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“Do you think it’s some kind of omen that this is the foot I twisted?” Xena asks as Gabrielle guides her toward the nearest resting place, gesturing to the little mark of ink she drew along her foot so that she and Gabrielle would be able to find each other in every life.
Gabrielle rolls her eyes. “Are you implying I’ve cursed you?”
“Maybe.” Xena disguises a wince with a dangerous smile.
“I’ll drop you right now,” Gabrielle warns, her tone taking on a dangerous, playful edge.
“You wouldn’t dare. You spend too much time begging me to let you take care of me to pass up your chance.” Xena may be onto something with that one, but Gabrielle won’t grant her the satisfaction of being right. She’d never hear the end of it if she did.
“Try me.” As if to prove her point, Gabrielle loosens her hold on Xena’s shoulders just enough for the other woman to wobble. Xena yelps and tightens her grip on Gabrielle’s waist, barely managing to keep herself upright. Gabrielle flashes an impish smile. She makes a condescending little noise in the back of her throat. “That’s what I thought.” A moment passes before she adds, “I’m shocked you’re even letting me do this.”
“Don’t get used to it.” Despite her protests, Xena braces herself against Gabrielle as she lowers herself down as best she can without putting weight on her twisted ankle. A hiss escapes her anyway. Her fingernails dig into Gabrielle’s shoulder, leaving angry red marks and eliciting a gasp from Gabrielle. “Sorry.” She settles onto the log and adds, “For all of this.”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for. You’re allowed to be human, you know. Pain’s not some great moral failure.” Gabrielle curls up next to Xena, and the warrior shifts to rest her head in Gabrielle’s lap, swinging her legs off to the side.
The sight brings a little smile to Gabrielle’s face. When they first met, Xena would run off to lick her wounds alone. If someone else saw how she hurt, they’d be able to identify one of her weaknesses. Even Gabrielle hadn’t earned that honor yet. Any time she tried to offer her services, Xena would shrug her off as she stitched gashes in her own arm or tied herbs up in a poultice. If Gabrielle offered a stabilizing arm to help her back to her feet when she was knocked down, Xena would bat her arm away with catlike precision. If Xena screamed in the middle of the night, fighting some battle that only she could see, she’d roll away from Gabrielle and her inquisitive concern. In the morning, she’d deny that she even woke up at all.
But Gabrielle’s become a sanctuary for Xena. The realization snuck up on Gabrielle, as most things about Xena have. The first time Xena handed Gabrielle a needle and taught her how to sew up a wound, her hands shook so badly she ended up sticking Xena three more times before she managed to suture the existing cut, but Xena pressed a chaste kiss to her rough hands and told her she could have a future as a healer. One morning, she startled awake to the weight of Xena’s arm around her waist and the press of her firm body against her back, the rise and fall of Xena’s chest a shocking reminder of her mortality. When she asked Xena if she had another nightmare, Xena explained every detail to her. Slowly but surely, Xena opened up like the petals on a flower, one that Gabrielle had to tend with all the light and care she had in her.
Now, Gabrielle can’t imagine anything more divine than the comforting weight of Xena’s head on her legs, her soft hair tangled around her fingers, the tickle of her breath against the exposed skin of Gabrielle’s thighs. Her eyes flutter closed – whether out of reverence or relaxation, she’s unsure. “Gabrielle?” Xena asks, her voice soft as if it’s coming from another world. Gabrielle makes a little noise of acknowledgement in the back of her throat. “Tell me about your scrolls. I don’t ask enough.”
Gabrielle’s cheeks flush brilliant pink. “You don’t want to hear all of that. It’s not like you weren’t there for them, anyway. And you hate how much I write about you.”
“It’s important to you.”
“Okay? That doesn’t mean it has to matter to you.” Gabrielle keeps the defensive fire out of her voice to the best of her abilities. It’s not that she doesn’t want Xena to know what she’s working on – or that she doesn’t want Xena to know about the version of her that she’s created. Gods know she could stand to look at herself through Gabrielle’s eyes every once in a while, and see her virtues rather than her flaws. She just doesn’t want Xena to have to act like something’s important to her just because Gabrielle likes it.
“Just shut up and tell me about it.” Xena, as best as she can in their current position, gives a playful nudge to the other woman’s leg with her head. The brush of skin against skin sends a shiver down Gabrielle’s spine, though she knows better than to pursue it with Xena in this state (even if there’s nothing she’d love more than to settle between those beautiful legs and drive Xena to the heights of pleasure to distract her from her pain).
Gabrielle settles for giving Xena something else she wants. “Well, my most recent one gets into everything with Aiden. But I don’t think you want to think about that right now.”
Xena wrinkles her nose as she looks up at Gabrielle, studying every mark on her face, no doubt recollecting just how close she came to losing Gabrielle – and the things she had to do in order to ensure she didn’t. Gabrielle’s noticed her struggling to subdue her dark side; the vision of the two of them on the cross, the vision that Gabrielle now knows lurks in their future no matter what either of them tries to do to stop it, pushed Xena closer to her breaking point than Gabrielle ever wanted to see her get.
She pretends it doesn’t scare her. Puts on a brave face for Xena’s sake. Her warrior’s already frightened enough by these visions as it is, trying to push Gabrielle away so that she doesn’t become collateral damage in the war the world wages against Xena. She tries not to let it hurt her feelings; the other woman doesn’t mean any of it and always repents with tender kisses that seal every wound. Xena’s aggression’s rooted in protection, not bloodlust. Gabrielle knows that. She reminds herself of it when the worry of losing her Xena for good starts to overwhelm her.
“I’d rather not,” Xena says, her voice soft and sheepish. “Sorry.”
“That’s okay. I’m full of stories,” Gabrielle says, brushing a finger along Xena’s cheek and across her jaw.
“Just…tell me your favorite.”
Gabrielle’s blush darkens. “You promise not to laugh? It’s silly. And you know it already. I’ve been practicing it forever. Usually while you’re trying to sleep.”
“Promise.” For emphasis, Xena reaches up and seizes Gabrielle’s hand, bringing it down to press a soft kiss to her knuckles. She holds their entwined fingers right over her heart. “We deal with enough tragedy.”
Gabrielle straightens just a little like she always does when she’s telling a story, legs flexing against Xena’s head. Her voice takes on a familiar authoritative cadence. “I sing of love. When the gods first created humans, we had four legs, four legs, and two heads. But they feared that we’d become too powerful – perhaps even powerful enough to scale Mount Olympus and overthrow them. As a precaution, Zeus cast down thunderbolts, splitting each pair in two, leaving two legs, two arms, and one head with each of us. Aphrodite took pity on us and placed in each person a great longing to find the other half of our soul. Now, humans wander day and night, calling out for the missing piece of themselves, guided only by the compass of our hearts. Every prayer comes down to a desire to love – and to be loved in return.”
Xena looks up at Gabrielle, rapt. Gabrielle wonders if she could bottle up Xena’s expression and get drunk off it, at the way she looks at her like she’s the sun, moon, and all the brightest constellations all rolled into one, the greatest source of light she’s ever known. Xena rights herself. As soon as she’s comfortable again, she pulls Gabrielle closer to her, dropping a kiss on Gabrielle’s bare shoulder and lingering there, looking up at Gabrielle through hooded eyes. “You’re really good at that, you know,” Xena says, her lips quirking up into a smile against Gabrielle’s skin. Despite her warm expression, there’s something distant in her voice. “Even if I’ve heard you tell that one a thousand times,” she adds like an afterthought, still a thousand miles away.
“I would hope so. Wouldn’t want your memory being tainted by a poor storyteller, would we?” Gabrielle asks, tilting her head ever so slightly so her cheek bumps against the top of Xena’s scalp. Maybe the gesture will pull her back from wherever her mind’s taking her. Xena turns to settle into the crook of Gabrielle’s neck, and a thrill races through Gabrielle at being the one to keep Xena safe for once, even in as small a context as this. Her arm slides around Xena, finding purchase in the curve where her hip melts into her thigh. She could live in that little space, if only Xena would let her.
After a moment of peace, a thought crops up in Gabrielle’s head. Before she can stop herself, she adds, “I’ve been thinking about that story a lot, you know.” Xena makes an inquisitive little noise in the back of her throat. The vibrations from it roll against Gabrielle’s skin. “It’s really nothing, it’s just – have you noticed that everywhere we’ve gone, someone’s been talking about soulmates?” She matches Xena’s hesitance, heart thrumming in her chest.
Xena stiffens, though she doesn’t abandon her place in Gabrielle’s arms. It’s a little victory. Even a few months ago, the thought of fate – especially of them being fated for one another – would’ve scared Xena away for a few hours. “I have.”
“I know you don’t really believe in all that. It’s too romantic for you,” Gabrielle demurs. “I guess I just think it’s nice, how we’re all trying to find ways to make ourselves feel less alone.”
“Yeah.” The words stick like burrs in Xena’s throat. Even the single syllable comes out raspy, like it hurts to voice anything. She doesn’t manage anything else, though Gabrielle can feel her jaw working, like she’s gnawing on the very thoughts she wants to form into words.
Gabrielle’s brow knits together. She’s heard that tone a thousand times before, the warning bell that comes before the storm. Thunder’s rolling in Xena’s mind. If Gabrielle were to look into her eyes, she’d see a maelstrom, the woman she loves drowning in the memories of all the times she believes she’s failed Gabrielle. She saw it a thousand times in the earlier days of their relationship, when Xena still feared that Gabrielle was this innocent little thing who would shatter if Xena held her too tightly. Now that it’s rooted in love, in the desire to save her from what she believes is their fate, the storms frighten Xena that much more. The wind howls so loudly that Xena can’t even hear Gabrielle’s assurances that she doesn’t care what happens to them as long as it happens to them together. She just has to hunker down and wait for the tide to go out.
All Gabrielle can do is try to be an anchor, like Xena was for her.
She tilts Xena’s face up so they’re eye to eye and presses a gentle kiss to her forehead. Even if her words don’t get through to Xena, perhaps the softness of her embrace will. Xena’s breath catches in her throat. “Come back to me, Xena,” she pleads. Xena tries to flinch away from her touch, but Gabrielle holds her firm. “Please. What’s going on in there?”
“I can’t stop seeing it.” She’s desperate, every syllable a prayer from a woman who barely believes in the divine outside of Gabrielle, the only goddess she’s ever let herself worship. “I can’t stop it from happening. You saw it.”
“The vision?”
Xena nods, tears welling up in her beautiful blue eyes. Something inside Gabrielle twists and snaps. “I can’t save you, Gabrielle. If you keep walking down this road with me, it’s just going to lead to your death. Again and again. You have to go home. Somewhere. Anywhere that I’m not.”
Annoyance flares in Gabrielle’s chest. There Xena goes again. Treating her like something fragile to be protected, claiming that Gabrielle’s life’s worth more than her own. “And what happens to you, huh? You just get to march to your death like some kind of martyr?” She tries to come at this from a position of true curiosity, but she can’t rein in her irritation. Hasn’t she proved herself? Hasn’t she made it clear that she can take care of herself? She understands where Xena’s coming from, she really does. Were she in Xena’s shoes, she’d be a wreck. She’d throw herself in front of every blow meant for Xena just to keep bruises from her skin, learn to catch every arrow that may pierce her, trade her staff for a sword and become some great destroyer.
But she knows Xena can handle anything the world throws at her (except, seemingly, losing Gabrielle).
Why can’t Xena have that same faith in her?
“It’ll stop them from coming for you. They want me. They’ll leave you alone.”
Gabrielle lets out a harsh laugh. “Xena, you’re too smart to believe that’s true. Even if you march right into Rome, they’ll find me just to get to you. Caesar has eyes everywhere. You really think we can hide from them?”
“We’ll never know if we don’t try.” Her voice gets quieter and quieter as the sentence continues, like Xena can’t even bring herself to believe it.
Gabrielle shakes her head and gets to her feet, pacing in front of Xena. The firelight flickers against her pale skin, illuminating every one of her taut muscles as if the world itself wants to make it clear that she’s not the same girl who left Potidaea. She’s a warrior now – one who has the strength to fight only for what’s good and just, one who rarely finds herself drawing blood just for blood’s sake – and Xena had damn well better start seeing her as one. “No.”
“What?” There’s less sharpness behind Xena’s question than Gabrielle anticipated.
“No, you don’t get to do this, Xena. Not right now.” She straddles the line between firmness and frustration. Yelling at Xena never gets anywhere. Blowing up at her does nothing but push them deeper into an argument, and if the visions are true and the two of them really are going to die, she’d prefer not to spend the limited time they have remaining arguing when she can come up with so many better uses for it.
But it doesn’t mean she’s going to let Xena push her away and waste precious time, either.
“Do what?” Xena asks, eyes tracing Gabrielle’s every movement. There’s an earnestness to her voice that gives Gabrielle pause.
Gabrielle fixes Xena in place with an arrow-like stare. “Act like loving you is some big mistake. Even if it is, it’s my choice. You don’t get to make it for me.” It’s a reprimand, not a condemnation.
“And when it gets you killed?” Something deep in Xena’s voice cracks, a desperate woman’s last plea. Her gaze strays, like she can’t look at Gabrielle without seeing her a ghost in her place.
“That doesn’t scare me, Xena. Not anymore.” Gabrielle stands her ground, stock-still in the fire’s glow as she studies every little muscle twitch in Xena’s face.
“I don’t want to lose you,” Xena says, quiet like a breeze through the night, hoarse and ragged like the rustling of leaves, gentle like a hand stroking a flower petal. Everything Xena’s ever feared emerges in the single sentiment; she’s expressed it a thousand times but never with the same tenderness with which she’d bare a wound that she’d been concealing through a battle, bloody and raw and red, begging Gabrielle to offer her some kind of panacea and end this terrible ache.
Gabrielle’s resolve finally cracks. Her gaze softens as she runs a hand through her newly cropped hair. “You really think that’s possible?” Xena gives a tiny nod. “Even if you do, I’ll find you again. I’m not afraid. I’ll never have to miss you. And we’ll try again and again until we get it right.”
It’s like something out of one of her stories, Gabrielle realizes as she thinks about it all a little more, to love someone so much that you’re willing to give up the very idea of loving them just so that they can be safe. The thought brings her comfort. In tales such as that, the lovers always find a way to be together. They dodge their fates in their most trying hour and fall into each other’s arms, knowing that as long as they’re together, they can conquer whatever the gods throw at them.
Or, if the world ends around them, they hold each other close through their final moments, certain of nothing other than that they got to love – and were loved in return. Then, they start again. The world grants them new beginnings. Knowing that fills Gabrielle with hope. Why would she worry about what happens in this lifetime when she knows that she’ll have Xena with her in all the others? Love’s always guided her. If it guides her to her demise, she’ll at least have gone out knowing that Xena’s heart was always hers – and that hers is safe with Xena.
She has to admit: it’s a pretty compelling tale.
Maybe, generations from now, two lovers afraid of being pulled apart will find their own comfort in it.
“And what if there’s a world where…where you realize you don’t want to try anymore?” Shame tinges Xena’s tone.
Gabrielle can’t help but laugh at the sheer absurdity of the statement. “Xena, don’t be stupid. That’s not going to happen.”
“You promise?”
Gabrielle settles over Xena’s hips, taking care not to disturb her still-swollen ankle. She casts aside her earlier reservations about pursuing anything with Xena as the other woman’s hands settle on her hips, helping her down. They’ll be careful. Xena will tell her what hurts. Gabrielle’s arms wrap around Xena’s shoulders, pressing their bodies together. Even after all this time, it never ceases to amaze her, just how well they fit together. Xena lets out a soft sigh as Gabrielle’s thumb rubs comforting circles over her shoulder. “I love you, Xena.” The other woman flinches at the confession, no doubt thinking about how many times she’s heard those words burn with agony in her mind, the little reminders that Gabrielle will die with Xena’s name on her lips, but Gabrielle doesn’t let it bother her. “And that means something to me.”
“I know it does—”
Gabrielle puts her finger over Xena’s lips, silencing her. Xena meets it with a tiny kiss that still sends butterflies dancing through Gabrielle. “You’re the half of my soul I was always looking for. A part of me has always known that. Now you do, too. So I don’t care what happens to me as long as it happens with you, okay?”
Xena presses her lips together in a tight smile, every sentiment Gabrielle just expressed reflected back tenfold in her dazzling eyes. Gabrielle could profess her love for that shade of blue alone, if only Xena would let her. Xena reaches up and tangles her hand in the hair at the base of Gabrielle’s neck, gathering as much as she can in her fingers. “I never got a chance to tell you that you look beautiful like this.”
“On you? I should hope so, given how much time I spend here.” Gabrielle flashes a cheeky grin. “And how responsive you are to me in this position. Always gets a really good reaction out of you.” As if for emphasis, she rolls her hips against Xena, who arches ever so slightly forward into her touch, giving Gabrielle the perfect opportunity to lock her legs around Xena’s back.
“Careful, or I’ll take it all back.” There’s no bite to Xena’s words.
“You wouldn’t dare,” Gabrielle says, echoing Xena’s playful protestation from earlier in the night.
“See, and when I said you wouldn’t dare do something, you did it anyway. What’s to stop me from doing the same?” Xena asks, flexing her thighs under Gabrielle and tearing a gasp from her before Gabrielle can stop the sound. A wicked smile tugs at the corners of her mouth, the kind that she wears before she goes into battle (or before she reminds Gabrielle just who she belongs to). “I meant the haircut. It suits you.”
Gabrielle pauses for a moment. “You think so?”
“Oh, yeah.” Xena gives her an appraising nod, eyes lingering on every part of Gabrielle they can find – stomach, arms, legs, not an inch of her skin is safe from Xena’s hungry, exploratory gaze.
“Prove it.” Gabrielle straightens, feigning as much confidence as she can as her heart thunders against her chest.
“I’ve got a thousand other lifetimes to do exactly that,” Xena says, leaning forward to capture Gabrielle’s lips in a promising kiss. Gabrielle meets her with similar intensity, pressing Xena’s back against the rocks behind them, her legs keeping her from colliding with unforgiving stone. A little moan escapes her, and Xena catches it in her own mouth, allowing Gabrielle a sound of her own in response. It’s dizzying. It always surprises Gabrielle, how even after all this time, the reminders of just what she does to Xena drive her crazy. Knowing that this woman who fears nothing could fall apart at the slightest touch from a little bard from nowhere – it’s enough to draw another low moan from her all on its own. Xena grins into their kiss as she does, finding the same satisfaction of knowing what she does to Gabrielle.
If this is what the rest of eternity will look like, this endless cycle of love and forgiveness no matter the hurt they encounter? Gabrielle can’t wait to get used to that again and again and again.