DISCLAIMERS AND WARNINGS: This site and its author have no connection whatsoever with the actual show Xena: Warrior Princess. That show and all its characters are the property of its creators and the appropriate licensed agencies. This site is run for fun by a fan, and no profit is made from it. Gods willing, there is nothing here to sue me over.

This site is subtext friendly, and yes, some of the stories may contain graphic descriptions of sex between two women. Some of the stories may also contain graphic descriptions of sex between men and women. There may also be a certain degree of violence in some of the stories. They may contain all sorts of things. I won't know for sure until they have been written after all. In any event, if this type of content offends you, or if you are under the age of 18, or if this is illegal where you live, please go away.

SPECIFIC TO THIS STORY: The Characters Xena and Gabrielle belong to RenPics et al. I make no claim to their creation. Original characters and situations are mine and no fault of the PTB's. Major Warning for Violence Later in the story, small degree of het content (not our girls of course). Not exactly my usual type of story... darker overtones... but still Uber, more or less.

OUT OF THE SHADOWS

CHAPTER TWO

The warrior sat back on her heels beside the bed, watching the girl sleep. These rooms weren't much, but then she had never needed much by way of possessions. A dry place, a haven from the weather, was all the comfort she needed, all the comfort she deserved. It had been a long time since anybody else had been there with her. In truth, in this place, the girl was the first.

The old Chinese reprobate from downstairs had said the girl was lucky to be alive. The warrior had believed she was dead for a few heart-stopping moments after the fight. The pain and panic had been almost as bad as, as… Cursing under her breath, the dark woman sprang to her feet and paced to the window. She refused to let herself go there again. This girl was not Gabrielle; she couldn't be. There would have to be some other, more rational explanation.

Staring out through the cracked and dirty glass, she wondered what she should do next. The girl couldn't stay here, it would be far too uncomfortable. As soon as she was up, she was on her own. The warrior had long since cast aside the social skills necessary to deal with a companion. Besides, she was a fighter, not a babysitter. Whoever this girl was, she definitely needed watching over. The little fool had been deliberately heading straight into the Burnouts. Nobody in her right mind did that. It was tantamount to suicide. No way was she going to play keeper, no way at all.

The Asher situation was too close to the boiling point, she had to get in there fast. If someone didn’t slow them down, there would be a bloodbath in the City. Those who passed themselves off as law enforcement there were afraid to venture into the Burnouts. They thought that violating the uneasy peace would make the situation worse. They were too blind to realize that the Ashers viewed their restraint as weakness. They would do nothing, there would be no official action taken.

That was where the warrior fit in. Oh, she hadn’t been asked to intervene. It simply needed doing and that was what she did, the only justification for her unreasonably long life. Fighting was all she knew anymore. Once, a very long time ago, she had had a reason for fighting, a reason to live. Through the years she had lost sight of that reason, the battle itself had become her life. She had been fighting for so long that one battle blurred seamlessly into the next, the people and places forgotten, unimportant. Over the centuries, it had become impersonal, safely distant. This girl’s presence had jeopardized that balance, threatening to make her think and feel again. It was a luxury she could no longer afford; she had a job to do.

Tomorrow the girl could go her own way, and the warrior could get back to haunting the edge of the Burnouts. Once she was alone in that shadowy half-life, things would get back to normal. There would be no more ghosts of the past to trouble her soul, no more painful reminders of what she had once lost. She would be able to concentrate on the business at hand without distraction then. Sooner or later, someone was bound to lead her to the top and she could bring the bloody Ashers to their knees. This time though, she'd move on after she was done, find a new place before the past swallowed her again. Caught up in her thoughts, she didn’t move until the girl came to stand beside her in questioning silence.

Gwyn wove in and out of consciousness, drifting contentedly between clarity and confusion. Slowly however reality began to creep in, gaining a foothold in recent memory. There had been a fight! Her last clear recollection was her body failing her at last; that and the agonized scream that had echoed through the ruins. It was too strange for words, the way the sound had echoed the dreams that had driven her into the Burnouts to begin with. Far too strange.

They were nothing spectacular as far as dreams go, or at least they shouldn't have been. Hazy nightmares driven by fear and grief, they were normal enough on the surface. The difference lay in the sense of conviction they held; the certainty that they were real. She could not escape the thought that she had to find the person who screamed, had to help them somehow. She knew with a peculiar certainty that only by doing this would she find the peace, the sense of belonging that she had always somehow lacked. It made no sense, and yet against her better judgment she had gone seeking answers in the Burnout.

She had practiced for weeks with her staff, honing skills she hadn't known she possessed until finally she could not distance the need any longer. She had to go, had to find and help the one she heard grieving even as she slept. That oddly driven search had led her into Asher territory, taking her straight into hell. She had scoured the outer reaches of the Burnouts relentlessly for several weeks, to little avail. There had been no trace of the person in her dreams.

She just wound up fighting the inhabitants on a regular basis. Finally the fruitless search had been too much and she had turned her search farther into the wastes, straight into the heart of the Burnouts.

Cautiously, Kayl dropped to her belly and inched toward the gap in the walls. There was no way she wanted one of the Alphas to find her now. If they did, they'd never let her talk to Magnus. It wasn't in their nature to lend any importance to the imagination of a mere woman, let alone a crazy one. She knew what they thought of her, but it had long since ceased to matter. They would pay for it eventually, but she had bigger and better things to worry about at the moment.

Avoiding them had taken its toll however. It had taken her most of the day to get near the Camp. Magnus had set himself up in what had once been a park, using the remains of the public buildings as his headquarters. As usual, he had the perimeter well guarded. From the look of things, he had three rings of sentries now; two men each, patrolling in concentric circles. At any given time, there would be at least one guard directly between her and the center of the Camp. No doubt the unreasonable bastard had the dogs out too.

Magnus was nothing if not paranoid. Unfortunately, that meant she was going to have the devil's own time getting to him. Satisfied for the moment, she edged backwards until she was certain she could not be seen before she stood. Dusting herself off, Kayl slipped through the lengthening shadows toward the jumble of shattered stone where she'd hidden her gear. This was going to take some thought.

Crouching down in the shadow of the rocks, she emptied her pack on the ground. The contents were meager, a real embarrassment of riches. Aside from her small arsenal and a few morsels of food gleaned in the City, there was little of consequence. They'd hit a lot of construction sites last night, and her share of the take had been mostly tools. Several razor knives lay in the heap, as well as a wickedly serrated drywall saw. Screwdrivers and chisels tumbled randomly amid them, but the most spectacular find had been a small portable torch with a full fuel bottle.

She rocked back on her heels and contemplated the haphazard assortment. There had to be something there that would work. Chewing absently on a dry strip of unidentified meat, she eyed the propane torch thoughtfully. A wicked gleam lit her dark eyes as an idea began to take shape. Magnus wasn't going to like it at all, but there was a certain poetic justice to it that she couldn't resist.

Gwyn had been aware for some time of the tall stranger's presence at her side. She endured the silent scrutiny, seemingly unaware until she heard the other move away from the bed. Opening one eye cautiously, she turned her head toward the sound. Once again, all she could make out was a vague form across the room. She was tall, much taller than Gwyn, and looked to be in good physical condition in the dim light that shone through a dirty window. A surreptitious look around the room disclosed nothing. The room was small and shabby, and there were no homey personal touches. But for their presence, it would have appeared unoccupied.

Who was this woman? Why had she rescued Gwyn? What was her connection to the haunting dreams? These questions and more whirled through Gwyn's mind, clamoring for answers. In the last few instants before the fight, the woman had acted almost as if she knew her. Then there was her own uncanny sense of recognition, the surety that she had at long last found her home. It was so bizarre, there had to be a rational explanation for it all somehow.

Something had drawn her into the Burnouts, some indefinable sense of need. Abandoned as an infant, she had never known such a feeling. Growing up without a family, without a history, had left an echoing void in her very core. She couldn't help but answer the cry when it came, resonating as it did with the hollows of her soul. It was the first time in her life she'd ever felt like she was needed, like there was a cure for the loneliness that ate away inside her. The people at the orphanage had always made it abundantly clear that they considered their charges to be superfluous human beings, unnecessary reminders of the Uprisings.

Nothing more than a burden on society. The bitter thought came to Gwyn unbidden, placed there by years of endless repetition. She had never quite been able to accept it as fact. There had to be an explanation for her life, some sort of higher purpose. There had to be. The need for answers finally drove her from the bed. Hesitantly, she approached the woman by the window.

Looking down at the girl was a mistake. The warrior found her gaze locked, mesmerized by two pools of limpid emerald fire. All rational thought stopped for an instant that stretched into an eternity. She was too much like Gabrielle. The pain rose like a black tide in her soul, threatening to drown her. Desperate to break the contact, to eliminate the feeling somehow, her voice was harsh and cold. "What in Tartarus did you think you were doing? You could have been killed."

"I was… I was looking for someone… someone I saw in a dream. Who are you?" the girl's voice was quiet, her tone even despite her hesitation.

Gods! It was so unnerving, she even sounded like Gabrielle. Everything about her, the tilt of her head, the slight impatience in her eyes as she waited for an answer, everything was like her. Up close, it was even more devastating than she could have imagined. It took everything she had to keep her voice cold and expressionless. "Who I am need not concern you. After today, you will go back to whatever safe little nest you wandered away from, and I will go on with my work."

Those damn green eyes regarded her thoughtfully, seeming to see straight through her pretense. If she had thought to discourage the girl, she knew she'd failed miserably. She could see the determination rising, recognized all too well the defiant set of the chin.

Finally the girl shrugged and turned away from her. When she spoke, her tone was almost flippant. "Have it your way. You do what you must, I'll do what I must. If you are not the one, I'll keep just looking. Might I at least know the name of one to whom I owe my life?"

Damned if the girl wasn't being sarcastic. The caustic tongue was something she had not expected, something the bard had never fully developed. She'd had her moments, but they had not been backed by the bitterness she was hearing now. Something had tempered this girl, hardening her spirit, reinforcing it. Not that Gabrielle had been weak, far from it. Her force of will, her element of faith, had been the warrior's salvation many times over. This girl had a different kind of strength, the kind nurtured by pain.

In the end, it was that strength that caused her to answer. Dredging her name from the dark recesses of memory where it lay hidden, she gave it grudgingly. "Xena. My name is Xena."

The change in the young woman's demeanor was remarkable. Green eyes sparkling with some emotion the warrior could not identify, the girl accepted it gravely. Her voice took on the cadence of a ceremonial speech. "Xena. For my life and the gift of your name, I am in your debt. From this day forward, know I am with you. I am called Gwyn."

Gwyn. It was as if she recognized it somehow, had known it already, in the hidden recesses of her heart. Gwyn. The sound seemed to echo through the room, reverberating through the warrior like a bell. With it came a sense of wonder, of almost reverential awe that struck Xena momentarily dumb. By the time she found her voice, the girl had gathered her few belongings from the floor and slipped out of the room.

Gwyn went down the dimly lit and narrow stairs as quickly as she dared. What had possessed her back there? She had meant to get some answers from the woman, but instead had come off sounding like some poet out of legend. That sort of courtly formality was not her usual style, where had it come from? It was almost as if someone else had spoken. The stricken look on the warrior's face had sent her fleeing from the room.

It was obvious that the warrior didn't want her around. Despite that, she was more certain than ever that they were meant to be together. She knew nothing about the woman; all she had was her name: Xena. Even thinking it set up an eerie tingling in her bones, as if it should mean something to her. It was almost like she had somehow forgotten it. The feeling had been even more intense in the instant that she had first heard the name spoken.

At the bottom of the stairs, she stopped suddenly. If this was what she was searching for, why was she leaving? She wasn't a quitter, never had been. If this warrior, this Xena, needed her she couldn't just walk away. But how was she supposed to help if the other wanted to be left alone? She had seen both darkness and fear in the woman's vivid blue eyes, a deep shadowed grief. That had to be what she was meant to deal with, what caused the pain she dreamt of.

A new sense of resolve built in her. Wanted or not, she would do what she must. The dreams would stop plaguing her once she had carried through, she was sure of it. If she couldn't help openly, then she would have to follow Xena. She would help her any way she could, but she would not betray her own presence. Mind made up, she settled herself in a shadowy doorway opposite the warrior's building. When she came out, Gwyn would follow.

Text & Original Images (c) M.C. Sak 2000

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