Gabrielle didn't know how short she had slept.

Definitely short enough to wake up with a throbbing headache.

Letting out a murmur of protest, she opened her eyes to a yard lit with a shy, morning sun. Propping herself on both elbows, she stretched her neck and drank into the coziness of the view and the crispness of the morning air; until her eyes fell on the stables.

The heaviness of the memory settled in her chest, shattering the peaceful innocence of the morning irreversibly.

Yet another burden to keep from Xena.

As much as Gabrielle would rather own up to last night — to being an accidental intruder on the conversation that made her cry herself to sleep — it was Xena's feelings she was concerned about. When Xena mentioned how Ares was now all emotional, she obviously forgot to mention she wasn't doing much better herself in this department, if any.

Gabrielle exhaled heavily. Somehow, she wasn't looking forward to their talk anymore.

She needed to wash the night off her.

"Well, good morning!" Gabrielle heard a familiar, female voice in the distance.

"An early bird catches the worm," Pelagia beamed, coming her way, making her smile with unease; little did their hostess know that Gabrielle was much closer to the proverbial worm than she was to the bird.

"Morning," Gabrielle smiled back, hastily trying to blink the sleep off her face.

"Gabrielle, the word has reached me that you've had your own share of medical experience," Pelagia started.

"A very long time ago, and not much—"

But Pelagia didn't wait for the end of that sentence. "Well, with that established — how would you feel about accompanying me to work today, young lady?"

Gabrielle's chest expanded with such joy that it took her a second to regain her breath.

"Alright then, we leave in one hour. Come help me with breakfast."

By the gods, the day couldn't have taken a better turn.

She thought back to Xena and Ares; was it safe to leave the two of them alone here, after last night? Probably even more so — they might as well take a step or two towards working things out if they had privacy.

They were two adults; Xena didn't need her to go all mother-hen on her.

And she had a breakfast to prepare.

#

Xena awoke to the sound of hammering.

Outside the window it seemed to be almost sunset already — another day wasted — and paradoxically, she felt like she had barely slept at all. The headache was mild, but it was there and it was damn annoying.

Exhaling rapidly, the cause of her sleep deprivation started to slowly creep back into her memory, the flashes of last night sending waves of cold fever over her.

She made a move to leave the room but hesitated for a second when she thought about him, and that she might jump into him, and that she would rather not. Last night left a highly sour taste in her mouth. She knew it was going to be hard to part ways after the last several days of this unexpected intimacy between them, but it was even harder after the nightmare of last night, when he called her out on things she couldn't afford admitting, even if she had to endure being called a coward and a hypocrite — it was for the best — this, whatever it was, it had to end, one way or another.

But him pushing her away the way he did — that was a first. That was something she would've never fathomed.

Maybe it was better that way, one clean cut.

The memory of Alecto made her jaw tense. It was exhilarating, to feel the life fade from the sleazy bitch under her touch, much more exhilarating than Xena would have liked to admit to herself. Well, ever since the Furies attacked Ares she had meant to take care of them, anyway. There were still two sisters left, but they likely couldn't do shit without Alecto anyway, so one problem off her plate. Still, it was intriguing how she had managed to strangle the bitch when she had to put effort into picking up her sword now.

Fucking Alecto. And him, the son of a bitch. It sickened her to picture them together. She knew he wouldn't have lied about being blacked out for three days — the excuse was too lame and ridiculous to be made up. Either way, he had been with her all that time, Alecto confirmed it herself — maybe she wanted a child out of him, maybe that was supposed to be his end of the deal — but why would she drug him? Well, she had to stop because if she dwelled on it any longer she was going to be sick.

Well, she did this to herself.

Had she acted reasonably instead of giving in to her primal urges, it wouldn't have come to this.

He finally gave up on her. That was a first.

And something she wished for since forever.

A deep breath in, and out; she needed to get her shit together. She needed diversion, and fast.

And to get away from here, the sooner the better. She wasn't fully recovered yet, but enough to get back on the horse and hit the road. She hadn't discussed it with Gabrielle yet but it would be good to leave in the morning. They were overstaying their welcome, anyway.

In the meantime, she should get back in the saddle mentally, wash the dreadful afterglow of last night — along with the rest of her stay here — off of her. Having done that, she should sharpen her sword, put her leathers on and take Argo for a ride.

She could definitely use a bath; refreshingly cool lake water, to wash him off her body and mind.

Pelagia had mentioned that reaching the lake required walking to the other end of the village; she must have obviously meant the flat shore, kids-elders-and-laundry-friendly.

That was not what Xena had in mind.

Right now, she wanted a wild, rugged one, dense with sharp branches that would leave tiny little scratches on her body before the cool water enveloped her. And that shore was probably much closer.

She drew in a breath in sudden panic, thinking that he might have already left. Well, so fucking what? That was what was supposed to happen, she and Gabrielle would leave tomorrow, and Ares wasn't their damn business — he could leave anytime he wanted, if he hadn't yet.

Her heart racing, bare feet tapping on the creaking floorboards, she set off. She needed that lake badly.

Having reached the main road leading to the house, she crossed it and disappeared in the green wall of dense bushes. Following the flora and the humidity levels, she was led straight to the shore.

And it was perfect; for the whole of several minutes when there was just water and her.

As soon as her foot reached the dry land, he was back on her mind, on her skin. When she put her linen shift back on, every brush of the rugged fabric against the damp skin made her crave for it to be him. Closing her eyes, she considered going back into the water to relieve her tension, but the urge to know if he had left was stronger.

Approaching the house, she heard the hammering noises; Kyrillos must have been doing carpentry.

The sounds were coming from behind the house. She wanted to change into dry clothes first but the sudden impulse won.

Her heart racing, she reached the yard at the back of the house, and stopped dead in her tracks, her breath gone.

He hadn't left.

He couldn't see her; standing with his back to her, on the top of the ladder propped against the roof of the stables.

Sitting on a chopped tree trunk nearby was Kyrillos, in the middle of telling some story, or a joke — he was laughing, and Ares occasionally joined in; it was hard not to smile when he did.

She made a move to retreat back to the house, but it was too late. Kyrillos waved at her.

Squinting her eyes against the afternoon sun, she approached the working site just as Ares took his last step down what she couldn't help but notice was a rather flimsy looking ladder, stood both his feet on the ground and slowly turned right to see what Kyrillos was waving at.

He was barefoot, his back and shoulders freshly sunburnt, the linen pants — obviously borrowed from Kyrillos, being both too short and too tight — stained with grass, soil and occasional smears of dried-up blood. There was a gash under his ribcage; the one she had miraculously managed to stitch last night.

She could still just turn back and leave, she actually should; but she couldn't, her legs wouldn't listen.

Their eyes met and she noticed his smile fade instantly. Ignoring her, he looked back towards the roof, and then to Kyrillos, squinting against the sun in his face, pointing towards the roof while explaining something to the old man, making Kyrillos wave his hand and laugh merrily in response, as if she wasn't even there. Her throat went dry.

He didn't look at her once, not even when Kyrillos greeted her. She only heard the old man's voice addressing her, but whatever he said she missed it, fazed by the silent treatment.

Her breath shallow, she walked up to Ares — her eyes on the cut below his ribs. She could now see it well in the daylight for a change; it was neatly stitched, but she didn't like the look of the reddish swelling around it.

"How is it?" she asked, making a move to inspect it, but he moved away abruptly, covering the wound with his hand.

A lump formed in her already dry throat.

"I'm fine," Ares said, not looking at her, glancing up the ladder, as if considering if to go back up or not.

Dimly realizing that Kyrillos was still talking, she turned to face him.

"I was just saying, I meant to fix the roof myself, but the stubborn guy over there wouldn't let me, and I mean — wouldn't even let me touch the hammer, you know," he said, chuckling, "like I was some damn old fart, can you believe that?" Her brain turned off right after that, abandoning Kyrillos yet again.

The sound of the familiar laughter snapped her back to the one-sided conversation, making her suspend her gaze on the source of the sound, standing so close to her; his squinting eyes, the cheeks dimpled in merry laughter not meant for her, so genuine, so warm, so close to her and not seeing her at all.

"It's infected," she stated, her eyes going back to the wound.

And he just walked past her like she wasn't there, approached the old man and took the waterskin out of his hand. "I think a refill is in order," he announced, turning to make his way back to the house, leaving her with Kyrillos, who was still talking.

"Yeah," she said in the air, not having the slightest idea what she was replying to.

She needed to leave but she stood there stunned, her stomach contracting with a rush of something unbearable.

It was the comforting sound of Gabrielle's cheerful voice that brought her back. As soon as, in her usual style, Gabrielle smoothly slid into the conversation, Xena decided to leave the chattery duo to recharge their social batteries while she headed off to solitude to restore her freshly ruined peace of mind.

She knew if she entered the house now, she would pass him by on her way to her room; he would be in the kitchen area to the left, but she didn't care. With her headache back with double force, she needed to lie down.

The front door was wide open.

She bumped right into him.

Both taken aback, they both froze; and she felt like the time froze too. It felt like a never-ending second of tension between two predators; their eyes locked, their breaths on hold.

And then it all crumbled. The wave of heat washed over her as she saw it all in slow motion — his sweaty sunburnt chest, the mad look in his eyes, his hands dropping the two wineskins as he frantically reached for her waist, pulling her close so abruptly it made her gasp; his hands closing around her head, pressing their foreheads together until it hurt. She cradled his face hungrily, fervently, her heart about to jump out of her chest. They froze again, now in a shaky embrace, inhaling each other rapidly, and she felt her chest would erupt if she stayed there any longer.

He carried her to her bed, to their bed; his eyes glued to hers, wild like she'd never seen them. He kept his pants on — she knew it was because they risked being caught any minute, which turned her on even more, as much as how feverish and shaky it was, when she lifted her shift, showing him the ocean of evidence of how much she needed him, and wailed into his mouth as he painfully showed her how much he needed her. He was rough and it hurt, but she didn't stop him; for some reason — she needed this pain, she welcomed it.

She was drowning in his arms, in his mouth; clutching at his face with quivering, sweaty palms, so desperately as if he was about to slip away and let her drown for good. He bit her when he came, on her shoulder, so deep he must have drawn blood.

Lying on her back, panting, her eyes shut, she heard the door close behind him.

Shaken, she blindly reached for the sheets around her; she was hot and sweaty, but she felt a sudden need to cover herself. Turning to her side, she curled up and pulled the sheet over her, till it isolated her from the world entirely; and prayed to no one in particular that Gabrielle didn't come here now.

She froze when she heard his loud steps back at the house.

Then, seconds later, she released her breath when she realized he only came back for the waterskins.

Breathing through open mouth, she curled up more under the sheets.

#

He lost control when he bumped into her in the doorway; wet-haired, the damp linen clinging to the curve of her breasts; and then those eyes; glossy and open, and so unguarded it caught him off his own guard; he just lost it. He wanted to both devour her and tear her apart. Grabbing her head, he wanted to smash it until her skull cracked between his palms; and then he saw her mouth part under his touch, and felt her hands on his face — and he couldn't; he needed to loose himself in her one last time.

It was a grave mistake.

He knew it the moment he drew moans of pain from her. He meant it to hurt, wanted to see her hurt, just like he was hurting, though no amount of physical pain would amount to that. But then he found himself mesmerized with those endless pools of blue, welling up with a new coat of shine with his every thrust, making him want to both fuck her till it hurt more and kiss those tears away, and it was tearing him apart.

No, he had to stop it; this was just a quick fuck, he couldn't do this, drown in those damn eyes shining with something that made him blink back his own tears; he tried to avert his gaze, but eventually he just let her hold him prisoner instead, watching her burn for him in such unveiled surrender that he couldn't take it anymore. Whatever the hell she was doing to him, it felt so right and so wrong, devastating, worse than he felt in forever.

Nauseating misery still fresh in his gut, he ran out of the house. Of course, the fucking waterskin — that was why he came here in the first place. Hurriedly, he rushed back to the kitchen, refilled it partly, not waiting till it was full — he needed to get away, to get out, to breathe in fresh air, a lot of it.

He winced, glancing down at the wound on his chest. It was starting to hurt as fuck; she was right about the infection. He needed to get Pelagia to look at it once she was back from work — because, of course, that one single time when he needed her, the damn witch wasn't there.

He would ask Kyrillos when she was coming back; though he knew what the answer was going to be. She went in and out at random hours, and it was common that a patient kept her longer than the usual slot of time allocated. He needed to forget the pain for now.

He tried to estimate how much time had passed since he left Kyrillos to get water; felt like several minutes, roughly. He wondered if Kyrillos would know what took him so long to refill the waterskin. Of course, he would, that guy knew things; Ares had already come to terms with it. But it was fine. He didn't mind. Kyrillos would really have to go to great lengths to cross him. In the last several days Ares had grown to like the old chap, more than he'd openly admit.

What wasn't fine, though, was coming back to find Kyrillos with Gabrielle, chatting like they had known each other forever.

He didn't know why it angered him so. Gabrielle had traditionally irked him on default with just her existence; but this time was different; there was more to it. He watched her from a distance; the way she nodded her head when talking to Kyrillos, the way she leaned in confidentially when the old man spoke. The blonde-haired snake. It wasn't enough that she had always tried to come between him and Xena, now she wouldn't stop short of trying to poison the old man's mind against him.

No, that he wouldn't have.

This wasn't her turf, he had been here first, and it just so happened that he liked the old guy and wasn't going to let the snake hover around.

Whatever the fuck she was still doing there, anyway. They were both supposed to be gone by the morning. It was bad enough he had to see Xena's face just now.

Okay, it was time to send the blond snake packing.

"Ares…!" Gabrielle called out, greeting him from the distance. "Kyrillos has just been telling me how helpful you've been around the house."

He sneered. Who the fuck did she think she was, to be patting him on the back like they were buddies, or like he was a dumb kid who finally got something right after the first ten attempts.

He had the response on the tip of his tongue, and only a sideway glance at Kyrillos made him reconsider. The old man's face was beaming with that smug kindness that always got the better of him; their eyes met for a brief second and somehow, Ares felt he didn't need to mark territory anymore.

"Just trying to make myself useful," he replied casually, staring down at her, seeing her squint her eyes against the sun, wrinkling her nose in a way that made her look like she was a kid. Even through her half-closed lids he could see there was something different about her, about the way she looked at him. Her usual cheekiness was missing; and she was less at ease than usual. Somehow, that made him even less in a mood to put her down.

"That's very kind of you. Who knows, maybe you'll grow to like it and decide to settle down one day," Gabrielle smiled. There was that uneasiness in her voice and her eyes, contrasting with her smile; there was something disturbing about it. Why the fuck would he care, anyway?

But this time, the patronizing tone of her words pissed him off, and this time — Kyrillos' gaze wasn't there to save her.

"Or… I could just gather a new army and finish what I started back at the Amazon camp," he offered casually, drinking in the apprehension overtaking her face. "Oh, and uhm… you might wanna check on your friend — she seemed a bit off color last time I saw her."

He watched with satisfaction as Gabrielle's face turned pale, her eyes widening in confusion.

"I uhm… I have to go," she uttered, more to herself than anyone else.

Ares stood still with his head up, arms folded on his chest, eyes piercing through her back victoriously as she kept retreating, weak and defeated.

Seconds later, a wave of raw misery washed over him.

His breath suddenly labored, he felt like he just got punched in the gut.

"Son," a familiar voice reached him from behind his back, from what seemed a very long distance; a soothing voice he was glad to hear, he needed to hear. "Come here."

But he didn't.

He rubbed his face roughly with his fists, consumed with the raw urge to smash his own head against a stone wall.

"I know it hurts, son, but we'll get you through it," Kyrillos said with a calm, reassuring confidence. Surprisingly, hearing such words directed at him didn't make Ares feel any less of a man; the impact they made — that did. He couldn't turn back now.

But he didn't need to.

He heard the steps behind his back.

"You'll see you'll come out of it stronger than you've ever been, son — that I can promise you."

He froze, feeling a sudden pat on the back. The hand stayed on his shoulder blade for a while. Surprisingly, he eased into it; his shoulders sagged; and then, just like that, he was able to breathe again.

He let the reassuring warmth of the hand stay there and guide him forward, until they were both on their way, Kyrillos and him, away from the mess that — for the time being — needed to be left behind.

#

"Xena," Gabrielle knocked, but there was silence.

Against her instincts, she still hoped it meant Xena was asleep.

Opening the door slowly, Gabrielle entered the room to see a bedsheet-covered heap of a silhouette in the middle of the bed. Her heart sank.

"Hey," she whispered, sitting down on the bed, placing a firm hand on her friend's shoulder, wiping a tear with the back of her other hand, and smiling at the thought of how she was about to be kicked out any minute now, to let the proud warrior suffer her heartache in solitude like a true badass that she wanted to be. Xena tended to act that way especially around that time of the month, when her hormones tipped the scale from masculine towards feminine — only slightly, but enough for her to dramatically label the phenomenon as "emotional mindfuckery" and walk around trying to act tougher than usual to cover up her increased emotional sensitivity. There were few things in life that Gabrielle found more endearing than that.

Gabrielle's hand moved to stroke Xena's back; she felt it shake, almost imperceptibly; blinking and biting on both her lips at once, Gabrielle felt a knot forming in her chest.

"I know you don't wanna talk, and I'll leave you alone in a minute, but I just wanted you to know I'm back, and around the house in case you wanna talk," she said. "Which of course we both know won't happen", she added to herself but loud enough for Xena to hear; she could almost feel the smile from under the sheets.

She lied down, spooning Xena from behind and covering them both with a layer of sheets. Her hand rested on Xena's shoulder; they stayed like that for a while, the dreadful silence of the sunless room contrasting with the summer happiness outside. Pressing her forehead to the spot between Xena's shoulder blades, Gabrielle knew that in a minute or two she would be asked to leave, but for the moment — they were in it together.

Gabrielle thought back to last night and the short exchange with Ares from a moment ago, patching the pieces together to form a general picture.

It was strange, to see him hurt.

Even stranger, to feel bad about it.

And, strangest of all, to feel that he didn't deserve it at all.