“c3″> 

Xena was
boiling with white-hot fury, and it took all of her will power not
to wreck the whole place completely but she had to do
something. The last time she
did feel so angrily helpless was when she’d found Gabrielle.
She had literally reduced the whole barn to ruins and not even
Palemon had dared to come near her during this bout of frenzy. Her
hands were shaking, her head was spinning, and all she could think
about was the pain and anguish the young Amazon had had to endure,
and now she understood Gabrielle’s feelings.

“c3″> 

Her
feet found the way to the barn, after dropping the scroll on
Melosa’s desk; brushing down Argo probably would help to calm
her down because a slave running rampant around the village really
wouldn’t do. But when she breathed in the scent of hay she
knew it was a futile attempt. It was all too familiar. Xena
snapped.

“c3″> 

A rock
pillar about two feet thick held the main structure of the barn.
She attacked it with her bare hands, pounding against it until her
fists were thick with blood, and then she knelt on the floor silent
tears running down her cheeks. Xena wept – for the third time
in more than fourteen years.

“c3″> 

“c3″> 

“c3″>-x-x-x-x-

“c3″> 

“c3″> 

When
she finally regained some self control it was well after dark but
instead of paying her daily visit to the temple or saying
good-night to Gabrielle she now began in earnest to brush down her
golden mare, after having wrapped her bleeding knuckles with a
make-shift bandage. The moon was already half ways through its
journey when she opened the door to the Queen’s hut. It was
empty but on the desk was a piece of parchment, it
said:

“c3″> 

“EN-US”>Xena,

“EN-US”> 

I will spend the night
with a friend.

“EN-US”> 

You will find the keys
for your night restraints on top of the chest in your room. Suit
yourself.

“EN-US”> 

We’ll talk
tomorrow.

“EN-US”> 

“EN-US”>Melosa

“EN-US”> 

Xena
was unable to sleep not only because her hands were badly hurting,
every time she closed her eyes she saw the battered body of the
young Amazon and the fear in her hazel eyes; she saw the words on
the scroll offering more details than she could ever have bargained
for, the painful memory of the first look at Gabrielle, and all of
the rage and anger and fury these slavers had sent her in
resurfaced. She saw the piercing coldness of Najara’s eyes.
And she saw all the horrible and heartless things she had done
herself over the years. The baby boy crying in the arms of his dead
mother, murdered by her fault. The look of sadness and
disappointment in.. No, she couldn’t stand it, but this time
her sense of guilt and responsibility were far stronger than the
urge to beat someone up.