Gabrielle woke up with the worst headache of her entire life. It hurt to even open her eyes.

There was a wineskin on her chest. Grimacing, she tossed it aside, letting it fall on the grass, the waves of memories starting to wash over her.

She was never going to touch alcohol ever again.

Xena.

Jumping up, Gabrielle stormed off to the stables; it made her head almost explode and her stomach churn with nausea, but it didn't matter.

And then, she let out a loud breath. In the stables, looking at her disapprovingly and neighing to voice it — was Argo.

It was like the weight of the world was lifted off her chest. Inhaling the morning air, she noticed it wasn't that crisp; the sun was high up already, she must have slept in; but that didn't matter either. What did matter was that Argo was here.

She rushed to the house.

Xena's bedroom door was closed. Gabrielle pushed down the handle softly and peeked inside.

Xena was sitting on the bed, taking off her boots.

"Xena…" Gabrielle hugged her friend, making Xena wince. "What's wrong, are you hurt?"

"Nope."

"Where have you been, I was worried sick!"

"You sure do smell like it," Xena grimaced.

"Xena… don't, okay? It was a momentary lapse of judgment, and it's your fault anyway — we were worried you didn't come back for the night, so one thing led to another and well — but I swear — I'm not gonna as much as smell wine ever again."

"We — as in you and who?"

"Me and Ares."

"What?"

"I know, I can't believe it either… but you know, wine facilitates things," Gabrielle said, trying to explain the turn of events to herself in the first place. She looked at Xena and saw the look of horror on her face. It puzzled her. She wasn't proud of getting drunk like that, and with Ares of all people, but such a strong reaction she wouldn't have expected. Unless… oh. Oh no, that can't be, she couldn't think that her and Ares…

"Xena, I was trying to fall asleep in my spot behind the stables, it was the middle of the night and I was still waiting for you, and then Ares came, looking for you; we were both worried where you were; he brought wine and we started talking, and then… I might have passed out at some point," Gabrielle finished effortlessly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Xena's brows were still furrowed and she looked pretty much not happy.

"Talking about what…?"

"Well, various things, you mostly; but also philosophy, religion, his parents; you know, that kinda stuff."

Xena's brows creased more, and her lips pursed in grimace of such disgust that it made Gabrielle realize that she might actually be about to be sick herself, sometime soon.

"That kinda stuff?"

"I mean, he's still a jerk-"

"Oh, tell me about it…"

"But it's no wonder, with dysfunctional parents like his; but he does have his moments."

"He what? Gabrielle, are you still — gods, you're drunk as fuck!"

"All I'm trying to say — I get it what you see in him, Xena; well, you wouldn't fall in love with just anyone."

"What? I am not in love with him!"

"Xena, please…"

"You're drunk."

"Alright Xena, you know what — there's no talking with you when you're immature like this — I'm gonna go now," Gabrielle mumbled, raising her palm.

"Well, I hope so, if you keep breathing in my face I'm gonna be drunk, too."

"You know, you can be such a bitch sometimes…"

"Goodnight Gabrielle… Come on, let's get you to bed. There, here's the chamber pot — you use it, and I'll go fix you a nice jug of water."

#

Having assisted Gabrielle with emptying her stomach contents into the chamber pot, followed by forcing a substantial amount of water in her — despite protests — and finally, having tucked her in, Xena sat on the edge of the bed, exhaling.

She looked down to her feet; she came to like being barefoot during her stay here. She did enjoy having her regular gear on, but somehow, she always felt like taking the boots off the minute she entered the house.

Right now, she considered taking off the leather dress too. It irked her, somehow, the way it clung to her body so tight; but she didn't want to keep wearing her bed shift — it made her feel unfit and weak.

She walked up to the chest under the window and browsed through it in search of some compromise; she fished out a white linen knee-length dress, a bit too girly and somewhat transparent, but it would do.

Taking off the leather dress, she winced as it brushed against her ribcage. She took off her black shift as well and looked down to her bare midsection, examining it gently with her fingertips. It looked pretty ugly, with all the fresh bruising and scraped skin, but the ribs seemed intact; she was able to take a full breath, so there were no cracks. Luckily, the injury was on a different side of the ribcage than the one she got from the fistfight with Ares. Good — it would have been a drag to add broken ribs to the current situation.

Other than that, and several additional bruises on her legs and probably her back as well — all good.

Why in the world she hadn't worn the breastplate — while having worn the rest of her gear — she couldn't understand, it was against her logic and beyond explanation. Maybe it was the aftermath of concussion, maybe her brain hasn't fully recovered yet; that would have explained some of the other things as well — like, why was she letting Ares get to her like that. She wouldn't even have a battered ribcage now if it hadn't been for that. It was their whole fucking little drama that drove her to the point of rushing off like that in the first place.

Her mind went back to the previous day. She'd been a mess already, after their argument from the night before, and then the brief encounter with him left her in bed, fucked up, and for Gabrielle to see of course. It was a disaster she had needed to recover from fast. She didn't want Gabrielle to feel sorry for her. She needed to get away for a bit, to get a breath of fresh air; and she had meant to take Argo for a ride anyway. And then, the day turned into night and now she was back, with a slight delay due to the little trouble she had run into.

But here she was now, with Gabrielle telling her how not only he hadn't left yet, but that he hadn't been able sleep when she didn't come back for the night.

It moved her way more than she'd like — but it didn't change anything. They were about to part ways, and it was best to stay out of each other's way till then, especially now when he seemed to be taking out his hurt on her; she had her own feelings to deal with, she couldn't take more.

She put the white dress on, checking how much of the bruising it revealed. Just the legs, and one bruise between her breasts that she only just noticed now.

Of course, she was still in for Gabrielle nagging her about how she was still not fully recovered — she was going to get an earful of that — she didn't need to add to it by flashing her bruises in Gabrielle's face — the less she saw the better.

She looked at the bed — Gabrielle was asleep, snoring softly.

Well, it was time to wash the chamber pot.

On her way out, she glanced to the right — the kitchen was empty. Sighing, she walked out on the porch.

It was almost noon.

Jumping off the porch, she made her way to the left and then left again, along the long northern wall of the house and on towards the back yard. She stopped and sighed, looking to the stables in the distance.

She closed her eyes, a wave of frustrated anger and tenderness washing over her. Every fucking spot of this place made her think of him. He wasn't even here and he was everywhere.

Where the hell was he, anyway?

He couldn't have left yet — if they'd been up drinking till dawn, he was likely still passed out. Like Gabrielle, he wasn't exactly a morning person, she thought, a corner of her lips curling up in a smile.

Ares and Gabrielle drinking together; for the life of her, she just couldn't picture it; what a lovely few hours of mumbled put-downs it must have been.

Having left the clean chamber pot at the side of the bed, she gave Gabrielle a tender pat on the head. Poor Gabrielle, she was in for a lot of headache today.

She closed the door as quietly as possible and headed for the kitchen to grab a waterskin.

Right now, there was only one thing that could help her ease the dread of today, or at least put it on a short hold.

She needed a swim.

#

Ares woke up with a headache.

While the headache itself was surprisingly mild, the thirst was killing him.

The wineskin was empty. Well, the thought of wine put him off now, anyway.

Groaning, he climbed out of bed and set out on a quest for water.

The sun was high up; well, no wonder — he did go to sleep at dawn.

What a weird night. He had spent hours — hours — talking to the blonde gnome, of all people; and in all honesty, he had to admit — surprisingly, it wasn't even that bad. Of course, the wine softened the horror, but still — it was quite an endurable experience.

He thought of Gabrielle and laughed; with her alcohol tolerance, she must have been dying of the worst hangover right now.

#

Xena was on her way back to the house.

The swim helped. Though, predictably, the effect was now starting to wear off as the reality crept back in.

Her stomach rumbled. She knew she should eat something, but she'd had no appetite since yesterday.

Her eyes widened when she realized that actually, she wouldn't say no to some wine and just chilling in the sun. Dammit, she really needed to get back on the road — the whole lazy, rural life was apparently starting to get to her a bit too much.

She had noticed it yesterday during her ride.

It was exhilarating to feel the wind in her hair, to hit the road again, but somehow, it didn't feel quite the same as usual; she hadn't enjoyed it to the extent she had expected to. And so, she kept on riding, losing herself in the chase of that unspecified missing element which seemed so vital.

Strangely, she never found it.

Instead — which was unsettling — she'd found herself longing to go back — back to the place — and this was even more unsettling — back to the place she caught herself calling home. There was this feeling, some strange kind of peace overtaking her when she was on her way back to the house. It felt so good to know that she would find Gabrielle there.

But there was a part of her that longed for more than that, and as much as she tried to crush it, it wouldn't go away, making her heart race; a part of her that wanted to come home to find him there, too.

Despite the bad blood after their recent interaction, despite her better instincts and reason, despite her decision to avoid him till one of them left — she needed to know if he was still here, to know that he was fine.

Funny, how she'd used to think the injuries to her pride would be so much harder to recover from than a heartbreak; and how she had always been able to rely on her pride to save herself from him. Where were her pride, her dignity, and her principles now? The worst thing was — she didn't care anymore; not much, not half as much as she should have.

It was like dying of thirst that only one stream in the whole world could quench; since it was poisoned, she knew she would die if she drank from it; she had always known that. The only difference now was that it was starting to feel that if she doesn't drink from it soon, she would die from thirst alone, and this death was starting to seem much more painful.

She stopped and closed her eyes, warm breeze on her face, her chest tightening.

Opening her eyes, she looked at the house in the far distance. The house she'd only known for several days, and which was so hard to leave now.

She couldn't go back, not yet.

She couldn't risk running into him now, not when she was like this.

#

He finally made his way to the house.

Almost.

On second thought, he might have been a bit more hungover than he'd thought. Apart from the regular day-after fatigue, he was strangely out of breath. Maybe he was reaching the old age already.

But he was almost there, the kitchen was just round the corner, just three steps — five, if big — separated him from the source of water; and yet somehow, he found himself sinking down on the porch.

Just for a minute, just to catch a breath; to close his eyes, let the light breeze dry off the sweat on his forehead. It did feel good; he could lie down and have a nap. It would've been nice. Well, until the old hag found him here asleep. The thought made him lift his eyelids.

Maybe it was his sleepy eyes playing tricks on him, but he could swear he saw a white shape flash in the green wall of the forest on the other side of the road. He squinted to catch focus, and then froze, his heart racing.

And then, forgetting his hangover, he jumped off the porch.

#

She walked into the lake as she stood, not bothering to take the dress off, until the cool, velvety water enveloped her entirely.

She loved that moment of gliding between the planes, submerging herself until the smooth density of water pressed into ever inch of her skin; the one place where no one and nothing could bother her.

She never shared it with anyone, not even Gabrielle, but sometimes — sometimes she wished she could just stay there and not go back; there was something so soothing and comforting in this otherwise deadly element, something that put her under a spell, both enslaving and liberating, from everything, like the burdens she carried couldn't sink with her and kept floating on the surface instead, while she was diving deeper down and away.

She'd always been a good diver and loved to push her luck. She knew how long she could last, and how much time she needed to resurface before she ran out of air, but there was that part of her that would always push her to stay a second or two longer — a second or two that she knew could've made a difference. She couldn't help it; it thrilled her beyond reason.

She hit the surface, gasping for air, drunk with exhilaration, almost orgasmic.

Then she froze, thunderstruck at the sight of the silhouette jumping in the water.

She waited for him, let him swim up to her, let him catch her up in his arms, which he did so abruptly that it made her lightheaded and she had to wrap her arm around his neck to steady herself.

"It's okay, I got you," he breathed, pressing his face to her head in a way that made her whole chest flutter, making her feel so awkwardly helpless in his arms that she wanted to push him away.

"I'm fine," she said, although it was in fact quite the opposite; she'd been relatively well — before he appeared and made her heart and brain malfunction. Why the hell was he even here? Hadn't he said he was going to stay away now? "I was just catching a breath after resurfacing."

"Gods, you scared the shit out of me," he said, frowning, catching a breath.

"Ares, I wasn't drowning, I was diving," she said hastily, her heart leaping. When she realized that her hand, the one around his neck, was stroking the back of his head, she retracted it hastily, swaying back; he tightened his hold on her in response. She closed her eyes, trying to calm down her breath.

"Oh, is that the part when you disappear under water and wait till you drown?"

"It's called diving."

"Why the fuck would you do that anyway?"

"You'd need to try it to get it… Come, I'll show you."

"Thanks, Xena, but I don't think so; not that I haven't considered suicide, but drowning doesn't really do it for me."

"You don't know what you're missing."

"I know what I'm missing," he said, throwing her a glare and pulling her yet closer.

"Is that why you're stalking me?" she said lightly, to downplay the fluttering wave washing over her chest and stomach.

"You know how it is, old habits die hard; but if you wanna know the truth — I saw you in that dress and had to see it up close," he said with a face so serious that she laughed out.

"Let's go," she said when the urge to kiss him got so strong that she had to wriggle out of his arms. She needed to cool off; in fact, she should leave, she couldn't stay in his presence any longer.

With her both feet on the grassy shore, she squeezed the water out of her hair. She would've done the same with her dress, but it required taking it off, and she didn't want him to see her injuries.

She rolled the dress up her thigh, examining the bruises on her legs; they were more prominent now than before.

Her forehead creased in surprise when she saw how transparent the white dress was now when wet and clinging to her body like second skin. Grinning with sudden mischief, knowing his eyes were glued to her back, she felt like both letting the dress drop to the ground and keeping it on to tease him with how it now very clearly showed she had nothing underneath, both options making her temperature rise.

She glanced over her shoulder. He wasn't much of a swimmer, from the look of it. Well, it wasn't like he needed to, being a god.

Besides, he had other talents.

It annoyed her how the dress was so heavy with water so she decided to wring out at least parts of it. She would just do that, and then she would go.

He was steps behind her. With a sideway glance she saw that he started taking his pants off. Gods, she wasn't going to be able to take it much longer if she stayed here. The thought of him all wet and naked behind her made her sweat; the thought of his reaction if he saw how ready she was for him made her almost dizzy.

"So, now that you can see it up close — how do you like the dress?" she asked despite herself, still with her back to him. She heard him draw in a breath.

"I think it's a perfect fit," he said. "But to make a full evaluation, I think I need to see all of it," he added slowly, in a throaty voice that made her close her eyes.

He passed her by and collapsed on the grass in half-shadow, almost at her feet. He sprawled himself on his back, one hand tucked under his head, tiny beams of sunshine dotting his damp chest, the impossibly tight, wet linen enveloping him from waist down, making her throat dry.

"How about now?" she asked nonchalantly, reveling in the realization of how much more he was seeing now when the sun illuminated her from the back.

She reached down to continue wringing out the bottom part of the dress, rolling it up her thigh. "Is that enough for a full evaluation?" she asked, relishing the sight of how his already overly tight pants struggled to hold his growing arousal, the sight of it making her own arousal palpable on the sensitive skin where her inner thighs brushed against each other. She ached for him to see what his presence was doing to her, to have him feel it, marvel at it, taste it. The sudden thought of sitting on his face made her lower abdomen spasm so hard that she barely suppressed a moan.

"I've never seen anything more perfect than this," he replied, a throaty vibe to his voice.

"I'm glad to see you approve," she said, her eyes roaming over his delightfully massive approval, her knees pressing against each other, the slick skin brushing together.

It was insane how drugged he had her without even touching her.

She needed to find her waterskin.

And breathe.

Taking her time to locate the waterskin, she reached to pick it up from the ground, uncorked it and took a sip.

"Tell me it's water," he pleaded in a throaty voice of someone who'd been drinking for a week; which was in fact a very accurate description of him.

She walked up to him, knelt down by his side and suppressed a smile at how he just opened his mouth for it, not even lifting his head. She went on to squirt some water inside, careful not to make him choke, enjoying the way it made her feel, the simplicity of being with him like that.

"Don't stop," he half-begged, half-ordered; and she didn't. "You make me feel so good," he uttered, squinting his eyes at her once she quenched his thirst; and there was something so candid and disarming in the way he said it that she couldn't help herself — she leaned down and placed a soft, tender kiss on his forehead.

He purred with contentment, his hands finding her waist and pulling her down onto his chest until her head rested in the crook of his neck. Letting her muscles relax, she breathed him in; a blend of his scent and lake water, the heaviness of his arm pressing into her back; the only heaviness she felt at the moment. The one she didn't want to stop feeling.

And, despite her wild heartbeat, for the first time during their stay here, for the first time in his presence — everything felt just right.