This is a sequel to Creative License and won't make much sense unless you've read that story first. Warning: pure silliness ahead. I was just in that kind of mood.

Reality Check
The Further Adventures of Xena & Gabrielle

by Ella Quince

The woodland glade was restored to tranquility in the aftermath of that morning's battle. Only one combatant, and her companion, remained in the arena. Just as well, since there was only one felled log on which to sit and the warrior was in need of a resting place.

"I wish you'd warn me before you start re-enacting my stories, especially the really bloody ones," said Gabrielle, dabbing at the wound on Xena's forehead.

Xena winced as the stinging salve took effect. "This wasn't exactly 'The Gauntlet,' Gabrielle."

"Maybe not," said the bard, swallowing audibly as she wiped away a thin rivulet of blood. "But greed triumphed over honor, delivering your army into the hands of a despicable minion of Ares."

"Oh, Darphus is all right, even if he did force a change of management. And he only whacked me because we couldn't agree on the sale terms. He gets a little aggressive when he's frustrated, which is a useful trait in an up-and-coming warlord."

"Uh, Xena... I'm—I'm not feeling... so good..."

"Oops!" Xena jumped to her feet, catching the swaying bard in her arms. "Here, sit down and put your head between your knees." Rubbing Gabrielle's back, she said, "You're not used to all this blood, are you?"

"No," admitted Gabrielle weakly.

"That's probably why you can tell such gory stories. It doesn't seem real to you." Thank the gods.... Xena smiled fondly at the pale-faced young woman, then leaned down and gently kissed her on the forehead.

"What's that for?"

"A remedy for fainting."

Gabrielle smiled, color returning to her cheeks. "It does seem to help." She sat up with an enthusiastic gleam in her eye. "Maybe we should—"

"I wouldn't want to overdose you," teased Xena.

"Too late for that," replied Gabrielle smugly. "If too much kissing is bad for us, we're going to die young."

"But happy," said Xena cheerfully. "Very happy."

"I'm sorry about your army, though."

"I'm not." The warlord bent down and scooped up the small purse of gold coins Darphus had finally thrown at her feet. It was lighter than the sum she had asked for, but considering he could have killed her instead, it was a generous settlement. "As business ventures go, my army wasn't a resounding success. So it's time to move on and put my skills to better use."

"What do you have in mind?"

"I dunno." She whistled for the chestnut gelding grazing on the meadow grass at the edge of the glade. "We'll just have to see what turns up."

"Now that I think about it, this is going to be fun," said Gabrielle, determined to find some good in their reversal of fortune. "Traveling on the road together, having adventures just like Gabrielle and the Warrior Princess. What more could a bard ask for?"

---

"Aw, Hades!" hissed Gabrielle, squirming yet again to avoid the pointed rocks that littered the hard ground beneath her. Unfortunately, the chains on her wrists and ankles severely restricted her movement. On top of that, she was hungry and cold... and even just a little scared.

She studied the scruffy trio of men who were bunched around the blazing fire, a fire that was too far away to offer her any warmth. They were deep in furious discussion, but she couldn't make out their words. "What do you think is going to happen to us?" she whispered to the woman lying beside her.

Xena tried to shrug, but her bonds were too tight. With a frustrated sigh, she said, "Well, considering that I don't really have any mortal enemies, he just thinks I do..."

"It could take awhile for him find someone who wants to ransom the Warrior Princess," realized Gabrielle. "Oh, Xena, this is all my fault!"

The warlord shook her head. "No it's not, Gabrielle. These are thugs, so they would have robbed us anyway, then probably killed us if they hadn't recognized me. Besides, it doesn't matter why they attacked — I should have been able to protect you. Some warrior I've turned out to be," she said glumly. "More like a scroll-pusher with delusions of grandeur."

"Xena, you were outnumbered three to one. I thought you were splendid. If there'd only been two of them, you would have won for sure."

"The Warrior Princess can rout an entire army."

"Yes, but she has me as a choreographer. And I'll have you know it took me days to work out that fight scene against the Persians. If the guys who jumped us had made an appointment ahead of time, I could have written one for you too."

And despite their desperate situation, they began to laugh...

"This is a trick, right?"

Startled, Xena looked up to find the burly leader of their captors looming over her. He appeared to be the only one of the men still left in the campsite.

"It was too easy," he said, nervously licking his lips. "You just let us take you, even though there were only three of us. Which means you wanted to be captured." He broke out into a sweat and began to fumble in his pockets for the keys to the locks. "I'm no fool. It just isn't worth the risk. You might not believe this, but I have a wife and children, and I really want to get back to them. Alive, not in pieces."

Xena and Gabrielle exchanged incredulous looks as he jumped back, anxiously waiting for them slip off their chains.

"Please, Xena, don't hold this against me," he pleaded. "According to the bards, you've changed, you're merciful now, right?"

"Uh, yeah," said Xena as she and Gabrielle scrambled to their feet. At a prod from her companion she assumed a dour expression and growled, "But it's a good thing you let us loose, because what I had planned for you..." She trailed off, her brow wrinkling in concentration.

"Whooo, you don't want to know!" interjected Gabrielle quickly, before Xena's lack of imagination became too obvious.

"No! No, I don't!"

"Good save," whispered the warlord as their captor turned heel and ran.

"That's what bards are for," said Gabrielle.

---

By dawn they were on the road again, walking side by side, with the gelding ambling in their wake. It was, reflected Gabrielle, an eerily familiar scenario, as if she'd stepped into the middle of one of her own tales. Except, of course, that this Xena was much too good-natured to bear any resemblance to a brooding, haunted mass-murdering warlord with a hair-trigger temper and lethal killing skills. Upon further reflection, the bard decided this was probably a good thing....

"Tell me another one," said Xena, still chuckling at the thought of a royal princess who was her mirror image.

"Okay, how about the Callisto trilogy next?"

"Great, that's one of my favorites... only leave out Joxer."

"Hey! I'm in those scenes with him, too, you know."

"Necessary collateral damage," said the warlord, dismissing Gabrielle's protest. "If he'd tried to join my army I would have gutted him on the spot."

"I thought you were a kinder, gentler sort of warlord."

"Not that kind, not that gentle."

"I think you're being very close-minded. Joxer is the comic relief, an advanced literary device only recently introduced into contemporary oral narratives."

"Too advanced for me," said Xena flatly. "Besides, it's not as if his scenes further the plot."

"Everyone's a critic," muttered the bard.

Xena's reply was cut off by the gelding snorting loudly and pulling at the reins in her hands. "Steady, steady," she soothed, trying to calm the horse, who appeared to be on the verge of bolting.

"What's wrong?"

"Beats me."

"I don't suppose it has anything to do with the smoke that's blowing our way?" asked Gabrielle.

Xena sniffed loudly, then frowned. "Damn sinuses...."

Gabrielle stared at her companion. "Just what are the minimum qualifications for a warlord these days?"

"I had scouts, okay?" snapped Xena. "I paid them good money to notice details like that."

"Yes, yes, of course," said Gabrielle tactfully. "So," she continued with a bright smile and a shiver of anticipation, "what do we do now?"

"Do?" Xena looked at her blankly.

"About the fire."

"We go around it," said the warlord.

"Xena, we can't ignore a town that's been set ablaze by a ruthless conqueror! We have to help them fight—" Gabrielle broke off, unsettled by the smirk on the warlord's face. "What?"

"There's no town in that direction. Some farmer is probably burning the stubble in his fields."

"You don't know that for sure," said the bard with a stubborn jut of her chin. "There could be rapacious raiders just over that hill, rampaging in a frenzy of blood lust as they loot and pillage a defenseless farm."

"Wrong time of year for looting farmers. The harvests are over and crops have been taken to market by now. Rapacious blood-lusting raiders are off attacking city granaries instead."

"Oh."

"But it does make a good story," said Xena kindly. Then, with a sudden start, she cocked her head, listening intently. "Someone's coming."

"That's more like it." Gabrielle was suitably gratified by this proof of her companion's keen hearing. Bouncing on her toes, she tried to peek over the hill to see the dangerous assailant who was approaching. Her face fell at the sight of a stoop-shouldered figure in worn clothing.

"Uh, oh," whispered Xena under her breath. "Trouble."

"Really?" The bard's pulse quickened as she studied the peasant who was shuffling his way toward them. "He looks harmless, but obviously you've seen through his disguise. Who is he: a warrior, an assassin, a god in mortal raiments?"

"Hurry up, Gabrielle," said Xena, panic edging her voice as she grabbed the bard's elbow and yanked her into motion. "I've seen that look before. He's a lecherous old man who's going to want to keep us company all the way to Athens."

But it was too late. The man's gait was faster than it looked.

"Hey, don't I know you?" called out the peasant as he fell into step beside them.

"Umm, I don't think so," said Xena, tugging at the gelding to pick up his pace.

"Yeah, yeah, sure I do. You're that warrior princess gal... Xener."

Gabrielle winced. "That's 'Xena.'"

He nodded sagely. "That's what I said, Xener."

"I'm sorry to be the bearer of sad tidings," proclaimed the young bard, assuming a dramatic visage of grief and woe, "but the Warrior Princess is dead, crucified by the Romans."

"She looks like a pretty lively corpse to me," cackled the man. His eyes fixed on the warlord's breastplate. Peering more closely, he added, "You been eating enough lately? You're skinnier than I expected."

"Death will do that to you," muttered Xena through a clenched jaw.

"This is my lucky day," the peasant crowed, his gaze shifting over to Gabrielle's generous bustline. "Two lovely young ladies and me with a full week's pay. So, what's the going rate for the both of you, dearie? And don't try to charge me those big city prices. We're still a half-day's walk from Athens, and I know what's a fair rate around here."

Oh, gods...we're doomed, thought the bard as she began to realize the full magnitude of their peril.

---

"I wouldn't have held it against you," insisted Gabrielle as they wound their way through the crowded city streets. "One little jab with the sword, not enough to disembowel him, just enough to draw blood and slow him down."

Xena shook her head, her mouth twitching with restrained laughter. "Occupational hazard, my bard. If I attacked every obnoxious man I met while traveling, I'd have to lay waste to half the countryside."

"And this is a problem, why?" prompted Gabrielle. Four hours in the company of a garrulous, doddering lecher had seriously eroded her temper. He had stuck to them with the tenacity of a starving leech until the last mile of their journey, then pinched her on the butt when he left.

"Now do you understand why I loathe Joxer?"

"Touché," said the bard. "I'll kill him off in my next story. That's a promise."

"Remind me to make an offering to Athena," said Xena gratefully. "She's obviously heard my prayers." Then, with a cluck of encouragement, she led her horse off the road and into a tidy stable yard.

A lanky young stablehand stopped pitching hay and ambled over. He nodded a polite greeting to the warlord, but then his eyes sidled to the belly of her horse. "That's a gelding," he said in an accusing tone.

"Uh, yes, the last time I checked he was," agreed Xena.

"But where's Argo?"

She sighed heavily. This was going to be a long day. "I'm not Xena. At least, I'm not that Xena."

The lad guffawed. "Yeah, right. She's okay isn't she?"

"Who, Xena? Actually, she's dead."

"No, Argo," he said stubbornly. His forehead creased with worry. "She didn't get hurt or anything, did she?"

"But I don't have—"

"I've always wanted to meet Argo," he continued anxiously.

"Argo is just fine," said Gabrielle, deciding this wasn't a battle she and Xena could win. "We left her with... Xena's mother."

"Oh, that's okay then." He hoisted their saddlebags and bedrolls off the gelding. "Guess we can count on Cyrene to take good care of her."

Xena stared at him incredulously, but the bard just nodded in agreement. "Yes, Cyrene is pretty reliable."

As the stablehand led the gelding into the barn, Xena shook her head in amazement. "But I don't have a horse named Argo. I don't even have a mother."

"Well, you do now," said Gabrielle wearily, "so just go with it."

"I thought I'd be anonymous in Athens," complained Xena as they carried their packs to the adjacent inn. "Or at least inconspicuous. Surely the citizens of the most cosmopolitan city in Greece can tell the difference between fact and fiction?"

"Now, now, don't judge the entire population based on the reaction of one illiterate stablehand." Gabrielle smiled brightly at the dour-faced innkeeper who was slumped against the doorway of his establishment. "We'd like a room, please."

"Yeah, I figured that. One bed or two?"

Xena blushed at the drawled inquiry, but Gabrielle answered calmly. "One bed is fine."

"About time," muttered the innkeeper, his expression softening slightly.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, nothing." He opened the door for them and pointed to a flight of stairs. "Second room on your left."

"Am I imagining things or did he wink at us?" asked Xena as they climbed up to the second floor.

"I'm sure it was a trick of the light."

"Like Hades it was. I'll bet he also thinks we're Xena and Gabrielle — I mean, that Xena and Gabrielle — and that we... they... are finally lovers."

"Well, we are."

"But we're dead."

"Love endures!" proclaimed the bard as she flung open the door to their room.

They both stared in dismay at the cramped space and its drab furnishings, then took a hesitant step inside. There was barely enough room to take yet another step.

"They need to dust more often," said Xena critically, wiping a finger across a tabletop. She rubbed off the resulting smudge with a shiver of distaste. "At least once a year."

"I've seen worse... somewhere," muttered Gabrielle.

Sitting down on a bed with a decided absence of any bounce, Xena judged the mattress to be slightly softer than a granite slab. "By the way," she asked curiously, "just how many times have you done this?"

The bard suddenly became intently absorbed in unpacking their bedrolls. "Done what?"

"Checked into an inn... with another woman."

Gabrielle shrugged and kept her face averted. "I'm a bard... I travel a lot... meet lots of people...."

"I'm not complaining," said Xena softly. "It's just that," she took a deep breath and confessed, "I was always so busy running my army that I didn't have much time for... socializing. So sometimes I worry that I don't... measure up."

"Oh." When the young woman turned around, there were tears running down her cheeks. "Xena, I fell in love with you the day you rode into Poteidaia, and you've been worth every minute of the years I've waited for you. No one has ever made me feel as wonderful, or as beautiful, as you do."

"Oh." The warrior blinked, then cleared her throat, but no words came out. So she pulled the bard down onto her lap and enveloped her in a fierce hug.

Her face buried against Xena's chest, Gabrielle whispered, "But if you're still worried, we could get in some practice before lunch."

---

Not many patrons were left in the common room by the time the two women wandered downstairs again.

"There's plenty of food," yelled the innkeeper from the depths of the kitchen, "as long as you want stew."

"Stew?" said the warlord under her breath. "It smells more like dirty laundry,"

"Hush, Xena." Gabrielle mustered a polite smile and called back, "Stew will be fine!"

"Delius was here," Xena read off the top of the trestle table in the middle of the room. As they settled onto a low bench that wobbled ominously, she continued her perusal of the words etched into the wooden surface. "Fiscus loves Antonio... Gratius has a twelve-inch—"

"Here ya go!" barked out a busty woman who emerged from the kitchen with a tray of food balanced on her hands. Then her eyes fixed on the leather-clad warlord. "Oh my!" Setting two bowls down in front of her customers, the waitress leaned over at a strategic and obviously well-practiced angle that displayed her breasts as if they were a special on that day's menu. "You're Xena, the Warrior Princess, aren't you?"

Xena smiled broadly. "Why, yes—"

"Yes, there's a strong resemblance," interjected Gabrielle. "How sweet of you to notice. But hadn't you heard? The Warrior Princess is dead." Leaning closer to her companion, she muttered, "Or she certainly will be soon."

"Yup, dead," said the warlord with sudden conviction. "Nailed to a cross, they say. Nasty way to go, but very thorough."

The waitress shuddered, which only served to accentuate her assets. Then she looked at the young bard, coolly measuring her appearance. "Well, you're obviously not Gabrielle. Is she dead, too?"

"Yes," said Gabrielle through gritted teeth. "She died with Xena."

"Oh, that's so sad!"

"What's really sad is this food," said the warlord, hastily dropping her spoon after just one taste.

"Don't you worry, I can fix you something very special," gushed the waitress.

"We wouldn't dream of putting you to that kind of trouble," said Gabrielle quickly and firmly. "We'll pick up something to eat at the marketplace instead. Now!" she said, prodding Xena into leaving before the waitress could offer any more of her services.

As they headed out the door, Xena spat out a knot of gristle that had lodged between her teeth. "We really should move to another inn."

"Yeah, we probably should," agreed Gabrielle reluctantly, "only this place is so convenient. It's near the city gate and the stables and even the markets."

"But—" The warlord broke off her protest; her blue eyes lit up, fired by a sudden spark of inspiration. "Why so it is, my bard, so it is..."

---

"One dinar."

Gabrielle nodded and handed over a coin. As she turned away from the stall, she saw the horrified look on Xena's face. "What?"

"Gabrielle! You just paid three times the market rate for that apple! I thought you knew how to bargain."

"Excuse me, Destroyer of Nations, but I'm a bard, remember? I write fiction."

Behind them, the fruit vendor was staring at the warlord, running his eyes from her leather boots up and up to the raven-dark tresses of her hair. "Destroyer of... You're Xena, the Warrior Princess!" he yelped.

"Xena's dead," said the warlord automatically.

"But you look just like her!"

"No, no she doesn't," cried out Gabrielle, assuming a visage of obvious dismay. "You've made a mistake, a dreadful mistake. It's just a... a strange coincidence, that's all."

Startled by Gabrielle's very unconvincing denial, Xena decided the better part of valor lay in letting the bard play out this scene on her own. Setting her mouth in a grim line, the warlord maintained a steadfast silence.

"Why, if this woman were Xena," said Gabrielle, "do you think for one minute she would let you live after cheating me out of a full dinar for that mealy apple?"

Ah — that's my cue, realized the warlord. "Like the little woman said, I'm not Xena." And she let her hand drift onto the pommel of her sword.

The vendor swallowed hard. "No, not Xena... how silly of me..." Taking a deep breath, he said, "Uh, by the way, you forgot your other two apples. And here, have a pear as well. They're very tasty this time of year."

Gabrielle broke into a beatific smile. "Why, thank you — you're very kind."

As they strolled away, munching on fruit, Xena said, "And I thought you said you couldn't bargain."

"That wasn't really bargaining. It was improvisational acting. And for an amateur, you did a pretty good job of picking up your lines."

"It was fun," said Xena thoughtfully. "I haven't had a whole lot of fun in my life." She turned to her companion. "That's one of the things I like about being around you. Even before we met, I figured that you'd just naturally make life more interesting. It was one of the reasons I had you abducted."

"Really?" Gabrielle flushed with pleasure. "Just for that, I'll forgive you for that 'little woman' crack."

---

One advantage to having such a small room, decided Gabrielle philosophically, was that it could be lit by the single candle stub reluctantly provided by the innkeeper. She sneezed as a cloud of dust tickled her nose. "Guess the maid's been here."

During their absence their packs had been thrown into a corner of the room and the bedspread had been turned down to reveal stained, threadbare sheets.... and a whip coiled neatly on top of a flat pillow.

"What the—!" growled the warlord. Snatching her whip off the bed, she hastily stuffed it back in her saddlebag. "I'd like to get my hands on the bard who's been spreading those damn S&M stories again."

"Yeah... so would I," said Gabrielle, a speculative tone in her voice. At Xena's outraged look, she said, "Hey, don't knock it until you've tried it."

"What is it about you bards and leather?" asked Xena in dismay. "How many times do I have to tell you that armor and weapons are the tools of my trade, not sex toys. I have no intention of using a whip on you."

"That wasn't the scenario I had in mind."

"Oh no, you don't! Whips hurt!"

"Chains?"

Xena fell silent for a moment. "Well... maybe...."

This promising line of discussion was abruptly interrupted by a series of blood-curdling yells and the sound of splintering furniture coming from the room next door, followed by a rhythmic chanting that gathered force until the two women could hear the words, "Toga, toga, toga!" reverberating through the wall.

"Just a wild guess," said the bard, "but I think that's a party we want to avoid."

"And I think it's time I had a small talk with management," said the warlord, striding masterfully out of the room.

Gabrielle shivered. There had been an edge of menace in her companion's voice that the bard had never heard before. As she waited for Xena's return, Gabrielle even felt a twinge of sympathy for the hapless innkeeper. Then the candle guttered out, throwing her into darkness, and the floorboards began to vibrate from the escalating noise of the nascent orgy. "On second thought — Take the village, kill 'em all," the bard muttered as she stumbled her way out of the room and went in search of the warlord.

She found Xena standing alone in the middle of the empty common room.

"Well?" Gabrielle demanded. The dazed smile on Xena's face was starting to worry her. "Did you find the innkeeper? Did you make him give back our money so we can stay somewhere else?"

"Not exactly." Xena's smile broadened. "Actually, I bought the place from him."

"Bought it!" Without even trying, the bard managed a truly impressive dramatic visage of pure horror. "But Xena, this inn is a dump!"

"A dump with a good strategic location, which is why it's stayed in business as long as it has, despite its many shortcomings. All it needs is a good administrator and some first-class entertainment, like a bard, and—"

"...and it could be a roaring success," finished Gabrielle with awe.

"Xena, Athenian Innkeeper," proclaimed the former warlord as she surveyed her new territory. "Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"