Chapter 1

They all sat around one of the small tables in the common room of the clubhouse. David absently turned the smoldering cigar between his fingers as he stared thoughtfully into the fresh glass before him. His right hand was wrapped in a proper bandage now, and the sting of that injury only served to confirm that he was awake.

Xena lounged against the back of the chair, a bottle of beer in her hand, and her clear blue eyes studying him intently. It seemed that she was seeking the correct way to broach a subject, but at the same time, was reluctant to do so.

Gabrielle also watched her husband carefully. While the emotional turmoil seemed to have finally worn itself out, she could still sense something within the man before her. It was a pain, buried beneath the surface like a wound that wanted to fester.

David set the cigar in the ash tray and bushed his long hair back with a sweep of his hand. He looked at the two of them and sighed.

"You two need to understand something," he said finally. "I had finally gotten over losing the two of you. It took damn near two years, but I had almost convinced myself that it had all been some kind of wild dream, or something."

"But then you found Angelica," Xena said evenly. "And she was identical to Gabrielle in every way."

David looked over at her with a hint of steel in his eyes.

The momentary storm settled and he shrugged. "Call it rationalization, if you like."

Xena shook her head. "No it wasn't."

"Xena," Gabrielle sighed.

"No," the Warrior Princess continued. She smiled. "You have to realize something." She looked back at David "We went back to Jerry's Place a few times after that night you came running out to her car. All Jerry and the others could say, when they spoke to us at all, was that they hadn't seen you as alive as you were when you came running out of the place after us. And then, when I pulled you over that night, you were pretty steamed at me for preventing Gabrielle," She paused. "Angelica from coming back to see you."

"You remember all that?" David asked in surprise.

"We remember everything," Gabrielle said with a smile.

"So," David began, but his words seemed to fail.

"Who we were," Xena said slowly. "And who we are now are all in here." She tapped her temple.

"But how?" David asked. "The ritual I set up for us tonight didn't have anything to do with this. It was a seeking spell that I put together, not a summoning."

At that question, Xena shifted uncomfortably a bit. "That was my fault."

At that statement, both David and Gabrielle looked over at her in surprise.

"How?" Gabrielle asked.

David's question was more specific. "What did you do?"

"Remember when I was fifteen?" Xena explained. It was the first time she had referred her past with them, and in his mind, David took it as another small piece of confirmation that his life in that period had been real. "Just after I got you out of that gully?"

David smiled in spite of himself. "I remember."

"After I got my Chakram back," Xena explained. "And I mentioned the drink at Jerry's."

Dawning crossed David's face and he sat back smiling. "You had a link to this era."

Xena nodded.

Gabrielle looked at the two of them. "I don't understand."

"That flash of memory," David explained. "Was her link to this time, this incarnation of herself."

"When you came in contact with me, while we were in the vortex," Xena continued. "You kind of got pulled along for the ride."

Now it was David's turn to raise a skeptical eyebrow. "Kind of?" He chuckled. "You two have been thick as thieves for the better part of two millennia." He pointed at the two of them in turn. "If you were going to do this, you sure as Hell weren't going to do it without bringing your soul mate along."

Xena shrugged. "I wasn't sure it would work. If it had, I was planning on convincing you to do the ritual again and try and bring Gabrielle back. I didn't think you'd have had an issue with that."

"Wait a minute," Gabrielle interjected. "If the purpose of that spell wasn't to bring the two of us here, then what was it for?"

"All I wanted to do," David explained. "Was track down the being that visited the three of us tonight. Whoever, or whatever it was had to have been pretty strong, or pretty desperate, to attempt a projection of that magnitude. I didn't have any intention of creating a conduit for the two of you to jump forward like this."

"And did you?" Gabrielle asked. "Did you find out who or what it was?"

David smiled and looked across the table at Xena.

"Did I ever…."

The few torches in the sconces fizzled and popped in the dank air. The slimy moisture coated the stone walls in a thin sheen, like gray blood, and shadows danced and flickered in the feeble light.

She lay in a dirty pile of old straw, scooped into a mound to provide some cushion. Her clothes were filthy and her hair hung in matted strings over her face as she sat staring blankly through the bars of the cell at the prisoner across from her.

Judging by the foul odor and the fact that the figure of the old man hadn't moved for nearly a day, she assumed he had finally died.

"Why couldn't that have been me," she thought helplessly.

She hadn't seen a soul for nearly three days now. No food, no water, nothing. She had begun to wonder if the guards had merely decided to forget the few prisoners here, and let them rot.

Her dull eye scanned her surroundings again, like they had so many times over the past months. How long had she been shut away from the sunlight? She couldn't remember anymore. Her entire universe had compressed to these three small unyielding walls and the corroded bars of the door.

Only the night before – had it been night? Only then had she had a small glimpse of what freedom was floating through a void and finding herself standing in a small, cozy hallway. The dwelling had been constructed in a way that was unfamiliar, but the smooth wood floor and the pristine white walls had spoken to a warmth that she couldn't comprehend. At the base of the steps, she could see the paneled room below decorated with soft furniture, shelves, a low table, and a large rectangular object that she could not identify.

Seated in the shadows, on one of those chairs was the figure of a man, his fingers absently pulling at the whiskers of his goatee, and his eyes locked forward, but inward in contemplation.

She had never in her existence asked for aid from one of 'them', but her father no longer heard her. Her own powers were gone. And her will was failing.

"Can you help me?" she begged.

The man froze. His eyes cleared as he snapped back to reality, and he looked up towards her in mild surprise.

"Ang?" he asked quietly. "Are you alright?"

"He can see me!" Her mind screamed in relief. "Please! Help me!"

There was a jolting sensation, and she felt herself pulled inexorably back. Back towards the darkness, towards the stench, towards the forgotten Hell to which she had been consigned.

"No!" Her mind screamed desperately. "Gods, no! Don't send me back there!"

Her own world crashed down upon her with painful reality as she felt the boot in her ribs again. Looking up, she could see the open cell door, and the figure of the Athenian Guard standing over her. His hand was on his sword hilt, and his foot was coming back towards her again.

She grunted and rolled over, too weak to even attempt to crawl for the relative freedom of the open cell door.

"This one's still alive," he said with a sneer.

A second figure leaned in. "Not for much longer, by the look of her."

"Do we want to bother moving her?" the first guard asked.

The second guard shrugged. "Why bother. If she isn't dead when they start tearing this building down, she will be when the roof falls in." He smiled wickedly.

The two men exited the cell and drew the door closed with a nail biting screech and a clank.

"Don't worry about it," The first guard said to her. "It'll all be over in a couple of days."

He kicked a few pebbles and dirt into the cell at her and turned away.

On the way out, they removed the last of the flickering torches. She watched as the shadows of the guards and the last of her light vanished up the long, narrow steps, and then there was a thunderous boom as the door shut, sealing her in absolute blackness.

The terror that accompanied it fed enough fire in her for her to scream. They emerged as weak impotent sounds that vanished almost as soon as they left her lips. Then she collapsed in a heap on the filthy stone.

When she woke up again, she wasn't sure that she had. The inky darkness was absolute and only the memory of the cell walls and door conveyed any sense of confinement.

She sat up and looked about, not sure why she even bothered. Still there was something in her mind that told her she was not alone in this horrible blackness.

"Who's there?" she croaked.

"My, my," A soft male voice echoed around her. "Look how the mighty have fallen."

A soft blue illumination appeared somewhere before her, driving the darkness back and revealing the ominous stone walls again. In a fright, she backed herself into a corner, hugging her knees to her chest. Her eyes went wide with terror.

The blue light flared up and resolved itself into the shape of a tall figure with long dark hair and deep, thoughtful brown eyes. He was young, in his thirties, with a wicked scar criss crossing his left eye. He wore a long dark coat or cloak, dark pants, boots and a pale shirt. Fingerless gloves covered his hands, and a silver buckle gleamed from the belt on his waist.

Her eyes widened in recognition. "You!"

David stepped back against the opposite wall and crouched down. One gloved finger stroked the whiskers of his goatee thoughtfully, and he smiled. "Hello, Hope."

"I killed you!" Hope gasped. "I saw you die!"

David nodded and smiled. "Yup, you did."

"But," Hope stammered but her words failed her.

"You ran me through," David said with an air of menace. "Stuck me like a pig and bled me out. And yet, here you are, screaming for help. So, tell me, who do you think really won our little duel?"

"Why are you here?" Hope finally managed to ask.

"You called me," David replied easily. "Nice work, by the way, popping into my house like that. I didn't think you had it left in you."

"That was you?" she asked in amazement.

David shrugged. "So, what do you want?"

Hope's momentary dream of freedom crumbled as she stared at him. He must have read it in her expression because that intolerable smile spread on his face again.

"What? Out? Freedom?" He asked with a chuckle. "And what, pray tell, would you do if you got out of here?"

"I don't know," she replied before she had a chance to think about it.

"If you're considering a reevaluation of your path in life, I wouldn't say it wasn't long overdue," David said sternly. "I would also say that I wouldn't really think you were sincere, so don't even try that approach."

She looked at him, and a touch of the old scorn appeared and then just as quickly it vanished again.

"Let me explain life to you, once," David continued. "Dahok and his religion are dead. His followers are scattered and little more than a nusance. You couldn't reunify them if you wanted to, because you've been cut off from him for the rest of your natural. Besides, someone would probably pick you off before you even got the chance."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you." Hope said with certainty.

His answer surprised her.

"What would be the point?" He said. "I already beat you. Why rub salt in the wound?"

"Beat me?" Hope smiled. "You fell, remember?"

"Yeah," David nodded. "And here's the juicy bit. You took me away from your mother, and your family, here and now. But you know what? I'm still with your mother, and we're living a very happy, very comfortable life where we are. Your step brother and step sister are alive and well, and your mother survived, so, you pretty much blew it on all fronts. You won a small skirmish, sweetie, but you lost the war."

"So you're here to gloat," Hope growled.

"Hey!" David replied sharply. "You killed me, remember? I think I'm entitled."

Then his gaze softened and he let a deep breath out.

"But, that isn't really the reason I came to you," he continued. "Someone called for help, and I was honor bound to answer, because not everyone can."

A grim laugh escaped her cracked lips. "What kind of help can you give me? Can you end my life?"

David shook his head. "Sorry, can't do that."

"Can you get me out of here?" Hope continued.

Again David shook his head. "If you had given me half a chance, when I was around, I would have loved you like a daughter. So would Alex and Xena. Your mother never stopped loving you, in spite of everything you did."

"If you just hadn't listened to that bellowing moron in your head, you might have realized that a long time ago."

"She didn't?" Hope blinked in surprise.

"That was your mom's special gift," David said soberly. "She was able to forgive almost anything. She might have even forgiven you for killing me?"

Hope blinked. Her mind drifted back to a time when she was small, almost frail, in the body of a growing child. She felt soft, reassuring hands stroking her long hair. Even as the coldness of her fathers' voice was repelled by the touch, there was a part of her, the child inside her, that relished that moment. A longing for that gentle sensation cried out from deep inside her soul, now that the tormentous voice of Dahok no longer drove her.

In a sudden flash of understanding, she realized that this simple contact, this comfort was all she desired. She looked up at the apparition before her and saw pity in his eyes.

"Do you truly comprehend how badly you blew it?" he asked her pointedly. "And for what? Absolutely nothing."

"I want to see my mother," she said in a barely audible voice.

David's eyebrow rose in dubious surprise.

"Is that so wrong?" Hope asked suddenly vehement again.

"Considering the few times you tried to kill her," David retorted. "I think you could understand my concern."

She fixed him with as dark a stare as she could, given the circumstances. Unfortunately, he was unimpressed. He merely smiled again and shook his head.

"You're hardly in a position to intimidate anyone, let alone someone like me."

Her eyes fell to the slimy stone floor.

"I don't want to die," she mumbled.

"Sorry?" David said with sudden sharpness. "What was that?"

She looked back up at him. "I don't want to die," she repeated.

"Uh huh," David's gaze went dark. "Let run something past you. Sindis, Yania, Rasten, Antonia, Kitia, Lauron, Salius, Timitus," He recited the names mercilessly.

Each name was like a lash that bit into her soul. She felt a palpable pain with each one. She winced as the recitation continued through countless names from her past. The names continued rolling off his lips like venom. She closed here eyes and tried to shut out his voice and the images that it brought up. Her hands clapped to the sides of her head, trying to stem the flow of names and faces.

"Stop it!" she finally cried out hoarsely.

"Do you think any of them wanted to die, when you killed them?" David asked her.

When she didn't look back up at him, he came forward and knelt before her, his face inches from her head.

"Well?"

She looked up and into his dark eyes and suddenly saw the pain and horror she had wielded so freely, going all the way back to the very first time she killed.

David's fiery gaze softened again and he gently placed a hand against her cheek.

"The bitch of it is," he sighed. "There is so much of your mother in you."

His hand felt warm and comforting and she relaxed, almost reveling in the sensation of a gentle touch. In a flash, she realized what she had thrown away. It was the most despondent moment of her entire existence.

Suddenly, the incarceration, rapes, and torture she had endured in that horrible place were nothing compared to the knowledge of what she had lost.

There was a sudden booming above them and the entire building shuddered. Small pebbles fell from the ceiling, pelting her.

David looked up at the ceiling and nodded. Then his eyes scanned the surrounding cell and he nodded again.

"Looks like the demolition crew is here," he sighed.

Another booming, closer this time, and the debris falling from the ceiling was a bit larger. She felt the ground shaking beneath her as the rumble of falling rubble echoed above her. "I think you're right where you should be."

Tears filled her eyes and she began to weep as something akin to panic set in.

Her hands covered her head and she cowered in the corner, shielding herself from the crushing inevitable onslaught she knew was to come. It was only a matter of time before one of those impacts would send tons of stone down upon her, ending her life and entombing her.

Then something settled around her. Something warm and unfamiliar. She peeked up as she felt strong arms encircling her shoulders. He slid into the corner with her, pulling her to his chest, and shielding her with his ethereal body. She felt him, as a real person, not an apparition.

Her head fell against his chest and she looked in the direction of the crumbling walls.

Another rumble as another section of the structure above fell and she screamed in horror as several of the larger stones across from her cell fell into the cramped corridor. With each thunderous boom, she jumped and cried out.

"It's alright baby," David's voice whispered in her ear. "It's going to be alright."

With each impact, she tried to drive herself deeper into that comforting warmth, as if that would offer some form of protection from the avalanche. Then she heard his voice again, singing a slow, soft, soothing tune, barely audible, like a lullaby.

The corridor across fell in and she saw the body of the old man crushed beneath the rocks with a sickening crunch of pulverized bones.

She drew her knees in tighter and felt his hand avert her eyes, pressing them against his chest. She clawed at his vest with bruised and broken fingers, sobbing, and shut here eyes.

The universe shook suddenly, and she heard booming thunder of rocks around her. Then there was a sudden pause and the sound of distant voices. The world behind her eyelids went red. Dust choked the air from her lungs.

She opened her eyes, blinking against the sudden burst of yellow light. Looking up, she saw a long rough corridor. She was wedged in a small space, surrounded by grating crumbling stone, but she was alive.

The crevice was narrow, small, and seemed to stretch for an eternity. Above her, she could hear hammering as the men continued to dismantle the building above her.

She could cry out for help. Maybe they would hear her, but when she opened her mouth, the dusty air choked her voice, and her cry for help was little more than a coughing wheeze.

Reaching up, her fingers found a handhold, and she squeezed herself into the narrow gap, clawing like an insect towards the light above. The stones around her shifted and groaned as she desperately pulled herself forward.

Sharp edges cut into her arms and legs. It was like forcing her way up the throat of some ancient beast. She felt her blood flowing and the stones cut always deeper into her skin. It shredded the dirty rags covering her body, catching on hooks of stone, as if this prison, even in death, was desperately trying to bring her to the Underworld with it.

She reached forward, always forward, feeling her desperation grow with every shudder as stone above her shifted and moved.

A large piece suddenly fell inward across her outstretched left arm. She saw the impact, felt the bones of her forearm snap. The pain was like a burst of fire, shooting through the extremity and setting her mind alight.

She wailed in horror as the stone rolled against her shoulder, partially blocking the passage.

Suddenly, the tunnel behind her fell in with a crash, and a cloud of dust wafted up the tunnel engulfing her. She felt her lungs burning from lack of clean air, saw the light above fade in a cloud of pale gray.

"No!" her mind wailed. "Not like this! Not this close!"

Hugging her broken arm against her body, she reached out with her good hand and hauled herself through the narrow opening and towards the world of light and air.

The rags clothing her, snagged on the stone and she felt them ripping as she continued clawing upward. Each movement a new exploration in pain and terror.

With a last surge of failing strength she saw the world open around her as she emerged in the dusty sunlight.

She rolled down the gentle pile of rubble, not even feeling the teeth of stone as they jabbed into her back and sides. When she finally came to a halt, she looked up and saw the remains of the prison. The entire outer wall had already been demolished, and only two of the original four towers still stood.

As she watched, one of those towers seemed to slide towards her before it began shatter. The rumble and the dust rushed towards her like a choking brown cloud.

Hope scrambled down a muddy gully and into the stagnant water as the cloud settled over her. Stones rained down around her a she bobbed in the filth, gasping for breath between horrified sobs.

When the cloud began to settle, she saw the massive pile of stones covering her escape route.

The rumble died, revealing the sound of voices approaching from behind the hill of stone.

The panic quickly overrode the horror as the possibility of being caught filled her mind.

She splashed across the mucky water and towards the concealment of nearby rushes.

Stifling a scream as she fell on her broken arm, she saw the outline of several bodies standing at the top of the rubble

"What was that?" A voice said.

"What?" A second replied.

She turned and looked back through the reeds with wide eyes.

"I thought I saw something," The first voice continued. She saw one of the figures point towards her hiding place. "Over there."

Hope held her breath.

"Did you see what it was?" The second voice asked.

The first one shook his head. "Looked like something crawled out of the moat and onto the bank, just there."

The second figure seemed to consider for a moment and then shrugged.

"Old dungeon was full of critters and the like. Chances are it was something like that, running from the ruins." The second one said after a moment that seemed like a small eternity. "Come on. We have stone to move."

The sobs welled up as the figures withdrew. Her face settled against the muddy earth and she knew no more.

It was the burning pain in her broken arm that dragged her back from the darkness of a dreamless sleep. The sun had fallen and the night creatures sang all around her. Slowly, she raised herself up rolled over, her eyes fixing on the myriad of sparkling stars above her. It wasn't until that very moment that she truly realized she was free. She wept again, as much from the pain in her limbs as from that sudden understanding. She was weak, in pain, and weary beyond reason, but she was free.

"I think you're right where you should be."

That statement resonated in her mind with sudden realization. The comforting warmth that had surrounded her as he had knelt next to her and held her, as much to comfort her from her impending doom, as to hold her in precisely the right place for her to gain the opportunity for that escape. He had known how the rock would fall. He might have even exerted some force to shield her from the rock fall.

Even after all that she had done to him. All the pain she had dealt to his family, his home, all the friends that she had taken from him, he had still protected her as a father would. He had given her a second chance.

"I got a weak spot for blondes," his voice broke through her reverie. She turned her head and saw the familiar blue corona as it resolved back into his form. David smiled ruefully. "Call it a character flaw."

"Thank you," she whispered.

His eyebrows rose in mild surprise. "Wow. That actually sounded sincere. Maybe this was the right choice."

She closed her eyes and felt the cool night air fill her lungs. When she looked back at him, his expression was thoughtful.

"Then again," he continued. "Maybe I've only put you in a worse position."

When she only turned her gaze back to the stars above, he went on.

"You have to realize," David explained. "That you succeeded in pissing off a boatload of people. If they find out you're on the outside, you can bet your ass that they'll be gunning for you. And they probably won't be quick or gentle about it if they catch you."

When she didn't respond, he sighed.

"Well," he continued. "At least, I wouldn't hang about here for much longer."

"So tired," she mumbled. Her eyes fluttered even as she winced at the pain in her limb.

"You need to get moving," David suggested.

He saw her eyes close, and when they didn't open after a few seconds, he clapped his hands together loudly.

"Hey!"

Her eyes snapped back open.

"You need to get moving!" There was a fire in his voice that frightened her.

She looked over at him. "I don't have anywhere to go," she finally admitted.

He rose and looked down at her.

"I think you do."

He drew out a small roll of tobacco and set it in his teeth. It smoldered to life and he puffed a few times. The scent of the tobacco settled around her, acrid and sweet at the same time. Then David looked down at a small device wrapped around his wrist and his eyebrows rose.

"Well," he sighed. "I got a thing. Time for me to bolt."

"Don't leave," Hope asked, almost begging. "Please."

"Don't have a choice, sweetie," He replied. "This isn't my home any more. And if I'm gone too long, you're mom will kick my ass when I get back, and make me like it." He smiled.

He stepped over her and began strolling in the direction of the nearby woods.

She struggled to her feet, trying to ignore the pain in her arm.

"But there are so many things I want to know," Hope called after him. "So many things I don't understand."

He turned, walking backwards and grinning like the father of mischief.

"Shit!" he chuckled. "You'll have to learn all that from someone else. I'm probably more screwed in the head than you are.""

He stretched his hands out and shrugged. "If you really want to know, then you know who you need to talk to. If you do see you're mom, tell her that her favorite pig says oink." He raised his hand, gave her a salute that bordered on comical, and then turned and resumed walking.

"Which way should I go?" Hope called after him, suddenly feeling a twinge of desperate fear at the prospect of being abandoned again.

David raised his hand and made a noncommittal gesture. "You got a whole compass to choose from! Pick a point!"

"Wait!" Hope called after him. She moved to follow him, but he strode easily away and finally vanished in a soft blue coronal flash.

She reached the spot and caught the faint scent of his tobacco, but that was all.

"Wait," she whispered despondently. "I'm sorry." The words came from her mouth, but originated from her heart. When she said them, she suddenly understood that she truly was sorry for what she had done to him. "I wanted to tell you I was sorry."

The tumult of emotion crested again and then fell, like a wave.

"I'm sorry."

"Better get moving, kiddo," David's voice seemed to echo from a great distance.

A bone weary smile appeared on her lips as she realized her words had been heard. Perhaps he had even accepted them. The possibility of that seemed to give her some measure of strength.

Cradling her broken arm against her chest and covering her body as best she could with the ragged torn fabric that clothed her. She stumbled off after him and vanished into the woods.

Once she was in the protective concealment of the trees, her fear of discovery lessoned, and with it also went the adrenalin that had kept her alert. She began to feel weak and light headed. She stumbled often and almost tripped several times. Occasionally she would stagger against a tree and reawaken the burning fire in her arm. That would sharpen her senses for a brief time, but the moments of clarity became shorter and shorter the further on she went.

"Must keep going," He mind repeated mechanically. "Must keep going."

Figures began to appear at the periphery of her vision. They were the figures of men, women and children of varying ages, races and colors. All of them seemed to watch her with intent, angry eyes.

Whenever she turned towards them, she instantly recognized them. She knew their names, and she knew where and when she had killed them. They dogged her, never approaching, but always there, like shadowy stalkers. Their voices echoed in her mind, repeating over Andover the litany of names of dead that she had left in her wake, like a trail of blood.

She waved her good hand before her, as if she could wave away the sounds of the countless names that bombarded her mind. Her eyes were turned down at the ground before her feet, and she stumbled and staggered and finally the ground rushed up to meet her as she fell onto the soft, jagged leaves. She forced herself to roll onto her back as the agony of her arm drove her again. Then she lay like a dead thing, driven beyond the realms of human endurance.

It was then that she felt the figures approach, crowding around her like a host of shadowy specters. They all looked down at her with pitiless eyes, covered in blood. Many of them still bore the dismembered bloody injuries she or her followers had inflicted on her, the chorus of names rose to a deafening cacophony in her mind as darkness reached down to enfold her.

"Go away," she tried to cry. "Please go away."

In the haze of her mind, just before the shadows swallowed her completely, she thought she saw another face. This one was new, uninjured, old and wizened with long gray white hair and beard. Steely gray eyes looked down at her in a mixture of surprise and concern.

Feebly she tried to wave him away as well. Was this Death finally coming for her?

"Go away," she tried to cry but only managed to wheeze.

The world bent around her and fell into darkness. From that void, she heard a new sound.

"Just be still, lassie," it said in a soft, accented voice. "Old Ian's going to tend you for a spell now."

Then the shadows engulfed her and the world fell into darkness augmented by wailing voices and dead faces.