A woman wanders through a crowded agora. Not unexpectedly, she appears to be looking for something. A small frown dampens a pretty face--apparently she hasn't found what she needs. She is leaving a table filled with a various assortment of goods, everything from hair combs to boot laces, when a man emerges from the side street and approaches her, a joyful smile on his face. "Hey, wait up! I got everything you--" He stops abruptly as another, darker woman steps out from behind a scarf used to separate the adjoining stalls. "Oh, uhm. Hi!" The man juggles his finds as he tries to tuck them away in his pack, but only succeeds in drawing more attention to the parcels.

"Find anything you needed?" The woman's startling blue eyes hold a hint of amusement. She passes by them and adds with certainty, "We should be leaving soon, a storm's coming."

A chill does seem to fill the air as the younger woman elbows the man, a look of exasperation replacing the frown. She hurries away down the street. Disappointment shows in the man's hunched shoulders and, now, weary gait.

His hand brushes hers a moment too long. He quickly jerks it away leaving the reins behind. "Sorry," he says. He runs his hand down the horse's neck once more, then steps away. "Horse sure does like your apples." He shuts his eyes firmly and blinks them open again to find her staring at him. He throws his arms in front of himself. "That's not what...I usually...it just"

"It's okay," she adds, grabbing at a flailing arm and working a hand into his. "Could we talk? Maybe?" She winces slightly. "You're probably sick of hearing me say that."

They walk to the edge of the lake and sit down on one of the flatter rocks. Their voices fade in and out fighting for dominance over the sounds of the night and the soft spring breeze. The day has faded taking most of the light with it, but the man's look of disbelief is unmistakable as the woman's lips leave his. They sit together, their hands linked loosely until her head finds the crook of his neck, and he draws her near.

A young woman kneels by the side of the stream with her hands submerged in the slow moving water. By appearance, she is an amazon; functional short leather top and skirt, boots that hold some form of weaponry?the handles of which protrude from their sheathes, her small, muscular body, relaxed, yet aware. Shaking the excess water from her hands, she grasps the sides of the cloth beside her and lifts the freshly-cleaned rabbit as she stands.

Upon reaching the campfire, she lowers herself onto the ground across from an awkward looking man. He wears an unusual set of armor, oddly hammered and dangerously noisy. He moves from stirring the contents of the pot on the fire and sits to the right of the woman. A creak and clang signal his descent.

She skewers the bits of rabbit and raises up slightly to place them on the fire to cook. As she settles back, his arm goes around her. She turns, an easy smile on her face. Her eyes dance along the features of his face, her hands soon follow, her lips next. His head dips down, lips taking hers with a passion not outwardly discerned.

She breaks the kiss with a warning. "She'll be back anytime, now."

He laces his fingers through her short blonde hair and looks at her wistfully. "Why do we still keep it a secret?"

"I want you all to myself for awhile." She whispers the words huskily into his ear and works a hand beneath his tunic, fingers caressing heated flesh.

Laughing, the man's face broadens into a more befitting comical expression, and he whines, "You don't want to hear her 'I told you so's.' " He stays her hand and they separate hastily at the sound of twigs giving way in the woods before them. A quick exchange of "I love you's" and a final swift kiss end another stolen moment for the pair.

"Hades!" Her voice sounds unusually throaty in the cool, quiet of morning. "I should have strapped on my sandals," she mutters to herself. A pale foot kicks out. The sun, which has only just begun its ascent into the deep blue autumn sky, pushes through the dense forest behind the old cottage. The woman's face is illuminated showing a twitch at the corner of her mouth, that and a small sigh evidence the satisfaction at having successfully dislodged the offending pebble. It lands without a sound in the dewy grass a few steps off the rock-pitted path.

She hurries forward, mindful of her footing and the bucket that swings gently by her side with every step. The damp hem of her skirt clings to a still well-formed calf. A few quick steps across cool flagstones and she pushes against the heavy door. The wood is warm and smooth beneath her hand. In one fluid movement her foot hooks the door closed behind her. She places the bucket on the low table situated under the front wall's solitary window. Her hand moves beneath the table, and she tsks quietly. Leaning down, she peers into the darkness?pots, strainers, vases, but no basin.

She stands upright, head turning slowly from side to side as her eyes touch upon every shadow. Suddenly, her hand moves up to her forehead and her eyes close briefly. "Berries," she says, eyes rolling to look at the ceiling. She drops her hand to her waist and steps around the dining table. She walks across the room to where the fire crackles with renewed strength. Bending down slowly, she removes the basin from its resting place on the hearth, then returns to her work table to continue her morning routine.

After filling the basin, she hums softly to herself as she tugs a rag from its peg. She shows no sign of surprise when a creak sounds from the short staircase leading to the loft, and a deeper humming joins her own. By the time his arms encircle her and his face presses gently against hers, the tune they hum together has transformed into one learned in days long since past. She closes her eyes and leans into his warmth, breathing in his smell, savoring the taste of his sweet skin as she place a kiss on his cheek.

"Mmm. That's nice." He pulls back slightly letting his gaze roam freely over her face, settling on her eyes. The woman breaks the silence after a few moments. "My neck's starting to hurt." She says the words matter-of-factly, making no move to remedy the encroaching discomfort. Instead, she reaches her free hand up and trails her fingertips along his jaw line and up to his cheek. "I love you," she says.

His eyes nearly close as he leans in, his lips almost touching hers. "I know, but I still have trouble believing it, sometimes." Her breath mingles with his as she responds. "I guess I was like everything else in your life.." She pauses, discarding the wet, still unused rag. She drops her other hand from his face and moves it along his chest finally working it around his waist as she twists to join his embrace. Her lips brush against his as she speaks. "I'm afraid, everything you got, you got it the hard way."

"I'd've waited forever for you."

"And I nearly made you."

"Shut up and kiss me."

Their lips join, but there is no urgency in the touch. It is a slow caress, no more than a gentle sigh.

Please take the time to write to Raye at summrbrez@thebookcase.org and let her know how you liked the story!

COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER:
Xena: Warrior Princess, Xena, Gabrielle, Joxer, Horse, 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. Lyrics and music to "The Hard Way" 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 © 2000 by Raye and is her 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.