A/N: This story is set towards the end of Season Three.
Quality Dying Time
Xena's first thought, as usual, was of Gabrielle.
Amazingly, given the circumstances, she did not first think about the agony in her legs or the biting cramp clawing its way up her back, across her shoulders and down her arms. Nor did she dwell even for a second on the fact that her left foot appeared to be crushed flat, or that there was so much blood streaming down her face that she could feel its warmth pooling in the hollow of her throat. No, it was Gabrielle she was worried about, and with good reason.
The rock-fall had taken them both by surprise. Just another one of those freakish moments that peppered their lives with the stuff of which nightmares were born. Just another mid-summer's injury, just another possibly fatal encounter with the elements.
Another one for the history scrolls, Gabrielle, groaned the warrior silently as she shook her head to clear her eyes of stinging dust. A thousand tiny pebbles trickled softly from her hair and slid from her cheeks and forehead. When her vision didn't improve, she tried again, only to discover that what was making her blink so heavily wasn't dust – it was congealing blood. Great.
Miracle of miracles, she had ended up on her back. She attempted to sit up and discovered that she was going to do no such thing, at least for a while. Even if she had been free to the waist, which she was not, the slab across her legs ensured that she would not have been able to move one inch in either direction.
Instinct told her exactly where Gabrielle lay, just as instinct told her that they weren't going to get out of this one in a hurry. These rocks were big. Really big.
Xena coughed and cleared her throat, the gravelly noise trapped in the rocks with her. "Gabrielle? Gabrielle?"
There was no answer, and as the dust settled, Xena allowed herself to succumb to the insistent pain. Just for an instant, just long enough to become its master. For that instant, her breath quickened and her teeth clenched, but after that instant she was calm. Focused. The pain had been pushed into her other, shadowed self - the one that was not allowed to surface without permission.
So, coughing slightly, she tried again, not allowing her panic to show in her voice. "Gabrielle, can you hear me?" Gabrielle, answer me … come on, please…
A groan cut through the hazy film of the air. "Xena?"
"Isn't it always?"Gabrielle was alive. Thank the gods.
"Sadly, yes," was the dim reply, followed by a dry cough.
Xena grinned, blinked again, felt the film of drying blood on her eyelids crack into flakes. "Are you okay?"
"I don't … I don't know," answered Gabrielle, her voice distant and fogged. "Think so. Are you?"
"I'll live," replied the warrior shortly, flinching as her left foot battered down her defences for a moment. For a few days, anyway. "Anything bad?"
There was a short silence and for the first time Xena could make out her partner through the haze. She was on her side facing the warrior, less than arm's length away. One arm was splayed above her head in a painfully disjointed salute, the rest of her body obscured by the rocks and sand between them. Her eyes were shut tightly and there was blood seeping from a laceration on her scalp.
Gabrielle's voice was very small. "Think … think maybe my arm's broken."
The warrior's relief tasted like metal on her tongue. All those rocks…"Is that all? Is your head okay?"
"Why?"
"You're bleeding."
"I am?"
"Yeah, open your eyes."
Another dry cough, dirt-rimmed eyes still sealed. "Ah … no … no, not yet … they kinda hurt. Xena? Is it snowing?"
Xena squinted, confused. "No, it's just the dust from the cliff. It'll stop soon. Where else are you hurt?"
"I'm cold…"
Xena's heart leapt in her chest, eyes quickly raking the rocks that pinned them both to the ground. Two small words, so many reasons to panic. If Gabrielle was cold it meant she was losing blood, and if she was losing blood it meant… Damn it.
New urgency in her voice. "Gabrielle, where else are you hurt?" The bard coughed again and this time Xena heard a bubble in the back of her throat. "WHERE?"
"My side. I think. There's something…" Her voice trailed off as a new round of coughs claimed her. When she had finished, the dust was not the only thing whitening her face. "Gods…"
"Sit tight, okay? Okay, Gabrielle?" Xena was working frantically on her right arm. One step at a time, Xena, one step at a time. Wiggle your fingers. Done. Okay, flex your hand. Done. Okay, pull it towards your body. Ow. Done-ish. She couldn't quite fit her wrist through the narrow gap between the two boulders. Pulling…
"Just hold on a second, Gabrielle, I'm-"
"My legs are free I think…"
The warrior flinched. "Mine aren't. But I've nearly … owww … waitasec … YES!"
Her hand came free with a wet, crunching sound, and as she cradled it to her chest, she knew without looking that her knuckles lay open to the bone. The knuckles soon joined her ever-increasingly battered other self, to be worried about later. Xena pulled a few smaller rocks off her chest and body, then abandoned it and reached out to her friend.
"Are you okay, Xena?"
"Yes," assured the warrior with a calm she did not feel. "Hold still. I'm gonna try and clear some of those rocks off you. Okay?"
Gabrielle nodded, the slightest movement of her head. "Okay."
Five minutes later, the warrior had succeeded in clearing away the smaller pieces of debris between them, and was now working on a larger piece nestled against the curve of Gabrielle's stomach.
A sharp intake of breath was the only giveaway Xena got. "That hurts?"
"A little." Gabrielle's clenched teeth contradicted her words. She was breathing shallowly, her eyes still shut. A cut on her forehead stood out starkly against her white skin, and Xena found that for a moment the blood matting the bard's hair horribly fascinated her.
She let her hand press gently on Gabrielle's shoulder. "Just this last one, then I'll rest, and you can rest, okay?"
"Sure."
Xena did not miss the set jaw or the slight ripple of Gabrielle's throat. "I'll be as quick as I can, okay?"
"I know."
"Ready?"
"Yes, just do it, willya?"
With a heave, Xena tipped the good sized boulder away from the bard, setting her own teeth against the fresh rush of pain this brought to her torn stomach muscles. Her head swam, and for a minute she didn't even realise that Gabrielle was quietly whimpering.
"Gabrielle? Wh-" And then she saw, and her voice died in her throat.
There was a gaping tear in Gabrielle's side. The length of a hand, it was crusted with dirt and fine sand, blood leaking from it in a torturously slow, yet relentless evacuation. Gabrielle was paler than white now - almost blue - and Xena had to bite her lip to stop herself from an exclamation of horror.
"Gabrielle? Gabrielle, listen to me."
"Hurts…"
"I know it hurts, I know it does, but you have to listen to me, okay?"
"'Kay."
"Focus on my voice."
"Uh-huh." The bard's own voice was becoming stronger, more solid.
"Okay, now, you've got a bit of a scratch."
"Always the optimist," Gabrielle chuckled softly, then gagged.
"A bit of a scratch," persisted Xena doggedly, "but you'll be fine. Okay? You'll be fine. I need you to tell me a few things. Can you do that?"
"Hurt, Xena. Not stupid."
It was Xena's turn to chuckle weakly. "I can see your left arm. Where's your right?"
Gabrielle's brow furrowed. "Behind me. Under some rocks."
"Can you move it?"
Gabrielle gave a small yelp as she tried to comply, and Xena saw that the movement had made the wound bleed more. "Doesn't feel like it. It isn't hurting, just stuck…"
Great. Free arm broken, good arm trapped. "What about your legs?"
"Something on my left … I don't think I can … but my right leg's free." As if to illustrate this, Xena heard a little scuffling noise coming from behind the boulders blocking her view of the bard's lower body. "Yeah … it's okay. I can move it a bit. Something on my ankle…"
"Well, put us together we nearly make a whole person," joked Xena, before regretting it. This was not a time for humour. "Gabrielle, if you don't open your eyes soon, the blood might seal them shut."
"Okay … just give me a second. Is the dust gone?"
"Mostly."
Gabrielle, with some effort, cracked open one eye, and was greeted by the smiling, bruised, blood-encrusted face of her best friend. "Why hello there, gorgeous," she croaked weakly, before coughing. "What's a nice girl like you doing in a landslide like this?"
"Gabrielle, I said left. It's not my fault if you didn't hear left." Xena flipped open Argo's saddlebag and pulled out a leather water-skin. "Anyway, you're here, so it doesn't matter."
"Sure it does," groused the bard, lowering herself to the ground with a groan. "I had to walk six leagues more than I needed to just to get here. It definitely matters."
"Right at the crossroads, left at the bridge."
"Oh, don't," said Gabrielle, flinging up a protesting hand. "Don't. All right? Just drop it. So I'm deaf. Happy?"
"Atta girl," grinned the warrior, as she unbuckled the saddle and slid it off.
Gabrielle, not caring whether Xena was addressing her or the horse, settled for putting her staff aside and rubbing her feet with a frown.
She had to admit, it was a beautiful spot. The outcrop looked over most of the Mantarus valley and the sea lay like a ribbon of silver away on the horizon. The cliff wall behind them stretched impossibly high, and amazingly, its long shadow had not impeded the growth of the scattered wildflowers among which the bard now sat. Up at this altitude, the heat wasn't as bad, which was probably half the reason Xena had insisted on camping up here.
She looked over at her partner, who was running her hands over Argo and humming softly under her breath. "You're not keeping Argo with us tonight?"
"What makes you think that?" asked the warrior, carelessly tossing the saddle blanket into a heap on the ground. Gabrielle sighed. She would fold it later, and store it, and tomorrow Xena would not even notice.
"You were humming."
"I was not."
"You were. You only hum to her when you're sending her away," said Gabrielle with a smirk. "Otherwise it's a kind of … crooning."
"Gabrielle, I was not humming."
"Were too."
"And I most certainly do not croon."
"Do too."
From somewhere far above, a slight rumbling noise reached them. Xena's eyes were instantly aimed skyward.
"Thunder?" asked the bard, although the sky was hot, unblemished blue.
"No," answered Xena slowly. "Maybe up at the peak. Falling rocks?"
"Anyway," said Gabrielle, unconcerned, "I was right, you're sending her away, aren't you?"
Xena rolled her eyes and slapped Argo's flank lovingly. "Off you go, girl. Find good grass."
The horse obediently trotted off down the slope past the satisfied Gabrielle, picking her way through the scattering of fallen rocks.
"Hope she doesn't throw a shoe," remarked the bard.
"Ooh, look who's fancy with the horse lingo all of a sudden," taunted Xena with a smirk. "Maybe we should get you one of your own."
"Maybe you should go hum up your-"
"I DO NOT HUM."
"And I," announced Gabrielle, stretching out and crossing her arms behind her head, "do not cook. At least, not tonight. I'm tired."
Xena groaned. "Aw, c'mon, Gabrielle…"
"Of course, we could always come to some sort of arrangement."
Ever one to bargain, the warrior settled back and rubbed her hands together. "What sort of arrangement?"
Gabrielle's eyes gleamed. "You could always croon me a little-" Xena's arm moved with lightening speed and the bard's grinning face was suddenly covered by Argo's blanket. "Augh! Phlehh!"
"Want the saddle, too?"
"You know, it smells like you under here," came Gabrielle's muffled voice. She sat up and threw the blanket off with a flourish.
"Are you really not going to make dinner?" asked Xena, with such a petulant pout that Gabrielle had to laugh.
"I'm not hungry," she replied lazily, wadding the blanket and using it for a pillow.
The pout deepened. "I am."
Gabrielle smirked. "You're a big grown-up warrior now, you can do it yourself."
Xena settled back onto her haunches, and Gabrielle realised with a grin that they were about to have an argument that was as familiar to them as each other's faces. Well, far be it from me not to hold up my end.
"Gabrielle, there are certain … divisions of labour in this partnership. I look after Argo-"
"She's your horse!"
"I check the perimeter every night…"
"You make the perimeter! I don't even care if we have a perimeter! You're the only one who worries about it!"
Xena was lost. "Well, I … I…"
"Yes?" asked the bard sweetly.
Xena hefted the water-skin dangerously. "I provide the mess for you to clean up so you can feel useful."
A snort. "Got that right."
"And-"
A sudden thunderous roar sounded from above them.
Gabrielle, who was already on her back, raised her eyes in shock, let out an explosive shout, and had just enough time to roll sideways and fling her arms over her face before the first boulders struck her.
