Asterix slipped the wooden paddle in and out of the water without hardly a ripple. The silence was almost deafening; so still, it was as if he were the only human being on the planet. It was refreshing, in a way, but also instilled in him a sense of great loneliness. It reminded him that he needed to stay focused and careful. His mission depended on it.

The sea stretched out as far as his eyes could see to the north, seeming to go on and on until it fell off the edge of the earth. The cold water was like a giant mirror, reflecting the purplish light that shone down from the heavens. Stars danced in the gentle waves, causing them to wink and shimmer. Like an immense rift, the Milky Way, or so Gatafix called it, strung along the night sky. It was beautiful. Like a peaceful dream. But Asterix had no time for such pleasures.

His plan had been very simple. Sneaking out the back of the village, he had made his way carefully towards the beach. How lucky it was for them that the village was built right up against the sea! It made the likelihood of him being spotted a little less.

Making his way over the cold, wet sand, Asterix found one of the Gauls' many rafts. It took some doing, but the little Gaul finally managed to loosen it from the soil and push it out into the waves. He hopped aboard, bringing his legs out of the chilling water to the dry logs of the craft as if the biting chill burned him. For a summer night, it was unusually frigid. Soon he was out into deeper water. Silent. Dark. Hidden.

After some time he glanced to his left, and slightly behind him. The dark silhouette of the village stood out black against the glittering atmosphere. It looked strangely small in comparison with the vast world in which it resided. For years it had stood, like an island of freedom. While Caesar conquered village after village; country after country; it remained strong. Asterix would do anything to keep it that way.

...

Panacea sat in the wet grass, scowling into the flames of a small fire. It had been two days. She could feel her heart slowly slipping into despair. She knew the Gauls were trying to find a way to save her, but it didn't encourage her as the sun sank into the west for the second time.

She was glad that, besides guarding her, the Romans had left her relatively alone. Commander Spacious had come to gloat over, what he was convinced would be the final blow that would bring the invincible Gauls to their knees. Panacea had responded that her friends, and her father, would never give in. They would never surrender. She was just one life; the village was many, composing of men, women and children. If she had to give up her life for theirs, then so be it.

Spacious had given her the nastiest grin before going back to his lavish tent on the outside of the clearing where the Romans were camping.

Panacea sighed and gazed up at the dark sky above her. The firelight made it impossible to see the twinkling stars, but she knew they were there. She had been raised in this countryside. She knew each sound, each smell, and each sight. She knew that a small creek ran not fifty feet to her right. She knew that a short distance away, dark and mysterious, lay the large boulder she had often climbed as a child. The trees stretched up toward the dark abyss, catching the light and casting long shadows that blended with the gloom of the forest around her.

Panacea's spirit sank even lower. Yes, she was willing to sacrifice everything for her friends, but she knew full well that they were more than willing to do the same for her. Panacea's greatest fear was that the villagers would do something rash in an attempt to save her life. Especially her father. She knew he must be terribly worried. She wasn't sure she could stand anyone getting hurt for her sake.

A twig snapped, causing the young woman to look to her right sharply, golden hair swinging about her shoulders. She frowned when she saw it was one of the Roman guards from before. It was the small, thin fellow who had appeared so nervous earlier.

Panacea fixed him with a distasteful glare. She pulled her tattered cloak about her shoulders. The warm glow of the fire lit her face, giving it a autumn tinge that brought out the blond in her hair. The flames seemed to dance in her eyes as she gazed over the fire at him. The Roman just stood there, a full plate of food in his hands.

"What do you want?" she demanded, not holding back the disdain that had crept into her voice.

The Roman flinched back at her harsh words and took a cautious step back. He was trembling, she noticed, causing the platter and spoon in his hands to jitter and rattle. He looked as if he would dart off back the way he had come at any moment.

Panacea moved her eyes to the plate, giving it a longing look. Whatever it was, it smelt wonderful. She was very hungry, and the enticing aroma made that fact once again known to her stomach with a vengeance.

"What...what is that?" she asked, trying not to sound as interested as she felt.

It wasn't that her captors hadn't been feeding her, but she certainly hadn't been given any feasts. Bread and water, twice a day, had been the limit of their hospitality.

The guard looked about him, as if checking to make sure no one was watching. Which, Panacea though odd, since he was obviously the only guard on duty at the moment. Must be his watch.

Panacea gave him a curious glance as the Roman came over hesitantly, and held the platter out to her. He kept glancing over his shoulder. The young woman took the food carefully, as if she expected it to be poisoned, but the meal looked and smelled fine. In fact, it looked and smelled delicious!

"Th-Thank you," she stammered, thrown off by his kindness.

The Roman gave her a nervous nod, still appearing very edgy. As Panacea began to eat, what looked to be boar stew, the small, thin guard made his way over to the fire and sat down. He didn't venture too close, but he wasn't on the other side of the flames. It became apparent to Panacea that he was doing more than keeping an eye on their prisoner; he was keeping her company.

She cleaned the platter thoroughly, leaving not so much as a drop of evidence it had ever been dirty. She would have licked its surface, if not for the fact that she had been brought up prim and proper. She handed the plate back to the Roman, who set it on the ground at his side. They sat in silence for a moment. The longer the quiet lasted, the more uncomfortable the situation became.

Panacea drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her thin, graceful arms around them, all the while studying her odd, and flighty visitor.

"What is your name," she asked finally, figuring that was the best question to start with.

The Roman startled slightly at her voice. Looking about again, just to make sure the coast was still clear. Establishing once again that it was, he turned back to her. The woman's eyes were catching the honey-colored glow of the firelight, causing them to sparkle. Her expression seemed less imposing; more open and friendly. Or maybe it was just his imagination. Either way, it gave him the courage to reply.

"Anxious."

Well...that was certainly fitting.

Panacea motioned to the empty platter with a tilt of her head. "Why did you bring me that?" Then she added quickly, "Not that I didn't appreciate it. It's just...I wasn't expecting any kindness here."

Anxious nodded understandingly. "I...I saw what they were giving you to eat. It wasn't right...I-I know you're the enemy, but...So, I thought, maybe I could get you a little something." He gave her a shy smile, and Panacea found herself returning it.

This Roman was not like the others. He treated her as an equal. Something she had not expected.

"Couldn't you get in trouble for that?"

The Roman flinched, glancing over his shoulder at the empty clearing. Panacea noticed he was trembling ever so slightly. He's terribly frightened...

"I-I suppose, but you...you needed something to eat. You hadn't had a good meal in so long. Almost four days; since they caught you."

"And you risked getting in trouble for me? That is very...noble of you."

The guard blushed, wringing his hands in a mix of embarrassment and nerves. "I just thought you could use it, after all you've been through."

Panacea's smile faded and her eyes took on a far away look. "I haven't been through nearly as much as my friends have," she said sadly. She fixed her gaze on the glowing embers of the fire, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. She jumped when she felt a gentle touch on her shoulder. She looked up and found that Anxious had scooted closer to her, laying a hesitant hand on her arm. To her surprise, his face contained almost as much despair as her own. But there was something else. Something stronger. Guilt?

"I am so sorry," he said, his voice shaking as he withdrew his hand. "When I was recruited for this mission I...they didn't tell me..." He sighed miserably. "I wish we had never come here. It's not right for us to besiege a village that contains, not only men, but women and children as well. And to use such a terrible weapon..."

Panacea's mind brought up the image of the catapult launching the immense fireball through the air. It had lit up the night sky, almost looking beautiful, if not for its deadly properties. Then it had hit Cacafonix's tree, right against the upper side, just about level with the place where the tree became planks of wood, making up the bard's cottage.

Panacea had screamed. In anger. In fear. It complete and total horror. Disbelief had shown in her eyes as she watched the flames take hold, consuming the building with monstrous energy. Panacea couldn't watch anymore. She had turned and cried into her hands, weeping for what she was sure was the demise of one of her beloved friends. And beside her, grinning like the evil demon she was sure he was, stood Spacious, the Roman Commander.

Anxious watched in remorse as a single, shining tear made its way down the beautiful woman's cheek, leaving behind a wet trail, that glistened in the firelight. More then ever he felt guilt pounding away in his soul. He remembered his own horror that night.

He had watched in quiet fascination as the giant boulder was loaded into the bucket of the catapult. The beam groaned under the added weight, but held firmly. The weapon was positioned and then, to the surprise of most of the Roman garrison, Spacious grabbed a torch from one of his men and held it to the stone. In a soft, thumping explosion, it burst into flames, casting dark and light shadows across the Commander's smirking face.

That was when Anxious had realized what was about to happen.

Oh, he had known that they would be sending at least one boulder into the village. That had been their plan. But he had highly doubted that it would have done much damage. But with the added element of fire...not even the invincible Gauls could fight against such a formidable enemy.

Anxious wanted to say something. He wanted to speak up and try and stop this madness...but he was too afraid. One look at the pure evil on his Commander's face made him freeze. That was not the look of a sane man...

The ropes to the catapult were suddenly cut, and with a whoosh that sounded terrible and odd in the quiet night, the boulder was launched. And as the fireball from destruction itself smashed into the house-laden tree...

...she had screamed.

It was a sound that shattered the night like thunder; like glass. It echoed throughout the forest, frightening birds, still deep in slumber. It spread itself upon the breeze, carrying itself out to sea. But as far as the pain-filled screech may have traveled, no where did it hit harder than the thin soldier's heart. Something about that cry did more to him then any sword or spear ever could have; piercing his very soul. It was a sound that was sure to haunt his dreams for years to come...all because he had been too frightened to speak up.

And now, here he was; sitting with the very woman who they had caused so much suffering. He wanted to comfort her. Tell her everything was going to be fine in the end...But who was he, an accomplice in this horrendous crime, to comfort her, the victim of their misdeed. And yet, comfort was all he could give to ease his pain and guilt.

The two sat in silence, gazing into the now dying fire.

Anxious looked over at the young woman. Her eyes were closed, and a gentle breeze rustled her golden hair. As he watched, the firelight caught something on her finger, causing in to glitter. A ring.

"You are married?" he asked gently.

"Yes," Panacea said, a small smile coming to her face as she looked down at her hand at the circle of gold.

"What is his name?"

"Tragicomix."

"Ah. He is in Condatum, isn't he?"

"Yes."

There was a long pause. An uncomfortable pause.

"Do you have a family?" It was Panacea's turn to inquire.

"Yes," the Roman said, a grin flitting across his face. "I have a beautiful wife. She's a wonderful cook. She sews. She's a real treasure. But her greatest quality is her kind heart."

"Not all that unlike you."

He blushed.

"Have you any children?" the woman asked, turning so she was facing him a little better. He shook his head.

"Not yet. I...I haven't seen her for months. I haven't seem any of my relatives, not even my parents, for at least that long." His face fell. "That's what happens when you sign up with the Roman army."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's not your fault." Quickly changing the subject he asked, "And you? Where is your family?"

The sadness returned to Panacea's beautiful features. She lifted a hand, sweeping it weakly toward the village. "My father lives here. It's where he raised me. I haven't seen him for some time either."

"And your mother?" He caught the look of total devastation. He knew that expression all too well. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Panacea laughed, trying to cover up the tears that had started to show in the corners of her eyes. "It's not your fault."

Well, at least something wasn't, he thought bitterly.

"ANXIOUS!"

The Roman jumped to his feet, getting himself a more inconspicuous distance from the prisoner just as another soldier came into the clearing. It was the big fellow; the one that Panacea had decided looked more like a fat, ugly boar then a man.

"Yes," Anxious squeaked, the nervousness that had diminished over their conversation returning full force.

"Your watch is over. Go get some sleep. I'll watch over the barbarian."

Anxious resisted the urge to give him a piece of his mind. That woman was certainly not a barbarian. She sort of reminded him of his wife. Not in appearance, you understand, but in temperament. In her mannerisms. He hated to leave Panacea with the big brute, but knew she would be safe. Spacious had ordered no one to touch her, on penalty of death. Anxious gulped as he remembered laying his hand on the woman's shoulder. He was digging himself into a deeper and deeper hole, he knew. He just hoped that hole wouldn't become his grave.

...

Here we go, another one. :) I couldn't find if there ever was a Roman named Anxious in the comics, so I came up with this one. If there is one somewhere, this is not the same one, and the fact that they share the same name is purely coincidental. :)