Revelation

I watch her, how she rides next to me. How she looks at me when she thinks I'm not looking. I see her avoid my eyes when I try to make eye contact. It's frustrating, not knowing what's going on in her mind. Is she tired of me? Tired of the continuous fighting? Does she need a break from our life? From me? I don't know what to make of this behaviour.

This morning she finally told me she has trouble sleeping. She still thinks I don't notice these things, still believes that she can toss and turn for hours while I lay sleeping completely unaware of anything that might be going on with her. In reality, I find it hard to sleep knowing something is eating away at her.

Something has changed in her but I have no idea why. The obvious reason would be the fact that we died and came back, but I'm not convinced that's what it is. You'd think dying and getting revived would bring two people closer together. Not in our case. Xena is more distant than she's ever been. I can't help but wonder if it's something I did. I can't imagine what it could be. I haven't changed. I'm still the same Gabrielle I've always been. She's not usually one to brood and lose sleep over stuff, but this time that's exactly what she does. In general she's the confrontational type, not one to hide her thoughts from me the way she does now. Something is wrong and I know she's not going to tell me unless I force it out of her.

That's what I try to do as she gets into the tub with me later that day. What she tells me is true, she feels guilty because of the crucifixion, as guilty as if she personally drove the nails through my hands and feet. So stupid. After all this time she still doesn't know that I'd rather die at her side than face my life without her, so she feels bad about it. That much I believe, but I'm not convinced that's the reason she lies awake at night.

I wonder why something as simple and relaxing as taking a bath together has gotten her all tied up in knots. I try my best to help her relax, but my hands seem to have lost their touch, she remains wound tightly, like a spring.

"What's gotten into you?," I try again.

"Haven't we been over that already?," She says, her voice low and rougher than I expected it to be. She's determined not to tell me anything. Sometimes she's more stubborn than a mule.

"I don't think you're telling me everything."

"I told you everything you need to know,"her answer is a direct stab in the heart.

"I didn't know your life was on a need to know basis," I snap.

Occasionally I get the feeling that I'll never be more to her than that stupid girl from Potidaea that started following her around like a lost puppy. I'm still the same person, but I'd hope by now I'd earned my place, earned her trust and that no part of her life would be off-limits to me. When she closes herself off the way she does now, it's painful. She has to know she can tell me anything. So why won't she?

I give up on trying to help her unwind with a sigh, taking my hands off her shoulders and distancing myself a little bit. I don't want to be too hands on with her.

Ever since I met her I've been meticulous in not crossing any boundaries. I've skirted around the edges of what's appropriate between two women who share their lives but not a bed. Not because I'm afraid of crossing the line, but because she might be. I don't want to drag her down a road she doesn't want to go down and risk our friendship. It means too much.

The first time I saw her she took my breath away.

Me, my sister Lila and a bunch of other girls from Potidaea were captured by a slaver and out of nowhere Xena appeared. She wasn't even dressed like a warrior, but wore something that resembled a white undergarment. At first she didn't do anything, she just observed the men and next thing I knew she was kicking and screaming, saving all of us from a life in slavery.

I will never forget how she took control of the situation, how she fought. I'd never seen a woman do anything like that. She wasn't a woman at that moment, she was a force of nature. Wild, fierce, deadly and more beautiful than anyone I'd ever seen. I wanted to be her. I don't think there was anyone who wasn't exactly as awestruck as I was. I remember Lila asking me if I'd ever seen something like that. I could hear my own admiration in my sister's voice.

I watched her fight with my heart in my throat. She had such control over her body, every movement measured, deliberate, meticulously planned and perfectly executed. Every step, every kick, every punch and every throw of her sword hitting the mark. It was like watching a dance, only much more exciting and infinitely more beautiful. She finished the job by throwing her chakram, it was like an extension of her own hands.

When I saw the chakram I knew who she was. I had heard bards sing about her, people who had crossed her path had visited my village and described her as the angel of death. The stories were wild, claiming she came down from the heavens in a flaming chariot throwing thunderbolts and breathing fire. Even before I ever laid eyes on Xena I knew those stories were fairy tales. Nevertheless, all stories had one thing in common, Xena was bad news. Xena was the destroyer of nations, someone so evil and violent there were rumours of her drinking the blood of the men she'd slain.

As I witnessed Xena in action I noticed how easily she took out a number of men that outnumbered her and I knew there was some truth to the rumours. I understood that someone so powerful might easily be swayed to the dark side. But she wasn't destroying anything, she was saving us and I didn't question her motives. I believed in her from the start.

I was mesmerized.

I'd been told of her beauty, but nothing I'd heard came close to what I witnessed. I knew I'd never meet anyone like her again and that I couldn't just let her go, so I followed her. A decision I've never regretted, not even when I was dying on that cross. Life with Xena is not always simple. She never picks the easy road and she's difficult, easily bored, short tempered, impatient, stubborn, blunt and she still has trouble letting people in, letting me in. That can be hurtful, but being with her makes it worth all that.

We finish our bath.

My wet clothes have dried and warmed up by the fire. Once I've dried off I put them back on and feel more comfortable than I have in days. Bathing always makes me feel new. Like submerging yourself can wash away more than just dirt.

I don't look at her while she's getting dressed.

I used to but I've come to realize, there's no point in looking, in getting yourself all worked up over something you can never have. Something that's so close and at the same time so far out of reach can drive you insane if you let it. I've stopped letting it. You can never stop wanting something completely, but you can stop thinking about it. Stop hoping, stop dreaming. And stop trying to be noticed by the object of your unwanted affection.

Once dressed we find our way back to the main building and eat in complete silence. She still won't look at me. I can't remember the last time the silence between us felt so awkward. If only she'd tell me what's wrong, what I did to deserve this silence. If only she'd stop being so stubborn.

At least her appetite seems to have returned. Nothing is as worrisome as watching my friend just play with her food. At least that's not the case now.

"How can I help you?," I ask eventually.

She puts down her cup and finally looks me in the eye. Her eyes seem much darker than they are in the dim light of a single chandelier and a few mounted candles in each corner of the room.

"What makes you think I need your help?"

The question is kind of hurtful. Why has me offering to help her with anything earned me that tone?

"Please just tell me what's wrong. Whatever it is we can deal with it. Together," I try my very best not to sound whiny but I do hear the desperation in my voice. I don't want to push her any further away by making her feel like she has something to feel guilty for, like she's doing me wrong somehow, even if it does feel that way at least a little bit. I know she doesn't mean to hurt me.

"What if this is something you of all people can't help me with?" She looks at me quizzically, like she's trying to determine if I'm worthy of her trust.

"Just tell me what it is."

"I can't," she says as she lowers her gaze, closing herself off from me once again.

The walls have gone up and there's nothing I can do now, but butt my head into them until I start bleeding. It's maddening.

"I can't believe it!," my voice raises. "After everything you STILL don't trust me!" I get up and snatch the key to our room off the table. I'm done with my food, my wine and her mood. If I stay I'll only get more frustrated, more angry and I might start saying things I will regret later. I've learned that sometimes it is best to walk away, at least temporary.

I groan when I realize our room has a double bed. Speaking of Tantalus' torture. Sleeping in the same bed as the one person in the world you actually want to sleep with, without any chance of anything happening, scores pretty high in that department.

I used to dream of situations like this, I used to think of them as opportunities. I used to try and create moments that would make it easy for our friendship to evolve, situations that put my body conveniently at her disposal. There was a time that I turned every time I changed clothes into a performance. It's quite embarrassing to admit.

I would catch her staring every now and then and the look in her eyes was encouraging to say the least. Plenty encouraging to keep me going and to keep the flame of hope burning in my heart. I'm convinced she knew what I was trying to do. Subtlety has never been my strong point. I even went as far as to experiment with guys, trying to make her jealous. The results were varied. There were a few times I really felt like I was getting to her, but we never spoke about anything. Since she never acted on anything I did, I gave up eventually.

Thinking about the lengths I would go to just to catch her attention is pretty humiliating, so I don't dwell on all that foolishness. Just like I try not to dwell on my feelings.

I've come to accept the way things are. Xena is the most amazing human being in the universe. She's practically a goddess, inside and out. I'm lucky. She considers me her family. I get to travel the world with her, go places most women never get to go. I am always by her side, literally always, even in death she didn't leave me. What more could I possibly ask for?

That question isn't as hard to answer as I'd like it to be.

I curl up in the corner of the bed that's closest to the wall and try to sleep. It's not easy. One of my flaws is that I can't sleep until I know Xena is safe and sound in her bedroll. I've left her downstairs in the small tavern and it's unlikely trouble will find her there. When I went up to the room there were only two guys and the innkeeper left. Not that she doesn't have a penchant for finding trouble. It's just been such an uneventful day that I can't imagine her getting into any problems now. Even if she did, she's a big girl. She can get out of almost anything. Hades knows she's saved me over and over again. I owe her everything.

It takes her a long time to find her way back to me and when she does she's drunk. I can smell the alcohol on her even before she lays down beside me. She's not one to willingly lose herself in anything. Getting drunk means giving up control and I know she hates doing that. If only I knew what drove her to drink today.

I don't ask. I pretend to be asleep, my back turned towards her.

"Gabrielle," she slurs and I ignore. I don't want to talk, not now. It would be too easy to confess my feelings to a drunken version of her. Too tempting to fall back into old habits and see this as an opportunity. What if I turned around and confessed the truth of my love for her by pressing my lips on hers? Would she return that kiss just because her judgement has been impaired? The thought is tempting and also very stupid. I want to know what it's like to kiss her, badly, but unfortunately actions have consequences.

I can't foresee what they will be if I give in now. Even if she did kiss me back in this unguarded moment it could ruin everything that's between us. Let alone what would happen if I really had my way and one kiss would lead to another, lead to more. The results could be devastating.

Some boundaries are best not to cross if you value your friendship.

Maybe, if it was an honest mistake from both of us, our friendship could survive a romp in the hay. But to have something like that happen with what I've been hiding from her, that would be a betrayal. I sigh internally and ignore her again when she whispers my name a second time. I love hearing her say my name, it's not something I'll grow tired of soon.

I hear the sound of her taking off her breastplate and then the bed dents on her side.

I focus on my breathing, trying to sound asleep as she lays down next to me.

"You know I do trust you," comes her voice from next to me in a low whisper. Her words are still a little slurred but I can understand her perfectly.

"You know I love you more than anything. I know I can tell you anything but some things are best kept to yourself, you know?"

I know exactly what she means, but not what she is talking about. I hold still, hoping she'll tell me more. The bed moves again and I feel her looming over me. Is she looking at me? If so, what is it that she sees? It's pretty dark, so probably not much.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I just don't want to ruin everything."

She sounds emotional but that's probably the booze. It still touches me to know that she really does want to open up, but for some reason feels like she can't. It touches me, but also annoys me. I literally can't think of a single thing she could tell me that would turn me away from her.

Her hand suddenly moves down my back, making me shiver. That's unusual. She's not the sentimental type, not someone who hands out touches and compliments and declarations of love just like that. For her to touch me like this, so suddenly and uninvited is strange. She caresses me again, her fingers touching down at the base of my neck before travelling down my spine. There is such tenderness in her touch it would surprise anyone who's ever watched her fight.

I grow so weak inside that my resolve not to give in to temptation is starting to fade away. By the time her hand moves back up my spine, it's almost impossible not to turn around. My heart rate went up and I feel as giddy as a young girl who's about to lose her maidenhead. Of course I'm not on the verge of losing anything. That's why I don't move. Not when her hand moves over my side and settles on my abdomen, nor when her warm, soft body presses itself into my back.

By the gods, it's hard to breathe this was, but gods, it feels fantastic to lie in her firm grip. A girl could get used to that. If this is the effect a little booze has on her I should really get her drunk more often. For the first time that day I feel her body relax and before long she's snoring softly in my ear. Her breath warm and comforting against my neck. For me, it's a lot more difficult to fall asleep, but eventually I do manage.

When I wake up the next morning, both her arms are wrapped around me, one of them beneath my neck the other one around my waist. How nice it must be to wake up like this every day. I should untangle myself from her, get up before she finds herself holding me like this. She might be embarrassed. I should, but knowing the right thing to do doesn't mean that you can. I can't move because I like being exactly where I am, in her arms. I feel like I belong there, like everything is finally the way it should be. So I lie, comfortably frozen in her arms. Until she wakes.

She grunts, my warrior princess turned teddy-bear and then she lets go of me, at which point I pretend to wake up. I turn around and smile at her.

"Good morning"

Her reaction is strange, a mumbled morning while she hurries out of the room as if she can't get away from me fast enough. Maybe I should have saved her from waking up the way she did, or maybe I'm reading too much into it. It's possible that she's just badly hungover and in desperate need of the little girl's room. I hope that's true.

I get up, wipe the sleep from my eyes, brush what's left of my hair and wait. When it finally dawns on me that she's not coming back I go down to the tavern.

That's where I find her, sitting at a table by herself with a bowl of gruel in front of her. Lost in thought so deeply that she barely notices when I join her. She looks lost, scooping the unappetizing looking mush out of the bowl just to watch it drip off her spoon when she tilts her hand. Again, not hungry. But not surprising considering she's never cared for any kind of porridge.

"Hungover?"

She looks at me like I caught her in the middle of some illicit activity, blue eyes wide in shock, they only rest in mine for a few short seconds before darting off to the table between us.

"I should have tempered my thirst last night, that's for sure."

"Well, at least you got a good night's sleep. That must have been the first one in weeks."

"You don't miss much, do you?"

"Not when it comes to you. I still don't know what's keeping you up at night."

"You are never going to let it go, are you?," she groans, finally taking a spoonful of gruel into her mouth. She swallows, makes a face and pushes the bowl away. I watch her pick up her cup to rinse the taste from her mouth.

I shake my head.

"Why not? Why can't you accept that some things are better left unsaid?"

"I hate seeing you this way." I want to take her hand but decide against it.

"What way? Hungover?" She jokes at the table, sporting that sexy, crooked smile she uses whenever she jokes to hide her insecurity.

"You're obviously in pain. It must be bad if you feel the need to drown your sorrows."

"I'm not exactly in pain, although I do have a throbbing headache."

"That's not surprising, you smelled like a brewery when you came to bed last night," I immediately regret letting that slip. Not only because I just gave away that I was wide awake while I pretended to be asleep, but because I feel like my words turn one thing into another. When you came to bed last night. That sounds like something one spouse would say to another. It sounds married. I don't want her to think I was just lying there waiting for her to cuddle up to me, but I'm afraid my words imply exactly that.

"You were awake?"

I grunt, putting my elbows on the table while I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Yes."

I try to meet her eyes, but she's fascinated with the table.

"Oh,"she utters, the sound barely audible. Her face is a shade of red that I haven't seen on her before. It doesn't make much sense. Sure, she was a little it more emotional than usual and she spooned me, but her booze filled state provides her with a perfect alibi for that behaviour. I, on the other hand, have no excuse for letting her hold me like we're lovers, no other excuse than the truth.

"Why did you pretend to be asleep?"

"That is… a really good question."f

"I guess you heard my apology after all."

"I did."

"I was drunk," she looks up. I'll never get enough of her eyes. Since eye contact has become somewhat of a rarity I've come to appreciate them more. In some instances her eyes are the most innocent cornflower blue, in other situations as grey as the sky before heavy rainfall. They're very expressive, easy to read mostly, whenever she wants them to be. For other occasions she has a wicked pokerface. Right now I can't read anything from her face, other than that it's red.

"Are you trying to tell me that you didn't mean your apology?" The red is slowly fading from her cheeks.

"No, that's not it. I meant everything I said."

"Good."

I smile at her and she smiles back. It still feels awkward, her smile seems shy even if that word doesn't fit with who she is at all.

"You don't have to be embarrassed. I'm human, you are human. Humans sometimes need the comfort of another body pressed up against them. There really is no shame in that, it's completely normal, I promise." My mouth suddenly runs off with me, the way it tends to do in awkward situations, like I can talk normalcy back into any kind of weirdness. Usually it has the opposite effect.

I mean what I'm saying, but I can tell it's not exactly helping the situation, the red is returning to her face with a vengeance and she no longer looks at me. The last thing I wanted to do is create more awkwardness and suddenly I wonder if what I said is weird, so I kind of repeat it.

"Everyone has physical needs. I mean platonic needs that are physical."

I hear crickets as soon as I close my mouth and then I realize that I've made it worse. Because I'm an idiot I think I can rescue the situation by continuing on. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to talk about "everyone"maybe she's embarrassed cause she thinks I only let her cuddle me because I felt bad for her and her needs. Like it was something I just allowed to happen out of the goodness of my heart.

"What I meant to say is that you're not the only one with those needs. When I say everyone, I do mean everyone, me included. So that's why I just let it happen. It was nice, like a nice platonic cuddle, you know. It didn't really mean much, but it didn't mean nothing either. Either way, it was just you and me being humans and seeking a bit of shelter because we both needed that, well, at least I did. I don't know about you, but since you initialised the cuddling, I can only assume that I wasn't the only one who felt that need. So anyway. It's okay. Nothing weird. "

It's at this point that I realize that I'm like a headless chicken, running around in the maze I created with my own dumb words. I'm talking about my feelings and my needs and even if I haven't given that much away, I feel my own face catching fire. So I smile, to hide my discomfort. I try to stop verbalizing every thought that pops into my head, but the stream of words falling from my mouth, has taken off and is turning into a rapid of nonsense that inevitably leads up to a confession of sorts.

I hear myself talk in circles, about needs and human contact and friendship and family. About what she means to me, what our bond means. I try to stop myself, but I've come too far. I can't stop this far down the line, consequences be damned. I seriously doubt I'll be telling her anything new anyway.

"Look. I know you're not interested in me in that way. I've long abandoned any hope of ever becoming anything more than what we are and trust me I am not complaining. I'm happy. I love you and you love me and I don't need anything more. I mean, I wouldn't say no to more, but realistically, who would? You are a goddess, really, I don't have to tell you how beautiful you are. , " I take a deep breath before I continue talking.

"What I'm saying is, you're beautiful, inside and out and I love you. I guess one could say I'm in love with you. I totally am, for real. But however I feel is not your problem. "

If I stare any harder at the table I might burn a hole in it. She doesn't say anything. She's probably in shock. I can't blame her. I guess it's a weird thing to hear from someone you see as a sister.

"Like I said. It's not your problem. I can deal with it. I have been dealing with it. I don't expect anything from you. "

There it is. All my cards are laid out on the breakfast table. I've probably just added to her hangover and ruined the most important thing in my life, yet I feel strangely relieved. I never feel good about hiding things from her. I'm pretty certain I'll start feeling extremely embarrassed in a minute or two, once she's re-cooperated enough to properly turn me down. For now she's still not saying anything, but she looks awfully shocked when I cast a quick glance in her direction.

"You know what?," I speak again. "You don't even have to respond. It's fine, really. For some reason I just had to get that off my chest, but I'm good now, you know? Let me just wash my humiliation off and we're good to go!" With that I get up and leave her behind.