3.

Disclaimer: All characters and general concepts are property of Renaissance Pictures and StudiosUSA. No copyright infringement intended. Yeah.

It took two months. ... I don't have any excuses for you. I'm sorry.

"Ow!"

"Stop moving."

"Stop stabbing my hand!"

"I told you I'm not good at this bandaging thing." Ares smoothed the bandage down over her palm and watched as a blotch of red seeped through the white fabric. Wrapping another layer over it, he darted a glance and a smirk up at her. "Wuss," he said.

He would have quailed under the full blast of her glare, had it not been over such a silly argument. Xena always took everything too seriously. Razing villages, protecting complete strangers, angsting over her past...

"I am this close to strangling you to death—ow!"

"Are you trying to bend the hand that I'm bandaging, knowing that it's injured?" Ares asked, amused.

"I'm right-handed."

He laughed as he tied up the bandage neatly.

"It's mine, isn't it?"

Ares leaned back. "Yeah, the chakram's yours."

She had her cheek resting on a fist, a small frown on her lips. "There's something important about it."

"It was important to you." He shrugged. She looked at him, and a heavy strip of her bangs fell across her eyes. "Your hair's getting really long."

"Yeah, I guess."

She was tossing the chakram from hand to hand as they walked. Every so often, she'd sling it at a tree, where it'd embed itself with a thump, and she'd tug it out as they walked past. Her aim was improving, he realized, watching the weapon bite deep into the wood dead centre at eye level.

The next one ricocheted and flew straight at his face.

There was a flurry of movement, and Xena growled at him, "Why didn't you catch it?"

He gave her his laziest grin and said, "Because I knew you would."

"What if I'd missed?"

"Then I'd haunt you from the grave." He frowned at her hand. "Did you cut yourself again?"

He pulled her off the road while a cart rumbled past them, and they sank into soft mounds of leaves lining the path past their knees. Xena had picked up a handful of the crackly things by the time the cart sputtered to a stop.

"Hey! I'll take you to the next town!"

They looked up at the carter, who waved his hand that was missing three fingers cheerfully.

It wasn't until they were rolling along the rutted path that Xena said cautiously, "I thought people who didn't pass the judgement were exiled and couldn't have contact with townspeople."

The carter grinned lopsidedly and said, "That was the guards' decision, not ours."

"What happened to the guards?"

Another grin, and the carter slid a finger slowly across his throat.

"Oh."

"I'm going to pick up my Uncle. He was exiled, and got to the next town. Sent us a message secretly so as we'd know he was safe. My uncle's an incredible warrior. No swamp was going to kill him!"

"No?"

"My name's Wiglaf, by the way. Yeah, my uncle's always..."

Ares settled in for the ride, since the young man didn't seem likely to hear their responses, anyway.

"So... Now what?"

Ares fingered his coin pouch and grimaced. "We'd better camp out for tonight. I'll find some odd jobs tomorrow, but we might be stuck here for a while."

"Camp out? Again?"

"Unless you have a considerable amount of money secreted—" Ares stopped abruptly when Xena snatched his coin pouch out of his hands and walked off calmly.

"What?" he said when he caught up to her, "you're going to charm your way into the biggest inn in town?"

The smile she flashed him was disconcerting. "An interesting proposition," she said, "but no."

Ares glowered at her retreating back and jogged to catch up when it disappeared through the creaky wooden doors of the inn.

She was standing just inside the door, smiling politely at a man in an apron. To his consternation, she looked up at him, and shuffled demurely until she was halfway behind him, and her hand slipped into his.

"Ah, sir!" The innkeeper said, "Welcome."

They'd attracted a good amount of attention by now.

"Will sir be wanting a room for the night?"

Ares looked to Xena, but she barely met his eyes before turning her head down and leaning into him with a visible blush. "I'm sorry," he said to the innkeeper, "this is all a mistake. We can't afford to spend the night. If you'll excuse us..."

"Those baubles on your arms look like they should be worth a pretty penny," a pleasant voice called from a table in a corner.

Ares stiffened. "I have no intention of selling—"

"Then why not play us for your fare?" Warm brown eyes squinted in a smile, and the man at the table flicked a card in the air, catching it deftly, and slapping it down onto the deck in front of him before wiping his palm in a curve that left the deck evenly fanned out. "You look like a lucky man."

He frowned. "I don't think—"

Xena interrupted him this time. "We'll do it."

"Ah, the beautiful lady is vouching for you, sir."

Ares let himself be led to the table, when Xena reached out and lifted a card. "If you don't mind, I'd like to give it a try," she said. "My husband has been teaching me to play recently. I only hope I won't embarrass him." She flipped the card around absently, revealing a queen of swords.

The smiles on the faces of the men around the table were kind, and Ares was immediately suspicious.

"Ah," Xena said, giving a self-deprecating little chuckle. "I think I win again."

There were groans, hoots of laughter, and a muddle of babbles from the ring of onlookers.

The smiles of the conmen were distinctly strained by now, and Ares could see beads of sweat gathering around the nose of the man who offered to play. The door swung open to a blast of cold air, and he shivered, bumps rising all over his bare chest.

Xena had been doing alright, at first. They'd started out with small stakes, and Xena never seemed to have very good cards. Somehow, though, the others always had worse hands. She'd already won a small amount of money before the man with the pleasant brown eyes raised the stakes and laid down a set of faced cards with an air of sorrow. He'd started to say something to Xena, but stopped short and stared when she revealed her hand. Ares saw a flash of panic before he'd laughed heartily and congratulated her on winning again. His face had grown increasingly grim as she won the next five rounds as well.

He threw down his cards in disgust now. "By Odin!" he said. "I have nothing left to give but my trousers!"

Xena laughed prettily and handed back his shirt, coat, and weapons. "I am not inhuman," she said, "but I do believe I've won enough for at least a week's board?"

The innkeeper swooped in to collect the money on the table. "Oh, yes," he said, "more than enough."

Xena tugged Ares' money pouch from the innkeeper's hands, dropping into it exactly the amount she'd started out with. She tucked it into Ares' hand and gave the innkeeper a dazzling smile. "The rest is yours, for your good service."

"You are very kind, my lady. Very kind. Inga! Show our guests to room four."

A small maid with bright blond hair bobbed a couple of times in front of them before leading the way to the stairs at the back of the bar.

"Gods," one of the card-players was grousing as the trio picked through the pile for their clothing. "She was a professional. Way to pick them, Alvis." Ares turned to see who'd spoken. A scowling redhead, noticing his glance, turned his head away quickly.

The maid had led them to a clean, small room and shut the door behind them by the time Ares trusted his voice.

"Where—How in the world..."

Xena tossed her coat onto the bed with a shrug. "I was cheating."

"You were..." Ares felt very undignified, gaping like a fish.

"If it's any consolation," she said, "they were cheating, too. I was just better at it."

"I didn't think—"

Her eyes were very blue when she looked at him, the bright daylight behind her haloing her hair. "I have many skills," she drawled.

It was very quiet.

Ares sagged onto the bed and brushed a hand over it. "Only one bed again," he murmured.

She moved too quietly, and he jumped when she said, "That shouldn't be a problem, husband sir" directly against his ear so that his entire head vibrated with her dark velvet-y voice.

"You're acting drunk," he said, leaning away and covering his ear.

"It's a rush, that game," she said and, to his utter shock, fucking crawled into his lap.

"What are you doing?"

"What do you think?" she said, and she kissed him. Her mouth was warm, rough from the wind, and he felt a small sting when their teeth clacked, cutting into his lip.

"Wait, wait!" He pushed her back into a sitting position, and she raised an eyebrow at him in that infuriatingly calm and condescending way.

"Yes?"

"This is a really bad idea."

She moved her hips against him in a way that made his eyes actually roll back and a moan rumble through his chest.

Her mouth curved wickedly while he stared.

"Why?" she said, drawing out the word. She leaned down again.

"Xena, stop!"

Her eyes narrowed and seemed to shut down. Pulling away, she put as much distance between them as possible without falling off the bed.

"Tell me why you came to find me, then."

Ares winced. This was the question they'd both been avoiding for the past few weeks.

"You know why," he said.

"No, I don't," she said coldly.

He flopped back onto the bed, covering his eyes with an arm.

"I love you, Xena. I love you more than anything. But this is all wrong. You don't remember me. It's like some sort of sadistic game the Fates are playing, and everything's not real. I want... I want—"

"You want your first time to be perfect or some idealistic shit like that."

Ares laughed shortly. "Not quite the first time."

"You want to be loved back for the real you that I don't remember."

"I..."

"You're an idiot."

He uncovered his eyes to peer up at her, unsure as to how to take that announcement, but she wasn't looking at him now.

"Don't you have to go find a job?" she said detachedly.

He got up hesitantly. "Yeah. I should. I'll be back soon." He paused and said slowly, "Will you—"

"I don't have anywhere else to go," she said irately.

"Sorry."

"I'll be here. Now get out before I throw you out."

They'd reached a tentative peace over the next few days. Xena didn't bring up the incident again. In fact, she didn't talk much about anything. It was as if her taciturn nature was reasserting itself in the lack of any outright opposition on her part.

He'd woken more than once to find her studying him, as if his face held some sort of solution. He'd taken to watching her in return, and they'd ended up spending a distressing amount of time engaged in an informal staring contest. They always ended when she smirked, as if finding whatever it was she was looking for in his eyes, and he looked away, feeling oddly embarrassed.

Then he woke up one night to choking smoke.

Xena was already up, leaning over to shake him with one hand while covering her mouth with the other.

They both dropped to the floor.

He glanced at the door to their chamber with bleary eyes, and turned back to see her shaking her head.

"No good," she shouted over the increasing roar of fire.

He nodded, and pointed at the window.

"We're on the second floor!" she protested even as she followed him in his crouching run.

"Tuck and roll!"

"Are you insane?" Even as she groused, she helped him tear off the shutters.

Outside, through the rolling black smoke, he could see Alvis, the man with the warm brown eyes she'd played against. They were trained on their window while the man idly tossed his deck between his hands. A small smile played on his lips. It quickly faded into a horrified gape when he and Xena launched themselves from the window, and Alvis turned and fled. He might have succeeded had Ares not tackled him and landed a solid punch to his head.

Leaving the conman moaning quietly and nearly catatonic, Ares turned to Xena.

"The wind's too strong! We have to get out of here before the fire spreads too much!"

There was no response.

"Xena!" he yelled.

She was standing still, staring at the fire as if hypnotized. He realized that her lips were moving, and he leaned in until he could hear her.

"It burned," she said.

"What?"

"Cirra burned..."

Oh gods.

"This is not a good time to—" he started, and snapped his head around so quickly that he suffered from whiplash.

She'd heard the scream, too, and she shoved past him, submerging herself fully into the water-trough shoved against a wall. She stood, water streaming from her clothes and her hair plastered to her head.

He grabbed her arm roughly. "Don't! The building's going to collapse any minute now, and—"

She tore from his grip with a scathing glare, and ran into the fire.

Ares swore steadily as he dunked himself in the same water-trough and followed her, giving the conman that was stirring sluggishly a kick to the head in passing. He lay still again.

Ares sifted through the tufts of hair lying on the ground, the ends seared beyond repair.

"I liked your hair," he said mournfully.

"It'll grow back."

"Yeah..." He pushed his fingers into her hair, watching as the short strands slid weightlessly out of his hand. "I turned that card sharp in for arson."

"Mm."

"Xena..." he hesitated. "What do you remember?"

Her eyes fell, and she didn't speak for a while. "I remember... fire. Callisto. Burning, stinking blood... but nothing else."

He tugged her chin up until the ridiculously blue eyes met his. He always hated that self-loathing.

"Xena," he said, "stop it. You saved that girl."

"Leave me alone, Ares."

"No."

"Ares—"

"You saved me, too."

"No, I didn't."

"Not this time."

She watched him sullenly.

"You'll remember," he said.