Characters from Xena: Warrior Princess and Hercules: The Legendary Journeys are property of MCA/Universal/Renaissance. No copyright infringement is intended. Jadzia Dax belongs to UPN and whoever else (It's been a while since I've seen the closing of DS9). Other real-life persons mentioned belong to themselves. m&m's belong to m&m/Mars.
This is a work of alternative fan fiction. No profit will be gained from its production. This piece of fiction is copyright of the author.
There are depictions of love/sex between consenting adult persons of the same gender. If this is illegal where you live, you are underage, or the concept upsets your delicate balance of thought, then stop reading here and find something more appropriate to your tastes and/or laws.
Thank you for taking the time to read the stuff above, and hopefully, the stuff below.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I don't know where this came from...but you know when you've been furiously working on a great story and you want to describe that perfect scene, but for some reason, the right words just never make it to the screen?
I personally use the word 'pop' when describing a sweet, carbonated beverage, but in this story, I use the word 'soda-pop' so that a majority of readers don't say "HUH?"
Comments can be sent to email@example.com
Xena and Gabrielle Lend a Hand
Copyright April 24, 1998
Fade In: Modern-day America - Xenite Country.
"Xena, where exactly are we going?"
The warrior concentrated on guiding her warhorse down the busy two-lane road, flipping the bird and fighting for control of Argo's reins when a passing sports car sped around them. "I told you, we got a summons from Theauthor."
Xena rubbed at the tenseness that had taken hold between her brows. "Gabrielle, Theauthor is a very powerful being, capable of the most incredible magic."
"Well, why did he...or she...or whatever...why were we called?"
The warrior chuckled dryly at the bard's attempts to communicate. "Theauthor is the name of an omniscient race."
"But I thought that 'Theauthor' was an individual."
"Oh, it is. They're all named Theauthor."
"The same as their race?"
"Hey, this looks like the place," the warrior observed, squinting to read the fading numbers on the front of the house and comparing them to those on the piece of parchment she pulled from her cleavage. "Come on," she urged, tying Argo's reigns to a shrub that had seen better days.
The bard's knocks on the door were answered by a young boy sticking his nose against the glass and shouting loud enough for the neighbors down the street to hear, "Mom, they're here!"
The bard thought that perhaps the boy was mentally soft, for he starting to dance in circles like an Amazon, singing off-key snippets of Joxer's warrior song. She looked up to the warrior who shrugged.
"Here Theauthor comes," the warrior warned, her muscles coiled, ready for any sign of trouble.
The bard heaved a breath of relief when she saw, in this case, Theauthor was a woman. At least she wouldn't have to call her 'it' while they were there. The woman wore a baseball cap to hold her long hair in place. A flannel shirt billowed behind her as she wiped her hands on her faded blue jeans.
Theauthor peered through the glass of the heavy door, relief transforming the agitated lines on her face. Opening the door, she smiled nervously and asked them to enter. Without preamble, she led the couple to a back room.
The bard tightened her grip on her staff when the boy followed, giggling under his breath, "Three naked Gabrielles...'I'm Joxer, Joxer the Mighty'...." Rolling her neck, the bard tried to ease the tension that had begun to build.
After the warrior had scanned the room that Theauthor had led them to, she gingerly stepped around piles of paper and boxes. Her nose scrunched up in distaste at the disheveled clutter that seemed to close on her. In the middle of the mess, as if a focal point, was a well-worn swivel-rocker that was placed in front of a desk. The bard's coo of appreciation puzzled her.
"Oh...Xena...look, a computer. And a story, too!"
Theauthor put out a hand to stop the bard from seating herself in the chair to read the words that crowded the monitor, but the point of the warrior's sword at her throat froze her in mid-motion. "Sorry," she mumbled. Then to the bard, she explained, "It's not finished yet, and I really prefer that you not read it, at least not until it's done."
Gabrielle nodded her understanding. "Yeah, I feel the same way...sorry, I didn't think."
Kicking a couple of small boxes out of her way, Theauthor made her way into the room so that she could see the computer screen, her brow wrinkling in thought. When the warrior cleared her throat, the woman jumped.
"Why did you call us here," she asked, slightly agitated.
Theauthor's response was cut short by the little boy. "Hey, mom, 'Xena's da bomb'," he shouted, his voice rising to shrill tones as he rolled his eyes and darted away before Theauthor could order him out of the room.
"I'm sorry," she apologized. "He's just a little goofy sometimes."
"Sometimes," the bard muttered under her breath in question.
"Theauthor...," Xena growled.
"Oh, yeah...why I called you here. Well, you see, I've really gotten into this writing thing...well, actually, writing about you two, and uh...well...."
Theauthor's frustration was pushed to the edge when the boy poked his head around the doorframe once more and began doing his "Meg" imitation, screaming, "I am the holy woman!"
Theauthor slammed her palm onto her keyboard in anger. "I swear, he only does that to annoy me...."
Xena fingered her chakram casually. "Is that why you called us here? To take care of that nuisance?"
Muttering under her breath as she held down the ''backspace' key to erase the inadvertent characters she had punched onto the monitor, Theauthor looked up in alarm. "No...he's my son," she cried. "As much as drives me crazy...I can't let you kill him."
"How about if I just render him unconscious," the bard asked through gritted teeth, wincing in pain when the boy's Joxer song rose several decibels.
Theauthor went to put a stilling hand on the bard's wrist, but realized her error and let her hand drop. She quickly glanced to the warrior and saw the 'Hands Off' light in the icy blue eyes. She drew a deep breath and gathered her courage. Forcing herself to keep the warrior's gaze, she tried to answer her question. "I asked you here because I'm stuck...writer's block or something," she admitted, slumping into the swivel rocker.
The bard patted her stooped shoulder and offered condolences. "I've been there. Here, let me take a look at it and see if I can offer any solutions."
Theauthor nodded her consent as she grabbed an aluminum bundt pan and fork. Resigned to Gabrielle's help, she began to pick at the angel-food cake that had passed the fresh stage several days back.
While the bard and Theauthor were reading through the story, Xena carefully turned around, glancing at the chaos of the room. "You sure do have a lot of junk in here," she observed, carefully stepping over a pile of CD's that were stacked by a boom-box in the middle of the room.
"I have a habit of collecting things," Theauthor admitted without thought.
The warrior studied the posters that adorned the walls. "Aren't you kind of old to have a room like this," she asked without tact, barely catching Theauthor's response about a lost childhood. "Who are all these people," she questioned.
Without taking her eyes from the monitor, Theauthor pointed around the room at various pictures and replied, "Jadzia Dax, Terry Farrell, Hercules/Xena Animated Movie, Chief Red Cloud, Elvis, Jesus Christ, and Stevie Nicks."
The bard, who had been concentrating on Theauthor's story, was startled when the other woman cursed herself when she had reached for a bottle of water, and instead, bumped several soda-pop cans, sending them and an overflowing ashtray tumbling to the floor.
The bard returned her attention to the computer. She had been caught up in what she had been reading, intrigued by the story that had been unfolding as she scrolled down the pages of Theauthor's untitled work of fiction.
When Theauthor vacated her chair and knelt to retrieve the fallen cans, she fell into the vacant seat and motioned the warrior to her side. "Xena, this is about us," she whispered, continuing to read, her lips moving with the words.
"So? You aren't the only one that writes about our adventures," the warrior replied, unconcerned.
"But, Xena, this has S_E_X in it!!"
The warrior raised her brow. "You don't have to spell it out, Gabrielle. A lot of stories have sex in them."
The bard's blush disappeared down into her cleavage, followed by the warrior's eyes. "But, Xena, we're the ones having sex," she explained in an emphatic whisper.
The tall woman bent over to whisper into the bard's ear. "And your point is?"
"Gabrielle," she purred, "it was bound to happen. It's obvious how I feel about you."
The bard felt another kind of heat rush through her body. She maintained a strenuous hold on her argument. "But, it's so...graphic!"
The warrior raised her other brow as she bent over the bard's shoulder and began to read at a passage that the smaller woman had pointed. The words on the glowing screen started a wet trickle between her legs. She had to admit that Theauthor was somewhat decent at describing certain aspects of her life with Gabrielle. Not as good as the bard, but not that bad, either.
Quickly, she scanned through the rest of the document, eager to see how the story ended. To her chagrin, however, the words stopped in mid-sentence, right after she and the bard had declared their love and had begun to passionately rip the clothes off of each other. "Where's the rest of it," she asked, her throat suddenly dry.
Theauthor looked up from her position on the floor where she had found a handful of 'm&m's' that she had dropped last week. Looking at what the warrior was referring to, she shrugged. "I don't know, it just won't come off the keyboard," she sighed, popping another candy-coated chocolate into her mouth.
The bard leaned over the side of the chair and began rifling through scattered pages of hardcopy, looking for any treats that Theauthor might have missed. "Is that why you called us here," she asked, her eyes lighting when she found an unopened candy bar, tucking it away in her bottomless bag for later enjoyment.
"I don't know," Theauthor replied dejectedly. "I just can't do it."
The warrior, really needing to read the rest of the story, offered a live demonstration, and began to remove her weapons.
The boy charging into the room stilled her hands. "Hey, Gabs with the mighty-abs, you kissed Autolycus."
Xena, angered by the boy's intrusion growled under her breath, "She did not."
"Did so," the boy answered and ran from the room before the warrior could react.
"Theauthor, did you ever once, just once, think that maybe HE'S the reason you have a block?"
Theauthor considered the point. "Could be. Every time he comes in the room, I have to minimize my screen, and I lose my train of thought, and then I lose my temper." She sighed again, reaching for the angel-food cake once more, and then throwing it into a corner where there was a box overflowed with junk food wrappers and soda-pop cans. "I'm really sorry, guys. I shouldn't have called you. I should be doing this on my own."
The bard, distracted by the warrior's hot breath against her ear, stuttered, "I...I...uh...could finish it for you."
Theauthor waved away the offer. "No, I have to do it myself," she answered, resolved to solve her own problem. "But thanks anyway."
"You could finish it for ME," the warrior husked into the bard's ear.
The bard jumped to her feet and wiped a hand across her heated brow. "Well, uh...Theauthor...it was great to meet you and all, but, we REALLY gotta be going now." Shaking the woman's hand she latched onto the warrior's arm and dragged the taller woman out of the house.
Theauthor slumped and sighed dejectedly, trying to put into words the pictures that played out in her head, with no greater success than she had before Xena and Gabrielle had visited. Half an hour later, she finally got to her feet to answer the piteous cries for dinner that echoed through the house. "Maybe it's time to find a new obsession," she muttered as she put a frozen dinner in the microwave, and then dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. She vowed to figure it out, ignoring the boy who was swinging an imaginary staff at her. Maybe after he went to bed....
Oh...and, yes, lately my son has been driving me insane singing Joxer's song. So I return the favor in kind by singing every word from "The Bitter Suite," and I am a horrible singer <G>.
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