The Truth About Love

Atrophy

Disclaimer: All characters and concepts are property of Universal Studios and Renaissance Pictures. I haven't taken them out of their original packaging, honest.

It had snuck up on him gradually.

If pressed, he wouldn't be able to pinpoint the moment the little pangs of disappointment morphed into this black, clawing need whenever she opened her mouth and he could just see the words, coated in cruelty, dancing in her eyes. Yet they did, he fell, and here he was, clutching pathetically to his memories of a turned back painted gold in the light of the setting sun.

Aphrodite had only given him sad eyes and left him to his black mood when he'd raged at her, at the inherent wrongness of her craft, and the suffering it had caused him. He knew he was in the wrong. It wasn't her fault. He couldn't bring himself to call Aphrodite back, though.

And so here he was, cold next to the faintly glowing ashes of a fire he could not bring himself to revive, alone, and damnably mortal. He knew he should find himself something to eat—mortals needed food ha-ha—and stop obsessing over the depressing state of affairs because gods knew what being seen like this would do to his already shredded reputation, but then he'd slip and his thoughts would spin right back to Xena.

It always comes down to Xena.

He wondered what she would do. Would she take pity on him? Berate him gruffly and hide her concern behind a stoic mask even as her fingers worked to coax that fire back to life and thaw his ground-together bones? Hah. That was something she reserved for the… the downtrodden masses or whatever who would thank her with tears in their eyes. He—

A bundle of kindling dropped in front of him, stirring up the dust so that it floated into his face until his nose and eyes watered.

"For crying out loud, Ares. Are you trying to kill yourself?"

He looked up. Oh, it was the little blonde. He hadn't even noticed her. She'd gotten pretty damn good lately, and he liked to think that he had a hand in that, at least.

"Gabrielle?" he croaked.

"It's freezing at night, you know. I bet you can't even move your hands anymore, with how blue they are. You haven't eaten in days, and why wouldn't you collect enough firewood to last through the night? Do you want to wake up in the morning?"

"Gabrielle," he said again, and she stopped and peered at him.

"Are you crying?"

"What? No!" He growled and brushed at his face clumsily. She was right; his fingers were pretty numb. "That was thanks to you and your companionable dust cloud."

She snorted inelegantly and started building up the fire.

"What are you doing here?" Ares said. "I thought you were escorting Livia to your home towns or something."

"Eve."

"Oh whatever."

"How eloquent."

"Are you just here to insult me? 'Cause I was managing just fine."

Gabrielle gave him a sceptical look, idly fanning the growing flames. "Don't be stupid. We've been following you for days."

"We?" Oh yes, that didn't sound eager at all.

"We were worried. Plus Eve made a speech about our duty to the needy or something to that effect."

"Needy?" he said, outraged.

Eve showed up while Gabrielle was busy snickering at him. She smiled at him while she draped a blanket over his shoulders. There was an edge to it, though, and he didn't bother stifling a smirk. Her eyes narrowed and glittered with pure violence before her hand clenched and she turned away stiffly. He wondered how he could have ever missed that she was Xena's.

Boot-steps sounded behind him, and he wondered if this was how Xena felt when she told him she could sense him. Every hair on the back of his neck stood up and seemed to strain toward her. He shivered.

A couple of skinned rabbits dangled in front of him, padded with winter fat.

"Roasted or stewed?"

"I'll stew. He shouldn't have solids on a shrivelled stomach." Gabrielle paused and said, "That is, if you haven't broken the pot on some ruffian's head again."

He imagined the look of exaggerated, wide-eyed innocence on her face and huffed a laugh into the blanket bundled around him.

He wasn't cold anymore.

She didn't pay him too much attention. She had brushed his hair back from his forehead to check his temperature while the food was cooking and he leaned into her touch unrepentantly although his stomach cramped with emptiness at the movement. And when he stared at how dark her eyes looked even as firelight danced across her cheek, she turned and fixed him with an inquisitive look so open his breath caught before she turned back to what Eve was saying.

It was after the bowls were soaking in a bucket of water that she looked at him carefully.

"You're quiet," Xena said.

Ares shrugged. "No cards left."

"You would bluff on an empty hand."

"Thanks," he said drily.

He supposed something showed on his face that wasn't supposed to, because Eve gave a little huff and left the fire.

"I'm going to bed."

Gabrielle gave them an amused glance and resumed ignoring them for the scroll in her hands.

Xena frowned. "What were you trying to do? Don't you have anywhere to stay?"

"Well, I'd been staying at a temple, but now that my current state of mortality is out, that's not really an option anymore, is it?" he said.

"Oh."

"Is that a heartfelt apology I hear?"

She gave him a half-hearted glare. "We'll leave you some supplies. Gabrielle made nutbread that should last you a few days at least, and if you follow the river South, you'll hit some town I've never bothered to remember the name of in half a day."

Ares was quiet for a while. "Ah."

Oh well, hello, here comes that clawing again.

The flames were flickering merrily, throwing her face into sharp relief. He found his eyes drifting over her as if he couldn't already recreate every detail in his embarrassingly hormonal fantasies. Her lips quirked, but she sat still. He reached out and brushed a thumb across her jaw.

"Will you give me a kiss goodbye before you leave?"

There was a jerk from Eve's bedroll, and Xena sat back away from him.

"We'll see," she said.

Gabrielle was hiding her mouth behind a hand. Public humiliation, how nostalgic.

He watched Xena get up and walk away, and he shrugged. "Can't blame me for trying."

Xena didn't respond, but Gabrielle's shoulders were shaking now.

He didn't press the issue.

The next morning he woke up alone. They must have been in an awful hurry. They left the battered stewpot.

Ares stood and stretched, letting the heavy blanket slip down to the ground. He would never get used to sleeping on rocks. He headed toward the sound of running water to wash his face, and he tripped over Xena's boots with a thud.

He looked up to see Xena walking toward him, wringing out her wet hair with one hand. Damp tendrils were clinging to her neck.

He must have looked bewildered because she gave him a small smile and said, "No harm in sticking around for a few days."

Gabrielle said, "I found berries for breakfast" from behind him.

Ares stood up and rubbed his sore elbow.

"So, I guess I'll have to wait a few days for that kiss?"