She wouldn't
(c) 2024 by ihatemilk
Trailer: What if Ares grew some balls after the Tartarus encounter with Xena (where she had told him the time for them had been and gone) and didn't just give up like a wimp but simply tried again, preferably choosing the circumstances a bit more wisely, and, having done so, screwed up the rest of his life in a slightly different way than we've seen on screen?
Summary: After Xena tells him to get lost when she runs into him in Tartarus, Ares decides to wait for her at the lake passage to catch her on her way out of the Underworld and resume their conversation. But he isn't prepared for the conversation to go where it goes – having acted on impulse, he soon finds himself torn between conflicting loyalties; then, trying to stay calm and take his time to see who will make him a better offer, he falls victim to himself and the unwanted urges that slip out of control.
Author's notes: The story sets off during the episode "God Fearing Child" (XWP Season 5, Episode 12), shortly before Xena goes into labor, right after she leaves the Underworld – and is my way of wrapping up the rest of season 5 and the Twilight of the Gods the way I would've liked it to go down (avoiding Livia and the 25-yr time gap).
Tags: hurt/comfort, angst, romance
Pairing: Xena/Ares
Subtext: My idea of Xena's relationship with Gabrielle is that of sisterhood with no incest included.
Author's take on Xena/Ares relationship: they did have some moments back in the day of Xena's bad-girl phase, but she would always stop herself from going all the way as a matter of pride — and maybe a hint of fear that it might have triggered some unwanted vulnerability in her dark little heart.
Rating: M
Copyright disclaimer: All the characters from the series "Xena: Warrior Princess" belong to the Renaissance Pictures and are only being borrowed for the purpose of letting me mess with them a bit this one time; making no profit from it, just scratching the itch the show itself never did.
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He rubbed his lips together; they were dry from the dust in the air.
Now that he could finally breathe, he inhaled – deeply, slowly, looking up and around the ruins of what didn't resemble his family home anymore; the broken marble, the clouds of grey dust, the thick, solid columns now broken in half; the place he'd never realized he could have any feelings for; the place he used to visit rather reluctantly in the past; back when he was a God of War.
And now, it was gone.
It could be rebuilt, easily even – if there was anyone left to bother. But it was empty.
For the first time in all the eons of his existence on this plane, he saw Olympus completely empty.
So, it happened. He did lose, in the end. His family, his home, his godhood; all of it.
He had nothing to offer her anymore.
He was now just no one; honestly, he wouldn't be surprised if she just left and didn't look back.
But she wouldn't.
No, she wouldn't. Not after the last several weeks, not after what they've been through.
The shore of that damn lake; he knew he shouldn't have gone there.
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The shore of that damn lake.
He wouldn't have gone there if he hadn't gone to damn Tartarus in the first place. But godsdammit, he had to. She was mortal, for fuck's sake – and heavily pregnant – and his father had just launched an army of his immortal guards at her, whom she by some miracle managed to fight off for now, but might not be so lucky the next time – and then, on top of that, she now decided to take a stroll in the Kingdom of the Dead to rob his uncle, Hades – the God of the Underworld – of his most treasured possession, the Helmet of Invisibility – and he'd seen her pull different stunts over the years, but still – she was fucking unbelievable.
He knew his uncle respected Xena, but as of now, as almost every other Olympian, Hades was dead set on killing Xena before she gave birth to the child that, according to the prophecy, would bring about the death of the gods. In fact, Ares should be doing the same – joining his family in their endeavors to preserve their existence – it was only logical – the child being born meant his own death as well. That was what he should be doing, not tailing her like a damn dog.
But it was her.
It would mean killing her.
And she didn't know that, but if he hadn't distracted Hades for a long enough time, she wouldn't be walking out of the Underworld alive as she now was, and with the damn helmet in her hand on top of that.
And now, knowing very well that he would come to regret it sooner or later, he was waiting on the shore of the lake, at the exact spot he knew she would emerge any moment now. How on earth had she figured out this secret passage to the Underworld – was beyond him; that could only be attributed to that list of many skills of hers; he stopped counting long ago.
What was he expecting to gain here – he had no idea, really. But the pull to be here, the need to see her, it was stronger than him, stronger than logic, stronger than reason and common sense altogether. But this time, he was prepared for the talk; back in Tartarus, he wasn't – he'd played it by ear, let her throw him off balance – now, he couldn't afford it – now, he was ready.
Resting his back against the tree behind him, he was about to snap his fingers to materialize himself physically, but, once he saw the bubbles break the perfectly flat surface of the lake, he stopped himself.
She indeed was heavily pregnant; all the layers of clothing she recently wore covered most of what was now clearly visible under a thin, wet shift clinging to her body. And even now, gods, she was the most breathtaking sight he'd ever laid his eyes on; if anything, she was more beautiful than he could ever remember.
Strangely, a pang of uneasiness hit him at the thought that she was about to pick up on his presence.
He wanted to go to her, but seeing what he now saw when she turned sideways stopped him in his tracks.
She was crying. Openly, freely, shaking with sobs, as he'd never seen her.
Fighting off the paralysis that overtook him, he took a few steps towards her. Now she felt his presence, he could see it; her shoulders tensed, her neck stiffened.
"Can't you take a hint?" she wiped her face with her palms, glancing towards where he materialized himself.
He thought he was ready; he was ready – but not for that. Not for seeing her in this state, not for the way it made something stir in his chest. What the hell was wrong with him? He couldn't win with her, really; she'd always fuck with his head one way or another, even if unintentionally.
He was closing the distance between them when her voice slashed the air, stopping him in his spot. "Leave me alone."
And maybe he would have done just that; if her words sounded the way they always did, icy and bitter; maybe he would have. But when they came out as a broken whisper, he couldn't, he lost it. Before he realized it, his heart racing, he was sheltering her in his arms, pushing her head into the crook of his neck, the lump in his throat making it hard to breathe. To his surprise, she didn't shake him off; she just sniffled, and let him hold her; and, for the next while when they stayed like that, it felt like his heart would jump out of his chest.
"Hey…" he pulled back after a while, cradling her face, wiping it with his thumbs.
"Don't," she whispered faintly, her eyelids half-closed; but didn't move away. Her dead son; that had to be why she was shaken up like that. All those years when she'd thought he was in the Elysian Fields, he'd been locked up in Tartarus, just to keep his memories of her; he'd just seen their reunion back in Tartarus – hell, even he was moved by this.
"I don't blame him, really," he smirked. "I would've turned down Elysian Fields too, if I couldn't see your face ever again…"
"Don't do this…"
"Do what?"
"Don't mess with my head now…" she whispered, her eyes closing.
"I'm not—"
"Can't you give me a break even now, for fuck's sake, really?"
"A break from what? From Zeus and Hera hunting you down to kill you?"
"What?" she asked weakly, stepping out of his embrace.
"Oh yeah – believe it or not, you managed to make my parents finally agree on something for once," he couldn't help a grin.
She let out a breath with a gasp, her shoulders sagging. "I'll never make it to be a mother, will I… I was given this child just to lose it like I did my son…" she said, wiping off his amusement in an instant.
He hesitated. He weighed the words. He knew he shouldn't have done, shouldn't have said anything now. But seeing the tears, the pain on her face, hearing her voice break, he couldn't, it just—
"It depends on you. Can you trust me, Xena?"
"Over my dead body…"
"Fine, have it your way," he grabbed her and snapped them out of there.
#
When they materialized in the Halls of War the next moment, he expected a range of reactions – being punched in the face, called names, being run through with a sword – but that she would choose this moment to go into labor – that he didn't expect.
He held her for support, his eyes widening in terror as the clutched onto her belly with a groan that sent a chill up his spine. Scooping her up in his arms, he teleported them to the nearest room with a bed and laid her on it.
"What do I do?"
"Get this off me, now," she cried out, tugging at her overcoat. He removed the outercoat and several layers underneath, leaving just the thin black shift on; gods, she was sweating.
"I'll get Gabrielle," he wiped her forehead, and there was another groan in response.
As much as it would normally pain him to bring the Bard here, right now he did it in a heartbeat.
Feeling that his presence was redundant, he was about to leave – but then, Xena clutched onto his forearm with the force that would break his bones if he was mortal – and he collapsed by her side, brushing the damp hair away from her forehead, watching her face twist in such pain that he felt it in his stomach.
"What can I do?" he kept stroking her head feverishly, panic getting a hold of him with each passing second.
"Ares – get clean rags and two bowls, hot and cold water," Gabrielle said hurriedly, motioning for him to help her pull Xena up to a sitting position.
The next hours were like a never-ending trance. He'd never felt so much awe, horror and amazement at once, and one after the other, interchangeably, until the world was no more and there was only her; her grip on his hand, her nails digging holes in his skin, her screams splitting his head in half – the screams that he'd only heard when he saw people being skinned alive. Gods, he had to give mortal women a credit – he had no idea how humanity managed to last for all those centuries if this was what it took to preserve the species.
"It's a girl," Gabrielle said, placing the bloody, messy, crying little creature on her mother's chest. The moment she laid her eyes on the infant, the way her face welled up with such emotion – it made some strange sensation spread in his chest.
He didn't know when Gabrielle had left, but at some point, he realized they were alone in the room; her, holding the baby to her breast, and him, standing there, unsure whether to stay or leave, caught up in the sudden awkwardness.
Then, she looked up, their eyes met, and he wanted to say something, anything, to break the awkward spell this whole scene had him under, but words got stuck in his throat.
"Thank you…" she said, her eyes softening in a way that trapped the breath in his lungs.
"Call me if you need anything," he managed to utter, to conceal the uneasiness taking him over. He was almost at the door when her voice stopped him.
"Ares… why did you do it? She means your death…"
He clenched his teeth, not moving, not able to say a word. Funny, he'd been asking himself the very same question, and so far, there was no answer that made any sense to him.
"Call me if you need anything," he said, disappearing.
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