He couldn't really tell how long they traveled.

The important thing was that they made it to the village before sunset — actually, way before sunset, from what it seemed. Although he didn't really understand the importance of it — other than it would be hard to ride in the dark, but he had a feeling there might be more to it — either way, he was just glad.

Even more so, when it turned out that Kyrillos and his wife lived on the outskirts of the village, and more importantly — that they lived alone, so there was only one more new mortal he had yet to encounter today.

Oh, the little joys.

Kyrillos' wife turned out to be — unsurprisingly — a gray-haired old lady; a very tiny one, even for a mortal. She was roughly a half of Xena. Shouldn't a healer be strong, so they could lift their patients? Or did they have people for that? He didn't know how that worked, any more than he knew about any other mortal trivialities, so he dismissed the thought and frowned at showing interest in mortal issues in the first place — before grimacing at the realization that those were now his issues, too.

The wife's name was Pelagia.

Pelagia was way different from her husband.

While Kyrillos was an easy-going, quite a pleasant old fellow, Pelagia appeared to be a nag, and a stern one at that. She reminded Ares of his late mother, Hera — and having made that parallel, he couldn't help feeling sorry for the old guy.

The house was what he guessed was a typical country house — not that he ever devoted any time to studying the architecture of Greek countryside — but it pretty much looked like any other house in the village. It had a roof and it had a doctor in it — that was the bare minimum Ares had wished for and there it was.

Carrying Xena in his arms, Ares followed Pelagia further into the house, as per what was probably meant as a request, but sounded more like an order. But if taking orders from old mortal ladies was what it took to nurse Xena back to health, he would just shut up and do it, he didn't care anymore. His pride might have suffered, but something told him that similar humiliation would keep happening more and more in the future — at this establishment for certain — and so he figured he should probably start warming up to it now, when he was still playing mister nice guy for Xena's sake, so that he'd be less likely to lose his temper later on — the immunity which, in turn, might come in handy later on if he, by any chance, ever decided to keep being civil even after things went back to normal, should he benefit from it in any way — one never knew.

He followed Pelagia into a room with a relatively low ceiling — it was going to be a pain in the ass to walk around here — and — in the absence of further orders from the old lady for the time being, he walked up to the only bed in the room and laid Xena down on the sheets and sat down by her side.

She looked so peaceful; he wondered if she was unconscious or just asleep. He took her hand in his. It was still cold, so he leaned a bit forward and put it against his cheek to warm it. He checked her forehead; it was warm, but he didn't know if that level of warm was normal, that was for the healer lady to figure.

Pelagia approached the bed and hovered over Xena, touching her forehead exactly like he just did.

"Will she be fine?"

"Pulse much weaker than normal," Pelagia muttered under her nose, holding Xena's wrist before moving on to examine the rest of her body. "We need to get her out of those leathers, and fast," she ordered matter-of-factly, stuffing a brown rag in his hands.

He looked at it with unseeing eyes for what he felt was just a second, but before he blinked, Xena was already undressed. Seeing her nude would always take his breath away but all he could see now was only how badly bruised the left side of her ribcage was.

Then, looking down, he saw her blood-covered inner thighs and the memory came back to him in a flash, making him suddenly lightheaded.

"She's bleeding…"

"Of course she is, my child — just as every other fertile female on the planet, for several days each month — it's what it takes for muttonheads like you to be born into this world," Pelagia smiled patronizingly, shaking her head. "Men…" she added with smirk, raising her eyebrows.

He frowned, blinking, as the realization settled in. So it wasn't him, he hadn't hurt her, it was her monthly bleeding… he let out a loud sigh and closed his eyes, feeling the weight being lifted off his chest.

Having brought a sponge and a bowl of what he guessed was water, Pelagia started to wipe the bloody skin clean. Once she was done, she stuffed a folded piece of fabric between the thighs. "It's to absorb the monthly bleeding — she will need to wear it for several more days," Pelagia explained slowly — she had to be doing this on purpose — making him want to pulverize her with a fireball.

"Ok, now you help me get her dressed and then I will have to leave you two for a while. If she wakes up — don't say anything that might upset her. She should avoid stress for the time being," she instructed sternly. "Although, I don't know how that's gonna work out with you around. But then again — if she chose you for a husband, you can't be completely hopeless…" she mused on her way out of the room.

Ares was stunned. He would fry people alive for less. That woman had crossed so many lines that he was even past the point of being outraged, he just sat there dumbfounded.

Ok, fuck it — that was a lost cause. As much as he appreciated the female kind for some of their qualities, there was something about arguing with a woman that made you eventually so worn out you would give up, just to give your brain a much-needed rest.

He wondered if Hera had been like that with Zeus throughout their marriage. No wonder Zeus let Hercules kill him.

He then wondered if Xena would be like that with him.

Oh, hell yes, she would. But then again, he liked that kind of spirit in a woman; well, in his woman, not in patronizing old hags.

Lost in thought, he hardly noticed Pelagia was back.

"A head trauma," she said, carefully examining Xena's scalp and face with her fingers. "How long has she been out?"

Ares shook his head, snapping out of his reverie. For the life of him, he couldn't tell how much time had passed. Overall, she stayed more or less conscious — rather less — until now.

"Brain concussion — judging by head bruises and loss of consciousness," she stated. "Whether it's a mild one or a serious one — we'll only know once she's awake. Unless there was something characteristic you recall from before she passed out?" she asked, walking to a nearby table, collecting some items from there that he didn't like the look of.

"She said the light was blinding her… and she had trouble speaking," Ares remembered, trying to fish for anything else.

"Speech impairment and light sensitivity," said Pelagia.

He didn't like the sound of the words, nor the way she said them. "Will she recover fully?"

"It depends on how serious the injury to the brain is. As I said, I need to examine her when she's conscious," she said, bringing another bowl of water and a tray full of different sharp-looking tools, putting it all down on a stool next to the bed. "For now, I'll give her something to numb the pain," she said, opening a jar of some dark substance that she then spread onto several spots on her patient's body. "The poppy ointment — works wonders for pain. It will take effect shortly," she explained. "In the meantime, I'll prep her for dressing her scalp wound. You stay here, I'll need you to hold her down in case she wakes up."

"Hold her down?" he asked, dumbfounded. He didn't like the sound of it any more than the look of the tray of torture. As much as he loved both torture and weapons, he wasn't looking forward to seeing them in use now.

"Yes, when I'm stitching the wound. I will be using needles to do that, and needles are sharp, and if you stick them through your skin, it hurts as heck," the old lady explained to him, taking her time to articulate each word slow and clear.

He drew in a slow, deep breath, and praised himself inwardly for his earlier decision to accept humiliation gradually. Had this been the first instance, he would have strangled the old hag. Well, maybe not strangle — Xena wouldn't have liked that — but he would've roared — or done something else that scared mortals without killing them.

Seriously, if someone had told him yesterday that he would be putting up with such shit today, he would have sent them to Tartarus sooner than he'd stop laughing.

"What are you doing?" He got up, watching the witch press the blade against Xena's scalp.

"Calm down — I'm removing the hair so I can stitch the wound — the hair is in the way," Pelagia explained in a similar manner like before, but this time it didn't move him at all.

"How much will you remove?" he rushed with a question.

"What does it matter? You would love her even if I shaved her bald," Pelagia muttered with a knowing smile. How did she… he was right she was a witch. But yeah, who was he kidding — he would love Xena probably even if she was a man.

Still, seeing how Pelagia removed only a small patch of hair — and it was more on the side than the top of the head, so the rest of the hair will cover it anyway — he exhaled with relief.

"Would you be a doll now and keep her head steady for me? Hold here," Pelagia asked, demonstrating.

Ares didn't want to be a doll, but followed her instructions precisely and held his breath, disgusted with himself. In all the eons of his godly life, he'd witnessed the full spectrum of possible mutilations to a human body without as much as batting an eyelid, unless with ecstasy. And now… at this very moment, he was glad she was unconscious.

"In case the pain wakes her up, she'll jerk her whole body, not just the head, so while holding the head, be ready to pin her down with your chest."

It seemed like the pain medication wasn't as great as the witch claimed — Xena cried out mere seconds after the fun started, and he pinned her down when she shuddered at the initial shock.

After that she kept still, but it felt good to be holding her close when the butchery witch was causing her suffering, so he stayed where he was.

"You'll be fine soon…" he whispered, as quiet as he could, holding the sides of her head and pressing his cheek against hers as she kept whimpering in pain.

"You can let go, she's now conscious and I can tell she knows she should keep it steady," Pelagia spoke, and for the first time today, her voice calmed him down.

"Can I do anything?" he asked, propping himself on one elbow to stay close to her.

Pelagia smiled at him. "I'm afraid you can't, my dear. Well, unless you want to have her sink her nails in your skin," she chuckled.

Dumbfounded, not really sure what he was doing, he took one of Xena's hands and put it on his bicep, and winced as he felt the sudden sting of nails burying into his skin. He looked up; Pelagia was smiling under her nose.

"See? It's working," she mused knowingly. "You might consider changing the spot — this one is bleeding already."

He looked down, shocked to see the blood drops. It was starting to hurt, now that she mentioned it; but he didn't move.

And just like that, it was over.

"I'll be back in a moment," Pelagia said quietly, leaving the room. Finally.

Xena was breathing rapidly, still clutching at his arm.

"Hey," he whispered. He wasn't counting for an answer, really — he knew she couldn't speak — he just felt the need to speak to her. "How're you feeling?"

"Never better…" he heard her mutter so quietly he must have heard it only because of their close proximity. He smiled with sheer joy and gratitude at finally hearing her voice.

He wanted to say something, anything really, but it seemed it was his turn to lose his voice, for a change. Somehow, it was much easier when he assumed she couldn't hear him.

She let go of his arm, her hand sliding down until it rested on the sheets by her side. He was glad he could finally sit up and stretch his numb elbow.

He took her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze, then gasped when he felt her squeeze him back. "Does it still hurt?" he asked promptly, partly to cover up his embarrassment, partly because he was genuinely interested if the witch's magic ointment was really doing its job. Somehow, he was pretty confident it did. Somehow — though the old hag still annoyed him, naturally — he was actually starting to respect her expertise in the field.

"Not as much as this probably does," Xena replied, pointing her chin to his arm. Her voice already sounded so much better; her speech was still a bit slower, but her voice — it even had a tad of the usual ironic vibe to it.

He instinctively looked to where she pointed; the red scratches on his arm, with the little bloody trails that were mostly dried up by now.

"It's just a scratch," he played it down casually, although — fuck yes, it did hurt, and yes — he hated it, especially now when it suddenly occurred to him that it might leave scars.

"Sorry about that," she smiled at him, and he felt such a rush in his chest that it suddenly became very clear to him that he would let her scar the rest of his body in a heartbeat if she asked.

She kept staring at him with those impossibly blue eyes that made him so weak, and so strong, and he was drowning. He lay down next to her, supporting himself on one elbow. Leaning in, somewhere between breathing in the stale smell of her sweat mixed with the herbal scent of the ointment and trying to hold back the sudden urge to kiss her, he thought this was the happiest he'd been in a long time.

"I'm so glad you're back," he uttered quietly against the soft, bruised skin, closing his eyes, nuzzling her cheek with the tip of his nose. Then, he felt her hand on the nape of his neck, pulling him close until he pressed his cheek to the crook of her neck, her arm wrapping around him, hands stroking the back of his head until the only the only thing he was aware of was the fast-paced thumping in her chest.

If this was how it felt to be mortal, even if it was just a drop in the sea of all the nightmare — for the way he was feeling now, it was all worth it.

Naturally, that was the moment the old hag chose to invade their privacy.

He groaned inwardly, thinking how she would certainly make great friends with Gabrielle — which, in turn, made him groan again once he realized that, inevitably, he would have to send for the bard.

Meanwhile, he was told that the patient needed her rest and Pelagia shooed him out of the room.