The sun was setting when Xena reached the house.

She was coming back from her swim, but the short-lived relaxation was gone the minute she'd stepped out of the water, the anxiety overcoming her, getting stronger with every next moment she was away from him.

Stepping onto the porch, she turned back before entering the house, just for a moment, to take in the atmosphere of her favorite time of day, if only just briefly, before returning to reality.

It had been eight days since his fever started, and he'd been delirious for most of it.

She needed to be strong for both of them, for herself and for him, but it was much easier to be strong when in action than it was when passively stuck in waiting; and she was frustrated, as she had the feeling that she was stuck doing nothing to move things forward, but at the same time she knew she couldn't leave his side if her life depended on it. The thought of losing him was giving her cold shivers.

She knew it was serious; she saw it in both Pelagia's and Gabrielle's eyes. Not having much experience with influenza herself, she could only relate to what she saw when the girls had it, and it was not nearly as dramatic as his case; his fever hadn't dropped in days, he refused to eat, and when he coughed, he was almost spitting his lungs out.

She had to make him eat at least. She was forcing endless amounts of liquids into him but the body couldn't fight the infection if it wasn't properly nourished. He would eat a piece of cheese every now and then, but refused most other food, saying it made him sick when he tried to chew on it.

Determined, she entered the kitchen. They needed an alternative way of feeding, and she had an idea. There was a good chance it would make him sick anyway but she was pretty sure it was going to turn out otherwise.

It took her a while; to cut up a serving of today's dinner, put it into a mug, softening it with a bit of hot water, grinding it into a pulp, then adding more water to make the consistency drinkable.

Satisfied with the final result, she picked up the mug, and made a mistake of taking a closer look at the contents; it already looked like it had just left the stomach. Oh yeah, Ares was going to love it. She chuckled; this was going to be good.

The mug in her hands, she headed to their room; it was what she called it since he fell ill and she had decided to keep him here, closer to food, water and medicaments. Yesterday, she'd brought in an extra bed for herself so they could sleep together comfortably.

She entered the room, walking up to the bed slowly. He was asleep.

Putting the mug on the bedside table, she picked up the chamber pot and headed out.

Coming back with a clean chamber pot, she placed it next to the bed. She sat down at his side and brushed her thumb against his forehead, sticky and burning.

She didn't want to wake him yet; but before snuggling up next to him for a while, she first went to lock the door, for privacy. Adults would usually knock, but Agatha would often come here looking for Ares — because, yes, apart from Gabrielle and Pelagia, all the women of this household were crazy about him — and Agatha had once walked in on them when they were about to take snuggling to the next level, so she was now mindful about keeping the door locked when they were in bed together.

Slowly, she unhooked the chakram and placed it on the bedside table next to her bed, then removed the scabbard, boots and leathers.

He was hot and sweaty and the bedsheets were stale; she decided that once she fed him, she would move him to her bed and change his sheets. But for now, she snuggled up tight to his side, letting his body burn her. She kissed him on the cheek softly and closed her eyes, listening to the heavy breath leaving his nostrils evenly, but with audible effort.

She put her left arm across his chest, and stroked the side of his head. She smiled hearing the purr of contentment.

He turned left till he was facing her and seized her waist, pulling her close to him, kissing her forehead, making her hum. His hand stroked up and down her back and then down, past her lower back, and resting on her buttock, giving it a slight squeeze.

"Lock the door," he whispered against her cheek, his voice sleepy, thick with need.

"I did," she whispered back, kissing his forehead before rolling to her left side, turning her back to him, feeling his hands roam from her hips up to her chest when she rolled her underpants down her thighs.

"Oh gods… yes," he breathed, sheathing himself in her slowly, her lower abdomen cramping with need for him. She reached behind her with her right hand, letting it brush through his hair, giving him unobstructed access to touch where he wanted.

"Feeling better?" she panted, her eyes closed.

"Are you kidding? It's the only reason I'm still alive..."

"I'll have to make sure you get a proper dosage, then…"

"You'd have to stay here forever."

"I will," she blurted, high on how being with him made her feel.

"It turns me on when you say things like that…"

She bit her lip, not to blurt out that it had the same effect on her.

"Sit on me," he ordered, panting. When she straddled him and made a move to take off her shift over her head, he stopped her. "Leave it," he breathed, rolling the garment down to her waist. "Gods, you're so damn beautiful…" he whispered, gripping her hips. "Come here, put your tits in my face."

His thickness inside her and his fervent demands were making her pelvic region physically heavy, like she was about to melt into him completely. Drunk with pleasure, she leaned down, filling his mouth with her breasts, letting him seize her hips and ride her at the pace he wanted.

She was going to have to tell him.

Not now, later, maybe tomorrow, although the heat of the moment was making it very hard not to say it now.

Then, pulling away from her chest, his lips swollen, eyes hazy with fever and need, drilling into hers, he opened his mouth and shattered the rest of any leftover self-control that she still had.

"I love you," he breathed, his voice and those words and that impossible softness in his eyes sending her over the edge.

Her vision clouding with tears, she blinked, looking him in the eye. "I think I'm pregnant…" she uttered as her release was starting to paralyze her, before she lost her breath and collapsed, clinging to him.

She felt his fingers sink into the skin of her back with such force that she winced, and he buried his face in her neck and growled so loud she worried that he was suffocating; she made a move to check but his steel grip on her tightened yet more, and he didn't let go until he was finally spent, long moments later.

She instantly took his face in her hands, listening to his breath. He was red in the face, gasping for air, coughing. She made a move to get off him but he gripped her hips roughly, painfully, and held her in place.

"If you were trying to kill me, you almost did…" he breathed with labor, glaring at her with misty, glossy eyes.

"For a moment there, I was scared I did," she leaned down on his chest, giving him a brief kiss on the nose before resting her cheek on the burning skin under his collarbone, breathing, letting the surge of emotions fade. She felt his hands on her back, pushing her closer onto him, his lips kissing her forehead. He had held her this way many times before, but this one felt different, as if there was some new tenderness to it, and it made her eyes suddenly very watery.

"I knew it, I could tell you looked different," he uttered, his hands gliding up and down her back.

"How do you even know about this stuff?"

"I don't know, my sister being a Goddess of Love and Procreation?"

She smiled against his chest, sniffling.

"Xena, ever since I saw you with… ever since the kids are here, I couldn't stop thinking about it…" he panted, his breath hot against her forehead.

She tried to shake the sudden, unwanted memory of how he'd tried to get her to give him a child as legacy, in return for helping to save Eve. As much as the current situation was different, this child would still be an heir to the God of War — and very soon, if her plan to get ambrosia worked. It suddenly felt like she was trapped with no way out, suffocating.

He lifted her face in his hands until their eyes met. His eyes were serious, concerned, so loving, melting all her resentment right away.

"Xena… if you are pregnant, I need to take care of both of you now. I need to find ambrosia."

She looked down, a slight twitch in her jaw. She moved away from him to sit against the headrest, and he didn't stop her this time. "Don't worry, I'm on it," she said wryly.

He frowned in utter confusion. "What do you mean?"

She took a slow breath before answering, suddenly angry with herself.

She shouldn't get all bitchy about it now, it was her idea to get him ambrosia in the first place; besides, she had long known it would come to this sooner or later, so maybe — just maybe — she should have thought about it before being a damn idiot and falling in love with his temporary, mortal self.

Closing her eyes, she tried to gradually deepen her shallow breath. She had to be mindful to not fall back into the resentment she had used to feel for him for years, and it was so very easy to slip back into it, gods, too easy, with triggers around every corner. She didn't want it. She wanted them to be good for as long as possible, and for that purpose the old grudges had to be kept at bay.

"Xena, what do you mean you're on it?" He repeated the question, confused, impatient.

"I decided to get ambrosia for you."

"Oh, thanks for including me in the decision-making process…"

"What?"

"I mean, it's nice of you and all, but I think I should know about it, don't you think?"

She frowned, stunned. What an ungrateful son of a bitch… "There's nothing to discuss, Ares, your mortality is becoming too big of a risk; you're still on the verge of dying of damn flu, for once," she stated with impatient annoyance.

"Okay, so you wanna get me ambrosia but you're mad; why, because I want it too?"

She smirked, but then, on a second thought — yes, it actually irked her that he was so eager to get his godhood back; it more than irked her, it hurt on some deep level, but she didn't want to get into it now, not when she tried his best to be civil with him.

She sighed in exasperation. "Ares, what do you want me to say? That I can't wait for you to be a god again? You know where I stand on this."

"I know but I still don't get it, some of it yes, but the rest of it—"

"Oh, gods here we go again…"

"So, what, you're just gonna keep sulking about it like that? 'Cause if you are, I'd rather just have the damn flu kill me, 'cause I'm fed up with this, seriously."

"Well in that case, maybe it's time to come to terms with it and split while we're still civil with each other," she said, her pride and pent-up resentment getting the better of her. His eyes darkened with fury, and there was silence.

When he finally spoke he was calm, in a very disturbing way. "You have no idea how fucking fed up I am with the constant not being good enough for you… first because I was a god, now because suddenly I'm too much of a mortal to have around, and tomorrow you're gonna hate me because you'll make me a god again. Can you see my point here, Xena? 'Cause I don't think you can. And honestly, I don't know how much more of this I can take," he finished, a cutting edge to his calm voice sending a chill down her spine.

She furrowed her brows, taking in his words, feeling a lump in her throat. He was right, she didn't realize how it was from his perspective, she was just seeing her own.

"Well, when you put it this way-"

"When I put it this way? I don't put it this way — it is this way for me, Xena — and I had to endure your hatred towards me for years, so if you're gonna go and hate me—"

She closed her eyes, grunting with exasperation. "…hate you? I love you, you damn idiot!"

The realization of what she'd just said slowly sinking in, stunned, she slowly turned her head to look at him. He was sitting with his head against the headrest, his eyes closed; a barely visible wet trail trickled from the corner of his lid.

Pulled in like a magnet, she crawled over, straddling him, cradling his face in her hands, her lips pressing onto his forehead, his lid, and the salty wet trail underneath; her own tears falling when she felt his arms wrap around her waist, his face pressing into her neck almost hysterically. She encased his head in her arms, resting her cheek on the softness of his hair, and she felt free, so free that, no matter what was ahead, she was ready for it, for both of them, for the three of them.

"I love you," she whispered against his forehead, kissing the sweaty skin there, listening to the sound of her voice saying those words so calmly, and realizing how good it felt to say them, how much it had suffocated her to keep them in.

He broke their embrace to look at her. His shiny gaze meeting hers, his breath as shallow as hers, he wiped her wet cheek with his thumb, which only caused another tear of hers to fall on it.

Taking her face in his hands, blinking rapidly, he sniffled, licking his upper lip briefly and exhaling with his mouth open, his brows furrowing. "I love you so damn much," he uttered in between sniffles, bringing her face to his until their foreheads pressed together.

At that very moment, there was a loud knock on the door.

They both froze for a second, her face in his hands, his eyes anticipating her next move. She needed to feel him, even if whoever was on the other side of the door kept knocking forever; she needed him now, more than anything. Her lips met his in a tender but impatient kiss, and she removed the thoroughly soaked sheet from between them; and for those next several moments, nothing else mattered but him.

It was already dark when she opened her eyes.

The sheets definitely needed changing, but it was hard to let go of him; somehow, again, she couldn't shake the feeling that it might be one of their last moments like this. Then, she remembered the food — it was why she'd come here in the first place.

He purred in protest, entrapping her in his arms when she wanted to move away.

"Ares, we're so sticky we're gonna get stuck for good if I don't change the sheets now."

"So, what's the catch?" he asked, and she knew the corner of his lip twitched playfully.

She shook her head, rolling her eyes. "I can see you're much better now, how about we wash the sheets together?"

"This is what your pussy does to me, baby."

"That's all good but to fight the illness you need to eat, too."

"Sit on my face and I will…" he uttered in a thick voice, making her core muscles respond instantly.

Rolling her eyes, she bit her lip, trying not to take him up on his offer before feeding him proper dinner.

"Take the mug," she ordered, pointing her chin at his bedside table. She stood up and walked to the window to light two of the three candles; the third one already burned out. Walking back to bed, she saw him inspect the contents of the mug and waited, her lip twitching with amusement, knowing what the reaction was going to be.

"Xena… please tell me you didn't make it…"

She rolled her eyes. "I only mixed what Pelagia cooked."

"It doesn't look even one bit edible."

"Don't look, just drink."

"No way."

"Ares, I'm tired already… please don't make it harder than it is…"

He didn't say anything; the grumpy, puppy-eyed look on his face disarming her to pieces, she pursed her lips in disapproval to conceal it.

"I'm only doing it for you," he announced, giving up.

"No, you're doing it for yourself, so you don't fucking die."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. You'll see I'm gonna be sick."

"Got that covered," she informed curtly, pointing to the empty chamber pot by the bed.

Ares laughed, shaking his head. "You really are something else, you know that?"

"Drink," she glared at him, suppressing a smile, the depth of her feelings for him scaring her; she'd go to Hell and back to keep him alive. "Good boy," she praised him playfully after he emptied the mug, the grimace on his face priceless, the chamber pot remaining empty. "Now get your ass to the other bed so I can change these."

"I love it when you get all housewifey-naggy like that..."

"Oh, you've seen nothing yet…"

"Ouch! Alright, I'm moving, I'm moving!"

"Good," she said emphatically, grabbing a pile of sheets.

Ares adjusted the pillow under his head, watching her candlelit silhouette disappear in the doorway, and it was all so dreamlike, surreal, like, as if he was delirious from all the fever.

He couldn't say he didn't miss his old life; he did. But the new life with her in it, having her in it like he never could before, having her unlock those hidden features he hadn't known were even there, it was just — he wanted this, needed this, just this, only this.

He didn't make it to compose himself before she came back with fresh sheets, but he wasn't desperate to, not anymore. This was the effect she had on him, and he wasn't ashamed of it anymore, he wanted this, this honesty, it felt good, felt so liberating. He wanted to tell her all this.

When she sat down by his side, her skin had that unearthly coppery golden glow in the candlelight; more beautiful than he had ever seen her. She was touching his forehead, his cheek, wiping it with her thumb, her soft touch on his face making him shut his eyes. He caught her hand in his and held it against his cheek, but the words remained stuck in his throat.

"How're you feeling?" she asked. Her voice was quiet and so unusually soft, like the ambiance of the room.

His eyes still closed, he let out a sigh. "Like I've never felt before," he said, stroking up and down her thigh lazily.

"That makes two of us," she said, and he opened his eyes to see her lip curled up at their inside joke, like he knew it would be.

"Come here, you," he smiled back at her, and pulled on her waist to move her closer to him. "I like the sound of the two of us," he said, and his hand slid onto her belly, making her close her eyes from the wave of emotion it stirred. "The three of us even more…" he added, and she opened her eyes to look at him.

He was gazing into her eyes, as if probing, making her realize that he was apprehensive about it. Was he worried she didn't want it? Her heart sank. She did have her reservations and misgivings, but — gods, she wanted it, way more than she should. He had to know, she had to reassure him.

But she didn't know what to say, and so she just covered his hand with hers, pressing it against her belly.

"I need you alive and healthy for this."

"I swear I'll eat everything from now on," he promised solemnly, kissing her palm tenderly. "Even if you cook it," he added, making her jerk her hand away and make a move to smack him on the head, which he dodged, only to get punches over his arms and chest. "It was a joke, I was kidding, I was just kidding!". And then, when she stopped, he decided to clarify. "I was just kidding, baby — you know your cooking is inedible." And then, the whole Tartarus broke loose.

He loved to see her laugh like that.