Disclaimer: The characters of Xena and Gabrielle and others resembling those from the TV show, belong to Studio USA and Renaissance Pictures. No infringement on their rights is intended. All other characters are of my own creation and belong to me. Lyrics to Angel belong to Sarah McLachan. No infringements on her rights is intended.

Note: The songs chosen are personal favorites of mine. Please feel free to insert songs you prefer with your memories.

Please send any comments to asdease1@gte.net

Enjoy, I hope.


Written by FlyBigD

Gabrielle narrowed her eyes at the innkeeper behind the bar. “How much?”

“Twenty dinars.” Unfazed by the glare, he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

“You’re kidding me, right?” She asked incredulously. “I don’t want to buy the place. I just want a room.”

“One room, twenty dinars.” He said, staring right back at her.

“Look, lady. Would you give him the money or go away? I’d like to get a drink here.” The burly looking guy standing behind her said.

“Yea.” The three other burly looking guys behind the first one said together.

The bard looked at them over her shoulder, then she turned back to the innkeeper. “Five and you throw in two bowls of stew.”

“Twenty dinars.” The innkeeper said again. “No meals.”

Having been standing there for fifteen minutes, Gabrielle was coming to the end of her rope because they were at the end of their money. “Okay, ten dinars and two bowls of stew.”

“Twenty dinars. No meals.” Refusing to budge, he gave her a blank expression.

“Lady.” Burly guy number one groaned.

“Shut up.” She snapped over her shoulder. Running her fingers through her hair, she made another attempt at staring the innkeeper down. “Twelve dinars.”

“Twenty dinars. No meals.” Again in the same monotone voice.

“Gods, I don’t believe this!” She yelled and pulled herself half way across the bar to grab the front of his grimy shirt. “Thirteen and that’s my final offer. No meals.”

Xena walked in to find her partner and found her sprawled out on top of, and being dragged down the top of the bar because he was dragging her. Grrrrrr, wait a minute. No. She was being dragged down the top of the bar because she wouldn’t let go of him. “Gods, I can’t leave you alone for a minute. Gabrielle! What are you doing?” Heading to intercept, she pushed the line of burly looking guys out of her way. “Move.”

“Hey! No cuts!” Burly guy number four said as he got shoved.

When burly guy number three heard that somebody was trying to cut in line, he put his arm out to stop them. “Nobody’s cutting in front of me. Back of the line, sister.”

The warrior looked at the arm in her way and then at burly guy number three. “Move it or lose it, butt face.”

“What did you say?” Number three asked as he swung his empty mug at her head.

Grabbing the mug in one hand, Xena broke his jaw with the other. “I said move.” She told him as he fell unconscious to the floor. When he hit, she looked up at number one and two. “Move.”

Grumbling something about women not being allowed in bars, one and two moved.

“I want a room! Do you hear me? Gimme a room!”

“Gabrielle!” Growling, the warrior grabbed the bard’s legs and got kicked in the face, which stunned her for a second, but she recovered and began to pull Gabrielle towards her. “Let him go.”

“No! I want a room! I’m not letting go till I get a room! Gimme a room! Gimme it!”

“She belong to you?” The still unfazed innkeeper asked Xena.

“So . . . I’ve . . . been . . . told.” Grunting and groaning, the warrior got hold of one shoulder and gave it one good yank, which slammed the innkeeper into the bar, but detached Gabrielle. Spinning the squirming blonde around, the warrior set her on the floor. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Xena, he won’t give me a room.” Gabrielle complained and threw her hands in the air, then let one stay out to point an accusing finger.

“What?” Sighing, Xena turned around to the innkeeper. “Why won’t you give her a room?”

“Twenty dinars. No meals.” He started up again.

“Twenty dinars?” She asked in disbelief. “I don’t know how to break this to ya, fella, but this is not the Trumpus Towers. I’ll give you five and you can throw in a couple of bowls of whatever you haven’t washed your shirt in.”

Yet still unfazed, he folded his arms across his chest or sat them on his big belly. “Twenty dinars. No meals.”

“Here we go again.” Came a general moan from the line of burly guys. The ones still standing, that is.

“Five.” Xena said again and held up her hand with her fingers spread, just in case couldn’t hear too good. “That’s my only offer.”

“Twenty dinars. No meals.” His hearing fine, the innkeeper was back to looking unfazed.

“Get him, Xena. Get him.” Bouncing on her toes, Gabrielle jabbed a menacing finger at the innkeeper. “Rip him apart! Tear him limb from limb! Put the pinch on him!”

“Shush, Gabrielle.” Waving her hand behind her, the warrior stepped up to the bar. Resting one elbow down, she wiggled a finger at him and whispered when he got closer. “Okay, look. You got two choices, here. Either you take the five dinars and give us a room, with meals and we leave tomorrow or I’m going to leave now and the blonde stays with you . . . forever.”

“Ten dinars. No meals.” He changed his tune quietly.

“Five with meals delivered to the room. That’s the deal here. Take it or I leave it.” Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled at the bard.

“Get him, Xena! Rip his eyeballs out! Yea! Rip ‘em out, Xena. Squish ‘em.”


“Wise choice.” She congratulated him and pulled a small pouch out from her usual hiding place. Giving the innkeeper five dinars, she added two more. “And bring up two mugs of something stronger than you’re serving those guys.” She said, nodding at the forelorned looking burly guys.

Smiling, the innkeeper slapped a key on the bar. “Last room at the top of the stairs and I’ll have your drinks and meals up in a few minutes.”

The pouch went back in its hiding place and Xena turned around, key in hand. “Come on, Gabrielle.”

“What?” Astonished and disappointed, Gabrielle looked from the key to the innkeeper. “You’re not going to get him, Xena? I wanted you to get him.”

“I know you did, Gabrielle. Maybe later.” She consoled her friend as she wrapped her arm around slumped shoulders. “Cooome on. Come on. That’s it. Here we go.”

Watching the innkeeper get further and further away, the bard sighed a heavy sigh.

Sometime later two larger than normal bowls sat empty on a small rickety table with gnawed wooden spoons in them. Beside them was an empty pitcher and two empty mugs. Beside the table was a rickety chair with a saddle bag laying in the seat. On the other side of the smallish room from the rickety table and chair were two rickety beds. In one of these beds was a blonde woman, curled up beneath the covers facing the wall and asleep. Across from that bed was the other and in it was another woman, but this one wasn’t blonde, curled up or asleep. This one was brunette, stretched out and wide awake because the blonde woman in the other bed was talking in her sleep.

Not a rare occurrence and not a common one either, Xena listened to Gabrielle mumble. Laying with her hands behind her head and staring at the ceiling, the warrior’s expression changed to coincide with the snippets of their life together the bard was recounting. Bits and pieces only, some were from the first person perspective while others were direct quotes from the scrolls Gabrielle had penned to chronicle the adventurous life she had been so desperately seeking when they had met so many years before. When Gabrielle was still the naive, fast talking girl who had struck out on her own to follow a former warlord waiting to be recreated into a legendary hero . . .

[insert favorite memories to Mariah Carey’s ‘Hero’ and Chrissie Hynde’s ‘I’ll Stand By You’ and Bette Midler’s ‘My One True Friend’]

. . . after an hour of listening to Gabrielle ramble on about the past 6 years in her sleep, Xena hadn’t learned anything new about the rocky road they had traveled together or the person she had traveled it with, although many of the things she felt about their journey and the bard had been reinforced. Their eternal friendship came first. Their undying love came second and that nothing would tear them apart, and that the world was a better place because one naive girl refused to ever give up on the woman who would change it forever.

Hearing the ramblings turn into disgruntled rumblings, Xena turned her head to see a poor defenseless pillow get slapped, poked and prodded into submission. A knowing smile playing on her lips, she stifled the chuckle that went with it and waited for Gabrielle to go back to sleep. But rather than that happening, she rolled her eyes when the blonde sat up straight in bed to throw the pillow at the wall. Knowing what was coming next, she took one hand from behind her head to pull the covers to one side.

[fade in with the piano intro to Sarah McLachlan’s ‘Angel’]

Whipping the scratchy blanket off her body in irritation, Gabrielle was still mostly asleep as she got out of bed. Her bare feet shuffling a short distance away, the bard huffed and puffed as she crawled in next to Xena. Snuggling up to a body that was more comfortable than the bed she’d vacated, she went right back to sleep when her head came to rest on a soft strong shoulder.

Xena pulled the blanket back over her body, bringing it to cover Gabrielle as well, then she wrapped her arm around the the bard’s shoulders. Staring at the ceiling a moment longer, she gently stroked the blonde head next to her’s and gave it a kiss before closing her eyes.

Spend all your time waiting
for that second chance
For a break that would make it okay
There's always one reason
to feel not good enough
And it's hard at the end of the day
I need some distraction
oh, beautiful release
Memory seeps from my veins
Let me be empty
and weightless and maybe
I'll find some peace tonight

In the arms of the angel
fly away from here
From this dark, cold hotel room,
and the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage
of your silent reverie
You're in the arms of the angel;
may you find some comfort here

So tired of the straight line,
and everywhere you turn
There's vultures and thieves
at your back
The storm keeps on twisting,
you keep on building the lie
That you make up for all
that you lack
It don't make no difference,
escaping one last time
It's easier to believe
In this sweet madness,
oh this glorious sadness
That brings me to my knees

In the arms of the angel
fly away from here
From this dark, cold hotel room,
and the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage
of your silent reverie
In the arms of the angel;
may you find some comfort here

You're in the arms of the angel;
may you find some comfort here

. . . and we did.


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