Dana wasn't sure what woke her out of the light doze she had fallen
into. It might have been a whimper or the restless shifting of
the body next to her. Being an Earl's daughter, she had been granted
her own bedroom since childhood. During those occasions that Dana
had chosen to share a bed in the last few years it hadn't been
to actually sleep beside another person. "Then there was Thistlemoor's
backfield and the Pendrell's linen closet." Part of her mind
reminded her with a smug smirk.
A pleased sigh slipped out of Gabrielle's barely parted lips.
She squirmed in place, tangling the tossed-back sheet tighter
around bare legs. A few wistful sounding words in a language the
Irish woman didn't recognise murmured out. Gabrielle tugged absently
at her flimsy white shirt, pulling it snugly to the side and revealing
hardened nipples to Dana's observation.
"Holy Brighid." The redhead whispered as she propped
herself up on one elbow. Disregarding the uncomfortable stab of
guilt she felt at the intrusion on Gabrielle's privacy, Dana studied
her sleeping companion. Whoever the storyteller was dreaming about
was one fortunate soul. Dana had never been privy to such an exquisite
scene of arousal. Her own youthful fumblings seemed so dry by
comparison, inadequate when compared to what Dana expected before
entering into the tryst. She couldn't help but envy both Gabrielle
and her dream partner.
The blonde whispered another few words in that liquid sounding
language she was using. Most of it was lost but the name 'Xena'
came out clearly during a particularly sensuous roll of Gabrielle's
hips.
Dana blinked in surprise. "I should have seen this coming."
She told herself, leaning closer. The knowledge that the storyteller
was La Princesa Guerrera's lover made a few of Gabrielle's more
puzzling comments fall into place.
"Missed you." One hand skimmed up Gabrielle's writhing
body, flitting over her hip, stomach, breast and throat. The trembling
fingers ended up tangled in her sweat-dampened golden hair. "Oh
Xena. I love you."
Dana's cheeks felt hot for more than one reason. Her mind was
muddled enough that she barely noticed that the other woman's
breathy exclamations had changed to English. Had she herself ever
looked so helplessly aroused under the attentions of one of her
partners?
"Ah... ah... Xena, please." Gabrielle's body tensed erotically.
Dana stared, chewing at a knuckle to keep from reaching out. Not
with Sean, maybe with Holly. Holly had the advantage of five years
experience and a good deal of sexual tutoring from other members
of the serving staff on Dana.
"NO!" The wail of desolation shattered the mood. "I
can't stay here without her!" The bard was quite suddenly
close to tears.
Without thinking Dana extended a hand to soothe the other woman's
distress but a thrashing arm fended it off. "It's all right."
The redhead sat up the rest of the way. "Take it easy."
She patted a lean, bared leg.
Gabrielle's expression shifted into a determined frown. "Hades,
it's not fair. How can I be content in the afterlife...forever
separated from my reason for being?"
Strangely enough, that first word sounded more like a name than
the curse Dana expected it should mean. Her classical education
helped with the reference, odd as it was. Gabrielle was arguing
with a devil substitute from ancient Greece. As for the 'reason
for being' remark. That one caught in Dana's thoughts and stuck.
What would it be like to love someone so completely that you credited
them with sustaining your existence? Sure, she loved her family.
Da, Mam, and Melissa were the centre of her world, and then there
was William. Dana wanted to believe the time would come when she
cared for him the same, but she wasn't naïve. Right now
her reaction to William was a mixture of wishful thinking and
a gut level physical response to how attractive he was.
"You owe us!" the blonde protested then went frighteningly
still. "NO!" This was anger, but she quickly flipped
back to loss again. "You don't mean that." Gabrielle's
tightly shut eyes leaked tears. "But I love you."
Dana tossed caution and respectability to the wind. She would
deal with the consequences later. For now the Irish woman just
wanted to soothe the hurt in her new friend's voice. "Hush.
It's okay." Dana gathered the weakly struggling form into
her arms. Lord, it felt good in so many ways, only one of which
was purely tactile. Offering comfort made her feel useful after
a day of being nothing more than a tagalong. Except for her short
stint at caring for Patrick's babe Dana had done little she could
be proud of since leaving home. She missed Thistlemoor and the
people that populated the surrounding countryside. She missed
running wild through the tall sunset landscape while Melissa chased
her, giggling and happy. Mostly she missed the opportunity to
just relax and be herself, careless of who might be watching.
Gabrielle thrashed against the comfort a moment then, with a whimper,
snuggled around the other woman's body. "Oh Xena. Don't leave
me again." Her face crushed enthusiastically into the heat
of Dana's breasts, nuzzling.
A sad, understanding look settled onto Dana's face. She petted
the tousled gold hair, a steady, rhythmic stroke. "Hush-a-bye.
It's going to be all right." A kiss pressed down. "I've
got you."
No one was having a comfortable night it seemed. The floorboards
in the hallway creaked with the tread of some other restless guest.
Through the wall, Dana could hear William tossing in the hold
of his own dreams. His mumbles were muffled by the obstructions
between them so she couldn't hear him clearly, however a distressed
cry of "Alex, how could you?" cut through the plaster.
Another set of feet padded down the hallway outside their door.
Dana rocked in place as Gabrielle's restrained sobs came to an
end with yet another whisper of 'Xena'. William shouted out something
about being sorry and a faint squeak of a door and stealthy tread
was almost, but not quite, overpowered. Why was there movement
in William's room if he was in bed having a nightmare? "Gabrielle..."
Dana's comforting rock switched to a shake. She squirmed, reluctantly
attempting to lift the other woman's face out of her cleavage.
"Gabrielle wake up." Damn it. That was definitely the
sound of William's pack being dragged across the floor. Finally
the storyteller's confused green eyes opened. Just as a plea of
"Skinner! Help me!" erupted from next door. "Something's
wrong with William." Dana untangled herself from Gabrielle's
embrace.
The bard rubbed the sleep from her eyes. "By the Gods!"
Her face burned red with embarrassment at waking to find herself
wrapped around her new friend with her head resting between two
very soft breasts.
Some dull thumping and Spanish curses cut off anything that Gabrielle
was about to say. The blonde came immediately alert, jumping off
the bed and scooping up her staff as she lunged for the door to
their room.
Dana hesitated a breath, mildly concerned over her half-dressed
state, while Gabrielle exited the room. The fact that someone
was obviously fighting in the next room decided her. Dana might
not be up to William and Gabrielle's skill level but her aid might
be needed. The Irish woman climbed off the bed and scanned the
room for something she could use as a weapon. The pistol and rifle
were both in her fiancee's room. A rather heavy, empty water jug
seemed the best bet. She picked up the ceramic container and padded
over to peek out the open doorway. The ruckus was coming from
inside William's room, but one figure was in the hall creeping
up to the portal. Luckily his back was towards Dana. Hoisting
the jug high above her head the small woman tiptoed up. He was
lifting a pistol, aiming into the noisy bedroom just as Dana brought
the water jug crashing down over his head. He collapsed under
the blow. She winced at the ache the action had caused in her
arms and stepped over the prone form to peek into the room.
One bandit lay bonelessly over Mulder's struggling form. A pool
of scarlet was forming in the man's greasy hair.
Gabrielle's staff whistled through the air smashing the rickety
chair that another Spaniard was defending himself with. His expression
was dire. With a roar the man charged at the tiny woman who had
so effortlessly taken out his partner as he was strangling their
original target. His large hands extended to grab her.
Gabrielle side-stepped the wild attack and turned in a complete
circle to gain the momentum that she needed to land a truly painful
strike across the man's shoulder-blades, flattening him. Unfortunately
he crashed into Fox's pack and weapons, which he promptly grabbed
after.
Dana let out a little yelp of distress and scrambled after the
gun the bandit in the hallway had been holding. Her worry was
misplaced. Gabrielle landed a sharp rap across the man's fingers
then thumped him hard on the forehead with the butt of her staff.
He slumped flat to the floor without another sound.
"Dana!" Gabrielle noticed the redhead crouching in the
doorway. The handle of a shattered water pitcher rolled away at
the startled response the Irish woman's name produced. Dana's
shaking hands were wrapped around a pistol. Seeing the fright
in the other's eyes, the bard kept her voice steady and calm.
"Dana pull the sheets off the bed. We need to tie these two...three."
She amended, noticing the man sprawled just behind her friend.
The bard turned to look over William's state. Gabrielle shoved
the body draped over Fox onto the floor with both hands, freeing
her friend. Mulder was gasping and only half-aware. Gabrielle
helped him to sit up. "Can you breathe, Fox?"
He nodded, staring about at the hapless robbers.
Dana attempted to gather up the pile of fabric bunched up at the
foot of William's bed. "If we cut this into strips it'll
go further but it's kind of thin."
"It'll do until we can wake the innkeeper and get something
stronger." Gabrielle allowed, standing up.
"Christ..." Mulder swung his legs off the bed, clearing
the way for his fiancee to tug the sheet loose but didn't rise.
His head still spun and his throat burned. "They...I was
asleep..." He croaked. How could he have not realised the
attack was coming? They must have made noise breaking into his
room. He should have awoken. This never would have happened back
in Canada. Where the hell had his sense of self-preservation gone?
If his companions hadn't come to his rescue he'd be dead by now.
Fox looked up. On top of everything else he suddenly realised
that the two women in his room were half-nude and his only reaction
was embarrassment...total shame that his carelessness had required
that they were the ones to save HIM from robbery and death. "Thank
you Gabrielle." The words of gratitude hurt for several reasons,
the least of which was his damaged windpipe.
"Don't thank me." The Amazon set to slicing strips out
of the thin sheet with a knife she had fished out of his pack.
"I was passed out cold. We shouldn't have pushed ourselves
so hard today, Fox. It dulled us. If Dana hadn't heard and woke
me up... You should thank her."
Fox shifted a blasted expression on his fiancee. "Dana?"
The Irish woman kept her hopeful expression as tightly under control
as possible. "I heard footsteps, then some trouble in here."
"She also took out this one." Gabrielle started with
the limp man in the hallway. She dragged him into the room, flopped
him over and efficiently bound his wrists together. "He was
behind me, wasn't he, Dana?"
"Yeah. He had a gun. I guess he figured silence wasn't required
any longer."
"Gods." Gabrielle added just the hint of unnecessary
harshness to the knot she was tying. "Thank you, Dana. You
saved both our lives tonight."
Fox rose shakily to his feet. His gaze ran over the three men
then ended up once more on the woman that he was supposed to marry.
Lord but she had gorgeous legs, not as perfectly formed as Gabrielle's
but, still impressive. Mulder bit the inside of his mouth, demanding
focus from himself. He swallowed painfully. "Thank you, Dana."
His voice was low and husky.
"You're welcome, William." She whispered back.
Not that wretched name again, but then, he hadn't offered up any
alternative had he? "Sam calls me Wils, when Father isn't
proof-reading her letters. My friends call me Fox." He gave
her the choice. Shame flickered in eyes more grey than blue right
now.
"I'd like to call you Fox." Dana admitted quietly.
"Yeah, well..." Fox pushed away from the bed on less
than steady legs. "I'll go tell the owner of this place that
it's infested. Excuse me." He edged past Dana, his eyes on
the floor, and headed for the stairs.
Dana stared after him, leaning back against the wall in reaction.
"By the hollow hills..."
"And then some." Gabrielle seconded the pleased emotion
behind the phrase she didn't quite understand.
Much to Mulder's disappointment the women had withdrawn back to
their own room as soon as Fox brought the innkeeper up. He could
have used a few minutes in their company to help centre himself.
Between the rude awakening, the dull pain in his throat, and the
flurry of activity Mulder wasn't ready to settle down onto his
newly made bed and sleep.
One of the owner's daughters had replaced his torn sheets while
Fox and the innkeeper dragged the thieves down to the stable.
Maybe it would be best to clean up a little and get out of the
top layer of gear he wore. With the edge taken off his exhaustion
his body was going to be more particular about it's comfort. Sleeping
in his boots and ammo belt wasn't the most restful sensation.
Through the wall he could just make out the murmur of his companions.
Perhaps it was all for the best that they withdrew promptly. Something
that sounded suspiciously like crying had come through a bit earlier.
His own emotional state was precarious enough. Handling an upset
woman was completely beyond his capabilities right now.
After sliding the washstand in front of the door Fox divested
himself of his boots, belt and vest. He moved his weapons to within
reach of the bed then flopped down on the creaking mattress, lacking
the physical energy to bother washing up after all. His wrists
dangled off either side of the bed frame and he stared at the
ceiling.
Faint images from his interrupted dream came back to tease at
the edges of his mind. Parts of the jumbled enactment made perfect
sense. Father, Sam and Skinner were regular performers in his
nightmares. It was strange however that Gabrielle and Alex seemed
to have usurped Eyota and Jan's usual places. Fox hadn't realised
how strong an impression the blonde was making in his brain.
Fox turned his face into the fresh scent of the sheets. The main
message behind the nightmare was painfully obvious. It wasn't
the first time his sleeping mind had slammed him about his violent
temper but it was one of the clearest representations. That clarity
was likely a result of fatigue combined with his despicable behaviour
towards his fiancee. He hadn't intended to have this kind of extended
contact with the girl. There was supposed to be a brief ceremony
as soon as he arrived, a quick consummation, then Fox had intended
to promptly ship his new wife back to Ireland. His actions towards
her were disgraceful, Mulder realised that. Hell, he was aware
of his boorish behaviour as it occurred. Even as he caved to pressure
and did as Father demanded, part of him was attempting to chase
her off. Unfortunately, the girl refused to co-operate. So either
she was more desperate for the union than expected or, wonder
of wonders, she actually liked him.
"It has to be the first." Fox told himself. "There was
no way the latter could apply." The girl... the young woman,
he corrected himself, was past the age that most noblewomen should
be safely married. Fox had overheard Father and one of his compatriots
speculating on why the Earl of Thistlemoor was willing to promise
his daughter to such a distant, unknown suitor. A dubious reputation
or a homely face had been their chief conjectures. Still, actions
held greater weight with Fox than his Father's malicious theories.
Yes, Dana had slowed them down, but she also tried valiantly.
The fact was he should have admitted his own exhaustion sooner
and rested. If he had then events would have occurred differently.
This entire misadventure with the thieves was his fault. He hadn't
been up to the challenge. His fiancée had been the one
to notice the trouble and raise the alarm. She had flattened one
of the thieves too. Admittedly, her weapon was a crude choice,
not like Gabrielle's impressive staffwork, but it had gotten the
job done. She hadn't just stood back and screamed like some girls
might.
Fox closed his eyes. His forehead creased. "Okay, she's pretty
too. " Not the type he was accustomed to, a wholesome, sweet-faced
girl and so petite. "No shorter than Gabrielle." It was
unfair to compare the two women, like apples and peaches... and
just forget putting Eyota in the same basket. Dana was beautiful,
but in her own unique way. "When did pretty become beautiful,
Fox?" He asked himself.
His temples throbbed with every beat of his heart, a situation
he was all too familiar with. There was no way he was going to
get any sleep until he worked this through.
"What's the problem, Fox?" His own mind demanded. "That's
the woman you promised to marry. If you don't want to end up living
some kind of twisted façade like Father and Mother... you
had better open yourself up to the possibilities Dana presents
instead of wishing after things you can't get a grip on." He
thumped his head back on the mattress. "Like Gabrielle."
Came the thought. "I might still have a chance with Gabrielle... yeah,
right. Even in my dreams she likes Dana better than me."
A vision came of himself sitting in the dark alone wreathed in
smoke... with a mostly empty bottle of whiskey, while his wife
was upstairs dealing with a crying child. Fox shivered. It was
too clear, too close. "What did father think of to put him
in the mood to lash out at his own flesh and blood? How near are
Father's regrets to my own?"
A slightly hysterical chuckle escaped. Somehow Fox didn't think
anything like Alex's wicked green eyes and seductive wiles preyed
on Father's mind. Still... old loves, unfulfilled wishes, and
the sensation of being trapped weren't likely to be unique thoughts.
So there it was. Maybe tomorrow, instead of sulking off alone,
it was time to talk to the woman he was supposed to spend the
rest of his life with. There was a spark of something there, something
that could stand investigating. It was either going to work between
him and Dana... or he'd best bail out now before the water got
any deeper.
XENA (about Gabrielle): "She believes that everyone has
a soul mate on earth made just for them."
"Should we try to block the door?" Dana asked, sitting
down on the edge of the bed. The simple hook lock no longer instilled
her with much confidence.
Gabrielle shook her head. "Two attacks in one night is fairly
unlikely... and it would slow us down if Fox needed us again."
She reasoned. "The thieves most likely thought he had all
the money and valuables... being the man. Once they took him
out they would have come in here next."
Dana stared, wide-eyed, at the door. "They were going to
kill him." The statement came out in a shocked whisper. "He
almost died tonight." She processed, her head slowly shook
back and forth.
"But they didn't." Gabrielle reminded the other. "You
saw to that. You heard them before it could go that far."
The bard steered the topic carefully, slightly embarrassed by
what she needed to discuss. "I suppose I woke you."
She leaned her staff against the wall. "I should explain
a few things. I didn't mean to disturb you."
"Don't let it bother you." Dana cut the beginning of
the explanation off with a frown, her ginger brows coming together.
"No, really... I was way out of line." Gabrielle persisted.
"I'm sorry."
"You were having a nightmare... then... " The other
woman dismissed the incident, her own guilt at enjoying the contact
clawed at her conscience. "Any of us could die before we
get back to camp." Her mind stubbornly examined the concept
of losing her fiancee. "Oh my God." Blue eyes turned
on her companion. "My family is depending on my marriage
to William. All the bank drafts are waiting in London... waiting
on me producing a marriage certificate. Father can't hold the
land much longer without Mr Mulder's money." Her pleasant
Irish accent didn't help to ease the flatness of her tone. "But
it's more than that."
Gabrielle settled down on the bed beside the other woman. Her
preliminary hesitation at initiating physical contact was overcome
by the look of misery on Dana's face. A lean arm lifted to wrap
around Dana's narrow shoulders. Shivers were just beginning to
wrack the other woman's frame.
"When Da first talked to me about marrying William... Fox... "
She spoke in a bare murmur. "I was absolutely furious with
him because his carelessness was the cause of things getting so
bad. Da was almost in tears at having to use me as a bartering
piece, but there was no other way left. Thistlemoor has been in
our family for longer than we have records. Both my brothers and
all my ancestors are buried there." She winced. "It's
more than the place we live. It's our life's blood. Still, Da
left the final decision up to me. I'm the one that told him to
accept Mr Mulder's offer all the time swearing that the devil
himself must have crossed the ocean and whispered our troubles
into that man's ear. It's eerie how he knew just what to offer
and exactly what we were willing to concede." Dana's eyes
shut tight. "Then I got the first letter from Samantha."
When the silence threatened to stretch too long Gabrielle prompted
gently. "Fox's little sister."
It was enough to restart the sombre monologue. "She seems
like such a sweet kid, a strange combination of innocence and
tomboy carelessness." Dana found it hard to pin down Samantha's
character. Maybe what Fox had said about Mr Mulder proof-reading
the missives was a factor. "But, Holy mother, does she adore
her brother. I suspect she thinks he hung the moon and stars in
the night sky. Maybe that's because of their age difference or
maybe most sisters feel that way. I don't know." Her breath
caught. "My brothers... Charlie was just a kid when he
died and Wally wasn't much older when the fever took him. Do you
have any brothers, Gabrielle?" The question was almost an
afterthought.
"I had a sister." The blonde admitted. "There was
her husband, but I don't think that's anywhere near the same."
This wasn't where the conversation needed to go. "How many
letters did it take before you... " Gabrielle steered,
letting the sentence hang unfinished on purpose.
"Before I fell in love with him?" The back of one hand
wiped at a damp trail on Dana's cheek. "Only two. I suppose
I'm easy... and she was ever so enthusiastic. Well, maybe three,
if you count his. It was the one that sprang the trap shut."
She corrected. "I got this note from him with her second
mailing. I can't help but wonder now if he even wrote it himself."
A sniffle slipped out. "It's folded up in my diary. I hope
that horrid spy hasn't lost it."
Yes, that was a tear glinting on one freckled cheekbone.
"In the note he told me some story he said he found in a
dusty, old book of Greek mythology. It started 'Tis said, that
in the dawn of the world mankind wore different bodies. Each figure
had two heads, four arms and four legs.' I grinned the first time
I read that line."
Gabrielle recognised it immediately. That one of her favourite
tales from her own time would survive this far into the future
caused a jolt of pleasure to rattle her.
"I wish I could show it to you. It was so elegantly written."
Dana's laugh was shaky. "It went on to tell how the gods
in some fit of anger hurled thunderbolts down at the world ripping
every one of the people below in half and scattered the pairs."
She paraphrased. "Ever since that time men and women have
felt the need to spend their lives searching for the other half
of their souls... trying to become whole again." A flutter
of intense emotion shivered through Dana's body.
"That's... " "What exactly do I say?" "That's
a beautiful story." Gabrielle couldn't help but recall the
time she had told that very tale to Iolaus as he lay wounded in
her arms while darkness threatened to swallow the world.
Dana nodded. "That's what I thought when I read it. I know
it's just a fairy tale, but do you believe it, Gabrielle, that
somewhere everyone has an absolutely perfect mate?"
"Gods!" Her blonde head rested carefully against the
red. "I think perhaps that there are a multitude of people
we meet over the course of time that we could happily spend our
lives with... if circumstances happen to fall the right way."
She considered. "And most folk will find one of those types
of relationships eventually." Many years of observation contributed
to her theory. "But some of us, if we're very lucky or we
spend long enough looking... Yes, I think there is one perfect
lovematch for us all. There's one person with whom you become
so perfectly complete that it's like finding the other half of
your soul." Her voice was husky with emotion. "And if
you're fortunate enough to chance across that person it changes
you forever after."
"I've never considered myself a romantic, Gabrielle."
Dana whispered. "Everyone back home says I've a fine, sensible
head on my shoulders." Her amusement was strained. "At
least my family and friends would all take that argument. I've
been treated accordingly ever since I was old enough to speak
my mind. Melissa is the dreamer in the family." Just a hint
of jealousy crept into her tone. "Of course, Samantha and
her family... being on the far side of the ocean and never having
met me... how were they to know my temperament? So William... Fox
writes me this child's tale, and normally I would smile then toss
it aside but... something about it. It preyed on my mind over
days... that he would share that story with me... " She
sighed. "I don't know what he was thinking, telling it to
me. Maybe he didn't mean it the way I took it but... the mood
of it seized my heart." Her face turned into Gabrielle's
shoulder. "I honestly want to make this work. I want to... but
those villains almost ended it before we've even had a chance."
"Almost." The other reminded. "But they didn't
succeed."
"What about tomorrow? What about every day after that? We're
in the middle of a war." Dana's voice broke. "I don't
want to loose him before I've even had him... and I don't know
how... " She lost coherency as the sobs shook her. "I
want to go home. I want to lock him in chains and put him somewhere
safe... make him listen to me. I want to go in there, climb
into his bed, and hold him so tight that the scent of his body
gets permanently burned into my brain."
That sentiment caught Gabrielle off guard but she didn't comment.
"I don't want to play this game anymore."
The breakdown wasn't completely unexpected. The bard realised
that Dana had been running on adrenaline and emotions just like
Fox. The nap that the Irish woman had taken on the table downstairs
hadn't been nearly long enough to mend the damage. Then there
was Gabrielle's behaviour earlier. No doubt the situation had
thrown Dana further off balance. How could she have imposed herself
on her friend like that? Gabrielle had gone two thousand years
with no more contact than the constant rumble of Xena's thoughts
inside her mind. Gods, but she missed that mental connection every
day since rejoining the living. Perhaps it was that aching emptiness
that pushed her into Dana's arms.
Now here they were again, only this time it was Gabrielle offering
up the comfort of whispered assurances and a sheltering embrace.
"What should I do?" The redhead gasped out between desperate
swallows of air. "What should I do?"
The older girl eased them sideways and down until she could stretch
out on the bed. Her right hand petted Dana's upper back while
the left held her close. "You're still tired. I know it all
seems overwhelming right now but there's no need to panic. Come
the morning everything will make more sense."
A palm scrubbed at Dana's eyes. "I'm sorry. I don't know
what's wrong with me tonight." She apologised weakly.
"You're far from home in an unfamiliar situation, over which
you have little control. You're worn down. You just thwarted a
murder... stepped into danger and used force on a stranger."
The Amazon listed. "Your entire support system is missing...
your family and friends, so you're feeling vulnerable. I think
you're holding up rather well, all things considered. Don't you?"
A weak giggle interrupted Dana's sniffles. "If my sister
could see me now she would screech in shock. Melissa says I'm
the steadiest person she knows... and I feel like a shipwreck."
Gabrielle eased off on the strength of her embrace only to have
Dana fiercely wrap her arms about the blonde's narrow waist and
hold on tight.
"I'm sorry." The Irish woman whispered. "But I
need someone to keep me grounded. Please. I know I've been a burden."
A nod rubbed Gabrielle's cheek against sweat curled red hair.
The physical contact was gratifying on several levels. "I
understand." So this was what it was like... being the
stronger, more experienced member of a team. Xena had done this
same duty for her back in the beginning, but of course, Gabrielle
realised that she was a different person than her lover. She didn't
know if she was up to this. Xena wouldn't have allowed the attack
on Fox to go as far as it did. She would have stopped them all
from overextending themselves on the road by the force of her
will. Xena wouldn't have groped Dana and cried in her sleep. The
blonde knew the sense of guilt she was feeling was unreasonable,
but that didn't stop the emotion from nipping at her. The bard
hooked the blanket with one foot and pulled it high enough to
grip. "Actually, it's almost frightening how well I understand.
When I first began travelling... " The words almost slipped
out unconsciously. "I thought I was simply a useless tag-along... but
everyone contributes in their own way."
"How long have you been apart from Xena?" Dana asked
gently.
"Too long. It feels like forever." Gabrielle wasn't
surprised at the other's knowledge. Her immortal beloved had told
her once, so very long ago, that she talked in her sleep. Dana
must have heard enough to put the pieces together. " I was
dreaming of her. I'm sorry about earlier, how I must have been
acting... the way I grabbed at you. I never meant to make you
uncomfortable about sharing a room with me."
"Nay, my friend. Think nothing of it." Dana objected.
"I'm no convent born nun, to be disturbed by honest, human
emotions." She considered, then discarded the idea of telling
Gabrielle how much she had actually enjoyed the view. "The
dream, it turned bad near the end."
Gabrielle pursed her lips. "I dreamt she was leaving me."
"Is that what happened? Did Xena leave you?"
Gabrielle exhaled her faint amusement against the Irish woman's
forehead. "No. I can't see that ever happening. Neither of
us LEFT. We were rather forcibly separated." She clouded
the truth. "It's just taken a while for me to figure out
how to get back to where I need to be." Now wasn't the time
to try and explain exactly what the real situation was. Perhaps,
if Dana worked out to be the kind of friend Gabrielle suspected,
maybe later the story could come out in full.
"Is Xena where you need to be."
"There is no other place. She is the other half of my soul."
"No wonder you believed the story, you have experienced finding
your soulmate."
Several minutes of quiet comfort passed before Gabrielle realised
that the other had fallen asleep. She smiled. After spending so
long without actually feeling the needs of a living, breathing
body she had to admit to a certain amount of enjoyment at the
renewed hungers a physical form entailed. Her unconscious groping
of Dana earlier was partial proof of that. Even now, concentrating
on the sensation of the pretty redhead in her arms was provoking
potent twinges of desire. Fox was a damned lucky man.
It's not like Xena had been celibate all these years, so the Bard
had enjoyed her share of second hand encounters. There were also
a few dreams that seemed real enough to leave her fingers burning.
Still, all of those mental trysts were nothing compared to the
pangs of sensation she was currently dealing with.
Gabrielle's eagerness to find her lover was ascending to yet another
level of need. With a wistful sigh, she snuggled herself into
a comfortable position and followed Dana into the comfort of sleep... certain
that the dreams that awaited her were bound to be of the sensuous
variety.
KRYCEK: "I don't appreciate being ditched like somebody's
bad date."
Richard held his jacket closed against the moisture in the air.
False dawn was only just surrendering to the sunrise. "This
is the kind of shite that only happens to us." Sharpe complained.
Losing a Lieutenant Colonel with absolutely no clue as to what
happened was not something he wanted to explain to Wellington.
The whole thing was a lesson in being careful of what you wished
for. They'd gotten careless last night, not setting up a watch
right off and letting the son of a bitch leave the camp alone.
Now they were paying the price. Richard stood at the spot where
Mulder had reached the creek last night. A muddy footprint and
some disturbed rocks marked the position clearly enough. Harper
and Hagman were circling around, examining the surrounding area
for clues.
"He had to have gone by water, Sir." Dan Hagman looked
up from where he was crouching on the far side of the small waterway,
his hand absently touching the pebbled bank. "There's no
sign of a trail hereabouts."
"Bloody hell." Sharpe glared at the uninformative ground.
"He either didn't put up any kind of a fight... "
"... or he left by choice." Patrick finished the sentence,
earning himself an annoyed glower from the Major.
All around the clearing the chosen men looked away to avoid meeting
the sweep of their commander's fierce glare. His foul mood was
apparent in every muscle of his body.
"Standing about isn't going to get us any answers. Harper,
you take Perkins and Cooper upstream... we'll go down."
Any stray evidence would have washed that way. Richard needed
Hagman's sharp eyes with him.
"Aye Sir." Patrick acknowledged the order and it's irate
tone. "And how far would you have us go, Major Sir?"
The big man knew his friend's temper was up this morning. Sharpe
was going to blow off at someone before the day was done.
"About two miles or so should do it." Richard decided.
"Send Perkins after us if you find anything." Rifles
firing would draw the wrong sort of attention, considering the
area was in dispute. "If you don't find any traces turn around
and come downstream after us." Sharpe stalked over and caught
the reins of Mulder's mount. All the Colonel's gear and their
extra supplies from yesterday's stop were packed on it's back.
"And if there's no trail either way?" Harper prompted
carefully.
"I'll worry about that when I have to." Came the snappish
reply.
The Sergeant nodded then withdrew, crooking his finger to bring
his assigned companions along. It wasn't until they were out of
earshot that the silence was broken.
"Do you really think the Colonel left on purpose?" Perkins
tossed a nervous glance back over his shoulder as if the Major
might descend on him for voicing the query.
"It would explain the lack of a trail." Patrick shrugged,
watching the ground.
"But it don't make much sense." The youngest of them
complained.
"And since when have you expected sense from an officer?"
Cooper, on the other bank, countered. "Especially seeing
as he's not even a proper born Englishman. Who knows what they
teach 'em over in the colonies? He don't even speak the King's
own English proper." Cooper grumped. "He talks even
worse than you, Patrick." Came the taunt.
"I heard they live in big forts and wear naught but furs
over there." The teenager's voice was touched with amazement.
"That it's cold and it snows all year."
Patrick snorted. "You'd have to ask Harris." The red-haired
rifleman knew more about that sort of thing than Harper. If it
wasn't for the army it was unlikely that the Irishman would ever
have set foot outside his own country. He stopped to look closer
at some scuffs in the muddy ground but decided an animal was more
likely responsible than their wayward Colonel was.
"If the Frogs got him they'd head north." Cooper observed
out loud. "But if he just took off... do you think he'd
head back to the base, Harper?"
Patrick shook his head. "There's something not quite right
about that bugger, but damned if I can put my finger on what exactly
he's up to." Not to mention his annoying habit of flirting
with Major Sharpe. However, Patrick wasn't about to be the one
to let the men in on that twist in the officer's behaviour. Then
there was Miss Dana, the poor girl. Being one of the common born
wasn't the most comfortable way to grow up but he wouldn't wish
Miss Dana's place on any female relation he had. Bless the sweet
girl's heart for trying to make the best of it but the short of
things was that her Pa had sold her off like a prize mare. Patrick
suspected he'd never have the means to shower his Ramona with
fancy dresses and jewellery but the woman knew he loved her. They'd
made a fine baby boy between them and he had every intention of
getting a few more wee ones on her when the time was right. Pat
suspected that if Miss Dana wanted a baby she was going to have
to look to someone besides her husband... and adultery was dangerous
business when big estates and titles were involved.
"How 'bout this, Sergeant Harper?" Perkins indicated
a broken branch not too far ahead.
"Nay." Patrick peered closely. "It's an old break."
A look about the area showed no other indicators of recent passage.
"They said he's a crack woodsman." The big man rumbled
absently. "Though I've seen no sign of it. If he actually
is... we're not like to find his trail."
"THEY said a lot of things, Harper." Cooper grinned.
"And I'm sure we would have been told more if any of us had
been in camp longer."
Patrick shot a questioning look over at the other man. Most of
his information had come from Miss Dana. Camp scuttlebutt was
another thing entirely. "What did ya hear, Cooper?"
"The lads he was drilling... " The sly looking rifleman
began. "... they said he handled their muskets like a raw
recruit. One of them thought he was goin' to get chewed out over
his bayonet, which he's been trying to replace, but the Colonel
didn't even notice the end were broke off it. You got to admit
that's an odd sort of slip-up."
"He's an odd sort of man." Patrick confirmed.
"The thing is, maybe we shouldn't be looking so hard to find
the silly bloke. If all of us stick to the same story we could
convince the mucky-mucks that run things it were a unfortunate
incident." Cooper schemed. "The Colonel, he charged
straight at a patrol without waiting for us and got himself shot."
Came the mock innocent report. "His body caught in the tack
and the Frogs hauled him away with the horse." A grin lit
up Cooper's face. "Whatcha think Harper?"
"They might swallow it." Patrick allowed. "But
do you fancy dangling at the end of a rope if the bastard turns
up later with another story entirely?" The Sergeant qualified.
"Best we find out what happened. We at least need a body
to keep the Major on the safe side of a court martial."
Cooper grumbled to himself as he resumed searching the shore.
MULDER: "You're full of crap, Krycek. You're an invertebrate
scum-sucker whose moral dipstick is about two drops short of bone
dry."
Aleksandr crouched down in the underbrush considering his next
step carefully. Not too far ahead a French soldier was fidgeting
away his turn on watch. The young soldier shifted often, swinging
the barrel of his musket at any stray sound. Alek couldn't blame
the kid for being edgy considering the dangers in the vicinity
but it would make initiating contact a bit more difficult. The
spy pondered creeping about in search of another, more stable
member of the patrol but movement, especially the stealthy manoeuvres
that plan of action would require, was another danger entirely.
"Uniform off... or on?" Aleksandr frowned. "Definitely
on." The protection of his stolen rank wasn't something to
be tossed aside. In fact, he counted on it. As a high-ranking
British officer he would automatically be sent to Ducos for questioning.
"French or English?" He assessed his mark confidently. "French."
He couldn't take the chance of the kid misunderstanding his attempt
to surrender. "Unarmed? Not in this lifetime." Alek had
reached the point in his development that being without a knife
near at hand gave him the shivers.
Maybe his best bet was simply to wait quietly for the changing
of the guard. Approaching when two men were briefly at the post
would give the soldiers a feeling of security. His legs had already
gone past the stage of cramping and the position he had squirmed
into wasn't completely uncomfortable. In fact the stillness that
Aleksandr had fallen into was as close to resting as possible
without actually falling asleep.
"The longer you stall, the better the chances are that Sharpe's
crew will pick up your trail." Alek warned himself. That thought
almost pricked him into action when he noticed another Frenchman
join the first, a Sergeant. "Mama's angel has earned more than
a few lit candles lately, Sacha. It's been your lucky month so
far." Alek pushed cautiously upright, lifting his hands away
from his body and upward. "Messieurs." He moved cautiously
forward enough to give the startled soldiers a chance to aim their
weapons on him. {I wish to surrender.} His French was carefully
pronounced. "Je me rends." He repeated even louder when
they did nothing but stare at him in shock.
Finally, one of them... the relief-man, shouted over his shoulder
for help. Their eyes scanned the surrounding area, looking for
a British trap.
{I'm alone.} Aleksandr assured them.
"Il est un officier." The elder soldier explained to
the younger. {Where's your rifle, Colonel?} He demanded.
"This one knows the enemy." Alek thought with a certain
amount of relief. He had recognised the subtle marks of rank and
the fact that Aleksandr was wearing the green of a rifle company.
{I left it behind.} The Russian explained. {I've nothing more
than blades on me. I swear.} It was a lie. He had a garrotting
cord threaded into his shirt collar, but they weren't going to
notice that. Nor were they likely to expect the sheer number of
knives he wore either.
Two more men arrived from the camp.
{Stay here, Simard.} The Sergeant ordered. {You two... look
around. There's English about.} A considering frown was turned
towards the surrendering officer. {Come this way, Sir.} The musket
barrel indicated the direction. {Keep your hands were I can see
them.}
Alek inclined his head and after making his way to where the suspicious
soldier stood, he walked in ahead. Much to the spy's pleasure
the patrol seemed to be larger than Aleksandr had first suspected.
From the looks of things about the camp there were almost twenty
men about. Sharpe's lot weren't likely to take on this bunch,
even if they caught up to him.
All about the French soldiers were beginning their day. Tea was
being steeped and bedrolls were being shaken out. Aleksandr was
taken into the centre of the erupting activity. The Major in charge
was just sliding into his blue jacket, brushing it and himself
off as he did. Grass was shaken out of white-blonde hair.
Major Etienne Navarre frowned as his eyes lifted to the approaching
men. There had been no musket fire to indicate a skirmish, yet
here was Sergeant Moncrieff with an English officer in custody.
Etienne suspected that the interruption, coming as it did... before
he'd even had time to completely wake up, boded for a busy day.
{Where's the trouble, Moncrieff?}
{No trouble, Sir.} The soldier stopped his captive well back from
his commander. The stranger hadn't been searched yet. {This one... }
His weapon gestured. {Came up on Simard just as we were changing
the watch, Major. He claims he wants to surrender.} The soldier
explained. {I set two of the men to combing the area for more
English.}
Navarre's pale brows knit together. His voice raised to a level
that rattled through the entire camp. {Double the pickets! Next
shift to the perimeter. NOW!} Stormy grey eyes swung back to the
newcomer. {Has he been disarmed?} The lack of a pistol or rifle
didn't mean the stranger was safe.
"Commandant." Alek wanted to prevent a through search
of his body. {I request parole. I surrendered.} He reminded the
man.
{Who are you and what are your intentions?} Came the demand.
The Russian considered before responding. {I am Lieutenant Colonel
Victor Alexander.} He supplied an alias that Ducos would recognise
if the name were mentioned. "Je souhaite demander le parole."
He repeated the petition yet again.
Navarre studied the young man standing in front of him. {Granted.}
He finally decided. If fate wanted to drop an English Colonel
in Etienne's lap he had to accept the bonus, although one part
of his mind was furiously considering the possible reasons behind
the appearance. British officers, especially Colonels, shouldn't
be wandering about in disputed territory alone and without reason.
Not prepared to squander any source of possible answers, Navarre
looked about for Ducos' agent. {Where's Sergeant Malais?} He questioned
Moncrieff. Maybe the brute knew something useful about covert
activity hereabouts.
Aleksandr rocked back on his heels, wrapping his arms around his
chest. His body visibly collapsed in on itself and he had to bite
back a squeak of surprise. Luckily, the soldiers didn't seem to
notice Alek's distress.
{He's left Sir.} Moncrieff explained. {The Sergeant took his two... aides... and
two of our regulars, Vinay and Beaulac. They headed out to forage
as soon as it was light enough to see.} He was decidedly uncomfortable
being the one to inform his commander of the absence. Most of
the men suspected that the expedition was without the Major's
consent. Considering the way the Major's teeth were now grinding
together that was a fair bet.
{Foraging... } Navarre echoed, keeping a precarious hold on
his temper. He ought to string that hulking beast up for desertion,
and the fools that Malais had taken along as well. The French
army could do well without that sort of rabble giving proper soldiers
a bad name. If Ducos weren't involved Etienne would have flogged
Malais and his cronies into submission then sent them back to
Paris in chains by now. {Damn the man.} The Major grumbled to
himself. His gaze landed on the Brit once more. {Why are you here,
Colonel?} Etienne asked, not expecting anything terribly useful
out of the younger man.
Aleksandr allowed himself license to scrub wearily at the bridge
of his nose. {I'm tired.} If he wanted to hold onto the pretence
of his borrowed rank and nationality he didn't dare provide any
useful information to this Major. {I'm lost.} The Russian added.
The ironic truth behind those statements almost choked him.
Navarre's head tipped, studying the captive. He was surprised
at how intensely the Colonel seemed to speak those two simple
statements. {Where is your company?}
{Somewhere. Not here.} Aleksandr shrugged. {You must realise that
I can't tell you anything Major.} He stated. {I would like to
sit down. I really am exhausted.}
"Oui. Certainement." Etienne allowed. {Sergeant Moncrieff,
see the Colonel is settled over by my tent.} The unspoken command
was to stand watch over the prisoner.
Alek followed the Frenchmen. "As if I couldn't find my way
alone." It was the only tent in the entire site. He dropped
gratefully down to the damp ground. His attention drifted back
to the Major as if pulled by a magnet. Oddly enough, there was
a superficial resemblance to Major Sharpe in this French officer.
This one was a bit younger and not so roughly used but he had
the same blonde, angular attractiveness and air of integrity.
His bearing had an aristocratic manner about it. That further
distanced him from the plainspoken Englishman.
Aleksandr looked up at his guard. "Sergeant, ce qui est le
nom du commandant?"
With only the briefest of grimace of delay he supplied the information.
{That's Major Navarre, one of the finest officers in the whole
of the Emperor's army.}
Aleksandr nodded, wracking his brain for any information on that
surname. His head was stuffed with thousands of titbits and snatches
of casual conversation. {Would that be Etienne or Urbain Navarre?}
Three other possibilities were already disregarded due to the
uniform and age of the other man.
The question drew another suspicious look from Moncrieff. {Major
Etienne Navarre.} Came the reluctant response. The soldier grew
even more apprehensive as he observed the intense gaze the spy
fixed on the officer.
Aleksandr nodded to himself, watching the handsome Major issue
orders in low, urgent tones. The soldiers obeyed hurriedly, moving
immediately when Navarre's fingers gestured, stabbing the air.
The Russian's mind worked, searching out any cached memories attached
to Major Navarre. The man had been quite the war hero in Austria,
making a name for himself at Wagram among other decisive battles.
The Navarre family had money, a reasonably famous winery, and
all the right connections. His cousin, Urbain Navarre, was rumoured
to be only steps away from the General staff. So what was a rising
star like Etienne doing out in Spanish no-man's land as a mere
Major?
Aleksandr continued to study his new mark. He was aware of the
Sergeant's frown of annoyance but dismissed the disapproval as
unimportant. Finally the memory clicked into place. "Mercy
me. Oh Mama, thank you." That's where he recalled hearing about
Etienne Navarre... Alek had been eavesdropping on one of Ducos
private conferences. He committed the stunt whenever possible
during his brief stays near the spymaster. It was a dangerous
but incredibly useful exploit. Major Etienne Navarre was firmly
trapped under Ducos thumb after the spymaster had unearthed a
sexual liaison the Major had with a Sergeant Armand Renault. The
situation would absolutely desolate Navarre's parents since he
was an only child and the sole hope of providing grandchildren.
It would also outrage the Major's superiors on several levels.
A lion's share of the trouble would have come from the fact that
Renault had been a recently promoted subordinate, promoted by
Navarre of course. None of that made the Major into Ducos' creature,
not to the same level Alek was... but it was enough to keep
Navarre accepting the spymaster's unsavoury orders without balking.
Aleksandr's first reaction to the memory was to glance at Moncrieff.
The Russian was usually able to pick out men who were open to
his advances without any trouble and this Sergeant didn't strike
him that way. The Major wouldn't be so foolish as to make the
same mistake twice either.
Eventually Etienne paced his way over to where Aleksandr was seated.
{I was just about to eat. I'm sure there's enough to share. Will
you join me Colonel?}
"Oui. Merci." Alek responded wearily.
{A small portion of my unit... } Etienne considered. {... has
to be collected. I'm afraid I won't be able to allow you much
time to rest.} Navarre observed that the young Colonel looked
absolutely exhausted. Dark smudges underscored the pair of startling
green eyes that looked up at him.
{I'll take what I can get.} Alek murmured. He flexed his legs
straight, massaging them absently.
Etienne stared at his prisoner. The thought had occurred to him
that this could be Krycek, the spy that Malais was waiting on.
That would certainly explain the man's sudden appearance and the
surrender. {Where's your rifle, Colonel? Your sword? Your horse?}
{A situation that I'm not at liberty to explain forced me to part
company with all of those things.} Aleksandr hedged. {I regret
the loss of my mount the most. It's made for a hard night's travel.}
He stretched expansively once before leaning back slightly to
rest on his hands and arms. A slight head movement flopped his
untidy bangs forward. Dark jade eyes went innocently wide and
long lashes batted, very discreetly. Aleksandr smoothed his face
into youthful harmlessness and his posture loosened. {When will
we be moving out to... collect... your absent members, Major
Navarre?}
The young man had the kind of smoky warm voice that made Etienne
think of sweat-slick, tangled sheets. Distracted with that intriguing
voice and the way the Englishman had absently laid himself out
for display, the Major didn't respond promptly to the question.
It wasn't until he noticed the other's expectant expression that
Etienne finally answered. {Long enough to eat... and I'll have
Danton put some water on to heat. No offence, Colonel Alexander,
but you do look a little worse for wear.} His brow furrowed as
he continued to look at the other. {Your French is flawless.}
{Too much education and not enough woodcraft.} Alek laughed. {Pity
my tutor couldn't see into the future. Last night I would rather
have know how to navigate by starlight rather than how to read
Latin. Still, I survived and located you. This is the first step
to being returned to civilisation, is it not? Might I ask where
and to whom you intend to hand me over?}
Navarre frowned, still uncertain of his own plans. His mission
was to keep patrolling for the Warrior Princess but the British
Colonel needed to be turned over to Major Ducos. He could dispatch
Malais and his two men with the Colonel, but they were hardly
an appropriate escort for this prisoner and they had their own
orders. There was no way that Navarre was going to splinter his
own men. That would be an invitation to slaughter. The remaining
option seemed to be that Etienne and the entire column take the
Brit in before returning to the border. With luck they would come
back to find Sergeant Malais killed by their partisan target and
they could trail 'La Princesa' from the scene.
{Major Navarre?} Alek prompted.
{We will be taking you to a castle... not so far away. I'm sure
the commander there will see to ransoming you.}
One shoulder lifted negligently. {No hurry.} Aleksandr offered
up a suggestive smile. A plan was beginning to crystallise in
the back of the spy's mind. If this Major could be somehow convinced
to dispose of Malais and then Alek could slip away... The Russian
had never operated on this loose a leash before. Usually he either
had a strict timetable to adhere to or Malais was within striking
distance of himself or, more dangerously, his family. There was
an excellent chance that Aleksandr could make it to Paris and
liberate Tatyana and Dimitri before Ducos gave up on Alek and
ordered them killed. The only question remaining was where would
he take them. That was a monumental problem all it's own. A bowl
full of some kind of porridge was thrust down at Aleksandr by
a soldier, interrupting his ruminations.
{Where are you from Colonel?} Navarre accepted his own breakfast
with an absent nod of thanks.
{London.} Alek chose one of the few places in England that he
actually had a working knowledge of. {I think I have you at a
disadvantage, Major Navarre.} He turned the focus back at the
Frenchmen. {The fame of the winery that your family owns... it
precedes you... as do your exploits in Austria. At least I suspect
you are THAT Etienne Navarre.} Aleksandr decided the look of surprise
on the older man's face suited him. It took away the annoyed lines
about his mouth and eyes.
Navarre found his throat dried out. He had to clear it before
speaking. {I wasn't aware my career held any interest for the
average English officer.}
The Russian paused thoughtfully. {A man can admire the tactics
of an opponent while still holding his own opinion of the politics
of the greater conflict. You were invaluable to your side in Austria.
Your manoeuvres were so elegant... a minimal loss of life, on
both sides, for a maximum gain. You seem to understand that you
can't possess a thing if it's destroyed in the battle for ownership.
That's something too many people fail to grasp.}
Etienne felt a flush of pleasure at the compliment that the foreign
Colonel had not only noticed, but admired his choices. After constantly
being sent out into the field with only common soldiers for company
the attention of an attractive, intelligent, fellow officer cut
him right to the quick. Colonel Alexander was easy on the eyes
too, graceful and lean, with almost pretty... vaguely elfin
features. Strangely enough the fact that he was run down and grubby
about the edges only added to his charm, giving him a certain
vulnerability.
Navarre practically tossed aside the bowl he held in his hurry
to stand up. Letting his thoughts wander in that direction was
just plain dangerous. {I'll see to Danton... get him moving.}
The excuse was lame but Etienne needed distance right now. Besides
which, a part of his mind that Navarre didn't dare let loose was
wondering how far the Brit would strip down if offered the chance
to clean up. "Excusez moi."
Only the presence of Sergeant Moncrieff stopped Aleksandr from
laughing aloud. "It's my lucky month, right Mama?"
La Princesa Guerrera V
by Carla Jane and Jim
GABRIELLE: "Believe me, if I have to go the rest of my life without companionship, knowing myself won't be a problem."
SCULLY (to Mulder): "You said it yourself once. You said that a... a dream is an answer to a question we haven't learned how to ask."
