All Souls Night.

Disclaimers in Chapter One.

"How long may a man lie i'th earth er he rot?" -Hamlet to the Gravedigger. "Hamlet" Act V, Scene I.

Screams filled the air. Screams and cries of horror. Of rage. Of glee and desperation.

Screams coming in a chorus of voices which Xena dimly recognized as issuing from her own throat.

Fire and chaos surrounded her now, at once a dimly strange and clearly familiar scene. Flames licked at the wooden walls around her, and ate into the rafters overhead. Her own clothes were smoked and alight here and there; nothing to be desperate about. The fires had already done there damage, leaving her right shoulder and side charred and festering.

She caught sight of Gabrielle across the flaming room, and felt her heart constrict at the sight there.

Their attacker, the blond woman with wild eyes and her mad screams, held the smaller woman by the throat with a single hand, her other glowing with a fierce corona of blue and white. The was no fear to be seen in Gabrielle's eyes, only resolve and a fire a thousand times fiercer than the flames surrounding them all.

Xena moved without thinking, the pain of her burns suddenly a small thing. She heard her shoulder crack, dislocated, as she caught their attacker square in the back. New pain lanced through her good shoulder and side, but it accomplished its goal, the new issues of pain and shock not her's alone.

So powerful was her attack, her momentum alone carried the both of them far beyond her strength's limits. They plunged as one through flame-weakened timbers, out into the flat green beyond. They tumbled like lovers over each other and the grass, more howls issuing from both, pain and anger intermixed.

"I Will Kill You!" screeched the blond wildcat, who scratched and clawed at her cheeks and throat, her perfect nails finding no purchase, drawing no blood. Xena, on blind instinct and intuition, braced her abused shoulders against the soft earth, coiling her legs between herself and the wildcat's waist, snapping them straight out and propelling the blond still further away from the house and, more importantly, Gabrielle.

Xena managed to roll to her feet, both her arms hanging uselessly at her sides. She swayed more from the exertion than her wounds. The wildcat had never, *never* been able to get this close! Even using little Hope she hadn't gotten this close!

For the first time in her millennia of life, Xena knew she faced death. Cold fear settled across her broad shoulders, though not for herself.

"Gabrielle," she heard herself mutter involuntarily. There was no time for more, however. Wildcat screeches of her approaching death drowned out all else.

"I WILL KILL YOU!!!" Callisto screamed, her usual hysteria in her eyes a dozen times as powerful. She hovered over her ancient enemy, every bit the predatory hawk ready to swoop down upon the hapless mouse.

"Same tune you've sung for two thousand years, Cal," Xena fairly gurgled, refusing to look up. "And we're all still here." She hardly recognized her own voice, its calm and clarity alien to the pain she swam in. ėMust be shock,' she decided from a distance.

Callisto purred in response, her eyes hardening to cold stone. "Oh, but Xena, m'love, *now* I'm ready to *finish* this silly little game of ours."

"Why?" Xena could feel the blood seeping into her stomach, dripping into and filling her lungs. She coughed, the back of her hand coming away red and slick.

Callisto, exiled goddess of chaos unbound, smiled a smile of depraved innocence and angelic madness.

"Because."

Callisto raised both arms to the heavens, their blue corona alight, and threw them both towards the wounded, dying demigoddess.

The air, sky, and ground were suddenly alight with a midnight sun of energy and rage. The heat alone scorched the ancient trees surrounding them to ash, their thick bark torn away to their very atoms, the soil beneath them fused to raw carbon and coal. So harsh was the firestorm, it lived no longer than a moment, consuming all that might feed it in the blink of an eye.

Xena, who had stood at the center of the storm

Xena, only daughter of Cyrene, mother of Solon, child and once-student of Ares, the Lion of Amphipolis, sword of the Amazons, guardian of the weak, healer, warrior princess of two thousand years and a hundred times as many battles, warrior princess at whose hand had died more men and women than might ever be counted in one lifetime.

Xena, lover and companion eternal to Gabrielle...

was no more.

******

*When you think of the dead...*

She drifted in a place with no name and no boundaries. She did not speak, for there was no need to.

She did not think, for there was no need to.

This was a place beyond all things. Even time.

Even grief.

Even love.

She *was*, and that was all.

But she would sometimes hear a distant thing. A word.

A name she recognized without thought.

Xenaxenaxenaxenaxenaxenaxenaxenaxenaxenaxenaxenaxenaxenaxenaxenaxenaxenaxena

The name meant something touched something deep within her.

It forced her to think.

Time passed.

The name resounded in this nameless, empty place more and more often. The more it resounded, the clearer it resounded, the more it disturbed her quiet.

Emotions intruded, taking with them the serenity of her being and defining her by the pain their brought to her. She no longer simply *was*, but became more with each echo of the Name.

Eventually, when the pain gave her form and allowed no respite, when the Name returned again and again and again, with its irresistible strength then did she remember herself.

*...the dead can hear her thoughts.*

With a voice clear in its anguish, Xena of Amphipolis cried out to the void...and to the lost half of her soul.

"GAAAABBBBRRRIIIEEELLLLEEEE!"

Phantom tears streaked across her ghostly cheeks, her pain, the sweet agony of her loss and love giving substance to the etherbeing she had become.

She screamed and screamed Gabrielle's name, her limbs thrashing about, connecting only with the nothingness of this personal abyss she existed within now. For how long she could not judge, her strength seemingly endless. The futility only added fuel to her already-stoked desperation, but slowly drained it as well.

When she finally calmed and quieted, a minute or millennia later she would never know, Xena took stock of both herself and her precious cache of memories. She remembered with hot, vivid clarity her final moments of flesh. Why she hadn't simply landed in Tartarus (or, worse, the Fields) was a mystery she'd have to divine out later. She'd been there before, albeit briefly, after saving M'llia's clan cousin from those barbarians, and would have recognized it instantly.

Could she have found her way back into Illusia? No, Xena decided. Those memories, the nightmare she and Gabrielle had put each other through *there* were every bit as vivid as those of M'llia rescuing her from that cross in Tartarus.

Ever practical, Xena's interest in *where* she was extended no further than finding a way out of it and back to Gabrielle. It was a void, she ėsaw', and so appeared so eternal and inescapable that Xena momentarily despaired of leaving it.

Her thoughts turned at once to Gabrielle. She envisioned her soul's mate as clearly as if the ancient bard now stood before her, unaged and eternal. Gods, she could actually *smell* the soft fragrance of her hair. Xena felt herself shake with the strength of the memory, here eyes closing at once in rapture and agony. To remember her, and never touch her again *that* was the cruelest torment.

Xena opened her eyes...and found herself gazing down upon the sleeping Gabrielle.

This was no memory, no fantasy.

Gabrielle, gloriously nude, snuggled within crisp sheets and blankets within a massive bed, her rich hair spread all about her peaceful face.

Xena reached out with a hand only she could see, to brush away the single strand of honey-red hair from her love's brow. She reached out, only to feel it pass completely through both the hair and flesh beneath.

The cry she issued put to shame all the screams of the damned since time began.

Xena turned and fled, not realizing she ran through both doors and walls without the break in speed, tears once again streaming from her eyes.

She was far gone when Gabrielle roused from her sleep and looked about. "Xena?" she called to the empty bedroom, tears stinging her own eyes, her thoughts filled with what she'd heard in her dreams: long-dead love, screaming out in despair.

Xena fled through buildings and woods, seeing nothing, feeling nothing, heedless of her course and having no destination save the need to be as far as she could manage from her sleeping bard. This would shock her, when she eventually slowed to a halt, this willingness to turn away from the one she loved above all else, to flee the one thing which had rescued her from an empty eternity.

The first flashes of shock and regret were not enough to stop her, no. In fact, the only thing which did stop her was her phantom foot suddenly becoming tangled in an exposed tree root, tripping her face-first into the forest's floor. Too her amazement, she actually *felt* the pain of her ankle as a physical thing, as well as the bruises of her shoulder and hip where she'd landed.

Looking about, she saw nothing that might explain this sudden ability to feel sensation. The forest clearing about her was every bit as natural and grown as the trees surrounding it. True, the grass here was shorter, and looked as though newly grown, younger than the rest of the area. There were a few old trees, their bark striped from the trunks and their surfaces pitted and marred by black patches.

The area sung out to Xena, at once soothing and disquieting with a familiarity to it she immediately recognized but could not consciously place.

It sung in mad screeches and with the scent of burnt air.

How could she *not* know this place, the place of her death?

The air was filled once more with her silent cries of rage this time. Xena raged with all her inexhaustible energy at Hades, Ares, the Fates, the cosmos and all its immutable laws.

She could feel here and only here. *Not* with Gabrielle not with Gabrielle ever again.

She screamed and raged and cursed and wept and screeched and wept more until the sunlight had died, the stars becoming her silent audience. Luna wisely chose that night to be absent, lest she too hear this anguish.

Xena looked upwards, seeing nothing, her mouth working with only one question.

"Why?"

The stars and trees could offer her no answer.

The wheel of day and night turned many times before Xena mustered herself enough to think beyond the patch of grass she sat on. It hurt to think, because then she would have to remember Gabrielle. The emotions did not wash over her any more. Rather, they taunted her phantom form with prickles of memory and sensation, giving momentary substance to her emptiness; a million tiny itches she could never scratch.

In time, to distract herself from this, Xena took to taunting herself. "Behold the might Xena of Amphipolis," she would declare to the grass and gnats. "Behold she who conquered Death itself. Behold her eternal reward!"

Not once did it occur to her to seek Gabrielle out again.

Occasionally a young deer or bold squirrel would approach her, coming close enough that Xena could actually reach out and brush her fingertips against their warmth and achingly solid down. When such company did approach her, all the rage vanished, and the pain of loss, while never banished for all times, receeded to where she might remember only the love.

Too often, though, Xena was left with only her rage and pain.

More time passed.

Ironically, it was amid one of these rants (this one played for the benefit of a terrified anthill, its colony retreating to its lowest levels and awaiting it annihilation) that The Plan came to her.

"Look upon the great and powerful Xena,"she laughed bitterly to the wind. "Mighty, eternal Xena, daughter of Cyrene and Ares! Warrior princess, spawn of the God of War! Never to kill. . . "

Xena stopped and went utterly silent right then. She was the offspring of a god. Not a terribly good one, granted, nor particularly wise or insightful. But willful, proud, vital and devious.

She bore no love for her sire, any more than Gabriele did her own. Yet they had both lived, even thrived to the current day. Nearly two full millennia had she seen, virtually unchanged and (until Callisto at least) immortal.

Could her Olympian heritage have bequeathed some gifts to her besides long life and physical accumen?

She had first felt the pulse of life in the arms of Lau Moa, her minds eye catching a glimpse of the threads and veins which connected all things. Her release in the Chin wisewoman's hands let loose such energy, the image was obliterated as the veins surrounding and connecting them were flooded so brightly as if to burst. She had even forgotten the sight existed.

But now, Xena looked about her once more. She looked with eyes wide, and saw the threads of live woven about her in a delicate, unbreakable web of life. Her hand reached out unconsciously and touched the nearest chord, only to jerk away. The sensation of blazing fire filled her right then, so intense was the life-pulse. Perhaps foolishly she tried again to touch it, though this second time she encountered none the fire, her fingertips instead grasping the calm THUD-THUD-THUD of life's eternal rhythm.

Xena lost herself in the rhythmn for a time, reacquainting herself with simple sensation of *life*. It was so tempting to simply let go of herself and join the soothing beat...so tempting...

She very nearly did loose herself. A single thought wound its way into her thoughts the heartbeat before she joined the web...a single, smiling face...framed with golden hair...

After that, there was no more thought of finding her peace anywhere save in Gabrielle's arms.

Xena turned her thoughts then towards finding a way back to the existence and solidity of flesh. Unlike her previous experiences, she had had a body to return *to*. This time she was not so fortunate.

She could try simply possessing a body who's spirit had already passed on, though Xena had to concede the chances finding such a body was slim. And even if she could find one, how could she be certain she wouldn't suffer any loss of self in the process?

Another possibility was entering a newly-conceived fetus. *That* idea didn't even bear close consideration, the very notion more abhorrent to her as marching under Ares' banner.

Unfortunately, this left her with almost no options. Oh, she might find Autoclytus' descendent and prompt the poor fool into searching out more ambrosia, but such an exercise would be pointless without a body for her to reoccupy. The other options were simply beyond any lengths she was willing to go. Gabrielle might forgive her for taking the body of a deceased, but would certainly turn away were she to take the live of a just conceived innocent. How close they'd come to killing each other over Hope was a memory she would never dare forget.

She needed a body, though. That little fact plagued her thinking worse than the unfilled ache in her heart. But could she risk that same heart on so desperate a gamble?

This debate raged like a war within her, both sides unassailable in their arguments, until the frustration so boiled within her that she could only slam her hand into the earth below her.

The jolt of pain, which shot up through and throughout her, was enough to silence all voices. Xena looked about in shock. True, she'd regained her sense of touch in this place, and hence her ėhaunting' it for so long. But the experience only returned when she came into direct contact with the living flesh of another, not simply touching the grass or soil. Could it be...?

Xena reached down, her phantom hand sliding into the ground, and came to rest upon a layer of pure sensation. There was no other way to describe it. Past this layer she felt nothing, yet this same layer was virtually everywhere she pressed her fingers to, here and there. Xena swept both hands in a wide circle, never loosing the sensation. The clearing, it seemed, was the only place where she might be so enchanted, all sensation ending at the treeline.

Could it be her destruction was not as...complete...as all had thought it?

Xena recalled the words of an ancient people she and Gabrielle had happened upon once. A people who had claimed to have unlocked the secrets of life itself, claiming the secrets of every individual's body was hidden within the tinniest bit of skin and drop of blood. That it would take no more than a single drop of a person's blood or the skin of a scratch to ėgrow' their perfect twin. Their demonstration had made believers of both Xena and Gabrielle.

If what she felt *was* in fact her god-blasted remains, could they not provide enough of 'her' to build herself another body? They were spread thin, true, but she prayed this only meant there was more than enough for the job.

The ancients who had shown her these secrets had used a potent elixir and concoction of herbs to ėgrow' their twins. Xena had no such materials at hand. Indeed, all she had was her insubstantial self and the forest surrounding her.

The forest...and the raw energy pulsing and beating throughout it.

With this realization, a daring plan presented itself to Xena. Just as a plant needed sunlight to live and grow, so too did a living body need the energy of life to course through it. Lao Ma had taught her that as well.

With raw energy enough, could not a new form be built from the ashes of the old? Would not the secret knowledge of her body remember itself if awoken?

The thought of Gabrielle, alone, unprotected...unloved...made the decision for her.

Plunging a hand once more into the living soil, her other reaching out to the nearest glowing vein of life's force, Xena turned her eyes upwards to the heavens. Appropriately, it was just breaking dawn.

"Please," she begged of the heavens, her outstretched hand shaking. "Please let me remember her."

Without another moment's hesitation, Xena grasped the thread of life.

The light of creation consumed her world.

And in that light could be heard the cry of a newborn life.

******

Xena opened her eyes, finding herself standing once more on the plateau before the cave. This time her back was to the cavern's yawning expanse, her breathing calm and even as ever before.

She remembered it all now, and didn't try to brush away the tears that streaked her cheeks.

"Now," rang a voice she recognized as her own. "Now, you must choose."

"Oh?" Xena replied, turning to face the cloaked phantom of her dreams. "I don't see what choice is necessary."

The phantom drew back its hood, revealing her face to mirror image. The cloak fell away, revealing familiar leather and brass armor, though both sword and chakram were missing.

"You must choose whether to exist as a warrior or as the child of the warrior."

Xena gave a short laugh to this, which sounded more as a snort. "No, warrior," she said, shaking her head. "I refuse that choice."

"*You*," the warrior almost sneered, "don't have that luxury."

"Oh, but I do, warrior." Xena took a step closer to her mirror twin, managing somehow to look every bit as formidable naked as her warrior image did in full armor. "I remember *everything*. Everything I have ever done. Everything I have ever been. Every battle, every massacre, every cause, and every tear." She took a step back, her voice becoming gentle. "We aren't a dichotomy, Xena. I...we...have always been more than simply a warrior or a victim."

The warrior Xena glared, but said nothing.

The newborn-reborn Xena continued. "The choice you would have us make is a false one, Xena. It would wipe away so much more than..."

"Then let it!" spat the warrior, her fist and shoulders clenching. "Better it *all* be wiped away than have to relive it *every single night*!"

The reborn Xena took another step back, this time in shock. She knew what the warrior spoke of, and to some extent agreed with her. She recalled in vivid clarity every time Gabrielle had broken ranks with her and betrayed their trust. In Chin, in Britannia, in Illusia, over the Amazons and the Titans, siding with Sir Ancelyn and his band, fleeing Nord'kapp without her...those were moments her warrior-self too easily remembered.

But...for every one of those terrible moments, weren't there a thousand and one moments of trust and love to be remembered? Had they not cried more tears of joy and spoken of love more than of anger and betrayal?

The reborn one shook her head. "No, warrior. Darkness and light, together, or nothing at all."

"Well," purred the warrior quietly, sweetly. It set the reborn one's hair on edge. "Who says I'm *giving* you the option to begin with?"

The warrior's arms shot up, their fingers wrapping themselves about her neck. The reborn Xena managed with equal speed to grasp those hands and pry them from her neck, much to the surprise of the warrior. The latter's shock lasted not even a full second, as she abruptly swung her legs out and so unbalanced her naked counterpart that she succeeded in essentially tackling her.

"I will *not* be cast aside," the warrior spat, her face inches away from the other's.

"You won't be," the reborn Xena attempted to assure her.

"Liar!" The warrrior grasped her twin by the shoulders and wrestled her to stand once more, this time catching her in a tight headlock. The next thing the warrior knew she was tumbling across the plateau, her twin straightening to crouch in readiness for the next attack.

"Damn it, Xena!" the reborn one cursed. "This is pointless. Neither of us can win."

"Then we stay here," spat the warrior, her face the picture of desperate rage. "Forever." The warrior charged again, only to be flipped over and unto her back, landing and straightening herself several feet away.

The reborn Xena shook her head and thought desperately. She was certainly holding her own, and could probably do so for the rest of eternity. As no doubt could the warrior. She'd meant what she'd said. This was pointless. Just as neither of them could likely ever manage to defeat the other, neither could simply surrender and be done with it. Yet, to carry on like this for all time, and just as she'd gotten her memory back...

The warrior had backed herself several step to the plateau's edge, her legs bracing to run. In that instant, Xena saw a...*the* way for their mutual defeat...and mutual victory.

Her own legs carried her with a speed born of desperation. There would be no second chances with this, and so this one attack would have to be *it*! She saw the warrior's expression harden, her stance change ever so slightly, bracing herself for what she expected would be simply an effort at pushing her off the ledge behind her.

Judging by the surprise which coiled her body at the moment of impact, she was *not* expecting her twin to wrap both arms about her and drag them both over the precipice!

The warrior screams of outrage were quickly lost as the abyss of consciousness enveloped them both.