The following is a bit of alternative fiction based on certain characters from the Xenaverse. It is not meant to infringe on anyone else's rights.
It's amazing what a little change in scenery can do for the mind. Dr. Janice Covington couldn't help but look around the camp as she and her tall, dark companion were marched through it. Hungrily the archeologist took in the sights and sounds. She hadn't felt this excited in years. Despite the faint alcohol buzz still making things fuzzy around the edges the unbelievably complex illusion of many bared swords and axes and whatnot being waved around felt highly in focus, almost surreally so.
In her estimation, these people had gone all out in trying to recreate a first century BC Grecian war-camp. Maybe they'd read her work somewhere ...Poukeepsie's work...their...work...A small twitch of the lip was the only indication of the familiar jolt of guilt approaching. Janice nipped the thought where it was.
She could always come back to it later.
She had before.
Meanwhile...
The wild-looking blonde...well, they were both wild looking, weren't they? Not bad looking, either...
Janice assessed them with an eye newly appreciative of the allure of the feminine sex. It hadn't been so very long that she'd come out to herself about her ambiguous preferences and to the local lesbian bars. It had been what...two years now, officially? Such action was her first tentative bow to self honesty. A brief image of her first female lover flickered across her mind, too hazy to pin the details down, other than the fact she was tall...and dark-haired...and not Melinda. A fun bedtime romp in the security of having a previous male lover as company.
What had she said under the auspices of the drugs and a compulsion for companionship? A lie for a truth? "I'll try anything once..."
It had been explosive for her.
Not the orgasm. That had been typical. No surprises.
No. Just..that there were possibilities that she hadn't allowed. Had refused to see. Had deliberately...avoided.
And they opened up just like that. Her life had changed instantly. Bringing with it the full weight and responsibility of regret. She'd never thought to have another chance...
It had been beyond a surprise when a certain brunette with a Dixie accent, a body full of attitude and history between them had stepped into one of the lesser known and seedier bars. The Lavender Axe had been frequented by Janice specifically to avoid such an occasion, since the professor KNEW Melinda Pappas would never enter such a joint. She was too high class for that. Melinda would Never..never..but apparently the Bond Movie was right.
Janice couldn't really blame the wealthy woman for being so completely angry after catching sight of the professor. For a brief second or two the archeology specialist let her soul settle on the heat of that notion for a moment. Anger did not exactly describe it. Hurt Rage? Righteous Indignation? Towering fit of Jealousy? (Those poor women hadn't stood a chance.)
Then *SHE* showed up and grabbed them both....
Jan brought herself (almost) sharply into focus. Now was not the time for introspection, as accustomed to it as she was becoming. Besides, she really needed a drink on hand for that. Medicinal. Sometimes it was good to numb the edges a little.
Whatever the case... Now was the time to focus and prepare. Janice skimmed a quick look in Melinda's direction, noticing that the tall woman had lost her drunken wobble. Nothing quite as sobering as undiluted interupted anger. If they were lucky they might just make it out of this alive and then she'd let Melinda have her hide...and whatever else she wanted...
Jan turned her attention back to matters at hand and tuned out everything else, *especially* the woman at her back. She concentrated on taking in as many details of the camp and people as she could. Okay, back to the good looking blonde.
The one with the sword and leather, the one Jan could have sworn she'd seen back on the campus a lifetime ago, was doing the leading. The other one, the one with curly hair and who'd given to their kidnapper some lip, which resulted in her being tossed clean across the clearing, brought up the rear. The curly-haired woman, she was somewhat glad to see, had taken a moment to cover herself with a linen robe though she personally thought the sword and whip were a bit much. Granted things were looking a tad more chaotic than she'd expect a war-camp of this period to be. In fact, she was beginning to wonder if they were even in a war-camp at all and not some nutcase nudist colony. Sure, warriors of this day fought in the nude as often as they might wearing armor. The Spartans were clever enough to encourage their troops to form up intimate relationships just so they'd fight harder for each other. But it seemed like these people were having some sort of sexual Mardi Gras before battle.
Years of her own boozy debauchery caused her to refrain from actual comment about the nature of the games being played in public. While she'd never been into kink of the painful kind, that didn't mean she hadn't taken her own risks. It wasn't the public sex that bothered her. It was the historical incongruencies. Was there some sort of ritual she hadn't known about? Did Poughkeepsie know about this and fail to share?
The sheer number of women running around, for one thing, kind of flew in the face of what Jan understood about chauvinistic Greece. Then there was the blue aura, like St. Elmo's Fire, which had begun to radiate around their captor. It could have been an optical illusion, like the two ladies back there with the horse that didn't exactly *look* like a horse. Could have been, but for some reason Jan doubted it. Just like she doubted that was really a horse back there. Right at this moment, Centaurs were as believable as anything else.
Janice Covington found herself wishing she had a good stiff bourbon right at hand right then. Or maybe a shot of Ecstasy, so she'd have *something* to pin the blame on about feeling discombobulated. Nevertheless she gamely marched past scenes both perverse and eye-catching, sticking close to the now unfortunately sober Pappas without getting *too* close. She still wasn't sure just how ...hot Melinda was still feeling. For all she knew that fierce glassy eyed look could be disguising one vicious uppercut ready for a certain archeologist.
When she could, Janice kept a careful watch on the blonde behind them and tried hard to avoid looking anywhere near the one leading them. Even so distracted, the diminutive club-hopper couldn't help notice exactly where they were heading: namely the absolutely largest field tent she'd seen this side of a circus.
Given their surroundings, such a thought seemed perfectly appropriate.
Jan watched as their captor tore aside the entrance flaps aside with such vehemence the sturdy fabric, which had endured season upon season of travel and weather ripped with painful screech. The blonde at their backs visibly winced, as did Mel. Jan herself wasn't sure how to react anymore so her own expression remained one of excruciatingly formal repose. It wasn't that she was anywhere near calm but, after the first great shock of seeing Mel descend vengefully upon her in the Lavender A. and the resulting chaos of being taken by their blonde kidnapper this really wasn't so much of a surprise.
She let herself be prodded into the tent and was less surprised by the opulence than the mix of cultures.
Chinese tapestries inside a Grecian war tent?
A weapons rack with scimitars side-by-side with Roman swords?
A treasure room with jade statues and gold elephants and bronze sphinxes?
The scholar within her furiously scribbled these minute details down upon the easel of memory, even as the curly blonde nearly pierced her in the back with *that* godsbedamned sword.
Their path wasn't nearly as winding as Jan first thought, though it certainly seemed that way, what with all the 'rooms' (several of which she was shoved past before she could glance their way) and multicolored 'walls' they wove through. They arrived at their destination quickly enough: the at once opulent yet spartan bedroom with its *big* bed and utter lack of additional furniture.
The bed was presently occupied by the blue aura'd leatherblonde's twin, a stud about the size of the *real* Conan, and someone napping between them...someone who looked suspiciously like a certain graduate student (who's- name-will-go-unsaid-lest-lightning-strike-in-divine-retribution!) of her acquaintance. All three were stark naked and were aglow. Not literally, like the blonde hellcat, but with the sort of gentle afterglow of being well-loved. It left the former archaeologist and professor at once jealous and wet.
Their captor, by contrast, got mad.
"Get. Off. My. Bed." Each word was a spit between two rows of perfect teeth clenched so tightly one could hear the enamel scrapping.
The twin, who'd been cradling the napper to her, carefully disengaged herself and stood up, the danger in her eyes belaying any calm in her movements. The stud simply sprung to his feet and towered over everyone, muscles clearly tensed and ready for mayhem. Their captor didn't so much as draw her sword, though the blonde shifted her stance to bring her own weapon up at the ready.
The tension in the air was suddenly thick, layers upon layers radiating between the four of them. Jan backed up instinctively, knocking into Mel and wanting desperately to be elsewhere right then.
Her movement attracted the twin's attention, who promptly fixed the both of them with brown eyes that opened *so* wide, Jan was quite sure they'd simply pop out of their sockets. A look of something vaguely related to panic crossed her expression, only to have all expression melt away from those lovely features.
The man was utterly focused on the crazy woman, and so missed it all. He'd taken only one step towards them all when the twin's head snapped to the side, fixing *him* with those huge eyes of her's and raising her open hand. He stopped dead, eyes following the direction shock her head towards, going wide themselves as they settled on the two of them.
"By the gods." he rumbled. Jan felt herself go unexpectedly weak in the knees.
"I think that's the idea, love," the twin said in reply. Both the dark-haired, muscular male and the twin relaxed themselves, apparently with some effort, as ...(what had the curly blonde called her? Xena) Xena approached the bed. She deliberately invaded her twin's personal space, glaring at her. The twin simply met the stare head on, her own expression bland and blank as stone. This only irritated the leather-clad vision more, and she stalked away, eyes now fixed on the reclining woman behind them.
Jan let herself study the sleeper a little closer, if only to distract herself form the intense pair of eyes on her now. She didn't know the woman, though god knew she looked familiar enough. Again, Jan thought she reminded her of a former student. Damned if the face weren't vaguely familiar. Only this wasn't *the* face. A kissing cousin of her's, perhaps. It just looked so...healthy...happy...two words she'd never associated with the original.
There was evidentially some history with Xena, who quite unceremoniously marched over and delivered a rather vicious backhand to the reclining woman, all while screaming "WAKEY-WAKEY!"
The sleeper opened luminous drowsy and unfocused gray eyes. They settled on Xena and an unexpectedly wide smile broke out even as she was grasped by the shoulders and hauled, not at all gently, into a kneeling position which brought them level. "Cal-lee!" she slurred, Jan recognizing her voice, disbelieved her ears. "I missed you."
Bernice-not-Bernice followed these words by pressing herself forward and hitting their captor with a lip-lock so deep, Jan was sure she could hear teeth grinding. It was the most shocking and mind-numbingly arousing thing the former archaeologist had ever seen. Her own toes curled inside her boots at the sight.
Jan watched as Xena resisted for all of a breath, then sank into the kiss and wrapped her arms tightly around the woman. For a moment she was lost and soothed and nurtured. There was a palpable gentling in the air around them. Then, as if some warning bell had gone off, (Or maybe it was that curly blonde's attention getting scream of "XENA!") Xena's eyes flew open. Savagely she tore herself from Not-Bernice's embrace. "Get Away from me!" Xena shouted as she stepped back and wiped her mouth. Her eyes contained a gamut of emotions. Desire, Need, Anger...and Fear.
The archeologist spared a quick surreptitious glance in Melinda's direction. Damn her for choosing today of all days...One day before or ..after...could have made the difference and now they both faced peril. Despite everything, Jan would have preferred to spare the Mel this.
Not-Bernice blinked sleepily at Xena, still not wary enough to register her danger. "Cal? Is there something wrong" The sleeper's expression softened to one of compassionate lust. Then she made the mistake of reaching out.
Xena was facing an uncontrollable danger to her worldview, the archeologist intuited. So their captor reacted instantly. It didn't matter that there was no true .."danger," except for maybe a few hours of distraction. Xena obviously wasn't prepared to find out any more than what had disturbed her. Janice experienced a brief premonition and called out a warning.
But it was too late.
The brutal defensive slap proved enough to throw the sleeper completely off the bed, landing her in the far corner in a less than solid heap of limbs and tangled hair.
"NO!" the twin screamed, pushing past and vaulting over the bed towards the corner. Jan's feet carried her around the bed, finding all eyes present focused there. The blonde reached her unconscious partner just in time to see her literally *sink* into the hard soil beneath her. She was gone within seconds.
"Damn it, NO!" the blonde screamed again, both fists pounding ineffectually on the now-solid earth. With a growl that did an enraged lioness proud, she turned on her leather-clad image. "Xena!" The stud - whose own expression went through a sequence of panic, resignation, and out and out anger - adopted a similar stance, clearly ready to make use of those turkey-sized fists of his.
The kidnapper, expression utterly calm before them, simply drew her sword and held it straight behind her. Its tip hovered unwavering just hairs from Jan's throat. Curly, nearly forgotten to this point, had her's covering Mel's throat.
"Now," the leather-clad goddess said conversationally. "Where were we?"
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İMarch 1999
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