CONTINUITY WEENIE: Continuity, my ass.
DISCLAIMERS: I ain't putting any more disclaimers on any Xena fic. The people who I normally would disclaimer to have through abuse and neglect abrogated any rights to the characters, on moral grounds if nothing else. Ren Pics can bite me for all I care.
READ THE TITLE: You have been warned. This little bitty story theoretically is supposed to lead into a very very long story which of course I will come to my senses and not bother writing. If I was going to write it then I would have to put a big explanation here how this little bitty story comes a day or two after "Changing Rooms", but since I'm not going to write the very very long story, twelve-page detailed outline and scene breakdown on my hard drive notwithstanding, I don't need to put in explanation after all.
Dharma Bum (dharmasbox@mail.com)
No more goddamn perkiness
Xena was thankful for the night.
"Look, Eve," she murmured softly to her daughter, pulling aside the blanket so that the baby could get a clear look at the sky. "Look at the moon. Isn't it beautiful?"
Eve laughed.
Xena laughed with her. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I am getting soft. And it's all your fault, you dreat big girl, you." She jiggled the baby, who laughed some more.
It was true, she was getting soft. She had more and more desire of late for these kind of long, peaceful hours, with nothing to worry about, nothing to fear. Everything seemed to be going right for a change. What would have happened if she hadn't gotten Hercules' message about the situation in Egypt in time? A wild-goose chase at best, and an unimaginable disaster at worst. Yes, her luck seemed to have changed for the better. "Is that due to you, too?" she asked Eve.
Eve beamed but remained quiet, her bright blue eyes searching her mother's face.
"Whatever. You know, Evie, life's just about perfect right now." Instead of more entanglement with the Romans, and more exposure to the increasingly paranoid and unstable gods, she had the peace of the night, the cool breeze rustling the treetops, and the far-off sounds of--
"I can't BELIEVE you would do this!"
Eve made a face. "Okay," Xena was forced to concede, "nothing's perfect."
"Do what? For gods' sakes, what is wrong with you?"
"Is this what you think? Is this really what you think?"
"Don't take that tone with me, you're being absolutely ridiculous!"
Xena suppressed a sigh and waited for the storm to blow over.
"So like maybe you want me to do this? You'd like it if I went off with--"
"Don't put words in my mouth! And do whatever you want, I don't care!"
"Well, neither do I! And maybe I will!"
"Fine!"
"Fine!"
This was followed up by a series of stamping and crashing-through-underbrush noises that would have done an entire herd of centaurs proud, and after a few moments Gabrielle came storming back into the clearing. Her expression was murderous, and she was carrying a rolled-up scroll as if it were a weapon. Without a word she walked by Xena to the supplies, where she crouched down and jammed the offending scroll into a saddlebag.
"Is everything all right?" Xena said.
"Fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Nothing's WRONG," Gabrielle snarled.
"Because it sounded like there was a small war going on over there."
"Everything's fine, Xena. Ignore it."
"At least we don't need to worry any more that Iphicles doesn't know we're on our way. He probably could hear you in Corinth."
Gabrielle spun around. "Xena, am I a 'sadistic bitch'?"
"Not generally, no."
"Xena, this is serious."
Xena sighed again. "What did you do?"
"What did I do? I didn't do anything. He's the one who got all worked up just because he has no appreciation for literature--"
"Eli's God, Gabrielle," Xena said sharply, "you let him read that story?"
"I asked him to read it."
"You gave it to him on purpose?" Xena spat out a noise that was half a curse, half a sigh. "Gabrielle, I really worry about you sometimes."
"What?"
"Well, considering the way it ended, did it ever occur to you he might be just a little upset with it?"
"It's fiction. It's stuff that didn't happen, that's the entire point." Gabrielle paced irritably around the fire, running a hand through her short-cropped blonde hair in an unconscious reflection of one of Joxer's habitual gestures.
"It may be fiction, but you took the liberty of using real people in it. As I pointed out to you earlier," Xena said rather more sharply.
"Oh, don't start that again. I said I was sorry."
"But you didn't learn your lesson, apparently. I mean, with me it was trivial, and with Eve, she's too young to understand. Probably. But with Joxer..." Xena's voice trailed off as she noted the stubborn set of Gabrielle's jaw, an all-too familiar expression. "Gabrielle," she said, more quietly and with much more urgency, "go talk to him."
"I have nothing to apologize for."
"I didn't say apologize, I just said go talk. Before this gets out of hand." Gabrielle didn't reply, and Xena said, "Life's too short. Wasn't that the point of your story?"
Gabrielle remained standing with her back to Xena for a few long seconds; then, without speaking, she strode back off into the woods. Xena let out a small sigh of relief and turned to Eve, who had been watching the entire thing with a somber expression on her small round face. "There," Xena told her. "Crisis averted."
Eve smiled broadly, content.
"At least we can still have crises." Xena winced. "That story. Yich."
Eve gurgled in agreement.
-----
Stifling a sigh, Gabrielle made her way down toward the river. Joxer wouldn't have gone far -- his pack and his armor were still in camp -- and the woods were really too thick to thrash around in except near the bank. Besides, when he sulked he liked to do it where people could see him and ask what was wrong. Even under the full moon, though, the slope was hard to navigate and choked with brambles, and Gabrielle scratched her legs and bumped into things and swore under her breath and had no patience at all left for Joxer and his damn moods by the time she finally reached the bank. She was fully prepared and more than willing to snap his stupid head off, and then she was going to go back to camp and he could sulk himself to death for all she cared.
But at the sight of him all thought of that fled. He sat curled up with knees to chest and arms wrapped around them, staring out over the water, an honest misery in the curve of his spine that she had rarely seen but recognized on sight. He twitched slightly at the sound of her approach but didn't look around as she slowed her steps cautiously. "Joxer?" she asked.
He didn't answer. She edged closer up to him and reached for his shoulder, then thought better of it and pulled her hand back. "Joxer, you okay?"
"'M fine." He didn't look around, and his voice was too quiet.
"I'm sorry," Gabrielle said inanely.
"Not your fault."
"I thought you'd like it."
"Like it?" His voice rose a little, and he started to turn toward her slightly. "How could you think--" Then he caught himself, and turned away again. "Whatever," he said in that same dull tone.
"Well, because you did all this great stuff," Gabrielle said, trying not to get defensive. "You found the scroll and saved us, and you had, y'know, the family and the restaurant and stuff, and, um, at the end...well, I thought it was kind of romantic, actually."
He roused again at this. "Kind of stupid, if you ask me."
Gabrielle lost her battle with defensiveness. "How is it stupid?" she snapped.
"Gods, Gabrielle!" He spun around to face her this time. "It's like you went out of your way to write it so that every single thing I ever wanted in my life I didn't get, and every single thing I didn't want to happen did, and then you're like, 'Oh, read this, I want you to see what you think.' Well, I don't think much of it, is all. Okay?"
Gabrielle had a sinking feeling of agreement. "Darn it, Joxer, I didn't mean it that way and you know it."
"I don't know what I know any more," he said and turned away again, his annoyingly pathetic demeanor making her feel worse.
She dropped into a squat behind him, trying to sort out her thoughts. "Joxer, I really didn't mean it to turn out the way it did. I just sort of got carried away as it went on. I have trouble writing stories, you know that, and I actually got this one all finished and everything, and I was kind of proud of it, and I... I guess I just didn't really think about how it would look, is all."
He was quiet for a moment. "It was a good story," he conceded grudgingly. "I mean, the parts that made sense anyway."
Gabrielle bit back the instinctive response. "Well, it could stand some rewriting, I guess."
He sighed. "I'm sorry I called it stupid."
"I'm sorry it made you upset." She patted his shoulder. He neither pulled away nor, as was habitual, tried to lean closer, and now she was getting upset herself, darn it. "If it makes you feel any better, Xena hated it too."
He twisted his head around, surprised. "No way."
"Oh, yes way. She said I made her look like a, what did she say...'weepy, clinging, brainless, self-centered fool'. Xena's always had a good turn with a phrase." Joxer snorted, and she added honestly, "And she hated the ending almost as much as you did."
"Really?"
"Yeah. She hated the way it turned out, and she hated that I didn't make her look sorry about it, either. She was really pretty mad for a day or so. Kept saying I should know her better by now."
"Yeah. I was wondering about that part. It was like she couldn't kick the body out of the way fast enough. I--" He was quiet for a minute. "Gabrielle, is that the way she feels? Really? Cause it's so hard to tell with Xena."
"No! No, not at all." Gabrielle slipped her arms around him. "That's why she was so mad. Heck, you should know her better by now, too." She leaned against his back and laid her head against his neck, a little surprised as always at how solid he was. He looked so weedy and insubstantial that when she touched him his physicality was even more surprising by contrast--of course, she very rarely touched him at all, except for that one time a few months ago when she had held him a lot like this, that time when--
"Gabrielle?" He twisted around in her arms, his voice high-pitched with distress. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." She buried her face in his neck for a moment, crushing the tears away. "Nothing, I just... Remembering, that's all."
"A bad time?" He slipped his arm tentatively around her waist.
"The worst." She breathed in his musky, familiar scent, trying to reassure herself and regain control and failing repeatedly for a few tense moments until she could speak again. "Joxer," she finally said.
He tightened his grip slightly, in a gentle and cautious hug. "So many bad things," he said softly. "I wish... I wish I could have helped. I never seem to do the right thing."
"You do help." She returned the hug fiercely, awkward as the uncomfortably twisted pose was. "You help by being there. What would I ever do without you?" She wriggled out of his grip and scrambled to her knees, rearranging herself to sit beside him. "That's what stories are for, to make the bad things go away. To make things right. A poet told me that when I was a little girl, and I always remember it every time I write. But some things... Joxer, if it ever came to that, if it ever came to the point where I didn't have you any more, and all I had were the stories... well, I wouldn't want to live to see that day."
After a moment he put the arm back and drew her close. This was not unpleasant. Gabrielle pressed herself up against his side and thought of nothing for a while.
"How do you feel?" she found herself asking.
"Happy."
"Everything's always so simple for you, isn't it?"
"Hmn?" He nestled his chin in her hair.
"First you're mad. Then you're upset. Then you're happy. Then, in five minutes, you'll be..."
"Well, that all depends." He tightened his grip a little.
"Don't," she said automatically but without anger, and he obligingly relaxed. "Joxer," she said when she could speak again, "don't worry about the story. It's just a story. I'll change it around maybe so it has made-up people in it, and then it won't upset anyone."
"Made-up people." He snorted. "Who's gonna believe about anybody like Xena or you, if they were made-up people?"
"Or you. You're pretty unbelievable yourself sometimes."
"I try."
-----
7/00, should have been 4