"Story Time" is copyright © 1997 by Morgan MacLeod, all rights reserved. Do not distribute, archive, or repost without prior permission from the author.

Xena and Gabrielle belong to MCA/Renaissance Pictures. Some characters herein are also based on situations belonging to Paramount. All these characters are used here in a strictly non-profit manner, and their appearance is in no way intended to infringe on the trademarks of MCA, Renaissance Pictures, or Paramount.

"It's your watch," whispered Rillian. "I'll wait by the fire til you're up and dressed." She retreated towards the wide mouth of the cave, as Xena quietly rose and reached for her leathers. It was only the work of a few minutes to pull on her armour. As she crept quietly past the sleeping Gabrielle, she paused. The slow, rhythmic rise and fall of her breast as she slept told Xena that Gabrielle was deeply asleep, the softness in her face and the gentle curve of her lips, that she was sleeping well. Xena smiled. It was a relief to see her slumbering so peacefully. Gabrielle, like Xena herself, had troubled dreams after the return of Callisto and the nightmare she had plunged them into.

Still smiling, Xena walked out toward the fire. Rillian was bent over a pot on the fire. "I made another pot of chi-ka, stronger this time. If you don't want any, just set it aside, It'll reheat well in the morning."

"A little later, perhaps." She looked out into the blackness of the mid night sky. "Rain's stopped."

"It blew over a couple hours ago. Looks like better weather for travelling."

"Couldn't be worse." She looked back at the other woman. "Better get some sleep. I'll wake you both at sunrise."

Rillian nodded and headed towards her own blankets, sliding into them with a quick motion and curling up at once. After a quick check on Argo, Xena visited the neat trench Rillian had dug beyond the sheltering boulders, and then, in much greater comfort, went back to the fire and helped herself to a drink. By now fully alert, she leaned back against the rock face and stared out into the dark, absently sipping from the mug as she did so.

The warrior in her urged her to think about plans, and strategies, and tactics in preparation for the creature from her past which she feared they would all soon face. But a voice from far deeper within was telling her that more important than these things, which were after all almost instinct to her now, she needed to think about what had been happening to her, to Gabrielle, to them both, in recent months.

Recent months, indeed. It was so hard to realise that less than two years ago she had been plotting the death of Hercules, to cement her reputation as the greatest warlord of all time. At times it was almost impossible to even remember how that woman had thought, or felt. So much had changed since then. If Hercules had helped set her on this road to redemption she struggled to walk every day, Gabrielle had kept her on it, kept her from falling back into the darkness. Oh, the anger was still there, and the lust for vengeance that first started her down the path to Tartarus' gates. Perhaps they would always be there. But she could control them now, use them, subjugate them to good ends. She would not let them take her over again.

Gabrielle was the key to so much of what had happened to her. It was Gabrielle's faith and trust, and basic goodness that had pulled her back from the abyss whenever it beckoned her. Only once had that goodness failed them, when Gabrielle herself had sent her out after the fleeing Callisto, crying for vengeance. Xena wondered, if it had been Gabrielle beside that quicksand, what would she have done? She had spared Callisto once before that day, when she walked into her camp and found her sleeping. Would she have spared her again?

Spared her as she, Xena, had not. She had stood there, torn between the need to avenge the heartwound dealt to Gabrielle, and the small still voice that told her it was one thing to kill cleanly in battle, and another, far different thing, to stand by and let your enemy die a lingering death. But she had done just that. She had sat there, and watched Callisto drown in the sand, knowing as she did that what she did was wrong.

Well, at least that was all behind her now. She had exorcised that ghost. What she could not put behind her was the wrenching pain she had carried in her heart since that night when, in the midst of flames and ringing steel and war cries, Gabrielle had flung at her the fiercest blow she had ever been dealt in all her years of battle. The night when Gabrielle had turned from her to Perdicas, crying out that her answer to his plaint was "Yes".

As the familiar ache descended on her again, she stood, and stepped out into the night, away from the fire. She collected a few of the branches that lay drying under the edge of the makeshift roof, and carried them back to build up the fire. But her thoughts would not be disciplined.

When had she fallen in love with Gabrielle? At first, the young runaway had seemed little more than a nuisance, one she accepted because it seemed right, somehow, that someone whose life she had changed for good, and not for ill, should walk beside her, reminding her of what she strove to do with the remainder of her life. Someone who could remind her of what might have been for her, had Cortise and Caesar and all the other reasons to kill not come between the girl that was and the woman she had become. But Gabrielle had been, was, so much more than that. So quickly she had become companion, and then friend, and then comrade-in-arms, the like of which she had never known before. And somehow she had also become the examiner of her conscience, and now the keeper of her heart as well.

She knew to the second when she had realised it, that terrible instant in the Temple of Aesclepius when she thought that she had lost her forever. But of the moment when friendship first had blossomed into love, she had not the slightest recollection, so slowly and quietly had it come upon her.

And once she knew her feelings, she had been at such a loss over what to do about it. It surprised her, for she'd never been the hesitant lover before, with man or woman. But with Gabrielle, everything was different. She had been afraid that if she pressed her suit too soon, she might frighten one so innocent. So she had waited, and watched, and tried to guess from the younger woman's words and actions whether it seemed that Gabrielle might indeed return her affections in some fashion. Sometimes she saw signs that seemed to speak with a thousand voices that yes, Gabrielle cared for her, returned her growing love, and when that happened her heart sang with a fierce and jubilant rhythm. But then Gabrielle would shift and change like quicksilver, and seem to be on the verge of handing her heart to another, and the blood would freeze in her veins.

And then she had turned away and given that precious heart to Perdicas. And Xena had found that some fragile part of her she had scarcely known existed had turned to ice. She did not think that she would ever be warm again.

With a bitter oath, she left her place of comfort by the fire once more and walked out to gauge the time of night. A soft, anxious whicker from Argo diverted her, and she headed over to soothe her. "It's all right, Argo," she whispered. "I'll be fine." She stroked the horse's neck, and then fumbled in the saddlebag she'd left there for a crumb of the honey and oatcake treats that Argo loved. "There you are girl." The horse took it eagerly from her fingers. "It's getting drier out there now. Do you want to go get yourself some grass, girl? Easy now, I'll take you down off this rocky spot, and you can graze down in that little hollow til it's time for us to head out." She loosed the long rein she'd tied Argo on earlier, and led Argo toward the small patch of pasture below the rocky outcropping on which was built the camp. Within minutes the sturdy horse was nosing out the rain-dampened and succulent grasses that would serve as her morning meal, while Xena kept her eye on the shelter where Gabrielle and Rillian slept from her perch on a fallen tree trunk.

Such a foolish idea, that she would be gifted with such love as Gabrielle had to give. She'd done nothing to deserve it. She might spent the rest of her life redeeming herself, and still not have done enough to deserve it. She should be content that she had Gabrielle for a friend, and a companion, and a moral compass on her path.

Xena sat, listening to her horse graze contentedly, and watching the approaches to the shelter until the first glimmerings of dawn began to show in the eastern sky. As the darkness slowly turned to grey, she headed back up to the cleft to begin breakfast preparations before the others woke. The fire had burned down to embers, but the last of the dried branches sufficed to build it again. Once the fire was burning well, she added some water to the pot of cool chi-ka Rillian had left out the night before, and taking some meal and honey from her saddlebag, mixed a batch of sweetcakes and laid them on a flat stone set at the edge of the fire to cook. Then she went back into the rear of the cleft to wake Gabrielle and Rillian.

Rillian woke at the sound of her approach. The woman stretched like a cat, and then rose and wandered out beyond the cave to greet the morning. Xena crouched beside Gabrielle, who lay scrunched up in her blankets like a child, and shook her lightly. "Morning, Gabrielle."

A soft, unconscious murmur was the only response, as Gabrielle remained deep in repose. It was another of the differences between them, one that underscored the distance between warrior and bard. Xena could sleep anywhere, at any time, though she preferred early rising, and would wake to full alertness at the slightest unexpected sound. Gabrielle had a marked preference for the late hours of the evening, and sometimes needed a sound shaking to awaken. Xena shook her shoulder again.

"Uhm," she muttered, as, still asleep, she turned in her blankets towards the hand that had touched her, like a flower unfolding toward the sun. The open innocence in her face, the languor of her barely conscious movements, filled Xena with such fierce longing that it was all she could to keep herself from sweeping her beloved into her arms and showering her with kisses. She drove down her desire.

"Gabrielle. Time to wake up." Xena spoke, and shook her companion a little more strongly. "Gabrielle. Breakfast."

"Breakfast?" Her eyes opened. "Xena, did you say breakfast?"

"Sweetcakes and more of Rillian's chi-ka drink."

"Oh good." Gabrielle sat up, and squinted at the morning light which had begun to shine into the shelter. "It's stopped raining?"

"Yeah. Sun's almost up, good day for travel." Xena rose to her full height again and walked back to the fire, ignoring the agonising ache that clutched at her heart.

Rillian had taken over the breakfast duties, and handed Xena a mug as she came up beside her. Xena took a long draught from the mug. "This stuff grows on you," she remarked, smiling wryly.

"I'll miss it when my supplies finally run out," she agreed. "It won't grow around here."

"Pity." Xena set down the mug. "You and Gabrielle start breakfast. I want to get a look at where we are. I'll be back." Stepping out into the growing sunlight, she looked down the hill first, to assure herself that Argo was in not trouble, and then turned around to look at the rock formation that had given them shelter through the night. Once it might have been one huge and solid mass of stone, jutting out from the rocky ground beneath her. Age, or some more violent action, had shaken it into great pieces, lying tumbled up against each other in a pile. Eyeing the quickest path of ascent, she clambered up to the highest point, and looked around her.

The night before, they had climbed well out of the valley and into the foothills, almost completely above the forest, which fell away beneath her to the east like a thick green rug. Far off she saw faint tendrils of smoke rising from the chimneys of Tirente. Stretching into the distance to both north and south, were rugged hills, spotted with rock formations like the one on which she now stood, and lightly covered with hardy scrub trees and bushes. Turning around she saw the mountains rise before her, their sheer stone faces shining in the morning sun. Almost due west of where they stood, the imposing barrier of rock was broken by a pass that led across the highlands toward the sea. She allowed herself a moment of pride in her tracking ability, that even in the rain and dark she had held so near to the direction she remembered. She looked closely at what her present vantage revealed of the land between their position and the pass, and then scrambled down the rockface, and walked toward the camp.

She could hear Gabrielle's voice as she rounded the rocks and reached the mouth of the crevice"...and since he's blind, it doesn't even help him if others do write down what he's composed, but if you go south, you must hear his tale of the fall of Troy. It's maybe the best thing I've ever heard."

"I'll make a point of it," Rillian responded.

Xena sat crosslegged beside the fire in one fluid movement, and swiped one of the sweetcakes from the stone griddle she had improvised. "How he can write the definitive story of Troy? He wasn't even there."

"Sometimes a story can be true in essence even if the details are off. And besides, he talked to a lot of the people involved about it." Gabrielle handed Xena her mug, refilled.

"Didn't talk to me." She took a sip.

"You don't have to talk to everyone. A poem doesn't have to tell all the truths, only some of them. I could write your version of what happened at Troy, and it would compliment his poems, not contradict them."

Xena shrugged. "The pass we want is due west from here. We can make the mouth of it before nightfall if we get started soon. I remember a cave we can use for a campsite." She reached for the last of the cakes.

"Well, we'd better get moving, then," Rillian smiled, standing and starting to dismantle the screens that had served as shelter during the night, stripping the cloths from the roof panels.

"You're set on coming with us?"

"As long as no one minds, yes. I like adventures."

"We'll see."

While Rillian packed her gear, and Gabrielle did the same for her own and Xena's, Xena saddled Argo, and then fastened not only their own bedrolls and her saddlebags, but Rillian's large pack as well on Argo's back. Gabrielle as always carried her leather satchel slung from her shoulder, and Rillian carried a small pack strapped around her waist. While Rillian made a last quick survey of the campsite to ensure nothing had been left unpacked, Xena scattered and quenched the embers of their fire. Then she took Argo's lead and headed back towards the rough trail that would take them straight to the pass.

Rillian and Gabrielle followed, Gabrielle with her staff in hand. Fragments of conversation floated up to her, and occasional fits of laughter. They seemed to be having some manner of storytelling contest with each other, from what Xena could tell, for at least half of what Gabrielle was saying seemed familiar. Then Xena cringed. In a clear, firm voice from behind her came that unmistakeable refrain "I sing of Perdicas, the boy I knew, the man I loved..."

Xena turned her head to glance over her shoulder, saying sharply, "I'm going to ride on ahead for a while. Keep your eyes peeled for any trouble." Without another word, she leapt into the saddle and urged Argo ahead.

Gabrielle and Rillian stood for a moment, then turned to each other. "What was that about?" asked Rillian.

"Like I said, Xena's a pretty complex person." Gabrielle began walking again, Rillian keeping step.

"I almost had the feeling that she didn't want to hear the song you were about to sing."

"Well, I can understand that. It gets into things that were very painful for both of us. I guess sometimes she doesn't want to be reminded about it. But this song is something that I just have to work on, until I get it just right."

"Well, then sing it for me."

Gabrielle began again, telling the story of Perdicas, his upbringing and the times they had shared as children, of his exploits in war, and his determination to give up the sword and find peace in the arms of his beloved childhood sweetheart. She sang of his death at the hands of Callisto, and of the vengeance taken on Callisto for that death, and how the cycle of violence had bred yet more suffering until the gods themselves had finally set things right again. After she finished, Gabrielle waited impatiently for any comment from her audience. But Rillian remained quiet. Finally, Gabrielle could no longer endure the silence. "You don't like it."

"Oh no, that's not it at all." Rillian paused for a moment, then continued thoughtfully. "It's a very powerful song, and you use every element in it effectively. It's a fine memorial, and a good teaching song, as well. I just don't understand."

"What don't you understand?"

"Why did you marry him when even I can tell after just one day that Xena's the one you love?"

Gabrielle stopped in her tracks. "What...I don't know what you mean."

"Well, you do love her, don't you?"

"What makes you... I mean, well... yes, but... I told you before, I don't think she needs or even wants anyone that way, not now, at least."

"What makes you think that?"

"She's got so much happening inside of her to deal with, I don't think there's anything left over to deal with...love. She has all these other things to take care of. Things like this trip we're on, to try and make up for things in the past, for first making a mistake, and then ignoring it when she had the chance to fix it. I don't know when she'll have room in her life for a lover." Gabrielle turned away from the other woman, and began to walk.

Rillian caught up to her in a few quick steps. "And?"

"And what?"

"And I can tell an incomplete thought when I hear it."

"You don't play fair, do you?"

"Storytelling is about emotional truth. You can't create it for others if you can't face it yourself."

"All right. I don't know when Xena will have room in her life for a lover - if she ever does. And even if she does, I'm not sure that I'd be her choice for that lover. All the others that I know of have been warriors, and while I can take care of myself, I'm no warrior. Maybe we're too different, at least for her."

"And so you married someone else you didn't love because the one you do love doesn't seem interested?"

"It was a lot more complicated than that. He loved me. He needed me. I thought it was the best thing for all three of us. But it turned out to be a very bad decision, and not just because it got an innocent man, a friend, killed. But it taught me a few things. I won't leave her again, at least not as long as she wants me around. Just being her friend is enough. It's more than being married to anyone else."

"You know, Gabrielle, I think you may be a very complex person too. And both of you may end up regretting it." Rillian paused for a moment as they walked along, picking their footing carefully amidst broken rock and lingering patches of damp earth. "Now, since we're telling sad tales, let me tell you the story of Deirdre of the Sorrows. I heard this tale far away north of here, in the Tin Isles, as they are known to the sailors that trade there."

They walked alone for the rest of the afternoon, though from time to time Gabrielle pointed out clear signs that Xena had been along the trail before them, and left markers to tell them they were still on the path. Though with the twin mountains framing the pass towering over them to guide their steps, it would be difficult to have wandered far from the set direction. As the day wore on, the land grew rockier and more rugged, and the path they followed steeper, until at last they stood in early evening shadow upon the knees of the mountain range, looking up into the pass that led between the two giants.

A pile of stones to the left of the path told Gabrielle the direction Xena had taken in setting up camp. "This way."

Rillian peered along the cliff. "There, partly hidden behind those scrub trees. There's the cave."

As they drew nearer, Xena appeared in the mouth of the cave, and walked towards them, grinning and holding a brace of plump, freshly plucked birds in her free hand. "Dinner, anyone?"

Gabrielle nodded. "I could eat a mountain goat, but that'll do."

"There's a little spring just on the other side of that rock spur. You can wash up, if you want. I've had my swim, so I'll cook tonight."

It was almost dark when the two women returned, dripping wet, to the cave. There they were welcomed with warm blankets and the savoury smell of roasting fowl. "Dinner's almost ready", Xena announced.

Rillian and Gabrielle looked around. The cave was large and dry, consisting of a large chamber with a chimney hole for smoke in the ceiling, and several smaller alcoves. There was room to spare for all and Argo too. A large fire burned off to one side of the main chamber, in the centre of a circle of low, hummock-shaped stones. In the alcove nearest the fire, Xena had set the bedrolls and blankets out to air. The large waterskin that normally hung from her saddle was full and set against the cavern wall where all could help themselves to water, firewood for the night had been gathered, and not only roast fowl but a selection of wild tubers had been harvested and roasted along with the birds. Gladly they joined Xena by the fire, and eagerly snatched at the disjointed pieces of meat and the roasted vegetables, quickly assuaging the hunger of a long day's march over hard terrain.

"You've been busy," Rillian remarked.

"You two were having such a pleasant chat, and Argo wanted a good run. And once I found this place, it seemed pointless to go back just to tell you it was here."

"This is almost as nice as an inn," Gabrielle said, between mouthfuls.

Xena smiled. "Well, we won't find much in the way of shelter up in the pass, so we may as well enjoy ourselves as best we can tonight."

After dinner, the discussion turned to further considerations of what they might find once they began the trek across the mountains. "I don't know how far the beast might range," Xena told them. I know we first saw it a day and a half's march into the pass. So from here on, we stick together. And keep watch overhead."

"Do you think it's full size yet?" asked Rillian.

"Don't know. But I'm sure we'll find out soon enough." She stood up. "The cave's well hidden from the outside, and there's no animal sign in here. I think we can do without posting watch tonight."

"Makes sense," said Gabrielle. "Sleep well now, because we'll have to be on our guard from here on, right?"

"Right. I'm taking Argo to the spring for a drink. You two can clean up." She slung the spare waterskin over her shoulder and led the horse out of the cave.

When she returned, they were scouring the dishes with sand from the cavern floor, and arguing the proper meter for love poetry. Xena settled Argo for the night in her own section of the cave, left some grasses on the ground, emptied one waterskin into a depression in the stone, and then went to her bedroll. As she stripped for sleep, she could hear Gabrielle and Rillian talking softly, but she shut out the sounds and wrapped her blankets around her. To her relief, just as she fell asleep, the familiar sounds of Gabrielle preparing for bed not far from her came to her ears, and soon afterward, the cavern was quiet save for the sounds of horse and women breathing.