant to sweep Xena's knight off the board.

"Check," she said, moving her queen.

"Sneaky. I have to protect myself, don't I? Let's see ..." He lazily moved a finger, making one of the castles slide into place on its own.

"Is that what you want to do? Okay..." Xena grinned at him and proceeded to take the castle. "Check. No, no, your king can't touch my queen because -- look." She gestured toward one of her elephants, poised in the queen's defense.

"Very well then... retreat," he said with a mock pout.

She stretched out her leg, nudging his arm with her bare foot as she made her next move. "I've got you this time."

"You think? I'd say it's still up for grabs. What if my queen goes here and --"

"Hmm... All right, so it's still up for grabs."

Ares reached over and stroked Xena's ankle, then slid his hand up toward her knee.

"Hey," he said. "Anything special you want to do when the game's over?"

"Sure." Xena put her hand on top of his, lacing their fingers. "Have a rematch."

END OF PART TWO

(to be continued in Part 3)