This list has been pretty comatose lately, and I got a bug up my butt
to write some Xena fanfic, so I figured I'd kill two birds with one
stone (what a violent phrase...) and post my creation. Just FYI, it
hasn't been beta'd, and the 'choppy' effect was intentional.

Escape
By Brianna N. Leuck
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Title: Escape
Author: Brianna N. Leuck
Email: xidestinyix@...
Category: Dark, Angst, H/C
Spoilers: Post FIN, so just about everything to
some small degree.
Season/Sequel: Post FIN
Rating: PG-13
Content Warnings: Sexual situations, violence.
Pairings: Gabrielle/Ares, Gabrielle/Other
Summary: All she wants... is an escape.
Status: Complete
Archive: Sure. Just drop me a line and a link.
Disclaimer: Don't own, just play. No copyright
infringement intended, and I don't get any
money from this, so please... don't sue!
Author's Notes: I blame this on my X:WP
depravation (stupid Oxygen!) and way too many
angsty songs in my playlist.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dark hair. Olive-toned skin. Eyes. Her
eyes. So blue, they look right through me. I
need her... but I can't have her. Others need her
now, more than I ever could; too many to condemn
for my own happiness. But oh, how I want to. How
I wish I could call her back. Make her mine
again.

It's building inside me again... the
release, the physical pleasure that can never
quite blind me to the pain. The man beneath me
like so many others. I can't bear to be with a
woman... they all seem to look like her when the
climax comes, but they never are her. I can't
handle the pain after. So I take the men, night
after night, just so I can close my eyes. And
not see her.

But she always comes back. Dawn comes,
and I must face her again. Her memory, my guilt.
I can't stop, but I can't go on this way much
longer. My grief consumes me too completely. I
fight it back, fight others to make it go away,
even for a few minutes, but it's just like her.
It always comes back.

I'm fighting them now; punching, kicking,
stabbing, slashing. They're falling much too
quickly anymore. Either I'm getting better, or
they're just getting worse. It doesn't really
matter which... the challenge is gone, and so is
my relief. The calm that descended after her
death, the numbness, has faded. So has her ghost.
The one tether to our love... Gone a little more
each day, until she was barely a whisper.

I lost her, and now I'm losing my mind. I
know it, I can feel it, but I can't stop it. I
don't even know if I want to stop it anymore...

Someone new. Better. The calm is coming
back, the respite growing thicker, until I can see
again. Truly see. I look up, to get a glimpse of
the one who could give me this gift, and I see
him, the familiar face. The specter from our
past. He knows. He knows I can't live without
the fighting. So he makes me fight... and I am
grateful.

Hours pass, perhaps days, in which we do
nothing but fight and sleep. He makes me eat
sometimes, but only so I can fight more. Harder.
I'm getting better, he tells me, but I can't bring
myself to care. Fighting him helps. I can hate
him, hurt him, but I can never defeat him. He is
the ultimate adversary.

Until one night, when we've fought so long
and hard I think my limbs might actually fall off,
he makes me cry. I'm not sure how I started, but
now I can't stop. He's holding me, cradling me
against his chest, and I can't stop. Sobs so
powerful they jostle my entire body. He holds me
tighter when I start to slip, aching to fall to my
knees and curl up into myself. Forces me to face
what I've been running from for so long.

I hate him even more then. Beating
against his chest, screaming between the sobs. He
doesn't even try to stop me. So I beat against
him, with palms and eventually with fists, and I
kick at his shins and knee him in the stomach...
but he doesn't let go.

I'm exhausted. I fall asleep against him,
fists grasping his vest. He lays down with me,
holds me against him through the night when the
all-too-familiar dreams plague me, and in the
morning, he wakes me gently -- more gently than I
thought possible for a god of war -- to make me
eat.

I don't know how long we've been here, on
this path to nowhere, fighting each other,
fighting the bands of thieves and raiders that
haunt the area. But as I eat, I realize the pain
has receded. It isn't gone... I know it will
never be gone. But I can breathe again. I suck
in the air, and the pain and guilt and horrible,
gut-wrenching grief stays locked inside my chest.
It doesn't race up to choke me.

I'm free. And I know he is why. Why the
food doesn't taste like ash, and my head doesn't
feel stuffed with soot. Why my heart is no longer
ten times too big for my ribs to hold, and
bleeding from the gash run into it when she told
me I couldn't save her this time.

But there is one 'why' I can't figure out.
Why did he help me? I stare at him, food
forgotten in favor of swordplay, and I know he can
feel it. He shrugs away the prick between his
shoulders that warns him he's being watched, but
he doesn't face me. It's like, suddenly, he
doesn't care. Where I was his whole world before,
now I am nothing. Invisible.

Then I realize... he doesn't know either.
He hates it, not knowing. Not understanding. I
go to him, rest my palms, my forehead, against his
bare back. And he drops his sword, a sigh echoing
out of him. I tell him it's okay, and kiss the
skin beneath my mouth. He turns, perhaps to argue
or deny, but ends up kissing me instead.

For once, the hands surrounding my face,
the lips pressed to mine, the tongue exploring my
mouth don't repulse me. They're not there to
forget; they're there to cherish. To remember.
We may only be links to her for each other, but
it's enough. For now, it's enough.

I've finally found my escape...


~Brianna