Xena offered no resistance as the Centurions laid her onto the wood. She was numb throughout, and so no longer felt the wind or snow, as was secretly glad for this. It meant she wouldn't last long when they finally got around to doing their business.

She caught a glimpse of gold and crimson in the background, astride a dark warhorse. She refused to grace her lifelong scourge even the smallest glance, focusing instead upon the centurion's shield before her. The Roman moved away, and Xena let her eyes travel to the small form beside her, the too-familiar scene greeting her. Gabrielle's skin had taken a chilled pallor, meaning neither of them would be long for life now, whatever their enemies might do.

She stared deep into those green eyes, seeing no anger or recrimination there. Xena had enough for them both. Still, she said the words as she had been shown, knowing they came from her heart and not simply foreknowledge of this moment. "Gabrielle," her heart croaked through dry lips and ravaged voice.

"You are the best thing in my life."

The bard smiled gently, her own words reaching across the distance.

"I love you Xena."

Neither broke the spell of each other's eyes, even as the Romans placed the first nails at their hands and raised their hammers.

It was Xena, not Gabrielle, who cried out as the first nail was driven in. She'd shut her eyes and howled to the wind, body arching as fiery pain lanced through her arms and down her spine. But her cries and bitter tears were not from the pain or shock, but rather were against the Fates and god.

The second nail was hammered home, bringing with it more pain and the taste of blood in her mouth. She'd bitten her lip in an effort to stifle herself, managing only to break the dry skin and make herself bleed. This actually had a calming effect upon her, waking her to her foolishness. They'd hit upon a plan to ensure they would be together in the afterlife, Gabrielle having passed the Rite of Caste to her a short while back, making Xena her heir and a de facto Amazon. This hopefully placed her beyond Hade's reach and giving her admittance into Eternity.

Xena drank deeply from the well of peace Gabrielle's eyes offered, barely feeling the nail driven into her own ankles, their gaze not breaking even as their crosses were hoisted upright. She couldn't help the grunt from the pain wracking her guts as her body settled into its new position. She used the pain as a goad, to stay awake, relaxing herself and conserving her strength against the cold seeping into her bones.

Soon, it was all Xena could do but wearily hung there, her strength dying with the daylight. Dusk had already begun to fall over the sky, lending a dreamlike quality to the scurrying of the soldiers and falling snow. For a mad half-moment Xena wondered if she were still dreaming her torment at Alti's hands, almost praying that she would wake so she could somehow ensure this all never came to pass. She could kill both Caesar and Pompey in that cave…or make sure she and Gabrielle parted company in India…or she could just fall on her own damn sword and save everyone the trouble...

The slow crushing of her lungs against her ribs, making every breath a new agony, dashed such hopes. Xena clung to them all the same, wondering if the sights and sounds meeting her were anything more than figments of her tired and weakened mind. She focused on these things, some part of her detaching from the pain and watching events unfold beneath her with incredible calm and clarity.

The dozen-odd Romans left to watch their death (clearly Caesar was no longer taking chances with her, wanting plenty of witnesses and guards around her) had ended their loitering and were now running excitedly about, some shouting "Who goes there?" and the like. Or so it seemed at first glance. Some seemed to trip over unseen obstacles, others simply dropping hard into the snow.

It wasn't until one actually flew several bodylengths across the plateau that she could make the cloaked figures who made sport of the Centurions.

There were but four, none visibly armed with either sword or staff or axe, yet they tore through the assembled soldiers as though ten times that number. The skirmish lasted only a few heartbeats, the Romans all laid out, unmoving, in the snow. The four figures, their hoods and heavy capes covering all features, stood there for a moment, surveying the few crosses. After a moment, one towards the center pointed clearly towards her’s. The tallest, heaviest looking one of the bunch quickly made his way over, kneeling at the frame's base, the rest spreading out to the other crosses.

Xena, to that moment only half-convinced she was not dreaming, was jerked to full awareness as the giant began pulling and tugging at the cross's base, apparently testing how deeply it was embedded in the frozen earth. He stood and turned at the approach of the others, throwing off his hood to reveal a wild black hair and beard covering a strong face. She could hear the words exchanged between them as through from a distance despite the vehemence behind each word.

"'Tis buried too deep," the giant declared in fluid Gaelic, Xena only barely catching the words. "Ow'll need t'hack the base bring 'er down."

Another, one slightly shorter than the rest, removed his own hood. He turned cold blue eyes upon her, his long and tangled hair flapping wildly at his shoulders. "Ah say leave 'er. Let the gods judge."

"We dinna abandon our own, Conrac." one of the others said. She identified it as the one who had pointed her out earlier, the one she assumed was the leader.

"She's no' our own, Marc Bron, and ye know it!" This protest was ignored, the leader gesturing to the fourth, who promptly began moving between the unconscious Romans, picking up and examining their various weapons, only to discard each one in turn. Xena judged this one the shortest of the pack, probably the youngest to boot, though their speed obviously compensated for this.

She raised her head, to see if Gabrielle were still conscious. Her bard had slumped back against the frame, her beauty twisted by a pained grimace, a nearly-invisible cloud of her breath forming more and more frequently. Despite the chill already deep in her marrow, Xena felt a new shiver run through her. "Gah…Gabrielle…?" She righted herself, mindless to the sounds and grinding of her bones and joints coming with the effort. Leaning as forward as she could, the fire shooting through both arms and legs making her sweat, she tried again, her dry throat making the words ragged. "Gabrielle…wake up…please…gods…please…" This quickly proved too much, and she could only slump back, the nails in her palms once more pulling hard and making her muscles sing with the pain.

The giant and rest had watched this as if in amazement, though they quickly returned to their respective chores, the small one searching, the giant joining her, and the remaining two resuming their argument.

"Ye cannae believe 'tis her, Marc Bron?" the one named Cormac was bellowing. "Lookit 'er! She's half out of 'er head, an' bleeding like a bloody stuck pig."

Marc Bron seemed unimpressed by this. "Aye, tha' she is," being his only concession. "Remember our wee cousin's last message t'us. She'd had her legs shattered an' still lingered for a full day on."

"Bah!" Cormac snorted. "The slave girl believed anything told 'er."

"And when was she wrong, neh?"

Whatever Cormac's response, it was cut off by the giant's loud call a few bodylengths off. "None o'their blades be enough, Marc Bron." Xena watched as the two returned, the smaller tossing off their hood and to show a young woman, beautiful in her own right, her thick red hair woven into a tight mass of braids. The giant reached into his cloak, drawing out a fierce double-bladed battle axe she remembered seeing used by raiders from the far north.

The giant looked to Marc Bron, as if awaiting approval to use the weapon. "T'will be a danger to 'er, choppin' th' wood," he advised. "I cannae promise t'catch 'er in time."

The still-hooded one was still, his stance shifting slightly to that of deep thought, only the night’s wind giving any movement to his cloak. With a single, sharp nod, he directed "Cormac, ye take the axe an' do it. Caber, be ready t'lower her down."

"Wot o'me?" the woman asked, sounding quite annoyed at being left out.

"Ye stand ready," Marc Bron assured her. "We'll be needin' yer healing hands on her soon enou'."

Cormac made a final protest as he moved to take the axe from the giant's large hand. "I still say we leave 'er fer the gods."

Marc Bron's voice was low and dangerous, the authority there carrying clear through the air. "Cut her down, brother-boy."

Cormac sneered for a moment, then positioned himself. Using both hands, he brought the axe down with such force it sliced deep into the wood, nearly cleaving it through. Xena groaned as the resulting vibrations shook her through, leaving her tasting her own blood and hearing her bones grind together in fragments. She was left with the sensation of falling backwards, her mind already tumbling into that inexorable darkness she'd resist until then. She fell…and fell…and fell…until stopped just above the cold abyss by gentle hands which lowered her to a too-real bed of soft snow.

Xena opened her eyes, expecting Charon's whizzened and twisted visage above her, or Ares' sneering face looking down and caustic words ready on his lips.

There was only the wide, concerned eyes of the woman there, their roaming path cataloguing every line and wound visible. Her hand was warm and soft against the icy skin it touched, leaving Xena shuddering once more, so extreme did the contrast feel.

The woman looked into her eyes, reading her weakness there, the compassion in her own bright green ones reminding Xena so much of Gabrielle. The thought gave her strength enough to try speaking once more. "Gah…Gabrielle…"

This went all but unheard by her would-be rescuers. "'Tis nearly too late fer her," the woman declared. "She cold as ice, an' weak as a babe. Worse, she's bleedin' into her lungs. We're lucky she's not drowned from it yet."

"Nothin' t'be done, then?" Marc Bron asked quietly.

"Nothin' mortal hands can manage, nay."

A wracking cough erupted from Xena's throat, her desperation to make them hear her giving her strength enough to make such noise, the resultant agony in her lung and stomach enough of a goad to focus her drifting thoughts. The woman saw this and leaned down, bringing her ear close. Xena coughed again, this time to clear the air passage enough that she could be understood, and managed to hiss "Gabrielle…cut…down…"

The woman drew back a bit, a puzzled look to her. Xena took this to mean she didn't speak a word of Greek, mentally chiding herself for not realizing the obvious. She tried to speak again, this time in the rough Gaelic she'd acquired while in Eire, only to be thwarted by her bone-dry throat and failing strength.

It proved unnecessary, the woman turning back to Marc Bron and saying "She wants us t'cut down the bard as well." Xena caught movement out of the corner of her eye, with more shouted words and the sound of wood being cleft by the axe. She was too distracted by the healer's words, spoken in clear Greek as the woman leaned close once more. "We'll care for her, I swear before the world." A hand appeared on her shoulder, drawing the healer away. In her place came the hooded one, who now undid the clasp of his cloak and left it fall from his narrow shoulders.

Xena soon lost all sense of time and place, faces once loved and hated with all passion blending before her darkening eyes. Names bubbled and burst as she drowned in the sea of past moments. Even the jolting fire of the nails being pried from her palms and ankles lasted only a heartbeat, the slowing of which warned of Celesta's approach.

The effort to simply raise her head, an unsuccessful effort at that, drained her last drams of strength. Still, she struggled against this, even as Marc Bron draped his cloak over her, its heavy fabric chaffing and irritating her chapped skin. She was helpless against even this small irritation, unable to shift in the slightest beneath it. This did not go unnoticed by the Celt, who brushed sweaty strands from her forehead and said, "Rest now, warrior. Your battle's fought and over with."

In the end, all Xena could manage was a small shudder as the darkness overtook her completely. Her last breath formed a single word, in it lay her life, her redemption, her soul's better half:

"Gabrielle…"

And then…nothing…oblivion swallowing her whole.

Awareness returned slowly, small drams of sensation prickling at the edges, more dream than reality. In time, these coalesced into clear feelings, bringing with them the capacity to distinguish, to remember, and finally to think. Xena took a few moments to assess her situation.

She was laid out on her back, what felt like a heavy fur carpet beneath her, with a another covering her from head to toe. Her sharp ears caught the sound of a knife being sharpened, off-tune humming matching it in counterpoint, and the crackle of a small fire. Going by the low echo, Xena concluded they were in a cave. She'd been unconscious for at least six maybe seven candlemarks, judging by how stiff her muscles were. She pretty much ached all over, though this was quickly forgotten as memory came pouring back in a flood.

With a start, Xena sat up, throwing aside the furs and looking around. She'd been right about the cave, its low roof affording little enough room for them, and the fire, and the knife. Normally she would have first searched for her weapons and taken stock of their provisions. Right then, the sight that greeted her, took the whole of her attention.

Gabrielle was barely two armlengths away, sitting cross-legged on the stoney ground, a large hunting knife in one bandaged hand, a whetstone in the other. She wore a tattered sleeping tunic, barely more than a rag, and nothing else. The work her hands did only seemed to darken the bandages more. It was the look Xena caught on her face, however, which caught her full attention. A look of despair so complete, there seemed nothing else to her. Even the sharpening was an empty act, her arms doing the work mechanically. She had not looked up, nor even glanced towards her, despite the suddenness of the movement.

"Gabrielle?" Xena called quietly, reaching out towards her.

Her bard simply shook her head, still refusing to look up. "It won't work, Xena. Not this time." Her voice was tired beyond measure, a finality to it Xena found terrifying.

She nevertheless forced herself to remain still and keep her voice calm. "What won't work?" she asked, suspecting she already knew.

"You pretending to come back, to talk me out of doing this," Gabrielle said without accusation. "You see, I know you aren't real, because I didn't have any ambrosia this time. So there's no way you could come back. And that means you've probably gone to Tartarus, knowing Hades." Her hands had not paused in their work once as she spoke. She held the blade up for a moment, seemingly fascinated by it, before resuming. "But we'll be together again, I promise."

Xena felt her throat constrict at the implications of her words and actions. "What…what are you going to do?"

To her credit, Gabrielle took a moment to consider her answer. "I'm not really sure just yet." Xena breathed in silent relief. "It will have to be something bloody and awful to make sure I get sent to Tartarus with you. Maybe I'll gut a bunch of orphans, or rape a few Hestian priestesses…" She stopped sharpening the knife again and ran a thumb along the blade, not even flinching as she careless pressed too hard and sliced herself. "I thought about killing your mother, but…I know you wouldn't like that…besides, Cyrene probably wouldn't put up that much of a fight…" The bard shook her head, unaware of the pallor and shudders her words brought to her audience.

"I could always go back to the Amazons and start a war with someone…you know, some pointless bloodbath that's sure to get me killed and disgraced, right?"

Xena found her voice. "Stop it…" But it was a whisper lost in a hurricane.

"Shut…shut up…!"

"Yes, that would definitely work…"

Xena, to that point frozen in shock by the surreal tableau unfolding before her, shook off her paralysis and nearly tackled the small bard, knocking the knife and stone away and seizing her by the shoulders. She roughly shook the grieving woman by the shoulders, punctuating each word. "I! Said! Stop! IT!"

Gabrielle was slow to come out of her misery, and even less willing it seemed to believe who was shaking her so. She turned flat, dead eyes to meet Xena's tear-misted own, only to close them and shake her head. "I told you, Xena. You can't talk me out of this."

"Gabrielle," Xena nearly choked, forcing herself to calm and remain coherent. "Gabrielle, I'm not dead."

This elicited a bitter laugh from the bard. "Oh, of course you aren't. You're heart only stopped dead as a rock and you lost enough blood to leave you white and cold as solid marble. Just a minor inconvenience for the immortal warrior princess!" She pulled away, Xena too shocked by the words to stop her, and curled into a ball, hugging her knees tightly to her chin and showing the warrior her back.

"I can't do it, Xena. Don't you understand that?" Gabrielle began rocking herself, loosing herself once more. "I can't…I won't live without you again…" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Not for a single day…"

It was all Xena could do not to start screaming, which she instinctively knew would accomplish nothing. Neither would more denials, however true she knew them to be or how vehemently she shouted them. Rather, she crept closer to her bard, and reached out once more. With one hand she forced Gabrielle to face her, strong, familiar fingers guiding her chin. With the other, she guided a bandaged hand (nearly coming undone when she felt how moist the linen wrap had become again) to her chest, pressing it there so a strong heartbeat could be felt without doubt.

"Do you feel that?" Xena asked quietly, her calm the perfect facade. "My heart hasn't stopped. My skin isn't cold." She released both hand and chin, her palms cupping the smaller woman's trembling jawline and dipping her head so their lips were but hairs apart. Their breath synchronized, their exhales warm to the other's lips. Xena waited a moment, breathing her love's air, filling her love's lungs with her own, then closed the last distance between them with a single word. "Believe." Gabrielle's lips were rough and chapped against her's, yet the feeling alone was bliss to the warrior, who closed her eyes to better ride the wave of heat and joy to its crest.

When she let go of the bard's face and pulled back, a moment shy of a lifetime later, Gabrielle was shaking hard with silent sobs. It was the bard's hands that then circled her face and pulled her back. It was the bard's cries and tears which mingled between them, her hands roaming freely through pitch locks and across warm skin, unwilling to accept anything other than the proof she could touch and hold. Xena encircled them both with strong arms, keeping her grip loose enough so not to impede her bard's exploration.

Xena kept herself still, her own control barely holding against the images Gabrielle's…plans… had invoked. Gods, but she'd never fully appreciated her bard's gift as that moment.

Suppressing a shudder of her own, the warrior began to move them back to the furs. This proved to be something of a trick as Gabrielle's arms were locked solidly around her, tightening against the slightest tugging. Xena was nothing if not determined, and managed to drag herself and her precious weight to the bedding, maneuvering them into a reasonably comfortable position.

Even as she relaxed with Gabrielle cradled close, Xena resisted sleep, determined not to chance the bard waking before her and jumping to…conclusions.

Once they'd settled, Gabrielle's voice broke the silence. "Xena?" Her words were low and heavy with fatigue, its deadly earnestness carried through clearly.

"If you aren't alive when I wake up…I will kill you."

The warrior had the grace, and good sense, not to laugh at the seeming foolishness of the threat. Rather, she basked in the warmth of the small body she cradled, letting herself relax into a light doze. This ended when something poked directly into elbow, catching her unawares. Only superior conditioning managed to keep her from jostling her bard awake.

Thinking it merely a rock, Xena reached about to push the offending object away, only to be surprised by how easily it came to hand, a smooth metallic feel to it. Bringing it up to the light, squinting hard into the low firelight, Xena could only stare at the small object she clutched in mild shock.

Dangling from a delicate chain was a weaving of two silver bands, arranged into a cross-like pattern without beginning or end.

Again, the name of her once-slave-turned-lover-turned-savior came unbidden to her lips. "M'llia?" With it came the faces and manner of her…of their…rescue, a thousand and one questions she knew the cave walls could not answer for.

It proved too much for her already over-taxed mind to process. She let the pendant fall back unto the furs, and clung harder to Gabrielle, her eyes closing of their own accord.

In time, she too slept, though she made sure (days later) her bard did not wake to disappointment.