THE BETWEEN THE LINES SERIES
(or what happened between the episodes)
by Texbard
For Disclaimers, see "Looking for Trouble"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
3.3 All That We Let In
(post "The Dirty Half Dozen")
X: "I've got that answer to your question. Are you who you are, or are you who I made you?"
G: "And?"
X: "You're Gabrielle -- bard, Amazon Princess -- best friend. Nobody made you who you are -- it was already there. The question is, who would I be without you?"
- The Dirty Half Dozen
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We've been traveling for almost a week without seeing another person. It's been nice, just the two of us, playing word games and making star patterns at night before we go to sleep. It's also been a nice reprieve from one battle after the next.
I think we both needed some time to heal after this last adventure. I know I saw a part of Xena's past she didn't want me to see. Perhaps the only bad thing about our temporary solitude has been way too much time to think. It's put a little bit of distance between us, both emotionally and physically. I still love her as much as ever and I think that feeling is mutual, but right now we're both working through some things.
There are days when we walk along in comfortable silence, and most of this past week has been like that. We both know what we're thinking about, and we're able now to give each other that space, even if we're walking side by side at the time. I think I used to drive her crazy during our early days together, with all my questions. Now -- now I mostly know what kind of birds or trees or animals I’m seeing. We've already covered that ground.
And I know a lot about her past -- mostly about her family and how she grew up. With those stories, she's pretty forthcoming. Even before meeting Darnelle, Glaphyra, Agathon, and Walsim, I didn't pry too much into her warlord days for fear she'd shut me out or worse, send me home. I'm not afraid of being sent home anymore, but I know her warrior days are upsetting to her. So much of her past has come out a little at a time -- Callisto, Marcos, Helen and Troy, Ares, Caesar, Borias and Solan, the Horde, Hercules, and now these four murderers she hand-crafted. Honestly, there are parts of her past I'm not sure I want to know about. I think if she had her way, I wouldn't know about any of it, and the only reason I know about any of it is because circumstances dictated I know.
Each time some new aspect of her past is revealed, I have to mentally take a step back and reconcile it with the Xena I know now. She's changed so much. It's true she was already on the right path when I met her, but she seems to think I’m the one that kept her there. That's been weighing on me some these past few days. I know there are times when I've purposefully influenced her to take the high road, like when we worked with Senticles to free that village from oppression, without resorting to true violence, all in honor of the Solstice. But now I've been forced to look back and ponder what other times I may have influenced her -- times when I was unaware I was exerting that influence.
Even more difficult is pondering how she's influenced me.
I'll admit meeting Glaphyra, especially, rattled me. Xena seems pretty convinced that I'm innately a good person and had I met her as a warlord, I wouldn't have become a thug or a slaver or worse, a murderer. I certainly can't imagine killing anyone. Okay, maybe I can imagine it, since I wanted to kill Callisto after she murdered Perdicus. In the end, though, I couldn't do it, and ironically it was because of Xena that I couldn't. Hearing her pray for me, knowing what I meant to her even then, and her faith in my goodness -- that is what ultimately kept me from killing Callisto. So while I wanted to kill her, there is a part of me that can't imagine actually going through with it - drawing someone else's blood.
On the one hand, Xena had a very positive influence on me when it came to me not killing Callisto. On the other hand, had I not met her, I'd never have met Callisto and Perdicus would likely still be alive. Yet on the other hand -- if I had three hands -- if I hadn't met her, there's a good chance I'd be a slave or even dead by now. Her ultimate influence on me has been that I'm alive and free, and to me, that probably cancels out any negative influence she may have had. She certainly saved me from a life of misery as a Potadeian housewife, and gods, I'm in love with her. Madly in love with her. I'd never have known true love, if I hadn't met her. I'm convinced of that.
I know Xena started out good, with good intentions, and that things went badly, especially after Caesar betrayed her. And I believe that deep inside, she was always a good person who just went astray for a while. But I also know that when she was a murderer, she probably enjoyed it. She still enjoys fighting and I have seen her kill people, though most times she uses her fists or the hilt of her sword first, and resorts to killing last. Still, she fights by instinct and her instincts about people are usually dead-on. If she senses someone is going to come after her again, or come after me or someone else -- if she feels in any way that she is going to regret letting them live, she doesn't hesitate to take their life.
I don't know if I'm capable of that. Oddly, when I first met her and wanted to be just like her, I had fewer qualms about killing than I do now. I hadn't seen enough to understand how horrible it really is. But the more I've seen of the world and the damage killing has done to Xena's own soul, the more I've seen of how violence has destroyed lives and entire villages, the more I grieve over the thought of it.
I feel like a hypocrite sometimes. The world we live in is a violent one and there are evil people who would harm us. Without people like Xena, who are willing to kill to save lives, a lot of innocent people would be hurt or dead. I have needed her to protect me, sometimes by killing, yet I won't kill anyone myself. I know she wouldn't have it any other way, but still it hurts sometimes, knowing she's taken lives on my behalf.
But back to how I've changed because of her, that's more difficult. I don't want to be just like her anymore. I do want to be brave and resourceful and intelligent, but I don't want to be a warrior. Yet am I already a warrior? I fight with my staff. I could kill someone with it if I hit them just right. She told me I'm one of the best at staff she's ever gone up against, yet she taught me most of what I know about it. Before I met her, I'd never even heard of a fighting staff, nor had I even lifted a sword.
Look at me now. I'm an Amazon princess. I can hold my own in a fight. I've been in the middle of many battles and I've fought in full-scale wars. I've watched her kill and I've held people as they died. I've helped her strategize on and execute all kinds of plans, both violent and non-violent. I know how to track people and animals through the woods. I even caught a fish with my bare hands a few times. I died once. I've seen more death and violence now than the rest of the people in Potadeia all put together.
Is all of that a good thing?
Does it matter? I'm also confident and capable of taking care of myself, even in the wilderness alone, if I had to. I've learned many of her healing skills from her. I have a lifetime of stories I can tell and I'm known as a bard in some parts. I've been to the Academy in Athens and I've met Roman and Persian and Trojan soldiers. I've spoken with gods. I've met Ulysses and Pandora's grand-daughter. I've seen most of Greece and sailed to far away places. Together, we've helped a lot of people.
Could I have had all that good -- all those adventures -- without also having the bad? I don't think so. Xena is who she is. I've traveled with her for going on three years now. When I look in the mirror, that naive girl from Potadeia seems very far removed from who I am now. For good or for bad, whether she likes it or not, I am what I am today because of knowing her. I think it's been mostly for the good.
"Hey." She clasps my shoulder and brings me out of my musings. "You ready for a hot bath and a warm bed out of the wind?"
"A hot bath sounds wonderful." I look over at her and smile. "So does the warm bed. Are we near a village?"
"Yeah, just on the other side of that ridge." She nods toward a hill I can see over the treetops. "Another hour or so and we'll be there, just in time for supper."
"Maybe I can tell some stories for a few dinars." I jiggle the bag slung over my shoulder. "We're almost out."
"Good. And I can probably chop some wood or catch a stringer of fish for the innkeeper to trade for our room for tonight."
Her hand is still on my shoulder and I take it, twining our fingers and lightly swinging our arms as we continue to walk. Sure enough, after a short trek through the woods and a longer climb up the hill, we reach the summit and follow a worn, winding path down the hillside to a well-kept village in the valley below.
The people seem friendly enough and this place is somewhat out of the way. We're further north than we've been before, and even the way they're dressed is a little different - their clothing heavier. As the sun begins to settle behind the hill, I understand why. It's cold in the evenings, here in their valley, and there's a gap between hills that allows a steady north wind to blow down across the village.
"How about this time you go stable Argo while I haggle for the room and dinner?" She hands over Argo's bridle. "If we're paying for it in wood, I might as well find out how much they want me to chop."
"Works for me." I pat her on the hip. "Don't forget to ask if I can tell stories, too."
"Will do." She squeezes my arm briefly and turns toward the inn.
I take Argo and lead her around the corner to the stable out back. "Brrrrrr." We blow inside and I find an empty stall in the corner. "There you go, girl." I remove her saddle and bridle, and give her a good brushing, then locate a pitchfork and fill her trough with fresh hay. There's a tub of water next to the trough, and she seems satisfied. After giving me a nudge to the belly, she digs into the hay, snorting in pleasure.
It is growing colder, and I rub my arms. "I think I need my cloak." I dig it out of our bags and don it, then sling the bags over my shoulder and head for the inn. I can see several people heading that way, most likely for dinner. As I draw closer, I can smell a wonderful meaty-spicy scent and my stomach growls. "Mmmmm." Xena's a good hunter and we've eaten well these past few days, but we've also been in near-constant motion, walking all day long for a week, and we burn off our food as fast as we consume it. It will be nice to have a meal we didn't have to catch, clean, and cook first.
Pushing the door to the inn open, I duck inside and hang my cloak on a hook beside the door, then look around, spying Xena at a table, her nose in a mug of ale. "Hey." I slide in next to her and set our bags on the seat across the table. "Did you order me a mug, too?"
"I did." She looks up, her eyes twinkling. "It's on its way. They're making some kind of stew for dinner but it's not quite ready."
"Are you going to chop wood?"
"Tomorrow." She grins. "They said they'd trust me for it, provided you keep your end of the deal with the story-telling. I told them you would. The inn-keeper's daughter is out now, running around town telling everyone there will be entertainment tonight. They're excited, my bard. This far out of the way, I think you're going to be a rare treat for them."
"Good. Maybe I can tell some of my older, more-polished stories and not have to worry they've already heard them." A young woman delivers my ale and I accept the mug from her. "Thank you."
"Oh, no, thank you, miss." She beams at me. "I heard Gabrielle the bard was going to be here tonight. That's you, right?"
"You've heard of me?" I nearly choke on the sip of ale I've just taken, and Xena pats my back as she talks.
"Why yes. Fellow named Homer was through here last year and he accidentally left a few scrolls behind. They've been passed all over town. We've read all about you and Xena here." She bows a little. "Excuse me, but I need to get back in the kitchen and finish up the stew."
As she walks away, Xena laughs and claps me on the shoulder. "So much for your older stories."
"Yeah." I take another sip of ale. "Guess I'll just have to tell some of the stories from after I met Homer. Let's see -- there's you getting Hades his helmet back. Or you rescuing me and Joxer from Callisto. Oh, or you saving me from Cecrops' ship. Or how about the one where you -- umpphhhh." She covers my mouth and I glare at her.
"Do you have any stories that aren't about me?" She frowns and braces her boot against the table leg.
"Oh, let's see." I roll my eyes toward the ceiling and mentally run through my scrolls. "Nope. Sure don't. Guess you'll just have to suffer though hearing about yourself." I grin cheekily at her and she tries really hard to look perturbed, but the little smile tugging at her lips gives her away. She's such a fraud sometimes.
"Maybe I'll skip out and start chopping that wood tonight." She nudges me and drains her mug, smacking her lips. We both know she doesn't mean it. I know she likes hearing me tell stories, even if they are about her.
"Do that, and I might tell a few love stories while you're out." I nudge her back.
To my surprise, she leans over and tucks one hand behind my head, indulging in a rare public kiss. I draw back, blinking in surprise. "No you won't, because you'd embarrass yourself every bit as much as you'd embarrass me." She pecks my lips one more time and then nonchalantly accepts a mug from a rather frustrated servant girl, who apparently observed us.
"You got me." And she does. I can feel myself blushing, though I'm pleased she's in such a good mood. The distance, even a comfortable distance, was starting to wear on me. With that kiss, I felt much of our world righted again.
"No, you got me." She smiles and winks at me. I smile back and look up, as two large bowls of stew are delivered to our table by yet another shy servant girl. We both dig in, dipping slices of soft, freshly-baked bread into the stew and washing it all down with more of the nutty ale. It's a delicious meal, the stew full of bits of rabbit, chunks of potatoes, and lots of carrots and peas. I eagerly accept a second serving and get a knowing grin from Xena. "Hungry?" She eyes my dinner and helps herself to a spoon-full.
"You know it." I shove the bowl between us. "Share with me?"
"Sure. Thanks." We share not only our meal, but a little small talk, making idle observations about the inn and the various people also eating dinner under its low roof. Finally, I finish and stand, preparing to make my way to the front to tell my stories. "You'll do great." She gives me a subtle pat on the backside and I smile in return.
I've always liked telling stories, and this is a good night, with an eager and receptive crowd. It's always nice to not have to win them over first. After introducing myself, I proceed to tell three stories, all of them about Xena and her heroics, of course. From time to time, I look toward our corner table and catch her eye. Each time, she gives me a smile of encouragement, but most of all, I love catching her expression before our eyes meet, when she's just listening. At turns she's buried in her mug, hiding in embarrassment, but at others her face is gently glowing in memory of our shared adventures.
I like that -- having a history with someone. Lately I feel us easing out of that crazed new lover phase and into something infinitely more satisfying -- the comfort of being intimately in tune with someone on many levels, not just the physical. We enjoy being together, no matter what we're doing. If we didn't, I don't think we'd still be together after three years. She sometimes reminds me that the life we lead is uncertain. We might grow old or we might die in battle tomorrow. The one thing I've learned is to live fully in the moment, because it might be our last one.
Finally, I finish my stories and say a few polite good-nights, then make my way to her and hold out my hand. She takes it and I haul her to her feet, and lead her to our room. It's late and we agree to save the hot bath for the morning, after she's done her wood-chopping. We bathe every day no matter where we are, even if it means using streams or lakes, so it's not like we aren't relatively clean.
She closes the door and gets the fire going in the fireplace. I slip into a sleeping shirt and make my way to the window, looking out. "Xena, it's snowing."
"Really?" She joins me, wrapping her arms around me from behind and resting her chin on my head. "Sure is."
"Think we'll get snowed in?" I look up and over my shoulder at her.
"Nah. Too early in the season. I'll be surprised if it even sticks." She nuzzles my hair a little and we continue to watch the dainty flakes fall past the window.
I had some time to think, even while telling stories, and I realized something I need to share with her. "Xena, remember when you told me I am just me, not what you made me?"
"Yeah." I feel her stiffen a little against me, though she doesn't move away. "Why?"
"Tonight, telling stories about Xena the hero, I realized something. I may have changed since meeting you, but the person I was when I met you -- that Gabrielle would never have followed after a warlord. The Xena I followed after was a hero to me, from the moment I first laid eyes on you. I'm not like Glaphyra. She followed after a warlord."
"I never thought you were like Glaphyra," she comments quietly.
"I know, but my point is this. I followed a hero, not a murderer. And yes, I've changed, but is any of that change really bad? I can take care of myself now. And yes, I can fight with my staff, but I'm not a warrior, am I?"
"No." She chuckles. "I hate to break it to you, but you don't have the instincts of a warrior." Her voice grows sober. "You don't want to be a warrior, do you?"
"No." I shake my head emphatically. "Not anymore. I don't want to be you anymore, Xena. I just want to be the best me I can be. And you're helping me be that person. I'm much better with you than I ever was without you."
She grows still behind me, and I hear her swallow. After a bit, I feel her lips near my ear. "I don't know, Gabrielle. I'd like to believe that, but I just don't know."
"Believe it." I turn in her arms and place a hand against her chest. "Think about it. Even Glaphyra and Darnelle have changed for the good after meeting up with the person you are now. If two murderers can change their ways because of you, think how much more someone like me can change for the good after meeting you. You're a good person, Xena."
"Not sure I agree with your logic." She smiles sadly. "But I'm glad you feel that way. Come on." She tugs at my hand. "Bedtime for bards and warriors."
We douse a few candles and crawl under a wonderfully thick, soft quilt. I snuggle up to her and we share a few long, leisurely kisses. After a bit, I break away and search her face in the faint light from the fireplace. "You know I love you, don't you?"
"Absolutely." She kisses me one more time, then pulls me against her, holding me tightly. "Love you too, Gabrielle. Always," she whispers. I feel her lips brush across my forehead and I close my eyes. I've learned one thing from this past week -- unless we're hermits, none of us get to be who we are alone. For good or for bad, we've got little parts of everyone in our lives inside us. And there's something else I know. I love being a part of her and I love knowing she's a part of me. No matter what, I wouldn't have it any other way.
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Next in the BTL series -- "The Coming of Shadows" (post The Deliverer)
Note from the writer: I shamelessly stole the title of this story from the Indigo Girls song, All That We Let In. I'll spare you re-hashing the entire set of lyrics. They're here for anyone who is curious:
http://www.metrolyrics.com/all-that-we-let-in-lyrics-indigo-girls.html
I think a lot of that song fits X&G. The next few stories I will probably steal titles from Babylon 5 episodes. I must say, writing this story was painful, knowing what is coming in the next episode.
(or what happened between the episodes)
by Texbard
For Disclaimers, see "Looking for Trouble"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
3.3 All That We Let In
(post "The Dirty Half Dozen")
X: "I've got that answer to your question. Are you who you are, or are you who I made you?"
G: "And?"
X: "You're Gabrielle -- bard, Amazon Princess -- best friend. Nobody made you who you are -- it was already there. The question is, who would I be without you?"
- The Dirty Half Dozen
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We've been traveling for almost a week without seeing another person. It's been nice, just the two of us, playing word games and making star patterns at night before we go to sleep. It's also been a nice reprieve from one battle after the next.
I think we both needed some time to heal after this last adventure. I know I saw a part of Xena's past she didn't want me to see. Perhaps the only bad thing about our temporary solitude has been way too much time to think. It's put a little bit of distance between us, both emotionally and physically. I still love her as much as ever and I think that feeling is mutual, but right now we're both working through some things.
There are days when we walk along in comfortable silence, and most of this past week has been like that. We both know what we're thinking about, and we're able now to give each other that space, even if we're walking side by side at the time. I think I used to drive her crazy during our early days together, with all my questions. Now -- now I mostly know what kind of birds or trees or animals I’m seeing. We've already covered that ground.
And I know a lot about her past -- mostly about her family and how she grew up. With those stories, she's pretty forthcoming. Even before meeting Darnelle, Glaphyra, Agathon, and Walsim, I didn't pry too much into her warlord days for fear she'd shut me out or worse, send me home. I'm not afraid of being sent home anymore, but I know her warrior days are upsetting to her. So much of her past has come out a little at a time -- Callisto, Marcos, Helen and Troy, Ares, Caesar, Borias and Solan, the Horde, Hercules, and now these four murderers she hand-crafted. Honestly, there are parts of her past I'm not sure I want to know about. I think if she had her way, I wouldn't know about any of it, and the only reason I know about any of it is because circumstances dictated I know.
Each time some new aspect of her past is revealed, I have to mentally take a step back and reconcile it with the Xena I know now. She's changed so much. It's true she was already on the right path when I met her, but she seems to think I’m the one that kept her there. That's been weighing on me some these past few days. I know there are times when I've purposefully influenced her to take the high road, like when we worked with Senticles to free that village from oppression, without resorting to true violence, all in honor of the Solstice. But now I've been forced to look back and ponder what other times I may have influenced her -- times when I was unaware I was exerting that influence.
Even more difficult is pondering how she's influenced me.
I'll admit meeting Glaphyra, especially, rattled me. Xena seems pretty convinced that I'm innately a good person and had I met her as a warlord, I wouldn't have become a thug or a slaver or worse, a murderer. I certainly can't imagine killing anyone. Okay, maybe I can imagine it, since I wanted to kill Callisto after she murdered Perdicus. In the end, though, I couldn't do it, and ironically it was because of Xena that I couldn't. Hearing her pray for me, knowing what I meant to her even then, and her faith in my goodness -- that is what ultimately kept me from killing Callisto. So while I wanted to kill her, there is a part of me that can't imagine actually going through with it - drawing someone else's blood.
On the one hand, Xena had a very positive influence on me when it came to me not killing Callisto. On the other hand, had I not met her, I'd never have met Callisto and Perdicus would likely still be alive. Yet on the other hand -- if I had three hands -- if I hadn't met her, there's a good chance I'd be a slave or even dead by now. Her ultimate influence on me has been that I'm alive and free, and to me, that probably cancels out any negative influence she may have had. She certainly saved me from a life of misery as a Potadeian housewife, and gods, I'm in love with her. Madly in love with her. I'd never have known true love, if I hadn't met her. I'm convinced of that.
I know Xena started out good, with good intentions, and that things went badly, especially after Caesar betrayed her. And I believe that deep inside, she was always a good person who just went astray for a while. But I also know that when she was a murderer, she probably enjoyed it. She still enjoys fighting and I have seen her kill people, though most times she uses her fists or the hilt of her sword first, and resorts to killing last. Still, she fights by instinct and her instincts about people are usually dead-on. If she senses someone is going to come after her again, or come after me or someone else -- if she feels in any way that she is going to regret letting them live, she doesn't hesitate to take their life.
I don't know if I'm capable of that. Oddly, when I first met her and wanted to be just like her, I had fewer qualms about killing than I do now. I hadn't seen enough to understand how horrible it really is. But the more I've seen of the world and the damage killing has done to Xena's own soul, the more I've seen of how violence has destroyed lives and entire villages, the more I grieve over the thought of it.
I feel like a hypocrite sometimes. The world we live in is a violent one and there are evil people who would harm us. Without people like Xena, who are willing to kill to save lives, a lot of innocent people would be hurt or dead. I have needed her to protect me, sometimes by killing, yet I won't kill anyone myself. I know she wouldn't have it any other way, but still it hurts sometimes, knowing she's taken lives on my behalf.
But back to how I've changed because of her, that's more difficult. I don't want to be just like her anymore. I do want to be brave and resourceful and intelligent, but I don't want to be a warrior. Yet am I already a warrior? I fight with my staff. I could kill someone with it if I hit them just right. She told me I'm one of the best at staff she's ever gone up against, yet she taught me most of what I know about it. Before I met her, I'd never even heard of a fighting staff, nor had I even lifted a sword.
Look at me now. I'm an Amazon princess. I can hold my own in a fight. I've been in the middle of many battles and I've fought in full-scale wars. I've watched her kill and I've held people as they died. I've helped her strategize on and execute all kinds of plans, both violent and non-violent. I know how to track people and animals through the woods. I even caught a fish with my bare hands a few times. I died once. I've seen more death and violence now than the rest of the people in Potadeia all put together.
Is all of that a good thing?
Does it matter? I'm also confident and capable of taking care of myself, even in the wilderness alone, if I had to. I've learned many of her healing skills from her. I have a lifetime of stories I can tell and I'm known as a bard in some parts. I've been to the Academy in Athens and I've met Roman and Persian and Trojan soldiers. I've spoken with gods. I've met Ulysses and Pandora's grand-daughter. I've seen most of Greece and sailed to far away places. Together, we've helped a lot of people.
Could I have had all that good -- all those adventures -- without also having the bad? I don't think so. Xena is who she is. I've traveled with her for going on three years now. When I look in the mirror, that naive girl from Potadeia seems very far removed from who I am now. For good or for bad, whether she likes it or not, I am what I am today because of knowing her. I think it's been mostly for the good.
"Hey." She clasps my shoulder and brings me out of my musings. "You ready for a hot bath and a warm bed out of the wind?"
"A hot bath sounds wonderful." I look over at her and smile. "So does the warm bed. Are we near a village?"
"Yeah, just on the other side of that ridge." She nods toward a hill I can see over the treetops. "Another hour or so and we'll be there, just in time for supper."
"Maybe I can tell some stories for a few dinars." I jiggle the bag slung over my shoulder. "We're almost out."
"Good. And I can probably chop some wood or catch a stringer of fish for the innkeeper to trade for our room for tonight."
Her hand is still on my shoulder and I take it, twining our fingers and lightly swinging our arms as we continue to walk. Sure enough, after a short trek through the woods and a longer climb up the hill, we reach the summit and follow a worn, winding path down the hillside to a well-kept village in the valley below.
The people seem friendly enough and this place is somewhat out of the way. We're further north than we've been before, and even the way they're dressed is a little different - their clothing heavier. As the sun begins to settle behind the hill, I understand why. It's cold in the evenings, here in their valley, and there's a gap between hills that allows a steady north wind to blow down across the village.
"How about this time you go stable Argo while I haggle for the room and dinner?" She hands over Argo's bridle. "If we're paying for it in wood, I might as well find out how much they want me to chop."
"Works for me." I pat her on the hip. "Don't forget to ask if I can tell stories, too."
"Will do." She squeezes my arm briefly and turns toward the inn.
I take Argo and lead her around the corner to the stable out back. "Brrrrrr." We blow inside and I find an empty stall in the corner. "There you go, girl." I remove her saddle and bridle, and give her a good brushing, then locate a pitchfork and fill her trough with fresh hay. There's a tub of water next to the trough, and she seems satisfied. After giving me a nudge to the belly, she digs into the hay, snorting in pleasure.
It is growing colder, and I rub my arms. "I think I need my cloak." I dig it out of our bags and don it, then sling the bags over my shoulder and head for the inn. I can see several people heading that way, most likely for dinner. As I draw closer, I can smell a wonderful meaty-spicy scent and my stomach growls. "Mmmmm." Xena's a good hunter and we've eaten well these past few days, but we've also been in near-constant motion, walking all day long for a week, and we burn off our food as fast as we consume it. It will be nice to have a meal we didn't have to catch, clean, and cook first.
Pushing the door to the inn open, I duck inside and hang my cloak on a hook beside the door, then look around, spying Xena at a table, her nose in a mug of ale. "Hey." I slide in next to her and set our bags on the seat across the table. "Did you order me a mug, too?"
"I did." She looks up, her eyes twinkling. "It's on its way. They're making some kind of stew for dinner but it's not quite ready."
"Are you going to chop wood?"
"Tomorrow." She grins. "They said they'd trust me for it, provided you keep your end of the deal with the story-telling. I told them you would. The inn-keeper's daughter is out now, running around town telling everyone there will be entertainment tonight. They're excited, my bard. This far out of the way, I think you're going to be a rare treat for them."
"Good. Maybe I can tell some of my older, more-polished stories and not have to worry they've already heard them." A young woman delivers my ale and I accept the mug from her. "Thank you."
"Oh, no, thank you, miss." She beams at me. "I heard Gabrielle the bard was going to be here tonight. That's you, right?"
"You've heard of me?" I nearly choke on the sip of ale I've just taken, and Xena pats my back as she talks.
"Why yes. Fellow named Homer was through here last year and he accidentally left a few scrolls behind. They've been passed all over town. We've read all about you and Xena here." She bows a little. "Excuse me, but I need to get back in the kitchen and finish up the stew."
As she walks away, Xena laughs and claps me on the shoulder. "So much for your older stories."
"Yeah." I take another sip of ale. "Guess I'll just have to tell some of the stories from after I met Homer. Let's see -- there's you getting Hades his helmet back. Or you rescuing me and Joxer from Callisto. Oh, or you saving me from Cecrops' ship. Or how about the one where you -- umpphhhh." She covers my mouth and I glare at her.
"Do you have any stories that aren't about me?" She frowns and braces her boot against the table leg.
"Oh, let's see." I roll my eyes toward the ceiling and mentally run through my scrolls. "Nope. Sure don't. Guess you'll just have to suffer though hearing about yourself." I grin cheekily at her and she tries really hard to look perturbed, but the little smile tugging at her lips gives her away. She's such a fraud sometimes.
"Maybe I'll skip out and start chopping that wood tonight." She nudges me and drains her mug, smacking her lips. We both know she doesn't mean it. I know she likes hearing me tell stories, even if they are about her.
"Do that, and I might tell a few love stories while you're out." I nudge her back.
To my surprise, she leans over and tucks one hand behind my head, indulging in a rare public kiss. I draw back, blinking in surprise. "No you won't, because you'd embarrass yourself every bit as much as you'd embarrass me." She pecks my lips one more time and then nonchalantly accepts a mug from a rather frustrated servant girl, who apparently observed us.
"You got me." And she does. I can feel myself blushing, though I'm pleased she's in such a good mood. The distance, even a comfortable distance, was starting to wear on me. With that kiss, I felt much of our world righted again.
"No, you got me." She smiles and winks at me. I smile back and look up, as two large bowls of stew are delivered to our table by yet another shy servant girl. We both dig in, dipping slices of soft, freshly-baked bread into the stew and washing it all down with more of the nutty ale. It's a delicious meal, the stew full of bits of rabbit, chunks of potatoes, and lots of carrots and peas. I eagerly accept a second serving and get a knowing grin from Xena. "Hungry?" She eyes my dinner and helps herself to a spoon-full.
"You know it." I shove the bowl between us. "Share with me?"
"Sure. Thanks." We share not only our meal, but a little small talk, making idle observations about the inn and the various people also eating dinner under its low roof. Finally, I finish and stand, preparing to make my way to the front to tell my stories. "You'll do great." She gives me a subtle pat on the backside and I smile in return.
I've always liked telling stories, and this is a good night, with an eager and receptive crowd. It's always nice to not have to win them over first. After introducing myself, I proceed to tell three stories, all of them about Xena and her heroics, of course. From time to time, I look toward our corner table and catch her eye. Each time, she gives me a smile of encouragement, but most of all, I love catching her expression before our eyes meet, when she's just listening. At turns she's buried in her mug, hiding in embarrassment, but at others her face is gently glowing in memory of our shared adventures.
I like that -- having a history with someone. Lately I feel us easing out of that crazed new lover phase and into something infinitely more satisfying -- the comfort of being intimately in tune with someone on many levels, not just the physical. We enjoy being together, no matter what we're doing. If we didn't, I don't think we'd still be together after three years. She sometimes reminds me that the life we lead is uncertain. We might grow old or we might die in battle tomorrow. The one thing I've learned is to live fully in the moment, because it might be our last one.
Finally, I finish my stories and say a few polite good-nights, then make my way to her and hold out my hand. She takes it and I haul her to her feet, and lead her to our room. It's late and we agree to save the hot bath for the morning, after she's done her wood-chopping. We bathe every day no matter where we are, even if it means using streams or lakes, so it's not like we aren't relatively clean.
She closes the door and gets the fire going in the fireplace. I slip into a sleeping shirt and make my way to the window, looking out. "Xena, it's snowing."
"Really?" She joins me, wrapping her arms around me from behind and resting her chin on my head. "Sure is."
"Think we'll get snowed in?" I look up and over my shoulder at her.
"Nah. Too early in the season. I'll be surprised if it even sticks." She nuzzles my hair a little and we continue to watch the dainty flakes fall past the window.
I had some time to think, even while telling stories, and I realized something I need to share with her. "Xena, remember when you told me I am just me, not what you made me?"
"Yeah." I feel her stiffen a little against me, though she doesn't move away. "Why?"
"Tonight, telling stories about Xena the hero, I realized something. I may have changed since meeting you, but the person I was when I met you -- that Gabrielle would never have followed after a warlord. The Xena I followed after was a hero to me, from the moment I first laid eyes on you. I'm not like Glaphyra. She followed after a warlord."
"I never thought you were like Glaphyra," she comments quietly.
"I know, but my point is this. I followed a hero, not a murderer. And yes, I've changed, but is any of that change really bad? I can take care of myself now. And yes, I can fight with my staff, but I'm not a warrior, am I?"
"No." She chuckles. "I hate to break it to you, but you don't have the instincts of a warrior." Her voice grows sober. "You don't want to be a warrior, do you?"
"No." I shake my head emphatically. "Not anymore. I don't want to be you anymore, Xena. I just want to be the best me I can be. And you're helping me be that person. I'm much better with you than I ever was without you."
She grows still behind me, and I hear her swallow. After a bit, I feel her lips near my ear. "I don't know, Gabrielle. I'd like to believe that, but I just don't know."
"Believe it." I turn in her arms and place a hand against her chest. "Think about it. Even Glaphyra and Darnelle have changed for the good after meeting up with the person you are now. If two murderers can change their ways because of you, think how much more someone like me can change for the good after meeting you. You're a good person, Xena."
"Not sure I agree with your logic." She smiles sadly. "But I'm glad you feel that way. Come on." She tugs at my hand. "Bedtime for bards and warriors."
We douse a few candles and crawl under a wonderfully thick, soft quilt. I snuggle up to her and we share a few long, leisurely kisses. After a bit, I break away and search her face in the faint light from the fireplace. "You know I love you, don't you?"
"Absolutely." She kisses me one more time, then pulls me against her, holding me tightly. "Love you too, Gabrielle. Always," she whispers. I feel her lips brush across my forehead and I close my eyes. I've learned one thing from this past week -- unless we're hermits, none of us get to be who we are alone. For good or for bad, we've got little parts of everyone in our lives inside us. And there's something else I know. I love being a part of her and I love knowing she's a part of me. No matter what, I wouldn't have it any other way.
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Next in the BTL series -- "The Coming of Shadows" (post The Deliverer)
Note from the writer: I shamelessly stole the title of this story from the Indigo Girls song, All That We Let In. I'll spare you re-hashing the entire set of lyrics. They're here for anyone who is curious:
http://www.metrolyrics.com/all-that-we-let-in-lyrics-indigo-girls.html
I think a lot of that song fits X&G. The next few stories I will probably steal titles from Babylon 5 episodes. I must say, writing this story was painful, knowing what is coming in the next episode.