By D.C. Parker
Please send Feedback to: d.c.parker@web.de
Disclaimer: Xena Warrior Princess, it’s characters and all related materials are the property of MCA/Universal and Renaissance Pictures.
Those lucky dudes.
Character uses are for entertainment only, not to hurt any rights. As always.
Warning: We are talking about Xena here guys…so there is always the chance of something dangerous happening, in one way or the other ☺.
Anyway, this story contains scenes of two women finally getting a clue and acting on what the rest of the world has known long before them. So if you are under 18 years old, or this kind of story is forbidden where you live, please do not read it.
Or move… ;)
Gabrielle’s POV: Finding shelter in a rundown Tavern after having defeated Najara, the Bard reveals a much unexpected truth about the Warrior Princess.
***
Calling it an Inn would have been more than polite, and I can barely keep back a groan as we enter the small room she has bought us with the rest of our money. The bed is only fit for one person, a really thin one it seems, and a small table in front of a dirty window with one stool whose wood smells of dew is all there is to it. I close the door behind me, having come in as second, and lean against it, silently watching the limping figure in front of me.
Now that it is over, now that we have saved the townsmen and brought Najara to justice, she doesn’t need to keep on her mask any longer. Here, in the absurd safety of a filthy room, with it just being us again, she is allowed to let go, even if just for one second. The farer we got away from the village, the heavier her footsteps became, and the fewer onlookers there were, the more I could see her whole body posture getting closer and closer to the point of collapsing.
I sigh, crossing my arms in front of my body, watching her limp over to the bed, back turned towards me, and, finally, sit heavily down on top of it. I have seen what that maniac has done to her, how cruel she had been beaten, and I can only imagine the pain she must be feeling right now. Her lips are split, and the left part of her face is still swollen, her eyes still bloodshot.
I bite my lip as I hear her wince, knowing full well that I am to blame for her misery. Again. Getting together all the courage I have left, I slowly walk over to her, my steps even more careful as the floor is creaking loudly underneath my boots. As I reach the bed, I swallow down the sudden lump in my throat, all too aware of my body shaking.
We haven’t talked about any of it since we left off. In fact, we haven’t been talking at all. We haven’t even been walking next to each other, Argo trotting between us like a barrier, one that I know she had put there on purpose. Gods, I just wish I knew what was going on behind those deep blue eyes, clouded over with a stark pain I seldomly have seen there.
Taking a deep breath, I sit down behind her and reach out a hand, intend on helping her out of her heavy armor. Maybe that will stir things up a little. That part of our evening routine that has become dear to both our hearts, when while putting her armor away, so she does her stoic warrior façade as well, leaving just the friend with whom I can sit, and laugh, and share the emotions of the days past events.
I touch her shoulder, feeling the heat of her skin.
She shrugs me away.
Standing up abruptly, she limps around the bed, me, and towards the table where she has put our bags while coming in, occupying herself with searching for something.
I sit there, feeling the heaviness settle more heavily on my shoulders. I can’t even blame her for being angry at me. I know I hurt her by not believing her when she told me Najara had a sick mind, by warning me not to get too close to her. I remember all too well the harsh words I used to brush her off. But can’t she understand? What it felt like to find someone who, even if it was an act, was searching for the same things I am? How good it felt to be needed in that kind of way, to be trusted, and accepted, not having to fight for that every step of the way?
“Xena?”
I barely recognize my own voice, fear and insecurity having reduced it to a hoarse, pleading whisper. I can see her shoulders stiffen for an instant, and then she gives her head a quick shake, keeping up her search, not turning, not answering, showing me better what she feels with that than words could have done.
I rub my face, sighing again, wincing at the dull pounding behind my eyes that started some hours ago. My mind is already spinning, my brain frantically searching for something I could say. Frantically trying to think out what she won’t tell me. I know that me wanting to go to that hospice must have stung her, but she should know better than to think I would leave her for good. Shouldn’t she?
Maybe that’s it. I know things are still rough between us, no matter how much time passed since Illusia, since Solon, since Hope, since Chin…but I at least hoped that matter would have been closed already. The ever present fear of her that I would go back to a simple life on some backwater farm. I thought she knew, after what happened with the Persians, that I would stay, that I wanted to stay with her. But sometimes, I think that me falling into that pit destroyed every bit of that carefully build up trust again. We talked about it, gods did we ever, so many long nights of talking, and fighting, and again forgiving each other for mistakes we made…
She has stopped her frantic digging through our belongings, having put some of the things I need for my evening washing and the night onto the table. From where I am sitting, I can see her hand clenching and unclenching around a dark leather pouch. Her grip so tight I imaging I can hear whatever there is in there creak and crumble. I turn fully around then, leaning my back against the bedpost, still desperate to find something to say.
She turns slightly, reaching towards one of the saddlebags, and with the light of the few candles having been lit for us before we came here, I finally get another good look at her face. At the dark circles under her eyes, of whom I just now realize have been there for quite some time now. And suddenly, it hits me. How long she has been getting even more quieter than she usually was. For how long she has stopped eating when not even half of her portion was finished. How many nights I woke up to see her sitting at the fire, her own bedroll abandoned, her face deeply lost in thought, so much so that she didn’t even realize I was staring at here.
“Xena? What’s going on with you?” She doesn’t answer. Of course not.
But I didn’t really expected her to anyway, for this is not the first time I have to dig long and hard for whatever she is hiding from me. So I do what I always do, I walk over to her, closing the distance, standing right there, next to her, so close that our bodies could touch would she let them.
“Hey…can I do something for you?” She holds out the pouch to me, and now I can see it is the one with medical herbs. I nod quickly.
“Do you…want me to brew some tea for you?” She shakes her head no. I frown.
“But…”
“For you headache.” Her voice is so rough it sounds close to breaking, and it instantly robs me of breath, tightening my throat, making me almost choke.
And now, I feel ashamed. She is the one enduring pain, body bruised, soul raw, heart hurting. She is the one that is surely tired beyond caring, and hungry, barely hanging on. And yet, there she is, doing what she always does, thinking about what she always thinks about first.
Me.
“I…Xena, I am sorry.”
She shrugs again, averting my gaze, starting to turn away. But I can’t let her do that, no matter how much this is going to hurt. Both of us. And painful it will be, for I can sense it in the way her whole body tenses up, her muscles bunching, knowing she is holding back what is possibly anger sharp as a razors edge.
At Najara.
At me.
At herself, maybe?
I don’t know, but I will find out. There have been too many secrets between us in our past, too many moments where I should have questioned her but was afraid to, afraid of my own feelings, afraid of my own heart. Not now. Not anymore.
“Don’t…please…Xena, talk to me.”
I can hear her breathing go ragged, and for the flash of an instant I wonder if it is really the best choice to push her like that. Maybe I should just let her go, let her cool off…
No! No I won’t! This has to stop, for both our sakes!
“Xena please…I know I made a mistake with trusting her. But you can’t possibly expect me to guess that something is that wrong with her, can you?”
I reach out with one hand and try to turn her towards me, but fail helplessly. She is too strong, and too stubborn for me to be able to move her even the slightest inch.
“Come on now…are you really that angry at me?”
I can hear that tone entering my voice, that fine mix of desperation and hurt and anger that sent the sparks flying between us every time I used it. But not today. She still doesn’t say anything, still won’t turn.
I can feel my blood starting to pump through my veins, feel the rage build up, and I am helpless to stop it. That damn temper of mine that always snaps when words are not able to reach anywhere behind that thick skull of hers.
“All I can say is that I am sorry! What else do you want to hear? That I regret trusting her? That I regret believing her? Fine, I do!”
Her fists clench. Her yaw starts to move. A reaction. Finally…
“What else, Xena? That I choose to have a little fun…”
I am not able to finish that sentence. And maybe that’s the best thing that happened to me that day.
She turns, in a movement so quick I jump back slightly. Staring at me. And there, in the little light of murky shadows, I can see a lone tear slip down her cheek. And her lips tremble. And her eyes so full of desperation and pain I can barely stand it. And something else is there, a dark, brooding energy I see in her gaze for the first time ever. Something that looks, incredulously enough, like…no…no that can’t be…
“Xena…”
She grabs the last saddlebag, yanking it from the table. Her face hard as stone, her hand roughly brushing at her tear streaked face. And I can still see it, burning even brighter now, making my mind race, like my heart. Could it possibly be? Could she really be…jealous?
I have no chance to say anything more, for she circles me, limping towards the door, opening it and passing quickly, before she slams it behind her so hard it makes the wood crunch.
Leaving me there. Stunned, my mouth slightly open, my whole being in turmoil.
I am sure she won’t be far. We have left Argo on a small clearing close to that smelly Inn, and that’s where I will find them both.
But not tonight. For my feet are not able to move. Nor is the rest of my body. Keeping me there, rooted to the spot, with a truth suddenly ringing so loud in my ears its almost painful.
She was jealous…because of us…because of me…
Nothing has ever felt that good.