"A Good Deed Never Goes Unpunished"
The festival was in town, and merry people wearing their most brightly colored and well-mended clothes were everywhere. The tavern was full of these folks, drawn there by the smell of savory meats from the kitchen. A group in one corner kept trying to break into a bawdy song, but frequently interrupted themselves with laughter.
Xena and Autolycus sat in the bustling tavern, catching up and gossiping while Gabrielle took the opportunity to visit vendors at the festival outside. They had fallen to recounting tales of their times with people they both knew.
Autolycus was reflecting thoughtfully. "So I guess Hercules did for me a little what he did for you. But, you've without a doubt helped."
Xena looked at the thief incredulously. "No. I don't see much parallel at all. You've never been anything like what I was—and," she laughed, "you haven't changed much from knowing us."
Autolycus grumbled into his ale about having to relinquish chances at jewels due to her and Herc's meddling, and Xena ignored him.
"No—you're not much like me at all—it's Gabrielle you're like."
At this Autolycus looked at her like she'd grown a squid's head. "You've got to be kidding. No offense to Gabrielle, mind you—indeed, she's the one who'd be in her rights to take offense at a comparison like that—but—"
"You both talk too much, for one thing," Xena interrupted acidly.
Autolycus had no response to this.
"But that's not what I really mean," Xena continued, contemplating. "You forget how well I know your dark secret—"
"Now wait a minute—"
"I was there, you know. Inside your head. I know how generous you are." She was slightly mocking and perfectly serious all at once, a fond and mischievous glint in her eyes.
"Hey, do you have to talk so loud? Keep it down," he said, glancing around with paranoia.
Xena smiled at his discomfiture, and then spoke, still serious. "It's people like you and Gabrielle that I've tried to surround myself with, to keep me from sliding back."
He looked at her with consternation in his brown eyes.
"That makes no sense. I mean, Gabrielle, sure—she'd do that—but I'm the King of Thieves! You've been the one reforming me, not the other way around!"
"That's what I thought at first. Until I figured out you really don't care about riches or precious objects at all—"
"Sssh! You could destroy a guy's reputation talking that way!"
"You never have many dinars on you," she pointed out.
"I spend them. I'm very good at spending my dinars—other people's dinars—"
"With your thievery skills, you could have a castle full of riches, a storehouse."
"How do you know I don't?—a secret one—"
"Instead, you walk around with almost nothing—"
"I have stashes."
"Liar. You keep a bit of what you steal for food, lodging, replacement—lockpicks," she gestured to indicate the random tools of his trade, "and the rest mysteriously disappears."
Autolycus sat up and spoke haughtily. "A man has to have his mysteries."
Xena laughed, thoroughly enjoying her friend's display of pomposity.
After a while, Autolycus returned to the subject from a different angle. With a slight, sneaky smile, he said, "If I was so much like Gabrielle, I would have had better luck with you."
Xena flashed him a warning look.
"You can't fool me either, Xena." He spoke gently, his smile wry. "You're besotted with her, and too—too something, I don't know what—to pursue it, as you should." Since she's obviously besotted with you, he thought to himself. Maybe there's a way Gabrielle and I are alike—our similar good taste in tall, dark-haired, drop-dead beautiful women.
He watched Xena, hoping speaking the words openly might have some effect.
0000000
Gabrielle came back then from her shopping expedition to find Xena and Autolycus in friendly conversation in the tavern. She noted from their expressions that they'd been arguing over something.
As she dumped her bags full of treasures and sat, Gabrielle prodded, "OK, spill. It looks like what you've been talking about is too interesting not to share."
The glances they gave each other then made Gabrielle wonder, but she did not let on, just waited.
"Well, I was just saying that you and Autolycus here are quite alike," Xena began, a bit more loquaciously than normal.
Gabrielle gave her a disbelieving look. "Did somebody put something in your drink? Come on, that's ridiculous—I can't think of any of anyone I'm less like. No offence, Autolycus."
"None taken," he replied smoothly, then both he and Gabrielle looked thoughtful for a moment, neither noticing Xena smirking into her drink.
"There is one thing," Autolycus began. Gabrielle saw and pretended to ignore the warning look Xena gave him—she was more interested for the moment in what he was about to say. "We are both good at disguises."
Gabrielle nodded judiciously. "True, true. And we both know how to talk ourselves out of a difficult situation."
Autolycus smiled graciously in agreement—Gabrielle could tell he was enjoying the mutual approbrium as much as she was.
"'Cause you are both so talented at getting yourselves into the worst fixes," Xena snarked, downing the last of her cup.
Gabrielle laughed, and exchanged a mutual glance of rueful agreement with Autolycus. They really couldn't deny that one.
After Xena left to make sure Argo's needs were tended to in the town during their stay, Gabrielle finally got a chance to ask.
"What was that really all about? I saw you and Xena were arguing about something—a little more serious."
"Eh, nothing, really," he said, evasive, and poured her some of the ale.
"Hmm." Gabrielle said, but didn't pursue it then, knowing that waiting often worked better.
After she'd shown off her purchases—a frying pan (again), some healing salve, a scroll of poetry—she drank her ale and watched the people in the tavern.
Autolycus was the one to return to the subject. "There is one similarity we have that Xena and I did not talk about," he said, a bit reluctantly. Gabrielle listened eagerly.
"What is that?"
"Well, you know I've always admired her."
"And I do too?—no, that's nothing significant. Half the known world admires her—her good deeds, her fighting skill—the ones who know who she is and know she's no longer a bloodthirsty warlord, at least," Gabrielle amended.
"That's not the way I mean it," he said seriously.
"Oh, you mean-?"
He grew thoughtful and reminiscent. "She caught my eye right away—not just her obvious beauty, but something compelling—" he shook off the thought. "But, see, with me, it could never be anything serious or real, but you, on the other hand—"
Gabrielle spoke carefully. "What do you mean, exactly?" She, of course, knew, but was terribly curious what Autolycus had to say on the subject.
"It's obvious, isn't it? You adore her. I mean, sure, who with any sense wouldn't?—but with you—I can see you are head over heels for her." He was speaking uncharacteristically gravely.
Gabrielle neither confirmed nor denied anything, but was completely without argument in her tone as she said, with a slight smile, "How do you know what's in my heart, Autolycus?"
"I saw, when she kissed you—used me to kiss you—" he shook his head. "Weird situation. But, I was there. I saw the devotion and passion in your eyes."
Gabrielle found it oddly reassuring to be told in low tones in the middle of a noisy tavern exactly the nature of her deepest feelings. Slowly, she nodded, smiling sadly. "Thank you."
He seemed a bit surprised at that, and she clarified, "It's good to be seen." She reached out and squeezed his hand.
He laughed slightly. "So, you don't mind, that I was there for such a personal moment?"
She laughed outright, quietly. "It's not like you could help it. Besides, Xena was right about you—right to trust you. It was—not a problem."
That seemed to shut him right up—for some reason Autolycus got uncomfortable when people said such things to him. He gulped down some of his ale.
After a bit, he managed to speak again. "Then—you wouldn't mind me asking a rather personal question?"
"Go ahead. You're going to, anyway."
"If you feel that way toward Xena, why don't you do something about it?"
"Do something?—what would you suggest? That I sweep her off her feet?" Gabrielle's tone, she knew, betrayed a bit of her impatience. "Xena is a—stubborn person, set in her ways. I'm satisfied with the status quo—which is most wonderful, and I should be grateful for things as they are."
He looked like he wanted to say something, but then was stopping himself. Then he said, "I'm not the one to offer suggestions here," and Gabrielle noted that Autolycus in humble mode, however rare, was odd but not as much of a shock as she might have thought it would be. "It just seems strange to me, that you two—well, that you aren't already lovers."
Gabrielle regarded Autolycus for a few moments. "Wouldn't you be jealous?" she asked bluntly.
"Uh—" he stumbled.
"You were just saying, you were drawn to Xena when you first met her."
"Yes. Yes, I was. But—that was nothing in comparison."
"Nothing?" she asked kindly. "If you see her anything like I do—"
"Xena is remarkable," he admitted. "And I—yes, I have a soft spot for her. But any romance I had thought to pursue"—he shook his head decisively. "I wouldn't want that now. Not after seeing what I've seen here, not knowing like I do now what should be between you and Xena—she's spoken for, and even I have a—sense of honor about these things."
Gabrielle spoke with a sudden spontaneous warmth. "You're a good friend to us, Autolycus, and I appreciate what you are trying to do." Then she said, sadly, "But I don't hold out much hope here, and really, that's not so bad." She was rationalizing, she knew, but she had truly come to a peace about this.
Autolycus looked down, and she figured he was avoiding her eyes because of her expression of gratitude, but then she saw him pull out a scroll from his supplies.
"Maybe you are right. But I'll keep hoping. This is for you."
She opened it eagerly. "More poetry! By—?" Gabrielle searched.
"Sappho, an island poet," he supplied. "I thought you might find her work interesting." He smiled, a playful light in his eyes.
"Thank you!" she enthused. Gabrielle had heard of Sappho, but had not yet been able to find her work—she was overjoyed at any new poet, and knew quite well the significance of this one to their conversation.
Xena reappeared then, and Gabrielle added the new scroll without comment to her other one, and the conversation became practical again.