AN: :D

Disclaimer: I do not own Xena.

A Londinium that was in the middle of a party.

Even from down the river, the bonfires from inside the fort were visible, turning the sky above red and gold. Laughter and music played, cheers echoed through the night- a festival, perhaps? Or just the Romans celebrating their win over the Britannic people, a win they were sure was complete? Either way, Xena turned in the water and smiled, a cruel, wicked smile that would have sent shudders down the spine of everyone there if they hadn't already been shaking from the water's cold.

They had thought they were safe. They had let their guards down. They would pay for that mistake.

She wasn't worried as they approached, not anymore- the closer they got, the louder the sounds from inside the fort became, quieting their splashing as they approached the riverbanks, overwriting the sound of armor clanking and weapons accidentally smashing into each other as they dragged themselves free of the water. And Xena had been right- guards were light, and those few that were there seemed uninterested in their jobs, staring into the fort instead of out into the danger around it.

It didn't take Xena long to scale the fifteen foot wall, a pair of hand knives her way up- she seemed almost excited by the challenge, the way she smiled when she asked everyone around for their blades. Reaching the top, for a moment there was silence, a flash of silver darting down the length of the wall, and before any of them could react down below, three bodies fell from the top of the wall and landed besides them.

A rope followed after, Xena's face appearing over the side of the wall as she motioned for them to climb, and hurry.

While the men who had come with them from Chin just nodded at Xena in thanks as they crested the wall, well aware of what she could do and how dangerous of an idea it was to cross her, Boadicea's men were awestruck, their eyes wide with fear and their mouths slack from wonder as, the moment they reached the top, they all glanced back down to the bodies that laid beneath them. Gabrielle was the last up, the rest of the party already splintering off into their groups; a few to go take out the rest of the guards, a few to go cause a disturbance, and a few by Xena's side, ready and waiting to go open the gates for the army. Taking Xena's hand to help pull her up the last few feet, Gabrielle leaned against the wall for a minute, pretending to be winded, as Xena whispered her last few orders to the men coming with her. Falling in with the rest of the pack, she took off after the rest of them, all of them silent as they kept to the shadows. Already the sound of people fighting could be heard, meaning their men were doing their job. No sound from the guards, at least not yet, something that could be either bad or good, depending. And they went unnoticed, sliding around tents and the half done buildings, keeping to the shadows and alleys, slowly, ever so slowly, making their way forward.

Gabrielle broke off. It wasn't hard- Xena so focused on what was before them, so sure Gabrielle would be right behind her, she didn't even noticed when Gabrielle just stopped walking and slid into the most complete building, hiding in its empty hall. It wasn't tall, only three stories at most, but it was the tallest one there, and Gabrielle knew. Even Xena had known, had paused for a split second to stare at the building with a hateful gaze before waving them all on- if anywhere, this was where Caesar would be.

It was surprisingly empty; no servants, no guards, just a dark, quiet building. Because of the festival, or whatever the Romans were celebrating, Gabrielle decided as she snuck deeper into the building, sliding her feet and her arms partly outstretched to avoid running into anything. It didn't take too long for her to find the stairs, solidly built even in what must have been semi-rushed construction conditions. Sliding her staff from her back, Gabrielle slowly, ever so slowly, began to walk up the stairs, ready to swing the moment she saw something. Nothing on the second floor, just another empty, barely furnished room, but the third...

A light. The sounds of footsteps. A shuffle of papers. The sounds of someone completely unaware of what was waiting for them just a few feet away. Supposedly.

Her staff at the ready, Gabrielle leapt up those last few stairs, rolling into the room to avoid the sword swing that buried the blade into the wood of the door frame. Lashing out, she managed to catch her opponent across the shins with her staff, sending him stumbling back as he tried to avoid falling forward, right into her path. Grabbing the abandoned sword handle, she wrenched it from the wood and held it before her, the weapon a familiar yet strange weight in her hands from her last life, from when Xena had finally given in and trained her to use it, a weapon she hadn't used in a very long time.

She pointed it at the enemy...and sighed as Brutus stared at her in amazement.

"Where's Caesar?"

For a long moment he didn't respond, his head instead tilted to the side. Studying her, considering her, as if she was some sort of oddity he couldn't understand. Even when she pressed forward a bit, his own sword still raised and pointed directly at him, he said nothing. Only moved from where he had stumbled back to the table, where papers were scattered across the surface. Only when he had moved and taken a sip from his wineskin that he spoke.

"He's gone," Brutus said with a shrug, as if the information was common knowledge. Which, to the Romans, it might have been. "He left weeks ago, back for Rome. The council wanted to see him, make him explain why he wasted so many Roman lives on such a pitiful rock. He won't be back for months, if ever. I am Marcus Junius Brutus, and since you seem to have my sword, would you like to take a seat?" He nodded at one of the few chairs that existed within the room, and only sighed when she shook her head in refusal. "Your choice." Leaning back against the desk, he looked her over once more, nodding.

"You don't hail from Britannia, do you?" He didn't give her a chance to speak, instead shaking his head. "No, you're Greek, aren't you? Strange, for a random Greek woman to be this far west all by herself." As if realizing something, Brutus' eyes lit up- just as the sounds of fighting and Xena's chilling war cry rang through the night. "You're here with Xena, aren't you?"

Gabrielle stiffened, and that was all the confirmation he needed.

"Caesar told me about her," Brutus explained, nodding as if everything finally made sense. "He said she would come, and he was quite disappointed when she didn't show up while he was here. A pity; I know he was looking forward to pitting his wits against hers once more."

Still she didn't reply, her gaze and hand steady as she watched him, waited for him to get to the point.

"You know," he finally said into the near silence- only near, because the sounds of battle were growing louder, drunkenly slurred voices screaming for their weapons, only to turn into screams of pain as they were cut down. "You know who I am, but you're still a mystery to me. Who're you?"

"Why does it matter," Gabrielle asked, taking a few steps forward, raising the sword so it was pressed against his throat. Even though it wasn't Caesar, and Brutus had, overall, been an ally in bringing Caesar down, it was still because of him that she and Xena had ended up in that prison, had ended up on those crosses. It was because of him that Ephiny had died, even if in the other world she had taken his life in revenge for that crime. She didn't trust him as far as Xena couldn't throw him. And with him here, even his men in complete disarray, she didn't trust him to let the win be that easy.

"I would like a name to put with my captor," Brutus said with a shrug. "I'm sure the ransom note will be long winded and well written, they always are, but I'm curious as to who the ransom will be given to. You already have me," he pointed out with a shrug. "There's no harm in me knowing."

"Gabrielle," she finally muttered after a few long moments, searching his face for any sign of something she could use. Any flinch, any sign of an idea, anything she could use against him.

She saw it- a quick glance over her shoulder, a widening of the eyes in surprise, his gaze fixing back on her in an obvious attempt to hide what he had seen. All enough time for her to duck as the soldier that had come up behind her swung, his sword meeting the air where her head had been just a moment before. Rolling towards him, coming up on one knee, she lashed out with her staff, striking him quickly on the side with the one-handed blow, sending him stumbling to the ground. But he lashed out as he fell, his foot catching her in the side of her ribs, her staff clattering to the ground as she caught herself and struggled to breathe.

It only took her a moment to recover, the glancing blow more of a surprise then actually painful, and as he rose she did as well, swinging the sword two handed so the flat met with the side of his skull, sending him sprawling to the ground, prone. Alive, the low moan told her before he went silent, occasionally twitching from the pain, but down. Down and with his sword on the other side of the room, Brutus rising from where he had dived for the weapon with it in his hands.

She charged, sidestepping his first swing, raising her own sword just in time to block a blow from his own. Her eyes darted across him, looking for something she could use to her advantage- an injury, a weakness, an opening that would let her get inside his defenses. She wasn't a swords fighter, no; she had been trained, but had only ever used the sword once in actual battle, and never against someone as well trained as Brutus. She fought with her staff and sais and words and chakram, leaving the swordplay to Xena. She was enough against your average thug, but against a true swordman? She wouldn't last. So she searched for an opening, anything that would give her the advantage, let her win, even for a second, and-

And the sword clattered from her hand as Brutus twirled, the pommel of his sword hitting her wrist, the sharp pain enough to momentarily loosen her grip. She tried to turn with him, tried to pull off one of the moves that Xena had taught her, keeping him in her sight while she tried to regain her weapon, a complex move that included kicking the sword into the air without actually looking at it so she could avoid getting stabbed if he made the attempt. She turned, pivoting so he never once got behind her-

As her foot came down on her staff, the thick wooden pole rolling out from under her, sending her sprawling before him.

"I'm surprised," Brutus said, panting, as he stood over her, sword ready for the kill. "I didn't think you would be that good. Xena must have trained you well. But not well enough." He breathed deeply, trying to regain control of himself, before letting out a long, slow sigh. "It's a shame I have to kill you," Brutus added. "I don't know why..." His words trailed off as he looked at her, really looked at her, "but part of me thinks we could have been friends, in another life. At the very least, allies. And the rest of me will be glad to see you die." He shook his head, giving a little shrug as he shifted, leaning forward so they were closer. His sword pressed against her chest, right over her heart.

"Before I forget," Brutus continued, his voice turning low, "Caesar said something to me before he left. Something I think I should share, since it's for you." Shifting his arm so the point was towards the side, the edge now pressed against her throat, Brutus whispered into Gabrielle's ear the last words Caesar had said to him.

"Your changes mean nothing, playwright. You can't save her."

"Watch me," Gabrielle growled, though she didn't expect an answer. She couldn't expect an answer as Brutus coughed, a spray of red falling from his lips, splattering her cheeks and clothing in blood. He hovered there for a moment, teetering back and forward, wide, confused eyes turning to stare at the knife sticking out of his chest- the knife Gabrielle had pulled from her boot while Brutus had whispered his message into her ear. The knife she had flipped in her hand so the blade was facing towards him, the knife she had plunged into his chest the moment he had finished speaking; the knife she had used to commit her first kill of this life.

He fell onto her, shaking, convulsing, blood spilling from the wound as he grasped at the knife and pulled, opening the hole for the world to see. He tried to return the favor, his hand shaking as he scrambled at the blade, but already he was too weak to hold it, too weak to use it as a weapon, too weak to do anything but claw at Gabrielle with ineffective, shaking hands. Hands Gabrielle easily pushed away as she squirmed her way out from under him, wincing as she did; he had landed on her hard, too quickly for her to move away, and she would have bruises soon enough.

Glancing down, Gabrielle huffed as she saw the state she was in: her neck cut- not seriously, but it was enough- and bleeding from his sword jerking in pain, her top and stomach covered in Brutus' blood; she was a mess. Already a mess, it didn't matter then, did it? Kneeling besides Brutus, Gabrielle once more picked up her knife, playing with it between her fingers as she watched him. It would take a while for him to die, for his lungs to fill and for him to bleed out. A long, cruel death.

Gabrielle was willing to kill, but she wasn't cruel.

"I'll send Caesar soon enough."

Grabbing his hair, she tilted back his head and ran her blade across his throat, barely wincing as the splatter of blood covered her more. It was quicker, kinder this way, she reminded herself as she let him drop, stepping away so the pool of blood wouldn't cover her shoes. Better this, a quicker death, than to sit here and wait.

She paused for a moment, staring at the other Roman who laid at her feet- a young man, younger than herself, barely old enough to not be a child. She knelt down, one hand on his chest, the other on the pulse of his neck...nothing. He didn't breathe, didn't stir; he was gone as well.

She stayed just long enough to get her staff, leaving the bodies behind.

The battle was over by the time she reached the main clearing- the Romans had been drunk, unprepared for an inside attack, and it had been easy for Xena and the others in the party to get the gates open. Once they had been, Boadicea's army had swept the fort, capturing or killing any Roman that stood in their way. Not many had died; she could tell that from the few bodies still laying on the ground, by the few bloody patches of dirt that marked where the dead had already been moved. Most, it seemed, had surrendered to Boadicea.

Men stared as she passed, their eyes wide as they took in the slit on her neck, the covering of gore that crusted her front, the red coated knife she carried loosely in her hand. A few scrambled out of her way, accusations of her being a ghost, a banshee, falling from their lips as she wandered through the fort, making her way towards the gates.

She barely glanced at them, barely heard their words, only just enough for them to register that they weren't a threat. They weren't her goal; they didn't matter. Not now, now when she had to get to Xena. Not when she had to see with her own eyes that Xena was ok, her faith in her mission shaken.

Caesar knew. Caesar knew this world was a repeat, and even though he wasn't here, even though he was nowhere near, she had to see. Had to see that Xena was alright.

So she ignored the men that stared, ignored the whispers and their half-heard prayers, because they weren't a threat. And if they were? She still gripped the knife tightly, still held it as she knew it had to be held, knew exactly where to stab to put an end to any who stood in her way.

She followed the cheering, figuring that was where Xena and Boadicea and most of the army would be, celebrating their win, their largest victory over the Romans yet. The only victory many of them would have seen. She followed the cheers and the cries, slowly working her way through the roads of the fort, finally finding the gates. The gates and the clearing before it, filled with laughing, rejoicing soldiers she had just seen a few hours before, worrying about whether or not tonight was going to be the night they died.

The same people who fell silent as she took her first step into the light. It started slowly, only those closest to her stopping, staring, falling silent and stepping out of her way as she emerged from the gloom. She knew what kind of sight she presented, and a small part of her regretting taking this moment from them when they needed it the most. But the rest of her didn't, couldn't care, because none of them were Xena. Slowly, as if realizing something was wrong, the crowd parted, the merriment and celebration slowly fading as Gabrielle made her way into the center of the throng.

Where Xena, who had been talking just a moment before to Boadicea, caught sight of her. Caught sight of her and went pale, her eyes widening in panic as she took in Gabrielle's cut neck, the blood covering her front, and the knife in her red stained hands.

"Gabrielle!"

Xena didn't wait for the men to move for her; she practically threw them from her path, knocking soldiers into each other as she slid into gaps between bystanders, though soon enough everyone realized what was going on and moved for her, afraid of the whirlwind of elbows and jabbing fingers that came upon those who stood in her way. Soon enough she stood before Gabrielle, her hands shaking as she reached out towards her.

"Gabrielle?" Her voice trembled as she reached for her, her hand shaking as she gently, as if she was afraid her hand would pass right through her, cupped Gabrielle's cheek.

"I'm alright, Xena," Gabrielle said, leaning into the touch. "I'm alive."

"Who did this to you," Xena demanded, her hand reaching down to gently brush against the wound on her neck- a flesh wound, really, even if it did look nasty, something that would easily heal with just a little bit of time. But still, Xena's gaze darkened as she took it in, examining the wound, still a sliver of fear in her eyes as her gaze dropped to the rest of her, taking in the sight it all presented.

A fearful sight right from her nightmares, Gabrielle was sure; Xena had made it clear that losing her was the worst thing that could happen. To see her covered in blood, with a wound that, had it been a slight bit deeper, could have easily been the source? No wonder Xena was shaking, no wonder she was furious, no wonder everything about her seemed ready to kill.

"Brutus," Gabrielle said, giving a little shrug. "Caesar wasn't here; he left a long time ago."

"Where is he," Xena demanded, seeming not to care about the rest of her statement, instead only focusing on the name she had been given. "Where is that rat bastard? I'll kill him, I'll-"

Gabrielle cut her off by pulling away, leaving Xena's hand hovering in the air- her shaking a bit more evident, without something warm and living to remind her that the sight before her was just an illusion, that Gabrielle was alive and fine. Instead of speaking, instead of giving an answer to that question, Gabrielle just held up the long, thin knife she had in her hand, all of the blade up to the hilt still dipped red. It took her a moment, her eyes looking between the knife and Gabrielle's face, but soon enough it hit. Soon enough she understood.

Her face creased into something akin to pity as Xena held out her arms, trying to draw Gabrielle into a hug. Trying to hold her, to try and soothe away some of the pain she thought Gabrielle had to be feeling.

She let her. Gabrielle heard the knife clatter to the ground as she stepped forward, her staff falling besides it as she stepped into Xena's embrace, her head coming to rest on Xena's chest as Xena held her. Held her as tightly as she could, whispered apologizes and promises that it would be ok sounding in her ear as Xena just held her. Held her as Gabrielle closed her eyes and listened, allowing herself, for a moment, to believe her words.

Allowed herself to believe as, finally, the tears began to fall. Not for what she had done, no; Gabrielle had no regrets. But for what she had been, for what she had been able to pretend to be, and what she knew she had to become if she wanted to make sure Xena would survive.