All Soul's Night.

Disclaimers in Chapter One. Note: I'd originally intended for 19 to be the end of the story, but certain people (WHO SHALL REMAIN NAMELESS) strong armed me in writing this. Just as well, really, as this was originally how I planned the story to end.

Which was why she didn't raise so much as an eyebrow at the bottle of champaign that was delivered to their table, all with the requisite flourish from their maitre'de and his underlings. "What's this?" Gabrielle was quick to pipe up, her favorite sport of 'Xena-watching' being so rudely interrupted.

"A gift, madam," was the only answer the waiter gave, his confidence instantly evaporating under the *very* intense gaze Xena graced him with.

Xena managed not to laugh at his change in demeanor, the ersatz penguin looking anxious to be elsewhere else entirely. 'Let him earn the bribe,' she chuckled silently to herself and said "From...?" She let her voice trail off and raise a single eyebrow. All of which caused the man to flush a little and reach for a suitable answer.

"From...an admirer," he managed with some dignity.

"An admirer," Xena repeated, her eyes distant as though giving the answer careful consideration, her flat tone communicating neither belief nor disbelief. After a moment or two of this, which Gabrielle observed with rapt attention, Xena made a small noise of indifferent acceptance and said "You may open it."

The waiter surely broke speed records in opening and pouring the champagne, if such records existed, and in excusing himself. Xena half considered calling him back, intending to draw the game out a little longer, but decided against it upon seeing how suspiciously Gabrielle was eyeing the sparkling liquid.

"What do you think?" Gabrielle asked, eyes widening as Xena took a measured sip from her own glass.

"Hmm," she hummed, swallowing, and then declared "I think...this is a pretty decent vintage. Dom Pergeon." She smacked her lips with flourish. "'72, I'd wager."

Gabrielle's mouth fell open. "Xena," she hissed dangerously.

"Gabrielle," was Xena's grinning reply. She leaned closer, appearing to any who might be watching as though she were about to whisper endearments of the triple-X rated variety into her companion's ear. When she spoke, her voice was low and deadly serious. "Your fangs are showing." Gabrielle's mouth closed with an audible 'clack', which gave Xena sufficient reason to sit back and look pleased with herself.

'Winner, and still champion.' cheered the silent crowd.

******

There had been many such confrontations over the past several days, almost from the moment they'd awakened from their abortive 'lunch'. Xena was somewhat relieved to see Madrigail had snuck in while they slept and managed to silently clean away the mess, though she cringed in feigned horror at the thought of the 'talking to' she would likely be subjected to once the old housekeep caught up with her.

A glance downwards convinced her an irate Madrigail was the very *least* of her problems.

The hazel and emerald eyes that regarded her just then were flint hard and spoke of danger. So, too, did the solid set of her jaw. To say nothing of the stone-like grip she encircled Xena's waist with, cutting off any escape she might attempt in the face of what both knew was to come.

"How?" Such a simple question, demanding answers and brooking no distraction.

Xena closed her eyes and focused her thoughts. How could she explain that which she barely understood herself? "I...rebuilt myself," was the best she could offer, only to catch the look in Gabrielle's eye. Before the bard could speak the words, Xena cut it. "No, Hades had *nothing* to do with it," she vowed with clear venom in her voice. "Nor did Ares, Artemis, Aphrodite, or any of the rest of them. We own them *nothing*!" She met Gabrielle's eyes. There was fire there now, a slow-burning flame who's century-long absence made it all the more real. Whatever doubts Gabrielle had held or nursed to that point were consumed by the fire...and with them, all inhibitions. The bard spread herself full over her love's body, pressing down with every once of strength she dared, her lips capturing the larger woman's.

Xena was past putting up any resistance, and surrendered herself willingly.

******

The questions didn't stop. Gabrielle didn't let Xena out of her sight, nor did she miss the smallest moment or chance to question or prod a detail here or there.

"Not like the pheasant you cooked for us on Mikonnos, eh?"

"You wore those same colors when we first moved to Paris, didn't you?"

"I realize the house is larger than the one we lived in...where was it? The one by the lake in Norway?"

"Of course I don't like *that* suit. It looks too much like the outfit I had to wear to my coronation."

Xena missed not a one, answering each clearly, even adding details Gabrielle herself had forgotten so casually that the bard wondered if she wasn't in fact getting old.

It became almost a game to them, this back-and-forth play of words, neither showing signs of wishing it to end. The bard was quickly becoming hard-pressed to think up incidents and moments of their life to quiz her on, only to find *herself* being questioned about the damnest things. For example:

While up to her elbows in bread dough, she asked "You like both walnut and peanut in your nutbread, right?"

To the suggestion she wear something in dark leather to an opening they were to attend, Xena gave her a very level look and said "The only way I will deck out in black leather again is if *you* dig out that atrocious green top *and* brown kilt you wore for twenty winters and wear *them* for the next gallery opening. Deal?"

And when news arrived of her a newborn colt coming to her... their... breeding farm in Connecticut, Xena adamantly refused to allowing him to be named 'Argo'. Her explanation: "Argo was a *female*, my love, or had you forgotten?"

If all these hits were not enough for the bard, the hours upon hours of loveplay and ecstasy which Xena treated and teased her with night after night left Gabrielle wondering how she could ever have doubted this was her love returned to her. Not that she didn't give as good as she got, managing to leave Xena completely breathless in return. She'd had, after all, an extra century to practice.

******

They had finished their first glass of the gift, and were having their second one poured when Xena broke the silence that had reigned since its arrival. Gabrielle had gone back to her second-favorite recreation ('Xena-glaring'), but didn't risk opening her mouth again lest her fangs make another surprise appearance. Xena, being Xena, simply held her tongue and enjoyed the bubbly liquid. The other patrons were picking up on all this, and were unconsciously bracing for the storm to break.

Xena's voice was gentle and exact as she addressed the waiter. "Send a bottle of the LeQuer '75 to the young woman sitting alone in the corner table."

To his credit, not a drop was spilled at this sudden and expensive request. "Madam, that year is over six-hundred dollars a bottle," he said, as was his obligation to point out.

Xena watched him out of the corner of her eye. "Six hundred and seventy-four. And you have the year in stock, yes?" Seeing him nod, she said "Then send one to the young lady as I instructed." She was pleased to see even the corner of her eye still constituted a convincing weapon.

Once the waiter was well away, Gabrielle leaned over and hissed "How do you know the price of the wines here?"

Xena smiled. "I have many skills."

Gabrielle scowled at that. The sort of scowl that is patently false and used only to conceal the most riotous of laughter. She communicated her true feelings through her eyes, which sparkled and spoke of the delicious reprisals to come. Insolence like this simply could *not* be tolerated.

The fact Xena had finally uttered those four magical words didn't hurt in the least.

******

Hope realized she was blown when she spied the waiter's approach. Granted, the champaign had been an extravagant gesture, and she doubted either would really appreciate the antiquity or the rarity of the vintage selected. Still, it was the thought that counted.

She'd made it a point *not* to watch or even look in their general direction, knowing their sharp senses could and would pick out such surveillance directed their way. It already took all her not-inconsiderable will to remain seated where she was, hidden away in a corner, and *not* bolt and disappear for another century or two as she was inclined to. Hope was her mother's daughter, after all, and such cowardice would be fought all the harder for it.

Hope watched them all the same, stolen glances speaking volumes. The warrior had clearly returned, though there remained clear sign of her ėsecond childhood'. She actually seemed...relaxed. Her shoulders were relaxed and loose, she smiled, even chuckled softly to some joke her ears alone heard, and there was a rare sparkle to be caught in her eye. To Hope, this only made the warrior all the more dangerous. What could be more dangerous than a warrior who fights not with sword and chakrum alone, but with heart as well?

The old one had just decided to leave before she could be discovered when she spotted the waiter who had been serving Xena and Gabrielle weave his way *directly* towards her table, a single bottle clenched gently in his hands. She knew immediately that she had nowhere, *nowhere* left to flee to, and could only sit there and wait her fate. It was comforting in a way, knowing now that they knew. A relief even. If only waking from yet another false death could bring her such peace.

"Madam?" the waiter murmured gently, drawing Hope away from her inner musings. "A gift from the ladies across the room." Hope graced him with a smile and quiet thanks, nodding for him to open the bottle. She sipped the expensive vintage with relish, letting it coat her tongue with its tart sweetness.

She'd underestimated Xena yet again. It was no difficulty admitting this, but then who expected a hardened warrior and former prostitute to know much about the intricacies of vintage and wine houses? She poured herself another glass and contemplated her next move, not there was all that much to contemplate.

As in the Circle's den, there had never been any choice.

That thought in mind, Hope rose from her seat and signaled the waiter.

******

Xena felt herself tense instinctively upon seeing the young-looking woman's approach. She'd changed subtly since disappearing in that cave. Her hair was lighter, her stride longer. She was leaner than before, making her look weaker than Xena suspected she truly was. But her eyes remained the same subdued hazel-green mix, clearly marking her maternity better than any face or manner might.

Old habits die hardest, else Xena would not have struck such an aggressive pose. True, this one was the instrument of the death of so many. But then, who was *she* to judge another?

Her tension must have been clearly communicated, as the old one slowed her pace, the waiter immediately behind her matching this. Xena forced herself to relax, unwilling to ruin the moment for feelings long past their time. She'd spoken the words of forgiveness long ago, after all. Wasn't it time she put them to action?

Gabrielle watched with rapt attention what must have been a fascinating sequence of emotion flow through her. No doubt *she* already knew who approached, and so deliberately focused her attention elsewhere.

Xena didn't blame her in the least. It was taking a fair bit of effort not to glare, and she found herself wishing she could be elsewhere right then.

There was no way to ignore the soft voice which asked of them "May I join you?"

Xena shrugged her acquiescence, while Gabrielle stayed silent. Neither could really think of a thing to say just then. What does one say to one's child after centuries upon centuries of alternating silence, hatred, and uncertain love? How does one speak words of love when the clearest memories were ones of death delivered by the mother's very hand? Did such words even exist?

Gabrielle clearly had none, and all Xena could think to say was "Thank you for..." only to have the once-child raise her hand and still all words.

"You have nothing to thank me for, warrior." She spoke in a Greek dialect that had not been heard since the days of Saint Augustine. "I have taken too much from you to *ever* repay." She turned her eyes to her mother, slowly and with visible effort. "Too much from *both* of you."

Xena had nothing to say to this. Gabrielle by contrast found her voice again. "Oh?" she queried. "And *I* haven't taken as much from you?"

"My blood, such as it is, has never been on your hands, moth... Gabrielle." Sensing the words to come, Hope added "Nor yours, Xena. My fate..."

"I don't believe in 'fate'!" Xena hissed, unwilling to hear another word. Damn it! Every conversation she'd tried to start lately went downhill from word one.

"Even after meeting the Three?"

"I'd sooner tear the entire loom apart than let them weave another thread."

"How typical of you." There was a trace of contempt to her voice now. "You'd sooner condemn all creation to chaos than allow the smallest..."

Gabrielle's soft voice silenced them both. "You're changing the subject, Hope." She hadn't raised her eyes, and her voice was but a whisper. She might as well have screamed seven hells for the effect it had.

Hope was tensed, though Xena could see it was more for flight than fight. A pointless effort, as neither she nor Gabrielle would allow her out of their sight, and certainly not like this. Something Hope, like Xena herself, doubtlessly knew, hence her effort at inciting the latter's temper and being forced away. It was a clever strategy, one worthy of their eldest daughter. Xena held herself as responsible for what had become of Gabrielle's first daughter as her own sire was, and so was actually pleased to see the centuries had taught her a thing or two.

Gabrielle spoke again, her words causing a flinch to her daughter's already pinched brow. "I'm the one who should be begging *your* forgiveness."

"You saved me..." Hope began, only to have Gabrielle interrupt, the flat tone with which she spoke every bit as alien as the admission itself.

"I *murdered* you, time and again." Gabrielle leaned forward, her eyes as dead as her voice. "I poisoned you and left your body to rot in Greece. I *ignored* your cries in those caves under Newfoundland. I tried to hack you to pieces when you came to me in London. I would have burnt you to ashes if you hadn't run from us in Nippon." Each admission cracked another shard from the shell over her eyes, the tears and emotions denied far too long welling and threatening to spill over. "How can you sit there and...and..."

"How can *you* stand to be anywhere near me? Either of you?"

Xena chose that moment to speak. "You protected your brothers and sisters over the centuries, haven't you?" It was a statement, spoken as though seen with her own eyes. She leaned in closer. "You've come to us now because of the Circle. It was you in that cavern, wasn't it? And in our bedroom, with that sword and looking like Death itself. Even here, at the restaurant, two weeks ago tonight."

"I *murdered* your son, warrior! I cut him down in cold blood without giving him even a chance to defend himself. How can you forgive that?"

Xena flinched at the mental vision, still sharp after all this time. She issued no curse nor retribution for this, but instead sat back and refused to look away. "Whether I forgive or not isn't the issue. It's whether or not you forgive *yourself*."

"Now who's changing the subject?"

Xena's reply was as level as her gaze. "I forgave you a very long time ago, as did Solon. Do you really think yourself so unredeemingly evil? And remember exactly who is asking this, young lady."

Hope could only hold those sapphire eyes a moment longer before tearing her gaze away, only to be captured by her mother's equally strong and unyielding eyes. She was held still as much by the wild and volatile mix of numb fear and steel determination in those twin seas of green and hazel as by the painful grip Gabrielle applied to her forearm.

"Please, stay," was the whole of her spoken plea. The rest of it was communicated by her eyes and through her desperate grip.

Hope looked down at the strong fingers wrapped about her arm. Xena found herself imagining a time when those same fingers would have been wrapped about the child's neck, and her's alongside them. The image of the child this one had once been, and the spawn she'd then become... there was nothing of either to be seen now in the woman she'd grown into. She cringed at the memory of her actions at Hope's birth. Knowing she had been right, being proven right, doing what should have been for the best...all those things had cost too much from the start.

Damned if she'd repeat her mistakes here.

She watched, heart breaking slowly, as Hope forced Gabrielle's hand to relinquish her arm and carefully placed it back on the table, though she refused to show it as visibly as Gabrielle did. The bard looked every bit as devastated and vulnerable as Xena herself did. Only her utter refusal to acknowledge the building despair kept her hands from shaking as they otherwise might. She'd won too many battles that should have been lost to surrender the chance for *this* one.

Hope's voice, gentle and calm as ever, demolished whatever strategy or plans she might have brought to bear. "I can't come with you..."

"Can't or won't?" Xena heard herself hiss with venom. She would *not* loose this one. She would *not*!

Hope looked her square in the eye, the resignation there ending all argument. "Can*not*," she clearly enunciated. "As in 'I can*not* go home with you two right now.' As in 'I can*not* forgive myself for the things I have done.'" She looked at Gabrielle. "Give me time, Gabrielle. I need time to...to understand myself...to accept what I've done..."

"You've had centuries," was her mother's reply, the accusation laid bare.

"As have you." With that, Hope stood and turned away. She might as well have been moving quicker than Mercury himself, though in fact she moved rather slowly and deliberately, given the paralysis which gripped both warrior and bard right then. Neither moved to stop her. Neither *could* move, and not because Hope refused to allow them to, though this was easily within her power.

Hope gathered up the bottle of wine and managed a few steps before the urge to turn back one last time became overwhelming. Her eyes laying her soul bare, the air carrying her voice to their ears alone. This was as it should have been.

"I love you, Momma. Both of you."

She said nothing more. There was simply nothing more to say.

She was gone long before either could summon the energy to even breathe again. Their hands joined and held tight, as though the other might by torn away at any moment and consumed by the silent misery that engulfed them both. Oh, they understood their daughter's reasoning only too well, and loved her all the more for it. How could they not?

She was, after all, her mother's daughter.

******

Xena awoke with a start, finding herself alone in their wide bed. Blind panic gripped her and she looked about the bedroom, expecting to signs of a struggle. To her immediate relief, she saw Gabrielle standing by the enormous French doors, one shoulder pressed against the threshold and head gently inclined upwards. The moonlight traced the contours of her magnificent body, bathing her nude form in highlights of purest silver.

Xena could see the tracks of tears at her eyes and across her cheeks, and felt her heart shudder once more. For a moment, she hated their daughter for having brought this upon them. Xena was fully used to loathing herself, and so had little care whether she was given one more excuse to do so.

But for Gabrielle, who had already suffered so much since this madness began...whether she fully understood Hope's decision or not was immaterial. Xena knew her bard too well *not* to know what she was doubtlessly thinking and why. She had failed her daughter *again*. That there was no failure here...that the decision had not been her's to make...such things didn't really enter into it did they? Her daughter was still out there, alone, and she could do nothing to protect her.

And what could Xena do? She, who had the strength of the gods and a thousand skills to command and kill, could do nothing...save stand here and hold this precious woman to her. And love her. And pray that their daughter might find peace enough to return to them.

She stood and walked over to where her love and soulmate stood, pressing herself against the bard's back and encircling her in strong arms.

She waited patiently for her bard to return to her, as she always had.

******

It was so comfortable to be in Xena's arms once more. So very comfortable. Gabrielle leaned back into them, her muscles unknotting and her head finding its familiar nook in her shoulder.

*Her* Xena. Gabrielle marveled at the notion, still not fully believing it. *Her* Xena, with whom she'd shared her bed for over a year now, and not even realized it. She chuckled silently to the Fate's brand of humor.

Sleep had eluded her that night. Their lovemaking upon returning from the restaurant had been particularly gentle, almost shy in its tenderness. Satisfying though it had been, it left her more alert than exhausted, and hence her late night's vigil at the window.

She found her thoughts turning to Hope. Xena had told her on the way home of what had happened after she'd been taken away (with a few comments concerning her dreamscape appearance, each delivered deadpan, and a few other comments concerning her willingness to surrender herself without a fight, which were not delivered deadpan but with the promise of utter mayhem should she even *think* of doing so *ever* again!) and of the fight in the cavern. That Hope had proven so deadly had been no surprise; that she had proven so in her defense...in both their defense...left Gabrielle wondering still more about her darkest and most enchanted daughter.

Had Hope truly forgiven her for her crimes? If so, why had she not come home with them? How could she forgive the one who had hurt her so, and yet not forgive herself?

The questions were too much. It was *all* too much. Xena's ėreturn', the Circle, Hope...it all left her dizzy and disorientated.

Only Xena kept her from collapsing. Her hardened, gentle warrior princess. Gabrielle leaned upon her as she once had her staff, as Xena herself often had, knowing her warrior would not let her fall.

Whatever more questions she might imagine, whatever horrors might visit them in the nights to come...they were together once more.

This was enough for them. It always had been.

******

Hope stood once more in the woods beyond the house, the Life welcoming her. She could not stand to be closer to the house...or those precious two within.

Her sharp eyes picked out the two figures in the distant window. The night was a chill one, which perhaps explained why tears welled in her eyes at the sight. She wiped angrily at them, as one might an annoying insect or a stubborn stain on a favorite shirt.

In the end, she could not stop them falling. Nor did she truly try.

Tears were a poor apology to those long dead because of her. But, she knew, it was enough for now.

And when the tears stilled, Hope looked to her mother's house. They still stood there in the window, waiting, watching. For her, and her alone.

She would not keep them waiting long. Just a little while.

There was time enough for them all.

******

Fin.

I should note that much of this written "off the cuff". The many scenes of sexual violence (both overt and implied) came about by themselves, and in retrospect I should have seen them coming way back in Chapter One. I want to make it clear I neither condone this behavior nor do I think it something to be used simply as a plot device. I like to think I've treated it with the seriousness, particularly its consequences, it deserves here. The same goes for "blood sports", though to me that is more a matter of trust and mutual consent(two things the Circle Elders were clearly short on).

On a more philosophical note: No story is created solely by the writer, but grows out of the collective efforts and ideas of all those surrounding the writer throughout the creative process. "All Soul's Night" has been such a collective effort.

With thanks to:

My 13 member Beta team; you guys know who you are. If not for each and every one of you, this story would never have reached for the heights it sought.

The one hundred-plus readers who have written and expressed your views about the story. Keep it coming...PLEASE!

Loreena McKennitt, who's CD "The Visit" and the song "All Soul's Night" provided much of the original inspiration for this story.

My good friend Katrina, who gave us this fascinating and challenging world in which to play. Thanks for the invitation, Kat. Hope you liked what I've done with the place.

To Michele. My own partner in all things, all places, and all times.

Story Disclaimer: The tile in Xena and Gabrielle's bathroom suffered severe staining from water overflow. Repairs, however, in no way taxed Gabrielle's extensive resources.

Second-to-Last Word: If there's any confusion as to how my stories interlock, read them and the canon stories in the following order:

"Bite Me."
"The Fonder Heart."
"Beltane's Eve."
"Samhain's Morn."
"All Soul's Night."
Last Word: This story is NOT canon for the "Blood and Roses" altverse as Katrina created it. It is strictly my take on it. If you want to follow up on event herein, feel free, but remember Katrina has the final say here.

On that note, I bid you all adieu...until next time.