ForevaXena's FanFic . . .

Splinters Of The Soul by Diamonddog

Disclaimer: This is an original work of fanfiction copyright 2000 by me.

Subtext: These stories are intended for mature audiences over the age of 21. These stories do include romance and conspicuous love between pairs of consenting female adults. If this stuff offends you, run away screaming now! If this is illegal in your town, vote.

Convolution Alert: This story is an Uber-Xena story (sort of), but it winds its way through several simultaneous stories.  To make it easier on the reader (sort of) I've identified each section with the name of the incarnation of Xena native to that place.

Dedications: I want to thank the two people who made this story possible. 

To my soulmate Dianne, I just want to say thank you.  Putting up with an obsessive, compulsive writer is no easy task.  Thanks for helping me brainstorm and thanks for putting the kids to bed alone and still smiling when I finally managed to join you.  You make me understand what love really is every day of the week.

Send all feedback to: daemonddog@prodigy.net

Part 2 of 27

IV- Xena

Smoke coiled around the open beam work of the inn's main room.  The patrons, mostly farmers and peddlers and lightweight sharpies on their way to larger markets, were all buzzing as Gabrielle ended the story of Meleager's escape from execution and the incarceration of the duplicitous Judge Arbus.  Xena sat as far away from the fireplace as possible, preferring a wall to her back and friendly shadows to conceal her presence.  This was Gabrielle's place to shine, her element. 

Xena loved to watch her perform. 

She also liked to keep an eye on her bard.  Gabrielle's enthusiasm sometimes blinded her to the faults and subterfuges of others.  It was a quality Xena treasured, but also one that the warrior princess accepted as hazardous in a room full of drinking men.  Better to be wary, just in case.

Gabrielle wound her way through the crowd without incident and sat beside Xena on the rough-hewn wooden bench.  "What did you think?"

"I think they loved you.  What did you think?"

Gabrielle smiled and leaned against Xena.  "I think I'm going to tell another story or two," her eyes twinkled in the firelight, "and then I think we need to get a room."

"I thought we'd just find a nice campsite outside of town," Xena replied nonchalantly.

Gabrielle shook her head absolutely.  "Nope, I'm earning the dinars tonight and I'm choosing where we sleep.  If you really don't want a soft bed and a hot bath, you can go make camp.  I'm getting a room."

The discussion was over.  Gabrielle stood up and strode back to the fireplace before Xena could argue.  The ex-warlord sighed.  It was hard enough to resist Gabrielle when they shared the same fire and bedroll.  It was even harder in a bed.  Gabrielle seemed content to sleep beside her in the woods, stirring only occasionally.  But in a bed... Xena never slept. 

Gabrielle was far less inhibited, if that was possible, in a bed behind closed doors.  She snuggled and nuzzled and wrapped around Xena as she slept, her tussled hair and occasional sighs leaving Xena breathless.  Gabrielle's cool skin pressing against her with only a thin layer of material between them left Xena's heart skipping and her mind desperately trying to remember all the reasons why ravishing your best friend was not a good thing in the long run.  Xena felt her flesh tingling already with mixed anticipation at the thought of it, and that meant no sleep tonight.  She did not trust her sleeping self to follow the same code of ethics she imposed upon her waking mind.

But if you were sleeping, you wouldn't be responsible.  You could test the water, and, if she did not respond, you could claim you were dreaming about Ulysses or Marcus.

Xena watched Gabrielle begin a new story, her eyes flashing in the firelight as her animated expressions and features began illustrating the tale.  The inn's patrons fell mostly silent as soon as she began, listening as the bard wove her spell around them, transporting them far away from the small villages, the exchange rate for chickens, and the field that would need to be plowed soon.  With the power of her words, she brought them to the window of the world that Xena and Gabrielle shared.  Adventure and excitement.  Danger and deceit.  And occasionally death.

Xena marveled as she watched her bard warm to the story.  The entire room focused upon her.  Gabrielle's gift, like everything else about her, helped improve the quality of life for others.  Xena had never met anyone like her and knew she never would again.  She knew she did not deserve her but could not imagine life without the bard.

The innkeeper set another glass of port before Xena, his hand trembling slightly.  He must have recognized her. 

"I didn't order this."

The innkeeper nodded towards the fireplace.  "She said that she would tell stories as long as you continued drinking..."

"Oh, did she?"  Xena raised an eyebrow and glanced over at Gabrielle.

The bard was watching, her eyes shining directly into Xena's and daring her to take up the challenge.  Xena wondered why she had chosen this particular competition, but she did not hesitate.  Her fingers wrapped around the wooden tankard slowly then raised it in toast to her bard, blue eyes burning through the smoky miasma between them.  Gabrielle's power over the warrior princess frightened her at times.

Xena continued to drink through the evening, and Gabrielle told tale after tale until finally all the patrons had either passed out, fallen asleep, or gone home.  Only the innkeeper stayed awake, and then only to bring Xena more port.  Gabrielle's voice was cracking.  Xena smiled, sensing victory.  Though she had had far too much of the smooth alcohol three mugs ago, her unreadable expression was firmly fixed and she made sure that her movements were slow and precise.  Quick movements would have betrayed her appalling lack of hand-eye coordination, still fine by normal standards, but for Xena, devastatingly careless.  There would be no hurling of chakrams tonight.

Then something Xena heard caught her ears.  Something about the story that Gabrielle was telling.  She fought her way through the light haze that had settled over her brain to hear what it was.

"They sat at the inn well into the night, the bard telling her tales and the warrior drinking.  They had been traveling for weeks, and the last attack by the soldiers of Ephesius had left them hungry for a bed, a bath, a roof, and walls.  It had been too long for them both."

What story was this? Xena leaned forward and cocked her head, trying to narrow all her hampered senses to hearing alone.  Too long for them both?   What by Hades did that mean?  Had she missed this tale?  She thought she knew all the tales in her bard's repertoire.

"It was near dawn when the assassin struck.  He had been biding his time well, concealing himself among the commoners, pretending to sleep as the bard wove tale after tale.  He was waiting for just the right moment.  Fortuitously for him, the warrior had been drinking more than was her usual wont.  He had watched her steadily throughout the evening, apparently playing some game with the bard though he could not divine the rules or the goal.  He planned to attack when they turned to mount the stairs for the bedroom he knew that they would share.  Neither surprise nor skill was guaranteed to prevail against the legendary abilities of the warrior, but he knew with both in his favor, and her senses dulled by the bittersweet port, he might succeed in his mission."

Xena's eyes widened when she glanced out the open shutters and saw the last tendrils of tavern smoke drifting outward, barely visible against the soft gray of the predawn sky.  Gabrielle continued as if in a stupor, exhausted and hardly herself, eyelids drooping.

"The sacred knives the master assassin had given him were poisoned.  It would only take a scratch in passing to incapacitate her, and then he could steal her soul.  Either hers or the bard's or both."

Xena jumped from the heavy bench and drew her sword from the scabbard at her back, not quite sober but far from helpless.  Brandishing her broadsword, she began picking her way warily through the sleeping farmers, moving towards Gabrielle.

"Gabrielle..." Xena whispered, still many paces away, trying to snap the bard out of her strange trance.

The bard looked up but did not seem to see her.

"Gabrielle!" she hissed more insistently.

The bard was watching her with a glassy stare, but then her attention flickered to a spot somewhere behind Xena.  Without looking, Xena spun the sword in one hand and then drove it backwards with both, moving forward as soon as she felt the blade sink into flesh, leaping and somersaulting to the bard's side.  Her landing was not as graceful as it could have been, but she ended up in the right spot, facing her enemy with her body between the assassin and her bard.

The man was clutching his ripped belly with one hand, a silver knife with a strangely carved black handle wobbling in the other.  He fell over and lay still with a finality that eased Xena's mind.  She straightened and turned to Gabrielle whose eyes fluttered as though awakening.

"Are you all right?"

Gabrielle nodded, but she was staring at the dead assassin as though she were seeing a ghost.  "Xena, I don't know where dreams come from, but wherever it is, they're missing an assassin."

Xena let that remark go till she could get Gabrielle to safety.  She was more concerned with getting out of the inn quickly.  Assassins did not always work alone.  She moved to the corpse, prodding it with her sword before kneeling and ripping a swathe of cloth from the dead man's shirt.  She threw the rough material over the dropped dagger and carefully rolled the wicked looking blade in the cloth.

"Come on, Gabrielle.  We're leaving."

"But I already paid for the room for the night..." she protested.

Xena threw her a nonnegotiable scowl and grabbed her by the arm.  "We're leaving... now."

Disoriented, Gabrielle allowed herself to be dragged, not really helping Xena but at least she was not digging her heels.  Gabrielle sighed very loudly, muttering something about "wasting and wanting knots" and "a dinar saved being a dinar earned" as Xena hauled her out of the inn, heading for the barn where Argo was stabled. 

Xena did not hesitate.  Keeping Gabrielle within easy reach, she saddled Argo with sober efficiency, the alcohol burned from her blood by the danger, mounted, and pulled the strangely quiet bard up in front of her.  Xena wrapped one arm around Gabrielle's waist tightly.  The other clenched around the reins as she wheeled Argo around.  The mare trembled and danced, sensing Xena's urgency.  The warhorse pushed into a full gallop at the slightest tap of Xena's heels against her sides as soon as they cleared the barn door.

As Argo hit her full stride, Xena stiffened suddenly.  She twisted in the saddle, transferring the reins to the hand that held Gabrielle in place.  The soft whistle or the bad feeling, Xena was not sure to which she responded, but her hand shot up... just in time to catch the shaft of a black arrow between her fingers.  That answered that question.  There was definitely at least one other assassin, and an archer at that.  Xena frowned and, careful to avoid the wickedly glistening tip, flicked the projectile that had been aimed at her back into the trunk of a passing tree as they galloped by.  She made sure it was lodged high enough to put the poisoned arrowhead safely out of reach of casual travelers.   She knew Gabrielle would have been proud of her.

It was not until they were far away, off the traveled road, and sitting around a campfire, the sun risen completely, that Gabrielle seemed to shake the strange mood that had gripped her in the inn. 

"What happened?"  the bard asked finally, rubbing her temple, eyes tired.  "I feel like I was just run over by a manure wagon."

"What do you remember?"  Xena sat down beside Gabrielle.

"Telling stories, watching you drink..." Her words trailed off, wincing as her brows furrowed and she tried to pry more memories from the stygian haze.  Finally, she shrugged and leaned against the warrior's shoulder.  "And then you were pulling me onto Argo..."

"What about that last story you told, the one about the assassin?"  Xena had already laid out her sharpening stone and honing oils.  The rasp of the stone grinding away the imperfections in her sword's keen edge helped the warrior relax and think.

Gabrielle snuggled closer and laid her head on Xena's familiar shoulder.  "That was from the dream."  The words barely escaped her lips when Xena felt the bard's muscles relax suddenly, and Gabrielle slipped fully into sleep.

Cutting her eyes to the drowsing bard, Xena watched her surreptitiously as she dragged the stone down the blade, slowing her motions unconsciously so that the bard was not disturbed.  She looked so much younger when she was sleeping.  Xena could not stop the smile that spread over her lips as she watched the steady rise and fall of her chest, felt it against her arm, and heard it near her ears.  She changed the rhythm of her sharpening to match it, enjoying the synchronicity and oneness.

Exhale-- down stroke.  Inhale-- upstroke.  Xena smiled gently.

Her body occupied and her heart at rest, Xena's mind wandered to the events of the evening.

How could Gabrielle have dreamed the future?  Xena frowned.  The obvious answer lay in the machinations of the gods.  Maybe Morpheus and an Oracle owed Ares a favor and this was the opening move of yet another game with the tenacious god of war. 

But the assassins had used stealth and poisons.  Although Ares would stoop to such levels as necessary, they were not his preferred methods.  He loved carnage and bared swords, raw fury and berserker rage, and he wanted Xena back in his fold, not dead. 

An ambitious warlord?  A vengeful victim?  Anything was possible.  Xena's list of enemies was extensive.

And then there was that soul part of the story.  Very strange.  The poison on the dagger's blade would incapacitate her or Gabrielle so that their souls could be stolen?  Wasn't that what Gabrielle had said?  Xena mulled that over carefully.  Who would want their souls?  Hades was surely not that impatient; all things came to him in time.

V- Raven

"Get away from her!" Jasmine growled, staff at the ready as she pushed by the blonde haired woman who was crouched on one knee beside Raven's inert body, shoving the woman as she moved between them.

Morgan just smiled and allowed herself to be unbalanced and toppled backwards by the bard, laughing at nothing, eyes dancing with a light which seemed altogether unwholesome.  "Oh, it's you..." she pushed a stray blonde lock out of her eyes and giggled, "You know... I always thought that it would be you laid out like this.  I figured I'd find Raven broken-hearted and in the mood for a fight to the death and we'd finally settle all this once and for all.  I never imagined it would be Raven.  I mean, after all, you were always the liability of the deal.  I never did see the attraction... but I guess I'll just have to comfort you instead."

The staff moved in Jasmine's hand automatically, so attuned to the bard that it moved like a living extension of her will, the tip of the Amazon weapon hovering close to Morgan's chest, pinning the grinning blonde to the ground.

The room was small, but Jasmine's gaze darted across every recess and shadow.  She did not want to find out too late that Morgan was not alone.  Raven would have been proud.  Even here, grieving over Raven's body in the Amazon village for the second time, Jasmine responded instinctively.  Years of traveling beside her warrior princess had made her more careful, but not careful enough as Raven had constantly reminded her.  The thought almost brought tears to her eyes.  Almost.  She shook her head and narrowed her eyes at the lithe blonde woman who stared at her with fixed merriment.

She did not wonder how Morgan had slipped into the Amazon village unseen.  Raven could have done it, and Morgan and Raven were warriors of similar caliber.

Obviously unintimidated by the weapon holding her on her back, Morgan smiled recklessly, running her slender fingers through her pale blonde hair as though she were just waking from a nap.  Her voice was light and would have been pleasant save for the crawling sensation that raised every hair on the back of Jasmine's neck.  "Oh, c'mon, Jasmine.  I don't know why you're getting so upset.  Death never seems to stick with either of you two.  Besides, Raven was mine long before you made an appearance.  I have every right to pay my respects to our late great warrior princess."

Jasmine gritted her teeth, hating herself for never being sure how to respond to the blonde warrior.  She had gone from victim to warlord to immortal to chaoslord and back to mere mortal again, sanity constantly in flux.  But Morgan's scars, within and without, seldom failed to elicit a pang of sympathy from the bard.  She could not imagine having lived Morgan's life, and though she was intimately aware of the woman's lethality, Morgan's single-minded obsession with vengeance on Raven struck the bard as pathetic, at least when they were not enmeshed in one of Morgan's plots.

Raven had never understood Jasmine in that regard.  Raven had always seen Morgan as a grim reminder of the crimes she had committed as a warlord, a living monument to her failures.  But Jasmine saw Morgan as a dark reflection of Jasmine herself, of what she might have become if she had met Raven before the warrior princess had changed.

And because of that, Jasmine had never stopped believing that deep within Morgan lay a soul hungry for peace, starving for her own lost innocence.  Somewhere very deep... below her madness, below her stripped emotions, below her rage and bitterness.  Of course, Morgan's caustic remarks did not allow Jasmine to be empathetic very long.  Morgan could alienate a holy virgin with her cutting tongue in the time it took to draw a blade.

Morgan grinned and stroked the staff hovering above her chest.  "You know what they say about women who carry long pointed objects.... they must be amazons," Morgan giggled at her joke, but Jasmine did not understand the humor.  Her position as errant Queen of the Amazon Nation was no secret.

"Okay, Morgan, you paid your respects.  Now leave."

Morgan smiled more broadly.  "And leave you in your time of need?"  Her piercing blue eyes twinkled mockingly.  "Hell, no.... Raven would never forgive me.  I consider it my solemn duty to protect her darling liability until she gets back to do it herself."  Morgan waited for her words to take root.  "Of course if you really don't want me around, I can leave."

Jasmine's heart stopped then her emerald gaze tightened to slits.  Morgan was baiting her.  She hated herself for biting but how could she resist?  What if there was a chance...  "What do you mean until Raven gets back?"

Morgan rolled away from the staff and hopped to her feet lightly, brushing imaginary dust from her chain and leather armor.  "That's better, Jassy.  I knew you'd see it my way."

"You said Raven would be returning?"

Morgan nodded but glanced away, her eyes investigating the corners of the small room, bored, sighing, roaming, following along the perimeter, drawing her fingers along the walls.  "I did say that, didn't I?  You would like that, wouldn't you?  You would like to have your girlfriend back... I know I would if she were mine..."

Jasmine ground her teeth and tried to sound less bothered than she felt.  "What exactly do you want, Morgan?"

Giggling, she replied, "Why... you, of course, Jassy."

"What?"

Morgan's blond brows shot up over a delighted grin.  "Oooooo... did I surprise you?"  She clapped her hands in silent glee.  "Yes, I'm sure you know that her body is not quite dead.  It's just sort of there.  The lights aren't quite out, but nobody's home.  No soul, no need for the body... even one as delightful to look at as Raven's... but a soul-stealing assassin does that to a person..."

"That assassin stole her soul?"

"Is there an echo in here or are you really as annoying as you act?"

Jasmine bit her lip and tried an ingratiating smile.  "Please, Morgan... tell me what you know..."

"Not so fast, little bard... first we do the business and then I tell you what you need to know."

Jasmine sighed.  "What do you want, Morgan?"

Without warning, Morgan stepped very close to Jasmine and pressed her lips against the bard's ear.  "Why I want you, just as I said...  Oh, don't look so horrified... I couldn't stand to have your cheery yammering around for very long.  I don't know how Raven puts up with it.  I just want one night."

Jasmine was speechless. 

Morgan savored the moment, grinning as she absently curled a lock of Jasmine's red-blonde hair around her finger.  "You know you're making this even better than I imagined."

Jasmine just stared at her, too stunned to speak. 

"Oh, don't get excited... at least, not yet..." Morgan giggled, "It's just that I've asked myself a zillion times just what it is Raven sees in you.  Now I am finally going to find out, and with the added allure of knowing that when Raven does return she'll never me forgive for doing it.  I figure then we'll finally be even, and she'll come after me."

Jasmine stared.

Morgan dropped an arm across Jasmine's shoulders.  "Of course, I'm sure my tastes and Raven's are far different... but I haven't killed anyone... well, not lately anyway."

"Morgan..."

"No speeches.  Just yes or no, Jassy.  You gonna do the dirty deed with me to save Raven?  Just say no and I'm gone.  Never see me again... never.  Trust me."  She traced Jasmine's collarbone with one slender finger, the metal mesh of her open-fingered gauntlets clinking gently with the motion.  "Even if you look for me after you've lived alone for a few years, missing your warrior princess and completely desperate to do anything to bring her back, I won't be around.  This is it.  Now or never... what's it gonna be?"

"How do I know you're not lying, Morgan?"

Morgan wagged a finger in Jasmine's face, the corner of a lip turned downward mockingly.  "I knew you were gonna start calling names, so I'm prepared to make you a deal.  You don't have to do anything until after Raven is back.  No chance of me cheating that way."  Morgan smiled with teeth bared.

Jasmine winced, brows worrying.  "This is crazy."

"Anyone ever tell you how cute you are when you're suffering a moral dilemma?"

Jasmine took a deep breath and then just nodded.  "Okay... IF you can help me bring Raven back, it's a deal."

Morgan whispered into Jasmine's ear, "Oh, I will.  I want to see the look on Raven's face when she finds out what you've done..."

A baritone voice intruded.  "And finding out her precious trophy has been a conquest in her worst enemy's bed might just drive her to rage again and wouldn't that be a pity?"

Jasmine jumped and pulled away from Morgan, backing away from both her and the man who had appeared from nowhere.  Morgan did not jump at all.  In fact, she did not even seem surprised.

"Heya, Arial.  How's his royal chaosity today?"  Morgan greeted the darklord with a reckless smile.

"What's going on, Arial?"  Jasmine's staff hovered before her, separating the two of them from her, though she knew the threat meant nothing to either the blonde warrior or the chaoslord.  It made her feel better though... a little better anyway.

Arial stood like a statue, his bare, muscular arms crossed over his gleaming gray breastplate.  His crimson sigil, engraved deeply into the armor, glistened as though wet with new blood.  His finely chiseled visage was shadowy, curly black hair sweeping down low across his shoulders, ebony eyes gleaming like a crow at carnage, his bronzed skin absorbing what little light filtered into the room.

"What's going on?  Nothing I can't help you fix," he purred, a perfectly charming smile on his darkly handsome features.

Jasmine's eyes narrowed.  "I already made a deal with Morgan."

"Oh, Morgan can tell you how to bring Raven back... you should have seen what she did to Sashial's oracles to get that knowledge... made me proud to call her a warrior... but you'll need some assistance from me if you actually intend to make the attempt."

"The attempt?"

Morgan sighed loudly and rolled her eyes, hands settling on her hips.  "The rescue of Raven's soul, dimwit.  She's been taken to some place else inside that silly little knife.  You need to bring the knife back."

"Why would someone steal Raven's soul?"

Arial's dark brows furrowed.  Morgan shrugged.

"Does it really matter?  Morgan has told you what happened and what you need to do to repair the damage.  Bring back the knife.  Ah, but you need a way to get there, don't you?"  Arial smiled his roguish best.

"And why do I need your help to get to the place the assassin has taken the knife?"

"Because whoever has stolen it has taken it from this world."

"Taken it... from this world?"

Morgan frowned and cast her eyes about the room.  "There's that pesky echo again..."

Jasmine grimaced but turned her attention to Arial.  "Another world... like the Soul Realms?"

"No.. the Soul Realms may be separate from the mortal world but they are still part of this reality.  Whoever stole Raven's soul took the knife to another reality.  Another world.  A place unreachable by both mortals and the lords of chaos and law."

Jasmine's brows wrinkled skeptically.  "If it's so unreachable, then how can you help."?

Arial held out his hand, and a glossy black metal wristband appeared in his palm.  Morgan peered at it curiously but did not approach the chaoslord.  Her vendetta against Raven had not endeared her to Arial, and whatever temporary alliance they seemed to have formed to revive the warrior princess seemed to have definite boundaries.

"What is that?"  Jasmine asked.

Arial shrugged.  "I never gave it a name.  I won it in a battle aeons ago from an ageless sorcerer who said that he used it to cross the strange voids that separate realities.  In fact, he claimed that this world was not his own at all.  I wrested it from him... fairly, of course... and, after some gentle coercion, he explained its workings to me.  Unfortunately, this only works for mortals.  For our own reasons, it seems we all want Raven back.  Morgan suggested that you might be the best person for the job."

Morgan curtsied.  "No applause necessary.  Just doing my little part to bring our favorite warrior princess back to the fold."

Jasmine frowned suspiciously.  "Why didn't you just go yourself, Morgan?"

Morgan wrinkled her lips and indicated Arial with a disgusted thumb.  "He did not trust me to bring her back... figured I might just battle her to the death wherever I found her."  She shrugged and smiled wickedly.  "Can you imagine?"

Arial winked at Jasmine, oozing thick friendliness that made the bard's stomach churn.  "I know how much you want her back.  I know you won't fail me."

Jasmine stared from one to the other.  Raven's two greatest antagonists and seemingly the only two people who cared as much as she did about the return of the warrior princess.  And though their reasons were as despicable as they themselves, they were honest in their expression of wanting her back.

Jasmine felt dirty about this already, but for the chance to be with Raven again...

"Okay."

"Not so fast, Jasmine!  My aid does not come without a price either."

It figured.  The vultures were circling.

VI- Xena

Xena eased the bard carefully onto the bedroll she had laid beside the fire.  The morning was still cool, so she pulled the blanket up to Gabrielle's chin, then stopped to brush some stray strawberry-blonde locks away from the bard's face.  She was so beautiful, so sweet, and so passionate...

Xena turned away before her thoughts took her places that would make concentrating on the issues at hand more difficult.

She scooped the wrapped dagger from her pack.  Carefully, she unrolled it, keeping the blade far from her bare flesh.  She wanted to examine that carved handle.  Maybe that would tell her more about the assassin's master.

Once unwrapped, Xena noted the glistening sheen that still clung to the blade.  She did not want to take chances with Gabrielle and the toxin being anywhere near one another.  Listening carefully with all her senses, she moved away from her sleeping bard towards the small stream that had made this campsite desirable.  Still listening, she knelt and dipped the dagger in the stream, using the cloth that had held the blade to scrub the sheen from its length.

The dagger was a strange piece of work, its silver blade bright and wavy.  It bore no marks of usage.  No nicks or stains or imperfections.  It had seen little or no use before the assassination attempt.  The hilt was the oddest part though.  It was carved of some glassy black substance and bore the shape of a lean dog-headed man whose ears rose high above his head like a donkey's.  Xena had seen many weapons in her battles, but she had never seen anything like this.  She tossed the weapon a few inches into the air and caught it by the handle, noting the dagger's lack of balance.  All the weight was in the blade.  The hilt seemed very light, very delicate, hollow she realized.

Xena turned the blade over in her hands, but she was no longer examining it.  She was listening to soft footsteps creeping behind her, trying to move without sound.  She recognized them so she tried not to smile.  She wondered if her bard would ever stop playing this game with her, trying to surprise the warrior.  She noted with pride that Gabrielle must have been practicing; she had gotten very close before Xena had heard her, much closer than she had ever managed in the past.

Xena waited, still fondling the blade, and smiling.  She would move when she heard the whistle of the staff.  She would let the bard believe that she had her... right till the last second.

But the approach stopped several steps away.  Xena waited but then grew impatient, deciding to end the stalking herself.

"Ai-ai-ai-ai," she cried as she uncoiled from her crouch, her body knifing upward, and then tucking into a backward somersault.  She landed directly behind the bard and brought her arm up under the bard's chin, pulling her back against her with playful malevolence.  "Not smart."

Gabrielle relaxed backwards into her, her cheek brushing the warrior's neck, followed by a feathery kiss on Xena's jaw that produced a gasp from the warrior.  With a molten look of undisguised hunger that Xena had never seen in her bard, Gabrielle whispered, "I know... you always win."

Xena inhaled sharply, but the bard did not hesitate.  She turned in the warrior's embrace and slipped her arms around Xena's neck, ignoring the surprise in Xena's bright blue eyes as she melted against her.  "I had the worst dream..." she murmured as her fingers sifted through Xena's mane, "I dreamed that you left me."

Xena was transfixed.  For once in her life, she was afraid to do anything, sensing something too good to be true but not willing to let go of the possibility that this might be real.

"You promised never to leave me again," she whispered as her lips reached for Xena's, the tip of her tongue flicking across them just before they touched, and then she turned fiercely passionate in ways that Xena had never dared dream.  Her lips crushed against Xena's, and she moaned as her tongue sought the warrior's.

The shock finally broke, and before Xena knew what she was doing, her arms enveloped the bard and pulled her against her so roughly that she felt the breath leave Gabrielle's body.  She devoured those lips, tasted that tongue, her hands moving over the contours of Gabrielle's body in ways that she had resigned herself that only her eyes could do.  Her breath was ragged, and she fought desperately to slow the wild ache that was pulsing deep inside her.

Her mouth covered the bard's completely.

"Ummmm... Xena?"  the voice was Gabrielle's but it did not come from the lips she was crushing.

Xena jumped away as if scalded.  "Gabrielle?"  she asked the wide-eyed bard that was staring at her in amazement from the edge of the woods, then back to the Gabrielle she had been kissing with passion, noting for the first time that the strawberry-blonde whose eyes now seemed equally shocked was clothed differently than the woman she had tucked into her bedroll.

"Raven?"  The question slipped out as almost a plea.

Xena shook her head, but her eyes turned and locked on her Gabrielle, realizing what her bard had just witnessed.  She opened her mouth to say something.  She was not sure what she would have said, but Gabrielle moved to Xena's side before the warrior could explain, laying a quieting hand on her arm that did not quell the panic that had slipped into Xena's blue eyes.

"Jasmine?"  she asked the other Gabrielle.

Jasmine noted Gabrielle's hand on the warrior princess that was so like Raven.  A tear fell down her cheek,  "Then it wasn't a dream?  Raven is..." Her voice choked.

Xena's attention flew from one to the other.

Gabrielle dropped her eyes.  "The assassin at the inn?" she ventured softly.

A haunted memory clouded Jasmine's eye, but then her jaw stiffened and a familiar defiance touched its set, piercing Xena's heart.  "He has her soul, and I have come to get it back."  Xena recognized that tone of voice.  There would be no arguments.

Gabrielle seemed to understand, "Let's eat and then we'll talk."

Jasmine agreed, her eyes touching the warrior's again, but this time she sighed.  She turned and walked towards the campfire and Argo, shoulders sagging and head bowed.

Xena took a step to follow, but Gabrielle whirled in front of her, emerald eyes flashing.  "Oh, we're not done yet."

Xena tried to look dispassionate but the fear of losing Gabrielle was beating against her breast like some frantic winged bird trying to escape the constriction of her heart. 

Please let her forgive.  Please let her not hate me.  Please.  This was not how it was supposed to be.

Xena silently implored anything that would listen.  She dared not speak, waiting to hear Gabrielle.  But Gabrielle was staring at her with those intense green eyes.  "Gabrielle," she began softly.

"Xena, you were kissing her!" 

It was an emphatic observation, but Xena could not tell what emotion fueled it.  Revulsion?  Anger?  Shock?

"But I thought it was you..." Panicked, Xena's mouth engaged before she thought about what the best response would be.  She cringed and cursed herself when she realized what she had said.  That had certainly made it better, hadn't it?  "Gabrielle..." she tried again.

"We'll talk about it later.  She needs our help."  Xena had never heard the bard's tone so final before, but she was more than willing to let it go until she had time to figure how to undo the damage.

Although she could not help but wonder if her Gabrielle would kiss like that... and tried to repress a wolfish smile as she watched the bard's retreating backside. What a kiss it had been... parts of her still trembled... and wondered...

It had been too long. 

Part 3