CAST:

Xena, Warrior Princess
Gabrielle, Bard of Potadiea
Joxer the Mighty
Lord Mestor
Talos, a dealer
Nedon, Captain of the Guard
Carmanor, Talos' door-guard

Rating: PG-13, for dealing with serious and scary stuff.
Summary: Joxer, to escape his utterly miserable life, discovers a way to leave it all behind. But peace soon turns to horror in this gripping story.. (Who says it's gripping? Me, that's who! I should know; I wrote it. *g*)
Continuity: I'm sick of writing season 5 stories, so we're swinging back to late season 2 or early season 3. Around there.
Dedication: The idea for this story came during the week I spent doing Improv training at the Alta Peruvian Lodge and is dedicated to the people I spent it with. Especially my awesome team. Love is the strongest power on Earth.

Gabrielle had never grown accustomed to big cities. Markets she could handle, no sweat. But when the markets turned into areas of houses which became streets for tradesman and merchants and then nobles' mansions, temples of the gods, and the palace of Mestor, lord protector of it all, in the very center, she got a little intimidated.

Xena, of course, wasn't even remotely intimidated. But what really drove Gabrielle insane was the fact that Joxer was perfectly comfortable while she was jumping at the slightest thing and constantly grabbing at her staff. Stuck-up city boy.

Joxer was having a great time. He kept running off through the crowd to watch dancers, jugglers, and shopmen hawking their wares to the passerby, shouting and laughing with the rest. Xena had to keep calling him back to keep him from being lost in the crush of people.

Finally they got into the quieter, less crowded center of the city, and picked up the pace towards the palace. Xena and Gabrielle had been invited by Lord Mestor's messengers and ambassadors to be his guests in exchange for assistance with some sort of problem. What, he hadn't said.

Gabrielle liked him already, mostly because he had included her in the invitation as well as Xena. Joxer hadn't been mentioned, though, so he would have to stay behind. Gabrielle felt sorry for him, but not very much. Her mind was too full of rich food, soft beds, and hot baths to worry about Joxer.

When they reached the gates of the palace grounds, ten soldiers were waiting for them. Their leader, a young man with sandy-blonde hair, signaled to have the gates opened and came out to welcome them.

"Xena and Gabrielle?" he inquired.

"That's us." said Xena.

The young man smiled. "We have been anxiously awaiting your arrival. Please, come with us, and we will escort you to the presence of Lord Mestor.."

One of the soldiers came up and took Argo's reins. Xena turned to Joxer. "Stay out of trouble, all right?"

"Bye, Joxer," said Gabrielle absently. She had all of her attention focused on the lead soldier, and his seemed to be on her. Both of them were smiling with pleased embarrassment.

Joxer glared at the new rival, but no one noticed it. So he muttered, "See ya," and stood still while they went through the gate and let it clang behind them.

After taking a minute to mutter threats against the soldier if he hurt Gabrielle, Joxer turned and wandered back down the road.

"Ah, you have arrived at last!" Mestor announced as Xena and Gabrielle were led into the council room. He was a middle-aged man, dressed as a high-ranking soldier, with misty gray eyes and hair beginning to turn the same color. Xena looked him over and took a quick sketch of his character. Honest, fair, smart. A good ruler.

He took their hands and bowed before them. "We are honored that you have come."

"Well, we haven't done anything honorable yet," Xena pointed out. She pulled a chair out from under the heavy, round oak table and sat sideways on it. "So why have you called us here?"

Mestor looked up at the soldiers who had escorted them into the room. "Nedon, dismiss your men."

The young captain signaled to the others. They marched out and closed the door behind them.

"There is a problem in this city," Mestor began, "And try as we might we haven't been able to get it under control. Nedon's men have been on the streets night and day and we've been bringing in violators by the dozens, but it doesn't seem to help."

"Perhaps, if you told us what the problem was, we could help," Gabrielle offered.

Mestor rubbed his hands together. "Of course, of course, forgive me. Perhaps, if you came with me, you would see what it is we are dealing with."

Xena shrugged and got up again. Nedon grinned at Gabrielle and then led them out of the council room, down several corridors and long flights of stairs, to the dungeons.

They were relatively nice, as dungeons go. There was no smell of death or disease; despite having so many people it seemed remarkably clean. As Xena passed by the roomy, windowed cells, she noticed clean straw on the floors and wooden bowls of plain, nourishing food that had apparently just been set out. A few servants circulated amongst the prisoners, offering water to soldier and captive alike. She was quite impressed.

Nedon stopped in front of a cell where a thin, wheezing man was on his knees, moaning and mumbling. Xena could make out a few words: "Dark Smoke . . . please . . . give me the Dark Smoke . . . I'll die . . ."

"Hallo, Calus," said Nedon pleasantly. "Feeling any better this evening?"

The man raised his gaunt head to watch them with blank, cold eyes. Then he crawled over to the bars and reached through them to grasp at Gabrielle's feet. "Please, Noble Lady!" he whispered in a raspy, choking voice. "Please, help me! Just a few leaves, that's all I need, please have mercy on a poor old wretch. Just let me have the Dark Smoke again before I die in this accursed place!"

Gabrielle took a step backwards, then knelt and took his trembling hand.. "Are you sick?" she asked kindly.

"In a manner of speaking," said Mestor. "He has been without Dark Smoke for two days now, and you can see what it does to him. They're all like that . . . trembling, feverish, pleading. Many try to hurt themselves.

"What is the Dark Smoke?" Xena asked.

Nedon explained. "It's exactly what it sounds like. A smoke that is given off when certain leaves that grow in this area are dried and burned. It is said to produce feelings of comfort and safety when breathed in."

"Well, what's wrong with that?" Gabrielle asked. "If it comforts people . . ."

"Yes, but that's not all it does. People gather in dens in bad areas of the city to buy the leaves and breathe the smoke. Whenever we find one of them, we always come across bodies. Lots and lots of bodies."

"Bodies?"

"Yes, bodies. People who had choked to death from mucus lining . . . and eventually blocking off . . . their throats."

"And the Dark Smoke does this." Xena concluded.

"Right. But it also addicts horribly, as you can see with Calus here. The poor souls will do anything to keep getting it. And if they can't get it . . ."

He was interrupted by Calus, who wrenched his hand from Gabrielle's grasp and screamed. Without even pausing for breath, he ran at the far wall and smashed himself against it.

Nedon pushed Gabrielle protectively away from the bars and called two guards to his aid. "Come on, he'll hurt himself!"

The three unlocked the door and restrained Calus, who had smashed himself against the wall twice more and hadn't stopped screaming.

"Easy, Old Boy!" Nedon said calmly. "It'll be over soon, I promise. Just hang in a little longer."

"It won't be over 'till I've got the Dark Smoke! Mercy, mercy! Lord Mestor, mercy!"

"Chain him." Nedon ordered. The two soldiers forced Calus against the right wall and shackled him hand and foot. They proceeded to blindfold and gag him, but even then he continued to scream.

"How long does this frenzy last?" Xena asked.

Nedon sighed. "A couple of days. This is the worst of it. If he makes it through this . . . which, I'm afraid, he might not . . . then he should be able to recover, mostly."

"There are too many if's in that sentence." she told him. "And should's, and mostly's. I'm beginning to see why you summoned us."

"It's almost reached epidemic proportions," said Mestor. "But the addiction is nothing compared to what these people are doing to get money for the leaves. Everywhere you turn we have theft, assault, murder, done by those who will go to any lengths go get a few dinars. My men are stretched to the breaking point trying to control it all."

Xena nodded. "We'll give you all the help you need. You can count on that."

Joxer wandered through the narrow, darkened streets of the city, not paying any attention to where he was going. "Stupid Gabrielle and her dumb soldier-boy," he was muttering to himself. "No, Joxer, no invitation for you, sorry. Who's supposed to take care of her, I'd like to know? No dumb brainless order-taking goon. That's my job!"

He slumped against the side of a building and slid wearily to the ground. How could life possibly get worse? Scorned, forgotten, pacing alleys and feeling sorry for himself while his beloved flirted with a total stranger!

A sound from the end of the alley made him look up. In the shadows, he could make out a painfully thin form. A man, with dirty reddish hair, dressed in ragged pants torn at the knees and a ragged vest. His breath came in slow rasps and as he stepped into the moonlight Joxer could see that his eyes were blank and vacant.

Joxer lowered his head again. If the man wanted to wander the streets after dark, that was his business.

The stranger wandered over towards him, taking his time. Joxer didn't move; he hadn't the will to move. So he didn't even stir until the stranger was standing right next to him.

"Hard times? said the newcomer sympathetically.

"You might say that," Joxer mumbled. "I've just been thrown away again like a stone in her shoe."

"Ah," said the other. "I see." He sat down. "What's she like?"

Joxer smiled. "Kind, smart, funny, with a laugh that will make a hurricane blow over. I'm crazy about her."

"Where is she now?"

"In the palace, making eyes at the Captain of the Guard."

The man sighed. "That's gotta be rough."

"Tell me about it."

They sat in silence for a while, each wrapped in their own thoughts.

"Tell you what," said the stranger finally. "Come with me, and I'll see if we can't cheer you up."

"No thanks," Joxer said dejectedly. "A house of ill fame is the last thing I need right now."

"Who said anything about that? Come on and I'll show you. You'll forget all your troubles. I guarantee it."

Finally, Joxer looked up. The man was watching him sympathetically with his blank, disturbing eyes.

He smiled and shrugged. "What the heck."

The stranger grinned. "Good. I'm called Talos."

He shook Joxer's hand and helped him to his feet. "And you are?"

"Joxer."

Talos took him by the wrist and slowly led the way down the maze of streets, into the dark and dangerous parts of the city where criminals lurked. His bare feet seemed to know the way, and he made unerringly for a crooked doorway hidden in the shadows.

"Where is this?" Joxer asked in a whisper.

"My place," Talos answered.

He rapped three times on it and waited. After a moment, it opened a fraction and someone looked out. "Talos?"

"Hey, Carmanor. Let me in. The other's with me."

"Right." The door was opened enough to allow them into a dim, silent room. Joxer looked around him with a sort of frightened curiosity. All around, people were sitting or lying on the floor next to little bowls filled with ashes. Many had fallen asleep, most of the others looked dreamy and vacant. The air was faintly smoky, and Joxer covered his mouth and nose with a free hand.

Talos was talking quietly to Carmanor, the doorkeeper. "Just a few for now. Yeah."

Carmanor reached up to a shelf by the entrance and took down one of the small bowls. Holding it in the palm of his hand, he filled it with brown, narrow dried leaves from a pouch on his belt. Talos took it and led Joxer to a corner of the room.

"Sit down, Joxer," he said quietly. When they were both cross-legged on the floor, he set down the bowl and lit it with flints he produced from somewhere.

A wisp of thick, greasy smoke wandered up from the bowl. Talos smiled and waved a little of it towards him. "Just breathe it," he said. "It will make you feel better."

Joxer awkwardly tried to imitate Talos*' actions, but the smoke burned his throat and he burst into a fit of coughing. Talos smiled at him in amusement. "Don't fight it, Joxer. Just let it go in."

Joxer took another breath, deep and steady. This time, it rushed into his lungs easily and his body's reaction was immediate. He felt warm, comfortable, and safe, dreamy and peaceful. Gabrielle and the soldier fled from his mind as if they had never been. How could he have been so gloomy a few minutes ago? There was nothing to worry about; everything would be all right.

He wanted to weep for joy. He was happier now than he had been for years . . . since he had fallen so hopelessly in love. But now the heartache was gone and he was filled with blessed peace.

"What is this?" he asked, his voice breathless and hushed.

Talos drew in another lungful of it. "We call it the Dark Smoke."

When he awoke, Joxer found himself still lying on the floor of the smoke den. Talos was slumped against the wall, a smile of contentment on his face. Joxer reached over and shook him gently. "Hey, Talos, wake up."

"Hm?" Talos shook himself a little and opened his eyes.. "Oh, hi, Joxer. Did you like it?"

"The smoke? Oh, yeah. I feel much better. Thanks."

"Forget it; it's on the house."

Joxer rubbed his stinging eyes. "What time is it? Oh, Xena's going to have a fit . . ."

He paused as the events of yesterday came back to him. Xena had no idea where he was, nor did she care. And Gabrielle . . . It hurt to think about Gabrielle.

Wearily, he struggled to his feet. "I've really got to get going. Thanks, Talos, for everything."

Talos shrugged. "Felt sorry for you. Hey, if you ever need more of the Dark Smoke or need somewhere to sleep, my place is always open."

"I'll remember that." Joxer promised. He made his way to the door, stepping over the collection of semiconscious and unconscious bodies, and stepped out into the blazing morning sunlight.

Xena wasted no time. By first light she had Nedon out of bed and in the council room, laying out maps on the table. She had unconsciously taken command of his entire force and had every soldier scurrying to obey her commands.

"Okay," she said decisively, "I want the locations of dens you've uncovered marked out on this map. I also need to know where exactly this plant grows and I need samples of it. The people in the dungeons seem well-taken-care-of so I won't worry about them. However, I'm going to need to get in touch with the city's spy force immediately."

Nedon cleared his throat. "We haven't exactly got a spy force, actually."

"Well, get one. For the time being, I want any recovered addicts you can find. If possible, I want them to have been off the drug for several months. Also a few people from the dungeons. It should be fairly easy to get information out of them."

"Xena, please," Gabrielle said quietly, "No tortures, no interrogations. These people haven't done anything wrong of their own choice. It's the Dark Smoke that's the enemy, not these people."

Xena sighed. "All right. You win."

"Thank you," said Gabrielle sweetly.

"You are very right, Gabrielle," Nedon told her. "It's the Dark Smoke we have to eliminate."

Gabrielle grinned and fought down the urge to go red. She kept getting tingles up and down her spine when he spoke to her.

"Where does the plant grow, exactly?" she asked.

"It used to be in the woods around the city, but most . . . if not all . . . of those wild ones have been wiped out. What's being used is cultivated, and so far we haven't been able to find out where."

"Then that should be our target. Find where these plants are being grown and eliminate them."

Nedon nodded. "But we have to find someone who knows where it is first. So for now we're going to have to keep raiding these dens."

"Go find me that spy force," Xena ordered. "We've got a lot of work to do."

It took a few hours for Joxer's body to notice that its new source of comfort was gone. He'd been wandering the market for most of the morning when suddenly his stomach gave a lurch of protest. He wrapped his arms protectively over it and waited for the feeling to pass.

About a half hour later his head started pounding like a jackhammer, and the nausea came back. To try and settle his stomach, he found an inn and had some tea. That helped a little, but soon the symptoms returned, accompanied by a nasty fever.

But he didn't want medicine. He wanted Dark Smoke.

It didn't get any better as the city heated up under the summer sun. He retreated to the narrow alleys in the less respectable areas where the scorching heat didn't reach, but the smells of trash heaps under every window soon proved too much for him. Crouched miserably in a back alley, he threw up everything in his stomach.

That was how he found himself running back to Talos' den.

The gaunt, vacant-eyed man was there when he arrived. "Joxer. You're back."

"Hey, Talos. Is there any more Dark Smoke? I could really use some. I don't feel good."

Talos took him by the shoulder. "Hey, I understand. Sure. There's always more Dark Smoke here. There's just one thing, though . . ."

"Yeah? What?"

"Well, the guy that I get the leaves from is the only one in the city that grows them, and he charges me a lot."

Joxer followed his train of thought very quickly and dug out his coin-pouch. "I'll pay for what I use. How much?"

"Fifteen dinars the bowlful, for a friend."

"Fifteen?" asked Joxer, a little taken aback by the price. Nonetheless, he shook the coins into his hand and gave them to Talos, ignoring the fact that it was most of what he had.

Carmanor gave him the earthenware bowl filled with leaves, and he retreated into the shadows to breathe in relief and comfort.

The doorkeeper smiled a little and glanced at the coins in Talos' hand. "Hook, line, and sinker."

"It was inevitable," Talos said with a shrug. "The fellow's had such a rotten time of it I feel almost sorry for him. If anyone needs the Dark Smoke, it's Joxer."

"And if anyone needs money, it's us."

"Too true. We're awfully lucky; a new supply of leaves is coming in tonight and if not for him we wouldn't have been able to afford to pay."

That afternoon Xena put the first of her stratagems into play. She ordered one of the addicted prisoners released. The fellow was so desperate for the Dark Smoke he wouldn't be thinking straight at all, and would never notice Xena following quietly behind him.

He didn't. As soon as he was tossed unceremoniously from the palace grounds, the man picked himself up and ran for the alleys.

Even in his ill and panicked state, he knew the way. Xena followed silently, quickly, hand hovering near her chakram. When he finally reached a dark, grubby door, she pursued no farther. Bingo.

A compliment of soldiers, accompanied by Nedon and Gabrielle, was waiting back at the palace for her. "I found it," she announced. "Let's move."

"Be careful," Nedon warned everyone. "The people in there are desperate; be prepared for anything. No one is to be harmed. Get all the leaves you can find together and bring them back with you."

"Yes, sir," said the soldiers in unison.

He glanced quickly at Gabrielle and flashed her a comforting smile. She smiled back and gripped her staff.

They retraced Xena's steps to where the man had gone. After taking a minute to get organized, draw weapons, and cover their mouths and noses with cloth masks, they broke easily inside.

People screamed and scrambled away as the soldiers poured into the room. They grabbed the smoking bowls and clutched them protectively. Nedon's men tore the bowls away from them and stamped out the ashes under their boots.

A desperate, wild-looking woman screamed as the bowl was forced from her fingers and struck savagely at the soldier. He grabbed her wrist and threw her away from him, but Nedon struck the man in a sharp reprimand.

"We're not here to harm," he snapped. "Bind her."

The entire operation went remarkably fast. In less than twenty minutes everyone had been tied at the wrists and marched off to the dungeons. All the leaves that the den's owner had were packed safely away in leather pouches. The man himself was gone.

They had found five bodies in the den, all of them dead by suffocation. They were taken away on litters to the palace's crematorium, since people didn't build funeral pyres in the city.

"We've got to stop this," Gabrielle murmured as she watched the corpses carried out.

"We will," Xena told her. "Just have to find where they're getting the plants from."

Gabrielle sighed and went out into the street, getting safely away from the building so she could uncover her face again. She felt sick. All these people . . . these good, honest, wonderful people . . . were killing themselves and destroying their home, all because of the Dark Smoke. She wanted it eliminated. She hated it.

Feeling frustrated, angry, and sad, she wandered back up to the palace, where the new captives were being incarcerated and cared for. Nedon was working side by side with his men and the servants, and Gabrielle quietly joined him.

"How can you stand to watch this?" she asked, helping to guide a shaky young boy into a cell. "They're all dying. They're poisoning themselves and they can't stop."

"It's awful, I know," Nedon murmured. "But if we don't watch it we're not going to be able to stop it."

The boy clutched the bars of his cell and reached for Gabrielle's hand. "Please . . . what's going to happen to me? I didn't mean to get into trouble, truly I didn't. Please let me go."

"It'll be all right," she said comfortingly. "Be strong and everything will be all right very soon."

"C-could I have a little Dark Smoke?" he asked, then burst into a fit of coughing.

Nedon took his other hand and pressed it tight. "No, my boy. No Smoke. Breathe, now. Just breathe, or you won't make it through this."

Trembling, crying, he tried to do as he was told. Gabrielle looked at Nedon and quietly studied his face. "It's beautiful."

"What is?" he asked.

"The way you care about them all. These people are going through so much horrible suffering. Only they can truly know how much it means to them to hear a comforting voice."

He turned away from the boy and gave her his full attention. "They have given me a purpose in life. The least I can do is give them back as much as I can."

She smiled. "They are lucky to have you."

"And Xena is very lucky to have you."

They stood in uncomfortable, embarrassed silence for a while.

"Gabrielle," he said at length, "I wonder if . . . that is, I mean, well . . . Would you consider coming and having a drink with me sometime? I'd . . . really like to talk to you more. If that's all right with you."

Gabrielle went red; there was no fighting the burning in her cheeks this time. "I would like that," she said with an embarrassed smile.

He grinned. "Oh, good. Tomorrow night, then? I have business to attend to this evening."

"That's fine. Tomorrow night."

Both turned back to their work, having said too much.

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