Chapter 10

Xena tossed and turned in her sleep, but no position offered her comfort.

So the god of Eli had given her this body. Why was it incomplete? Why was it not truly hers? Why had she been in need of it in the first place, instead of going on like every other soul? This new knowledge only gave way to more questions. Could she believe that he had done it out of love? He did owe her a lot, after giving her a daughter marked by the prophesy of the twilight, after allowing her daughter to grow up into violence under Ares' guidance. Why had this all-powerful god not intervened then? She had always wondered. No, instead Xena herself had been the tool Eli used to turn Eve into his little pet. It had required a miracle, she admitted, but it was her love that this god had shown Eve. Recalling Eve made her angrier. Even after she had won her daughter over Eve had never been truly hers. Eve had belonged to Eli, and traveled without her mother, afraid of bringing such a symbol of violence to accompany her message of love.

And yet, she believed him when he said he could offer her redemption. After all, she had seen his god give Eve the redemption she needed to live again. She had felt the power radiating from him, though repressed as she knew it was. He had paid the ultimate price. Not for her alone, she didn't believe that for a second, but for anyone who was willing to accept it. Could she? It was starting to look as though she would have no choice if she ever wanted to face life again, and as tempting as it was to spend 400 more years tormenting herself over what she had done, she knew she couldn't last forever that way, and Xena was a survivor. In the end, she would have to make the most reasonable choice. Without life she would never truly be free, and without freedom she would never have life. Eli was the only ticket out of her own head, and she knew this. She even believed it.

So, finally, she prayed. She had prayed before… for a miracle, for guidance. This time she prayed for more than that. It was for a release from the torment in which she locked herself up, for freedom from the guilt that smothered her soul. She knew in her heart that she could never be a good enough person to ever meet Gabrielle again eye to eye, but she needed the forgiveness simply to allow her to live with herself, the permission to move on with her life without her beloved soul mate. The thought of it tore at her soul, but there was no fighting reason. She needed forgiveness to survive, but in small measure. She wouldn't allow herself the grace to receive true happiness again.

So pray she did, and life seeped back into her. Slowly her body stopped shaking with fever, and her lips began to move to the words her soul was crying out. Her eyes fluttered open. She could feel the love of Eli surrounding her, and it emboldened her to allow him to forgive her, to allow herself to be forgiven, to let a small part of him into her heart. With redemption came new life, and for the first time she looked into the eyes of her devoted caregiver.

His eyes were deep brown and lined with his personal history. She saw happiness there, as well as misery and grief. At the moment he was creasing wrinkles of concern.

"How are you, my dear?" He asked her gently, looking into her eyes.

"Great, thanks." She rasped. Either she had been shouting in her sleep or it was from lack of use that her voice was worn and hoarse.

"Eat." He said, holding up a spoon of more wheat porridge. She tasted a bit. They had mixed it with cream, which was surprising since all the people she had ever met in Chin was obsessed with tea, and spurned all dairy products as being the food of barbarians. Also it wasn't rice, but wheat. Where was she? Had things really changed so much in 400 years? It was possible.

She ate obediently.

When she had finished the bowl, the old man pushed her gently back onto the porcelain pillow. She didn't resist. A great weight had been lifted from her chest, and as she slept she meditated, simply existing with a clear mind and an exhausted soul.