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Of medium height and build, with a grey cloak hooding her face and the rest of her body, the stranger paused lightly as the tavern keeper confronted her, her body stiffening in surprise at the sight of the empty inn. For a few moments, the figure remained stock still, as if by being motionless, she could escape the detection of some watching predator. The only movement came from her eyes as she tried to avoid the tavern keeper's questioning gaze. Cyrene took in her tension with a concerned frown as she waited patiently for the back door to open again. When it didn't, Cyrene's fingers lost their grip on the cup she was holding, sending it crashing to the floor. Startled green eyes came up to meet fearful blue ones.

"She's okay," the cloaked woman reassured Cyrene softly as she came over to help pick up the broken shards of the cup. "There was trouble down the road, and she went ahead to help. It shouldn't be too much for her. She'll be back soon."

Cyrene nodded faintly as she took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry I scared you." The apology was heartfelt as the young woman gathered up the edged pieces. The tavern keeper straightened, her usual stoic demeanor slipping itself back into place.

"Here, let me have that." She swept away the broken cup from the girl's hands and deposited its remains into the rubbish bin. The young woman watched her wordlessly, still kneeling on the floor. Cyrene blinked, shaking her head at the sodden state of her guest.

"By the name of Hestia, you're soaked through, Gabrielle! Don't just sit there; get out of that cloak immediately," she fussed as she pulled the girl to her feet. "I swear, I would think that you and that daughter of mine would have enough sense to get out of the rain!"

The young woman let Cyrene lead her to a table by the flickering hearth of the tavern. When the bard made no motion to remove her cloak, the tavern keeper peeled it off her and hung it on the back of her chair. The lines around Cyrene's mouth tightened with worry as her eyes took in the disheveled and slumped form. She did not like what she saw. The young face held a weary cast that was as clouded as the stormy sky above the inn. Lines ran taunt around the girl's mouth, accentuated by the shadows that flickered across her face. Worst of all, that brilliant fire in her eyes, the one that had flashed out so bravely and valiantly from the first time they had met, had been put out, leaving only ashes in its wake. The young woman who had so devotedly defended her daughter time and time again, against doubt, insanity, and even death itself, had disappeared, leaving only a pale, thin stranger in her place.

Cyrene cleared her throat uncertainly as her mind groped for something .. anything ...  to say. She had to get Gabrielle talking. She was painfully aware that she shouldn't have this problem, not with her. "Would you like a drink, Gabrielle? Some warm cider maybe?"

The bard nodded slowly, barely moving her head.

"So, how have things been going? Have you two run into anymore trouble since the last time you came around?" Cyrene wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer, but anything was better than this empty silence that shrouded the bard as securely as the cloak she had been wearing. Perhaps if she could get Gabrielle to tell her a story ...

"Xena handled it," the bard told her quietly. "Like she always does."

"I bet you helped, too," Cyrene smiled warmly, knowing full well that the young woman before her had been instrumental in so many of her daughter's escapades.

"Not this time." The smile was not returned as Gabrielle's eyes drifted to the floor.

"Gabrielle ... is everything okay?" Cyrene hesitated as her hands reached for the cider pitcher. "You and Xena didn't have a fight or something, did you? She didn't ... become ..." Her voice trailed off.

"No!" the bard blurted out. "No, she's been great. We're fine ... Xena's her usual warrior self. Nothing to worry about at all."

"What about you, though? You aren't yourself." Tired of dancing around the issue, Cyrene decided to cut to the heart of the matter. "Are *you* all right?"

"Yes." The bard studied her hands.

"Are you sure?" Cyrene pressed as she came back over to the table, a mug in each hand.

"Yeah," Gabrielle nodded, still not looking up. "Why do you ask?"

"Because my daughter is out there, having an adventure, and you're not by her side. Either Xena has gotten a lot better at convincing you to stay behind, or you've suddenly decided that you wanted to switch her company for that of a dour old woman ... but I doubt it's either," Cyrene guessed. There was a third option, but she refrained from asking.

The bard shook her head wryly. "I'm just ... tired. I'd be more of a hindrance than a help to Xena tonight, and we both know it. I don't want her to get ... hurt ... because I'm not performing at top notch."

"Well, then, you better get some rest," Cyrene told her firmly. "Otherwise you won't be able to join my daughter again ..." The tavern keeper's eyebrow rose in a unspoken question as she pushed Gabrielle's mug towards her. After a brief pause, Gabrielle nodded faintly as she reached for the drink and took a large swallow. She gasped and coughed as the potent liquid burned its way through her system.

"That's not cider!" she wheezed as Cyrene thumped her back.

"You bet your scrolls it's not! That's some of the best port I have in stock." The tavern keeper couldn't keep the edge of pride out of her voice. "You've been wet and cold, and there's nothing better to keep the chills away."

The bard nodded as she took another sip, more cautiously this time, and let the liquor trail its fiery warmth down her system. Her eyes closed briefly as she took another swallow, then another.

"Hey, go easy on that. It's strong stuff," Cyrene warned her. A sudden thought occurred to her as she watched the bard sway slightly. "Have you had dinner yet?"

"Nope." Gabrielle was looking a little more animated as she polished off the rest of the mug.

"Oh, by the gods, Gabrielle! Now Xena's going to think I'm not feeding her friends!" Cyrene threw her hands up in a exasperation. She began to push her chair back so she could head for the kitchen. The bard caught her arm before she could leave.

"No, thank you. That's not necessary. I'm not too hungry," Gabrielle informed her. "But I'd like another drink, please."

"Not on your life. Of all things ... drinking on an empty stomach!" Cyrene huffed, though her internal alarm was going off even louder now. Gabrielle wasn't hungry? Now she knew something was really wrong with the young woman. Her concern intensified, as did her pointed look to her friend.

"But I'm not hungry," the bard said forlornly, ducking her head out of the tavern keeper's piercing gaze. "I just want another port. You were right ... it does warm me up. I just need more." She shivered. "It's so cold inside ..." she whispered.

"If I give you another port, you'll probably pass out, and Xena won't be too happy with me." Cyrene tried to untangle herself from Gabrielle's grip.

"I would like that," the bard said to herself.

"What?!" Cyrene put her hands on her hips, eyebrows raised.

"Passing out ... sleeping," Gabrielle said solemnly as she carefully inspected the insides of her empty cup.

"Gabrielle ...?" Cyrene asked tentatively.

"Please? Just this once, just tonight. It's not like I drink this stuff often ... being drunk doesn't help your coordination with a staff, you know. But tonight, Xena doesn't need my help ..." Gabrielle held her mug out. The tavern keeper sighed as she took it and went back over to the bar. She was going to regret this, she was sure. Yet, if there was anybody who looked like she needed a drink tonight, it was Gabrielle.

[I should have never given her the first drink,] Cyrene thought in retrospect, but the bard had looked so chilled ...

"Thanks ..." Gabrielle said gratefully to the tavern keeper as she took another gulp, her eyes squinching shut at the burn. Cyrene watched in amazement as the bard finished off the second mug in a matter of moments and held it out again.

"Gabrielle ... I think you've had enough. Either you eat some food, or you get some sleep. Personally, I think you need both."

"Mmm ..." the bard considered. "I don't think I can handle either."

She glanced at her mug again, studying the empty bottom. Without another word, Cyrene pushed her own mug of port towards the Amazon and headed up to get another. Gabrielle had finished the third mug by the time she got there. The bard was coughing, and her eyes were watering, but there was an unnerving tint of clarity to her voice and gaze. However, experience had taught Cyrene that appearances could be deceiving. She sat down abruptly, handing the fourth port over and prepared to catch the bard once she keeled over. However, Gabrielle did not down this one as expected, but just sat there, staring at the deep ruby liquid as she swirled it around.

"Funny, but it's not helping. It's supposed to help, right? I'm supposed to be feeling warm ... and it's not supposed to hurt as much now, right?" Gabrielle mumbled softly. "It's all supposed to go away."

She studied her fingers again. "But why do I still feel the dagger in my hands? And why does *she* still haunt me ...? Oh Hope ... my hope ..." Gabrielle fell silent as her fingers traced the cup's rim again and again.

Cyrene held back her questions and her words at the bard's puzzling statements. Being a tavern keeper had taught her the value of just listening and letting her customers take the lead in a conversation. However, even though she wanted to learn just what had happened to dampen Gabrielle's bright spirit, her conscience knew that gaining the information this way could end up hurting the bard rather than healing her.

"Gabrielle, you're getting drunk. You said that you were tired. I think you need some rest before you end up saying things you might regret later on ..." Cyrene began gently.

"I don't think there's any more room for regret in me," the bard told her, shrugging. "I've used up my share."

"What? I don't understand." Startled by this strange remark, Cyrene threw her caution to the winds. The young woman before her meant too much to her and her daughter to worry about manners. Unscrupulous as it might be, she needed to find out what was bothering the bard and provide any comfort she could. "Gabrielle, what happened?"

"I killed someone." She said it in a matter-of-fact voice, as if commenting about the weather. There were no tears, no dramatics. Just a simple tone of resignation and acceptance ... Cyrene could almost believe that she had misheard the bard. Gabrielle had to be joking. She couldn't have killed someone. Not her! Yet, there was something in the way Gabrielle held herself, a slight cringing of her body that spoke of the deep pain and bewilderment that still burned in the young woman's heart. With a sinking heart, Cyrene knew that what she had said was true.

"Oh ...Gabrielle ..." The tavern keeper's soul ached for the lost innocence before her. So that was it. The puzzle pieces began to click into place. However, Cyrene could sense that there was something else troubling the bard ... a missing piece that broke up the whole picture. "I'm sure it was an accident ..."

"That's what she said," Gabrielle informed her with a humorless laugh. "But nope, it was just me. I murdered someone ..."

"Self defense!" Cyrene insisted hotly, as her mind groped for an explanation. There had to be one, there just had to be. The bard blinked at her owlishly, and a slight bemused grin slipped onto her face.

"You *are* mother and daughter." Gabrielle shook her head. "I wasn't in danger at the time. Khrafstar ..." Her hands tightened around the cup, and the liquid shivered inside it, forming rapid waves that threatened to overspill the edges. "I could've ... should've ... I protected a demon spawn. It seems like I've been doing that a lot, lately."

Cyrene's mind retraced over Gabrielle's stumbling words, trying to make sense of what the bard had said. "Protected ... you killed protecting someone, didn't you?"

"A demon. I protected a demon and gave him entrance to our world. The essence of evil and darkness himself!" Gabrielle said, her voice slipping from its unnervingly calm cadence to assume a slightly hysterical pitch. "I sacrificed my blood innocence for his disciple, and maybe ... my soul ... for his child ... but she's not ... she's NOT!" The liquor jumped over the edges of the cup as her hands shook violently, staining the wood of the table a dark wine red. Gabrielle stared at the wet table, her face crumpling in remorse. "I'm sorry ..."

"Don't worry about it. These old tables have seen worse than this. It'll clean up easily ..." Cyrene grabbed her apron and began mopping at the liquid. She took Gabrielle's trembling hands and wiped the liquid off them as well. "See now? No harm done ... it's all gone ..."

"It's not that easy to clean off." Gabrielle was staring at her hands, still tinged slightly pink from the port. "It's not ..." she repeated. "I washed and I washed, but it wouldn't come off ..."

"I don't understand." Cyrene grabbed Gabrielle's shoulders forcing the green eyes focus to on her. "I need to understand ...please ..." she insisted, not loosening her grip until the bard nodded.

"We went to Britannia, with Khrafstar ..." Again Gabrielle shuddered, but the words kept tumbling from her, as if desperate to get out from their hiding place. "And he told me all about his one god, and I believed he was good, I really did ... so when Xena saved his temple, I asked to be included in his rites ... but it wasn't a good god, it was evil, and they tied him up on the altar. They wanted to sacrifice him, and Meridian had this dagger and was about to kill him, but I broke free and I ... I grabbed the dagger from her and I s-stabbed her, hard. There was blood everywhere. So much of it ...it covered my hands. Then Khrafstar laughed at me, and told me I had let Dahak, god of darkness, into our world ... then the circle closed in. Then Xena came in ... and I told her I killed Meridian and she just looked at me ... and I knew I had done something very, very bad ... but she still held me, regardless ... I don't know what I would have done if she hadn't been there ... she really tried to make things better, but not even she can bring Meridian back to life ..." the bard gasped, losing all semblance of composure.

For a brief moment, Gabrielle crumbled in on herself as if trying to hold back her grief. Tears escaped her eyes almost frantically. To girl's surprise, Cyrene welcomed them as she pulled young woman close and coaxed her out of her frightened, balled state. She rocked her back and forth like she had done with all three of her children when they had been hurt or frightened.

"Let it out, Gabrielle. Just let it go. It's going to be okay ..." she soothed. The bard's jumbled narrative had disturbed her more than the story itself. Gabrielle was usually so careful with her words. It was as if the bard had yet to sort out all the facts herself. "It's over now."

The bard pulled away, refusing the comfort, though her eyes spoke how much she needed it. "I was supposed to be the one that stopped the cycle of hatred ... and I didn't. I killed. Not in self defense, nor in accident ... I murdered another human being ... and I knew full well what I was doing ..."

"You did it to protect someone. That's what makes the difference. He was your friend ... or at least, he seemed to be. You saw he was in danger, and you acted. There was no other way. You would've been killed next." Cyrene insisted.

"It doesn't matter ..."

"It does. Ask yourself this, then. If that ... man ... hadn't been in danger ... would you have killed then? You wouldn't have lost your blood innocence for less than that ... you were *protecting* someone who couldn't protect himself."

"I was wrong about him!" Gabrielle spat out bitterly. "He was a demon ..."

"You couldn't have known that. You were tricked," Cyrene insisted.

"I should have known!" the bard stated flatly. "Xena's always telling me not to trust everyone ..."

"It may work well for Xena ... but that's not you, Gabrielle. You made a mistake, an honest one."

"One that cost someone her life." Gabrielle's eyes were haunted as she unconsciously wiped her hands repeatedly against her skirt. Cyrene reached over and firmly seized her hands.

"You're human, Gabrielle. Stop hating yourself for that. What makes you think that you can avoid doing something that *any* of us, be it warlord or innocent babe, would have done instinctively in that situation? " Cyrene grabbed the bard's face, forcing her to look up. "Look, you have to work through this instead of just saying you did something wrong. Fine. So you killed. Nobody can change that. Now what? Are you going to learn from it? Have you even asked yourself WHY you killed? Or the consequences if you hadn't done anything? Even if you hadn't killed Meridian, you would have lost. Blood innocence comes in many forms, not just the kind that spills with a killing." The tavern keeper sighed heavily as she regarded her young friend.

"You still define the world in absolutes ... and frankly, it doesn't work that way. Things don't always come in black or white, good or evil. Most of the time, it comes in shades of grey. What you did was neither wrong or right ... you just did what you had to. They set you up, Gabrielle. Kill or be killed ... and not only that, but kill or watch someone you consider to be your friend be killed ... either way, they claim your innocence. Your code dictates that you never take a life ... but it also says you must give help to those who need it if you can ... they caught you between that. There wasn't an easy answer, no quick fix. What if Khrafstar *hadn't* been evil? Was preserving your blood innocence worth the price of an innocent life?" Cyrene held Gabrielle tightly, forcing her to listen. "If you hadn't tried to save him, you would still feel guilty ... and it would still eat you up inside. You didn't further the cycle of hatred ... you did your best so stop it. I know this, you know this, and Xena does, too ... you'll see one day. It'll get better. At least you're safe and alive ..."

"It would've been easier if I had died," the bard said softly. "It wouldn't hurt anymore ..."

Cyrene slammed her hands against the table. By all the holy gods on Olympus, the girl STILL did not understand! Startled, Gabrielle cowered away from her. However, the tavern keeper would not be stopped as she confronted the young bard, glaring at her from a pair of icy blue eyes that ran so true in her family.

"How could you say that?" she declared furiously. "That's the coward's way out, and I know you're not a coward, Gabrielle. I've watched you face down my daughter's darkness ... what makes you think that you won't be able to do the same with yourself? You're no worse nor better than she is ... than any of us are. Just because you've lost your blood innocence doesn't mean that you should throw your life away! It would NOT be better if you were dead, and I DON'T want you EVER saying that again, not in my presence ... and NOT EVER in my daughter's presence! It's not just about you, you know!" Cyrene snapped, fearful at the despondency in the young woman's eyes. "Don't you know what would happen if you ..." she stopped, unable to go on as the green eyes before her filled with remorse.

"I know I've hurt her ... and that's the worst thing of all," Gabrielle painfully admitted, her shoulders shaking slightly. "She was so good to me, even after I lost my blood innocence. But if I died ... at least she'd remember me as a good person ... at least evil wouldn't have been unleashed ..." Gabrielle said dully. "And at least I wouldn't hurt her anymore ... Xena's going to hate me once she finds out what I did."

"What?! You ARE drunk, to be spewing nonsense like this," Cyrene said angrily. "My daughter could never hate you ..."

"That's cause she doesn't know. I wouldn't blame her. You would hate me, too, if you knew," Gabrielle mumbled as she looked to the ground again.

"What doesn't Xena know?" Cyrene looked at her, anger dissolving into curiosity. Gabrielle looked at her, alarmed. "Gabrielle, come on. You know you can trust me. You've gotten this far ..." She stopped as a thought dawned on her. "But if you feel more comfortable talking to Xena ..."

"NO! I can't tell Xena ..." Gabrielle's breathing quickened as she shook her head emphatically and backed away. The terror on her face was heartbreaking to see. "She'll leave me ..."

"Why? What did you do that would make her consider that?" Cyrene demanded, refusing to give quarter. "What's going on, Gabrielle? There's something more, isn't there?"

"You wouldn't understand." Gabrielle hid her face.

"I will if you tell me."

"I can't. I didn't even tell Xena ..." The bard's hands clenched together. "It hurts so much, to keep it inside, but I can't tell her. And I can't tell you."

"A secret, then, huh?" Cyrene looked at Gabrielle awkwardly. "I've been known to keep a few of my own, you know. And it's caused me nothing but trouble. Secrets like that tend to get heavier and heavier ... until it comes back to hurt you and the ones you love." She waited as Gabrielle's head came up to meet her eyes. The bard bit her lip as she studied the tavern keeper before her.

"You'd understand that part at least, wouldn't you?" Gabrielle murmured as she came to a decision. She drank the remaining liquid from the cup and set it before her, as if presenting it like a shield.

"I became pregnant right after the temple incident ... I don't know how, but I had a child. I don't know where she came from, or who she was, but she was just so beautiful. So perfect. She restored my hope in the world ... so that's what I named her. Hope. In a way, I could forgive myself for killing Meridian when I looked at her. She was the bright spot in all the chaos that was around me, proof that good could come out of evil. After I killed Meridian and was ... taken ... by Dahak ... I thought ... I thought that I was the ultimate evil. All my dreams of finally conquering the darkness ... it came to nothing. I had been deceiving myself. But then ... when I saw her ... life had meaning again. I thought that there was still a chance for the future, if something as beautiful as Hope could come out of me. She was everything I had lost ... a new innocence, untouched by evil. But Xena said that she was Dahak's child, that she had to be killed. She didn't see Hope like I did." Gabrielle's eyes were anguished, though her voice remained steady. There was no turning back now.

"She said that my Hope would bring unspeakable darkness to the land. But I couldn't let her kill Hope. I just couldn't. So I lied to her and told her that I had destroyed my beautiful child ... and she believed me. I don't know where Hope is now, though I pray she's safe. It was the only way I could protect her ... I had to give her up ... and I had to deceive Xena to do it." The bard trembled. "Once, I would have rather died instead of telling a lie to her. Now I would die to preserve that lie."

Gabrielle closed her eyes. "She trusts me so much ... and I betrayed that. It's always been her most precious gift to me. Now I have to go on, day after day, watching her believe in me though I know I don't deserve it. She still tries to carry on like nothing's changed ... and I'm both grateful and terrified about it." The bard took a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

"I don't want to hurt her, but the scary thing is that it would be so easy to. She's almost blind when it comes to me ... and that worries me more than anything else. You have to believe me ... I don't want to hurt her," Gabrielle pleaded again. "Yet I would lie to Xena again if I had to ... I would do anything to protect Hope ... anything." Her eyes lost focus for a moment. "It kinda scares me to know how much love I have for her, my Hope ..." Her tone firmed. "Xena was wrong ... How could killing Hope stop the cycle? It would just add more death upon death. Killing can't be right ... it's never right ... No ... Xena *has* to be wrong. Hope can't be evil. Even though ..."

"Even though?" Cyrene pressed gently.

"I don't know where she came from ..." the bard repeated to herself softly, eyes averted from the tavern keeper. "What if ..." Her voice drifted away again.

"Gabrielle?" Cyrene waited as the bard rocked back and forth in her chair, eyes staring at nothing. She moved closer, wanting to provide comfort, but not sure how to give it.

"What if Xena *was* right?" Gabrielle whispered, so softly that if Cyrene hadn't been bent over the bard, she wouldn't have caught it. It was as if Gabrielle didn't want to hear herself say those words. "What if I've continued the cycle? What if I've betrayed our trust for nothing ...?"

"Gabrielle ..." Cyrene put a hand on her shoulder.

The bard pushed the tavern keeper away. "Everything's changed. It'll never be all right again ... You can't know what it's like ... I don't know what scares me more ... Xena finding out that I lied about Hope ... or finding that Xena was right about her ... you don't understand." She took a deep breath, steeling herself for her next words. "What if Hope turns out to be evil? The blood of millions of innocents could be on my hands. You can't know the burden of that ..."

"I can't?" The innkeeper's voice was hard as she stood up, posture erect.

"How could you?" the bard retorted.

"You're not the only one who's ever lost her blood innocence. Tell me this ... should I have let Atrius kill Xena? Did my daughter deserve a chance to live?" Cyrene asked, arms folded.

The question threw Gabrielle off guard, distracting her from her own troubles. "What?"

"Have you forgotten so fast? I killed Atrius before he could kill Xena. I lost my blood innocence then, and I did it in a way that was worse than yours ... I killed someone I knew, someone I'd shared my life and house with, someone that I was sworn to be devoted to." The tavern keeper's voice was defiant, daring Gabrielle to say something to the contrary. "He had heard something so horrible at Ares' temple that it enraged him to a point where he would murder our daughter ... if I had let him, that is. It was a conscious decision, Gabrielle ... more so than yours. I could have stood by easily, and no one would have blamed me. My life wasn't even at stake. But I couldn't. Like you, I had to do it ... had to kill him to protect another life ... one that later became a blood-thirsty warlord who killed hundreds of innocent people and destroyed thousands of lives in the process."

"But Xena's not a blood-thirsty warlord ... she's a hero now ..." Gabrielle defended her friend automatically.

"That's only been true for these last two years, and if you look at it from your point of view, I'm just as guilty as she is in all that killing. I, too, have the blood of innocents upon my hands. I killed protecting her ... and she turned out to be the spawn of Tartarus itself, or so I thought, for the longest time." Cyrene shrugged. "Even without that, by your standards, I'm a monster for just killing, even if it was to protect someone ... you probably think that I *should* have let Atrius kill Xena ..."

"NO!" Gabrielle exclaimed vehemently. "Xena deserved to live! You did the right thing." she gulped. "Even if you had to kill to protect her. She was an innocent then. She didn't deserve to die! Besides Xena's not a demon! She never was. She just lost her way for awhile. You can't take the blame for her past ... it was something you didn't have any control over. You couldn't have known that Xena would be a warlord." Gabrielle paused, aware of what she was saying. "Not like me ... I knew the probable risks but I still did it. I still saved her ... though I *knew* that she could be ..." She broke off, her fingers fumbling around themselves.

"I knew the risks, too. I thought it odd, that Atrius could come back that night, so suddenly. And then when he tried to do what he did ... he wasn't the best husband or father, or even a really good man. But still ... I knew that he must have heard something terrible about Xena to have acted in the a way as he did... I've always wondered just what he had heard that night ... if he had been trying to stop Xena from becoming a warlord ..." Cyrene came to stand behind the bard, eyes compassionate. "I can't tell you if your decision was right or wrong. I can't say that you won't look back and hate yourself for what you did or that your pain and guilt will go away one day. I can only say that you acted from your heart, and you did what you thought was right. You can't blame yourself for that. For better or for worse, we're dictated to act by our natures. You don't know for certain about Hope, like I didn't know about Xena. You gave her a chance ... to be both good or evil. That's the most important thing ... because even evil deserves a chance to show its true nature before you cut it down ... otherwise, you can't call it evil ..."

"But what will happen if Xena finds out?" Gabrielle's eyes were those of a lost child, begging for reassurance that Cyrene could not give.

"I don't know," the tavern keeper sighed. "Like I said, secrets cause trouble. But no matter what, you acted with you heart. You have to trust Xena to know that ..."

"But what if my heart was wrong ...?" Gabrielle whispered, voicing her deepest fear. "I can't even trust myself anymore ..." Her voice trailed off, leaving them both shuddering unconsciously. The silence stretched long between them as their thoughts wandered, one to a possible future, and the other to the unchangeable past.

"Cyrene, do you ever regret your decision about Xena? If you knew beyond a doubt what she would do, what she would become ... would you have let Atrius kill her, to spare the lives of the innocents she's killed?" Gabrielle asked at last, her eyes finally going up to meet those of the tavern keeper.

"Do you regret sparing Hope?" Cyrene countered the question with another one. For innumerable beats of the rain upon the roof, the two women stood frozen, waiting for the other's reaction.

"I just keep hoping that she'll be good," Gabrielle finally murmured, not looking up nor down, but gazing ahead, to something unseen.

"Then you have your answer ..."

"Slow night, isn't it, Mother?" the figure asked as she removed her grey cloak. Cyrene took it wordlessly and hung it up to dry as the other woman walked to where her young friend was sleeping peacefully, face pillowed on her arms. A soft blanket had been draped over her shoulders, and her chair had been slightly turned so that it faced the warmth of the fire. The figure paused beside the young woman and her hand brushed over the golden hair slightly.

"You got her to sleep ..." There was a note of relief in her voice. "She hasn't been doing much of that lately ..." The trace of tension in the warrior's stance denoted that she hadn't been getting much rest either, perhaps due to the same reason.

"She had four cups of our best port. I doubt she'll wake until morning." Cyrene spoke up in a hushed voice. At the warrior's annoyed glare, the tavern keeper shrugged. "She looked like she needed it."

Xena's expression saddened in acknowledgment as she tucked the blanket further up on the young woman's form.

"Did she talk to you ?" she asked, hesitantly hopeful. "She says she's okay, but I know there's something bothering her. It's not like her to actually listen to me when I tell her to go ahead. Usually, I'd have to tie her down to make her stay away ..." For a breath, her voice changed slightly, becoming almost plaintive in tone. "I can't help her if she won't tell me ..."

Cyrene paused, but the bard's secrets was not for her to give. She only hoped that Gabrielle would tell Xena in her own time ... if she ever did.

"A little, but ... Xena, she's exhausted and more than a little drunk. She just needs some rest, I think." Cyrene watched the sorrow deepen on her daughter's face as the warrior bent to pick up the smaller woman.

"We better get her into bed then ..." Xena said softly, and despite herself, a slight, affectionate smile flitted across her face as she regarded her burden. "That is, if you'll put us up for the night?"

"Always," Cyrene said firmly, eyes catching those of her daughter's. "Xena?" she said suddenly.

"Yes?" The other woman turned mid-stride, waiting.

"I don't ..." The tavern keeper stopped, unsure of what to say. "Go on. Put her to bed, and then get some sleep yourself," she advised firmly as she turned away to bar the back door of the tavern. Xena stood still a moment longer, watching her mother's back. Then, finally feeling the weight of her companion, she headed for the stairs.

Cyrene waited until the last footfall had faded away before she turned around again, her eyes straying to the inn's windows. The tavern had become unbearably silent again; the only sound that could be heard was the echo of the raindrops upon the roof. She looked to the stairs again, then back to the darkened windows, before putting out the oil lamps and finally heading up herself. It had been a long day.
 

 Butterfly by Sculder
 

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