ForevaXena's FanFic . . .

Gabrielle Crusoe

by Daniel Stevens

DISCLAIMER:  The more familiar characters in this story are property of Renaissance Pictures, Universal Studios, and Studios USA.  No copyright infringement is intended.

SYNOPSIS:  Call this the ultimate Third-Season Rift NON-Resolution Story.  The title alone should give some idea as to why.

Once again, Gabrielle awakens in the middle of the night, in a cold sweat.  Always, it is the same nightmare.   It always starts with being raped by Dahak, continues with Hope's birth, Solan's murder - by Hope, and Xena blaming her for not having killed the demon-spawn when she had the chance.  The conclusion is always one of Xena finally finding her, and the Warrior's face twisted into a mask of hatred, powerful hands wrapping themselves about Gabrielle's throat and squeezing as hard as possible, even as Gabrielle pleads for forgiveness.  At which point, the former Bard always wakes up in the same cold sweat.

'I have *got* to stop having that nightmare every night, before I go completely nuts!'

Then, she lies back down, on her bed of straw, to try to get some more sleep.

********************

The next morning, Gabrielle hauls out, for the umpteenth time since she got here.  She goes down to a nearby pond, to freshen up.  Before she starts, however, she chances to see her reflection in the absolutely still water, and takes a good look at it.

'Either I've been here for more years than I thought, or that dream is aging me faster than I would have believed before everything went so wrong.'

She can clearly see the beginnings of crow's feet around her eyes and mouth, the faintest hints of future wrinkles elsewhere on her face, and an equally faint hint of gray just starting to creep into her strawberry blonde hair.

Then, she gets to work on cleaning and freshening herself up.

********************

Later that morning, the one-time Bard is boiling sea turtle eggs for her breakfast, in a pot made from the carapace of a land tortoise.  At least the food supply is reliable, if bland and limited, here.

Here.  Where she has been ever since it had all gone so terribly wrong.  Much of it is a blur in her memory now.  Solan's death.  Xena blaming her for the whole thing.  Their parting, as enemies.  Gabrielle going to Themiscyra, seeking refuge with the Amazons, while Xena went, the gods alone know where.  Spending two hellish days undergoing the Amazon Purification Ritual, which has to be a record.  Then, finally, passing out from physical and emotional exhaustion, to wake up… here.

The former Amazon Queen had spent the next few weeks exploring her new surroundings.  She had soon discovered that she is on a small island, with a wet temperate climate, plentiful vegetation of the sort that would be consistent with such a climate, but limited, and mostly small, animal life.  On a clear day, from the highest point on the island, she could clearly see an even smaller island some miles away to the north, and a hint of what could perhaps be more land, just over the horizon to the east.  However, with no boat, or sign of a boat, or of anything even remotely resembling navigational equipment, Gabrielle had swiftly concluded that some god or goddess, possibly Artemis or Athena, had taken her from the Purification Hut in Themiscyra, and dropped her off on this island.  Whether to safeguard her from Xena's wrath by putting her some place where even the One-time Destroyer of Nations wouldn't ever look, or as a much more ingenious punishment for the whole sordid mess than anything Xena could come up with, Gabrielle cannot say.  At first, it felt more like the former, but of late has come to feel more like the latter.  In any case, if she's any judge of seasonal changes, she has been here for some twenty years, give or take a year or so.

'One thing's for sure: a god or goddess apparently put me here, and if I'm right about where 'here' is, it would take a god or goddess - probably Ares - to bring Xena here.'

Barring that, or any other divine intervention, she would live out her remaining days on this nameless island, never seeing any other human face again, friendly, hostile, or indifferent.

Gabrielle now checks the eggs, to find that they are done.  She takes them out of the boiling water with a scoop she had made from some twigs and grass, and cracking them open, eats her breakfast.  Afterwards, she gets up, to continue her daily routine of survival.  Of mere existence.

'Yet another day in Paradise!'

Continue In "Bad Memories, Sad Memories"

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