CAST OF CHARACTERS:

Joxer, the Mighty
Epoch, a Wizard
Disgruntled Guardian of Time
Gabrielle, a Bard
Xena, the Warrior Princess
Old crone
Various villagers, soldiers, bandits, and travelers

Rating: PG-13 (Standard Xena Violence, Adult Language)
Quick summary: Joxer is transported fifty years into the future and is confronted with a moral dilemma.
Possible Spoilers: for any and all Joxer episodes up to this point, plus minor spoilers for A Good Day, Crusader, and Past Imperfect.
Genre: Drama/Adventure

Prologue

The long train of peasants extended as far as his eyes could see down the gorgeous green hill. Shaking his head, the strangely armored young man stepped in front of a large, plate-mail armored soldier, his hand held out to signal a halt. The leader halted his march, waving his hand above his head to halt the advance of the slave train. Behind the gruff muscular leader, spread throughout the long train, four chain-mail armored soldiers kept their newly acquired slaves in order.

"That's far enough!" the young warrior ordered with a nervous intensity. "I am Joxer, the Mighty, and I, uh, well--" His voice trailed off as he noticed the armored leader's hand gripping the hilt of his sheathed blade. Unsheathing his own sword, Joxer lifted the tip of the blade up to the leader's neck. "I am here to free these people."

"Oh really?" the leader asked, ignoring Joxer's blade and lightly rubbing his sword's hilt.

"Yeah, really," Joxer replied, his chin lifted haughtily.

"Get him, boys!" the leader ordered as he stepped back from Joxer's weapon.

As the first of the chain-mail armored soldiers rushed at him, sword unsheathed, Joxer swung his blade in a wide defensive arc, the tip of the blade nicking the soldier in his unprotected face as the blade sliced past.

"Ha ha!" Joxer exclaimed as the attacker halted his rush.

The soldier placed his hand over the cut on his cheek to halt the flow of blood; realizing it was only a small nick, the man shook his head and continued his rush.

Joxer backed up a couple of steps to the edge of the steep drop-off from the crest of the hill. As the first attacker jabbed with his blade, Joxer clumsily dodged to the side, tripping on a small grey rock--his sword flying over the break of the hill. The attacker halted his forward momentum, spinning to face his victim. Joxer, lying face-down in the grass, tilted his head to watch the advance of the attacker.

Standing over his victim, sword tip pointed towards the center of Joxer's back, the soldier laughed. "This will teach you to interfere in other people's business." Both hands on the hilt, the soldier stabbed downwards.

As the blade plummeted towards his back, Joxer glanced to his side and made a quick decision. Rolling his body awkwardly sideways, he gulped as he heard the soldier's blade plunk into the earth as he dropped over the break of the hill. Trying to keep calm, he rolled roughly down the hill, his body smarting from various rocks, stumps, and other debris in his path. As his roll finally slowed, he halted it with outstretched arms. Pulling himself slowly to his feet, his body aching all over, he managed a grim smile. Glancing around, he realized that he rolled nearly halfway down the long slope. He spotted his self-pounded helmet near the top of the slope. He also spotted a glint of sunlight reflecting off of steel near his helmet, and realized it was his sword, lying in the grass.

At the top of the hill, three of the soldiers stared down the hill at him. Within a few seconds, the fourth stepped up to the break beside his companions. The plate-mail armored leader towered over his men as he stepped up behind them.

"Get the fool!" he ordered.

"B-but sir, the slope--" The man halted his protest as he felt a large metal tipped boot pounding into the center of his back. Tumbling down the hill, head over heels, the man screamed as he noticed the large obstacle in his path.

As the first soldier failed in his urgent effort to halt his tumble, Joxer grimaced as he heard the loud crack of skull on boulder. "Ouch. Bad luck." He turned his attention back to the top of the hill where the other three soldiers were carefully trying to walk down the slope.

Glancing down at his feet, Joxer noticed a small pile of rocks a few steps away. As the men straddled the slope carefully and advanced slowly towards him, he picked up a few rocks and flung them at his attackers. While most missed the mark by a long shot--one flying over the crest of the slope and hitting one of the peasants, judging by a scream of pain--one of the rocks was a direct hit; the unlucky soldier dropped instantly to the grass as the rock smacked him in the forehead. Unconscious, blood dripping from his head, the soldier rolled down the hill past Joxer and finally came to a rest at the lower break.

A command of "Get him now, you idiots!" urged the other two men into action.

The first man made the mistake of trying to run down the steep slope, and as he picked up speed with each step, he realized that if he attempted to stop, he would likely pay a high price.

Joxer laughed haughtily as the man ran right past him down the hill. He turned his attention to the last man, who was smart enough to continue his slow advance.

As the last soldier approached him, Joxer glanced at the crest of the hill. With a grin, he watched as the leader flew forwards over the break, a large crowd of peasants having taken advantage of the distraction to push him over the edge. A loud cheer followed the leader as he tumbled down the hill, straight towards his man.

With a loud collision of plate-mail on chain-mail--and a scream of frustration from each man--the leader and his last man tumbled down the hill past Joxer, in a tangle of limbs and swords. At the bottom of the hill, the man who had run down the slope was attempting to climb back up, crawling on his hands and knees. As a loud jangle of noise approached him, he looked up curiously in time to see a metal tipped boot flying into his face.

Joxer stared down at the tangle of men, sheathing his. He wiped his sweating brow and shook his head in amazement. "Let that be a lesson to you all!" he called. "Don't ever mess with Joxer, the Dangerous!"

Climbing slowly up the hill, breathing heavily from the exertion--and grabbing his helmet and sword on the way--Joxer took a deep breath of relief as he reached the crest. At the top, he was greeted with a loud cheer.

"Joxer the Mighty!" they screamed, many of the peasants slapping him on the back as he slowly wandered through the mob. Muttered thank-you's greeted him constantly, and he couldn't resist the huge grin forming on his lips.

"It was nothing!" he exclaimed, as modestly as he could.

After a particularly solid slap on his back by a large woman, Joxer muttered, "Uh, please, no pats on the back! I'm a little sore." After a mumbled apology, the large woman vanished from his sight as he was swallowed into the happy crowd.

"Kind sir!" a raspy voice called to him from the outer edge of the circle of peasants.

Joxer forced his way through the crowd towards the voice, his body aching from his exploits on the hillside and the hands touching him and hitting him in congratulations. He breathed a sigh of relief as he finally stepped out into the open.

"Would you like me to read your fortune, to pay you for your brave deed here today?" a grey haired old woman asked him as she stepped in front of his free path.

"Umm, sure," Joxer replied with a shrug as he stopped, smiling proudly.

The old crone stared into his eyes, her lips curling in a smile. "I see two women, fighting for your affections," she said, winking at him slyly.

Joxer grinned, nodding his head. "Please continue."

"No wait! Three women," the crone corrected. "But two of them were created from the same mold. Black hair; blue eyes."

Joxer's grin vanished and his eyes widened. "So, two of them look the same, right?"

"Yes," the fortune teller confirmed.

"Wow. How could you--" He halted his question as the crone shook her head.

"You know of whom I speak?" she asked.

"Yes, Xena and Meg. They are twins, but not really twins. Long story. Anyway, I can't really see Xena fighting for my affections." His chin lifted as he considered the crone's words. "But, then again, I am Joxer the Mighty. Irresistible to women." The woman shook her head again and rolled her green eyes. He shrugged his shoulders, grinning guiltily. "And the third is, uh, Gabrielle?" he asked hopefully.

"I do not know names, but she is beautiful, more so even than the other two women. Blonde hair; Green eyes."

Joxer grinned. "You're good!" he exclaimed.

The fortune teller smiled briefly. "I'm sure there is more I can see yet." She closed her eyes, her head bobbing up and down. Suddenly, with a short cry of surprise, her body shuddered. "But wait, something is wrong."

"What?" Joxer demanded. "What is it?"

The old women took a deep calming breath before staring him in the eyes. "They are standing over a stone tablet. It reads 'Here lies Joxer the Lionhearted, a Mighty warrior.'"

Joxer's jaw dropped. "M-m-my grave?"

The crone closed her eyes and reluctantly nodded her head. "Here, take this," she said, pulling a small pendant from the pack hanging from her shoulder. She dropped it into Joxer's outstretched palm. "You will need this very soon. Rub it when you are in need of good luck."

Joxer examined the small silver hourglass shaped pendant; it was attached to a short gold chain. "Wh-what does this do?" he asked.

"You'll see. Now go!" she ordered with surprising fierceness. "These bandits will not be down for long."

"B-b-but, th-the vision of my death?" Joxer stammered.

"I can see no more."

"You can't just leave me hanging like that," he protested.

"I can see no more!" she replied angrily.

"Oh, all right," he muttered reluctantly as he took a cautious step backwards. Sliding the necklace chain over his head to let the hourglass pendant hang from his neck--lightly brushing his flesh as it swung in the breeze--he muttered, "Thank you, I guess."

"We'll keep them down there for a while," one man said as Joxer prepared to leave, hurling a rock down towards the now conscious soldiers.

"Thank you, good people! It was my honor to serve you."

With loud cheers of "Joxer the Mighty!" following him, Joxer marched down the grassy hill in the direction that the train of peasants had come from.

Joxer the Mighty
Roams through the countryside
He never needs a place to hi--

"Well, boys, it looks like this day may not be a total disaster after all."

With a gasp, Joxer halted his joyous singing, spinning around to face the source of the voice behind him.

With a large grin, the plate-mail armored leader stepped out of the brush onto the lightly trodden road. "It's about time we had a little luck," he remarked with a wink.

As a loud rustle sounded behind him, Joxer spun around again to watch three of the bandits--one with a large bruise in the center of his forehead--step out of the brush to block the road.

Spinning back to face the leader, Joxer slowly unsheathed his sword. "Sorry?" he offered with a grimace.

"Uh uh," the man muttered as he shook his head slowly from side to side. "You interfered where you had no right to. Apology not accepted."

Joxer laughed nervously. "Are you guys ever gonna be sorry when Xena finds out about this."

"Xena? The Warrior Princess?"

"Who else?" Joxer replied with a shrug. Then, squinting his eyes, he exclaimed, "Oh, look, there she is!"

As the leader glanced behind him curiously, Joxer charged him, his sword leading. However, his attack was easily parried as the soldier brought his blade up quickly to block. With a powerful swing, the leader capitalized on his surprise parry with a surprise attack.

Joxer's blade swung in front of his body in a clumsy parrying attempt, and he felt the full force of the attack in the reverberations of his weapon. As he dropped his sword reflexively, Joxer was grabbed from behind by two of the men--each gripping one arm.

"To the ground!" the leader ordered.

The two men pushed him face first into the dirt; as his aching body hit the hard ground roughly, he yelped a short cry of pain.

The plate-mail armored leader stood over Joxer's prone body, his blade gripped tightly in both hands and held over his head. "There's no hill to roll down this time, boy," the man muttered with a coarse laugh.

"Woah, woah, there!" Joxer yelled as he struggled to lift his face out of the dirt. "Let's think about this logically, all right? What did I really do to you guys? Sure, I'll admit I got in your way, but I don't, uh, don't think that's a k-killable offense." He laughed nervously as he stared up at the leader.

The soldier grinned. "Please, continue."

Eyes widening, Joxer continued, "Well, technically, you killed that one guy." The soldier glared at him angrily, and he quickly amended his statement. "N-not that it was your fault or anything that he, uh, died just because you pushed him down the hill."

The leader nodded his head.

"Well, anyway, that second guy ran down the hill right past me. Definitely not my fault. And then you were pushed down the hill by those peasants. Again, not my fault." Joxer paused briefly to await a response. Not receiving one, he muttered, "So, you can see how this is all just a, uh, big misunderstanding."

"You hit me in the head with a rock," the soldier with the bruised forehead reminded Joxer.

Joxer laughed nervously as he glanced behind him at the soldier. "Well, yeah, there was that, but you guys were trying to kill me at the time."

"Unfortunately for you, that is a killable offense," the leader informed Joxer with a shrug. "Besides, we want to teach Joxer the Dangerous a lesson."

"Oh, yeah, that, too." Joxer's head sunk to the dirt. "Shit."

He groaned as the two men rolled him over so he could witness his death. Closing his eyes in an act of defiance, Joxer felt the leader's heavy boot smash him in the center of his chest; his make-shift breastplate did not help cushion the blow. Choking, he opened his eyes in time to see the leader's blade beginning its descent.

As the sword slashed towards his head, he felt a strange compulsion in his mind, guiding his left hand to the hourglass resting against his skin. As his hand gripped the pendant, he felt a strange tingle throughout his body.

The late afternoon sunlight reflected off the silver blade slashing towards his head--seemingly in slow motion from Joxer's perspective. "Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!" he screamed, anticipating the pain of having his head cleaved in two. His hand stroked the pendant.

And then in a flash of light, all became dark.

Joxer's eyes blinked furiously as he attempted to adjust them to a sudden burst of blue light.

"Wha-wha-where?" he stammered as he sat up slowly, his body seeming to ache all over. He stared at walls of the translucent cell he found himself trapped inside--rather, the wall of the cell. He was encircled by a large blue sphere, leaving him limited room to move. As his fist bashed the wall to test its strength, he grimaced but managed to silence his scream of pain.

On all sides of his sphere was a thick darkness, penetrated only by an infinite number of similar blue glowing spheres. His jaw dropped and he blinked his eyes in disbelief.

"Mp rnj ngi," a quiet voice greeted him.

Joxer spun around to face the speaker, a short man in a white robe standing outside his sphere. In his right hand, the man was carrying a stack of parchment, clipped together on a small board.

"What did you say?"

"Gpp dadbyi, gpp disjru, bn diw flcpmfe tpi thfot fmPlfopF itjmfa. Jabm abi gvbrd jbno pFu tjmfe bndiJa bmo btoyp vrasf rVjcfi." Noticing that Joxer did not seem to understand him--it was pretty obvious from Joxer's confused expression--the man glanced down at a small box attached to the belt around his waist. "Db mnafv ckjn ga vnjVfrs ble trbnslbtpri nfV fraf vc kjngiw prksu whfnaypv enffdijtu. Jih bVfabaf vc kjngiP rjmjt jVfe tpodfblaw jthu bndonpw othjsa!" He began beating on the small box with his fist, a crackling noise following each hit. "Wp rka, db mnaypvo, wpr ku! Yp vifv ck--" The box emitted a loud screech, followed by the continuation of the man's voice in a recognizable language, "--ing piece of garba--" The man's voice cut off as he realized his on-site "repair" had been successful.

Checking his clipboard, the man looked up at Joxer. "Name."

"Uh, are you asking?" Joxer checked, unsure about the man's tone of voice.

"Name," the man repeated.

"Joxer."

"Is that your first or your last name?"

"Uh, it's my name name."

The man rolled his eyes. "First name then. Your last name please."

"What?"

"You are called Joxer--" The man's hand waved, urging Joxer to complete the sentence.

"The Mighty," Joxer responded without hesitation.

"The Mi-- Oh, all right, good enough." The man shook his head and mumbled something under his breath about "primitives." With a small metallic pointer, resembling a quill without feathers, the man scribbled something onto his parchment.

"Uh, where am I?"

Ignoring Joxer, the man continued, "Okay, Joxer the Mighty, we've got you down as being from the year--" The man's words were drowned out by a loud scream in the distance. Joxer nodded his head anyway.

"Well, the year in your regular plane is now--" Again, the man's words were drowned out by a loud scream. "That's fifty one years from your home time," he continued without pause.

"Wh-what?" Joxer demanded.

"The year in the worldly plane, where life is affected by the passage of time, is--" Again, the loud scream. The man shook his head, and muttered, "Temporal abusers! I wish they wouldn't torture them while I'm trying to do an interrogation." He spun around and screamed into the darkness, "I'm trying to work here!" He spun back around to face Joxer, pursed his lips, and continued, "Anyway, you've been here for fifty years."

"B-b-but I just woke up!" Joxer protested.

"You've been in stasis," the man explained.

"I've been in what?"

"You used a manipulator of time, did you not?" the man asked, shaking his head impatiently.

"A what?"

"A manipulator of time? A temporal manipulator?" The man stared at the pendant hanging from Joxer's neck. "On your necklace! That's a temporal manipulator."

"A tempor-huh?"

The short man licked his lips and took a deep breath. "You used that thing, correct?" he asked slowly.

"Umm, I rubbed it?"

"Yes, exactly. You rubbed it, but you did not rub it correctly, so you were trapped in a limbo between times." Realizing that Joxer was not getting it, the man added, "We, the Guardians of Time, rescued you from the limbo and left you in this stasis field for the last fifty years."

"What in the Gods' names are you talking about?"

"Why do they always assign the frickin' primitives to me," the man muttered exasperatedly. "I've given those bastards at the top the best years of my life, and still they treat me like a..." His words trailed off as he noticed the confused expression on Joxer's face.

"What did you say?" Joxer asked him curiously.

"Oh, never mind. Anyway, to put this in words I hope you'll be able to understand, you've been asleep for fifty one years."

"What?" Joxer demanded. "That's not possible!"

"Yes, it is. We kept you asleep for that period."

"You kept me asleep for fifty years?" Joxer muttered, clearly not believing the man's explanation. "Why? How?"

"Oh, we're severely backlogged! And downsizing! I'm actually surprised those bastards upstairs haven't handed me my pee-twenty-seven-slash-eight-see yet." The man muttered a few unrecognizable words under his breath before continuing, "Since it isn't our fault that you incorrectly abused time travel, we don't feel guilty about keeping you asleep in the stasis spheres until we can get to your case."

"But I didn't know wha--"

"Save it for temporal court. If you want to protest the decision, you'll have to fill out a see-seventy-one-slash-one-eff, and wait for your court date. Unfortunately, you'll be here for another fifty years at least." The man shook his head and glanced around at the many other spheres in the darkness. "You'd never believe the number of morons incorrectly using time travel these days. Oh, no offense intended."

Joxer studied the man. "You did too intend it."

The man thought for a second and shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, right you are. But don't worry about it."

"I'll get over it. Now, how do I get out of here?"

"This here is a tee-thirty-eight-slash-seven-bee. Sign here, here and there," the man instructed as he handed Joxer his clipboard--right through the sphere's wall. Attached to the clipboard was a piece of parchment covered with unrecognizable symbols.

Joxer watched in amazement as the man withdrew his arm from the sphere. "How did you--"

"We run this place," the man said with a shrug. "Now sign it."

"What?"

The man handed Joxer the featherless quill.

"What is this?"

"It's a pen," the man muttered as he rolled his eyes. "Primitives!" he grumbled.

"What?"

"Write with it," the man exasperatedly attempted to explain.

Joxer stared at the parchment and the pen.

"Do you know what an X is?" the man asked, his hand making a crossing motion in the air.

"Uhh, yeah, I guess so."

"Well, put an X in those three spots I indicated. Press hard."

"Where?"

The man grabbed the clipboard out of Joxer's hands. Holding it up so Joxer could clearly see it, he said, "Here, here, here," while pointing at three blank spots on the parchment. "Please, no more questions." The guardian handed the clipboard back to Joxer.

Joxer pushed the pen's tip onto the parchment as he had seen Gabrielle do many times before. He drew a messy X in the first spot. He held the clipboard up so the man could see it.

The guardian nodded his head. "Yeah, good enough. Now two more times."

Joxer scrawled two more X's on the parchment in the spots the man had indicated. He handed the man his clipboard and asked curiously, "What was that thing anyway?"

"This is your receipt," the man muttered as he tore the white parchment off the top of the clipboard. Joxer noticed that there appeared to be a yellow duplicate of the parchment under the white one. "This is your copy," the man said as he handed Joxer the white parchment.

"What's this for?"

"It's your receipt," the guardian repeated.

"What do I need it for?"

"You'll need it if you hope to appeal the decision of the temporal court."

"Oh, of course. What decision?"

"You are to be returned to the worldly plane fifty one years from your departure. I thought I explained this all to you?"

"B-b-but, if you guys are the Guardians of Time, can't you return me to my time?"

"We are forbidden from willfully interfering with the passage of time. If we were to return you to your time, all that has happened in your absence will be destroyed."

"What are you talking about? You guys trapped me here for fifty years! I wasn't supposed to be here!"

"You were the fool who abused a temporal manipulator. If you want to fill out a see-seventy-one-slash-one-eff to protest the decision, feel free. I have one on me. You can fill it out and we will be happy to put you back in stasis until your case is brought before the temporal court. I've never actually heard of anyone winning their case, but maybe you'll be the first." The man snickered knowingly.

"Isn't there anything you can do?" Joxer asked meekly.

The man smiled. "I was waiting for you to ask me that," he replied. Glancing around to be sure he wasn't being watched, the guardian stuck his head through the sphere's wall and whispered, "Well, I can't help you, but I can direct you to someone who can. Now this is between you and me, okay?"

Joxer nodded his head. "Yes, of course."

"I am going to let you keep your pendant."

Joxer grinned. "So I can use it to travel back? You'll teach me how to use it correctly?"

"Uh, well, no, I can't do that. Besides, it won't work here. We'll carry out your sentence and return you to your worldly plane, fifty one years after your departure."

"What?" Joxer demanded. "How does that help me?"

"Patience! Once you return to your world, you must seek out a wizard. His name is Epoch and he has lived on your world for hundreds of years. He knows the secrets of time travel, and he can help you with your pendant."

Joxer nodded his understanding. "Will this Epoch be hard to find?"

The man shook his head. "I have a feeling he'll find you."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

"Uh, okay, thanks. Umm, why are you helping me? Couldn't you get in trouble for this?"

The short man laughed. "Are you kidding? I'm hoping those bastards upstairs realize what I've done. You aren't the first I've helped, but I continually get away with it. I really could use a good demotion."

Joxer nodded his head amiably, although he was clueless as to what the man meant.

"Remember: the world has aged fifty years in your absence. Things will have changed a great deal. Old friends will, uh, really be old--if not dead."

Joxer gulped. "Gabby," he muttered under his breath.

The guardian withdrew his head from the sphere and surveyed the blackness for observers. "Anytime you are ready, good sir."

Joxer took a deep breath of the musty air. "I guess I'm ready now," he responded noncommittally. "Send me home, kinda."

And before he realized what was happening, he was home--kinda.

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