Till death do us part
(c) 2023 by ihatemilk
_DECEMBER 2015
#
He didn't want to go to Greece in December, but if this was supposed to be their first vacation, it couldn't be anywhere else.
His idea to travel by traditional means of transport met with her stark bewilderment and uncurbed enthusiasm – oh, she more than liked it – unlike him – and so much that she didn't seem to suspect there might be other reasons for it than to make her happy – at least she didn't let it show. It was going to come up eventually – later, not now – now he needed a break – from this, from his job, from all the mess with Julia, from everything. And he really needed to save his powers now – for emergencies only; he'd already stopped teleporting himself to places when in the city, for the sake of Uber – she didn't know – and the worst part was having to hide it from her, knowing how much she'd love it if she knew. Anyway, it was a damn pain in the ass. Yes, he already did things the mortal way for her – but things he enjoyed, like showering; wasting time stuck in traffic didn't exactly make the list.
So, once he'd personally heard it from their doctor that it was safe for her to fly – she was due in 10 weeks – they were free to start arguing about the trip details.
Not wasting any time, they started right after leaving the doctor's office, and continued on in Uber, and all throughout their walk in the park – he'd chosen Mushrif, Dubai's greenest park, on purpose, in foolish hope of distracting her with all the paths and trees and greenery – a rare sight in the desert – but that was before he remembered how much she'd enjoyed Central Park – and so, the conversation went on exactly as it would have if they'd lounged on their living room sofa – only worse, since she was cranky with all the sweat streaming down her face.
"We'll fly directly anyway," he repeated himself once they stopped to sit down on a neatly trimmed lawn, in a shadow cast by the palm tree of her choice – of course – there were several of them, identical, but it was vital that they chose the one she decided – it was funny, really, how the powerplay between them would sometimes manifest itself in the stupidest of things. Although, in the end, more often than not, he'd just follow her lead; somehow, he'd never ceased to find secret enjoyment in letting her boss him around.
"You can't fly directly to Amphipolis," she said as he moved to help her sit down. She accepted the gesture, but not without reluctance; the echo of the times when she'd been stupidly adamant about doing everything by herself.
He decided to try one more time, although it was already a lost cause. "I thought we agreed on Thebes."
"You agreed on Thebes."
"Xena…" he dropped his head on his chest with a loud exhale. "So – you're telling me you wanna fly to the other side of the globe to spend a week in some airbnb shed in the middle of nowhere, or did I miss something?"
"See, you're good at listening if you put your mind to it."
"Please tell me you're joking…"
"I want to spend several days in my hometown, what's so strange about that?"
"We'll be in the capital of the ancient world and you'd rather sit it out locked in some shithole off the beaten track – how does that make any sense? I just don't get it…"
"We can spend a day in Athens once we land."
"Why would we land in Athens if you wanna go to Amphipolis?"
"The airport's in Athens, Ares," she rolled her eyes.
"Oh, no, no, no, no – you've gotta be kidding me – you're not expecting me to fly commercial lines?"
"You said we're taking a plane."
"Yeah, as in – a private jet, not some damn public transport – are you for real?"
"Oh gods…" she raised her eyebrows. "Ares… have you ever flown commercial?"
"I'm sorry – do I look like I fly commercial to you?"
"Emirates have a decent business class, you'll be fine."
"Xena, why do you have to make it so hard…"
"Ok, so this is settled. Now about accommodation—"
"So, we're seriously going to Amphipolis…?"
"Ares – you can leave me there and go wherever you want—"
"I'm not going anywhere without you, for fuck's sake!"
"Gods, you're gonna give me a headache…" she sighed with exasperation. "I need to lay down."
He embraced her, pulling her towards him. "Put your head on my lap," he helped her settle herself against his legs. "Comfy?"
"Mm…" she sighed, closing her eyes. "So good…"
His eyes roamed over her face; her skin had a healthy glow about it, but she did look fatigued – and they hadn't even walked for that long.
"You sure you're good to travel? You get tired fast."
"I have you to carry me…" the corner of her mouth curled up in a smile.
He furrowed his brows, a sudden wave of warmth sweeping over his chest. He suddenly wanted to kiss her so badly. "You have me," he echoed the words, touching the side of her face, brushing her chin with his thumb. She had him; more than she realized. And instead of setting the alarms off in his head, it made him want to give her more, all of it, all of him. He'd never belonged to anyone; never wanted to; and never craved it as much as he did now.
"What are you thinking?" she asked, leaning into his palm.
"That we're gonna take a damn commercial flight to go to damn Greece to spend a whole damn week in a shack…" he sighed, biting down a grin.
She stirred, her eyes snapping open. "We are?" she asked, frowning in disbelief.
He swiped the damp hair off her forehead, tracing his finger along the moist skin. "We are."
He was drowning in those eyes; glossy, her face relaxed, lips parting in something unspoken that filled him with that warmth again.
And then she pulled him down for a kiss; and he dimly thought that, with the way he was feeling now, he could as well spend the whole week at the airport and not complain once.
#
Three days later, when they arrived at the address in Amphipolis, the vision of spending a week at the airport didn't sound that bad anymore. This was the last time he let her choose accommodation – that was for certain.
It was quite a déjà vu – apart from the fact that it was freezing cold, though the day was sunny – and okay, the house wasn't run-down, just shabby, but no holes in the roof – for now – and no chickens running around – but the whole vibe gave him goosebumps with how much it felt like that time when she'd left him here in their other lifetime – to smell his mortality and shovel shit. As a god, he came and went; sometimes he wouldn't visit her for months – but when they'd said their goodbyes right here, back then, when he was mortal, when he'd realized he might as well never see her again – it was almost nauseating – or maybe it was all the ale he'd kept pouring into himself – but he just knew he didn't enjoy the memory.
Little did he know that this was still nothing, compared to how this trip was going to unfold.
The cottage they were staying at was in the far outskirts of the town, completely secluded, like her grandparents' farm, so they hiked quite a bit, across the surrounding meadows, forests, and streams. Strangely, she didn't get tired as fast as she did in Dubai. Maybe the heat wore her down faster.
"So, you do like nature, after all," he teased when they collapsed on the grass by the stream, breathless after the crazy pace she'd set.
"I never said I didn't. I just like it wild and untamed."
"That's kinda how I like you."
"Do you? I thought you liked my domesticated self more," she teased back.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he raised his eyebrows, tensing his jaw not to grin.
Then, they walked to the town.
Even though the place looked nothing like it had two thousand years ago, it turned out to be heavy with memories. He instantly sensed her pensive aura, and kept glancing at her, waiting for what he knew would unavoidably come up, sooner or later; a random memory of one of his transgressions that this place had been the arena for back in the day; and there had been a few – edging her to kill her mother probably the number one on her list.
It had actually been a while since they'd argued about the past.
"Oh gods…" she squeezed his hand, stopping him in his spot.
They were looking at a two-story, whitish house with a red roof and tall, vintage windows; the ground floor's walls looked like made of stone, as did the surrounding fence.
Then, it dawned on him.
"Your mother's inn..." he said, feeling her nails sink into his skin. There goes avoiding strong emotions…
"The oak is still here, look…" she gestured to some huge tree to the right. "I wonder if the tombs survived…"
He let out a loud sigh. This was going to be a grim walk down memory lane, and she was already worked up. He knew where this was going if she was now to see her brother's tomb; and he wasn't looking forward to it. Gods damn, he came here to relax, not have her cry again.
He stepped behind her, sliding his hands around her waist, gripping the hems of her overcoat. "You sure about this?"
"What?"
"Xena, you've spent days of your life at this tomb—"
"Are you serious?" she stepped out of his embrace, turning to face him, her face twisting in a grimace.
"I'm just worried about you… you shouldn't get emotional like this, it's bad for the baby."
"You're not worried about me, you're worried about your child," she snorted, with such contempt that he froze.
Where the fuck did this come from? He held his breath, feeling the blood rushing through his veins. He should bite his tongue and ignore her, say nothing, just say nothing.
"And what the fuck is wrong with me being worried about my child, huh?"
He clenched his fists, his blood boiling; he had tried his best to be patient with her, but this – this was just fucking unfair.
And she said nothing. Didn't even spare him a look. Just walked away. He fought to keep the words in his mouth; he should calm down before going after her. A part of him wanted to fuck it and just leave her there; let her look for all the fucking tombs in the whole town, for all he cared.
"I can't do it, Xena."
She stopped.
"I can't do it anymore. I've been walking on damn eggshells around you for weeks, but if you're gonna—"
"Walking on eggshells?" she grimaced, turning around to face him. "Is that what it takes for you to be civil?"
"Being civil when you're acting like a spoiled bitch – yes, you can say it's been a challenge."
"When I'm what…?" she furrowed her brows, blinking, the color tainting her cheeks.
He gritted his teeth, his head pulsating, his temples about to burst. If it had been hard to keep it together before, it looked hopeless now.
Before he realized it, he snapped himself out of there.
#
He found himself standing in front of the gray, wooden door of their cottage.
Ridiculous, he smirked, realizing he teleported himself outside to use the door to enter; a habit from since they'd started living together. He stared at the simple brass handle for a while, before feeling it's coldness under his palm.
He stepped inside and looked around; it wasn't much warmer here, but it wasn't half that bad, this place. A bit small.
There was a decently sized stone fireplace staring at him from the opposite wall; it brought another memory from that accursed time they'd first come to her grandparents' farmhouse when he'd been mortal; the way she looked when approaching the house; consumed with such childish excitement as he'd never seen her. He'd been mortified with the place, naturally, especially when they'd gotten inside and he only waited for the roof to collapse on their heads – which didn't happen until next morning – and she was so damn happy when she saw the fireplace – she ran up to it, her face flushed; and he continued to express his discontentment, but that glowing face of hers – he would always remember it.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he snapped his fingers and the room lit up with a warm, orange glow, crackling sounds filling the cold silence. He threw himself onto the utterly tasteless, flowery, shabby couch – gods, what an abomination – and drifted away, consumed by the view of his favorite element. Fire; it was incomparable, really; no wonder mortals had always been so hypnotized by it.
But not even five minutes passed before his thoughts drifted back her; he couldn't, he was restless. He snapped a portal open and smirked; found her damn tomb, of course she had. Her mouth was moving but he didn't tune in; something told him it was a bad idea to listen. But when he saw the tears streaming down her face, his chest tightened. Fuck it, fuck his pride, he couldn't stay here when she was out there in this state.
He materialized himself in the crypt, several feet behind her.
She didn't even look at him.
"You have no right to be here," her cold voice slashed the silence.
"What…?"
"You have his blood on your hands; Cortese was your warlord."
He closed his eyes. This was impossible. It was so absurd that if he hadn't known any better, he'd have thought she was just messing with him.
With a snap of his fingers, he was back in the cottage, on the couch, opening a portal; not on her this time.
With another snap of his fingers, he was gone.
He didn't know why he did that, but before he realized it, it was too late.
He found himself in central London.
#