Chapter Five

Xena had thought Joxer the whiniest travelling companion she'd ever experienced, followed closely by Gabrielle. She loved them, but if the going were tough, they would let her know how much they didn't like it. She hadn't reckoned on travelling with a God become mortal. If it wasn't his feet, or his sides stitching up, he was thirsty, or he'd bitch about them not taking the horse. They'd travelled through the wood towards Pelennos, much to Ares' chagrin.

"I thought we were headed for Minoeta!" he panted.

"After we've found Mallecium's camp," she replied.

Mallecium was not in eyeshot of Pelennos, which didn't surprise Xena in the slightest. He wasn't just going to march in. He hadn't acquired his reputation and ill-gotten gains through being stupid and arrogant. Of course, this brought up the question of 'where to next?'

"There's a hill beyond the meadow west of here," said Xena, stopping at the turn in the road and gazing beyond. "I'll give you any money Mallecium is on the other side of that."

"I'll give you any money if I don't have to climb that fucking hill," rasped Ares, leaning on his knees with propped arms.

"Just quit yer bitchin'," growled Xena. "I swear to Zeus... Joxer makes less noise than you on the road. We're never going to keep our cover unless you shut the Tartarus up."

Ares narrowed his eyes, clenching and unclenching his fists as he glared at Xena. "You owe me SUCH a good time..."

"Yeah right," she said. "Keep your eyes peeled for scouts, and for the sake of Olympus - try not to crush too much beneath your feet. We want to leave as little evidence of our passing as possible."

"Don't whine, don't step on sticks, don't complain..." grumbled Ares. "Am I allowed to breathe?"

"Quietly," purred Xena, a playful twinkle in her eye.

"Very funny."

"Who said I was joking?"

Shaking her head, Xena stalked on through the brush. Ares grunted, ducking low-lying branches and taking pains not to break or crush debris and brush ahead. He sighed.

"You know, I forget about this part of warfare." He looked up at Xena, who glanced over her shoulder at him with an inquiring brow. "The spying, the grub-work. I usually wait somewhere for some little guy to come back after doing exactly what we're doing now."

"Yeah, well, you're not exactly suited to this job," she said.

"No disagreement from me," he growled. "Still… you're a God, you think you know everything… then you realise you don't."

"Humbling?"

Ares shook his head, looking into the distance. "Irritating. It means I'm not paying attention."

An amused, gentle expression crossed Xena's face, and it was clear in her voice. "You're probably just distracted by the bigger picture," she said. "You can't exactly run entire wars if you're sweating the little things."

"Are you actually acknowledging the fact that I have an important job to do?" Ares gasped, putting a hand to his ample chest in a parody of shock.

"Loathed as I am to admit it," she drawled.

"The point you're missing, Xena, is that I'm a God. Gods are supposed to know everything—" He was waving his arms about as he said this, and he trailed to a stop. Xena was standing in front of him, gazing ahead. He immediately saw what had captured her attention. He panted, pointing. "Well, well! This is Mallecium's big army, eh?"

Xena curled a lip, planting her hands on her hips. "I guess."

It wasn't a huge camp. Nestled in a clearing near the edge of the forest was Mallecium's camp. The men were staying in the underbrush of the forest. A large, ornate tent was in the middle of the camp, a low-burning bonfire in front of it. This seemed to be Mallecium's command tent. Behind it was a large, long tent which Xena could only assume was for the horses. Next to Mallecium's tent was another long tent, and by the sounds coming from it, and the traffic of men, it was the mess tent. A smaller, heavily guarded tent was on the other side of the bonfire clearing. Leaning to Ares, she tilted her head towards it.

"What do you think that little tent is?"

"Arms, weapons," said Ares quickly.

She nodded. "That's what I figured." She winced, peering at the camp. "Small."

"Two lookout towers, hastily built. About fifteen guards scattered about, twenty by the bonfire. Can't have much more than that, judging by the size of the mess."

"Enough to take every town on this stretch of country," said Xena darkly. She shook her head. "He's clever, Ares."

"Don't I know it," muttered Ares with relish. Xena glared at him, and he cleared his throat sheepishly.

"Thoughts?"

"He's been slowly heading towards Corinth. If he wants to take on any bigger towns, he's going to have to increase the size of his army – significantly." Winking an eye judiciously at the camp, he tilted his head. "I have a feeling that rather than razing these towns to the ground, he's going to be taking them over for food and recruits."

Tilting her head with him, peering at the camp, she stroked her jaw. "He's not ready to attack. No one is alert. He's waiting for something."

"You, probably," said Ares. "He has to know you're coming."

"I was hoping that my arrival would be unnoticed."

"Oh, I'm sure it is," he said. "I said he knew you were coming – not that you were here."

Folding her arms, she turned and smirked at Ares. "Why… you know just what to say to a girl."

He winked at her, muscles bulging in his upper arms as he planted his hands on his hips. With a final glance at the camp, Xena trod carefully back into the undergrowth towards Minoeta, Ares following. They trudged on for some time, their panting the only sound between them. Finally, Xena spoke.

"Well… I've got good news and bad news," she announced.

"Oh?"

"Good news is, it seems we have some time to kill."

"The bad news?"

"We'll be spending it laying low and getting the villagers ready-"

"Oh no!" Ares grabbed Xena by the arm, turning her around. "Nuh-uh."

She shot him a deadly glare. "Excuse me?"

He leant on a tree, pointing at her with his free hand. "I'm taking the trouble to spend time with you and you think you're going to grub it with a bunch of peasants and teach them how to beat people with sticks and get themselves killed?"

Her eyes narrowed at him and her fists clenched. "Well what do you suggest?"

"I suggest that you get changed into something a little less iconic so we can both go to the tavern, have a few ales and maybe have a few rounds of arm-wrestling to see who wins now that I'm mortal." Ares eyes burned with firm decision. He wasn't suggesting anything – he was letting her know what he wanted to do.

"Are you crazy?" hissed Xena. "There's a warlord's army waiting there to take over the villages!"

"Remember what I said, Xena. He's not razing these puppies to the ground. He's harvesting people and food. To do that he has to make himself weak. He has to spread a small number of soldiers over a larger territory. When he does that, we can take him on. He'll be isolated from his forces. We can also take on his commanders. After we've polished off those sissies, the soldiers will scatter. But I think you know that." He stepped forward, touching her chin. "I'm not letting you ignore me, Xena. Not today."

"I'm not ignoring you," she said, evenly. "I'm doing my job."

Ares took a long breath in, folding his arms in front of him. "I just gave you the best advice you're ever gonna get. You know it. Are you going to make your life needlessly more difficult than it has to be, just to spite me?"

Groaning, Xena rubbed her eyelids. His logic was inescapable. She'd had the same thoughts, the same things had occurred to her – of course they had! She would have done anything to avoid being alone with Ares right now. Would she endanger people's lives, taking the more foolish path? No. Blowing a sigh through her puffed cheeks, she turned about and stomped through the undergrowth once more. Ares said nothing, smirking with satisfaction at Xena.

~~*~~

Darkness had settled about them, Artemis' half moon shining its pale blue light down on Lake Hyrmine, turning it to obsidian. Lute music drifted through the air from the camp on the lake's sandy shore, golden light stretching out from a small campfire. Gabrielle and Joxer were sitting comfortably in the warmth of the fire that kept the cool evening at bay. Joxer was thoroughly preoccupied with the lute, stopping every now and again to tune it. It surprised Gabrielle that Joxer actually seemed to have an ear for notes. He looked like he knew exactly what he was doing with the instrument and seeing this was a new experience for her. He never seemed to know what to do with anything. Joxer showing aptitude for something had an unforeseen effect on her, which she stuffed away into the very recesses of her mind. She wasn't going to be impressed with him. That funny little warm spot was going to stay little and funny and quaint. No growing, no changing, nothing.

She wasn't sure of what to do while she waited for the fish to cook. The scarce root vegetables they had in the saddle bags were chopped and boiling in a pot with some herbs and a pinch of sea salt. There was little else to do. She couldn't bring herself to take out her scrolls, afraid that she might write about Joxer again. Everything seemed to be about him lately and she found it very unsettling.

The music stopped, so she looked to see what he was doing. He was eyeing the fret, looking down it lengthways. She tilted her head, laughing a little.

"Joxer… what are you doing?"

He didn't look at her, just closed an eye and peered at the fret of the lute. A long whistle fell from his lips and he shook his head.

"Amazing. Not a twist or buckle. This thing is perfect!" He cradled the lute and gazed at it with awe. Somewhat lost for something to say, as Joxer hadn't been playing on pretence, she shrugged. The bastard actually had her at an advantage.

"Why are you looking for a twist or a buckle?"

"It'd ruin the intonation," said Joxer, still looking at the lute. Glancing up, he noticed that her face was blank. "Uhm, gee… how do I explain? The – when I put my fingers on these bits here, see?" He plucked a string in demonstration. "If it's twisted or uneven, then the notes aren't right. Get it?"

Looking down to her hands Gabrielle smiled, to her chagrin, in a self-deprecating manner. Joxer had never seen her pull that face before.

"Not really," she said. "I've never been very musical."

Joxer shook his head, waving a hand at the lute and having his turn at being self-deprecating. "It's easy, really, if an idiot like me can-"

"No," said Gabrielle, more firmly than she meant. She cleared her throat, cheeks pink. "What I mean is, just because you understand it… doesn't mean it's necessarily easy. I don't get it. I look at that stick end of that thing-"

"-the neck," murmured Joxer almost compulsively.

"Yeah, that, and I just see strings and bumps. I'd never be able to get a sound out of it. I can't even hear the difference in the notes properly. You have a talent, Joxer. Accept it."

He shrugged modestly and looked away, plucking the lute nervously. Without his helmet or armour he looked very different. The awkward metal wasn't there to weigh his shoulders down. They were broader than she remembered, his arms not quite so scrawny. He was no Hercules, but he had long, supple muscles which suited a man of music. In fact, when he wasn't trying so hard, he was rather fetching.

Gabrielle felt her face flush as her mind wandered into that thought. She was thinking too much, clearly.

"So, what are you going to do once you've learnt to defend yourself?" she asked suddenly, hoping that he'd say something thoroughly stupid and snap her back to reality.

Narrowing his eyes and giving a thin-lipped playful smile, he nodded. "Help people." It was a silly expression, but there was an earnest determination in there too that she knew she wasn't meant to see.

"Oh Gods," chuckled Gabrielle, shaking her head. She wanted to make fun of him, she was ready to but for some bizarre reason, she just wasn't feeling it.

The self-assured expression slipped off Joxer's face and he frowned, the wounded puppy about his eyes. "What?"

"Nothing," she said, waving a hand. "I was just thinking… Like I don't worry about you enough!"

He dipped his head, pressing his lips together in a funny little smile. It was a new expression for her to see on his face and it was decidedly attractive. He finally lifted his head, dark eyes glittering, a gentle smile lifting the corners of his crooked mouth.

"I didn't think you worried about me at all," he said, fighting to look at ease.

She sighed in exasperation. "Didn't I already admit that I did at the inn yesterday?"

He tilted his head thoughtfully, a narrow-eyed look of contemplation taking him. "Nnno, if I remember right, you said you worried about me in a certain situation – fighting I assumed. There wasn't any talk of worrying about me at length." He glanced at her sidelong, a little cheeky curl to his lips.

"See, Joxer? This is why I never tell you anything like this!" she said. "You always turn it around and make a big deal out of it-"

"Hey, I'm not the one making a big deal out of it," he chuckled. He seemed to be in a satyr of a mood, probably buoyed by her unintentional confession.

"By the Gods, you're infuriating!" shot Gabrielle, getting up to her feet and stomping over to Argo nearby.

A moment of silence stretched out into minutes, the jovial mood of before dissipated. She was thankful because she knew this, it was comfortable. Joxer being an ass was normal, expected.

"I'm sorry, Gab," he called out after her, lifting a hand. "I was being a jerk."

"Yes," she snapped. He wasn't supposed to say that.

"Will... will you come back?"

Gabrielle had been fiddling with the buckles of Argo's saddle. As he spoke, her indignation went from 'righteous' to 'mild'. Shaking her head, she sighed.

"Sure." Turning around, she rubbed her brow, nervously of all things. Why was she nervous around Joxer? Why did the air suddenly feel so thick? "Let's just forget about it and enjoy the rest of the evening, okay?"

"Sounds good to me," said Joxer, nodding back at her.

Trudging over to Ares' gifts, Gabrielle pulled out the amphora of wine, holding it up and peering at the top of it. With care, she pulled the cork from the top of the amphora and had a sniff. She wrinkled her nose at Joxer.

"Do you think red wine goes with fish?"

"No," said Joxer, a knowing lop-sided smirk on his face.

"Ever?"

"I only remember it working once, and that's on the rare occasion my Dad brought back swordfish from one of his trips to Crete." He stood up, walking over to the wine and having a long, deep sniff. "Ah… see, this is a rich wine, too dark and fruity for trout." Tilting the amphora, he had a sip. He tilted his head, working the wine about in his mouth before swallowing. Pursing his lips in a funny pout, he nodded. "It's good!"

"It is?"

"The best red wine I've ever tasted." He looked to her flatly. "But it still doesn't go with the fish."

She gazed at him, bemused. "How do you even know this stuff?"

He shrugged, scratching his ear. "You know, you live in a city, you learn about this sort of thing." She still looked disbelieving. "Mom made sure me and my brothers knew this stuff so we could mix in Athens high society. She wanted to escape the working classes with Dad, and have us boys marry rich society girls." He shook his head with a dark smirk. "Like that worked."

Not wanting to sway into Joxer's unfortunate family history, Gabrielle hoisted the amphora. "So, how do you properly taste wine?"

Joxer laughed. "Ah, nothing doing. We don't have the right cups. Just take a sip… woah! Careful! Not too much!"

Gabrielle had tilted the amphora back and had taken a slightly larger mouthful than she'd planned.

"Don't gulp it down!" he said quickly. "Just – hold it on your tongue … now roll it."

She followed his instructions, her eyes widening as the new tastes flowered on her tongue. She'd had reasonably good wine before, but nothing as good as what was in her mouth at that moment. Joxer smiled, lifting his brows, nodding.

"Huh? Huh?!"

She nodded back at him, swallowing the wine and grinning. "It's amazing!"

"So, Potedeians don't do wine tasting?" asked Joxer.

"Of course we do – we're not savages!"

"I didn't mean-" He pinched the bridge of his nose and picked his next words carefully. "You just don't seem to know how it's done…"

"…Oh. Well, I wasn't really allowed to drink at home, I was too young. By the time I was old enough I'd already run away with Xena." She looked a little sheepish. "And the Gods know what kind of beverages we drink on the road."

"Yeah, don't they ever," said Joxer with a smirk. He had another sip of the wine, holding it in his mouth and tapping a foot happily. "Tell you what – if we're ever in Athens, I'll take you to a proper wine-tasting party. You'll love it."

"Okay," she said, shrugging in acquiescence. She was feeling strangely mellow, relaxation slipping through her veins. She heard Joxer sniff the air noisily and turning, she also sniffed. A dent was in her brow as she frowned.

"That's an interesting smell," murmured Joxer thoughtfully.

"The fish!" gasped Gabrielle, "Oh, Hades' balls!" She dove for the campfire, knocking Joxer sideways.

He made an ungainly stagger before falling forward into the fire with a pained gurgle.

"JOXER!" she cried, yanking him out of the coals quickly.

Standing him up, she slapped his front, beating off any coals that might have fallen into his vest or pants. He turned and raced towards the water, limping, his hands reaching for his right knee. He'd already pulled off his boot when he made it to the water.

"Oh Joxer, Joxer, I'm so sorry!"

She knelt next to him at the water's edge, scooping up water and pouring it on his knee. In the dim moonlight she could only just see a slight discolouration of his skin.

"It's not bad," he said, "The skin is probably a little pink. Hey – you might want to save our dinner."

Dropping her forehead to his shoulder a moment, Gabrielle swore and ran off to the camp. It wasn't long before Gabrielle was back. He looked to her.

"Is the dinner okay?" he asked. She nodded. "Good. Right. Ow! Ah-how!"

"I thought you said it wasn't so bad!"

He looked sheepish and pained. "I didn't want to make you feel guilty."

She rubbed her eyelids tiredly, sitting down in the sand next to him.

"So how badly is the fish-"

"On the crispy side," she said, shortly. "But edible, I think." Joxer nodded, sloshing his knee in the cool fresh water. "Don't stop doing that. I'll get our dinner."

"You're-" He stopped, gulping. "You're going to eat your dinner in the dark, here, with me?"

She shrugged. "Why not? Besides, it's my fault you're hurt." When she returned she had a tin plate in each hand and the amphora of wine wedged under her arm. "Here you go. Have some wine and you won't feel a thing."

Joxer smiled up at her thankfully as she handed him the plate of food and offered him the amphora.

"I should let you knock me into fires more often if this is the sort of treatment I get…"

"I'll have you know, Joxer," she said, setting her plate of fish and vegetables on her knee and digging in with a wooden spoon, "That my sympathies are not so easily twisted by guilt."

"No?"

"No," she said, shaking her head.

"Are you sure?" he asked, leaning back and pointing to his knee. "Cause my knee is really hurting… maybe you can rub some salve into it or somethin'…"

"Nice try, Cupid, but salve is actually bad for burns." She waved a finger at the water. "Keep splashing it if it's sore."

"Okay," he sighed, scuffing forward in the sand and settling his knee in the water.

Gabrielle gazed at him a moment, then looked back to her meal, shaking her head.

"What?"

"Hmm?"

"You're shaking your head at me," he said, pointing around his spoon. He took a mouthful of fish, watching her. "What is it?"

Gabrielle shook her head again, shrugging. "It's just – I really don't get you. Sometimes I think I do, that I know all there is to know, but you always seem to find a way to surprise me."

"This is a good thing, right?"

She let out a quick sigh. "It's frustrating."

He did that funny pout, then, the boyish, confused look that might slip to a heart-breaking look of hurt any moment if she said the wrong thing. "Why?"

"I don't know," she said. She looked to the tiny lapping waves of the lake shore, the glinting silver reflections of the moonlight. How could she put it into words? And why did she even bring it up with him? She was skidding into frightening territory. "Sometimes you're capable of being very wise, and I don't know if it's an accident or whether you're hiding something of yourself from me."

Joxer dipped his head, poking his vegetables with the spoon. "Don't worry, it's a mystery to me too."

"And – there you go! You never give yourself any credit either," she said, looking up into the sky. "Not really. Except when it's about stupid things, or when you're trying to convince yourself that you're some huge hero."

"Look, I don't know either!" shot Joxer, frustration and hurt creeping into his tones. He shook his head, putting his plate aside. "I'm sorry I can't be the perfect person all the time. I don't know how to be. But you know what? I'm not hiding anything, I never am. It's all there to see. I couldn't hide stuff if I tried! And believe me, I do try, it doesn't work!"

Gabrielle felt the hot splash of regret in her stomach, and she squirmed. "I – I didn't mean that Joxer…"

"I just get the feeling that there's bits of me you like and bits of me you don't."

"That's – that's not true at all," she sighed, tentatively putting her hand on his arm. "I only want to understand why you act out and then beat yourself up – why no middle ground?"

He shrugged, looking up into the sky sadly. "When I was growing up, all I'd ever get from my Dad was a smack in the chops and a whole lot of bruises. Mom was… well. When all you get is abuse, the moment you get a little something different – a smile, a handshake, the word 'friend' directed at you – you go nuts. I didn't know I could be someone's friend. I didn't know anyone would want to be. All I had was the idea to be a warlord, cause that was the way my parents would be proud of me and I wouldn't be a disappointment." He gulped, looking at her. "I act stupid, I know. I just get so happy to be around people who don't hate me. An' – no one ever taught me how to act nice."

She swallowed, a sudden surge of something warm and full making her feel light-headed.

"No one needed to," she said quietly.

His eyes glinted happily as he looked to her, a thankful curl to his smile. With his hair scruffy and a warm blush to his cheeks, she thought he looked undeniably handsome. Something desirable in him shone through and instead of terrifying her as it always did, it made her tingle right to her knee-caps.

Madness, this is madness, she thought.

Clearing her throat, she looked down to the amphora of wine, grabbing it and holding it up.

"Let's drink some more of this and enjoy ourselves."

"Okay," he said, grinning and wrapping his hand around the neck of the amphora.

Their fingers tangled, silence falling between them. His grin drifted, fear in his eyes. Fear and hope. He met her gaze, her eyes gleaming with something between disbelief and need. Clearing his throat, Joxer looked away, dipping his head. Gabrielle let go of the amphora, watching him quietly take a mouthful of the heady wine. He seemed different to her in that moment, whether he changed or her perception of him had, she wasn't sure.

~~*~~