Disclaimer:  Story mine, characters not.  This very short story was 
inspired by two things:  a story Jane wrote nearly a year ago, and the 
love two close friends have recently shown for each other through a 
very trying illness.  This story contains nothing but love, it just so 
happens the lovers are both female.  I cried through this story. 
 
 
 
Death 
by Tim Wellman 
 
 
 
Xena had been sick all night.  For the last week she hadn't been able 
to get out of bed.  Gabrielle nervously scurried around the room, 
rinsing a cloth in cool water and replacing it on Xena's forehead.  
She tried to smile and brushed the hair back from her companion's 
face. 
 
"Is that better?" 
 
Xena nodded and smiled back.  "You need to get out of the house for a 
while.  You shouldn't stay cooped up.  Your flowers in the garden will 
die without you." 
 
Gabrielle nodded.  It had been years since she had had flowers in the 
garden beside the tiny home they shared.  She closed her eyes for a 
moment and shining through her memories, a smiling Xena ran to her, 
fresh from the battle, sweaty, dirty... immortal, it seemed. 
 
Xena coughed again, and tried to catch her breath.  Gabrielle had 
grown used to it... three months of watching the bravest, strongest 
woman she had ever seen wither away to an empty shell.  The eyes once 
glowing like turquoise were now empty and starred blankly into the 
past, perhaps seeing the same distant battles, the same sweet memories 
Gabrielle saw every time she closed her eyes.  But there was no way to 
know for sure; the warrior would come in and out of reality, never 
quite finding it completely.  Gabrielle sat down on the edge of the 
bed and wiped Xena's mouth with a damp cloth, then tried to take a 
deep, labored breath without stirring Xena. 
 
"Gabrielle?"  Xena spoke, her eyes staring past the bard.  "Are you 
still here?" 
 
"I'm here, sweetness." 
 
"I never liked the smell of flowers, you know." 
 
A tear rolled down Gabrielle's cheek.  "I know."  She brushed the 
stiff gray hair from Xena's cheeks again.  "I always keep them 
outside."  She stood up and backed away, silently removing the small 
vase of flowers she had picked that morning along the road.  She put 
them on a small shelf, then returned to the bed.   
 
For thirty years, Xena had played nurse to Gabrielle, through all her 
illnesses, through all her silly injuries.  Xena had always been well; 
she wouldn't allow herself to get sick, she told the bard; no warrior 
would.  And then, suddenly, it seemed the gods had dropped it all on 
her at once... sicknesses a younger woman may have gotten over, but at 
Xena's age, it was only a matter of time before finding the long 
awaited pathway to rest. 
 
"She's out there, my love," Xena mumbled, then lifted head and starred 
blankly into another illusion.  "She smells blood." 
 
"Xena, there's no one there.  We're safe." 
 
"My sword?   Gods, I've lost my sword!"  Her voice wheezed the words 
struggling to stay inside, but escaping with each ragged breath. 
 
Gabrielle drew the warrior's head up to her breast, and wrapped her 
arms around her.  "Shhhhh... we're safe," she whispered, gently 
rocking.   
 
During the last few days, Xena had relived every battle they had ever 
fought, and for the life of her, Gabrielle couldn't decide whether 
Xena was frightened by them, or invigorated.  She felt Xena relax and 
softly laid her head back on the pillow.  "The battles were over, 
Xena, years ago."  They had found the small cabin at the end of an 
arduous journey, miles from the nearby village; and a week's stay 
became a month which became a lifetime.  At first, it was a struggle 
keeping Xena there, but the bard always longed for a domestic life, 
and Xena had always capitulated, eventually learning to like the 
simple peace they had found.  She hunted; Gabrielle canned various 
wild fruits and a small garden beside the flower garden provided 
vegetables.  As years passed, Gabrielle had gained a reputation as a 
story teller and villagers would pay her money to hear the tales of 
adventure.  And even after the bard had started forgetting some of the 
words, when her stories were more silent pauses than words, the people 
still filled her hands with coins, happy to help the couple who had 
simply showed up one day and never left. 
 
"Gabrielle?"  A strong, clear voice, seeming to appear from the 
distant past, startled the bard from her daydream.  Xena raised her 
hand and touched her friend's cheek.  "It's nearly time."  She smiled 
and for a moment, Gabrielle saw a scene from the past, the soft golden 
skin glowing in the bright sunlight, the white teeth showing through 
red, smiling lips. 
 
"Xena..." 
 
"We had a time, didn't we?"  Xena's voice was growing stronger, her 
mind clearing.  Her eyes seemed to darken and focus plainly on 
Gabrielle. 
 
Gabrielle smiled.  "We had a time."  She grasped Xena's hand.  "Try to 
rest." 
 
"It was always you, you know?  Everything I did... I lived for you... 
and because of you." 
 
"Please, just rest," Gabrielle said through tears. 
 
"Can I have my sword now?" 
 
Gabrielle understood what Xena meant.  She swallowed hard, trying her 
best not to cry out loud.  She stood up and walked into the back room, 
then returned with the rusted old sword, placing it in Xena's hands.  
A warrior went no where without her sword. 
 
Xena smiled again.  "Don't be too long," she whispered.  "I'm not used 
to getting along without you by my side."  The last few words trailed 
off to silence, and Xena's body relaxed again.  The smile remained on 
her face. 
 
She took the sword from the warrior, then walked to the shelf, got the 
flowers, and started to put them in Xena's hands.  But she paused and 
smiled, then put the sword back, placing Xena's fingers around the 
handle.  "I won't be long, my love.  I promise." 
 
 
The End