Gabrielle was staring up at her with fever bright eyes. Her usually bouncy,
golden hair was plastered flat with sweat. Out of her mind with the sickness a
poisoned arrow had caused, Gabrielle didn't know where she was.
The attending warrior had been surprised at the first few words.
"Xena, you've got to take me with you..."
Then the dark haired fighter had realised that her companion was reliving a
plea made at the very start of their relationship. It wrenched at Xena's heart
to hear her lover reciting the short speech again after all this time...knowing
that it had inevitably led to Gabrielle at the edge of death while Xena
prepared to hold off a army alone.
"...I want so much to be like you." The desperate request ended.
"And I want to be like you." Xena responded with tears in her eyes.
"But you aren't." Gabrielle sat up, looking sad and disappointed. She
carried the scene in a completely different direction. This isn't what had
happened back in Greece. "I know you're hurting, love, but vengeance isn't the
way to stop the pain." A gentle hand cupped her lover's cheek.
"I've missed you Gabrielle." Xena leaned into the delicate touch. "I'm so
tired of being alone."
"I know." With those words the bard, the hayloft and everything around her
vanished.
Xena fell backwards in shock, flailing in the blanket she had wrapped
herself in. Dry Spanish dust puffed up where she struggled against harsh
reality.
It hurt worse than a knife in the chest. She had so few dreams of Gabrielle
these days. Her lover had suddenly withdrawn from Xena's dreams right after the
attack that had demolished her partisan group, although she had been gradually
reappearing over the last fortnight the contact was still sporadic. Why did
this rare appearance have to be so brief and wrenching?
"Are you angry with me?" Xena scrubbed the sleep out of her pale eyes. The
sun had gone down. It was time to get back to work. "I just need to finish up
here, beloved." She bargained. "As soon as this war is over I'll go someplace
quiet and straighten myself out." That might be a lie. Although she didn't want
to admit it, the fighter was beginning to enjoy herself. Living like this was
like putting a sharp edge on her blade. It gave her a certain cruel
satisfaction knowing that the French were aware and afraid of her.
"What's the point really?" Xena continued to lie on the ground. "I've tried
to keep things under control, make sure I was fighting on the side of right all
these years, but in the end... what difference does it make, beloved?" How
could she be so exhausted after sleeping most of the afternoon? "No matter what
I do I'm never going to end up in the Elysian fields with you or in Tartarus
hanging on a cross. This is forever. My fate is having to wake up day after day
for the rest of eternity knowing we're never going to see each other again."
A faint voice inside tried to make itself heard, to remind her she wasn't
trying to keep control of her savage side for a promise of reward or threat of
punishment but for it's own sake. That voice wasn't having much luck breaking
through Xena's current depression.
"I know I said I wouldn't become some kind of monster if fate parted us, but
Gods, beloved...it's been so many years. It's not like I'm trying to conquer
the continent, that's Bonaparte's job. I'm just trying to hold my ground."
Xena sat up, shoving her blanket aside. "You promised..." The thought came
out more harshly than the warrior intended, like an accusation. "You said where
I go, you would go...but you're not here. You'll never be at my side again."
Her small campsite didn't take much work to tidy up. There was no fire to
disguise. All she needed to do was stow the few bits of gear she had unpacked
and do a touch of roughing up on the area she had flattened. Unfortunately the
quiet home-like work allowed that small domestic voice to whisper more clearly
in her ear. It warned in Gabrielle's sweet tones that eternal life meant living
with the consequences of any uncontrolled actions forever.
"As if that could make this never-ending exile any worse?" Xena countered.
"I already hurt all the time. I've earned a right to retribution. They've
killed all the people that made your absence bearable. They deserve this, damn
it."
What exactly did they deserve? Where are you going to draw the line and
decide they've paid enough? Her conscience gained strength.
"I'm just making sure they understand they can't mess with this land and
these people any more. I'm not going Warlord." The denial had a hollow ring.
But that's how it started the first time, wasn't it. The need to defend
Amphipolis, her first home, ever so gradually turned outward. Until the best
way to protect home was to conquer the world.
Xena shuddered. "Not that it matters." The Warrior repeated it like a
mantra. "Nothing really matters anymore, beloved." She had to get out of this
place. The wind in her face would settle her mind. She could eat in the saddle
while she set to tracking down tonight's prey.
A rather large column of about twenty or so had been patrolling back and
forth inside the disputed no-man's land between the armies for several days
almost as if they were looking for something in particular.
"Maybe me." The warrior grinned. It was about time she tracked them down.
WELLINGTON'S SPYMASTER: "Ducos is a very bad boy. He has the ear of
Bonaparte himself. Where he rides, dirty work follows."
Major Etienne Navarre carefully suppressed the glower that wanted to
emerge. When he'd started out on this mission it had been with twenty of the
finest soldiers France had to offer. He had always taken a certain amount of
pride in his ability to see and choose good men to work under him. Now, between
the frustration of constant, fruitless patrols and the influence of that
bastard Sergeant and his two cronies the men were reverting to a gang of rowdy
hooligans. Damn Major Ducos for inflicting the trio of troublemakers on
Navarre. This wasn't the kind of mission he preferred, but that was no excuse
for a less than exemplary performance.
'La Princesa Guerrera' was nowhere and everywhere at once. They had come
across plenty of evidence that she was in the area, French bodies and fleeing
soldiers, but had yet to find her in person. The woman was clever enough to
avoid a company this large. She was mostly taking out four and five man
expeditions.
Then there was Sergeant Francois Malais. Etienne hung to the back of the
column, staring blankly down from his horse. He was definitely not in the mood
to talk to that hulking bully. What was Ducos thinking, sending Malais out with
him? Navarre and the Sergeant were complete opposites. Every hour was a
constant battle over the men's loyalty, the path they chose to travel, and how
they treated any locals they came across.
If there was a god, then the spy Ducos and Malais were waiting for would
appear soon. Once the young man arrived Sergeant Malais would take him and get
out of Etienne's face. Of course with the way the Sergeant talked about the
returning agent, Navarre wouldn't blame the man for attempting to bypass Malais
completely given half a chance. How could Ducos, an absolute mastermind at
espionage, trust this spy to have achieved anything if Sergeant Malais'
description was anywhere near accurate?
So far Malais had referred to the impending arrival as... the stupid little
bastard, the Russian whore, the snot-nosed dirt rat and my animal...among
other, even more disgusting things. If Ducos hadn't called Krycek by name Major
Navarre still wouldn't know it, not that the information had been worth having
to spend ten minutes in the company of that underhanded, evil man. Ducos had
engineered the encounter because he knew Etienne wouldn't have accepted the
addition of Sergeant Malais and his henchmen to Navarre's company if it hadn't
been reinforced with a face to face meeting.
The thorn in Navarre's side detached from the line of marching soldiers and
fell back to walk beside the Major's horse.
{Supplies are dwindling, Sir.} Sergeant Malais stated, adding a bit of a
sneer to the title. {I'm thinking that it's about time I took a few of the men
off to do some foraging.}
Etienne looked down with a cold expression. "Non." He denied the request.
{It can wait until tomorrow. We need to cover more ground before setting up
anywhere for a short stay.} With most underlings Navarre wouldn't be expected
to explain himself but Francois Malais was challenging him with every breath he
took. {The Warrior Princess is attacking small parties; therefore even foraging
parties need to be at least eight men. If the company is splitting that big a
segment off I want to provide a secure base for them to return to.} Not to
mention that Malais blood-soaked 'foraging' expeditions tended to take far too
long and attracted a lot of attention. If 'La Princesa Guerrera' was going to
confront them it would probably be after one of the Sergeant's rampages and she
was going to be on the attack at the time. When that happened, Etienne wanted
to be ready for it.
{There's a farm just a bit south of here right now.} Francois argued
automatically.
{There will be more to the east.} Pick your battles carefully, Etienne
warned himself yet again. {Perhaps, you can go in the morning.} He stalled.
The Sergeant scowled but didn't grumble and snarl in protest for a change.
Navarre was more than a little relieved when the big man picked up his feet
to rejoin his preferred companions once more.
KRYCEK: "Where do you get off copping this attitude? I mean, you don't
know the first thing about me."
Aleksandr dared to be a bit more intrusive the second day on the road.
Braving Sergeant Harper's dark looks Alek stayed close by while Sharpe
questioned the occupants of a farm about partisan activity.
The farmer had heard a few rumours, which he cautiously relayed to the
English after exchanging some not-quite coded references with Major Sharpe.
Alek's willingness to open Mulder's heaping purse and overpay for some supplies
loosened the farmer's tongue even further. La Princesa Guerrera had stopped at
a neighbour's home to trade French coin and a really good pair of boots for
food.
Sharpe didn't bother to translate all the details of the long conversation
into English for his Colonel. Alek's Spanish wasn't as good as his French and
English but he didn't have any trouble following the quick exchange. Of course
he kept his expression carefully blank of understanding. Mulder shouldn't be
able to speak the language. His covert attention earned him the name of a local
church and the confidence that Father Charles was something of a news source
for most of the partisans around here... among other titbits of information.
Aleksandr pushed away from the fencing he had been leaning against and
cleared his throat. It was obvious even if Alek had no grasp of Spanish that
the conversation was winding to a close. "Major Sharpe..." He interrupted. "See
if the man has any rabbits to spare while you're at it." He withdrew the
pilfered coin-sack making it clear that he was prepared to pay for the supplies
that had been mentioned earlier. "The men have covered a lot of territory. We
could all use a couple of decent meals." The money was handed over and the
farmer edged away from the soldiers, clearly wishing they would leave.
"If it's rabbits you're looking for, Sir, they run wild hereabouts." Harper
cut into the exchange. "Perhaps you'd rather shoot a few of the critters
yourself." His undertone suggested 'get off your damned horse and do some
work' quite clearly. "You must miss hunting, Colonel Mulder, Sir. Word has
you're quite the crack shot." Patrick said. "I'm sure the men would dearly
enjoy a chance to see such a fine ranger as yourself at work." The dare was
phrased as a compliment.
Aleksandr saw the challenge in the set of the Sergeant's mouth but he
couldn't rise to it. Mulder might be an expert marksman but Aleksandr faired
best in the close quarters of a knife fight. That son of a bitch Harper was
annoying the hell out of him. "That's certainly an option, Sergeant." Alek
emphasised the rank. "But why waste the time and energy when this farmer can
use the hard cash and I've got it to spare. Besides which, with all the action
this area has seen I'm sure the hares have been hunted enough. We should leave
something for the locals to eat, don't you think?"
"You know best, Sir." Patrick's eyes said exactly the opposite.
Alek shot Sharpe a sideways glance but the Major wasn't any help, as usual.
"I'm sure there's another stop or two we need to make today." Aleksandr hinted.
"I'd like to find out what kind of activity we can expect from the French
hereabouts." What he really needed to know was the best direction to run when
he slipped away because it looked like tonight was the night.
"Sergeant Harper and I could swing around to a town I know of...do a bit of
poking about Colonel Mulder." Sharpe jumped at the chance for some distance.
"We'll meet back up with you and the men just east of the next cross-roads."
Harper was hoisting his pack back into place when the Colonel spoke.
"No." Aleksandr left no doubt that what he said next was an order. "Sergeant
Harper will take the supplies, the men, and my horse to the rendezvous point. I
will go with you Major Sharpe." The spy levelled a cold green glare at Harper.
Much to Alek's satisfaction the Irish man frowned and narrowed his own eyes in
response to the unspoken malice. It could be the Sergeant seemed to realise,
for the first time, that the man in front of him might actually be dangerous.
"Take that, you Paddy bastard." He'd had enough of the big man's subtle
intimidation tactics and Sharpe's chilly avoidance. "We'll take Harris with
us." Alek claimed his favourite among the men to ease the Major's expression of
alarm.
"And Hagman." Sharpe added, although he would have preferred to demand they
all stay together at this point. Tramping through disputed territory with
Harper at his back was one thing, doing the same with just Colonel Mulder was
near on suicide.
"Fine." Alek conceded. Longhaired Hagman had proven quietly unobtrusive so
far. "Feel free to use my horse as a pack animal for the supplies, Sergeant.
I'd just as soon walk with the Major for the rest of the day." The small,
double-edged favour earned nothing. Harper seemed to be barely controlling his
glower of hatred. "Which way, Major Sharpe?" Aleksandr prompted.
"Harris! Hagman!" Sharpe beckoned. "This way Colonel Mulder." He set off.
The quicker they checked in with Rameriez, the quicker they could rejoin the
others.
A few long strides brought Alek to Sharpe's side. He let the silence be
until they were ten minutes on the road. The men trailed a few feet behind the
officers. Harris and Alek watched more to the right while Sharpe and Hagman
concentrated left. "The other morning...I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable
Richard." Aleksandr spoke without looking.
This was not a conversation Sharpe wanted to participate in. He studied the
passing scenery with more concentration than the flat, open fields required.
"I wasn't trying to force anything on you. I know how that feels. I wouldn't
do that to you, Richard." Alek let go a sigh. "I am sorry." The apology
actually prompted Sharpe to glance over at the younger man. The Major seemed
even more confused than when Alek had made the pass at him.
"Forget it." Richard finally managed to say, wishing he could do that
himself.
Aleksandr fell quiet. The part of his mind that wasn't occupied with
watching his surroundings drifted. He wondered if Ducos would allow him a visit
to Paris before dispatching him on yet another unsavoury errand. He hadn't seen
his little brother and sister in over four months now. It was hard to keep
playing the game, doing as he was told, without making contact with the reasons
behind his obedience.
Tatyana and baby Dimitri, the last two living members of his family, became
hostages for Alek's continued good behaviour. Malais realised that Aleksandr
cared more about them than his own well being. The brutal soldier had pounded
Alek into a battered heap without gaining the location of the wine cellar or
any other hidden assets. A search of the manor and the bodies had turned up no
jewellery or portable wealth but the French knew that such a well-to-do estate
should have things like silverware somewhere about. All it took was Malais
grabbing poor, screaming Tatyana by the hair and Aleksandr had babbled every
hiding place on the farm to distract the thieving bully.
That had been only the beginning. Upon reflection Alek was disgusted by how
quickly he had gone from disclosing the hiding place of Mama's jewellery to
offering up observations of Russian troop movements he had witnessed. Papa's
maps of the surrounding countryside had bought Tati and Dima some food and
water. Alek's willingness to drop to his knees for the soldiers whenever it was
required had preserved Tatyana's ten-year-old innocence.
He sometimes wondered if things would have turned out better or worse if
Pierre Ducos hadn't been passing through the camp and taken an interest in
Malais' toy. Aleksandr could feel those talon-like fingers knotting in his hair
even now, forcing his bruised face up. It frightened Alek, the way the
spymaster's glasses flashed, reflecting the light and hiding the thoughts
behind his cold eyes. Not too far away Tatyana was attempting to muffle
Dimitri's wail of sadness as their big brother and protector took up a position
that suggested yet more punishment. God above, he wished these bastards would
let his sister take the kid somewhere else so the eight-year-old didn't have to
watch this.
{Yes, Sergeant, he's very amusing...} The oily voice complimented Alek's
tormentor on his consummate job of breaking the young man. {But is he perhaps
useful as more than a punching bag? Your French is impeccable, boy. I suspect
you've been schooled thoroughly. How many languages do you speak?}
A musket butt thumped casually into Alek's recently carved right shoulder
causing a stream of blood to run down Aleksandr's spine. That was Malais' way
of punctuating the other man's question.
{Seven.} Alek had gasped out. He had learned to answer Malais quickly and
offer more information wherever relevant. The rules seemed to apply to this
Major as well. {I can read five.}
A slow reptilian blink and a hint of a lipless smile followed. Ducos had
removed his spectacles, unnecessarily cleaning them before continuing. {Clever
boy. How would you like it if I took your brother and sister to Paris and put
them in a nice, safe school...with nuns looking after them instead of these
rough soldiers?} The devil made his offer.
Aleksandr had gazed up and signed his soul away without even a moment's
hesitation. {I'll do anything you want.}
{Yes.} An amused chuckle hissed out. {Yes, you will. Well, Sergeant Malais I
do believe you've just found a ticket off the front lines...provided you can
keep your little pet performing properly.}
{That's not a problem, Sir.} The big Sergeant swatted absently, knocking
Alek into the cold dirt.
Aleksandr shook the memory of Russia away. Now was not the time for
wallowing in the past. The day was fine and bright, Harper was far away, and
Sharpe was nearby...pleasantly confused by Alek. This was as close to having
fun as his life got these days. "You look tense, Richard." He began. "I suppose
it's odd, being on the road like this with me."
Sharpe glanced briefly over, a crease forming between his brows. "I'm told
you're an accomplished fighter, Sir. I'm sure we could hold our own at need."
Where was Mulder going with this odd conversation?
"Yes." Alek agreed absently. "But I feel like I've broken up an old married
couple. You and Sergeant Harper are so close. You definitely seem to prefer
having him on your back rather than me."
"At!" Sharpe corrected quickly. "I trust Sergeant Harper AT my back." This
needling brat was supposed to be the best the colonies had to offer. The man
was nothing but a mass of contradictions. A tracker who rode a horse rather
than staying near the ground. A woodsman who seemed more comfortable talking to
the only scholar in Sharpe's crew than minding what was going on about him. Not
to mention the flirting. Shite.
"Do you have a woman at the moment, Richard?" Sharpe's faltering step at
hearing the question almost made the spy laugh.
"A woman, Sir?" The Major's fingers gripped his rifle tightly. Not this
again.
"Yes, Richard, a female that you rather enjoy wrestling in the blankets with
on a regular basis." Alek defined innocently. "I'd be frightfully surprised if
you didn't, you're being such a handsome man and all. Unless you don't go for
that sort of thing."
I could shoot him. Sharpe told himself. Harris and Hagman would back me up
if I said a French sniper took him down, especially if they could hear what the
man was saying right now. Shite. If they could hear Mulder then all this was
going to get back to Harper. "I..." He shook his head, trying to decide how
best to react.
"I think your integrity must attract women. It's an extremely potent
temptation..." Alek continued. "...to some...women. It makes you very
enticing." The last sentence was almost purred out.
Richard dared a quick inspection of the Colonel, who offered up an innocuous
smile. He was having a hard time thinking of a response that couldn't be
misinterpreted. The man was right on the edge of the line but he hadn't quite
stepped over. Maybe Mulder didn't mean any harm, but it was making him crazy.
"My wife died a short time ago." Sharpe snapped, growing irate with the odd
game the other man seemed to be playing. "I've yet to find another woman that's
her equal."
Aleksandr had to bite his tongue to prevent the thought that leap to the
forefront of his mind from escaping. "It's probably because you're considering
the wrong gender." Saying that aloud after such a grim revelation would be
inexcusable. "I'm sorry." Alek finally said aloud.
This apology sounded sincere, but then so had the last. If nothing else, the
disclosure had wiped the smug expression off the Colonel's face, but Sharpe was
still wary. "Hagman!" He turned all the way around. "I saw something moving at
the tree-line." It was a lie, but Richard had taken enough. "Harris, mind the
Colonel's back while we take a quick look about over there." Right about now, a
French attack would be a welcome distraction. He jogged over the rough ground,
wondering if Mulder was laughing behind his back.
GABRIELLE: "I'm looking for my best friend. Maybe you've seen her? Six
feet tall, dark hair, lots of leather. She fights like the harpies in a bad
mood. Her name's Xena."
When Dana stumbled for the sixth time in fifteen minutes Gabrielle came
to a decision. The younger girl's attempt was valiant but a rest was definitely
in order. "I could use a break." She angled her path to the side of the dirt
roadway, covertly watching her companion as she did. Dana's pretty face was set
into a grimace. Her body moved as if every step was a trial. The young man's
rifleman uniform that had looked so smart on her yesterday night was sweat
marked, dusty and hanging untidily open.
"I don't want William to think I can't keep up." Dana hesitated, sorely
tempted to collapse into the nearby scrub. Still, she was the one that had
demanded the opportunity to come along, so certain that she would be able to
handle it. Bad enough he was already ranging ahead and off to the sides of the
women, chafing at every delay.
"Come sit with me for a few minutes, Dana." Gabrielle lifted her canteen to
take a short drink as she settled to the ground. "The pace Fox is insisting
on..." Her blonde head tipped, indicating the patch of ground beside her. "He's
got a fairly deep well of emotional energy right now. He's so angry." The water
in the container sloshed as she offered Dana a chance to drink. "Just you wait,
by tonight he'll collapse." They had been walking almost constantly since
leaving the British camp. Gabrielle was honestly surprised Dana hadn't broken
down yet.
The Irish woman dropped heavily down beside the bard. After swallowing a few
gulps of water her small hand immediately moved to massage the muscles of her
upper legs, attempting to still the twitching flesh. "Thank you." Dana spoke
softly. She blotted her damp upper lip with the sleeve of the green jacket that
Ramona had scrounged up. "I know you don't really need the break."
"By the time we finish this mission your feet will be so tough you'll be
able to outmarch most of Wellington's army." Gabrielle complimented with an
encouraging grin. "You're doing amazingly well, considering we've been at this
since last night."
"Considering what I am, you mean." Dana's tone was grim. "I do venture out
of the parlour. My Da's estate is a working farm with a lot of tenants...and we
haven't been what you could call wealthy since before my Granddad died." Her
blue eyes scanned the area, looking for William to reappear. "I took my turn in
the fields. We only have one horse so I walked nearly everywhere I needed to
go." Dana stretched herself. "I did some doctoring...birthing babies, setting
bones, and such. The nearest proper doctor cares more for his wealthy town
patients. He only comes out our way for coin in advance." She frowned at the
treeline.
"He'll notice we've stopped and come back." Gabrielle assured her companion.
"He'll come back for you. He needs you." A whine threatened. It wasn't easy
standing by while Gabrielle talked to the locals and William's eyes ate up the
beautiful blonde. Dana hated feeling useless but that had become an almost
continuous state of being since she had left Ireland.
"I'm not what he needs." Gabrielle argued. A thoughtful pause delayed her
next sentence. "He needs a partner, someone to help him put things into
perspective. I've absolutely no desire to be that person for Fox. I'm already
in a rather challenging relationship." The bard waited, studying the girl's
reaction.
Dana stilled. Her mouth pushed out into a small frown and her brows lifted
slightly.
"You seem rather fond of him considering you've only just met." Gabrielle
shifted the topic, not giving Dana too much time to chew on the revelation.
Blue eyes blinked. "Samantha Mulder." Dana began awkwardly. "I mean I've
been exchanging letters with William's sister, Samantha. She practically
worships the ground her brother walks on." A faint laugh escaped. "I've been
trying to take her words with a grain of salt. It looks like I should have
dumped a sack's worth on her praise." Dana's tone was tinted with bitterness.
"Still, he's a damned sight more interesting than the local boy my Pa had his
eye on. Sean is a sweet angel of a boy but he's plain as Ma's porridge." She
shook her head. "Sean and Dana Pendrell and their herd of red-haired, freckled
kids. I just couldn't see my life going that way." She scraped the
sweat-dampened curls by her forehead back. "I just thought William would be
more like Patrick...or Major Sharpe...but with a bit more...charm."
"You're not getting a complete portrait." Gabrielle shook her head. Fox and
Dana had shown one another only masks so far and in Fox's case it was a rather
nasty mask. "He's putting on a show for the army, for me, for you, for his
father...who isn't even here. He's so busy trying to be what everyone expects
that he's losing track of his real self. I think you'd like Fox if you ever got
a chance to meet him, Dana. The man we're following right now...he's not the
same person as he was just two days ago. That man is trying too hard to be
Lieutenant Colonel William Mulder the third." Gabrielle looked over at her
companion to see if any of this was penetrating.
The thoughtful frown on Dana's face suggested it was.
A mischievous grin lit up Gabrielle's face. "Maybe I should try knocking him
on his ass with my staff and see if that shakes him out of this strange mood
he's in."
That image induced a muffled giggle from both the women.
As if conjured, the man they were discussing paced over the rise in the road
and back towards them. Gabrielle stayed where she was, elbows resting on her
knees, and watched the approach. It took some concentration to look past the
angry frown on Mulder's face. The lines she had noticed earlier on his forehead
and between his brows were now cut in with dirt and exhaustion. His eyes were
sunken and the changeable blue-green had shifted to a dark murkiness. She
sighed. He was just as worn out as they were but too obstinate to admit it.
Out of habit, Dana popped up to her feet at Mulder's arrival, heedless of
the wash of pain that caused. Her pale fingers flicked nervously to her hair,
trying to tidy up wind tangled curls. "William. Any luck?"
"If you had bothered to walk just a little further you would have seen the
next town yourself." He snapped at his intended before turning his attention to
Gabrielle. Long legs folded as he squatted down to look the blonde in the eye.
"None of them speak any English or French much past prices and whether I want a
chicken or some wine." He neck cracked faintly. "Could you please come down and
talk to the man in the tavern, Gabrielle? He's saying something about French
soldiers and La Princesa Guerrera that I can't make head nor tails of." Fox
gave up a weary smile. He rose, extending his hand to pull the resting woman
up.
Gabrielle ignored the gesture. "Sit back down Dana. I said I wanted ten
minutes rest and I intend to take ten minutes. We've earned it."
The Irish woman glanced from William to Gabrielle then back again. She
flexed her shoulders back briefly then purposefully lowered herself back down
beside her friend. Dana watched William's face as she moved.
Mulder's hands clenched into fists and he turned his face away to stare,
unseeing, down the road. "But it's just over that hill." His voice was gritty,
struggling internally with the urge to shout.
Gabrielle sadly suspected that Mulder's first inclination was to strike out
at the source of the annoyance. It didn't take much to guess where he'd learned
that reaction. It was a point in his favour that he didn't go so far as to lift
his hand. She made sure her tone was playful. "I'm sure it's stood there for
years, Fox. It's not like to get swallowed up by the earth in the few minutes
it takes for us to catch our breath." The blonde soothed. "Won't you sit down
with us?"
"He's getting further away all the time."
"Grinding yourself and us into the dirt with exhaustion before we reach the
spy isn't going to do anyone any good." She countered, studying him.
"I know that." Fox's voice broke on the last word. "I'm sorry. It's just..."
He tipped his face up full into the light, rocking slightly on his heels. "Your
Warrior Princess will still be there if we take a little longer, Gabrielle, but
Alex is going to be making a break for the border as soon as he's close
enough."
Strange that Fox would use the man's first name, the bard noted. "If Lord
Wellington isn't worried about what the spy might know...is it really that
important you catch him." She tested.
"HE DECEIVED ME!" The accusation roared out before Fox took hold of his
temper and forced his expression back to blank fatigue. "He's stole my horse,
my weapons, my uniform...Skinner gave me that pistol!" A French curse strong
enough to burn the bard's ears hissed out. He really wasn't thinking straight
anymore.
"And..." Gabrielle gestured with her hand. "It's about more than you, Fox."
A guilty glance in his fiancee's direction made him add. "...and Dana's
diary."
The redhead gaped in surprise that he even thought to mention it, despite
the storyteller's prodding, let alone use her name. Dana wasn't sure she'd ever
heard him speak her given name aloud before this.
His eyes were closed, pointed straight at the sun. "It's a matter of honour,
Gabrielle. I can't let him live, not after what he did." A shudder ran through
Mulder's tall frame. "I trusted him, damn it." The last came out as an
unconscious, whispered confession
She gazed up at the tall man. There had to more involved in this hunt for
the French spy than Fox was admitting. None of the things he mentioned were
worth the kind of fury he was displaying and the remark about 'trust' was
rather peculiar. "Fox." Gabrielle almost whispered, forcing him to pay
attention. "Why don't you give Dana a hand with her pack and we'll head down
into town." Her voice coaxed.
"Sure. Fine. Whatever." Mulder snatched up the indicated bundle from where
Dana had set it and hooked it over one shoulder. He turned on his heel and
started walking.
The women pushed reluctantly to their feet. They exchanged a brief, tired
gaze.
"Just a little further, Dana." The blonde promised before returning her
attention to her other problem. Gabrielle had to take a couple of quick steps
to catch up to Fox if she wanted to speak to him. "I'm getting the impression
from the people I've been talking to that we've by-passed Major Sharpe's lot
entirely." She observed.
"It doesn't matter." Fox studied the dirt under his feet. "Their mission was
to find the Warrior Princess so wherever she is they'll be close by even if
they came in from another direction. We may even have cut needless travelling
out by taking this route. I should be able to pick up the trail from her
position." He was almost mumbling, embarrassed by his earlier outburst.
Dana forced her tired legs into action once more, trailing in the wake of
William and Gabrielle. Maybe he had been right back at the camp. So far she had
done nothing but slow the storyteller down. Gabrielle was kind to pretend as if
the stops were something she would have done anyway but Dana knew better. A
sharp bolt of pain shot up from her heel. Dana really was trying her best but
if she didn't get more than a ten-minute breather soon she was going to
collapse. When harvest time rolled around at home the hard labour was always
supported by good meals and encouraging praise. Right now the only thing that
kept her from falling down was imagining the look of contempt that William
would turn on her. The boy's back home would never treat her like this. They
knew she'd rip a strip off their hides and strangle them with it if they
offended Dana Katherine Scully. The unfortunate side effect of her reputation
was that every one of those same boys turned into fawning fools around her.
"Just like you're doing with William." Dana frowned. There had to be a middle
ground but she was just too tired and discouraged to look for it right now.
"There." Mulder pointed with the barrel of his rifle. His free hand dropped
to rest at the small of Gabrielle's back, guiding her. "The tavern is the two
story with the out-buildings behind it."
Gabrielle stepped forward quickly to evade the casual touch, knowing how it
would look to Dana. "Is it just a tavern or is it an inn as well?"
"It's both." Fox shouldered his weapon. His earlier scouting of the area had
shown it harmless. "I suppose we could stay long enough to eat."
Gabrielle made no comment aloud but booking a room was a foregone conclusion
unless the news was startling and they had to act immediately. A locked door
would cancel out the need for someone to sit up at watch while the others
rested.
Curious eyes turned their way as the trio walked down into the town. They
made quite the picture... the tall, lanky man and the two small, foreign women.
Gabrielle's indiscriminately offered bright smile and the fact Dana wore a
British soldier's uniform drew even more attention.
Once inside the cool, dark interior of the tavern Dana nearly dropped into
one of the hard chairs. She watched William guide the storyteller to the bar.
He then hovered about her as she talked to the owner.
A young boy was called over to the grouping, given some orders, then
dispatched. The child ran out the door a moment later. William seemed to be
gazing after the messenger as if he wanted to follow.
Gabrielle drifted over to where her newest friend sat. The blonde shrugged
out of her pack and set all of her loose gear on the floor beside them. "That
little boy who just left is going to get us the location Xena was last seen at.
We can't do anything until he returns." Gabrielle informed. "How about we get a
decent meal while we're waiting for him?"
"Yes, thank you." Dana leaned back into the curved wood.
"Fox!" Gabrielle called to him. "There's nothing we can do right now. Sit
down and eat while we've got time."
Mulder's mouth opened then shut again without a comment escaping.
"I'm buying." Gabrielle bribed in a husky voice earning a ghost of smile
from the man.
"Please William." Dana asked softly. "I haven't heard from Samantha since I
left home. Did she see you off on your journey? How is she? She told me about
that tumble she took from her horse and breaking her arm. I was worried." Maybe
talking about his sister was the best way to begin.
He took a defensive step backwards.
The stark white of the sling supporting Sam's arm had caught his eye the
first moment Fox came in the door. The blackening about his little sister's
eyes wasn't so obvious as it had already begun fading. Sam hadn't even tried to
blame it on a riding accident to him. No horse in Father's stable was a match
for Sam's equestrian abilities. Besides, after all his experience Fox knew the
signs. Mother refused to look him straight in the eye and offered only the
briefest 'welcome home' hug. Father had glared at his eldest from across the
room, daring him to say anything. Samantha clung, whispering a request that
'could he please stay home until his ship sailed' and 'how he'd best wash the
smell of the Indians off and dress properly for dinner' because Father was in a
bad mood.
"I'm not hungry." Fox's stomach had clenched up into a tight knot making the
statement true. He retreated further. The sooner he married this girl staring
up at him and sent her home, the sooner he could tell Sam to join his new wife
in Ireland...getting her out of Father's reach. The problem was all he wanted
to do was run for the not so distant hills. "I'm going to look around. Be ready
to go as soon as that kid comes back." Fox tossed Dana's pack to the floor,
turned and walked out of the building.
"He hates me. I shouldn't have come."
"He doesn't even know you." Gabrielle countered quickly. The sadness in
Dana's tone was painful. She patted the younger girl's arm. "I know you're
trying. That you've kept up so far proves how strong your commitment is. Don't
be so hard on yourself."
With a weary sigh the blue eyes closed. "I wish I was more like you,
Gabrielle. I wish you could teach me how."
"Don't judge yourself by me. I've been at this a lot longer than you have.
Strength comes in many different forms, Dana." It felt odd. For so many years
Gabrielle had followed Xena around trying to learn the secret to the older
woman's self-confidence, only to discover that there was no trick involved,
only time and experience. This girl is like a rippled reflection of her own
distant past.
"When I was a little girl..." Dana had laid her coppery head down on her
arms. "I thought my Da was a towering tree of a man." Her voice was
introspective. "I found out as I got older that he wasn't. He's shorter and
rounder than I thought. He's got no head for money and a weakness for
sure-things that never are...but by the Sidhe...he loves Ma, Melissa and me
with every bit of his soul, so it doesn't really matter." Dana squirmed to get
more comfortable. "Still, I've always had this picture in the back of my mind
of a tall, handsome man. The kind of man that turns every head when he walks
into a room. Who's..." She yawned. "Smart...and sure of himself."
Gabrielle smiled.
"William, he looks just like my picture. Weird, huh? My family needs
somebody to make things work again... an' he's so..."
Gabrielle thought for a moment that she had fallen asleep but Dana murmured
out one more word.
"...incredible."
The bard crooked her fingers, catching the innkeeper's attention. "I'd like
some supper please, and two rooms if you have the space."
SHARPE: "If Harper was here he'd have me tent up...and the tea brewing
... and me bed turned down."
The smell of dinner lead Sharpe to the place Harper had chosen to camp
more surely than any noise or light. Seven rabbits were roasting on spits over
the fire. A pot filled with eggs and boiling water bubbled down in coals
surrounded by roasting tubers. As soon as Richard spied out where Patrick was
sitting he all but ran to the Irishman's side. That made Colonel Mulder halt,
leaving Sharpe's company as soon as Richard's destination became clear.
"You've no idea how glad I am to see you, Pat." The blonde Major tossed his
jacket down where the rest of his gear sat waiting.
"It must be hard, Sir...being so irresistible." Came the amused, whispered
comment.
"Enough already, Pat." The warning was close to a plea. "There's a large
French column that's been marching back and forth not far from here." Richard
turned the topic. "We need to keep a close watch tonight... although Rameriez
says they've stayed north of here so far and they aren't sending scouts too far
from the main force."
"They want to draw the Warrior Princess into trying to attack them." Patrick
reasoned.
"Considering how rough they're being with locals while they're foraging
that's a good guess." Sharpe covertly looked about, trying to see where Mulder
was. The younger man had settled down just inside the reach of firelight. The
sun was close to setting and the Colonel probably wanted to see. He had
extracted the small burgundy book that he had been sneaking peeks at all day.
"After dinner we should put out the fire." Richard remarked.
Their commander looked up at just that moment, intercepting Sharpe's gaze.
"I'm thinking..." The younger man began in a voice loud enough for all to hear.
"...that tomorrow we should keep well clear of the French column. Your contact
was quite adamant that it was a very large group, Major. Considering the size
of the company the Warrior Princess isn't likely to take them on. What we need
to turn up is a smaller patrol that she's likely to attack. If we shadowed a
three or four man outfit the chances of finding her nearby are higher."
Sharpe wondered how clearly Mulder had heard his exchange with Pat.
"As you say, Sir." Harper took Mulder's attention onto himself, inclining
his head in feigned politeness. "Then you'll be tracking a group of the buggers
down for us in the morning." He stated. "I'm sure none of us lads are anywhere
near the trail readers that you are, Sir."
The small book snapped shut. "Of course, Sergeant Harper. There's quite a
few things that you obviously need to learn." Aleksandr sneered. It was a pity
that Ducos didn't have a price on this one's head instead of Richard's. Mixing
business with pleasure was one of the few joys in Alek's life. He reached over
to snag the stick holding the largest roasted hare. Aleksandr was going to need
his strength tonight. He had a lot of ground to cover. "Douse the fire,
Perkins." He ordered the youngest of the men. "We don't have dinner enough to
share with the French."
Richard and Patrick exchanged a loaded look, convinced Mulder was just
echoing what he had overheard from them.
"Eat up lads." Major Sharpe picked out a cony for himself, signalling that
they should all help themselves. The rabbits and some bread bought at the
farmhouse disappeared first bringing a temporary silence. As the coals began to
cool Richard attempted to fish a roasted yam out. He caught hold of the
blackened root only to drop it again with a muffled yelp of pain. Damn but the
thing was hot.
Snickers of amusement erupted from the men at their Major's frantic waving
of his injured hand. Perkins actually choked briefly on a sip of tea.
"Son of a bitch! Pipe down...the lot of you." Sharpe snapped. "It weren't
funny. That bloody well hurt." He complained.
Aleksandr's lazy drawl slipped into a break in the now-muffled amusement.
"Aww...did the nasty bad fire hurt the poor Major's paw?" He grinned
mischievously. "Would the Major like me to kiss it better?" His lips pursed
with suggestion.
The words and attitude set the lads to whooping with laughter once more.
Sharpe stood speechless at the officer's clandestine proposition.
Alek's pulse rate jumped. "Jesus fucking Christ, just this once say yes and
I'll run my tongue over any bit of skin you offer, gorgeous." His mind skidded
out of control. What would he give for an hour in the dark of the woods with
the handsome Major? But then he wouldn't have an excuse not to carry out Ducos'
kill order in the unguarded aftermath. He didn't want to murder Richard for
several reasons...the strongest of which was the prospect of Harper hunting him
down afterwards. The snarling Irishman scared him shitless.
"It's fine." Sharpe's gaze flicked from the laughing men, to Mulder's mock
sympathetic frown, then across to where Harper sat. "I'm fine." "I'm going to
kill him. Tomorrow, I going to kill him myself."
Knowing the pattern behind Mulder's actions, Patrick wasn't amused. The big
man had set aside the remains of his meal and picked up his rifle and cleaning
rag. "That's always the way of things..." He began vaguely. "Our officers are
forever suffering mishaps...both minor and large." Patrick's voice raised to
expound to the entire group. "It makes me think it's just as well we're to be
avoiding the frogs on this trip. Our record with brand new officers is
especially bad." He addressed Cooper, who just happened to look up at that
moment. "Do ya' recall the Colonel we got a few months back, the one with the
pointed face?" Harper asked. "Colonel Spender...just a young, green kid.
Wouldn't you know he took a shot to the back of his head in his first battle."
Cooper nodded slowly, catching onto the game the Sergeant wanted to play.
"Yeah...it were the strangest thing. Colonel Spender must have been running
from the French...to take a ball in the back like that."
"Must have." Patrick agreed. "Though I can't clearly recall him turning that
stiff back of his on anyone but us. Maybe the shot did some kind of odd sort of
ricochet."
"I've seen that happen." Hagman joined in, lazily nodding confirmation.
"Musket balls are funny things."
"Yeap. Nothing can compare to a proper rifle...like we carry...when we
follow our noble officers into battle." At every pause Harper dared a quick
peek at their Colonel.
"Then there was that other one a while ago." Cooper kept at it. "Major
Colton, wasn't it?"
That name brought an overly dramatic wince to Harper's face. "Aye. There
weren't much left of that poor soul after he took that tumble from the
cliff...just bits of white bone sticking out of a red smear." Harper noticed
with some pleasure that a satisfying crease now marked Mulder's smooth brow.
"His face was so crushed as to make an identification impossible. His Lordship
had nothing to rely on but our word when it came to saying who it was and what
happened to the poor bugger."
Major Sharpe settled back in the shadows behind Patrick with a cool cloth
pressed to his damaged hand. It was a relief to have Pat taunting someone else
for a change.
"Things just happen on the trail." Cooper observed aloud.
"And in war." Harper agreed. "There was poor Colonel Lawford." The burly
Sergeant stared straight at their new officer. "The Major here had to hack off
the Colonel's arm after Ciudad Rodrigo to save him. That's a mighty painful
experience for a man to go through... don't you think so...Colonel?"
Alek couldn't help but shudder in reaction to that circumstance. The idea of
being crippled absolutely terrified him.
"Being an officer is mighty risky business, from what I've seen. I listened
to Major Sharpe's lessons." Young Perkins jumped in, eager to join the
conversation although he didn't really understand the others' intentions. "Aim
at the officers first."
Aleksandr fought down the urge to toss a knife at the smug grin the Sergeant
was now wearing. A parting shot would be satisfying but incredibly foolish.
There was a French column not too far away. These sons of bitches were getting
on his nerves. Sharpe wasn't giving him any reason to delay his departure. Alek
looked about. Best of all, and rare in it's foolishness, the paranoid bastards
hadn't got round to setting up their pickets yet. Now was the time to get the
hell out of here. "I'm going to clean up." Aleksandr announced flatly. Let them
think their childish tactics had gotten to him. "There's a stream just a little
ways over there." He gestured. Alek had noticed it on the way back from
checking out Sharpe's last contact. His boots were going to get soaked but if
he ran down the waterway a fair bit before striking out north it would confuse
the issue of his disappearance a little longer. It wouldn't hurt to be able to
claim it all as a misunderstanding if, for any reason, Sharpe caught up with
him. Alek hunched his shoulders and put a chastised slink in his steps. Let
them think their teasing was the cause of his retreat.
With the outsider gone from their circle, the men's chatter drifted into a
more comfortable stage.
Harris, who had kept quiet during the Mulder baiting, finally joined the
conversation. "This isn't the first time I've ever heard of a woman called 'The
Warrior Princess'." He began.
Sharpe slid forward, rejoining the group.
"There's an ancient Greek legend that uses that same title."
"Whacha mean, Harris?" Cooper frowned. The other man's stories tended to get
too highbrow unless the occasional question was asked.
"Greece is a country on the far side of the Mediterranean Sea that has a lot
of history." Harris clarified. "Some say Greece is the cradle of modern
civilisation."
"A priest tried to teach me history once. It was bloody dry stuff, even with
all the begettings." Cooper complained.
"Shut it, Cooper." Hagman shoved slightly. "Tell us about her Harris."
"The tales were set a long time ago...back when giants and magic was thought
to be real." Harris started again. "This Warrior Princess was the leader of an
army and she was trying to take over the whole countryside...just like
Bonaparte. She could fight better than any man in her army and the towns were
falling before her forces like wheat before a hailstorm." He leaned forward.
"The Princess was just a few steps away from being downright evil when a
miraculous change came over her. A righteous warrior showed her she was on the
wrong path."
"So she just needed a husband to pull her into line, then." Cooper decided
aloud, earning himself another thump for interrupting.
"No. No." Harris shook his shaggy, red-topped head. "After the Warrior
Princess decided to chuck the evil emperor business she hooked up with a
beautiful, female bard." He paused. "That's like a storyteller or a balladeer."
Came the explanation. "Anyway, after that the Warrior Princess started
travelling about with this girl...fighting for the common folk against all the
other evils in the world to make up for her past misdeeds." He concluded.
"Them Greek types Harris is talking about...they weren't soldiers, not like
us. They sound more like bandits." Perkins turned to Richard with a frown of
confusion. "They didn't have rifles back then either, did they Major Sharpe?"
"It isn't the weapon that says if you're a soldier or not." Richard
explained. "Teresa never usually bothered with a rifle...her pistol and blades
did her just fine. I'd say she had the heart of true warrior."
"That she did Sir." Hagman commented. "A damned fine woman she was."
Harper started to chuckle. "So...do you think you could convert her and set
La Princesa Guerrera on the straight and narrow, Major Sharpe, Sir?" He
grinned.
"I said a righteous warrior." Harris sniggered. "Besides, where around here
are we going to find a lady singer to hook the Princesa up with afterwards?"
"Laugh it up, lads." Richard mock-growled. "The pair of you are looking good
for a double turn at watch right about now."
Their attempts to seem meekly repentant were even less convincing than
Sharpe's anger, but then that was the whole point of the scenario. They
continued on in that same tone until full dark and the nearby hoot of an owl
made the lateness of the hour clear.
Harris was the one to gaze out into the black of the woods. "Excuse me,
Sir." He looked to Sharpe. "But hasn't the Colonel been gone a bit too long?"
That silenced all of them.
"Shite. Knowing our luck the damned fool has drowned in the bloody stream or
gotten himself lost." Richard rose to his feet. "Harper, you stay here. He's
more like to hide if he sees you coming after him. Perkins, help the Sergeant
secure the site. Cooper you're with me. Harris and Hagman take a bit to the
right." He swore vividly. "Let's find the silly bugger before the French do."
(To Mulder): "You kindly think of yourself as single-minded but you're
prone to obsessive compulsiveness, workaholism, antisocialism... Fertile fields
for the descent into total wacko breakdown."
Gabrielle noticed when Mulder returned to the tavern but chose not to
acknowledge him as he crossed the floor to where she stood, by the bar.
"I saw the kid come back." Fox stated after she had ignored him for an
entire minute. "Where is he? What did he say?:
Gabrielle turned, looking up at the tired man. "I've got directions to where
she was last sighted...and, yes, there is a small British patrol headed her
way." She braced for an argument. "We'll move out first thing in the morning. I
took two rooms for the night. Dana and I can share one, you can have the
other."
His eyes closed and he turned his face away, a carefully controlled
movement. "You have no right to hold me back like this, Gabrielle. You're not
being fair." Fox's tone had gone completely flat.
She looked down. As expected, both his hands were balled into fists and his
arms trembled slightly. "I'm tired and you're exhausted, Fox." The woman
reasoned. "Going into a dangerous situation in the shape we're in would be
foolish...if not suicidal."
"That's my decision to make." A shout threatened but he was holding it back.
"No. It's not." The Amazon stood firm. "I don't know where you got the idea
that you were in charge of this expedition...but get over it." She kept the
scolding as sisterly as possible. "If you want to go tonight and spend tomorrow
chasing your tail I can't stop you, Fox, but I won't go along and watch you die
because you're too tired to do the job properly."
"FINE!" The shout erupted. "Tell me what the boy said and I'll go alone."
Gabrielle waited, watching his face for a brief moment of control before
speaking. "No. Learn Spanish, find the kid if you can, and ask him yourself."
Gods, but he was a lot like Xena in a temper. Yeah, there was the hot flash of
fire in his eyes and the tightening of the jaw. She almost laughed but he would
have misunderstood it as cruelty. The heavy bottom-lip pout he turned on the
floor cracked Gabrielle's sense of deja vu. His next action ground it to
powder.
Mulder stomped away, threw himself down into the chair across from where
Dana had passed out and quite purposefully kicked the table. The redhead jerked
upright with a squeak of panic at the strange surroundings and violence of her
awakening.
"William? What's going on?" Dana blinked, trying to catch her bearings.
"Absolutely, piss all, nothing...as if you'd know, having slept the
afternoon away." Mulder's voice was savage. "It's your fault we have to stop
for the night. I knew you'd slow us down."
Still half-asleep and feeling quite wretched, Dana Katherine Scully wasn't
about to take that kind of abuse from any man, no matter how rich and handsome
he was. "You are such a self-centred ass." Dana's nose wrinkled. "It makes my
head hurt to listen to you."
Gabrielle had to reach up and smother the cheer of encouragement that the
scene being played out provoked from her. "That's the way, Dana. Stand up to
him and demand some respect."
"Pardon?" Fox sat up straight.
"Holy Mary, my neck is sore." Dana wiped more of the sleep out of her eyes,
stretching in her chair. She noticed William's shocked expression and her
cheeks flamed bright red. "William! I'm sorry. I'm just out of sorts." She
verbally back-pedalled.
"No Dana!" Gabrielle protested internally. "Showing weakness just makes him
more aggressive." The girl definitely needed lessons in Fox-handling.
Sure enough, Mulder's sneer returned at the symbolic baring of his fiancee's
throat. "Thanks to you we have to stay the night here." He repeated.
Gabrielle waded into the fray. "It's not just Dana. We all need a good
night's sleep." The blonde settled into the empty chair nearest to Dana. "And
hot food." She had already told the innkeeper to bring out two more meals as
soon as Mulder returned.
The food was consumed in relative silence. Fox picked at the plate set
before him while Dana ate every scrap and wiped up the leavings with a hunk of
bread.
"I got rooms." Gabrielle told Dana when her consumption slowed down. "We're
closer than I expected. We can afford the time."
Although she didn't say anything aloud, the relief was clear in Dana's
bright eyes. A two-hour nap on the table had taken the painful edge off her
exhaustion but a good night's rest would help her to keep up tomorrow.
Gabrielle climbed to her feet and set to gathering up her share of the gear.
"You're not eating Fox...you're playing. How about we all pack it in so we can
get out just past dawn?" She suggested.
"Yeah. Whatever." Mulder's actions were growing more sluggish every minute.
He climbed to his feet, hitched his pack into place, and picked up the lamp off
their table. A sullen frown was on his face.
Dana copied the loading, taking a lamp from the bar to light the girl's
bedroom.
The three of them headed to the stairs, Mulder in the lead and Gabrielle
last. Fox grumbled to himself as he walked. When he stumbled partway up Dana
reached out to steady her future husband.
Mulder's shoulder shrugged off the fingers. "Leave me be. You're the reason
we have to move so slow." He grumped.
"We're all weary William." The young Irish woman replied.
He turned on the step, between his already considerable height and the rise
he was a towering figure. "And stop calling me William, god damn it!" His one
free hand lifted. "You're not my mother."
It could be that he would have aborted the shove but Gabrielle wasn't taking
any chances, considering the man's foul mood. Her staff shot past Dana to stop
just short of breaking his nose. "Fox." The bard's tone was calm and firm. "I
know you're worn out and not thinking straight." She shifted the tip of her
staff to knock lightly against his still-raised arm. "But if you ever hit Dana
I will hurt you worse than you've ever been hurt before."
"Not bloody likely." Mulder countered, but his gravely whisper conveyed
sadness rather than challenge. "I've been worked over by experts. Nobody could
do me much worse." With a brief roll of his shoulders Fox's stiff posture
collapsed in on itself. "I'm sorry Gabrielle." He turned away and climbed the
rest of the steps alone.
"You okay, Dana?" Gabrielle asked when the other didn't move right away. She
noticed how dejected the Irish woman looked. What was Fox thinking? His apology
should have been given to the person he'd actually offended. He needs to see
her as something other than a useless tagalong. "I know it even took you a
while to believe that about me, my love.."
"Aye." The redhead mounted the stairs slowly, her lamp held high. "Somebody
hurt him badly, I'm guessing." She said softly. "I've seen men like that back
home...who hit first, then regret it. They usually learned it as kids." They
reached the landing in time to hear him fall heavily onto a creaking bed.
"Don't you think so?"
"My father..." Gabrielle began, then thought better of it. "You're right.
Someone hurt him." She opened the door to their room and glanced inside. It
wasn't fancy but it was clean. Gabrielle entered first, looking about to settle
her mind that all was as it should be before she crooked her fingers, bringing
Dana in behind her. As the bard had requested earlier, several pitchers of
water, a couple of basins and fresh towels were waiting. She had ordered the
same for Fox but it didn't sound as if he had bothered to clean up. At this
point the man was probably asleep already. He had looked at his rope's end.
Gabrielle spared only a quick look to make sure Dana had locked the door
before stripping down. There was no way she was going to bed with grit stuck to
her skin.
While the blonde cleaned up, Dana dug into her own pack for a fresh shirt
she could sleep in. The one she had on could stand a rinse and it should be dry
by morning. "Are you going to join the Warrior Princess' fight against the
French, Gabrielle? Or are you here to make new tales of the war?"
"I'm here for Xena." A damp washcloth smoothed over skin. It felt good. "The
war isn't any of my concern, my friend is." Gabrielle dipped into the water
again. "I need to make her realise what the constant hating and fighting is
doing to her...and that she should stop."
"Very few people enjoy war." Dana sat on the edge of the bed. The lamp on
the nightstand threw half her face into stark shadow. Those were strange
sentiments considering the woman before her was definitely a fighter as well as
a bard. A finely toned body like that didn't come from taking bows and walking
the roads...no matter how long the marches were. Gabrielle obviously knew how
to handle herself in a scrap. The incident on the stairs was proof of that.
Dana hiked her heels up onto the bed and wrapped her arms around her legs. Her
attention, caught by the action of the washcloth, eagerly followed the curve of
a pert breast. The Irish woman squeezed her legs tight against the hot flush
that the sight was provoking in her and concentrated on what she had been
saying. It was neither the time nor place for thoughts like those. "If
honourable people don't offer defence then the true villains will take
control."
"I understand the need to fight, but even honourable people...especially
honourable people...need to stand back and examine their motives periodically
or they risk loosing themselves. Possibly to what they are fighting against."
"And if Xena decides to keep fighting will you stay or go?" Dana asked. She
attempted to stifle her physical reaction to the beautiful blonde by trying to
concentrate on more intellectual questions. The motion of the sopping cloth
hesitated over Gabrielle's flat stomach causing Dana's chest to tighten. Her
fingers clenched in the blanket she sat on.
"I don't know. But I'm sure I can get her to change her motivation. This
needs to be about the greater good, not Xena's need for vengeance. I can make
her understand that."
"How?"
"Because I've done it before." The bard responded.
"And she'll stop just because you say she should?"
Gabrielle paused to look over at her companion, surprised by Dana's flushed
cheeks and contrary stance. "Because it's the right thing to do." She resumed
scrubbing up.
"So you say." The young woman repeated. "If you ask the Spanish civilians
whether they care WHY La Princesa Guerrera is fighting you might be surprised
at the answer. I don't know much about the whys and wherefores of this campaign
but a lot of good men stand on the English side of it and I doubt they're doing
this for fun."
"There's just as many good men on the French side who think they're doing
the right thing. They're not all monsters. That's why it comes down to
motivations. Too many are in this conflict simply for land and property. No one
is protecting the people caught in the middle. That's what Xena was doing at
the start, when I first met her. I can live with the situation...IF that's her
reason."
"Why should it matter what the players motivations are as long as the end
result is that the common people are taken care of...as long as someone is
fighting for them?" Dana noticed the intense green stare she was receiving and
her face dropped into shadow. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you angry."
"I'm not angry." Gabrielle carefully rinsed off the soap from her arms and
chest. "Well, not entirely." "I'm just curious as to why you'll question me
over something you don't have much knowledge of but you let Fox trample over
you with every sentence." The bard slipped out of her underwear, tossed them
into one of the basins and set to cleaning between her legs.
Dana's breath caught in her throat. It had been too long since she'd taken
comfort in another body and between Gabrielle's unconsciously arousing display
and handsome William's occasional presence that fact was fast becoming painful.
The Irish woman forced herself to look away, glancing at the thin wall that
separated them from her fiancee. She wondered if he could hear them.
"He's already unconscious, I suspect." Gabrielle presumed she knew Dana's
thoughts from her guilty expression. "You need to know..." The older girl
began. "Fox is never going to be happy with this docile façade you've
shown him and you're going to be miserable...having to live like that." It was
so much easier dealing with Fox and Dana's problems than thinking about the
doubts that the other woman had raised. "You stood up for yourself at the
start. You're being here with us is proof of that." Gabrielle reminded. "If you
want his attention...his respect..." She ran the washcloth between her toes.
"You've got to earn it. Stand up to him, Dana, or he's going to keep bullying
you." Water slopped on the floor. "His contempt...it's a short step away from
abuse. We saw that on the stairs. The man needs someone just as strong as
him...if not stronger."
"Look at me." Dana held out fragile hands. "I can't Gabrielle. He's twice my
size and a trained soldier."
"I don't mean it like that." The blonde wrung out her wet underwear. "You've
got a stubborn streak, Dana. I'll bet you've a temper to match it. If he
whines, tell him he's being childish. If he shouts, yell back. And by the Gods,
if he's making a mistake or acting unreasonably, call him on it. Put your
opinion out there. You don't have to take that kind of crap from him and I'm
sure he doesn't want a woman who would."
Dana stared at the nude woman, trying to order her thoughts. "You sound so
certain."
"Yeah, well..." Gabrielle hooked her underwear over the post at the foot of
the bed to dry then dug out her least soiled shirt. "When I first got together
with my partner I just followed. I didn't pick the path we took or what we
did...and I ended up resentful of my lack of control in our lives." She pulled
the white shirt over her head but didn't bother to lace up the front. "That was
partly my fault...I let it happen. Things got really bad before we came to an
understanding and I became a equal partner instead of just a friend and
eventually...a lover." A smile curved Gabrielle's pink lips. "That's what Fox
wants, and I think you do too."
Dana couldn't help but notice that the blonde's damp nipples were clearly
outlined through the thin fabric. "Where is your man now, Gabrielle?" The
question was hesitant.
"Not too far away." The bard crawled under the covers on the far side from
where Dana was sitting. "I'm absolutely drained. Lower the wick on the lamp
before you turn in, please and thank you, but don't put it out. We may need the
light...and Dana..."
"Yes?"
"I never said my lover was a man."
The fair hair hit the pillow and didn't move again all the time that Dana
sat there trying to decide if she'd heard what she thought she'd heard and how
it changed things.
SKINNER: "I was hoping you could give me some insight into Agent
Mulder's recent behaviour."
Watching his feet and squinting against the icy wind, he wasn't paying
attention to where he was going. The path was familiar enough that the hulking
obstacle William bounced off of took him by complete surprise. He ended up on
his sore arse in a foot of crusty snow.
A man, a heavily muscled mountain of a man in rough fur and leather, stared
down at the gangly teenage boy sprawled at his boots. William crab-scrambled
backwards in fright before the face could be extracted from his near perfect
memory. He was a trapper that had been hanging about the neighbour's place
since Fall, one of pretty Sharon's many suitors.
"The other one...he looks worse, right?" Skinner lifted the boy to his feet
without effort.
"What?"
A surprisingly gentle fingertip indicated Mulder's blackened eye and purpled
cheek and jaw. How could the man go without mittens in this weather? William
flinched away from the contact. "Don't touch me!" He turned his back on the
sympathy.
The change in direction brought William to a confusing view of the
pot-bellied stove and rough wood wall inside Skinner's home. The howl of the
wind had vanished, as had his heavy coat and the watery light of the sun.
Instead William could hear the drip of melting ice outside and the scent of
Skinner's maple syrup baked beans was strong in his nose.
"Sit. Brace yourself." The older man ordered. "Ready?" Large hands settled
at William's shoulder and popped a dislocated shoulder back into place. God. It
got easier every time to shift it back in.
William's scream was still embarrassingly high and shrill.
"I know...I know..." Skinner offered up a battered metal flask. The big
man's brown eyes were flat in the low light of the cabin. "Which of them was it
this time? Your teacher or your Papa?"
"The Major wouldn't dare. He never leaves evidence...not that Father would
be able to see right off." William wiped away tears with the back of his hand,
ignoring the offered alcohol as he almost always did. "The new baby cried all
night..." What was Mother thinking, still trying to have children this late in
life.. "Father didn't get any sleep. He sat downstairs." "Drinking."
Skinner rumbled and tucked the flask away. "That's no excuse Kid."
They were outside again. How many days later was this? They stood beside the
lake, studying the surface for change. His shoulder still hurt but now his nose
throbbed painfully too.
"You don't have to take this crap." Skinner looked too old, more like he had
appeared the last few times they'd been together. The town behind him wasn't
put together properly either. Not too far off he could see the completed spire
of what must be the new church, but it still hadn't been finished before he
left for France. In another direction the Byers family was in the middle of
building their place, however that had been the year William was only ten. He
could almost hear the workman shouting. None of this made any sense. It was too
early in the year for construction. If the ice was still on the lake then how
come a group of children were stringing daisy chains just up the slope from
them? Damn this was a muddled mess.
"First of all...I want you to start ditching that old bastard who calls
himself a teacher." Skinner continued, oblivious to his young friend's
distress. "As soon as the ice breaks me and Frohike are out of here."
"NO!" The teenager's wailed. "Don't leave me." But Skinner didn't seem to
even notice the panicked outburst.
"You're coming with us Kid. I'll clear it with that Father of yours somehow.
Trust me. It's time you learned about life outside that hell you live in. I
think you've a lot to learn from Frohike...and maybe I can teach you a thing or
two. It'll be bloody hard work and the men might rag at you some, but then home
isn't any better."
"Mother needs me." It was a token objection. Mother had little interest in
him since passed the stage curling up on her lap to fall asleep. Mother loved
babies and small children. That's probably why she persisted in bringing more
poor little souls into their family despite the inevitable results.
"WILS!" Samantha appeared as if conjured, lisping around her two missing
front teeth as she ran and threw herself into his arms.
The force knocked him backward into the polished wood framing the inside of
their front door. Lord she was getting heavy. He grinned and squeezed her
tight. Sam had made it to seven years old, which was a good sign it was safe to
love her. None of the others had ever got past five. There was a real chance
she might be a survivor, like him.
"Whacha bring me this time?" Little fingers tugged at his soiled rucksack.
Father appeared in the high gilded archway to their right and glared at the
unseemly noise from his daughter... and his son's scruffy state. Samantha
wilted. A flick of her father's grim visage had her retreating to the kitchen.
"You're back again." William Senior sneered but the ever-present cigarette in
the corner of his mouth barely moved. The expression simply cut the seams in
his face even deeper than usual. "For how long this time?"
"Just for a little while, Sir." Fox replied. Fox now, not William, not Kid.
"I can stay at the inn if you'd prefer or with Jan's family." There was always
room for one more at the Byers dinner table and Mr. Byers was a jolly soul to
be around. He was one of the few folks hereabouts that Father didn't own.
The old man stalked him, edging closer with short predatory movements. "You
think you're so smart. You think you've outgrown us." A finger poked out,
stabbing into a suddenly narrower chest. Mulder's buckskins expanded to hang
off him like a child's dress up costume. Father menaced him. "It doesn't work
that way, Boy. I created you. You're nothing but a shadow of me."
"That's not true." He protested. Father had never actually said that, had
he?
"Don't you ever back talk me." William Senior lifted his son by the collar
and slammed him several times into the heavy entrance door. "I say what you
learn, what you do, and who you do it with."
"Now that didn't work out quite the way he'd planned." An amused laugh
bubbled up nearby. "Do you want to tell him what we did Foxy..." Alex Krycek
sat cross-legged on the floor gazing up at the frozen scene. "...or should I?"
"Alex how could you?" Mulder struggled, his feet dangled above the tile
floor. "I thought we connected. You listened to me."
"Of course I listened to you, moi Lista. That's my job." Alex smiled
indulgently. "You don't think anyone would bother to pay any attention to you
unless they had to? Buy yourself a clue, Liubovnik."
"Actually..." Skinner lounged against the polished banister of the stairs.
"I should find J
an. It's really his place to break the news. He was your first guy, wasn't he
Kid? Your Papa's gonna love hearing about that. Last I heard he was down in New
York. Oh, but then he's not likely to come rushing eagerly to your side is he?
Considering you smacked him around pretty badly over that argument about
Eyota."
That couldn't be right. His big fight with Jan wasn't until they were both
twenty-six. That was years away, wasn't it? "I said I was sorry." Fox hadn't
meant to hurt Jan as badly as he did, he was just trying to...
"Establish dominance." A strangely dressed figure stepped out of the shadows
near the stairway. The face was frighteningly surreal with a sharp, hooked
raptor's beak and a high crown of bright feathers. A shapely arm lifted and
pushed back the elaborate hawk headdress and mask combination revealing
Gabrielle's beautiful face and a hint of golden hair. It made a kind of twisted
sense that the woman wore some kind of bizarre native costume; a reddish brown
leather halter, short skirt and gauntlets, a crudely-made necklace and
feathered straps on her upper arms. She paced a few steps closer then halted
and firmly planted her staff at her side. Her chin lifted, a haughty, regal
movement. "Well you did that. Poor, town-raised Jan didn't stand a chance
against you thanks to Skinner's training." Gabrielle finished the thought. She
glared with cold green eyes. "Just like Father dearest taught you to do."
Skinner actually looked pleased at the compliment to his teachings. That was
definitely wrong. Skinner had been absolutely furious when he'd found out about
the incident.
"You're supposed to be a Fox, not a wolf. You're supposed to be smarter than
this." Gabrielle criticised. "I was just starting to like you too. It's a pity
that you turned out to be such a bully."
"I'm not surprised. Not that I minded, Liubovnik, but you weren't exactly
all kisses and soft touches with me and that was even before you knew the
score." Alex climbed slowly to his feet, took two steps backwards and ran a
speculative gaze up and down the tableau at the doorway. He squinted. A hint of
a smile quirked the corner of his mouth. "Toshe ty bien, toverish." Alex turned
away, walking towards the kitchen and exiting through the narrow doorway.
"If you're all through?" Father grouched at the delay. "I'd like to finish
strangling the little bastard now."
"Be my guest. He's just an ass. Dana is better company anyway." Gabrielle
shook her head sadly then withdrew back into the shadows she had emerged from.
The fingers around his throat tightened. "Skinner! Help me." Mulder pleaded.
"Sooner or later you have to take responsibility for your own actions, Kid."
The balding man admonished. "I taught you everything you need to get past
letting your Papa rule you. It's time to be your own man, not the person he or
anyone else wants you to be. Grow up, Fox."
His arms flailed wildly, protesting the lack of oxygen in his chest. One
fist thumped with a meaty smack and the target swore... in Spanish. Fox thrashed
on the bed, shoving one set of restraining hands away and swallowing a gulp of
air but another body landed on him. He roared in fury, kicking out with still
booted feet at the Spanish cutthroats attacking him.
La Princesa
Guerrera III
by Carla Jane and Jim
XENA: "Even in death, Gabrielle, I will never leave you."
The snow dragged at his legs, making it hard to walk, not that he was in the
best of shape right now, anyway. His extremities were leaden noodles from the
day's 'training'. Standing at perfect attention for two hours with that
wretched military stock about his throat, in the bitter cold of the courtyard,
was murderous. He hadn't been able to suppress his shivers, thereby earning
himself punishment for moving. His ribs were sore from repeated thumps from the
butt of his teacher's wand, which reminded William more of horsewhip than a
pointer. The sweat stained, old drunk was taking out the frustrations of winter
confinement on his student's clumsy, half-grown body. Between the gnarled
ex-Major's roughly inflicted 'lessons' and Father's angry attack yesterday,
William was a mass of aches and bruises.
