All Soul's Night.

Disclaimers in Chapter One. Warning: More angst on the horizon. Deploy hanky reserves NOW!

Xena and Gabrielle spent much of the rest of the day alternately seeking and shunning one another's company.

Xena was in rather good spirits when she came in from her run, bouncing and rebounding as though an emotional racquet ball. The rest of her was simply along for the ride...a ride she intended to pull to a stop only once she had a certain small redhead in her arms once more.

The redhead in question was only just coming up from her errand to the basement, where she'd fled the minute Xena was out the door. None of the staff had seen her head down, and so were a tad confused at Xena's inquiry of her whereabouts. Even Madrigail, who saw all and whom nothing escaped, was momentarily stumped.

When Xena looked in their bedroom a second time (the first having yielded no luck), she was pleased to see her target busily going through one of their voluminous wardrobes. Approaching with all the grace of a jungle cat stalking its meal, her runners making no sound on the thick carpet underfoot, Xena was soon behind the redhead, intent on enjoying this moment.

It was short-lived.

Instead of melting back into the arms which suddenly encircled her waist, as she normally would, Gabrielle gave a panicked yell and drove a very strong elbow into her attacker's midsection. Xena could only roll with the blow, expelling a *very* pained breath as she tumbled back. It never ceased to amaze her just how strong her lover was, given her deceptively delicate build and gentle appearance. Right then, she wished Gabrielle was what she normally appeared as.

The redhead essentially screaming at her didn't help her recovery much. "What are you thinking?!? I could have..."

"And a good morning to you too," Xena managed to huff, wincing as much at the tone her badly-in-need-of-a-full-breath voice took as the discomfort of her abused abdomen.

"Damn it, Xena!" Gabrielle exploded, then calmed herself. "You scared me."

*This* brought Xena up short, causing her to look up sharply as she clamored to her feet. "Excuse me?"

"You..." Gabrielle began, only to be overrun by Xena's voice.

"I *scared* you? Since when are you the nervous type?" Between the pain, the surprise, and a sudden defensiveness she couldn't identify, Xena's voice took a tone somewhere between incredulous and outrightly sarcastic.

Gabrielle's mouth became a firm line, the sort normally reserved *only* for those who slighted Xena in some way. 'Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!' chanted in the latter's head. Hoping to forestall the coming explosion, Xena to a quick step forward, arms opening and as placating a grin as she could manage, intent upon kissing that dangerous frown away.

But Gabrielle would have none of it just then, a single hand coming up and silently (and imperiously) commanding "Halt." Xena obeyed, willing to endure whatever tirade Gabrielle's anger might prompt.

No such tirade was coming, however. Xena found herself becoming all the more nervous for the silence which started to stretch between them. She soon found herself biting her upper lip, the chill in Gabrielle's eyes sucking the heat from the room about them.

Obviously unable to look at her another second, Gabrielle marched around Xena and out of their bedroom. Xena watched her go with some relief, and something akin to anger slowly igniting in her own breast.

A fire that caught first spark when she realized Gabrielle had be removing suits and dresses from *her* wardrobe.

For her part, Gabrielle was in turmoil. Xena's sneaking up on her was an old game of theirs, this time no more shocking than the last. What was shocking here was her reaction this time, particularly stopping the kiss Xena had so clearly telegraphed. And the fact she had yet to reign in this uncharacteristic temper she was going through left her even more disturbed. Ironically, this in turn stoked her temper to the point she was *very* close to letting loose on Xena again.

The only solution, since she couldn't trust her voice with anything save grunts more worthy of primates than of demigoddesses, was to get as far away from Xena as possible before something *was* said. Something doing irreparable harm.

She blindly found her way into Marcous' office and grabbed the first thing she could. In this case, the market figures from the previous week. She quickly lost herself in the meaningless columns of numbers, willing the anger away and praying to Artemis (she seemed to be doing that a good deal this morning) this would pass soon.

They didn't see nor seek each other out until lunch, both yielding to their growling stomachs at the same time. They met in the kitchen, catching eyes and attempting to speak at the same time. Gabrielle had by this time calmed herself to where she felt it safe to talk with Xena again. Xena, by contrast, was an exposed nerve-ending.

Gabrielle had an orange in her hand. Xena's were clenched into white-knuckled balls of bone and tension.

"Xena, I'm..."

"Gabrielle, what..."

Gabrielle giggled, but sobered when she saw the unamused expression creasing Xena's face. Still, she couldn't help the grin which stayed. This only fueled Xena's already burning irritation, and her eyes communicated this very clearly.

"I'm sorry," Gabrielle blurted.

"You should be." The harshness of Xena's tone, something at once familiar and alien, caught Gabrielle short. Her grin faded, astonished shock taking its place, asking the question her deserted voice couldn't.

"If you don't trust me with the wardrobe, perhaps you should check your bank accounts...though I suppose that's what you and dear old Peter were doing all morning!"

Gabrielle needed a moment...several minutes actually...to digest and process this. Even when it did actually sink in, she needed a minute more to ensure she'd *heard* it correctly. It was her bardic talents and training operating in reverse: she twisted and turned the words every which way, desperately attempting to *avoid* the blatant and unavoidable meaning of them. Said meaning as much communicated by bitter scowl and wrinkled brow as by Xena's utterance.

Gabrielle could only blink once, once again, and once again before she found her voice again. Even then, all she could manage was a *very* weak "What?"

"I said," Xena basically hissed through clenched teeth, her tone like that to a slow child, "if you don't trust me with my wardrobe..."

"I heard you," Gabrielle interceded in a tiny voice.

"Then would you mind telling me what you were doing pouring over every print-out and ledger on your banker's desk? Or what you were looking for among my clothes?" Xena took a breath, though whether to continue her interrogation or to gather her strength Gabrielle couldn't tell. "Come to that, why you all of a sudden can't stand to look at me?" She took a step forward, this time too quick to be stopped on spoken (never mind silent, though either would have left her a deflated as punctured balloon) command, and essentially went nose-to-nose with her cherished love.

"What? Cat got your tongue?" she challenged. "Or don't I excite you anymore? Were you just seeing someone else when you looked at me?"

Gabrielle looked up, and Xena caught the horror there.

*That* had much the effect of the detonation of a nuclear device directly atop *ground zero*: it left structures (here, two very shocked and mortified women who loved each other dearly) intact if rather worse for wear, caused one devil of a noise (neither of them could hear anything now, save the thunder of their heart's each palpitating wildly), and resulted in a wonderful amount of collateral damage (though miraculously the only thing damaged was the orange which had been in Gabrielle's hand, which was suddenly reduced to citrus pulp).

The art of conversation was no longer dead between them; it was decapitated, mutilated, disemboweled, and its organs donated to a thousand recipients. In short, neither could form even the most basic word right then, capable only of staring at the other, though for slightly different reasons.

For Gabrielle, it was the shock at what she perceived to be the insight this Xena displayed which bordered on prescience. Yes, she saw her lost warrior in this child, more and more every day, and never more so than just then. It left her at once overjoyed and utterly terrified. The child's accusations were forgotten, save that they'd implied something about the trust between them.

For Xena, it was the shock she saw so clearly communicated from her love's expressive eyes which struck her mute. The shock, and the realization it prompted her to face. She'd finally done it, hadn't she? She'd actually managed to completely screw up what was otherwise the first solid, trusting relationship she'd managed to build in over a dozen years, and all over the *dumbest* possible ideas.

Those clothes were bought with Gabrielle's money, not hers. If she wanted to take them back, or sew them into a quilt, or use them for rags, it wasn't as if Xena had any right to object. As for the accounts, she'd made it perfectly clear she had no interest in them. Why had she blurted out such obvious crap in the first place? Christ, she swore to herself, in a second I'm going to start bawling again!

She might have already killed her relationship, but damned if she was going to let Gabrielle have the satisfaction of seeing her hard-won pride destroyed as well.

This time it was Xena who turned on her heel and stalked out the room, leaving Gabrielle with only a gaping mouth and a crushed orange still in hand. Even the sound of squealing tires and an engine in overdrive didn't release Gabrielle from the hold her racing, tumbling thoughts had placed upon her. This isn't to say she was insensate to her surroundings or the events around her, and certainly not to Xena's abrupt departure. Everything simply seemed four rooms distant to her, beyond her reach and so beyond immediate care.

When finally she came back to herself, her mind still attempting to reconcile the child and the warrior as one, it was only because Madrigail had come into the kitchen and clicked her lips in disapproval.

"You want juice, use de juicer and no' yer hands," the aged Slav told her employer, leaving as she'd come to fetch mop and bucket.

Gabrielle became hyper-aware of herself and her surroundings with this. The slight sting as raw citrus juice found its way into a paper-cut somewhere on her hand. The bright sunlight streaming into the empty kitchen, its wooden counter- and tabletops and white tiled floor sudden barren and uninviting. The sick feeling which had taken residence in her gut, one not simply from lack of food. The words of accusation which rang in her ears.

It suddenly hurt to be in the sun. To be anywhere, in fact. Distantly, Gabrielle realized she was *still* in shock over this...whatever was happening between them. It made no sense, from her reaction in the wardrobe (what *had* she been looking for, anyway?) to the this madness. All she could think to do at that point was find somewhere quiet, sit down, and patiently await the earth to open up and swallow her whole. She deserved nothing less.

When Xena returned, some three hours later, she looked far worse than her jovial step should have allowed her. Her hair, while combed, was sleek and damp. Her cheeks were flushed as if from Herculean exertion, and her running clothes (which she hadn't changed out of all morning) showed heavy sweat patches and, quite frankly, stank to high heaven.

For all that, she was grinning like a fool and had the same bounce to her step as her morning run had given her. The grin, in fact, proved infectious. She breezed past Madrigail and their cook, Jenniver, who were sharing a cup of coffee in the kitchen, stopping only to bid them good afternoon and pour herself some juice from the refrigerator. Both, who had worried endlessly for their mistresses, were now left smiling as though all were suddenly right again.

Xena fairly bounded up the steps to the second floor and their bedroom, having gulped down the juice and feeling all the more invigorated. She all but exploded into the bedroom, stripping off her sweats and runners in quick succession. Humming as she might have been, both vocally and otherwise, Xena had eyes only for clues as to Gabrielle's whereabouts. Nothing leapt out, and Xena forced herself not to worry over this...yet.

First, she needed to clean up, as physically as she had mentally.

Her workout in town had drained her of the pointlessly aggressive energy which had been churning her guts since the incident at the wardrobe. This had left Xena first mortified by her stupidity and the insinuations she'd thrown about so easily. This had quickly given way to a wave of intense terror, the sort only accomplished when one is faced with death not in the next minute, but only hours away. When you know its coming, you have time to ruminate, compose *long* lists of regrets, and generally see how you've wasted your time. So it was with Xena Alexandran, who faced the very real possibility of such death (provided Gabrielle was merciful enough and *would* simply kill her) upon her return to the house.

Still, her partner in the dojo had practically brow-beaten her into facing both the possibility and the music. This led to a receding of the actual fear, in its place arising a gritty determination to see this through. This, unfortunately, had manifested itself in yet another round of mental tail-chasing, leading itself into an expectation of the worst and undertaking suitable preparations. Preparation in the form of rehearsing the preemptive statements of righteous and defensive pride she'd hammer into Gabrielle the instant she saw her.

Xena had just turned into the driveway when a sliver the conversation at the dojo worked its way past her ruminations and promptly disarmed literally *every* bomb she might have tossed.

"She treat you right?" "Yeah, sure. Doesn't trust me worth beans, but..." "Well, would you? The way you're going at that bag?" She'd practically kicked the heavy punch bag off its chains at the time, realizing with horror exactly *who* she'd visualized it to be. This in mind, her self-righteous (right then in the midst of composing an particularly brutal tirade about supposed transgressions) shrunk to the size of the common dust mote and blew away (as dust motes are wont to) into some distant corner of her subconscious.

By the time she'd parked in the garage and killed the engine, a sort of lightheaded giddiness had overtaken her. For an insane moment Xena thought she might be pregnant, remembering seeing Martia the Python Handler swing from happy to outrightly furious like *that* for nearly three months. She'd brushed her palm against her belly, as flat and firm as ever, and couldn't help but nearly laugh at the notion.

Hence her wide grin upon greeting the maid and cook. Hence her scampering all about like an excited schoolgirl.

Having disposed of her sweats, Xena rummaged through the wardrobe and drawers for towel or robe. She found only a heavy towel, one unfortunately not long nor wide enough to wrap herself in. This brought another smile to Xena. She couldn't remember the last time she'd *not* shed her clothes, at least twice, from dawn to dusk in the past year. It had gotten to the point where she almost felt uncomfortable in anything save the *tightest* lingerie and dresses...or better still nothing at all.

Draping the towel over one shoulder Xena casually strode to the bathroom, still humming to herself some nonsense tune, and hoped there was at least some hot water left. Then again, a cold shower might help her think clearly.

Without Gabrielle's presence (that thought essentially killed her tune) the shower went quick. Just as well, as the water soon turned cold. Xena stepped out and rubbed herself down. Her few efforts at whistling or humming fell flat, and so she decided to work on in silence. This was just as well, as she heard the approach and arrival of a certain redhead. Her courage suddenly faltering, Xena kept her head down and concentrated on her thighs and shins.

When finally she looked up Gabrielle was standing there, leaning against the threshold, arms crossed and eyes hovering between worry and anger. "And where have you been?" she asked, her tone frosty in the warm mist hanging about them.

"Out," Xena said tonelessly, unwilling to betray her thudding heart. Stepping around the smaller woman, she added "Problem with that?" It had slipped out before she could stop it.

"No," Gabrielle shook her head. "I'm glad, actually."

Xena stopped dead in her tracks at that. "Why?"

Gabrielle's only answer was a gaze of longing, loss, and decision. It left Xena chilled to the core. Before she could ask anything, even the obvious, Gabrielle turned away and made for the staircase. The set of her shoulders, the steadiness of her pace, all clearly communicated the message: "Don't ask me now. I am *not* ready to talk to you."

Xena watched her go, heart sinking with each step Gabrielle took down the staircase. Eventually, she roused herself enough to return to the bedroom, yielding to the sensible notion of getting some clothes on.

Sunset found them eating in the dining room, one at either end of the banquet table.

Like the rest of the house, it was simple and breathtakingly elegant in furnishing. The exterior wall was all towering windows, allowing the last light of day to filter throughout and highlight the simple table and chairs there. Gabrielle was not one for opulence, but certainly for style.

Xena wore jeans, a tank top, and had gone barefoot for the remainder of the day. She'd kept well out of Gabrielle's way, hiding out in her well-stocked library and reading bits and pieces from the few non-scholarly works there. On the street, her reading had been limited to the trash her pimps or johns had kept. Here, she rediscovered *good* writing, though that day she'd had to avoid her usual diet of sonnets. A single line from any of them would see her come apart at the seams, probably permanently.

Gabrielle had likewise kept to herself, though she'd been out walking the grounds and felt calmer for it. Her pumps and pants suit had been a loss when she'd come in, forcing her to risk entering their bedroom. The memories alone nearly undid her, their sweetness every bit as devastating as seeing the pained realization in Xena's eyes earlier.

How either managed to eat was a riddle neither the gods nor Fates might ever unravel. Yet here they were, drinking their wine and swallowing their food, neither tasting a damn thing. Neither comfortable in the others presence.

Xena, not surprisingly, was the first have her fill of the silence between them. She nearly threw her cutlery onto her plate and said "We need to talk." Her voice carried in the otherwise silent room, though Gabrielle refused to look up. One glance from those eyes across the table, and she was done for.

So, Gabrielle instead kept her eyes on her barely touched plate and said "So talk." Naturally, she didn't see Xena's flinch, though she couldn't help but feel those eyes harden.

"I want to know...what I did wrong." Xena had her hands clenched in her lap, an unsuccessful effort to keep them from shaking. "I...want to know what...what you want me to do." Her voice clearly betrayed the lump which had formed in her throat, nearly strangling her voice.

Gabrielle heard it clearly, her eyes wide. She was left drained, with no defense against her now. Only the truth remained. *Please, Artemis, let it be enough.í "I don't want anything from you, Xena." Gabrielle looked up, tears once more in her eyes.

"Except you."

Xena faltering courage suddenly rallied and gave her strength enough for the question she'd ached with since the afternoon. "Me? Or...her?"

Gabrielle shook her head. "She...her name was Xena, too." This caused another flinch, which Gabrielle was spared for the mist which obscured her vision. "She's dead...*has* been dead for a...long time." She paused, suddenly needing breath. "Long before I saw you." That was it. Gabrielle couldn't form another word, never mind see further than her nose.

And so she didn't see the parade of emotions playing across Xena's face. Anger first, then despair. The first prompted by the admission, the next from the same, but more for her belief in their love being lost. Hearing her *namesake* was dead gave her a moment's satisfaction (played out as a smug smirk which curled her lips), only to have it washed away by the pain of Gabrielle's tears. The despair gripped her again, this time for herself alone. How *dare* she take satisfaction from Gabrielle's pain! Gabrielle was worth a thousand of her, and here she was taking delight from the death of someone she loved.

Even in the haze of her own misery, Xena could see her choices clearly. She could flee this house, this life, and return to the streets she belonged on. With luck, she'd be dead in a month and Gabrielle would be spared further embarrassment by her. Or...she could stay and at least try and ease Gabrielle's grief, even a little. Worthless as she might be, Xena Alexandran had never been one to turn her back on anyone suffering.

She was moving before even realizing she'd made the decision, hardly even feeling the carpet scratching her bare feet.

Gabrielle was blind and deaf to everything, save her own self-loathing. She'd done it. She'd broken her own vow and managed with just a few words to condemn herself to an eternity of loneliness. Xena would leave her now, disgusted and rightly so. And now? Now she didn't even have the strength left to finish her own destruction.

She felt the presence which knelt beside her, and the hand which brushed away the rogue tendrils of strawberry hair which had fallen around her face. She felt, but refused to believe.

Even when arms as strong as a Titan's, as gentle as the morning's light encircled her, even then she refused to believe. She leaned to the side, into those arms, willing to entertain the illusion as long as it would last.

When the arms didn't fade, but tightened their grip on her, and remained far past her eyes drying of their tears, only then did Gabrielle dare open her eyes and risk loosing this phantom peace.

She saw a thick, bronzed arm around her chest and shoulders, solid and glorious in its gentle strength. Turning her head slowly to the side, she met Xena's gaze. It was one of resignation, acceptance, and expectant hope. She heard Xena's voice, barely believing the mercy she was being shown. "I will be whatever you want me to," Xena said, her words nearly lost. The next part she read in those expressive eyes, and it awoke her like a bucket of ice water to her face. "Please, don't..."

Gabrielle heard the remainder before it was even said, and placed two fingers on her lips as Xena had done to her a year ago, stopping those terrible, pointless words from coming. *Don't send me away.*

She tried to speak, but it came out as a croak. Gabrielle swallowed and tried again. "I want you."

"But..." Xena tried to say around her fingers, only to have them pressed harder against her lips, silencing her protest.

"Life is too short for me to live in the past." An ironic statement, she thought distantly, coming from someone who has lived two millennia. "I'm done with that. She's gone, and you're here. Now."

Xena let go of her love's shoulders and removed the lips from her mouth. "I...you see her in me, don't you?" she challenged, her eyes suspicious.

Gabrielle closed her eyes for a moment, giving Xena her answer. The tall woman tried to pull away, only to be gripped by the forearms with a tighter than she thought possible. The intensity in the eyes which now regarded her held her with still greater strength. "I see the woman I *love*," Gabrielle insisted. "I see the face of someone I knew a long time ago. I see the face of someone I saw die a long time ago." There was desperation in her voice and eyes now. "But I love you. Not your face, not your hair, or your eyes, or any of that. Don't you understand? Please...please understand..." Her voice had started to crack from this, the intensity in her eyes too much to allow her to see the understanding Xena tried to communicate. She was gripping those arms even tighter now, but Xena gladly endured the pain.

"I love you," Gabrielle was croaking now. "I love you...she's dead...not you... you're all I've got...left...she left me alone...don't leave...please don't leave..." On and on like that.

Xena wasn't silent either, cooing and whispering assurances and words of comfort into her love's ear, equally desperate to reassure her.

Eventually, both calmed, and Gabrielle realized with some chagrin how tightly she'd been holding onto Xena. She eased her grip, but stopped short of releasing it altogether. Xena herself made no move to pull fully away.

They stayed like that for awhile, simply staring at one another, neither wholly comfortable, neither willing to back away even a hair from the other.

"I believe you," Xena said out of the blue. Gabrielle looked deep into those brilliant eyes, and saw no deception or doubt there. She believed, and all she could do was lean forward once more, back into the waiting arms of the one who loved her.

Luna was beginning her ascent over the horizon when Xena disengaged herself from the embrace and said in her ever-practical voice "Its been a long day. Let's go to bed." Gabrielle could only laugh at this and tried to get to her suddenly shaky feet.

Without a word, Xena bent down and gathered her into both arms, carrying her away from the table. She knew (or thought she knew) there would be no more love-making tonight, only some much needed sleep.

Had she seen Gabrielle's wisp of a grin, she might have been better prepared.

Madrigail padded in a short while later. Her only observation on seeing the plates and empty room was a sigh of "At *last*." With a motherly grin of satisfaction, she set about cleaning away the leftovers.

Her grin widened a bit as her sharp ears picked out the sounds which drifted down from above. The sound of a distant shriek, first of surprise-turned-laughter, and the sound of something...no, some*one* impacting on the floor upstairs, quite hard from the sound of it. More giggling. Two voices, now. She shook her head. God, she *loved* those two.