All Soul's Night.

Disclaimers in Chapter One. Note: The author sincerely apologizes for having taken so long, but getting hit by a car and suffering protracted angst and anxiety is guaranteed NOT to be conducive to writing.

Surprisingly, it was Gabrielle who woke first on that seventh morning. She shifted a bit, prompting Xena's own rather startled awakening. It took the taller woman some moments to remember where she was and who was beside her. Gabrielle couldn't help but wonder if this was how she herself appeared to Xena every morning. If so, she marveled at the woman's absolute control over herself; she was ready to laugh herself silly at the scene, but lacked the strength right then.

Instead, she murmured "Hungry." and settled back. The command was clear enough, as was the clear mixture of amusement, annoyance, concern, and undisguised lust Xena threw at her in response. Still, she moved off the bed and hurried to the door, intent on summoning breakfast.

Xena only narrowly avoided colliding with Madrigail as she threw open the door. The older woman had been balancing a large tray, heavily layered with steaming food (the scent of which did very nasty things to Xena's stomach), with one hand while reaching for the doorknob with the other. She showed no surprise or concern at the near accident. Rather, she pushed past the startled Xena and moved to the bed with such speed and grace she might have simply floated there.

"Ah, you're awake," she declared, seeing Gabrielle wrestle herself into sitting upright. "Goo't. Now, you will eet all this and not miss a crumb!" It was mildly amusing how her accent became all the more pronounced at times like this.

"And *you*," she addressed Xena, eyes pinning her where she stood. "You will go and soak in de bath I jus' ran...and *not* come out until I say. You smell like a swine farm!" This was all such a departure from their normally retiring and quiet maid that neither woman immediately moved, both too shocked to do more than blink.

Madrigail's angelic patience chose that moment to expire and she bellowed "MOVE!"

Gabrielle began shoveling (there is no other way of putting it) forkfuls of eggs, toast, oatmeal, and the like into her mouth, swallowing mouthful after mouthful. It helped considerably that she was already half-starved. Throughout this scene of justified gluttony, Gabrielle kept her eyes firmly fixed on the tray before her; the thought of inviting Madrigail's wrath was insanely terrifying right then.

Xena herself jumped and gave a startled squeak at the bellowed order. As embarrassing as this was, it was nothing compared to the deep rose shade she turned when, after throwing a look of promise to Gabrielle, she managed to sprint down the hall and to the bathroom...where she promptly slipped on the damp tiles and landed on her firm hindquarters. Her curse, muffled as it was by the steamy air, was clear enough to leave even the saltiest sailor ashamed.

Like Gabrielle, Xena had no wish to risk Madrigail's ire; at least, not yet. So she quickly stripped down and stepped into the bubble-topped tub. The scented water was so warm and soothing, it melted away the tension that had been knotting her entire form as easily as it cleaned her skin of eight days of sweat and grime. It was so glorious, Xena decided she'd only knock the old woman through *two* walls instead of three.

Fully awake now, Xena's thoughts turned towards what she had termed (unconsciously) as "the moment". She slid beneath the foam, down into the blissful liquid warmth, to keep her schoolgirl giggles from being easily heard. It simply *wouldn't* do to give herself away just now.

She stayed under, mind scheming and rehearsing, until her lungs began bothering her for air and the bath water had noticeably chilled. Xena emerged to hear Madrigail's declaration of "Yes! You will finish de platter! NOW EAT!" She had to quickly submerge again, laughter threatening.

******

It was Gabrielle who was laughing later that day.

Madrigail had fed her more than even her huge appetite could handle, and had not allowed her to so much as fidget without laying in like the grandmother from Tartarus. Amazingly, Gabrielle actually finished it all, the many courses filling her and leaving her drowsy once more. She therefore offered no resistance to Madrigail's changing her dressings, and only murmured when she slipped on her softest silk nightshirt.

Gabrielle knew she should feel at least a little embarrassed by this; weak as she was, she was more than capable of dressing herself. As it was, the Ancient was too full and tired to do more than let the old woman fluff her pillows and tuck her in deeply beneath the sheets. Dreams and peaceful darkness took hold immediately.

She awoke when Madrigail's voice lashed out "No! You vil get into that bed and STAY THERE!"

"I will *not*!" hissed an all-too-familiar voice in an all-too-familiar tone. Gabrielle had heard neither in over a century. It brought a grin, not tears, to her.

"*You* are in no condition' to stand watch over a desk, ne'er mind *her*!" There was a sniffing sound, followed by "And you *still* smell like a pig. Act, what to you want? To kill 'er WI' your stink?"

Was that the sound of fists being clenched? "I. Do. Not. *Smell*!"

More sniffing. "No you don't. You *stink*."

"You..."

"*You*," the older woman cut in with undeniable authority, "will go and take another shower, 'den you will get into bed and stay there until I say otherwise."

"I..."

"No arguments, or I'll you toss into de bath and scrub you myself!"

At this point, Gabrielle had to cover her head with a pillow before her laughter broke. This filtered out whatever response Xena came up with as effectively as it covered the giggles. The combined effort of both moving and laughing left her dizzy, as though she'd been spinning wildly one way then the other for hours at a stretch.

None of which saved her from hearing Madrigail's admonishing "And you go back to sleep!"

Gabrielle couldn't help but comply, too spent from this new ordeal. She preferred sleeping right now, anyway. It gave her time to...plan.

******

Madrigail proved every bit the tyrant. After Xena emerged from her *third* shower, Madrigail hounded her into first eating, then climbing once more into bed. Gabrielle blearily awoke to their arguments, even attempting to join in to defend her lover, but neither proved a match to her vocal assaults which mercifully sent them once more into Morpheus' realm. The old woman took in the sight of her adopted charges peacefully wrapped in each other's arms, an almost-grin of success creasing her worn features.

Truth be told, she was worried...and *not* about a certain beaten-up bard, who's wound had gone from a mass of bleeding sores and cuts to traces of fast-fading welts, all in the space of less than ten hours.

But Xena...now there was something altogether different. Her own wounds had closed some time ago and were largely healed, otherwise Madrigail would *never* have allowed her anywhere near warm bath water, stinking or not. And to the untrained eye, Xena had lost none of her natural grace or stride to these recent trials. But Madrigail's eyes were *very* well trained, and so picked out signs, each leaving her more disquieted than the last did.

The iron determination behind her arguments, the way her eyes blazed with almost constant annoyance, the scowl she threw about like a pitcher would a curve ball, the swagger in her walk, the tone not of petulant defiance, but of hardened steel, suspicious glances at everyone and everything...all these things were alien to the face she'd known for over a year.

*This* Xena, the one who had gone tearing into the night with a sword in hand and fire in her eyes, only to return the following night with her clothes stained black with blood and the equally bloodied body of Gabrielle in her arms, was *not* the same one who had bickered with and gently bullied the staff over the past year. This Xena yelled, demanded, and did so with such authority that suggested it would be suicide to refuse her wishes.

Still, Madrigail recognized this new Xena. Among the oldest heirlooms in her family was a daguerreotype photograph dating back to the 1870s. Two women were in the photo, one towering over the other, the untamed wilderness of Canada behind them. There was a scowl on the tall woman's face and defiance to her stance, yet seemed more to shield her smaller companion than dominate her; Madrigail had seen quite a lot of these traits of late. Moreover, the same could be seen in portraits and reproductions she'd seen dating well back to the Middle Ages. In some it was merely the tall woman with raven hair and wild eyes, or her tow-haired companion alone. But when together the tall one would scowl and defy the world to touch either of them.

Madrigail knew she should feel overjoyed by these developments, but could only feel apprehension for it.

To have *that* Xena living in this house...keeping house with a wild boar in residence would doubtlessly prove easier, and far more attractive.

******

The virtues of feral pigs as house guest aside, neither patient gave the old housekeep reason to complain or curse over the next day. They slept as ordered and ate what she put in front of them. This acquiescence only served to raise Madrigail's hackles, particularly where a certain raven-tessled tower of feminine wiles was concerned.

If the glint she caught in those clear sapphire eyes of her's was any clue, a war of wits was in the offing. One Madrigail was wise enough to admit she'd already lost...damned if she'd admit it to anyone save herself!

Still, she'd milked this quiet manner of theirs for all it was worth, allowing Marcous and his ilk only the briefest of visits and letting her charges rise and move about with threats of the direst consequences should they overtire themselves. Both had the good grace not to laugh in her face at this, their eyes speaking of sights far worse than any she might offer.

Madrigail knew her cause was already lost, their recovery every bit as complete as it was speedy. No doubt they would be up and away from any influence she might bring against them within a day, a thought as heartening to her as it was saddening. She simply didn't have the energy to match wits and wiles with the two of them as she once might have.

So, the old housekeep had to ask herself, where do we go from here.

******

A question Xena found herself asking on an almost minute-to-minute basis, each successive repetition more desperate than the last. Gabrielle's constant presence certainly wasn't helping her deliberations any.

The confusing visions had stopped after her first restless night in bed. Whether this was through sleep, Gabrielle's presence, or the two in tandem, she didn't have any argument with the results. This peace of mind only heralded a new battle to be fought: that of telling a painful truth to one who had suffered more than her share, and damned if she'd add to the burden.

All the same, *not* saying anything would be tantamount to lying through her teeth; and equally unacceptable option on the simple practical ground that she'd never be able to maintain such a front for more than a second. Those emerald eyes would dismantle her at first glance.

Caution was needed; Gabrielle had, after all, survived a *very* long time by sheer wit backed up by almost unparalleled strength. She was not one to accept any claim, however honest or earnest, simply at face value. To even risk it was an invitation to a cooked hide. Something Xena had no wish to repeat.

Then again, avoiding the issue altogether only invited stresses and strains to their lives she knew neither of them could survive. The scars their bodies had healed, but Xena's trained ear heard the hollow ring to Gabrielle's laughter, her eyes picking out every tremor and well-covered shudder brought on by the merest touch. Thank gods it didn't reach to her unconscious, which let her sleep peacefully in her arms. Xena doubted *she* could have survived the past week without that comfort herself.

But how to explain without shattering her delicate bard? *Her* bard... Xena felt it strange for her to even think such things, when she herself had been only so much chattel and property to others for so long. The thought of...owning another...even if it were only their heart (Xena snorted a laugh at that; there was nothing "only" about the heart in question)...her breakfast threatened to revisit her and make the acquaintance of the carpet.

There was no sign of this as she leaned against the bay windows that overlooked the woods, her thoughts turning to an entirely different track. Had it only been a week ago when she'd last run those trees? Last terrorized the squirrels and bugs with her knife-throwing? Seven days ago she'd been an innocent, no crimes to her name save those she'd committed *herself*.

Xena shook her head from such pointless musings. She looked across the wide bedroom, to where a crown of darkly golden hair, topping a column of rich blue satin and sun-kissed skin, lay reposed atop creme cotton and soft pillows. Slits of hazel and emerald regarded her, a teasing grin being answered with one of her own.

Could she do this thing? No, not now, with her throat constricting and nearly strangling her.

And yet...how could she not? Her legs turned traitor, carrying her to the bedside entirely of their own leave. How could she refuse?

Gabrielle had fully opened her eyes, was staring with such clear (and hungry) intent, Xena was nearly undone by the gaze alone. A single hand, reaching out and catching her's, and she knew all resistance was a lost cause.

Her knees bent of their own volition, lowering her to the smaller woman's gaze, though Gabrielle herself needed to sit up so their eyes came level to each other. Even kneeling, Xena still towered over her.

Gabrielle trembled as she closed the small distance between them, which to other eyes would have been a sign of purest want. But Xena saw the truth there, in those wide and brilliant eyes: fear, so strong to be bone chilling and paralyzing to a lesser soul. Fear of the desire burning within her, and where it would lead. Fear of the memories of what had happened, and how they were sure to overwhelm what was about to happen.

Fear that what had been taken from her by violence was lost...and with it, all hope that they might become whole again.

Xena remembered the morning so long ago, when her own memories of her new "owner" and her whips and play overwhelmed her before Gabrielle's eyes. Xena marveled at her bard's courage to risk this, courage she herself only now remembered. She marveled, but would *not* allow it to finish its fool's errand.

"Gabrielle?" she managed with her husky voice, the sheer effort needed to speak it making it come out sharper than she wished.

Clearly Gabrielle drew her own conclusions from this, given how quickly she released Xena's hand and turned away, curling into a fetal ball as she did. Xena's sharp ears picked out the broken sob of despair, that short sound a dagger to her own heart.

"I...I don't want..." The words tumbled out of her mouth, poor vessels to explain herself and her confused emotions with.

Too poor to stand against Gabrielle's soft, teary voice. "Me!" *You don't want me anymore!* those tears accused as clearly as if spoken aloud into silence.

"No!" Xena exclaimed, only to quiet seeing Gabrielle's jump at her denial. "I don't want to *hurt* you..." she continued in a quieter tone, desperation and love mingling there, her own despair creeping in seeing the stiff set to Gabrielle's shoulders. The bard would hear no more words, whether whispered or shouted, however desperate or reasoned. She curled even tighter into herself, as though to make herself a smaller target to whatever hurtful words Xena might hurl at her.

Damnit! This simply wasn't working! Xena felt panic grip her as never before, the courage of all her years deserting with that thought, only to return like troops rallying to the sound of trumpets. With it came realization of her mistaken efforts. Words were not what were needed here, but action; deeds that would put to rest any doubt the bard might harbor.

Xena stood and backed up a half-step; it was the longest, most difficult step she had ever taken, her every muscle fighting the movement.

There was *no* such struggle to issue the command which came next.

"Gabrielle, look at me."

******

The tone, more than the words themselves, were what penetrated the haze of her misery. Only a handful of times had Gabrielle become so lost within herself - after the death of Solon and Hope; when Xena had stormed away from her amid the frosty ashes of Nor'Kapp; those months alongside Ancelyn and his band, when she could barely speak and could only hear Xena's accusations ring in her ears...

But this time...

Compared to what they'd done, Dahok's invasion had been a gentle seduction.

Too much had happened, too much she refused to allow herself to remember...because if she remembered, she would have to tell Xena...and then Xena wouldn't want her any more, because then she'd see how *ugly* they'd made her...who would want to be with someone so *ugly*?

But Xena already knew. That was why she pulled away now. She could see...maybe she'd seen what they'd done to her. Gabrielle had no idea how she'd gotten home, never mind what had happened to her erstwhile kin. She had some hazy recollection of screams...and of being carried. Perhaps it was Xena who'd carried her up to the bedroom...which was probably how she knew...which was why she pulled away...

She'd forced herself to laugh earlier, so she wouldn't start crying, hearing the voice of the one person who she simply could *not* face any more. The argument had been pointless, hilarious in its own right, but all humor had been lost to her since awaking. Only her bone-deep weariness, the millennia she'd survived suddenly crushing her down, and that desperate, primal need to cling to the one thing she actually felt *safe* with had kept Gabrielle in Xena's arms these past days.

But since that first moment she fully woke, Gabrielle knew their time together was done. That kiss had told her volumes: weariness, stress beyond measure, and all limits passed. This last day had been a final gift, she knew. Her presence was a last gesture of concern between a strong woman for a weak one before they parted company. Awaking to the emptiness of the bed beside told her as much. Still, Gabrielle appreciated the gesture, and so mustered her courage to reach out and offer herself to this ebony-haired woman she'd surrendered all of herself for. Her body was all she had left to offer.

Her heart? Her soul? Those were lost to her, stolen and gone forever, though Gabrielle would have willingly surrendered them, too.

But Xena wanted nothing to do with her. She'd said something after admitting it, but Gabrielle herself was too far away to hear or really care what was said.

But she *heard* the tone spoken to her, its power and melody cutting to her very core, forcing her to responded as she *always* had. Even with the unspoken choice offered beneath the words, Gabrielle would have answered the same.

Gabrielle turned, to look one last time upon this ghost of her soul's lost half.

Xena stood there, her black satin slip a puddle of shinning material at her feet. She stood there, nude, her arms a bit from her sides, hands open and palms outwards, as though in supplication.

The instant their eyes met, Xena cast her gaze to the floor, kneeling as she did. Resting her firm buttocks on her heels, Xena looked Gabrielle in the eye and asked "What do you want me to do?"

The silence was deafening, stretching between them like a desert plain of a thousand leagues.

There was nothing in those eyes that held her...save trust and patience. She would do nothing, say nothing...until told to do so. All control was in her hands and voice now.

The realization alone filled her with awareness of Xena's presence before, and nearly undid her fragile control.

How tempting it was to take out all her *rage* upon this strong woman who knelt before her. The thought of *hurting* her...as she had been *hurt*...of using her and punishing her and...breaking her...

Gabrielle became moist and aroused by these thoughts, her fangs extending from her arousal, her skin and core flushed from the very thought of a broken and pleading Xena..."Please," she would beg... eventually, "No more"...laying at her feet in her own blood and cum... afraid to look up...tears washing her face...tears of *fear*...

...the mental sight of which turned Gabrielle cold, leaving her shaken and disgusted with herself. How *dare* she even dream of such things. Hadn't Illusia taught her anything? Or Nor'Kapp? Or Solon and Hope? Hadn't she suffered enough to be more than...*them*...?

She stood, letting her own slip fall away. Xena had given her control, surrendering herself as she had tried to...but for all the *right* reasons, where her's had been for the wrong ones. She'd be damned if she'd abuse this gift given in love and trust.

Gabrielle couldn't keep her hands from opening and clenching at her sides as she stood there, as bare as Xena herself, this marking her uncertainty and fear. She owed her love this moment of vulnerability; owed her more than could ever be repaid...not that she wouldn't try. With a conscious effort, Gabrielle stilled her hands, and took a single step forward.

Xena was sure to smell her musk, her pubic thatch easily level with her nose. Gabrielle could feel the tall woman's forced stillness, and the fire trembling behind it. She closed her eyes and basked in this sensual heat, her neck reclining slightly as it washed over her... through her...setting her aflame once more...

"Take me." Was it with voice or only thought that she said the words? Gabrielle would never be certain. Nor did she care.

The world narrowed down to the powerful arms which wrapped about her hips and back...arms which lifted one leg and set it across a broad and steady shoulder...and the soft, knowing lips which kissed and licked and tickled and teased and nipped and took her away from the memories... slowly teasing her higher and higher...oh so higher and higher...to that glorious place where she'd melt gods please don't stop don't stop don't stop...promising and teasing and taunting and taking her to the edge... keeping her at the edge...oh...

"...gods..." Gabrielle heard her weak voice raise in desperation. "Oh gods...oh gods...ohgodsohgodsohgodsohgodsohgodsohgodsohgodsssssssss..." She could say no more...every muscle clenching tight...those lips giving her no rest...her entire being exploding into Xena's open and ready mouth...not an inch of her able to be still...

A wail, stronger than a score of Banshees might manage, filled the room and her frail body. And still those glorious, mighty arms wouldn't release her. Gabrielle felt silken threads of midnight hair become tangled in her fingers...fingers that couldn't help but tighten and grip and pull at those long and soft locks...she would fly apart if she let go...

And when this sensual storm passed, it took all strength with it. Only those arms, strong as granite, gentle as a morning's breeze, only they held her upright. Gabrielle would have spoken words of love, of devotion, of worship and servitude had she the voice. She could not even murmur the least sound of thanks as Xena gathered her up and carried her to the bed once more.

Distantly, Gabrielle would wondered if it was but a dream that she lay beside a body so strong and powerful, whose feather-light hands stroked and brushed against her cooling skin in patterns complex and soothing. It was an idle thought, for too soon the darkness claimed her, taking her beyond dreams and memories both good and ill. Leaving her in that place where there is only tranquil and eternal peace.

******

Xena waited for some time after Gabrielle's breathing calmed and stilled before daring to move. Only the sounds of her own breath disturbed the silent air as she pulled on clothes and fairly crept from the bedroom. There was much for her to do before her bard awoke...

Again, her muscles rebelled against her chosen course, aching to return to the bed and to Gabrielle's now empty arms. Again, Xena marshaled her will and continued on her chosen course, but not without a last look to the bed, tears threatening and silent words of love tumbling from her lips.

As silently as she wept, so too did the door close behind her, cutting her away from the late morning's light and the glorious sight it lit.