"Mm," he grunted, feeling a painful snap in his head.

He shook his head until the annoying ticklish feeling in his ear was gone. It left him disoriented, but the frenzy of his mounting climax wiped everything else out for a while.

"You just killed your beloved, Ares, how does it feel?" a somewhat familiar voice hissed in his ear, snapping him out of his post-coital dizziness. He knew that voice. Panic gripped his gut.

"Xena…" he panted, seeing the tangled mess of black hair underneath him. He fervently reached to brush the hair away from her face.

It wasn't a sight he was ready for.

Framed with dried up blood and bruises, but otherwise pale — the only sign of life on her face was fresh blood trickling from her split lower lip.

He felt his chest tighten. No, this couldn't be, he couldn't have… No.

Pulling out, he saw blood. He eyed his palms, the left one was smeared with fresh blood. Panting, he wiped it against his chest, breath hitching in his throat.

Slowly cradling her upper body in his shaky arms, panting, he brushed away the remaining wet strands of hair from her nose and forehead.

"No," he whispered, looking at the still, lifeless body in his arms. His heart was pounding so furiously it hurt. His whole chest hurt. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't do it. He couldn't bear to look at her any longer.

Hardly able to move, he forced himself on all fours and crawled hardly a step away, just to find himself abruptly emptying the contents of his stomach. For a moment he sat there, blinking, trying to gather his thoughts; then, wiping his mouth, he felt the desperate urge to go back. He had to hold her, even if it was tearing him apart, he ached to have her close. Gathering her upper body in his arms, his eyes never leaving her face, he nestled her against his lap. His jaw quivered and a lump in his chest impaired his breathing even further. He just desperately wanted to feel nothing. If he went on feeling what he was feeling, his chest would burst.

#

Alecto raised to her feet.

Both angry and disappointed with herself for her weakness which had put the plan in jeopardy for a moment, but overall satisfied with the job well-done, she smirked and dematerialized from the spot.

She was going to give him a while to dispose of the body or whatever he was going to do.

#

Ares wiped his nose, the tips of his shaky fingers brushing against her cheek gently. There was a wet trail down the side of her face. His fingers traced down and stopped on the side of her neck. He held his breath — there was a pulse, it was barely palpable, but he could swear it was there. He felt cold sweat pour over his forehead as his heartbeat went wild.

"Wake up, Xena, please wake up. I swear I won't ask anything else of you ever again. Just wake up, just please wake the fuck up," he begged quietly, the desperation in his voice sounding strange in his own ears, but he couldn't care less.

She had to wake up. He didn't have a backup plan. What if she didn't, what then? The thought made it even harder to breathe. No, he needed to think rationally. He had his horse here, he would take her to the village downhill, he'd find a doctor.

Jumping to his feet with newfound energy, he rushed to get the horse.

He thought his heart would jump out of his chest when he came back to find her on her side, vomiting on the grassy ground next to her. He could swear this was the happiest any sight had made him feel in forever. He wanted to run to her but sudden dizziness made him swagger. He steadied himself with a deep breath. She was alive. With a sigh of relief, he collapsed down onto his knees by her side.

She was flat on her back again, eyes closed, her chest rising and falling in short breaths. She was alive, breathing.

"Xena…" he hovered over her, his heart pounding so madly it was starting to hurt again. "Look at me, please," he struggled to stop his voice from breaking.

He took her hand in his. It was icy cold; he covered it with both his palms to warm her up. His chest welled up with some unnamed emotion when he felt her fingers wrap around one of his thumbs in a weak squeeze. Never letting go of her hand, he lay down beside her.

"Xena, please. Open your eyes. Please," he begged quietly, desperately, unconsciously pressing her hand against his lips.

"I can't," she whispered weakly, her voice strained and barely audible. "The light…" she gestured to the sky. "The Furies…"

Seeing how it took her such an effort to speak, he decided to interrupt her. "It's okay. We'll talk later. Let's get you out of here first. We'll find a healer, there's a village nearby, we'll take my horse. Let's see if you can sit up."

He lifted himself up off the ground and knelt beside her. He scooped her up gently in his arms, trying to get her into a sitting position, using his chest to support her side, but her body was limp, she could barely hold her head up. There seemed to be a nasty tear on top of her head. He adjusted her in his arms, placing her head against his shoulder.

He cupped her face; she winced as his thumb brushed the split lip. "I'm sorry," he said in a whisper so quiet he barely heard it himself. "I'm sorry." He pressed her cheek to his chest, blinking, suddenly glad she couldn't see him.

Controlling his emotions had never been his strong suit, but now, without his powers, it bordered on impossible. As much as anger and rage were a familiar ground, it was those other emotions that threw him off guard most, some of them he couldn't even name; the ones he'd had rather limited experience with as a god, and surely never to an extent where they flooded him like a wave of fucking tsunami and made his chest hurt or eyes water.

And so now, the frustration of not being able to transport them to warm safety was killing him so much he wanted to roar. Never in his short mortal existence had he wished for his powers more than he did now. He would teleport them away and get her the best medical care and wouldn't leave her side until she was back on her feet. Fuck it, he would even — as much as the very idea made him grimace — bring Gabrielle to be there with her.

Snapping out of his miserable reverie, he set off to prepare for leaving.

#

It was hopeless.

He didn't know where he was going — any more than that it was down towards the village at the foot of the mountain — didn't have money on him, and he was so hungry his stomach was stuck to his spine. It felt so fucked up and stupid to be feeling like this, like a kid who lost his godsdamn parents.

And it wasn't just him. He had her to take care of.

For fuck's sake. He was the God of War — he made war, he didn't tend to its victims.

Especially not to her.

Xena was invincible, for a mortal. It was one of the things he admired about her. She would surely recover from this one, they just needed to get medical help.

Still, it was awkward, seeing her fragile like this; unsettling. He longed for her to recover and get back to her old self. He would hear an earful, and she'd probably kick his ass double this time — before telling him to fuck off — he didn't care, he'd welcome it all, just to not see her like this anymore. Even if, he realized somberly, it was the only way he could hold her in his arms. It was weird, though, the realization that she was depending on him to care for her, feeling her body melted against his — it was a confusing new feeling he didn't yet know what to make of. Somehow, strangely, it made him feel both weak and strong at the same time.

After a while, things were finally starting to look up. Still half-conscious, but she seemed to be gradually regaining her muscle strength to the point she could keep a sitting position and ride, leaning against his chest, and the village didn't seem that far away anymore. Still far enough to let them ride in the silence of nature, but way closer than before.

The silence was broken by distant, barely audible sounds of the hooves.

He froze.

Of course. It was bound to happen; it was just a matter of time. He had to give it to her, though — her timing was fucking impeccable, as usual.

He wondered if she was alone or with Eve, and how things had gone down back at the camp. The Amazons… his troops… somehow, it all felt very distant now, and somewhat surreal, like it happened ages ago, or to somebody else.

Deciding to stop and wait, he pulled at the reigns, mindful to bring the horse to a proper halt, no swinging; he was dizzy enough as it was. Horse-riding was harder now than it had been when he was a god; well, not that it had been a strong skill of him in the first place. This was something Xena was the master of, and he didn't want to feel any more stupid in front of her because of his lousy riding, more than he already did because of everything else.

The sounds of the hooves were getting louder and the source of the noise was slowly coming into sight.

In fact, there was more to it than hooves — there were wheels, and the horse didn't carry a rider at all.

Why would Gabrielle bring a cart? It was like she knew it would come in handy, he snorted, wondering what he was going to tell her.

He squinted until the large hat of the driver came into focus.

And a gray beard, and not a modest one at that. Whoa — now that had to be the biggest makeover Blondie had gotten so far, and she had undergone a few.

Letting out another deep breath, the one of relief this time, he wondered how to proceed.

He wasn't really used to communicating with mortals, not in such circumstances. Leading wars and coaching warlords was one thing, but standing in the middle of nowhere, having to ask strangers for help — now that wasn't something he was prepared for. He glanced down at Xena, asleep in his arms, and felt her stir. The movement was barely palpable, but it made his heart skip a beat, and suddenly — he was at ease — and he knew he could handle anything.

"Hi there," the gray-bearded mortal greeted him, bringing his cart to a halt.

Ares froze, at a loss for words. He never had to greet mortals. "Hi there," he decided to echo the greeting, frowning at how the words sounded awkward and very out of place in his own ears.

"You look like you're in need of medical help, my boy, and fast," the stranger continued, saving Ares from having to come up with what to say, and taking him aback by the fatherly way he was just addressed. If it hadn't been for the lack of bitter contempt, he would almost sound like his father, Zeus.

"It sure looks like she's gonna need some bedrest, and you could use some medical care yourself, from what I see. Well, guess it's your lucky day, kids — come along and follow me. My wife's a doctor, mind you, and the best one in the area. You couldn't have asked for better help. She usually has her hands full, but these couple of days it's been quieter — she'll take good care of both you and your wife," the old man assured jovially, leaving Ares speechless again.

His wife. A wave of some strange warmth washed over his chest. Unconsciously, he found himself wrapping his other arm around her waist in a protective gesture. He blinked hastily — gods, what the fuck was wrong with him? — hoping the old man wouldn't notice. Great, so now random mortals on the road made him cry, what else?

But then, it fully dawned on him how lucky they were. Unbelievable. Running into the old man saved him both time and pain of riding through the village in search of a healer, inevitably having to interact with random mortals.

Okay, now he should finally say something. He knew it should be a thank you. He browsed through his mind in search of a euphemism — he'd had enough of first times for today, he'd never even used those words with Xena come to think of it — well, maybe when she got him his godhood back, though he didn't exactly recall the instance, to be frank.

Suddenly, it occurred to him that he should ask for the guy's name.

Again, as though reading his mind, the stranger offered, "The name's Kyrillos. And you are?"

"Ar—" Ares bit his tongue just in time. "Arkadios."

Arkadios — the best — not bad. He could get used to it. He'd have to remember it now. He should come up with a name for Xena, too.

"Arkadios — a strong name for a strong lad! Very well, let's get going then, would be good to make it back before sunset. Your wife might be more comfortable on the hay up there, I'm a gentle driver, she won't feel a thing," Kyrillos said, gesturing to the cart behind his back.

Ares hesitated. He knew the old man was probably right, but letting Xena out of his arms was out of the question. "We're good, I don't wanna wake her up," said Ares. "Thanks," he added hesitantly after a short pause. There, fuck it. He would have to say it sooner or later anyway, so he might as well just get the humiliation going.

"All good! Off we go, then," the old man said merrily.

And on this very note, they were on the way.

Finally free of the bothersome social interaction, Ares relaxed in the saddle. Things were definitely starting to look up. If to crop off the bigger picture — he was temporarily happy. The warm, sleepy source of his happiness stirred again, so he propped her up a notch in the saddle, getting a catlike purr in response — and this — damn, it was the most beautiful sound ever.

As he couldn't hold her any tighter without suffocating her, he pressed his lips against the side of her head, inhaling deeply, and realizing that this was certainly a spot he had never kissed a woman before.

Exhilarating as it felt, he wondered how come he hadn't discovered it until now.