Disclaimer: The characters of Xena, Gabrielle, Ares, Joxer, Ephiny, et al. are the 100% exclusive property of Renaissance Pictures and its staff, which means I'm goin' to hell for just using them, let alone the situations I put them in. (The prospect will please the Moral Majority, no doubt.) The story features a close relationship between two adult women that includes a consensual sexual element: if this is illegal where you live, because of content or age restrictions, or if it violates your personal moral code, please hit your "back" button and find something less subversive to occupy your time.

I am tired of waiting for someone else to provide the entertainment I want. You may be in the same frame of mind, and your comments are welcome. It's not as though I do this for a living, however, and amateur writers tend to be a wee bit sensitive. The tone of your comments will inspire the spirit of my reply.

There is no way to express adequately my gratitude to LaLa and NetGyrl (two entirely admirable persons) for giving me the chance to post this on their very own ultra-fine website. A good way to compensate them for doing similar good things for humanity is to appreciate the high-quality content they provide (well, 'cept this) and to say thank you to them for giving us a forum. It ain't so damn long since we didn't have a voice at all.

By An Unseen Hand

by BluInk

Part 1

The townspeople see, with apprehension, the silhouette of a horse and rider appear on the crest of a hill just outside town. The rider bristles with armament and the horse looks powerful and well-rested. On its back, the rider carries what may be the cylindrical barrel of a powerful and previously unknown weapon.

The horse pauses for a moment so that the rider can survey the town below. In contrast to the horse, the rider looks weary. After a moment, the rider clucks softly to the horse, which starts down the trail to the town.

Cut to a leather saddlebag slamming onto a counter. The camera tracks away from a powerful hand holding the saddlebag to the face of Xena, which is stern and shut. In her eyes is a weary grief beyond all human age. Over her shoulder is slung a succession of wide bamboo tubes with wax-sealed plugs on the ends.

A gray-bearded, dark-skinned man hurries to the counter from the back of whatever this building is he's in. He stops short when he sees a warrior in full battle gear at the counter. She turns her head to him with deliberate provocation; he clasps his hands nervously, trying to resist the inclination to bow to her.

Cut to Xena riding away without the tubes as the graybeard, excited, calls to the back room, "Miriam!"

He has to repeat this a few times before a good-natured woman's voice says, "Don't burn the place down without me. I'm coming."

A woman, older than Xena but younger than the graybeard, emerges from the back room. She has dark hair and skin, dark friendly eyes, and large white teeth, which she shows in the smile she uses on the excited, half-coherent man. "All right, Daniel," she says indulgently. "What is it?"

"A commission,"` he sputters. "A copying job."

She crosses to the counter and picks up one of the bamboo cylinders, breaking the seal and removing the plug. "I know you realize that we've already got as much work as we can handle," she says easily. "Until I can train three more people to write--"

"She had a sword," Daniel says. "A really big one."

Miriam nods with abstracted amusement and removes a couple of sheets of parchment. "Well, let's see what we've gotten ourselves into." She lays out some of the sheets and begins to read, rapidly. "'When the woman warrior beheld the God of War in the midst of the fray...'" She shuffles through a few of the other documents, then looks up at Daniel, excitement in her face. "Do you know what this is?" He shakes his head, puzzled. "This is Gabrielle's Life of Xena." She goes through another couple of sheets, alive with attention. "I've never seen it."

With suppressed excitement, she rolls up the parchments and slips them back into the bamboo tube. "I'm taking these to the scriptorium right away," she says, hefting the tubes onto her back.

The camera cranes away from the doorway as Miriam walks down the street. As the camera pulls away, we see people walking, shopkeepers sweeping the street, a militia squad on horses trotting unhurriedly. As an unearthly whine begins on the soundtrack, the camera swoops back down, aiming for Miriam, making her way swiftly through the crowded streets.

The camera angle changes to street level to show Miriam walking toward it. The whine reaches an irritating pitch and she lifts her head, wondering what the noise is. Something hits her and she goes down, tubes clattering into the street.

Miriam squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, undergoing some terrific struggle, as passersby rush to her. An older woman takes her arm and asks if she's all right; breathless, Miriam nods.

She opens her eyes dizzily and starts to get to her feet, making a heroic effort to look as though nothing's wrong. The older woman scolds her: "I told you you were working too hard... shut up in that closet, scribbling all day..."

Miriam brushes her off with an uncertain smile. "I'm fine, just lost my balance... clumsy..."

As she collects herself and sets off again toward the scriptorium, her face takes on a look of fear, but she doesn't break stride. She's walking rapidly when she whispers, "Who are you?"

Fade in as Xena, her face bleak, strides into a tavern and tosses a small leather bag onto a table. She glares at the tavern-keeper, who hurries to bring her a pitcher of foaming ale and a tankard.

Xena picks up the tankard and empties it, throwing a leg over the chair and settling onto it. After she pulls down all the ale, she refills the tankard without missing a beat and empties it again.

Miriam, looking scared but game, comes through the door and looks around. She spots Xena and her jaw sets. Reluctantly, she makes her way through the crowd and stands at the table where Xena is sitting, trying not to cringe. Finally, she folds her hands in front of her and says quietly, "Good evening."

Xena looks up at her, arrogance in every line of her body. She nails Miriam with a baleful eye and inquires, "Are you bringing me more ale?"

Nonplused, Miriam hesitates. "Not at the moment."

"Then get lost," Xena says, dismissing Miriam's existence and picking up the tankard.

Miriam wheels. "The lady doesn't wish to be bothered," she mutters. "So I won't." She begins to march out, but stops a couple of steps away. "No," she says, shaking her head. "Forget it." It sounds uncommonly like one side of an argument, and Xena watches with mild amusement as Miriam begins to gesture to an invisible opponent. "I said I wouldn't..."

The battle lost, Miriam turns back to the table. Xena regards her indulgently until Miriam reaches for the tankard. Xena tightens her grip as Miriam tries to get the tankard away from her. As they struggle over it, a bit of ale slops over the side.

Something in the other woman's persistence intrigues Xena, and she lets go. Miriam moves the tankard away gently, setting it carefully right in front of Xena. There's a ring of ale on the table. Miriam reaches out with a tentative finger and draws a line away from the ring of ale. Then she draws another line across the first line. She stares in bafflement at the figure she's just drawn: a circle with a plus sign beneath it.

In an instant, Xena is up, moving with the speed of a viper. Before she can take a breath, Miriam is pinned to the table on her back, Xena's hands tight in her collar. She has about three seconds before Xena strangles her, and she has no idea why.

"Xena," she gasps, putting her hands up to pull the warrior's away from her throat. "Don't kill her!"

It's the last thing the warrior expects to hear. Baffled, she pulls away.


Fade in on Xena closing the door to a private room in the tavern. Miriam tries surreptitiously to rub her throat before Xena turns back to her. Xena's anger is still visible, overlaying the grief that Miriam can almost feel.

Miriam waits apprehensively for Xena to speak. Xena folds her arms and leans against the door. The silence gets a bit thicker.

"Well?" Xena says finally.

"Well what?" Miriam snaps, her temper finally getting the best of her.

"You must have an explanation."

"For what?"

Xena sighs; all right, we'll waste some time. "Where did you find out about that symbol?"

"What is it?"

Xena didn't expect the question. "What do you mean, 'what is it?'"

Now it's Miriam's turn to get exasperated. "It's a perfectly reasonable question, isn't it? I draw some little symbol on the table in spilled ale, and the next thing I know you're trying to kill me. Perhaps you'd be good enough to give me a list of things I should avoid drawing in the future."

Xena is implacable. "Where did you get it?"

Miriam rubs a hand over her face. "This has been a very odd day."

"Who are you, anyway?"

"Maybe I should ask you that first."

Warily, they study one another. Subtly, Xena shifts a hand to her chakram.

"All right, all right," Miriam says hastily, irritated. "The gods know it's not as though I have anything to bargain with. My name is Miriam, and I'm a scribe."

A line appears between Xena's eyebrows.

"I was carrying a bunch of scrolls from my employer's office to our scriptorium for copying. I was walking down the street and--" Pride keeps her from finishing the sentence; she shuts her mouth stubbornly.

"Go on," Xena says, dangerously reasonable.

"Not until you tell me who in Tartarus you are," Miriam replies, equally neutral.

"I'm the one who gave Daniel the scrolls to be copied," Xena answers.

Miriam thinks this over for a moment, then nods and walks toward the door. Bravely, she stands in front of the much-taller woman who's armed to the teeth and says, "Let me pass."

Xena opens her mouth to answer when Miriam begins shaking her head. "No," she says, as if arguing. "The next thing you're going to say is that she really is Xena."

As Xena watches in bafflement, the argument with the unseen antagonist continues. "I don't know what you're up to," Miriam says, "but I don't think much of it. You two can play your little games without me--"

Xena puts out a muscular arm and stops Miriam, who is already on her way out. "Sit," Xena commands. Miriam, out of options, goes back to the table and settles in, keeping both eyes on the warrior.

"Who are you talking to?" Xena demands.

Miriam says, "First I want a guarantee of my safety." She adds hastily, "And that of my friends... family... anyone I might possibly like... anyone I ever met..." She looks at Xena and speaks, but not to her, saying oddly, "I know I have your assurance that she won't do anything, but I'd still like hers."

"Granted," Xena says, more and more intrigued. "Now, will you explain what's going on?"

"I knew about the symbol," Miriam says abruptly, "because she told me to draw it. She said you'd recognize it. She said it was your idea to have a symbol you could use to recognize each other, no matter where--or when--you met."

"Who did?" Xena says through suddenly dry lips.

Miriam hesitates, though both of them know what she's going to say next.

"She says... her name is... Gabrielle."

Fade in on a very angry warrior princess striding out of the tavern. It's pitch black, and as Xena stomps off to the stable to get her horse and get outta Dodge, Miriam bursts out of the doorway of the tavern, right behind her.

Xena opens the door of the stable, much more quietly than she feels like doing. Miriam slips around her and stands in the way.

"Move," Xena growls.

"No," Miriam says.

Xena gives her one exasperated quirk of the lip, then shoulders her out of the way. Miriam goes down in a heap and Xena begins to saddle Argo.

"Talk to me," Miriam says, getting heavily back to her feet.

"I don't talk to con artists," Xena says shortly.

"All right, so what do you want? For me to prove it?"

Xena snorts with contempt.

Miriam moves to block her way again. "How?"

Xena moves out of the way to get Argo's bridle.

"Tell me. What would convince you?" Xena ignores her and begins to slip the bridle over Argo's head. "What would you consider proof?"

Xena's face, carefully neutral up to now, slides into a mask of grief. "Gabrielle is dead."

Miriam looks her right in the eye. "I know."

Xena puts up the mask again. "I don't have anything you'd want."

"Not necessarily," Miriam says steadily. "There are the scrolls. That could make a bard's reputation. In the right hands, they could make their owner rich."

Xena rounds on her. "Is that what you did? Read them all and fill in the gaps?"

"I didn't have time," Miriam says. "Will you listen to me?"

Xena's teeth set so hard it seems they'll shatter. "You're very clever," she says, grinding the words out. "But I'm through having people tell me she's just around the corner, or just sleeping, or just waiting for me."

Miriam holds her eye for a long time, then turns away, muttering, "I knew you wouldn't believe it. Ah, well. Hope springs eternal."

Miriam puts a hand over her ear reflexively, reacting to something we haven't heard, as Xena's sword slithers out of its scabbard, heading for her throat. Miriam shakes her head and blinks a few times, as if clearing her mind; the sword stops a few inches away.

Miriam sighs and rubs her ear, glancing up at Xena ruefully. "Apparently, I've just said something tactless," she apologizes. "I'm sorry." Her unfocused gaze takes in the sword. "You--ah--you don't suppose you could put that away, do you?"

Xena regards her for a moment, then whips the sword up and slips it into the scabbard. She turns away and keeps saddling Argo.

Gently, Miriam puts out a hand and places it lightly on Xena's wrist. After a moment, Xena's furious, grief-stricken blue eyes snap up to meet Miriam's.


Fade up on the two of them walking through the woods. Xena is leading Argo and Miriam is having just a bit of trouble keeping up, but it's not because of the pace: she seems a little distracted and makes half-gestures as though there's water in her ear. Xena is scanning the forest, looking everywhere but at Miriam, keeping an eye out for danger.

"Do you always have the fidgets?" she asks Miriam.

"Beg pardon--sorry?" Miriam asks sunnily.

Xena is about to make some sarcastic reply when she snaps to the alert. The sword is out and she's looking around for trouble. Miriam, about three steps behind, begins to look around in befuddlement.

A war cry sounds as several disreputable-looking leather-clad people charge them. Xena smiles with grim enjoyment--this is the first fun she's had in a long time--as several of the thugs surround her. She's thwacking away with stern merriment as Miriam backs slowly away from two of the warriors.

The expressions on the warriors' faces get happier as they realize that Miriam isn't going to put up much of a fight. Maybe they can use her to convince Xena to drop her sword.

Miriam shakes her head, looking at the warriors with an expression of pleading. "I can't," she whispers. They laugh in the time-honored manner of villains and advance on her anyway.

Xena, thumping away at the other warriors, can't quite get away to help Miriam (she may not be too upset about that). "Fight!" she shouts shortly.

Miriam is now up against a tree, holding up a shaking hand. "Please," she says to one of the warriors, who reaches for her arm, intending to rip it off and beat her over the head with it.

He's on his back in a flash, Miriam looking down at him in stunned incomprehension. The other warrior rushes her; she picks up a fallen branch and knocks him sideways, into the bushes. A nice flourish with the tree limb sends another of the warriors to dreamland. In a few seconds, they've cleared the road of persons of questionable intent.

Xena sheathes the sword and looks at Miriam with a new respect. "You're handy with that thing," she says. "Why didn't you tell me you knew how to fight?"

"I don't," Miriam says, dropping the branch with loathing.

Cut to a sunset fading in the west as Miriam sits beside the campfire, cleaning fish for supper. The job is distasteful; she makes a face as she works, exclaiming, "Are you sure she's that fond of fish?"

For the first time, we hear the voice she's been responding to: it sounds like it's a long way away, and the sounds are produced with an audible effort. "It's her favorite," the voice labors to say. It's a familiar voice, a woman's, with a bard's cadence and a wry, lively humor.

"Well, by all means, then. If it makes it easier on her," Miriam says, wrinkling her nose at the fish as she fillets it. She stops for a moment, sighs, and lays the knife down. "So how do you think it's going?"

"Rough," says the voice.

"Can you blame her?" Miriam mutters. She picks up the knife again, sets to the fish with determination, and says casually, "You're sure you can't just talk to her yourself?"

"No," says the voice, with an effort. "She can't hear me."

"It isn't for lack of trying--" Miriam begins, then shuts up as Xena appears with an armload of firewood.

"Talking to yourself again?" Xena inquires mildly.

"No," Miriam snaps, sawing at the fish.

Gently, Xena reaches for the knife, takes it from Miriam's hands, and begins to glide it through the fish. Miriam frowns, then gets up and adds more wood to the fire.

"I don't have anything," Xena comments conversationally. "No stash of loot, no jewelry, no palace. I'm not easy to travel with and warlords tend to attack me--frequently. I don't make conversation and the only stories I have are in the scrolls Daniel has for copying." She puts the filet down and cleans the knife. Miriam still hasn't said anything. Xena turns her head to look at Miriam directly as the fire crackles. "So why are you here?"

Miriam stacks a couple of logs on the fire.

Xena isn't accustomed to not being answered. "What are you getting out of this?" she asks Miriam, who's still working on the fire.

Miriam shakes her head subtly. The new logs sputter and she sits back on her heels, feeding scraps of wood to the fire. The silence goes on for a few more moments, then Xena gathers up the fish and begins to wrap it in leaves for cooking. She stands and brings the fish to Miriam, who places it in a pan and shoves it into the middle of the fire.

"'I dedicate this fish to Lyceus,'" Miriam mutters.

Xena's eyes narrow. "What?"

Miriam busies herself with the fish, waiting for more. Finally, she says, "I don't know. That's all there is."

Xena stands over her a moment, irresolute. Miriam looks up at her. "Ask. She said you're dying to know."

"You've seen the scrolls."

"'Seen' is a bit different from 'read'," Miriam says, exasperated. "There were dozens of them, and there weren't any copies, and you know yourself that you only gave them to Daniel in the afternoon, and I met you that evening..." Her attention goes to inner space for a moment, then she shrugs and shakes the pan. "Besides, she says she never wrote that one down." She looks up at Xena again. "Is that true? Do you know what's in all of them?"

"I read them all," Xena says in a low voice, crouching next to Miriam. "Every one of them." Miriam turns to her. "Over and over. I know what's in each one--every story--"

Miriam's fury grows on her. "Then why in Tartarus--"

A burst of dazzlement knocks her off her feet as Ares appears in a cloud of glory. Xena is on her feet instantly; Miriam takes a bit longer to rise.

"Hullo, Xena," Ares says. "Found a replacement for the blonde so soon?"

"What do you want, Ares?" Xena asks.

"Ares? And you think I'm a con?" Miriam sputters, furious.

"Who's the new sidekick?" Ares asks, not really interested.

"I'm her cook. And her servant. Groom, stablekeeper, scribe, purveyor of armament, chronicler of deeds, magician extraordinaire, and Grand Vizier of the queendom of Xenopolis."

"Miriam--" Xena interjects.

"Well, as long as he's claiming he's Ares--"

"He isn't claiming," Xena points out. "He is."

"Whatever you say," Miriam mutters, turning back to supper, giving Ares a rough shove. "Out of the way, Your Highness."

Ares decides she's beneath his notice and turns to Xena. "How have you been?"

"I'm sure you've been keeping an eye on me," she responds.

"Listen, Xena," he says, holding up his hands. "I'm truly sorry for what happened to Gabrielle. The two of you made quite a team. She gave you the fire to keep going. Oh, I won't deny I made use of that... but without her, you would've curled up on a rock somewhere until the sun bleached you to dust."

"So why are you here?" Xena demands, with an edge. "I can't possibly be any use to you any more."

"I watched you fight today," Ares replies softly. "You're like an automaton--all the moves are there, but no spirit. I don't just want the win, I want the glory. I don't care about the body count, I want the soul. And yours... is lost."

Miriam gives the frying pan a vicious rattle.

"I wanted to do you a favor," he says, ignoring the noise.

Xena quirks an eyebrow. "A favor from the God of War?"

"If he's the God of War, I'm Diana the Huntress," Miriam mutters.

"I went to the Elysian Fields to see how she was doing," Ares says.

Xena clenches her fists.

"Not to use her as a pawn, or to bring her back," he says. "Just to see how she is. Is she content, did she have anything left to finish, that kind of thing."

"And?" Xena says, out of patience.

"And she's not there," he says simply. "Not in the Elysian Fields, not in Tartarus, not in Valhalla, not in the Wood between the Worlds, nowhere. I couldn't find her."

Xena looks away, certain he's lying. Miriam crouches closer over the fire.

"I asked around," he continues. "I have connections. Nobody knows where she is. I'm sorry, Xena--I couldn't find her."

Xena's eyes grow hard with fury. "Very pretty, the two of you," she says, casting a smoldering glance at Ares and Miriam.

Miriam springs to her feet. "So now we're in on it together? I've got news for you, my friend--I prefer my conspirators with a little more brains and a little less... hair!"

Miriam, fed up, stomps away from the fire, as Xena gives Ares a look, which he returns, in spades.


Fade in on a tavern, where an attentive, half-plowed audience listens to Miriam acting out a story. "The giant rose to his full height..." she says, rising slowly from a crouch on the floor. "Bigger than that... bigger than that... bigger than that, even!" She's now standing with her arms spread wide, looking menacing.

She tells the story in fits and starts, a phrase at a time; it's obvious that she's hearing the story as she tells it. "His strides measured... three leagues. Four." Her gestures don't quite match the story; it's as though she's being just as surprised as the audience. "His voice... roared... with a boom like thunder..." She adds a bit: "And his breath could knock over trees."

Pan across the room to Xena, sitting at a table, trying to ignore the floor show.

Cut to the two of them walking through a market, Miriam jingling a couple of coins and looking pleased with herself.

"That's a good way to attract thieves," Xena says unobtrusively.

"Like they'd get within a league of the Warrior Princess," Miriam says. "See? Told you I was just in it for the money." She puts a hand to her ear, shaking off a voice we can't hear.

Xena is fairly disgusted with the humor. Miriam catches sight of something and turns to Xena. "Oh, there's something I want to show--look at. If I leave for a few minutes, you'll be here when I get back?"

Xena nods reluctantly.

"Promise?" Miriam says.

Xena looks impatient.

"Won't be long," Miriam says.

She exits the frame as Xena looks around for something useful to do.

Cut to Miriam entering a shop that has beautiful stocks of paper, pots of ink, and various writing implements. She enters almost in a hush, looking around for a clerk. When she doesn't see one, she sets a couple of coins gently on the counter and picks up a delicate quill.

She dips the quill in an open pot of ink, brushes off the extra, and applies it to a piece of scrap paper. Her face breaks into a smile and she picks up a blank sheet. She stands there a moment, quill poised over the paper, and waits.

"Sing to me, Muse," says a far-off voice, "of the Warrior Woman." Miriam begins to write, repeating the words more slowly and with less inflection. "Strong and powerful, brave and courageous, clever and wise."

"Wait, wait!" Miriam cries, trying to keep up. She bends closer over the paper, drawing the characters with care.

"This is the tale of the Warrior Woman and her third battle with the War God," says the far-away voice.

"...'the War God,'" Miriam says. "Slow down or you'll only get every other word."

"The sun had barely lifted its golden head above the horizon when she rode forth on her mighty charger Argo, every sense alert for danger--" the voice continues. The exultation in the voice matches Miriam's growing excitement. "The only sound was the drip of the dew from the leaves of the trees, the only sensation a slight breeze that ran over her skin--"

"Yes," Miriam says unobtrusively, continuing to write. "Yes--"

"Then came a feeling like a flicker of lightning over her--"

A leather-clad hand descends on the counter and Miriam jumps about six feet in the air.

"What do you think you're doing?" Xena growls.

"Testing a pen," Miriam says with dignity, trying to stuff her heart back into her chest.

Xena regards her soberly for a moment, then makes a sudden move and snatches the paper. Miriam makes a grab for it. "That isn't yours!"

Xena gets it away from her and scans it. She makes her face expressionless as she reads, then sets the piece of paper back gently on the counter. After a long moment, she looks away from the paper and back at Miriam. "What comes next?"

Miriam looks away for a moment. "You heard something and sent her into the woods on some pretext. When the attack came, she was lost in the fog and couldn't see you. She followed the noise of the fighting and got back to you just in time to see... I don't know, she's trying to describe the warriors, but it's--it's not--"

Xena's face takes on three different expressions at once. "Which one of the scrolls is this on?"

Miriam clears her throat and speaks with reluctance. "This is one she hadn't gotten to yet." She can't keep her eyes on Xena's face and looks down.

Gently, Xena reaches out and cups Miriam's chin in her hand. Miriam raises her eyes again. "Where is she?" Xena asks softly.

The tears spring to Miriam's eyes as she answers. "Here. In here. By the gods, I don't know how, but she's--"

Xena raises her hand and places it gently on Miriam's cheek. "Gabrielle?"


Fade in as Xena and Miriam sit at a campfire. Miriam is brooding into the flames while Xena peppers her with questions. Xena is much more eager to hear the story than Miriam is to tell it.

"When did it happen?"

"Right after Daniel told me we'd gotten a bunch of scrolls to copy. I knew whose they were, and I knew you were in town. I got the scrolls ready to go to the scriptorium and was on my way. I heard this sound... like an eagle swooping down on a mouse... and something knocked me over."

"'Something'?" Xena's eyes are bright with curiosity.

"Someone. I felt someone. Folding into me. My soul."

Xena's not really all that interested in Miriam's reaction. She waits a moment before asking the question she's longing to ask. "Is she there?"

Miriam sighs. "Yes."

Xena looks away, then redirects her eyes to Miriam's face. "Can I talk to her?"

Miriam rubs her hands, then holds them to the fire, not answering.

"Come on," Xena says, all suppressed excitement. "You wanted me to believe you... I do. You spent all this time trying to convince me it was true... now I believe it. What else do you want?"

Miriam says in a low voice, "What happens to me?"

Xena clams up; she's thought of this, but doesn't really want to discuss it.

"I just disappear into the background, is that it?" Miriam turns to Xena for the first time. "You two get to pick up where you left off, and I just... go away?"

She waits for an answer, looking steadily at Xena. Finally, Xena spreads her hands in helpless consternation and says, "There must be a way--"

"Then let me decide. When and how."

Xena feels trapped, but she can't think of any way out. "All right."

Miriam leans back. The flames play over her face as she closes her eyes. As the fire ebbs and grows, little bits of Gabrielle's face flicker across Miriam's. When she opens her eyes, she's Gabrielle.

"Xena," she breathes.

Xena moves forward cautiously. "Gabrielle?"

"It's been so long... I've missed you so much..."

Xena puts out a hand and touches Gabrielle's wrist. "And I thought I'd lost you..."

"You'll never lose me. I'll always be with you."

Xena strokes Gabrielle's hair gently, not really able to believe it. "How did this happen?"

Gabrielle frowns and takes Xena's hand. "I'm not sure. It's not like anything I ever experienced before... I never heard of anything like this. It was as though I was walking in darkness and then... I spotted something familiar."

"What was that?" Xena asks, her face shining.

"My scrolls. I... I felt you near them. I thought if I could get them back... I could get you back..."

Xena moves slowly to sit next to Gabrielle, putting an arm over her shoulders. "How long is this going to last?"

Gabrielle shakes her head. "I don't know. It's not always easy to... to reach you... and we have to think about..."

"I know," Xena says, tightening her arms around Gabrielle. "Let's spend the time we have wisely, then." She leans in to Gabrielle, closing her eyes.

"Whoa, there, warrior princess," Miriam's voice interrupts. When Xena opens her eyes, Miriam has both hands on her shoulders, holding her off. Xena sits back, disoriented. "Let's not get carried away, shall we?" Miriam continues, clearly livid.

Xena, mortified, sits back. "I'm sorry," she says.

Miriam lowers her hands. "I can't say I didn't see this coming (you should pardon the expression), but..." She shakes her head, then gets to her feet abruptly and picks up a waterskin. "I'm going to get some more water... some cold water."

Xena, hugely embarrassed, stutters an apology. Miriam holds out a hand in a peace offering. "I think we both need to cool off a bit." Xena takes her hand and grips it for a moment.

"We'll work this out," Miriam says in a soft voice.

She's bashing her way through the woods with the waterskin when a nimbus of blue light bursts in front of her.

Ares smiles his dazzlingly nasty smile. "Hi there. Remember me?"

"Xena--" Miriam calls, uncertainly.

And in another blue flash, the two of them are gone.


Fade in as Xena gallops Argo hard, bent over the horse's neck. Xena's expression is grim and Argo's hooves are throwing clods of dirt everywhere.

Cut to a tracking shot of a room heavy on the stone-and-armor motif. Ares is standing in front of an impressive-looking throne made of marble and wood, set on a dais down which he's making a theatrical descent.

"Welcome," he says in his best intimidating-jerk voice. "I hope you've been comfortable. 'Course, it doesn't really matter if you have or you haven't... because let's face it. You're pretty much expendable."

The tracking shot reveals Miriam, standing with her hands behind her back. "Good reason not to bother with me, then," she says steadily.

"Oh, I didn't say I couldn't use you... in fact, you figure prominently in a little plan I'm putting the finishing touches on."

"Kill me now," she says sarcastically. As the camera tracks, we see that her hands are heavily manacled.

He laughs. "You know, you could be a lot more fun than that mealy-mouthed little goodie-goodie blonde. She was enough to give you a permanent case of nausea."

Miriam feels her blood begin to boil. Gabrielle is obviously starting to percolate in her brain.

"But you..." he says seductively, coming close enough to run a possessive hand along her face. "You look like you've got some fire. Some spirit. Enough to spit right in my eye."

"Never mind killing me," she says. "I'll do it myself."

"Oh, yes," he says, as if this just confirms his opinion. "Much better than that whiny... little... Gabrielle."

"Shut up," she says with precision. "If you really are the God of War, I beg your pardon."

"Tell me," he says in his best I'm irresistible manner. "Is it a scam, or is it true?"

"Is what true?" she asks, not giving an inch.

"That there's more than one of you in there."

"Take off the manacles and I'll tell you."

He makes a gesture, and the manacles come apart. She frees her hands and tosses the iron onto the floor with disdain.

He puts an I'm waiting smirk on his face.

"It's not a good idea to lie to the God of War, is it?" she asks. He shakes his head. "All right. It's... it's a con." She sighs.

"I thought so," he says lightly.

"A scriptorium isn't the best place in the world to meet warriors. I thought... it was a chance to... to get away from a really dull life. And who wouldn't love the chance to travel with Xena, Warrior Princess?"

"I understand," he says, folding his arms and leaning back. "There's something about her. Something you can't name... and you can't tame."

"It couldn't have worked," Miriam says, shaking her head. "She just can't let go. She can't... she can't forget. I was stupid even to try."

"Oh, I don't know," Ares answers. "Let's just see how far we get with you, shall we?"

Miriam raises her head. "Excuse me?"

"You're not getting away that easily," he says. "You see, you know it's a scam, and I know it's a scam... but Xena believes it. And I can use that."

Miriam gives him a shaken, disbelieving laugh. "Are you kidding? You can't use me as bait. She couldn't be less interested in me."

"I think you're wrong," he says meaningfully.

Cut to a small, dirty cell, as Miriam presses on the stones, looking for a way out. As she searches, Gabrielle's voice fumes in her head.

"Whiny? Goodie-goodie? Mealy-mouthed?"

"You're getting much better at talking," Miriam points out in a whisper.

"Like no one's ever heard him whine!"

"Also shouting," Miriam whispers. "Listen, give me a hand with this, will you?"

"Which hand would you like?" Gabrielle asks, exasperated.

"Can you find a way out of here?"

"It may have escaped your notice that this is the stronghold of the God of War," Gabrielle says.

"Yes, we've met. I have a theory," Miriam murmurs, trying the stones. "I think he probably wants us to get loose. I think he wants us to get back to Xena. I think he wants her so angry that she'll do something stupid."

"Like what?" Gabrielle asks.

"Like going after him."

"Why?"

"So he can get her back."

"Makes sense," Gabrielle muses. "Try that one."

"Which one?"

"Allow me," Gabrielle says. Miriam's hand moves as though someone's holding her wrist, and her hand comes to rest on a stone near the sconce that holds the torch. She presses it, and the wall opens with a creaking noise. Miriam hesitates, not moving.

"What are we waiting for?" Gabrielle hisses.

"To see if anyone's coming after us," Miriam says.

For a moment, two pairs of ears in one body strain for a noise. Miriam nods with satisfaction. "That's it, he wants us loose," she remarks.

"You're not staying?" Gabrielle asks, incredulous.

"Of course not," Miriam says. "Ambrosia makes me sick."

Cut to Xena creeping through the God-of-War version of ventilation ducts in the dungeons of Ares's bachelor pad. She's moving cautiously, the sword in her hand: he's the God of War, after all, and whatever protects his place is bound to be nasty.

She hears a sound and whips around, sword at the ready. Miriam steps back with exaggerated caution.

"Glad to see you too," she whispers.

A storm of contradictory emotions runs over Xena's face. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," Miriam says seriously. "Both of us."

"Come on," Xena says, taking her arm.

A flash of blue interrupts their flight. Ares stands in the way. Xena hauls out the sword again, while Miriam puts her hands on her hips, looking bored.

"'Both of us'?" Ares inquires, lifting an eyebrow.

"Joke." Miriam snaps. "Private joke."

"Why don't you let me in on it?"

"Ares, we don't have anything you want," Xena says.

"You have everything I want," he says. "However, it's not going to do us any good to stand in this drafty dungeon and debate the matter. You," he turns turn Miriam. "Both of you. It's amazing, but I didn't have any idea the solo act had turned into a duet. And do you know how rare that is? How did you do it?"

"I could tell you, but then I'd have to level Olympus and sow salt on the ruins," Miriam responds.

Xena, taken aback, lowers the sword slightly.

Ares blazes with anger. "Do you know who you're talking to?"

Miriam shrugs. "Claims to be the God of War. I suspect the... claim... is compensation for some kind of... shortcoming?" She glances just to the south of his belt buckle as she finishes the sentence.

Now Ares is really pissed. He raises his hand to obliterate the two of them, but checks the gesture just in time. The anger steams in his face as he thinks it over.

"Aha," Miriam says, with satisfaction. "You can't do it, can you?"

This hadn't occurred to Xena. "You have a reason for leaving us alone, don't you?"

He deflates suddenly. "All right. I admit it. It's not often that I run into something I can't explain. And as far as something that we can't explain... that almost never happens."

"'We'?" Xena inquires, crooking an eyebrow. The sword flashes up and into the sheath on her back.

"The gods on Olympus," Ares says flatly.

"I'll be switched," Miriam says, impressed: it's not often the universe picks her out as an experimental subject.

"You may yet," Ares comments.

"So... you grabbed her--" Xena begins, gesturing with her head at Miriam.

"--and Gabrielle," Ares interjects.

"...brought us both out here... why?"

"I have a deal for you. An all-expense-paid trip to someone who can figure out what happened and what to do about it."

"And in return?"

"Satisfy my curiosity. Let me go with you."

Xena and Miriam look at one another. This is a test of their new, involuntary partnership, and both of them hesitate before deciding.

"What do you think?" Xena asks Miriam.

"That's a new one!" Miriam exclaims. Xena frowns. "Sorry, that just slipped out," Miriam says, subdued.

Xena smiles indulgently. "What does she think?"

Miriam looks away for a second, then turns back to Xena and nods, with a hint of amusement. "I think she's tired of being a brunette."

Fade in as Miriam, Xena, and Ares walk down a pleasant green road surrounded by non-threatening trees. Miriam is just finishing declaiming a poem, with gestures as extravagant as she can manage and still keep up the forward momentum.

"And for five stadia around
The villagers still hear the sound
Of angry giants' mighty tread
Along the hallways of the dead."

"That wasn't precisely the way it happened," Xena says mildly. It's evident, though, that she's enjoyed the story.

"It's the way Gabrielle says it happened," Miriam responds, with an unshakeable faith.

"Loyalty," Ares mutters.

"She's worth it," Xena says, in a tone that indicates shut up or else.

"So when do we get to your magi?" Miriam asks conversationally.

"I like to build up the suspense," Ares says.

"So where--" Xena begins.

"There," Ares says, pointing.

Reverse angle as the three of them emerge from the woods. A beautiful little cottage crouches in a verdant clearing. The only thing that keeps it from being a standard English cliche is that, instead of a foundation of picturesque river rock, the cottage rests on two giant chicken feet.

"That?!" Xena exclaims.

"That," Ares says, trying hard to hide his smirk.

Xena unshoulders her sword and strides to the door. Behind her, Miriam and Ares settle into a patient stance, crossing their arms and watching.

As Xena approaches the door of the cottage, the chicken feet come to life. The cottage dances nimbly out of her way. Irritated, she follows it. Each time, as she reaches for the door handle, the cottage lifts up on its chicken feet and moves out of her way.

Ares leans sideways to whisper to Miriam. "You've heard this one, haven't you?"

"Not this particular one," she whispers back, "but let's say the punchline sounds familiar."

Xena decides to wait out the cottage and stands in one spot. The cottage dances up to her; when she reaches for the door handle, it sashays out of her reach.

"What do you think?" Miriam whispers to Ares.

"I don't get tired," he responds with quiet glee. "Especially not when I'm seeing something I don't see that often."

The cottage begins to circumnavigate Xena, moving faster and faster until it's a blur. She tries to walk away from the circle and the cottage blocks her way. She moves in a different direction, and instantly the cottage is squatting in front of her, stolid.

Miriam hides a smile with her hand.

Xena feints left; the cottage follows. She goes swiftly to the right and it hops in her way.

"All right, Ares," Xena says through her teeth. "You've had your fun."

"Me?" he says, spreading his hands in a gesture of wounded innocence.

"Xena--" Miriam begins.

"Tell it to let me out," Xena says.

"Xena," Miriam says again, patiently.

"I'm not kidding, Ares," Xena says.

"Xena," Miriam says.

Xena finally turns her attention to Miriam. "What is it?"

"It... wants to play."

"What?" Xena asks, puzzled. She jerks a thumb at the cottage. "That?"

Miriam nods.

Xena starts to make the reply that's uppermost in her mind, then her better nature takes over. She looks around on the ground and picks up a considerable tree branch. She taps it along the ground and the cottage goes bananas, dancing excitedly on its feet.

Xena heaves the tree branch as hard as she can and the cottage dashes out of sight, weaving its way among the trees. After a moment, it's lost to sight. Xena quirks a lip at Miriam, who smiles back.

With a suddenness that sucks the air out of the clearing, the cottage rushes back, with the stick caught in one of its feet. It settles down in its original spot and begins to worry at the stick.

Ares glances at Miriam, impressed.

"It's customary to pet it when it does a good job," Miriam calls out.

"I am not--" Xena says. The cottage leaps up, ready to flee again. With a sigh, Xena reaches out and pats some of the greenery next to the door. "Good cottage, nice cottage," she mumbles.

Miriam walks up to the door, patting one of the feet, and reaches for the handle. The door opens smoothly, and she gestures Xena and Ares inside.

Inside, the cottage looks just like a regular cottage, except with all kinds of fantastic things hanging from the ceiling and ranged around the walls. The disorder would be irritating, except that the objects have both an individual and a collective charm.

"What now?" Xena asks.

"We wait," Miriam says, moving to sit in a chair covered with brightly-colored, tumbled-about cloth. The bundle of cloth moves and she gets out of the way hastily.

"Now, now," the bundle exclaims, in a cracked, reedy, high voice. A gnarled little face appears out of the bundle. "What's the idea of interrupting my nap?"

A tiny, lumpy old woman emerges from the chair and moves toward the hearth. She puts a teakettle over the fire and turns to face her visitors.

"Ares," she says disapprovingly. "And what makes you take time out of your busy schedule of spreading mischief to pay me a visit, at long last?"

"I've been busy," the God of War replies.

"Hmph," she says, indicating just how lame she thinks the excuse. "Well, at least you've brought your friends to while away a few hours with a helpless old woman."

"About as helpless as the whole Roman army," Xena says in a low voice.

"Xena... Miriam..." Ares says, indicating each. "I'd like you to meet Baba Yaga."

"We're delighted to meet you," Miriam says. "And your charming house."

"Yes, it likes a bit of a chase now and then," the old woman says. "Well, I'll take fifty dinars if you've come on something other than a social visit," she says, fixing Ares with eyes as bright as an eagle's.

"Well--" he sighs.

"Oh, I'm accustomed to it by now. No one ever comes here just to see how I am."

"You don't exactly make it easy," Xena says.

The teakettle whistles and Baba Yaga pours the steaming water carefully into a teapot. She drops a spoon into the teapot and glares at it for a moment; it begins to stir itself. She gets the tea settled to her satisfaction and looks shrewdly at Miriam. "Getting a bit crowded in there, is it?"

Miriam smiles. "She's good company."

"Oh, no doubt, no doubt. She's a good girl."

"Thank you," Miriam's mouth says.

"But it's not common for there to be one where there should be two. You don't quite know how to handle it. And you don't think you ever will. Either of you."

Miriam nods, her smile fading. Xena gets a sense of just how much she's had to put up with since her unwelcome visitor took up residence.

"Well, it's not common, but it's not unheard of," Baba Yaga comments. She pours out four cups of tea and hands them around. What makes this remarkable is that she doesn't touch the teapot or the cups, which float in a graceful ballet around her head.

"Can you help us?" Xena says, holding her tea, untouched.

Baba Yaga blows the steam off the top of her cup and looks up at Xena searchingly. "What exactly is it that you want?"

For some reason, the question makes Xena hesitate. "I want her back."

"You have her back," Baba Yaga says instantly.

"I mean--you know what I mean."

"I know what you mean," Baba Yaga says mildly, sipping her tea. "The question is, do you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Xena asks, the storm threatening.

"I'm not so certain this couldn't be a good thing for everyone involved."

Miriam turns pale and sits down slowly on a three-legged stool.

"For a while," Baba Yaga amends. "The two of you--excuse me, the three of you--could do a lot of good things for a lot of people."

"For how long?" Miriam croaks.

"A while."

"How long is 'a while'?" Xena asks, trying not to scratch her trigger finger.

"Until they're done," Baba Yaga answers.

"I can't!" Miriam bursts out. "Baba Yaga, you have no idea what it's like to live with her! With both of them!"

"You could learn a lot," Baba Yaga says, implacable and kindly.

"About never being left alone? About having to spend time with someone who thinks I'm a murderer... and an idiot... and a con artist... and a useless burden? And all the time this voice is drumming, drumming, drumming in my ear--and I can't get either one of them to just--shut--up!"

"Oh, this is gonna be fun to watch," Ares says, with a hint of sadistic enjoyment.

Baba Yaga stands up. She's about as tall standing as Miriam is sitting down; she comes up about as high as Xena's chakram. She reaches out both hands and puts them onto Miriam's shoulders. "Don't think of it as a prison sentence," she says softly. "You don't think I'd say this if I didn't think you could do it, do you?"

"Is this your doing?" Xena hisses with sudden malice.

Baba Yaga ignores her, looking into Miriam's eyes. After a moment, she sees what she wants and pats Miriam's head. "All right, then, little one," she says indulgently, like a pampering grandma.

"Will you stay close?" Miriam whispers.

"I'll never be very far away," she says, infusing her crone's voice with love. "From either of you." 

Ares reacts with disgust. 

"Go, my child," Baba Yaga says softly to Miriam. "Have your adventures."


Fade in on Ares and Xena standing in a verdant glade at sunset. Ares shakes his head. "Well, you've got quite a situation on your hands. Sure you want to play babysitter for a couple of years?"

Xena glances behind her. "Doesn't look like I have much choice, does it?"

"This oughta be fun. Don't worry, I'll have a ringside seat." Ares raises his hand and disappears in a showy flash of blue light. With sparkles.

Xena makes her way wearily across the glade to where Miriam sits, regarding the sunset with what might be bitterness and what might be indifference. Xena looks down at Miriam, who doesn't look at her.

"On to the adventures..." Xena begins.

Miriam looks at her in disbelief.

"All right," Xena says. "This isn't exactly what I imagined would happen. But... I'm going to be there for you. Both of you. I promise."

Miriam gives her a tentative smile. Then she stands up, dusts off her knees, and sighs. "Well, then. Let's get to it."

The two of them begin to walk into the sunset.

"So where are we going?" Miriam asks conversationally, as they get farther away from the camera.

"I have no idea."

"Say, Xena, do you think we could stop by Ithaca on the way?"

"What for?"

"I think I'm gonna need some ink. And some parchment. And a few pens..."

Part 2

A terrific crash accompanies a flash of lightning. In the illumination, Xena and Miriam appear for a moment, slogging through an entirely inhospitable, densely-wooded area.

Cut to a two-shot of Miriam and Xena. Rain streams from their faces and shoulders as they force away the vegetation and try to pull their feet from the mud.

Miriam cups her hand around her mouth and shouts. "Tell me that we have some reasonable expectation of finding the bad guys before we drown."

Xena is distracted by trying to get through the mess. "What?"

Miriam gives up. "Are we going the right way?"

Xena nods, saving her breath for the task of forcing their way through the woods.

The two of them are slashing at the trees, heaving through the thick undergrowth, when another dramatic flash of lightning arcs through the forest, splintering a tree and sending it toward the two women.

Xena strongarms Miriam, who spins away and drops to the ground. The tree makes a beeline for Xena and knocks her into the mud, pinning her legs. Xena fights for air, trying to lift the tree trunk from her legs.

Miriam catches her breath and dashes toward Xena, heaving at the tree. Xena tightens against the pain and grabs Miriam's arm.

"Hang on," Miriam shouts over the noise of the storm. "I'll get you loose."

Xena nods, distracted by the pain.

The rain drops enough in volume that we can hear Miriam muttering a half-prayer. "Tell me how to get her out of this."

Fade in on Miriam leading Argo to the tree. Argo balks. Miriam whispers, "How do you get her to do what you want?" She listens for a moment, the rain dropping from the tip of her nose, then nods in frustration. "Thanks, that's very helpful." She turns back to Argo. "Listen. I know I don't know how to talk to you, but I need you to go over there and wait till I tie something to your saddle."

Argo snorts the water out of her nose and walks to the spot Miriam needs her to be in. Surprised, Miriam stands for a moment. "Thank you. That's perfect."

Miriam loops a length of rope around Argo's saddlehorn and makes it fast. "All right," she says softly, clinging to Argo's bridle. "Let's work together."

The two of them make their way carefully backwards, Miriam encouraging Argo without words. Cut to Xena, holding herself up by her arms, ignoring the pain as the tree trunk lifts off her legs.

Miriam whispers to Argo, telling her to stay still with a pat on her neck. For a moment, Miriam closes her eyes and gathers her strength, clinging to Argo's neck, as the rain continues to fountain down her body.

Argo stands like a rock as Miriam makes her way to Xena, moving with slow determination. She puts her hands under Xena's arms and begins to pull with deliberation and tenderness.

"I'll try not to hurt you," Miriam growls with the effort.

Xena closes her eyes, bares her teeth, and submits.

Fade in on a room in an inn. Two burly women are putting Xena to bed; she submits with a singular lack of grace.

Miriam sits in a chair beside the bed, trying desperately not to fall asleep. She props her hand under her chin as the women get Xena settled.

The storm rages outside as Xena finally settles back, her pain-wracked body finally finding a comfortable resting place.

Miriam is dozing, her body relaxing, when Xena's voice runs around the room.

"Are you all right?"

Miriam rouses herself to answer. "We're fine."

"Good." Xena closes her eyes and sinks into sleep.

Cut to a warrior shouldering his way into the tavern. He makes his way to the bar and speaks in a voice just loud enough to carry over the noise in the common room. "Has a woman stopped here? A warrior?"

Miriam comes down the stairs, holding out her hands in greeting. "Joxer!"

The man at the bar turns, startled.

"It's good to see you," the woman says.

Joxer looks confused.

The woman regroups. "Er... she's told me a lot about you..."

"Who has? Xena?"

"Yes," Miriam replies with relief.

"She's here?" Joxer asks eagerly.

"Yes... she's had an accident..."

"Is she all right?"

"Yes, sure, she's just gonna need a little... a little..." Miriam stares at him. "She told me you were... it's very, very good to see you, Joxer." She lays a hand on his arm.

Promptly, he misunderstands. "I better go see her."

"Good idea," Miriam agrees immediately.

Cut to Joxer walking into the room tentatively, Miriam moving with hesitation behind him. He clears his throat and speaks.

"Xena?"

Xena, in the grip of a powerful boredom, looks up. Her face takes on an uncommon softness. "Joxer," she purrs, holding out her hands.

Joxer approaches the bed, taking Xena's hands in his. "How are you?" he asks softly.

"All right. And you?"

"Fine," he answers with reluctance. "That is--"

"I understand," she says quickly.

Miriam studies the two of them as she moves to pour tea for the Warrior Princess and her guest.

"I heard you had gone back to Thrace," Xena says conversationally.

"Yes, I did." There's a certain awkwardness to his speech. "I had to... you know..."

"Yeah," she replies softly, looking away.

"Tea?" Miriam says brightly, holding up the teapot.

"Ah... Joxer..." Xena remembers her manners. "Have you met Miriam?"

"Yeah," he says shortly. "Downstairs." He nods with fragmentary courtesy and looks back at Xena. "Are you all right? What happened?"

"Tree," Xena says, and that's that.

"Oh," he says with relief. "I thought it was maybe... you know, a god or something."

"We've had enough of them lately," Xena says. Miriam's eyes brighten with anger. She controls herself and hands a cup to Xena. "What's this?" Xena asks in her best I'm-not-happy voice.

"The healer left it for you," Miriam murmurs.

"Like that's all I have to think about." Xena's scowl provokes an equally dark expression from Miriam.

"Well, why don't I leave you two to talk over old times?" Miriam says, her fury apparent. She strides to the door, flings it open, and stops, turning her head as she listens to something we can't hear. "You don't want much, do you?" she whispers, anger making her voice shake. "You've got to be kidding. Who is this guy?"

Joxer watches in befuddlement as Miriam, her teeth set, moves to the side of the bed and sits. At Xena's inquiring look, she remarks mildly, in a code she's inventing on the spot, "Wanted to stay."

Joxer turns back to Xena, ignoring the interruption; he's used to odd things happening around the Warrior Princess. He tries to grope his way through the unfathomable pain to his emotions. "Xena... I wanted to say... I know what you're going through. Every morning when I wake up... she's the first thing I think of... and it seems impossible to go through the day knowing I'll never... never..."

He looks away. Miriam directs a laser-beam gaze at Xena, who shakes her head subtly. Miriam's eyes narrow.

Joxer doesn't notice the exchange. He looks back at Xena, pleading for her to restore his hope.

Xena sighs. "Joxer, you know... she's in a better place..."

"The Elysian Fields?" he asks eagerly.

Xena glances at Miriam, who is getting angrier by the moment. "Maybe..."

"Not... not Tartarus?" he pleads. "Oh, not that. Not someone as good as--"

Miriam's wordless communication becomes urgent. Xena ignores her. "No, of course not. I mean, I don't think so."

"Then... where?"

Xena looks away. "I don't... I don't know. Someplace where she can tell her stories--"

Miriam snorts in disgust, unable to bear it any more. Xena looks at her with an attitude of begging. 

"I never got a chance to tell her... I know she thought I was... well..." Joxer clears his throat and looks away.

Miriam puts out her hand and touches Joxer's arm. "You want to know what she thought of you? She thought you were kind... and brave... and resolute. She wrote about you once: 

'Behind the laugh, perhaps too merry,
The smile a shade too full
This weary world will never see
The pure and noble soul.'"

In the silence that follows, Joxer puts a hand up to brush at his eyes. Xena tries to hide it, but she's moved. Miriam meets Xena's gaze, then stands up abruptly and goes to the door. She leaves, closing the door quietly behind her, as Joxer looks up.

"I never heard that," he says softly to Xena, not noticing that Miriam is gone.

"Yes..." Xena says reluctantly," there's a lot I'm learning about Gabrielle too lately."

Cut to Miriam stalking about under the full moon, her hands cradling her elbows. Around her, in a sudden breeze, the ends of a shawl flutter and dance.

"I can't believe her," she mutters.

As if from a distance, a voice murmurs on the breeze. "She has a good reason for everything she does."

"This?" Miriam exclaims in disbelief. "She won't tell him what's going on, and he's in such misery!"

"She has her reasons," the voice repeats patiently.

"You're sure of that? It's--" Miriam stops pacing. "It's cruel, that's what it is. To leave him without any comfort... he thinks you're beyond his reach forever."

"Miriam," Gabrielle's voice echoes gently. "How can we know what kind of grief he's going through?"

Miriam sputters and waves her hands.

"We can't," Gabrielle says. "But there's one person who can."

Miriam's hands and jaw drop at the same time. She thinks it over. "How did you get so wise?" she asks finally.

Gabrielle laughs.

Cut to Miriam latching the door gently behind her. Joxer is asleep, exhaustion painting his face, in the chair by the bed. Miriam gives him a smile that isn't all hers and stops to blow gently on the embers. She adds a few more sticks to the fireplace, then holds her hands out to the growing glow.

"Back so soon?" Xena's sardonic voice cuts through the silence. Startled, Miriam moves away from the fire to approach the bed.

"I thought you'd be asleep by now," Miriam says in a near-whisper, drawing the shawl around her shoulders. In the firelight, she looks a lot smaller and more vulnerable.

"Where have you been?" Xena growls.

"Talking things over," Miriam says wryly. She sits on the side of the bed, glancing at Joxer. "Did you and he..." she turns back to Xena, then realizes that she has no idea how to finish her thought and shrugs with a helpless chuckle.

"You thought I would tell him," Xena says, lowering her voice.

Miriam looks away and plucks at a strand of the bedcovers. "I thought you might."

"It's not that I don't believe you--" Xena begins.

Miriam gives her a quick the-hell-you-don't glance, then lowers her eyes again. "She said... you'd have your reasons," Miriam murmurs. "She said you were the only one who could possibly know what he was feeling. She said... to leave it to you, because you always know what you're..." She looks up; to her shock, there are tears in Xena's eyes.

Xena stares unseeing at the fire, the tears glimmering. "That's her. That's Gabrielle..." she says, the pain audible. "Gabrielle was the kind of friend who believes, without question, that you're everything you ever hoped you could be. Dreamed you could be, knowing that you'd never..." Xena turns away a little to touch her eyes gently, hoping Miriam won't notice. "She saw the best in me... no matter what."

Miriam cocks her head a little, listening. "That's because there's so much good. Xena... you've seen life from all sides... and you've decided to do the right thing. And you're so good at the wrong thing..." She clears her throat and falls silent.

"She told you that?" Xena asks, hope making her voice unsteady. The two of them are speaking in barely audible tones.

"Well... there's one thing that I always get from her, always. Love. For you." Miriam raises her eyes and looks into Xena's. "Faith. In your ability to do good things. The certainty that you've been... singled out... to use your gifts for the benefit of others. She's certain it happened for her."

Xena tightens her hand on Miriam's. "She gave me so much more than I ever..."

"Shh..." Miriam says, placing a gentle hand on Xena's cheek. "Don't think it's one-sided. It's both of you. Together, you're a team that nothing in the world can withstand. And it's based on that unshakeable love you have for one another..."

Xena raises a shaking hand to her eyes. "I miss her..."

"She misses you too," Miriam responds, stroking Xena's cheek gently with the back of her hand.

Xena's eyes find Miriam's. "Stay near," she says with an unmistakable bluntness. "I want both of you near me tonight..."

Miriam's eyes hold a tenderness she hasn't shown before. "Of course," she says, pulling her shawl away from her shoulders. "Both of us..."

Fade in on Joxer, pouring a dipperful of water over his head at the well in the town square. He shakes the water out of his hair and splutters a bit, turning to look around at life in the street early in the morning.

"Morning!" Miriam calls out. She strides forthrightly down the street, greeting him with a bright smile.

He blushes and turns away, a little bashful. "Morning," he murmurs. "Ah--Xena up yet?"

She shakes her head, not in the least embarrassed. "Still asleep when I left. She's still not quite back to her old self. She's getting cranky, though--that's a good sign. Have you had breakfast? C'mon, I'm buying." She links her arm through his and turns him around, heading back up the street.

"You seem to know a lot about Gabrielle," Joxer comments conversationally.

"Yes, well, you know, that's an interesting story..." Miriam says, gesturing with a free hand and leaning in to him.

A sudden thud halts them in their tracks. A huge staff has whammed into the ground in front of them. Joxer immediately straightens up, looking fierce; Miriam just stares.

One of the biggest, nastiest, scuzziest warriors they've ever seen blocks their way. He's got one filthy hand wrapped around an evil-looking staff; with the other, he's demolishing a large apple in a couple of bites, chunks and juice spraying in a cloud around his grimy face.

He spits some of the apple at Joxer, then grins, showing off his tooth.

"Sad when cousins marry, isn't it?" Miriam comments sourly.

"Theobolus wants you to know something," the ogre says.

"Oh, yeah?" Joxer says, going into his bantam routine. "And who might Theobolus be?"

"Warlord," Miriam says shortly. "Big. Ugly. Bad manners, and worse breath. Reminds me a lot of this guy."

"Theobolus put a lot of work into taking this town," the plug-ugly says. "And he's gonna keep it."

"Is he, now?" Miriam says, putting her hands on her hips. "You may not be aware of this, inbreeding being what it is, but this town is under the personal protection of some pretty powerful warriors, including this imposing gentleman here." She indicates Joxer with a toss of her head. "So you might want to tell Theobolus to get over himself, if you can remember a message that long."

The plug-ugly laughs and jerks a dirty thumb in Joxer's direction. "Him? Hah! He's hardly reason enough for me to sharpen my sword." He gives her a scan. "You, on the other hand, might be a tasty target for a good blade."

"Well, whaddaya know?" Miriam says. "The concept of metaphor has reached the mud flats. Just tell your boss he'll regret it bitterly if he tries anything here."

The mercenary laughs, juice dribbling into his beard.

Miriam regards him for one more brief instant, with disgust, then takes Joxer's arm and continues down the street. "Come on, Joxer," she mutters.

The plug-ugly's hand shoots out and grabs her arm. "Wha'd you say? Joxer?" He turns to Joxer. "'Zat who you are?"

"That's me," he says with bravado. "Wanna make something of it?"

"Naw, you're not much. But where you go... Xena usually shows up."

"I was just about to mention her," Miriam says.

"Now, wait a minute--" Joxer protests.

"Is she here?" the warrior demands of Miriam.

"Yep," she says with satisfaction, crossing her arms.

"I'm plenty dangerous--" Joxer asserts.

"You tell her to keep her nose out of this, or she'll answer to Theobolus."

"Hey, Xena's not the only one he has to worry about--" Joxer says plaintively.

"Xena won't be scared off by some toothless wonder in scuffed leather."

"Theobolus don't like threats."

"I could be a threat to him--" Joxer asserts.

"How does he deal with missing teeth and multiple fractures?" Miriam asks brightly.

The plug-ugly gives her a menacing smile.

Cut to Xena, in the bed, clenching her fist on the table in her room. "Theobolus."

"So who's Theobolus?" Miriam asks.

"A bully who grew up and learned which end of a sword to hold."

"So you could take him, right?" Joxer says.

Xena looks at him in disbelief.

"I mean, he's not so tough, is he?"

Miriam grows still. "Xena--" she says uncertainly. "I told his lieutenant he'd better not try anything because you're here."

"Yeah," Xena says. "Thanks for that."

"Can't you do anything?"

"Has it occurred to either of you that I can't even stand up?"

"Not to worry," Joxer says. "Xena'll think of something. Right?"

"In every one of Gabrielle's stories," Miriam says slowly, "there comes a time when Xena spells out the plan."

Both of them look expectantly at Xena, who sighs.

Thus it is that, when Theobolus rides into town, what meets him is a completely deserted street. He turns to his second-in-command, the plug-ugly we saw earlier, and grins evilly. "Told ya she'd back down without a fight," he says.

"Wrong." Xena's voice rings through the square. "I told you to stay away from this place, Theobolus."

Theobolus peers around for her. "Come on, old friend, let's just talk this over."

"All right, old friend," Xena says patiently. "I tell you to leave--you leave. Talk over."

Theobolus, with a sudden growl, spurs his horse into the square. His men follow, drawing swords and brandishing torches.

One of the warriors suddenly loses a sword and stares in befuddlement at his empty hand. Cut to a shot of Joxer, grinning as he reels in a lasso with a sword caught in its coils.

The warriors wheel their horses, shouting, as one by one their weapons disappear, lassoed and zipped upwards. They look up to see the upper-story windows filled with jeering townspeople.

"Right," Theobolus intones. "All right, men, burn 'em out!"

The warriors go to apply their torches to the houses and shops in the square, only to be greeted by showers of water that put them all out. Spluttering, they regroup.

"Xena," Theobolus calls. "Let's make a deal."

"No deal," she shouts implacably.

"Where are you? I can't see you!"

"Didn't think there was much reason for me to show," she says.

Theobolus looks around as a lone figure steps into the street. Miriam walks with a deliberate courage toward the group of semi-armed and angry men.

"She told you to leave," Miriam says. "So leave."

"Well, well," says Theobolus, leaning over the pommel and drawing a huge club. "Seems like we have ourselves a hostage, boys."

Miriam grins. "Just say no."

Theobolus spurs his horse, heading for Miriam. As he approaches, he is suddenly propelled out of his saddle. In a trice, he's swinging from a lasso that pins his arms to his sides.

"Let me go!" he bellows.

"You didn't know that this town was home to the best horse-herders in the country, did you?" Miriam asks.

"Get her, men!" Theobolus shouts.

In a moment, the men are pelting after Miriam, who pales, turns, and runs down an alley. They round the corner and encounter a group of very angry, very adept townspeople who lasso them off their horses one by one.

As his men are marched past him in a group, Theobolus fights in the lasso. Miriam walks up to him and turns him around so that he's facing the porch of the tavern. Xena sits in a chair. "All right, Theobolus," she says, toying with her chakram. "This is the offer. Freedom for you and your men, as long as you never approach this town again."

"There's a lovely valley two days' ride north," Miriam offers. "It would make a good home for you and your men, as long as you're willing to work the fields."

He lunges at her ineffectively. "You'll move on some time," he says. "They'll drop their guard."

"Guess I've got no choice, then," Xena says, looking at the chakram with sorrowful anticipation.

"That's not fair!" Theobolus shouts. "I can't get away!"

"These people aren't going anywhere, either," Xena says.

"Er... maybe I can help," Miriam says, pulling a scroll out of her sleeve. "I just happen to have here a treaty of non-interference. Theobolus and his men to withdraw their claim to this town, and the townspeople to provide services in horse care and construction for the new town in that lovely valley I believe I mentioned."

"You want me to go straight?" Theobolus howls.

"There are worse things," Xena says softly.

Cut to Xena, mounted on Argo, with Joxer and Miriam flanking her. Miriam is trying desperately to write on a scroll as she walks.

"And all without a shot being fired," Joxer says in admiration.

"We'll have to see how Theobolus and his men do with the new town in the valley," Xena says. "I have a feeling he's not gonna like the concept of the plow."

"Slow down," Miriam mutters. "No, wait, that doesn't scan... Because it's important, that's why... don't give me that guff about 'artistic license'..."

Joxer stares around Argo's neck at Miriam. "Does she do that often?"

"I'm getting used to it," Xena says, with a private little smile.

Part 3

Xena leads Argo down a nondescript road, with trees overgrowing the way. Behind her, Miriam rolls up a scroll and fits it carefully into a leather case.

"We're on our way to a complete set for Daniel," Miriam says happily.

"You really think anyone will be interested in that?" Xena asks, looking around for danger.

"I think stories about you will be the most requested tales in taverns for a thousand years," Miriam replies, with certainty. "We have to get copies to every bard in the world."

Xena looks away with an appropriately skeptical expression. A moment later, she's in full alert mode. Miriam is beginning to snap to with a bit more speed than she's shown up to now; she whips her staff up to a defensive posture.

The woods explode with hollering soldiers; Xena whirls and sends one of them into the bushes with a world-class kick. Miriam spins the staff and whacks one of the soldiers in the ribs. His fellow closes in with menace; Miriam backs up slowly.

Xena is dealing with three soldiers, who are engaging her with skill and planning. She spares enough breath to yell some strategy points: "Watch your back!"

Miriam, terrified, doesn't give any indication that she's heard. She tries to block sword thrusts from the soldier, and for a while she's successful. Eventually, he gets beyond her guard, and his sword smacks broadside, with great force, against her head. Miriam drops like a sack of potatoes.

Xena, occupied with the two soldiers who are still standing, looks up: her face grows darkly homicidal, and she reaches for her chakram.

The soldier is just about to smite Miriam mightily when the chakram thuds into the back of his armor. His arms head for the sky and he falls sideways.

Xena makes short work of the two remaining soldiers and runs to Miriam. She touches her cheek cautiously; Miriam doesn't react at all.


Xena turns away, exhausted, from a bed in which Miriam lies, as if in state. Xena growls through her teeth, "Will she be all right?"

Beside the bed, a middle-aged woman in a colorful robe shrugs.

"That's not very reassuring," Xena snarls.

"What do you want, a guarantee?" the woman snaps back, with an accent. "There are none."

"And you call yourself a healer," the warrior mutters.

"The damage is very great," the woman says, subdued. "It is not easy to recover from such a wound."

"But can she?" Xena asks with an edge.

The woman looks up, dark eyes flashing. "It is not up to me," she says simply.

Xena clenches a fist and her jaw, looking away.


A distant voice whispers, "Miriam..."

On the bed, Miriam stirs, frowns.

"Miriam..." the voice repeats. It's familiar, but we haven't heard it in a while.

Miriam opens her eyes and sits up, slowly. Behind her, the body in the bed is transparent. She turns her head slowly and stares at the body, with an expression of confusion that wouldn't be out of place on the face of a little girl.

"Miriam," the voice says.

Miriam turns her head. On her face, a smile ghosts into being, then grows. "Is that... you?" Miriam asks, hope and wonder in her voice.

"Get up," the voice says, the gentleness at odds with the imperiousness of the command.

"I've never seen you," Miriam says, settling into the covers.

"You have to get up," the voice says severely.

Miriam, befuddled, sits up and, after a moment, stands and looks around. She is obviously stunned; the surroundings are half-realized, and she's the only thing that seems substantial.

"Come with me," the voice says.

Out of the frame, a hand stretches out. Miriam stares at it for a moment, then makes a decision and reaches out.


Miriam sails through empty air, holding onto a hand. The expression of delight on her face is childlike. Stars and the occasional meteor flash by.

"Beautiful," Miriam murmurs, lost in wonder.

She comes to a light landing in a moonlit clearing and turns to look at her guide. Tears fill her eyes.

"Gabrielle," she says softly.

A reverse angle shows us our heroine, dressed in a simple white shift that leaves her midriff bare. Her hair waves slightly in a gentle breeze. A lovely smile breaks over her face, and she reaches for Miriam's hands.

"Thank you," Gabrielle murmurs. "Thank you for taking care of Xena."

Miriam shrugs, embarrassed. "I don't think I've done a very good job of that..."

Gabrielle shakes her hands gently, still smiling. "Of course you have. I've left her in good hands."

Miriam considers this a very good time to change the subject. "What are we doing here?" she asks hastily.

"Waiting," Gabrielle says. She turns and faces away from Miriam. Miriam studies her for a moment, thinking of all the things she wants to know, then she turns so that they're standing side by side. The light angles off their faces: dark and light, ethereal and earthy, unreal and solid.

For a moment, they don't speak. Then Miriam says, "I have to tell you, I haven't really taken care of her like you think I have..."

Gabrielle lifts an eyebrow and doesn't look at Miriam.

"She's all broken up," Miriam says in a low voice. "She doesn't want to live without you. And she's so close... but I get in the way."

"No," Gabrielle says, turning her head to look at Miriam. "Don't think that way. You've been sustenance to her, in a way you'll never know."

Miriam thinks it over, then nods with gratitude, then turns to face east.

They wait for a few moments. Around them, the half-real landscape starts to solidify. In the middle of the landscape, a movement begins. First, it is amorphous; then, it resolves itself into a square that moves ponderously back and forth. The square moves rapidly, with a rocking motion, toward the camera. As Gabrielle watches with patience, and Miriam with astonishment, the square turns into a little cottage. A few moments later, and we can see that the cottage has chicken feet.

Miriam claps her hands and laughs with delight. Gabrielle glances at her with a very Xena-like expression of bemusement.

The chicken-footed hut comes to a stop in front of the two of them, wriggling like a puppy. In great excitement, Miriam turns to Gabrielle; the woman in white smiles at Miriam and reaches for the door.

The two of them walk through the doorway, finding themselves in a room that appears to have been decorated by a higher intelligence with locally-available materials. Gabrielle waits like an archangel at attention, while Miriam goes through the room with a lively curiosity.

Miriam skirts a bundle of clothing, remembering what happened the last time she tried to sit on one. As she sidles back, she bumps into someone and turns with a startled gasp.

The angle reverses and Miriam looks into the face of Baba Yaga.

"Hello," Miriam says, subdued.

"Came to visit again, did you? And this time you've brought a friend," the crone says, turning to Gabrielle. "Lovely."

"Gabrielle, this is Baba Yaga," Miriam says formally.

Baba Yaga gives Gabrielle an assessing look. "You're looking well," she says. "Ectoplasm agrees with you."

"Thank you for taking care of Xena," Gabrielle says, holding out a hand. Baba Yaga looks at her hand for a moment, amused, then tries to take it. Gabrielle's hand passes right through hers; after a moment, Gabrielle withdraws it, with a little frown.

"I bet you'd like your own body back," Baba Yaga comments.

Miriam takes a breath, and the crone fixes her with a glare. "In time, little one, in time. You've got a lot to do, yet."

Deflated, Miriam sinks onto a three-legged stool and clasps her hands between her knees.

"And you'll only delay things if you keep going around getting your head bashed in," Baba Yaga says sternly. "Didn't she tell you not to drop your guard?"

Miriam tries to figure this out.

"You don't remember what happened, do you?" Gabrielle asks softly, moving closer.

"No..." Miriam says, trying to think.

"You were attacked on the road. Some thug caught you upside the head with the flat of his sword." Baba Yaga shakes her head. "Clumsy."

"If you wanted someone who could write and fight, you should have looked a little harder," Miriam says in a low voice, not looking at the crone.

"Grave as a turnip," Baba Yaga says disapprovingly. "Oh, now, don't go all serious on me. Warriors aren't known for their penmanship. I knew what I was doing."

Gabrielle places a spectral hand on Miriam's shoulder (it stays) and addresses Baba Yaga. "What, exactly, were you doing?" Miriam looks up in surprise.

Baba Yaga's face grows serious as she looks from one to the other. "The stories. I want the stories."

Miriam and Gabrielle exchange baffled glances.

"Let's not be dense," Baba Yaga says to Gabrielle, crossing her arms over her considerable bosom. "Those stories have got to get finished. If you hadn't been idiot enough to get yourself killed, I'd have had them by now."

"Why?" Gabrielle asks simply.

"That's my own affair. Mine, and a bunch of people you haven't met, and never will. Not that there's anything you can do about it now."

"Is Ares behind this?" Gabrielle asks.

To their surprise, Baba Yaga bursts into laughter. "That overfed, whiny, glass-gazing, musclebound, selfish little excuse for a divinity? He hasn't got the brains the gods gave a raindrop!" She sighs, shaking her head. "But he sure is a well-made brainless fop, isn't he? If I weren't so scrupulous about the arts of enchantment, I'd whirl him away for a fortnight and test his skill at something other than war. No, he's not the boss."

"Then who is?" Miriam asks.

"Well, it's not me, if that's what you're thinking," Baba Yaga says unexpectedly. "I'm merely a subcontractor on this job."

Miriam starts to ask a question; Baba Yaga holds up a hand. Defeated, Miriam drops back onto the stool.

"That's not important right now," Baba Yaga says firmly. "You have to get those stories done and delivered to Daniel. And because you zigged when you should have zagged, we have a bit of a problem." She looks up speculatively at Miriam. "You're cut loose from your body. It will probably take some time for you to get back."

"'Cut loose'?" Miriam asks.

Baba Yaga nods at Gabrielle. "And that was really rather careless of you. I'm running out of spare bodies, ladies."

"You mean... I'm hurt badly enough that I can't... recover the use of my body?"

Baba Yaga winks at Gabrielle. "Swift, isn't she? Don't fret, little one. It's not permanent."

"How did it happen?" Miriam asks, looking at her hands.

"How the hell should I know? You want a medical explanation, go hunt up Aesclepius. But we've got to do something, and fast. Your body won't do well if someone's not in there taking care of it. Fortunately, you have an option most other people in your situation don't."

Miriam closes her eyes in despair. Gabrielle shoots a glance at Baba Yaga.

"I know, I know," Baba Yaga says soothingly. "You'd sooner die. But just look at her! Now, there's a woman who knows how to treat a body. You'll probably end up in the best shape you've ever been in. Think of how wonderful you'll look. New clothes. Women throwing themselves at your feet. Dozens of admirers bringing you dozens of roses and laughing at your feeble jokes. That sort of thing."

Gabrielle kneels in front of Miriam and takes her hands. "Listen to me." Miriam shakes her head and turns away. "Please." Miriam looks at her reluctantly. "I promise I'll take care of you. You've taken care of me--and Xena. I won't let you down."

"What about when I want back in?"

"Just as soon as you can."

Miriam looks her straight in the eye and asks steadily, "And what happens when she finds out you're there... and I'm gone?"

This takes Gabrielle off guard. She struggles to find an answer.

The tension breaks when Baba Yaga snorts with laughter. "Oh, like you're going to turn that down! Have you taken a good look at your warrior princess lately? I can think of much worse fates."

Miriam loses her temper and shoots to her feet. "This is what she's been waiting for! This is her chance to get Gabrielle back! She doesn't give a damn about me, or you, or the stories. She'll accept a different... body... if she has to... but she'll fight to keep it, as long as Gabrielle's there. And where does that leave me?"

Baba Yaga describes a little circle with her finger. "Orbiting. Like an electron."

Gabrielle gets to her feet with a weariness that is entirely unphysical. "She's right. I know how lonely Xena's been. It'll certainly be a temptation, if nothing else."

"Then," Baba Yaga says, implacable in her lack of sympathy, "I have a suggestion. Keep it from happening."

Gabrielle hesitates. "I don't know that I can," she whispers.

Miriam puts a hand to her forehead.

Baba Yaga sighs with disapproval. "I don't think hormones were Aphrodite's best idea ever. Well, then. How about this? Tell her you have a headache."

But Miriam and Gabrielle aren't listening; they're looking at one another, trying to reach a decision.

Gabrielle hesitates a moment before speaking. "I can see what it's done to her to lose... to lose me... but I don't know what will happen if she... loses... both of us."

Miriam can't keep her eyes on Gabrielle's face. Her gaze drops; after a moment, she nods.


Fade in on the bed, Miriam lying in a deep sleep. It's late at night and odd shadows move in the guttering firelight.

Miriam's disembodied voice whispers sourly, "She looks so natural."

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you," Gabrielle whispers back.

"That's what I'm afraid of. Go easy on the calisthenics, will you?"

A shadow ripples over the top of the bed; it almost looks like a body settling over Miriam's form. There's a slight twisting motion, almost impossible to see, and then a breathless, still moment.

Miriam opens her eyes.

She takes a deep breath, puts her hands over her eyes for a moment, then pulls them away. She looks at the color and shape of her hands and smiles with delight, turning them this way and that. 

She heaves the bedcovers off and springs lightly to her feet. This proves to be not the best idea she's ever had, and a wave of dizziness makes her sit abruptly, her face sobering. She decides to be more careful and stands again, more slowly.

The camera tracks her as she crosses the room to where Xena sits in a chair, profoundly asleep. Miriam reaches out a tentative hand and touches her shoulder.

Xena jerks awake, a momentarily unsettled gaze coming to rest on Miriam's face. Her concern is entirely theoretical. She starts to get up, but Miriam places a hand on her shoulder and keeps her in the chair.

"Xena," she says, with an inflection that is entirely Gabrielle's, "we need to talk."

Cut to the two of them leaving the inn. Xena finishes settling a saddlebag over Argo's back and gives the strap one last tug. She turns with a quiet excitement and reaches for Miriam's hand.

"What's this?"

"You're riding."

"Xena..." Miriam smiles with intimate indulgence, and her shoulders shrug in a very Gabrielle-like gesture. "Have you forgotten that Argo hates me?"

"No, she doesn't. She's never had any trouble with you."

"Her, you mean?"

"Whatever," Xena says, taking her hand and leading her over to mount Argo. Xena crouches and makes a cup of her hands for Miriam to step into.

"This isn't necessary. I can walk."

"No, no, you've been sick. It's better to ride. She won't mind."

Miriam smiles at Xena over the tops of her lashes and sets her foot into the impromptu stirrup. Xena lifts her into the saddle with a practiced gesture, her face reacting with surprise at how well it goes.

Xena takes Argo's bridle and starts off down the road, turning to give her returned lover a brilliant smile that holds all the hope and promise of a world reborn.


And in the meantime, there's the real Miriam, moving through a world of transparency and shadow as she keeps up half-heartedly with what looks for all the world like a honeymoon journey. She kicks at a half-realized weed in the road, which doesn't take the slightest notice of her attempt to mow it, then sticks her hands in her pockets and saunters, whistling.

"They look happy," a woman's voice comments beside her.

Surprised, Miriam looks down; Baba Yaga is plodding along next to her. She stops and grabs the older woman by the shoulders, smiling. "Baba Yaga! It's good to see you."

"I told you I'd be by to keep an eye on things. So how's the ectoplasm? Not too cold?"

"Perfectly comfortable, thanks. As a matter of fact, it's so comfortable that I can't even feel it. Should I be worried about that?"

"No, it's just a switch from having a physical body to running around in just your spirit. Wait till you find out what that can do! I think you'll be pleased."

"Well, like what?" Miriam sees Xena and Gabrielle (in her body, thank you very much) disappearing around the bend and starts walking again, glancing apprehensively back at Baba Yaga.

"For one thing, there's no need to spend every blessed moment shuffling your feet, or what would be your feet, if you had any." Baba Yaga puts her hands on her hips and stops in the middle of the road.

"Sorry... I just don't want them to get so far ahead that I can't find them."

Baba Yaga laughs. "All right," she says merrily, "first lesson. Take my hand."

"I thought I didn't have any," Miriam responds, reacting giddily.

"Don't contradict your elders, youngling. I said take my hand."

Miriam walks back to her and reaches for her hand cautiously; to her surprise, she can indeed pick it up.

"Now drop the ground."

Miriam stares at her.

"Go on," Baba Yaga says, flapping with her free hand.

Miriam looks down, a bit nonplused, then comes up with an idea and quirks her head.

They are suddenly fifty feet in the air, which would have left Miriam breathless if she had had any breath, and are hovering like balloons. A gleeful smiles breaks out over Miriam's face and she turns to Baba Yaga.

"Thank you," she says.

"I hope you know it's not just up and down," Baba Yaga comments. "It's also back and forth."

"Can we find Xena and Gabrielle?"

"G'head," Baba Yaga says, as if she's not really very interested.

They begin to move forward, slowly, and soon Miriam leans into the wind (although it's having no effect on her whatsoever), picking up speed as the landscape flashes by. They catch sight of the two humans and the horse, toiling along the path, and zip past them to tumble in the ether above a clearing.

The angle changes to show Xena, Gabrielle, and Argo entering the clearing, the effort of moving their physical bodies apparent in contrast to the ease of the flyers. Far above them, Miriam and Baba Yaga play torpedo bomber in the air, holding hands and zooming back and forth above the oblivious Xena and the fascinated Gabrielle. Miriam sails overhead, lets go of Baba Yaga's hand, and spins in the air with a "Woo-hoo-hoo!" of triumph that makes Gabrielle laugh.

Xena looks back with a puzzled smile; Gabrielle, laughing from inside Miriam's skin, points up. Xena follows her finger, but can't see what she's reacting to. After a moment, she just drinks in the sight of Gabrielle, then turns and leads Argo along the path.

Fade in on a clearing in the woods, late at night. In the glow from the fire, Argo, saddleless, crops grass quietly as Xena and Gabrielle sit on their leather blanket, quietly talking, big grins on their faces. A little bit away, Miriam sits on a rock, barely visible, her chin on her fist, gazing away from the two.

Xena and Gabrielle are playing some kind of amorphous game with a handful of pebbles; Xena tries to snatch them out of Gabrielle's hand, and Gabrielle makes a show of keeping them away from her. She turns to conceal the pebbles from Xena, who catches her hand. The two of them freeze for a moment, then Xena raises Gabrielle's hand to her lips, gazing quietly past the unfamiliar eyes into the familiar soul.

After a moment, Gabrielle gently takes Miriam's hand away. Xena tries to conceal the hurt in her eyes, then turns slightly to stretch and lie down as if the rejection doesn't matter. Gabrielle casts about for something to say, then decides there's no way to say it and lies down next to, but not touching, the warrior. The camera tracks past them to Miriam, who sighs and rubs her face with her hand, keeping watch out into the dark night.


Later that night, Argo is dozing under a blanket and Xena and Gabrielle are sleeping quietly, turned away from one another. Miriam sits on her rock, thinking bitter thoughts. A twig snaps somewhere out in the darkness and Miriam raises her head. Stealthily, although there's no reason to be, she slides off the rock and makes her way cautiously into the darkness.

As she rounds an aggressively flowering bush, she spots a man holding a knife, looking through the gloom at the little group of humans and horse, illuminated in what's left of the firelight. He grips his knife and prepares to sneak out into the clearing. Miriam shoots out an arm, and instantly the thief is dangling several feet off the ground, terrified.

"You picked the wrong place to be and the wrong time to be here," Miriam growls, tightening her grip. The man's eyes bulge out of his head and he squeaks in fear. "And I'm just in the mood to use your head as a kickball."

"Miriam," says a voice in the darkness. "Leave him alone."

Miriam turns her head to see her own face a few feet away. Gabrielle stands in a long nightshift, hands clutching a shawl around her shoulders. On her face, blue-shadowed in the moonlight, is a grim determination.

"He was going to--"

"I don't care. Let him go."

"Please," the thief murmurs, in terror. "Call off your genie and you'll never see me again."

"See that we don't," Gabrielle says shortly. She turns to Miriam and gives her an imperative expression.

Xena, half in her armor and half out, slides to a breathless stop behind Gabrielle, sword in hand, staring in bafflement at the man hanging some feet off the ground.

Miriam lowers the thief slowly to the ground. The instant his feet touch the turf, he is scrabbling away like a rabbit, lost to sight in a moment.

"Gabrielle," Xena begins uncertainly.

"Just a moment, Xena," Gabrielle says, not taking her eyes from the vengeful fury standing beside the absurdly beautiful shrubbery. "You can't do this," she says carefully to Miriam. "You can hurt people, more easily than you think."

"That's exactly what I had in mind," Miriam snaps between clenched teeth.

"But not because of anything he had done," Gabrielle says reasonably. "That's not fair."

"Where is she?" Xena asks in a murmur.

"Here, by this... hydrangea," Miriam says. It's obvious that Xena can't hear a word she's saying.

"Miriam," Gabrielle says. "I want you to promise me you won't do this again."

Miriam's jaw sets. "Then you want too much from me," she replies.

"Even the gods don't vent their anger on the innocent, Miriam. That's the wisdom they've learned."

"He was hardly an 'innocent', Gabrielle. He could have cut your throats as you slept."

"Not with you looking out for us," Gabrielle says. She draws nearer to Miriam, who reacts to the sight of her own face coming closer by turning away in pain. Gabrielle puts out a hand and lays it gently on Miriam's arm. "There's no reason to use a permanent solution on a temporary problem."

Miriam thinks it over, still not turning toward Gabrielle. In a nervous, helpless gesture, Xena whips up the sword and goes into a defensive posture.

"All right," Miriam sighs, and Gabrielle, in her body, relaxes visibly. "I promise. But you just don't want me to have any fun, do you?"

The attempt at a tiny joke makes Gabrielle smile. "So go flying."

For a moment, they share the memory of the incredible adventure Miriam had that afternoon, and Gabrielle's joy in watching. Miriam smiles back at her, nods, and gestures toward Xena. "You ought to get your sleep."

Gabrielle steps back and takes Xena's arm, turning to smile up into her face. "It's all right. Let's go back to bed. You don't have to worry about a thing. She'll be watching over us tonight."

The two of them walk back to the blanket arm in arm, as Miriam sighs, turns, and follows, settling back onto her rock.


Xena has tried to be good, but as she watches the river water fly in sparkling droplets from Gabrielle's hair as she shakes her head, the longing becomes almost too much and settles as a visible hunger in her face.

Gabrielle turns, wringing the water out of her hair, as the water runs in shiny rivulets down her skin. She spots Xena's look and her face softens as she plows her way gracefully through the water. Xena looks away, studying something terribly important along the horizon, squinting into the sun, as Gabrielle comes up onto the bank and begins to dress. She pulls Miriam's shirt over her head and steps into her pants, then sits on a flat rock and begins combing her hair.

Beside Xena, the shadow of the spirit Miriam stands, watching the same spot Xena is watching. "She wears it a hell of a lot better than I ever did," Miriam mutters, holding up a hand to touch Xena's shoulder, then dropping it as she realizes it won't work.

Xena gives no sign of having heard. The two of them stand there, sentinels on post, unwilling to look at the woman who has captured Miriam's body and Xena's soul.

Gabrielle begins to hum in a rich, melodious voice as she combs her hair. Startled, Xena turns.

"I didn't know you could sing," Xena says, unbending far enough to take a few steps toward the rock.

"I never had a voice like this to do it with before," Gabrielle answers.

"A lot of your poetry would go well set to music," Miriam comments, not looking at the two of them.

"Maybe we'll try that."

"Try what?" Xena asks, sitting cautiously next to Gabrielle.

"Singing some of the stories," Gabrielle says.

Xena looks at her, the hunger flaring up in her expression again. She damps it down and glances away. "So what's it like?"

"What?" Gabrielle asks, tying her hair back.

"This--" Xena gestures toward her without looking, her wrist guards catching the light.

"This body?" Gabrielle asks softly. Xena nods, still not facing her. A very Gabrielle look of thoughtfulness comes into the face that isn't hers. "Soft. Easy." She thinks a moment more. "It's so easy to write with these hands; they really know what they're doing..." She gazes down at them for a moment, lost in contemplation. "A singer's voice. And a singer's mind. The rhymes just tumble out of it. And she's such a beautiful color!"

"Color?" Xena laughs.

"Isn't she?"

"Gabrielle," Xena says sternly, "I don't think it's a good idea for me to express an opinion on that one way or the other."

Miriam sighs, looks up, raises her hands, and vanishes into the air.

"And there's so much here to draw on; she's read everything, and she remembers it... Even the music is so easy to make..."

"She never sang around me," Xena says stiffly, still not looking at Gabrielle. "I suppose I'm not very... welcoming..."

Gabrielle shakes her head, annoyed. "Honestly, Xena, do you have to make every woman in the world fall in love with you?"

Xena snaps her head around, the shock apparent in her eyes. She scrambles up and takes a step back. "Gabrielle, I didn't--"

"Hush," Gabrielle soothes her, coming off the rock fluidly to put a tender hand against her lips. "This isn't easy for any of us. Blaming yourself won't--"

But Xena just can't endure any more, and she seizes Gabrielle's hand and presses it to her lips, closing her eyes tight against the pain. Before she can think about what she's doing, Gabrielle sways closer and takes Xena's head in her arm, pulling her down toward her breasts.

"It's been so long--" Xena gasps, burying her lips in Gabrielle's neck.

"I know, my love, I know," Gabrielle murmurs back, pulling her closer and closing her eyes.

A psychic thump makes her open her eyes again. Miriam is standing behind Xena, fists clenched, clearly furious. "All right, lovebird," she hisses, "do that on your own time and with your own body."

Gabrielle disengages herself with difficulty from the passionate Xena. "Xena," she says in a low voice, "we're not alone."

"You should have remembered that before you turned washing your hair into a spectator sport," Miriam says bitterly.

Xena won't let go of Gabrielle; she holds her firmly as she looks around for Miriam. Gabrielle rests her hands lightly on Xena's forearms and looks at Miriam. "Miriam--please, for the gods' sake! Have a heart!" she pleads.

"I do. You're in charge of it at the moment. That is my body and I have not given you permission to--"

"Miriam," Xena interjects in her best command-imperative mode. "We have got to talk about this."

"With your girlfriend doing the interpreting in my voice, no doubt," Miriam says with exquisite sarcasm. "Get away from her before I see what else I can make my ectoplasm do."

"She's not going for it," Gabrielle says, trying to get out of Xena's arms. After a brief struggle, Gabrielle frees herself; Xena, exhausted, walks over to the rock again and flops down on it.

After a moment, Gabrielle sits next to her, shooting Miriam a defiant look. Miriam, defeated, sits at Xena's other side.

Xena puts her elbows on her knees and buries her face in her hand. Gabrielle and Miriam exchange very different expressions with identical faces. Gabrielle puts an arm around Xena; Miriam sighs hugely and puts her chin in her hand.

"This is gonna tear us apart, isn't it?" Miriam says conversationally.

"It could," Gabrielle agrees just as neutrally.

A short silence precedes Miriam's next question. "I don't suppose there's any way I could get the two of you to just... stay away from one another?"

The tears start in Gabrielle's eyes, and she has to swallow past them to speak. "I could leave," she whispers.

"No!" Xena cries, looking wildly at Gabrielle. "Don't say that! Please--it would--it would kill me to lose you again--"

"Calm down, both of you," Miriam says, putting her fingers to her eyes. "This is really disturbing." She opens her eyes and runs her hand along her chin. "Let me think..."

"Wait," Gabrielle says to Xena, kissing her gently on the lips.

Miriam stands and begins pacing in front of them. Gabrielle follows her with her eyes; Xena tries to keep up, but she's looking at leaves swaying on tree branches and sunlight sparkling on water.

"One. I could leave for a while. Say, a night. Or during the night. I could try to leave the two of you alone. But, then, you see, every second I leave you in there, you're more tempted not to give back my body when you're done with it."

"That's not--"

Miriam whirls to face her. "Even if you spend the night in her arms? How much would it take? One kiss? Two? Before you started figuring out ways to get me out of the picture?"

Gabrielle is thunderstruck. "I hadn't thought of that." She raises her eyes to Miriam's. 

"No, there's pretty much only just the one of us who's been thinking lately," Miriam says wryly.

"And I can't deny it," Gabrielle says.

"Thank you for being honest," Miriam says, resuming her pacing. "Two, I could go back to Baba Yaga and plead with her. Like she's done anything I wanted lately. Three, I could try to curl up somewhere out of the way... an elbow, a spleen. But three in a bed is always lonely for someone, and I have a feeling it's not gonna be either one of you."

Gabrielle is still following Miriam's pacing; Xena is watching nothing, baffled.

"Four. Sublimate. Get the stories done and maybe Baba Yaga will turn you loose. But then we're right back where we started; you with no body and no home, and me stuck with a woman who hates my guts."

"She does not--" Gabrielle tries to interrupt.

"Five. Try to get back into my body with you staying there, and try to connect you with Xena through me. Almost as lonely as option three, but I'm not looking forward to having to pour a bucket of cold water over the two of you every five minutes."

"Let's try it," Gabrielle says resolutely, standing up suddenly. Miriam stops pacing and turns to look at Gabrielle.

"Try what?" Xena asks.

"Come on. Let's see if we can do it." Gabrielle faces Miriam squarely, hands down at her sides, a brave and stubborn expression on her face.

This is the last thing Miriam expected to hear. "You mean it?"

"Miriam... this is your body. Not mine. And..." Gabrielle's gaze falters as she looks down at Xena. "And I'm not sure how long I'll be able to remember that."

Xena and Gabrielle look at one another for a long time, trying to say without words what they've meant to one another. Xena reaches up and grips Gabrielle's hand, hard. When the look of pain on Xena's face becomes almost unbearable, Gabrielle closes her eyes.

Miriam takes a sudden step forward--

--and passes right through Gabrielle. Gabrielle's eyes snap open, and she turns to look at Miriam's back as her shoulders slump.

After a moment, Miriam turns around. "Well," she sighs, "it's not like flying over the treetops isn't wonderful..."

Gabrielle lowers her head. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, close to tears. Xena stands, moving cautiously closer to Gabrielle.

"Doesn't matter," Miriam says, trying to make light of her disappointment. "I guess I'm just not quite ready... or it's not quite ready... or Baba Yaga has some other errand, like I have to empty the garbage or something... but do me a favor, will you?"

"Anything," Gabrielle says firmly, as Xena puts a protective arm around her.

"Take it easy on that body, will you? I don't think it's used to anything quite like the two of you."

Gabrielle nods. Miriam gives her a little half-salute and rises upwards, disappearing into the sky. Gabrielle watches her go, then turns to Xena with a brave smile.

"It's only for a little while," Gabrielle says softly, reaching out a gentle hand to caress her lover's face. "And we have to remember that it's not just the two of us, not any more..."

"I promise," Xena says seriously, leaning forward to place her lips on Gabrielle's in a gentle kiss. The camera cranes away as the two of them move slowly into one another's arms.

Part 4

The camera tracks by a wall in an innyard. It passes windows; most are dark, but some are lit as the camera goes by. The soundtrack fades in and out on the noises the people inside are making. From one, lit with an eerie blue glow, rises the sounds of a prayer being chanted; from another, pitch-black, emerges a ferocious snore. The camera lingers on one lit window, from which the most profound silence issues; as we watch, there is the deep boom of a door slamming. A figure next to the window turns at the sound; in the spectral light, we see that it is Miriam.

Cut to the interior of the room, as Xena finishes latching the door and turns to look at the figure standing near her, which has a shawl over its head. The figure pulls the shawl away from its head; it's the same face as Miriam's, watching outside, but the soul inside belongs to Gabrielle. She moves to a table in the center of the room and begins removing bracelets as Xena watches silently.

"Tired?" Xena asks in a soft voice.

"Not so much. It's been a long day, though." Gabrielle takes the earrings out of ears that aren't hers and places them gently on the table, her hands shaking slightly.

Xena notices the trembling and speaks in the same soft, caressing tone. "Headache?"

"No, it's gone," Gabrielle says quickly. "She must be getting better."

Xena absorbs the implications of this: they don't have much time. She takes off her wrist guards and holds them in her hand, watching Gabrielle.

Gabrielle slips out of her shirt and Xena turns away, not watching. Shirtless, Gabrielle approaches her slowly, then reaches out with a hand for Xena's chin. She turns Xena's unwilling face toward hers.

"Love," Gabrielle whispers. "Don't turn away from me. Please."

Xena looks down at her and reaches out tentatively to touch her shoulder. "I don't mean to. Honestly. But I can't help thinking..."

Gabrielle hushes her with a gentle touch of her hand on Xena's lips. "Please, it's a gift. Hers. Please, accept it in the spirit in which she offers it."

"It's enough to be able to talk to you," Xena says, disproving the words by folding Gabrielle's hand gently in both her own and kissing it.

"Then let's talk," Gabrielle offers, disengaging her hand with a subtle gesture and leading the way to the bed. She sits on the bed, naked to the waist, the firelight running in soft, seductive curves over her breasts as she pats the covers next to her.

Xena's lip quirks upward as she looks at Gabrielle. With a sudden movement, she pushes away from the door she's been leaning against and approaches the bed, moving more slowly the closer she gets to it. She reaches up to unbuckle her armor; Gabrielle puts out a hand. "Let me," she says in a whisper.

Gabrielle unbuckles the armor and, as it's heavy, struggles a bit to pull it off the leather underneath. Xena smiles and helps, and soon they both are able to lay the armor on the bed beside them.

Xena reaches up a hand to run it along Gabrielle's cheek, studying her closely.

"What is it?" Gabrielle asks.

"Orpheus... and Euridice... out of the underworld..." Xena murmurs with distraction, watching the firelight play over Gabrielle's face.

"Don't think about that," Gabrielle replies, holding a hand up and placing it with infinite gentleness against Xena's cheek. Her tone becomes sardonic. "You know I can't play the harp."

The tension breaks with Xena's laugh. "No matter how hard I tried to teach you--"

"Never mind. With all you've taught me... eh, I can give up the harp," Gabrielle answers, looking deeply into Xena's eyes.

This has the opposite effect from what one might expect; Xena tumbles into lovesickness as quick as thought. "Oh," she breathes in the firelight, returning Gabrielle's enraptured gaze. "How I love you."

"And I love you," is Gabrielle's instant, fervent response. "Let me..."

The silence lengthens as the two of them touch each other's skin. Xena shakes herself into coherence and asks, "Let you what?"

"May I... may I prove it to you?"

Xena closes her eyes.

Gabrielle takes Xena's hand and urges her wordlessly to stand. As Xena gets to her feet, Gabrielle is working on the fastenings of Xena's leather tunic. Lovingly, with soft kisses and half-voiced exclamations, Gabrielle removes, layer by layer, Xena's armor against the outside world. Finally, Xena stands naked in front of her, the softness of her breasts and the invitation of her hips belying the tough warrior she is in the daylight.

Gabrielle, overcome, moves closer to clasp Xena in her arms, laying her head against her lover's breasts with a soul-satisfying contentment. Xena closes her eyes and gathers Gabrielle to her, the emotion overwhelming both of them.

"My turn," Xena says, in a voice grown suddenly untrustworthy.

With a soft, intimate kiss on Xena's breast, Gabrielle moves away, waiting. The pulse beats in her neck as Xena moves toward her. Slowly, softly, the warrior's hands become gentle as she undresses her lover.

Xena's breath hisses in her throat as she moves a hand down Gabrielle's hip. Gabrielle reaches out quickly to stop Xena's hand; she takes it and pulls her lover down on the bed, bending over her to kiss her deeply on the lips. Xena pulls Gabrielle's head toward her neck, staring into space as Gabrielle's mouth travels down her neck.

"Ohhh," Xena moans, as the two of them settle more deeply into the bed. "Oh, yes--" Her eyelids flutter as Gabrielle's lips move lower to nibble at Xena's breast. Gabrielle's hand moves up and cups Xena's breast as Xena's hips shift subtly.

"My love, my love," Gabrielle murmurs, moving to slide a thigh between Xena's. She takes Xena's nipple in her mouth, sucking, as Xena hisses and arches her back. Their hips settle into each other, Gabrielle moving to establish a rhythm that Xena follows blindly. Xena's hands twine convulsively in Gabrielle's hair, pulling her close as she clenches her eyes shut, her head moving back and forth, fierce sounds erupting from her throat.

"Yes, love," Gabrielle moans against the softness of Xena's breast. "Show me. Show me."

Xena clutches at Gabrielle's shoulders, trying to pull her into her body.

"Do you want it?" Gabrielle whispers. "Do you want me?"

"Yes," Xena gasps, grabbing for Gabrielle's free hand. Gabrielle takes Xena's hand, moving it downward, as Xena thrashes wildly against Gabrielle's hipbone. "Yes, my darling, please--"

Gabrielle moves her hand down, lower, lower, as Xena becomes more frantic. Xena pushes Gabrielle's hand against her body, willing her to enter; Gabrielle moves decisively and breaks through the last of her lover's resistance, plunging into her warmth and her welcome. "Yes, yes, yes," Xena breathes. "I love you, Gabrielle. I love you, my darling."

Gabrielle gasps, her hands caught in her lover's warm wetness. "You're so very beautiful, my love," she says, moving hard and fast, feeling the overwhelming connection to Xena, lying half-fainting with lust under her.

Xena's moans leave the realm of the physical and become a hymn to love as she moves with a passionate rhythm against Gabrielle's body. The feeling builds in both of them as they soar upward, upward, flying like falcons, and Xena feels her eyes open suddenly, looking with adoration into Gabrielle's eyes, waiting for her.

The two of them move without consciousness toward consummation, an eternity of effortless sensation. They crest the mountain and hold onto one another as, together, they leap into the open sky.

It seems like a long time later when Gabrielle opens her eyes to find herself lying across Xena's body, her hand still tangled in her lover, her breath still coming in huge gulps. She raises her head and looks into Xena's face, seeing the tears in her lover's eyes. "Oh," she says, contrite, "no, love, please don't cry..."

"Please forgive me," Xena says, breaking down into a flood of tears. "I love you so much. And I've missed you..."

"Shh, Xena, shh," Gabrielle says softly. "I've missed you too. Please... don't cry, my love... I'm here now..."

Gabrielle moves the hand that's still deep within her lover. This causes Xena to get control of herself. "Please, don't. Stay there, just for now."

"Of course," Gabrielle sighs, lying down on her lover's breast, feeling the strong arms envelop her. "I'll stay as long as you like..."

And so the two of them drift into a dreamless sleep, lying close to one another.


Miriam, standing outside, turns toward the window and regards it briefly, then moves off on her patrol. Keeping them safe.


This does not mean that she's in a good mood about it. Rounding the corner of the building, she strides along, muttering angry words that, if she were an Olympian, would result in three earthquakes, a half-dozen typhoons, and some mighty ferocious hangnails for some unlucky soul. As it is, she's storming so effectively that she doesn't see him until she almost runs right through him.

She stops and lifts a livid face to the God of War.

Ares looks her over; not hard to do, as she's all over ectoplasm. "You've lost weight," he says by way of greeting.

"Get away from here before I rip out your heart and feed it to the cat," she snarls.

"Not a truly effective threat," he answers, quirking an eyebrow and folding his muscular arms over his hairy chest. "See, I don't have one."

"Fine," she says, putting her hands on her hips. "There are always other organs I can target."

He laughs, not moving. "What's the matter, sweetheart? Not happy with the Lend-Lease Program?"

"Shut up. Better yet, leave the country. Better still, dissolve into non-existence." She begins to walk away from the building, and he skips to keep up with her.

"Hey, hey, don't be like that," he says, dancing around her furiously-striding form and trying to look into her face. "I thought we were friends."

"Another example of your all-encompassing intellect, no doubt." She makes her way rapidly out of the innyard. "Why can't you just go wherever it is you go and do whatever it is you do?"

He steps in front of her and throws his arms wide in a gesture of wounded innocence; she stops to avoid getting any closer to him. "Now, what did I do, Miriam? I'm not the one using your body as a nightgown to play hide-the-banana with a leather babe."

"I distinctly recall telling you to shut up," Miriam says decisively.

"Knowing she's up there... arms wrapped around your body... lips pressed against your lips... hands stroking your skin... and you down here in the courtyard in the cold, wait--"

She turns and silences him with a hand against his chest.

His eyebrow lifts again as he shifts his gaze from her hand to her face. "Ooh, things are lookin' up."

She's suddenly serious. "Ares... if that's who you are, which I doubt... there's not too much you could say to me right now that I haven't thought of over and over tonight." In the sudden silence, she takes her hand off his chest and rubs it against the leg of her pants, brushing off his aura. "So... I'd save my breath... that is, if you have any lungs to worry about..."

She turns away from him, making an effort to control herself. He approaches and places gentle hands on her shoulders; she shrugs him off, but he puts his hands on her again, gently, and the two of them stand there for a moment, looking out into the night as black as pitch, each busy with bitter thoughts.

"Then why?" he asks softly in her ear.

"Why?!" She turns on him, incredulous, then sees that he's serious and calms down. She looks into his eyes for the first time, seeking something, and nods after a moment. "It's true," she says reflectively. "You don't have a heart."

"Kind of a liability in a God of War, wouldn't you think?" he says with casual bitterness.

She puts a spirit hand on his arm. "Ares... she's damaged goods. She'll never come back to you. Someone else has a much more powerful claim on her, body and soul. This life, and the next, and the next, stretching out to the omega of time itself. Can't you just let her go?"

Ares looks away from her beseeching expression. "Is that why you agreed to the... body swap?"

Miriam shakes her head and folds her arms as if she's cold. "War isn't the only thing worth perfecting." She looks up into his eyes again. "Or don't you believe that?"

He casts about for a reply, but for once, he's speechless. He looks down at her, his mouth working for a moment.

"I want you to tell me something," Miriam says unexpectedly, "and I don't want any horsing around out of you."

Despite himself, he smiles. "What's that?"

"Is there any way for me to get really, really drunk?"

He throws back his head in laughter and takes her hand, and the two of them shoot into the night air.


At just about that same time, Xena is drinking Gabrielle's soul from another woman's body. The firelight is a soft visual counterpart to their gentle sounds and urgent touches. Beads of moisture run down their bellies and their backs, leaving delicate traceries in their skin. They can't take their eyes off one another, except for times when the emotion becomes too overwhelming. Xena looks up across the expanse of Gabrielle's body to her face, and Gabrielle presses Xena's head closer to her body with one hand, caressing the strong, moving shoulder of her lover with the other. Although it's difficult, she keeps her eyes on her lover as her Xena guides the two of them into a place where time and space mean nothing.


When Gabrielle has time to catch her breath, Xena brings her some clear, cool water in a little ceramic cup. "Drink, my love," Xena whispers, sliding an arm under Gabrielle's sweat-soaked body. Gabrielle takes a mouthful, then reaches up with a languid arm and pulls Xena close for a kiss, feeding her some water.

Xena holds the cup to Gabrielle's lips again, then sets it at the side of the table. She moves smoothly into the bed to hold her lover, who burrows down into her breasts and sighs with complete satisfaction.

"Do you know how much I love you?" Gabrielle murmurs sleepily into Xena's chest.

The firelight flickers golden and crimson over their skin as Xena brushes a strand of hair away from Gabrielle's face, kissing her. "I think the whole inn knows how much you love me," she answers wryly.

Gabrielle looks up at her, concerned. Both of them figure it out at the same time. "Singer's voice," they say in unison, nodding.

Xena toys with a strand of Gabrielle's hair as Gabrielle folds her hands under her chin. "I'm sorry," she says in a small voice.

"I'm not," Xena says, running her hands through Gabrielle's hair and kissing her again. "This'll do wonders for my reputation."

Gabrielle laughs, waking up a little. "Like your reputation needs any help."

"My soul, then," Xena answers, placing a kiss on the part of Gabrielle's forehead she can reach with the way they're tangled up. Gabrielle reaches up to turn Xena's head with her hand, pulling her mouth closer, and the two of them feel their emotion heading for high tide again.

Gabrielle breaks the kiss and sighs, looking deep into her lover's eyes. "This night has been magic," she whispers.

"It's not over," Xena whispers back, reaching for her again. "It'll never be over."


Miriam is pretending to snooze on a bench outside the inn, one foot propped up on a water barrel and the other trailing in the dust. It's full daylight, and a woman walks by leading a horse. Miriam tries ineffectually to shy the horse, but it ignores her and plods on, following the human who holds its bridle. She thinks better of her base impulse and looks around idly for something to do. It's obviously been a long, long night, made longer by her untiring spirit form and her ability to see through walls.

Gabrielle walks out of a doorway in Miriam's body. Miriam leaps to her feet and approaches her, questioning her wordlessly.

Gabrielle can't meet her eyes. "Thank you," she murmurs, subdued.

"Gabrielle..." Miriam begins, "I wasn't watching..."

"No," Gabrielle agrees readily, turning away for a moment. "You were out here. Protecting us."

"I didn't want anything to disturb you--"

"It didn't," Gabrielle says shortly.

Miriam is imagining disasters involving breakups, deception, accusation, indifference. "For the gods's sakes, Gabrielle, was everything all right?"

Gabrielle raises her head proudly and looks into the face that is a mirror of her own. "It was perfect." She moistens her lips. "Thank you. There's no way to thank you. Except one. Let me give you yourself back."

Miriam frowns, astounded. "That good, huh?"

Gabrielle puts a hand on her arm. "Please."

Miriam tries to figure this out. "Have you told her?"

Gabrielle, close to tears, tries to speak and ends up shaking her head. The woman with the horse walks by again sans horse, giving Gabrielle a curious look; she looks away as Miriam searches her face. She turns away and begins walking out of the innyard.

Miriam sighs and follows her. "You can't just... vanish like that. No