Joxer went into the almost-empty tavern and ordered a drink. As he sat there alone on his stool, drinking his ale, he reflected on the changes in his life in the last few years and wondered where it had all began.

After finally leaving home to make a name for himself and to get away from his family, his first plan was to follow his family profession, to become a mighty warrior. Having gathered some makeshift armour to cover his chest and head until he could afford something better, he acquired a sword that had definitely seen better days to go with his father's scabbard and tried to put into practise all the lessons of sword practice his father had tried to drill into him.

Unfortunately as a mighty warrior, he didn't quite make the grade and every attempt at fighting failed miserably, usually ending in him getting hurt with numerous bruises, cuts and grazes.

Finally, by luck, he chanced upon Xena, the Warrior Princess herself and her rather irritating companion and tried to convince he was worth taking into her army, but she turned him down flat, despite him slighty exaggerating his abilities.

Having met up with Callisto and been promised a place in her army if he could capture Xena's blonde companion, he'd failed again, but he'd been given one last chance to join her army, if he'd kill Xena's friend.

He smiled wistfully. Strange to think how often since he'd been the receiving end of her ire, yet for that one solitary moment, he'd been in complete control of his life and knew he couldn't take another's life, even if it meant achieving his life's ambition to become a warrior in a mighty army.

Ever since Xena had rescued him and Gabrielle, he'd tagged along with the two of them, and had felt like the gatecrasher at a private party. From time to time, he'd left them to seek adventure on his own, but he'd always return to the people he now called friends.

Though he didn't have many friends, he could be relied on to come to their aid, if he thought they were in any danger. He had come to realise that those skills he had, sadly did not include being a warrior, and so he did the best he could with what gifts the Gods had bestowed upon him.

It seemed painfully ironic that the woman he'd held the power of life and death over, was now the woman he wanted more than life, yet she'd only ever looked at him with disdain and scorn. Although he never said to anyone, when she wasn't there he missed her terribly, even though he always maintained a facade that hid his true feelings so well.

From the flash of anger in her eyes when he'd dropped another clanger, the concentration when she was writing her scrolls, to her enthusiasm and good nature, he knew her moods intimately, yet he also knew she did care for him a little, or else he wouldn't be allowed to travel with her and Xena.

He thought for a moment, pondering this curious conundrum. Perhaps it was something to do with them being kindred spirits, for though it seemed they were complete opposites on the outside, deep inside themselves they had the same principles, morals, purity, characters and personalities.

Funny, before he met Xena and Gabrielle, he'd just sort of drifted, wherever the wind blew him, no firm purpose in life, just moving on from one day to the next, it was a feeling that the world had gone on and left him behind, but nobody had told him.

So what was it about Gabrielle that held him in enthrall?

She was attractive, yes, but looks aren't everything;

she was a bard that could hold an audience spellbound, but other bards could do that;

she was an Amazon Queen, but there are other Amazons;

He shook his head, not fully understanding what it was that made him love the amazon bard with the green eyes with a silent passion that he knew would never be requited. Maybe the friendship between the three of them was something more than that, Gabrielle the focal point of a kind of bond; both loving her so, yet in two very different ways - Xena and her had been through so much together, through battles, bandits, personal loss and emotional pain; he'd been there to help her through some difficult times too, but he'd always kept his distance from her emotionally.

He remembered back over the last year, when he was travelling with Xena and Gabrielle and how he shared their adventures with them.

He chuckled at some of the memories; how he'd brought the whole Scythian Army to a standstill without shedding a single drop of blood, how he'd confused between Xena and her two lookalikes and had inadvertently chatted up Xena(and come incredibly close to death), and how he became the Apeman, swinging through the trees.

Heroes aren't everything they're made out to be, he thought sardonically, thinking back to the time when Aphrodite transformed him into her plaything, becoming the Hero he'd always wanted to be: dashing, eloquent, desired by women everywhere, agile, a brilliant swordsman, feared by the bad, loved by the good, yet despite all his best efforts, everything went pear-shaped as usual and he was left looking the fool.

His face visibly saddened at how when he finally realised he loved her, she laughed at the very idea and all his subtle hints and efforts to win her over were to no avail. He'd long since resigned himself to never winning her love and had settled for just being there for her if she ever needed someone to turn to.

When she jumped in the lavapit with Hope, he'd never felt so much utter despair, so completely helpless & unable to do anything about it. He'd have flung himself after her, if he thought it would have achieved anything, but the only useful purpose he could serve at that moment was to unite in grief with Xena and stop her doing anything rash.

When Xena and Gabrielle had gone off for a couple of months to India, he'd found himself at a loose end, but he found he kept looking looking down the road in hope of seeing his paramour and Xena walking back down the road, so he kept himself busy, helping out in villages he passed through, guarding a passing caravan, and performing in taverns with his lute.

He'd eventually gone back to his mother's house in Corinth for a week and inbetween doing chores and repairing leaks to the roof, talked to her at length on most subjects of his adventures since leaving home, bar one. Behind his tall tales and bravado, she could sense he was holding something back, so after some gentle prodding and further questioning, despite him hotly denying it, she could sense his deep passion for the bard with the Angel eyes and the pining for her she could see in his eyes.

With her advice still fresh in his mind, he decided to wait for Xena and Gabrielle by the port where their boat would berth. As much as he enjoyed watching the activity of the triremes, fishing boats and transport boats in the harbour, with all the boats loading and unloading goods and people, his stomach wasn't up to travelling by boat, or else breakfast and him parted company remarkably quickly.

His journey back from Corinth had been relatively free of incidents, apart from that time in a village when he'd mistaken a woman for Gabrielle, and his over-enthusiastic greeting had been met with surprise by the woman and considerably less enthusiasm by her boyfriend standing close by, and only his running ability had saved him from beaten to a pulp.

He'd been in the tavern since he returned from his visit to his mother, earlier that afternoon. A clean room and bath had been relatively expensive, but he'd been able to afford it with all the work and minstrelling done over the last few weeks. The journey back had been hot and dusty and the hot bath had been well worth the wait. The bath was soothing and relaxing and he forgot his troubles and worries, at least for a while.

After a short nap, he returned downstairs to the near-empty tavern and sat there pondering what to do next. Perhaps he was just fooling himself all this time- maybe he was merely in love with the idea of being in love. But if that was true, there were plenty of girls he could have fallen in love with, but hadn't; Meg, for instance, was an old friend, but he'd never felt the same way about her like he had about the Bard.

A clean break might be the answer to try and rid himself of this infatuation, but what would he do if he wasn't trying to be a warrior? There were several options that suggested themselves like farming, woodcarving and minstrelling, all of which were honest careers and he couldn't possibly be any worse at them than he was at being a warrior. He considered this carefully, for once thinking rationally, instead of emotionally as usual.

Did Gabrielle or Xena really need him? No

Did he need them? Only to watch his back

Was he any good as a Warrior? No

Did he love Gabrielle? Maybe, but a clean break could decide this one way or another

Did Gabrielle love him? No

Was it enough to stay with them, because they were his friends? Aye, there's the rub.

It was this last question he asked himself which made him unsure of which way to turn; An important crossroads, one which could define the rest of his life and not one to rush into impetuously. He ordered another drink from the barman and sat down again, trying to think clearly.

They were his friends and he theirs, but when you look at it, what did it all amount to, what did it really mean?

Well, they'd helped him out on numerous occasions, true enough, saved him from death in battles and skirmishes, repaired his countless wounds and patched him up for another day, but that was only on the outside; what about the inside, how did they treat his internal wounds, his feelings, his pride, his confidence, his self-belief? He thought back to all the times he'd been hurt by many a harsh word, looks of disappointment, exchanged glances that spoke volumes, unintentional slights against him - Was it worth it?

So had he helped them?

He'd stopped Xena from killing Gabrielle when she had the red mists hadn't he? Yes and no - he'd delayed her but even that wasn't enough to stop her, something else entirely had done that.

Had he helped Xena after Gabrielle's deathleap into the lavapits? Again, yes and no - he'd stopped her going on a mad killing spree, but she'd upped and left him to search for Gabrielle in the Underworld.

He'd brought down the Scythian Army in a single swoop, via his appalling culinary abilities, but no doubt they would have thought of something else as an alternative.

Indirectly, he had saved them from enemies, like when Callisto had Xena and Gabrielle trussed up like a Solstice goose, but his valiant charge had allowed Xena's Chackram to be free, before he was cut down by an arrow; he'd been a diversionary tactic, whilst Xena and Gabrielle hit their adversaries.

He shook his head in sadness at the conclusion he'd finally arrived at. No, Not really- all he was to them was at best a sidekick to a sidekick, someone to take the mick out of, someone they needed to rescue time after time but he couldn't do the same for them, he was a valve-release for pent up steam and aggression, a messenger boy.

He stood up, paid the barman for his drinks and gave him a few dinars for the other occupants of the tavern; So drink up all you people, order anything you see, have fun you happy people, the drink and the laugh's on me, he thought sardonically as he fetched his meagre belongings from his room. He left his makeshift armour and helmet behind; they'd never been any use to him and only made him a laughing stock.

He paused briefly, looking at the bits and pieces that had made up his protection - he never had got around to replacing them with proper armour, he smiled wryly. Oh well, he wouldn't need them anymore in whatever he did next and he left the tavern, heading for the open road. He saw a sole ship heading in, as he passed the harbour and waited for it to pull in, admiring the prow of the boat, as it easily rode the waves, leaving a wake behind it.

It pulled in to the harbour and was quickly secured to the quay. Just as Joxer made to go on his way again, he caught a glimpse of a shock of blonde hair on a female form and he wondered briefly, then shook his head. Naah, couldn't be. He turned away again, but heard a voice that stopped him in his tracks. The woman walked down the gangplank off the boat and she strode towards him, calling to him again.

He studied her for what seemed like an eternity, but was only an instant. It was her! Her appearance was changed, and she looked thinner, her face drawn and tired, but it was her all the same.

His mother's advice came flooding back to him: If you truly love this girl, be there for her, help her through the hard times, share the good times too, when the weight from her shoulders has been lifted, then tell her how you feel. But not before - she's been through too much.

He'd asked his mother how he would know when to speak, but she'd just smiled knowingly, saying that he'd know in himself when.She'd answered his greatest fear as well; If he didn't try, he would never know for sure and that would eat at him worse than rejection ever could.

He rushed forward to her, uttering a single cry, "Gabby!" as his bitterness melted away at the sight of her once more, gathering her up in his strong arms, embracing her like he would never ever let her go again. He set her down again, the joy in his face at seeing her again, clear to see. Xena and Argo were also on dry land at . As for Gabrielle, well, he could learn to be patient and see what happened over the months to come. As the saying so aptly put it, you've got to seek until you find or you'll never unwind, and he had finally found himself, what he could be and what he might be, and his friends would be there for him whatever he decided to do.

Please take the time to write to Jerry at studmuffin_jer@yahoo.com, and let him know how you liked the story!

COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER:
Xena: Warrior Princess, Xena, Gabrielle, Joxer, and all other characters who have appeared in the series, together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of StudiosUSA and Renaissance Pictures. The lyrics to "Angel Eyes" are owned by the appropriate copyright holders. No infringement of copyrights or trademarks is intended in the writing of this fan fiction. This story is copyright © 1999 by Jerry Hendy and is his sole property along with the story idea. This story cannot be sold or used for profit in any way. Copies of this story may be made for private use only and must include all disclaimers and copyright notices.