Part 1

This wasn't working out like he'd expected. Joxer tried digging in his heels but the guards holding his arms just dragged him through the courtyard without pause. The soles of his boots had been patched too many times to stand up to that treatment and the stitches began pulling loose; dirt started working its way up inside, pushing up near his toes. That was going to itch later.

"You're making a big mistake!" Joxer protested, scrambling to get his feet back under him, hoping some of the dirt would shake out at the same time. The two guards, both having at least half a foot and a good hundred pounds on him, just tightened their grip and continued dragging him.

"You don't understand who you're messing with here!" He finally got a foothold, which allowed him to walk again, although it was more like a jog; their strides were much longer than his. "Look, just go ask Xena, she'll tell you who I am. Or--or Cleopatra! She'll remember me since I saved her last time!"

The guards pulled him to a halt at the entrance to the courtyard and Joxer sighed in relief. "That's better. Now just find Xena, or even ask King Iphicles! He's Hercules' brother and I'm one of Hercules' best friends! He'll know me. Just tell him it's me, Joxer --"

They shoved him forward, sending him sprawling on the dry, dusty ground, his armor clattering as he hit, his helmet not doing a thing to protect his face, loose stones skinning his nose and cheek.

"-- the Mighty," he finished in an annoyed tone, spitting out dirt as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. Nope, not going at all like he'd thought it would.

After what had happened in Miramus, Joxer had decided to travel with Autolycus for a while. Autolycus needed a good influence like Joxer, someone to help him see the error of his ways. Joxer was a former thief so he thought he had a good perspective on it, could convince Autolycus to change just like Xena had for him. Autolycus hadn't seemed all that enthusiastic about it but Joxer knew that given time, he would've come around. But they'd gotten separated a couple days later in the market where Joxer had been trying to bargain for new travel supplies.

He hadn't been able to find Autolycus or anyone who'd seen him, so after another day of futile searching, Joxer had given up and asked around for word on where Xena and Gabrielle might've headed. When he'd heard that Xena had agreed to guard Cleopatra in Corinth, at least until Cleopatra had hired an army to dispose her brother Ptolemy, Joxer had known he'd be needed there more than with Autolycus. Sure, Xena was one of the best bodyguards anyone could find, especially with Gabrielle there to back her up, but with Joxer the Mighty with them, they'd make an invincible team.

He'd traveled to Corinth as quickly as he could, knowing that they'd all be glad to see him, Cleopatra especially since he'd helped her so much last time. He'd figured that this time all he would have to do was walk into King Iphicles' castle, announce himself and find out where they needed him to help. He still intended to do that, but he hadn't thought it would be this much of a problem to get in. Last time, back in Miramus, it had been understandable, if frustrating. Autolycus had been with him and Gabrielle and Joxer couldn't blame the guards for refusing them entrance when someone like Autolycus was around. But this time should've been different. He was a hero, after all. That should've gotten him into the castle.

Joxer had already tried asking to be let in but the guards at the front gate hadn't even spoken to him. He'd tried reasoning with them, explaining who he was and why he was here, but they'd kept ignoring him. The only reactions he'd gotten was when he'd tried to walk past them and they'd barred his way with their spears, and this last time when he'd tried to sneak in. He'd waited until a group of soldiers went in through the gate and he'd just fallen in behind them. After all, he was wearing armor, the same as them; he should've just blended right in. But the guards had grabbed him the instant he'd tried to pass through the gateway. And now he was out of ideas.

Sitting up, he brushed dirt off his breastplate and helmet as he glared at the retreating guards. "Wait until King Iphicles hears about this," he said petulantly, hoping the guards would hear him and realize their mistake. "He'll be really upset when he hears how his guards are treating important guests!" No reaction, not even a glance backwards as they walked back to the front gate.

Joxer sighed, a tired, frustrated sound. He'd been at this most of the afternoon and he'd gotten nowhere. He'd traveled hard for most of the past week, rising before dawn and not camping until it was too dark to see the road, he'd been determined not to let Xena and Gabrielle go for very long without his help, and he'd made great time. But now he was so close and there was no way in. He couldn't let himself be stopped by a pair of...of stupid guards. There had to be another way in, something less well guarded.

Standing up, Joxer drew his lower lip between his teeth and bit down lightly as he studied the castle before him, squinting against the bright mid-winter sun. It was a big place; there had to be an unguarded entrance somewhere. Maybe a back door, or a servant's door? Or...a window? Joxer let up on the pressure of his teeth, his lips stretching into a wide grin. That was it! It was how Autolycus had gotten in to the palace in Miramus. Sure, Joxer hadn't done so well at it then, but he'd been arguing with Gabrielle at the time so maybe he'd do better now, by himself.

Nodding decisively to himself, Joxer walked away from the front of the castle. He'd need rope and a grappling hook -- and he really didn't have the money for that last one. So he'd improvise. He could tie the rope to his dagger maybe, toss that up through a window and try to catch it on something. It was a good plan, a great one!

"Ha!" Joxer laughed aloud, ignoring the strange looks it got him from two men he passed. "Don't worry, Xena, Joxer the Mighty is on his way in to save the day!" Nothing could go wrong now.

Part 2

The world was tilting again. Then Joxer realized it was just him -- right about the time he fell face first into the grass.

"Ow," he muttered, pushing himself up on shaky arms. It wouldn't have been so bad, if it wasn't the second time it'd happened. His head was starting to get a little sore. Gingerly touching the back of his head through his helmet, he winced at the sting. Yeah, that was definitely a lump forming under there.

He glared at his dagger laying in the grass a few feet away, the rope attached to its hilt. Twice now he'd thrown the dagger through a third story window -- and he'd made it with each throw, which really didn't surprise him since he knew he was good, perfect hand-eye coordination and all -- but when he'd yanked on the rope, the dagger had failed to catch and instead it'd come sailing back out the window, plummeting down to land, pommel first, on his head. This was getting frustrating.

Joxer leaned forward and grabbed his dagger -- by the hilt this time because he'd already made that mistake twice before and his hands were both aching -- yanking it towards him with probably more force than was necessary.

"One more time," he said, getting to his feet a bit unsteadily.

Narrowing his eyes, he concentrated on the window above him, then hauled back and threw the dagger with all his strength. It flew up and right through the window, of course, and Joxer heard a distant clatter as it landed on the stone floor inside.

"Okay, third time's the charm." Taking a deep breath, he yanked hard on the rope. It came easily and for a moment Joxer thought he'd have to try and dodge the dagger again -- but then it caught.

Not quite believing it, he gave the rope another hard yank, but it held. He grinned. "Yes! Once again Joxer the Mighty finds a way to rescue his friends!" Yep, Autolycus himself couldn't have done it better.

Joxer grabbed hold of the rope with both hands and set one foot against the light gray stone of the wall. Straining his shoulders, he pulled himself up, hissing as the rough twine of the rope bit into his already sore hands. He braced himself against the wall with both feet, then reached above his head to get another grip on the rope. He pulled himself up again. His palms were starting to sweat, the moisture stinging the raw cuts in his palms and he wished he'd thought to put some dirt on his hands. Oh well, he was making good time; he'd be at the window in just a minute or two.

Another couple pulls up and Joxer was gasping for breath, his shoulders aching from the strain. But he didn't even think of giving up, not when he had to be so close. He glanced down, checking to make sure no one had spotted him. He hadn't seen any guards on this side of the castle but it was good to make sure. There weren't any guards, but he was also only a few feet off the ground.

It was impossible! He'd been climbing for minutes already; he had to have come further than that! Well, he'd just have to try harder. Gritting his teeth, Joxer took a deep breath and steeled himself for another pull up.

The rope jerked.

Joxer forgot to breathe all together, his head snapping upward. He didn't see anything at the window, just the rope disappearing over the edge. But it jerked again, moving upwards slightly.

"Uh-oh," Joxer whispered.

Then the rope was flying upwards and Joxer instinctively gripped it tightly, a yell of surprise jerked from him as he sailed up towards the window. The castle wall seemed to fly by and seconds later he hit the windowsill, literally. The rope was pulled through the window but Joxer's chest whacked into the sill, driving the breath right out of him and cutting off his yell. Before he had time to regain his breath or even to look up, the rope was yanked again, hard, and he came flying through the window to land, sprawled on the floor, smacking his already sore nose against cold stone.

He'd been discovered! Well, obviously, but he couldn't just lie there or some stupid guard would probably throw him out before he could explain how much he was needed. He couldn't get a deep breath and the pain from what were probably bruised ribs made him not want to move a muscle, but he forced his elbows beneath him, pushing himself up -- just enough to see the familiar black leather boots in front of him.

"Xena!" he cried happily, or at least he tried to. It came out as more of a breathless croak. Still, he pressed on, clearing his throat as he struggled to sit up. "Wow, it's good to see you!" he winced as the muscles pulled near his ribs. "I mean, you wouldn't believe how I was treated at the front gate! I tried to tell them I'm Joxer--aahh!" Anything else he might've said flew right out of his mind as the tip of a sword pressed against his throat.

His gaze followed the blade, its sharp edge gleaming in the light of the late afternoon sun drifting in from the window behind him, upwards to the strong hands gripping its hilt. Further up and he met cold blue eyes and a humorless expression.

"Prove it," Xena said flatly. She nudged the sword forward, just enough for Joxer to feel the sharpness of the tip pressing against his skin.

"Eeep!" he whimpered, and then everything went black.


Part 3

Joxer sighed happily. This was Elysium. Gabrielle sitting next to him, his arms around her. Her hand gently caressing his cheek as her sweet voice whispered wonderful endearments in his ear.

"Joxer!"

The slap jerked him completely awake.

"Hey!" Joxer's eyes snapped open, his cheek stinging. Gabrielle was sitting there glaring down at him. He grinned, slap forgotten. "Gabby," he sighed her name. "You look--"

"Joxer, let go of me right now." Gabrielle didn't sound even slightly amused, or romantic.

Joxer looked down -- and realized that he had one arm around her waist, and his other hand-- "Oops!" He quickly jerked his hand back from her breast, although the imprint of the shape felt burned into his palm. "Sorry," he said with a contrite smile, yanking his arm back from her waist at the same time.

"Forget about it," she said, shaking her head as she stood up. "And I mean that." She smoothed down her skirt before walking away from him.

Joxer couldn't quite keep from grinning as he looked at her. Diffuse sunlight from the windows behind her framed her in a hazy glow, highlighting the blond in her hair and making her seem ethereal and -- where was he?

Pushing himself up on his elbows, Joxer realized he was lying on a bed, a nice one too, large, comfy mattress, clean white sheets. He didn't remember going to bed, in fact he was still wearing his armor, his helmet still firmly planted on his head. So what...? A dim memory struck him, well, more like him striking the floor. A window and rope and a really hard floor. His nose was still aching a bit actually, confirming that memory. If that had happened, then where? Not here, couldn't be. Looking around, he saw thick, woven, white carpet covering the floor and the windows had furniture under them, chairs and a table under the one across from him, covered with delicate looking glass figurines. Combined with the tapestries on two of the walls depicting various goddesses frolicking in flowering fields, the effect was kind of...girly.

"Uh...where am I?" Joxer looked back at Gabrielle, the only one besides him in the large room.

Across the room from him, Gabrielle was grabbing her staff from where it had been leaning against the wall. "You're in our room -- the one Xena and I were given. She had the guards bring you here after you fainted."

"I don't faint!"

She snorted in obvious amusement.

"I must've just been...tired!" Joxer protested. "I fell asleep and--wait a second!" Suddenly he remembered it all, trying to climb the castle wall, being yanked through the window, Xena shoving her sword into his neck. His hand flew up to his throat and he swallowed hard. It didn't feel like the skin was broken, but still. "What was that for?" he demanded. "Xena's lucky I was caught off guard; I could've really hurt her!"

Another snort as Gabrielle picked up a piece of parchment from the table near her. "We had to be sure," she said as she walked back towards him, staff resting on one shoulder.

"Huh?" Joxer frowned.

She didn't answer, just held out the parchment to him. He took it, giving her a curious look, but she just stood there, resting her staff on the floor and watching him with an unreadable expression.

Even more confused now, Joxer looked down at the parchment, and gasped.

His own face stared back at him. It was a good likeness; he wondered what kind of artist did wanted posters, because that's what this was. His reading wasn't the best, but he could get by enough to read this. He didn't feel too much relief when he read the name there, mostly because he was still confused. "Wanted for murder: Jett," the parchment said. But...that made no sense.

"Jett's in prison," he said out loud, because it had to be true. But the next lines on the parchment took away that certainty, adding to Joxer's confusion. "Escaped from prison in Miramus." He looked away from the parchment, focusing back on Gabrielle, shaking his head.

"I don't understand," he said quietly. "I mean, he only went to prison a couple months ago! He promised me he'd stay there."

Gabrielle sighed, reaching out to take the parchment from him, tossing it onto the nearest chair. "Joxer, he's an assassin, a murderer," she pointed out.

"Well, yeah, but he's not a liar, not to me anyway." He glanced away, biting down lightly on the inside of his lip. "He's never lied to me," he repeated after a few moments.

He felt...betrayed. This wasn't right, it had to be a mistake. It had to. Jett had promised him and that meant something between them. They were brothers, closer than that. Twins. And yeah, Jace made them triplets but Joxer had always been so much closer to Jett, maybe because Jace was older than both of them, by a whole half an hour. Jett and Joxer had been born less than a minute apart and as different as they'd turned out to be...Joxer couldn't imagine Jett breaking his word like that, not to him.

"Joxer?" Gabrielle's voice, her hand on his arm pulled Joxer out of his confused thoughts.

"He had to have a reason, Gabby," he said with conviction. "He wouldn't just do that without a good reason."

She nodded, her hand falling back to her side. "We think he has one."

Just then one of the room's two doors opened to admit a man Joxer could've sworn he'd never seen before, but somehow looked...familiar. The red, shoulder length hair he knew he didn't recognize, but there was something about that face. It was something specific...those lips. Joxer knew he'd seen that mouth somewhere before. The rest of him though, the richly embroidered robe draped over broad shoulders and the ornamental sword belted to his waist, that didn't ring any bells for Joxer.

The man paused just inside the doorway, dark eyes narrowing as he stared at Joxer.

"It's okay, your Highness," Gabrielle said. "It's not Jett, just Joxer."

"Hey!" Joxer glared up at her. "What d'you mean it's just Joxer -- and...Highness?" He looked back at the robed man. Then it clicked. "Oh. Oh! You're King Iphicles! Hercules' brother!"

Figuring it was rude to be sitting down in the presence of royalty, especially one of Hercules' relatives, Joxer quickly hopped off the bed. Or tried to. He pushed himself off too hard and couldn't get his feet down in time, his ankles knocking into each other. He ended up sprawled face down on the floor, a familiar position lately. At least this time the rug cushioned his fall and lessened the clatter of his armor.

"I meant to do that!" he said, quickly scrambling to his feet. "Um, just...checking under the bed to make sure no one's hiding there, you know. Heh." He reached up to straighten his helmet and grinned at Iphicles, who was watching him with raised eyebrows.

"Is he always like this?" Iphicles asked.

"Always," Xena replied sardonically as she walked past Iphicles into the room. "He's no danger."

"You're certain?" Iphicles looked at Joxer, cocking his head to the side. "The resemblance is...amazing."

"I am too dangerous!" Joxer said. "I'm the most dangerous guy in this city! I'm not bad though, I'm reformed and--ahhh!" Somehow his feet were yanked out from under him and he fell backwards. Fortunately the bed was right there though and it was a soft landing, bouncing a couple of times. It really was a good mattress.

Sitting up quickly, he saw Gabrielle resting the end of her staff back on the floor. "Gabby!" He glared at her again, shoving off the bed with only a slight stumble.

"See?" Gabrielle shrugged, smiling slightly at Iphicles.

"All right." Iphicles sighed, his lips tilting up in amusement. "You're the experts. I think I'll let you explain this to Cleopatra."

"Why are you here, Joxer?" Xena asked, resting her hand on her chakram as she stopped in front of him. Joxer was sure that was just some sort of reflex action for her, but it still made him nervous. The too-fresh memory of her sword at his throat didn't help any.

"I, um, I heard you were guarding Cleopatra while she hires an army. I knew you'd need my help." He smiled at her, although he could feel how shaky the expression was.

Xena sighed. "Of course you did. Autolycus isn't with you, is he?"

"The King of Thieves?" said Iphicles. "Now that's one man I could do without in my kingdom."

"I haven't seen him since Miramus," Joxer answered, his smile fading. "And I, uh, didn't know about Jett either."

"You didn't go to see him in prison before you left Miramus?" Xena's expression didn't change but Joxer felt as though she were staring right into him, seeking out any lie. Fortunately he didn't have any to tell her.

He shook his head. "I just.... Look, Xena, he's my brother, okay? I know what he did was wrong and he had to be punished, but I couldn't see him in that place." He met her gaze, hoping she'd understand.

"It's all right, Joxer. We just needed to know if he might've said anything to you about this." She gave him a small smile, reaching out to briefly squeeze his shoulder.

Joxer sighed, tension disappearing under the touch. "I still don't believe it though," he said, more willing to argue about it now that he didn't think Xena would draw her sword again, or use any of those pressure point things she did.

"Joxer--" Gabrielle started, but he didn't let her finish.

"No, Gabby. I know what you think, but this isn't like Jett and I know him."

"Why isn't it like him, Joxer?" Xena asked, looking closely at him.

"He was hired to kill Cleopatra and he didn't finish the job," Gabrielle pointed out. "He broke out he's waiting in the city, looking for a chance to finish the job, to restore his reputation." She shrugged.

"He promised me and he's not going to break that promise," Joxer said stubbornly, because he knew it was the truth.

"Then who's been murdering the people in my city?" Iphicles asked, his voice devoid of all previous humor.

Joxer looked at him in surprise. "Huh?"

"Corinth's citizens, men, women, children," Gabrielle supplied. "A week ago they started disappearing at night, gone missing from their beds, off the streets, out of taverns, and they all turn up dead the next day."

"But there's been no attempt to infiltrate the castle," Iphicles said with a frown. "My guards and Cleopatra's have seen nothing and I'd expected an attempt on her life by now. It doesn't make sense, unless the assassin is playing with us."

"And that's not like Jett!" Joxer quickly pointed out.

"No, he seemed pretty direct when I met him," Xena agreed, tapping two fingers on the side of her chakram. "We're missing something here."

"You told me it was this...Jett, the assassin, why is that changing now?" Iphicles asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I said I thought it might be him," Xena corrected, turned away from them all as she walked slowly across the room. "Taking out his frustration on the populous when he couldn't get in here. It was the best theory we had since we found out he'd escaped."

"So what now?" Gabrielle asked, sounding concerned.

Coming to stand near one of the windows, staring outside, Xena shook her head. "This isn't adding up. Doubling the guard patrols in the city hasn't made a difference and no one sees anything."

"And I can't keep telling my people to be patient when their families are being killed," Iphicles said. "My guards would have no problems in tripling their patrols, but I don't know if it would do anything at this point but exhaust my men." He frowned and glanced towards the other door in the room, closed so Joxer hadn't been able to see what lay beyond.

"I've been thinking of asking Cleopatra to add her some of her guards to my patrols," Iphicles said. "It's not something I'd normally ask of a guest, especially one of her status, but we could use the extra guards."

"Do that." Xena glanced over at him. "Let's see if her men see something yours don't. This is a strange place to them, far from home, and that may be the perspective we need here."

Iphicles nodded. "So you're sure that it isn't this assassin?"

Xena didn't say anything immediately, instead she turned to look directly at Joxer. "I think there might be a way to settle that question. Joxer, would you be able to recognize Jett's work?"

"Uh, yeah." He shrugged uncomfortably, not liking the memories that brought up. "Dad made Jett take me with him sometimes; he wanted Jett to set a good example for me."

Iphicles' eyebrows went completely up, but he didn't say anything.

"Then we can solve this right now," Xena said. "Gabrielle, bring Cleopatra down to the cellar. Joxer; your Highness; with me." Xena strode quickly from the room, Iphicles following right after her.

Gabrielle sighed. "Why isn't anything ever simple?"

Joxer didn't know what to say to that, mostly because he wished the same thing. Instead he just gave her a small, helpless shrug, then hurried out after Xena and Iphicles.


Part 4

There was something wrong with this scene. A cool cellar full of vegetables, roots, fruit and assorted other foods, all so carefully ordered on shelves set into the stone walls. Barrels of ale stacked in the corners and a well to the side, it looked too normal and...and <I>ordinary</I>, something you'd see in any keep or castle. Except for the bodies. Sure, they were covered where they lay near the back, old sheets, dingy with age and mended many times over, but that did nothing to hide what lay beneath.

Joxer couldn't seem to help staring. He didn't want to but there was something macabre about it, the way the torches flickered, sending shadows skittering over the covered bodies, giving motion to things that should remain motionless. He shivered involuntarily, stepping back and hitting the stone wall with a muted clunk of his armor.

Xena slid the last torch into the sconce on the wall, just to the right of the bodies. The extra light didn't do enough to dispel the shadows in Joxer's opinion, but no one was asking him. In fact neither Xena nor Iphicles had paid him the slightest notice since he'd caught up with them and one look at the bleak, determined expression on Xena's face, the humorless expression on Iphicles' had convinced him that trying to start a conversation probably wasn't the best idea. It wasn't often common sense stood up and slapped him with something obvious, so he tried to listen when it did.

Fortunately a few torches had already been lit to guide the way down to the cellar, or Joxer was certain he'd have taken a dive head first straight down at some point. Actually, he was kind of surprised that hadn't happened anyway. It wasn't that the stairs were narrow, more that it was just something that seemed to happen to him around stairs in general.

The sound of footsteps on those same stairs and Joxer forced his gaze away from the shrouded bodies in time to see Gabrielle step down into the cellar. Behind her Cleopatra descended the last few steps, followed by two of her own guards to judge by the men's manner of dress. Cleopatra's bearing was as regal as Joxer remembered, and as haughty, but he supposed someone who intended to rule an entire country could be expected to have some arrogance. The flimsy golden fabric of her silk skirts trailed down the steps behind her, the jewels beaded into her dark hair clicking together as she moved. She really was beautiful, but not as much as Gabrielle, not to Joxer. Gabrielle's presence seemed to brighten up the cellar more than the torches had. Joxer smiled at her, hesitantly, an expression that died when she didn't even look at him, her gaze moving automatically to Xena.

"What is this about? Have you caught the assassin?" Cleopatra asked as she stopped a few feet into the cellar, her guards standing close behind her, hands gripping spears. Her tone indicated she expected an answer promptly. Then her gaze fell on Joxer and one eyebrow rose. "I know this man. Was it not his brother who attempted to assassinate me in Miramus?"

"Um, yes," Gabrielle was the one to reply. Resting her staff on her shoulder, she looked from Joxer to Cleopatra. "This is Joxer, Jett's brother."

"Ah." That seemed to say it all for Cleopatra. She looked away from Joxer, gaze moving to Iphicles. "Why have I been brought here?"

"Jett isn't doing this," Joxer blurted out before Iphicles could say anything. Suddenly everyone was looking at him. Joxer glanced at them all, one by one, uncomfortable and unable to meet their gazes for long. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, wincing when his armor scraped against the wall behind him. "I--It's true," he insisted, voice unsteady. And it was, he'd known it the instant he'd seen the bodies, even though they were covered.

"That's what we're here to find out," Xena said. "These are the two that were murdered last night, Joxer. The others have already had their funeral pyres." She reached down to grab the sheet on one of the bodies.

"You don't have to do that," Joxer said quickly. She stopped in mid motion, giving him a look that said he better explain himself fast.

"I can tell, already." He looked away from the bodies, saw the cool way Cleopatra was watching him and looked back. "It's...it's the shape. They're all...there."

Xena stared at him a moment longer, then shook her head and pulled off the first sheet. "Just take a look, Joxer." She yanked off the second then, letting both fall at the feet of the bodies.

Joxer surprised himself by not reacting at all, not even a flinch. It wasn't that it wasn't a gruesome sight, because it was. The bodies, two men, were both still dressed at least, one in plain brown clothing covered in front by a blood stained apron, the other in a bloody nightshirt, but they were also rigid and far too white, even for corpses. Both had brown hair, which stood out sharply against their pallid skin, but not as sharply as the gaping wounds in their necks. It was like...their throats had been torn out.

"Is...that the only wound they have?" Joxer asked. He had to swallow back a nauseous feeling, but it wasn't as bad as he'd thought it might be. He'd seen much, much worse than this. He didn't like seeing death at all, but this he could handle.

Xena nodded. "There was no blood where they were found so they must've been moved after the murders, same as the other nine."

Eleven total, and Xena had mentioned children, now Joxer really felt sick. But that still didn't change a basic fact. "Well, Jett didn't do this."

"How can you be so sure?" Gabrielle asked, frowning. "You've barely looked at them."

"It's not him. I've seen him work before, Gabby." Joxer sighed in frustration, trying to find a better way of explaining it without making it sound as horrific as it probably was. He just couldn't see a way though. "It's not artistic enough."

"What?" Iphicles looked at him incredulously, a look shared by everyone except Cleopatra and her guards. Her eyebrows had both gone up this time but she showed no other reaction. Her guards remained expressionless.

"They were missing for a few hours, right?" Joxer looked at Xena. She nodded once. "Okay, then it's not Jett. When he has that long to work on someone.... Jett's proud of what he does," he explained with another sigh. "He...he likes it. It's his life and Dad always told us that whatever we did with our lives, we should enjoy it. Jett, well, he really does. I mean really." He snorted in grim amusement. "If Jett had done that," he glanced at the bodies, "there'd be something more than...than that. I mean, their heads would be cut off, or their tongues and eyes, or--or something." He shook his head. "Look, Xena, once a few years ago, Jett cut a guy open and hung him by his own entrails. He said it was, um...what was that? Oh! Right. 'Picturesque.' And--and one time, when Mom was making us study poetry, Jett composed his own and carved it into the body of a warlord who Dad hated, you know, while the guy was still alive? Oh, and what Jett did to him after that, ugh." Joxer shuddered at the memory. "And then there was the time that--"

"All right, Joxer," Xena held up a hand. "This isn't Jett's style. I think we get that."

"Oh. Well, um good." Joxer couldn't help feeling relieved. Jett was responsible for plenty of death and torment in his life, but not this, and Joxer felt kind of good, clearing his brother's name this time. Jett would probably even thank him if he ever found out. Sloppy, unimaginative work like this being attributed to him would offend him.

"So where does that leave us?" Iphicles asked. "If this isn't the work of the assassin, then who?"

"And why?" Gabrielle said, looking at Xena. "If Jett's not responsible, then what's this really about? Is it possible that Cleopatra isn't the target? That it's someone in the city itself?"

"If there is a target at all." Xena sounded thoughtful but she said nothing more as she knelt down to cover the bodies.

"Perhaps I may render some assistance," Cleopatra said quietly. "My personal physician had business to conclude in Miramus, but he has recently rejoined my retinue. I will have him examine these men. Perhaps he may see something that has been missed."

"Can't hurt, can it?" Iphicles asked, glancing at Xena as she stood. "My own physician hasn't found anything and unless you have anything new?" He tilted his head to the side, gaze questioning.

She shook her head. "We would appreciate the assistance, thank you." She nodded to Cleopatra.

"Very well. I will send for him." Cleopatra turned her head slightly, looking at the guard to her right. "Go," she said quietly. "You will find him resting in his room."

"Yes, my Queen." The guard bowed low, then backed away a few steps, still bowing, before turning and hurrying up the steps.

"Um, can I help, somehow?" Joxer asked hesitantly.

"You've helped already, Joxer," Xena said, giving him a slight, if very real smile. "You let us know we were on the wrong track, thank you."

That was something he didn't hear from her much. He grinned, nausea quickly passing, pride making him stand up straighter. "Yeah, well, that's me, always ready to help out. Because, you know, I'm always here for you guys and--hey! I bet there's something else I can do. I mean, there's still a murderer on the loose and you need someone out there looking for him...her...it? Um, anyway, I'm on it!" Joxer started to turn towards the stairs, then stopped to look at Xena. "Unless you need me to help you here, because I can do that too."

"No, Joxer." Xena sighed. "If there's anything to find here, we'll take care of it. Just...Gabrielle?"

"Got it," Gabrielle said, then smiled at Joxer. "Joxer, um, why don't we go back upstairs." She walked over to him and placed a hand on his arm, pulling him towards the stairs when she began moving that way.

"But, uh," Joxer frowned, looking back at Xena, "what about--"

"Don't worry about it, Joxer."

He was about to protest more, but he was cut off by the sound of his own stomach growling. He grinned sheepishly. "So... is there anything to eat around here?"

Gabrielle snorted. "I'm sure we can find something." She finally let him go as they walked past Cleopatra's guard but this time he didn't try to stay. The thought of food sounded too good to pass up.


Part 5

Joxer watched the servants leave with a sigh of relief. It was good to have a room of his own but he'd thought they were going to stand there all night.

It really had been nice of Gabrielle to see to it that he was assigned a room. It was rare for Joxer to know where he was going to sleep from one night to the next and this room, even if it was much smaller than Xena and Gabrielle's, was better than the hard packed dirt, muddy grass or moldy straw he was used to on a daily basis. The bed looked just as good as the one he'd woken up on a couple hours ago and sure, the room itself was plain, no rugs, no tapestries and only a single chair and table, but it did have its own fireplace -- the only light source in the room which made it kind of dark and shadowy, and Joxer thought he really should've asked for a lamp because the shadows were dark enough to qualify as creepy -- and there was a window. More importantly though, it wasn't anywhere near as...frilly as that other room. He was much happier with plain. Besides, it wasn't like he planned on spending a lot of time here, not when it was so dark. Well, there was a killer on the loose too and Joxer the Mighty was needed out there, combing the city for the culprit.

He'd tried explaining that to the servants who'd brought in the tub and water, but he might as well not have spoken. The copper tub sat there in the middle of the floor, water steaming while Joxer eyed it dubiously. It wasn't that he was adverse to cleanliness, it was more that it was tough to get his armor on and off and he didn't really need the bath anyway, he was clean enough. He'd washed his hands after eating in the kitchens, hadn't he?

Shaking his head, Joxer walked across the room, past the bath without looking at it again. He felt the steam though, it clung to his arm, nice and warm in contrast to the coolness of the room. The fire wasn't very large and it wasn't heating up the room fast enough, of course the shutters being ajar didn't help. Who left the shutters unlatched in winter anyway, especially at night? He latched them closed, then rubbed his arms vigorously, trying to get the goose bumps to disappear.

A hand slammed over his mouth, muffling his surprised yelp. An arm went tight around his waist, clenching hard, pulling him back firmly against a lean body.

Joxer grabbed at the hand over his mouth, trying to get a grip on the long fingers but without success. It was like clawing at stone.

It was the murderer! Gotten into the castle somehow! He had to get free, had to fight and--and--Xena! He had to get Xena, had to get out of here and why couldn't he move and--

"Hello, brother." The amused voice was right next to his ear, breath tickling the side of his neck.

Joxer froze. "Jett?" It was muffled and pretty much illegible against the hand, but he still got a chuckle in response.

"Yeah." The hand pulled away, an arm settling across Joxer's chest instead, hand now resting on his shoulder. Jett hugged him tight. Too tight. Joxer squeaked and tried to pull away, but Jett wasn't letting up and Joxer couldn't get any air and he was starting to see spots in front of his eyes and -- Jett let go.

Joxer gasped loudly, taking in huge gulps of air. Legs buckling beneath him, he staggered a couple steps away, tripping over his feet and falling against the wall when he turned to look at Jett. At least the wall held him up. He let it support him for a second as he caught his breath and glared at his brother.

"Surprise," Jett said with a grin, that gleam in his eye as...unstable as always.

"Not really," Joxer muttered. "Everyone knows you esca...." His words trailed off, his annoyance fading as he took in the sight before him.

Gone were the black leathers Jett had worn before, replaced by plain brown pants and shirt, worn and travel stained. And Jett was thin, too thin. Not quite starved but not looking too far from it either. Sure, Joxer didn't always get enough to eat either but he didn't think his cheeks were that hollow looking.

Jett's grin was disappearing, becoming something more sardonic. "Guess I'm looking a little different, huh? Yeah, well," he sighed, "it's been a rough few weeks. They don't feed you too good in that place and I haven't taken the time to make up for it yet." His hand went to his face, fingers running along his jaw line, the days worth of stubble there.

"I--I'm sorry, Jett, really, but--but what're you doing here?" Joxer asked, hating the whine in his voice. "You promised me you'd serve the sentence!"

Jett sighed. "Get over here."

Joxer winced in anticipation of whatever Jett would do, but he still went. He'd fight Jett on the more important matters, right and wrong, but on the little stuff it was still easier -- less painful -- if he just did whatever Jett wanted. He took the few steps that brought him to his brother, wincing again when Jett's arm came up...but it landed on his shoulders, draping over them, Jett's hand giving his arm a light squeeze. It was a gentle touch, the entire gesture was uncharacteristically gentle, nothing like the rough, sometimes painful affection Joxer was used to from him. It made Joxer more nervous than if Jett had simply half choked him with another too-tight hug. Then Jett's fingers stroked lightly up his arm his arm, just once, but slow and no bruising pressure and Joxer could only stare at them in shock.

"Umm...Jett?" His voice sounded embarrassingly high-pitched. "W-w-what's going on? Why are you...y-you promised me...."

Another sigh and Jett's arm tightened around his shoulders, but not painfully. "I've never broken my word to you, Joxer. Trust me, okay?"

"Well, uh, you know I want to, Jett, but.... But you're here and--"

"Dad's dead." Jett's tone went flat.

It took a moment for Joxer to process that, and when he did, he still wasn't sure he'd heard it right. "What?" His voice barely above a whisper, he looked at Jett, hoping to see that it was some sort of joke. But Jett looked completely serious, no sign of the malicious humor he sometimes showed.

"But--but how?" Joxer shook his head, not understanding. "Was he sick, or--or--"

"Murdered," Jett's voice was quiet, but now there was a cold undertone, an anger Joxer felt more comfortable with than this strange gentleness Jett was showing. And this time Joxer could sympathize.

He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as the truth of it sank in, a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. "Oh gods," he whispered. He reached up and pulled off his helmet. "Dad?" It didn't seem possible. Their father had been such a strong person last Joxer had seen him, even pushing sixty. The helmet dropped from his fingers, clanking on the ground at his feet.

"H--how? Another prisoner?" he asked, but Jett shook his head. "A guard?" Joxer looked away when Jett shook his head again. His chest felt tight.

"It's a bad story. The bastard supposed to be helping the prisoners was killing them. I'm sorry, bro." Jett pulled him into a hug and for once it wasn't a bone crunching one. Joxer returned it, arms tight around Jett's too-thin form.

"Yeah Jett, I'm sorry too." He closed his eyes when he felt Jett's head rest on his shoulder. Gods knew Joxer loved their father and this hurt, knowing that they'd never see him again, but Jett had always been so much closer to him. This had to be hurting Jett in ways Joxer didn't feel.

Then Jett was pulling away and Joxer immediately released him. Jett's sudden need to touch had to be because of their father's death, but Joxer wasn't about to push it in any way, Jett was way too unpredictable and Joxer didn't want to end up hung from his underwear again. He took a deep, slow breath, it didn't make the pain go away but made sure he didn't do anything stupid that Jett would smack him for, like crying like a girl, which...he wasn't going to do.

"I saw it," Jett said quietly, turning away. "I saw it!" Cold fury in his tone and Joxer thought it was better to just say nothing. What could he say to that anyway?

"I'll tell you what happened, Joxer, but not yet. I need...help." Jett spat the word out like it was a mortal offense, and Joxer guessed that to him it probably was. And that was a statement that Joxer wouldn't touch if his life depended on it.

"The bastard that killed Dad, I followed him here." Jett turned back to look at Joxer, a brief smile ghosting over his lips. "Didn't expect to find you here, Jox. Better though, you're still hanging around Xena."

"You want her to help you?" Joxer's eyebrows went up. "The minute she sees you, she'll--"

"That's where you come in, Jox," Jett interrupted, grabbing his arm and yanking him forward. "You're gonna go to her, talk her into listening to me." He dropped his arm over Joxer's shoulder again, but this time his grip was just this side of painful. Joxer cringed but knew he wasn't getting out of that grip, or the job Jett wanted him to do. Not that he would've tried to, not this.

"Ow! You don't have to be so rough about it!" Joxer couldn't help voicing his opinion about that. "I'll do it Jett, I would've done it anyway, you know," he said sullenly. "For Dad."

Jett's grip loosened. "Just for Dad?" One eyebrow rose fractionally.

Joxer rolled his eyes. "No, Jett, for you too. You know that."

"Yeah." Jett squeezed his shoulders, briefly, hard, making Joxer yelp. "Good boy." Then he let go, stepping back.

Joxer stared at him. "Y-y-you'll stay here? While I talk to Xena?"

Jett shrugged. "Yeah, why not." He walked over to the bed and dropped down onto it with a sigh, his anger visably draining away as he relaxed into the mattress. "Security's too tight out there right now, might be seen if I went exploring too much. Barely got in here as it was." He tucked one arm under his head, giving Joxer a measuring look..

"I thought I taught you to always lock your doors. Tsk." He shook his head, but there was no anger there, not even irritation so Joxer felt safe enough ignoring that.

"You didn't...hurt anyone to get in here, did you?" Joxer asked, afraid of the answer he might get.

Jett rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Jox, I'm gonna advertise my presence like that. You know better. Now get going." It was an order, but delivered with a smile that bordered on...soft.

Joxer suppressed a shiver of trepidation as he backed away towards the door. "Yeah, um, okay." He kept a close eye on Jett, not sure what, if anything to expect from his brother now, not with Jett acting so weird.

"Hey, Jox?"

"Huh?" Joxer froze, eyes wide.

Jett waved towards the copper tub where the water had quit steaming. "Have a servant fill that back up tonight sometime; you really reek."

"What're you talking about?" Joxer demanded indignantly, caution disappearing beneath offence. "I bathed just last month!"

Jett snorted. "Yeah, it shows-er-smells." He chuckled. "Go on." He waved his hand at the door, a taunting smirk settling on his lips.

That was a familiar sight to Joxer and despite the insult, it really went a long way towards easing his nervousness. He turned his back on Jett and stormed from the room. Or tried to anyway. He actually succeeded in turning and striding right into the door, nose first.

He heard Jett snickering behind him. Throwing him a dark glance over his shoulder -- which only served to make Jett's smirk widen -- Joxer yanked open the door and left, slamming it behind him.


Part 6

He really wasn't looking forward to this. Staring at the door before him -- and how could a closed door look so ominous? -- Joxer wished he didn't have to be here. Not that getting here had been all that easy. His room was two floors below Xena and Gabrielle's and although a set of stairs was close to his own room, Joxer had still gotten lost on the way. He'd only wandered for a few minutes before stumbling, literally, into a servant who pointed him in the right direction, but it'd been enough time for his apprehension to grow. At least the halls were well lit, especially as he neared the corridor where Cleopatra and her people were housed, where her guards stood at attention by the walls. Still, it was quiet there, very quiet, and who was to say the murderer hadn't found a way into the castle yet? Joxer found himself jumping at the slightest sound -- which was usually one of the guards shifting, but sometimes it was his own armor clanking.

The room he wanted was close to Cleopatra's, and Joxer wondered if his friends would even be there. Maybe they were with Cleopatra and this wouldn't be a good subject to mention around her, not with the way Jett had tried to kill her, so Joxer wouldn't be able to deliver the message and he'd just have to turn back around and leave. And standing there, staring at the door, that didn't sound like such a bad idea.

Joxer closed his eyes, pushing back the nervousness that threatened to send him running back to his room. He could do this. He had to. It was about family and you didn't let family down on the important things; that was something Dad had taught them.

"Dad." He winced at his own voice although it was just a whisper. Opening his eyes, he shoved a hand back through his hair, pushing it out of his face, steeling himself to do what he had to. He didn't let his hand drop, reaching out and rapping on the door with his knuckles.

The sound was loud in the quiet of the corridor, but the small echo it left died down quickly, long before anyone responded. After a few moments, Joxer started to knock again. But the door yanked open just as his knuckles touched the wood.

"What is it?" Gabrielle asked in an annoyed tone. "We asked for just a bit of privacy and--Joxer?" She frowned up at him.

"Um...hi," Joxer said uncomfortably, keeping his eyes on her face and not...lower. All she wore was a towel wrapped around her head and another around her body, and it really didn't conceal all that much. Normally Joxer might've stared at her, admired her, and probably gotten slapped, but given the circumstances right now it wasn't all that difficult to behave himself.

"What do you want?" she asked impatiently.

"I, uh, I need to talk to Xena. Is she here?"

"Joxer, we're busy, obviously." She motioned to the towels she wore.

"I know, but I really need to talk to her. Please?" He threw that in, hoping it would convince her.

Gabrielle sighed, resting a hand on her hip and Joxer thought that he was about to get the door slammed in his face and he'd have to stand there waiting until they'd have time for him. But then she was opening the door wider, turning away from him and walking into the room.

"Thanks, Gabby," he said with a small smile, walking in behind her.

"Shut the door."

He quickly did as she said, too quickly because it slammed. He winced. "Sorry," he said just as Xena walked into the room through the other doorway. He caught a brief glimpse of marble tile and the edge of a bath set into the floor, then she shut the door.

"What is it, Joxer?" Xena asked. Her hair was up under a towel but she'd taken the time to put a robe on, some flimsy, white, Egyptian looking thing that clung to her damp legs, but it still did a better job of covering her than a towel would have.

"Well, um...." Joxer stalled, realizing that he didn't know quite how to say this, how to get her to listen to him instead of rushing right out to confront Jett the instant she heard his name. "You see...it's kind of like this.... Um...well--"

"Spit it out!" Gabrielle snapped, making him jump. Arms crossed, she glared at him from the middle of the room.

"My Dad's dead." It kind of...slipped out. He hadn't meant to say it, at least not right away and not in that shaky tone, he'd wanted to wait until he'd gotten the part about Jett out of the way first. But there it was, kind of hanging there in the silence. He dropped his gaze, suddenly finding the linked spiral pattern on the carpet more interesting.

"Joxer...I--I'm sorry." Gabrielle's voice was much quieter now, that harsh edge gone. And she was there, touching him, her hand falling gently on his arm.

He looked up, meeting her gaze. Her expression was compassionate, soft green eyes showing true sympathy, for him. It was good to have that from her and he nodded, acknowledging it. He was grateful, but that didn't stop it from hurting.

There were so many regrets, so much he felt he should've done for his father. He could've been more, done more; he should've gone to the prison when Jett was locked up. He'd been a coward, staying away because it made him uncomfortable. If he'd gone he would've gotten to see their father one last time.

"How, Joxer?" Xena's voice was equally as quiet, sympathetic, and gods was he glad to have them as friends. Maybe it didn't make things right but it did make it easier, in a way. It also made him want to cry and he wasn't about to do that.

"He was, um, murdered." He found the carpet interesting again, blinking hard. "In prison."

"Oh gods. Joxer." Gabrielle hugged him with one arm, the other moving down to take his hand, hold it firmly. And suddenly there was another arm around him from the other side. Cool silk brushed the back of his neck.

"I'm sorry, Joxer." Xena was there, hugging him close. "I know that doesn't make it any better, nothing will for a while."

"We're here for you though," Gabrielle said, squeezing his hand.

"Thanks," he said, his voice still shaking. "He--" Joxer had to stop, swallowing hard. "He, um, was a really good father, you know? Maybe I was a disappointment because I didn't turn out like him, but he didn't hate me for it. He could've--could've kicked me out of the house," like he had Jace, "but he didn't. He wasn't happy with me, but he wasn't horrible about it."

Gabrielle hugged him harder and Joxer had to hold back a sniffle. He wasn't going to give into that.

It was difficult, for those few moments, standing there with his friends holding him, comforting him. He wanted to give into that tightness in the back of his throat, the burn in his eyes, and they'd probably understand. But he couldn't do it. Couldn't act that...weak in front of them. When Xena spoke again, he was grateful, it gave him something to focus on.

"Joxer? I need you to tell me something," she said, her arm still tight around him.

"I'll be okay," he said, looking up to give her a small, strained smile.

"I know; you're strong." She sighed. "But I need to know where Jett is."

Joxer blinked, surprise rendering him momentarily speechless. He didn't try to deny it though, that really would've defeated the purpose of him coming here. "How did you know that I, uh, know?" he finally asked.

"How else would you know about your father after the castle gates were closed for the night?" Xena gave him a quick, tight hug before releasing him. At least she didn't seem angry about it.

Joxer nodded. "Yeah, he's here."

"Where?" Gabrielle frowned, letting go of him.

He missed her arm around him, her hand in his, but he was grateful for the comfort she'd offered already and he needed to do what he'd come here for. "That's sort of why I'm here. I mean, he wants me to talk to you, Xena, for him."

"Talk?" Xena's eyebrows rose.

"Yeah, I know how it sounds." Joxer snorted softly. "He tracked Dad's murderer here and he wants your help, but he didn't think you--"

"Wait," Xena held up a hand, her eyes narrowing. "How was your father killed?"

"I don't know," Joxer shrugged. "Jett didn't say. He said he wouldn't talk about it yet; I think he's waiting until you're there."

"If I'm right, we'll need more than me." A thoughtful, intent expression settled on her face. "Bring him here, Joxer, to our room."

"Here?" Gabrielle said. "But--"

Xena interrupted, "I think this may be the same murderer who's been killing the people in the city."

"Oh." Gabrielle nodded. "Okay. Give us a few minutes before you bring him up here, Joxer, we need to...." She motioned to her towel and Xena's robe.

"Sure, no problem," Joxer agreed.

But Xena was shaking her head. "No, give it more time than that. I need to get Cleopatra and Iphicles here to listen to this and it may take a while to convince them to be in the same room as Jett."

"Xena!" Gabrielle stared at her. "Jett's an assassin! Even if he's not here to kill Cleopatra -- and I'm sorry Joxer but I still wonder about that -- if she's here when he comes, he might decide to finish the job anyway."

Joxer wanted to protest, defend his brother, but he wasn't so sure Gabrielle was wrong. Maybe Jett was here for the reasons he'd given Joxer, but faced with Cleopatra, a job he hadn't completed, there was a chance that he'd decide to take care of it. Probably after the murderer was caught because vengeance for their father came first, but it might still happen. It wasn't possible to keep Jett from knowing she was here, Joxer was certain of that, but if he didn't see her, wasn't directly confronted with her presence, then maybe he wouldn't be...tempted.

"Gabby, um, has a point," he said. "Jett's not here for that, but...Cleopatra wouldn't be safe."

Xena sighed. "We can't keep this from her, not when she's putting her own guards at risk now. If Iphicles is here, she needs to be as well. Joxer, can you talk to Jett about this?"

He shook his head. "I tried talking him out of it last time. It--it didn't go...well." He shuddered at the memory.

"All right," Xena sighed again. "Then don't tell him. I'll 'reason' with him when he gets here, if I have to."

Like he'd ever been able to hide anything from Jett. Joxer didn't say that out loud but he guessed his expression showed it because Xena reached out and gripped his arm.

"Just bring him here, Joxer; I'll deal with it." She patted his arm, then walked away, back towards the bathroom.

"Should I go with you?" Gabrielle asked. "I just need a couple minutes to throw on some clothes."

Joxer was surprised by the offer, touched, but quick to turn it down. "No! I--I mean, thanks, but I should go back alone. He won't like it if I bring someone with me." Jett didn't like unexpected visitors and his first response was usually fatal to that person.

"Okay, but be careful, all right?" She smiled gently at him.

He couldn't help but smile back. "It's okay, Gabby. Jett would never really hurt me." Not much.

"Be careful anyway." Then she was heading back towards the bathroom too.

"Thanks," Joxer said softly, his voice audible only to him.


Part 7

The distance between their rooms couldn't have been that great, Joxer was sure of it, but he couldn't really confirm it because he got lost again on the way back down. This time though he didn't wander around for more than a couple minutes before he found a servant to direct him the right way.

Down another flight of stairs and this time he couldn't have missed his room even if it hadn't been so close to the stairs. Three servants were exiting the room, two of the men holding empty buckets. One of them had the clothes Jett had been wearing draped over his arm, the ragged shoes in his other hand. Fortunately they all headed the opposite direction from Joxer, down the corridor. Jett's wanted poster had probably been widely circulated and if they'd seen him in there and then ran into Joxer here, Joxer was pretty sure the castle guards would be summoned immediately. So he stayed still on the last step, waiting until the servants were well down the corridor, turning the corner and disappearing from sight, then he moved.

He rushed to the door of his room but didn't just pull it open, he knew better than that. He knocked once, a quick bang of his fist on the worn wood.

"Jett, it's me!" he said, speaking low so his voice wouldn't carry too far, then he yanked the door open and hurried into the room. "Xena'll meet with you up in her room, and--" He stopped when he saw Jett.

Jett was standing in front of the small fireplace, hands braced on wall above it and he was naked...and wet? Jett's body blocked a fair amount of the firelight but there was a lamp in the room now, sitting on the table and as Joxer glanced at the copper tub, he saw that once again it was filled with steaming water.

"The old water was still warm enough to use, and now it's your turn," Jett said, turning around. He'd shaved at some point, his jaw smooth and bare now. His eyes were closed and there was a slight smile on his lips. He tilted his head to the side and Joxer realized he was just enjoying the warmth of the fire. That had to be it because there were unused towels on the bed, right alongside what looked to be a pile of clothes, a mix of leather and cloth, hints of blues and red.

"That was really dangerous, Jett," Joxer pointed out, looking back at Jett. "What if they wonder why you want two baths? Or--or what if what if one of those servants had recognized you?"

Jett snorted. "They think I wanna soak in fresh water for a while. Besides, I just whined and tripped over my feet a couple times, trust me, they think I'm you."

"Hey! I do not whine!"

"Hey, don't worry, Jox," Jett let his head fall back, "it's cute."

"Cute?" Joxer stared at him.

Jett sighed, straightened up and opened his eyes. "Why're you still dressed? Strip and get in there." He pointed to the bath.

"I, uh, I don't think we have that much time; Xena wants to see you soon. I'll just, you know, wash my face and hands, maybe my arms," Joxer said with a nervous smile. He thought he could draw that out enough to give Xena the time she needed.

"Joxer, Xena's a professional." An appreciative, if somewhat malicious grin replaced Jett's smile. "She'll go over wherever we're meeting, have all the exits covered and check everything that can be used as a weapon. So we've got plenty of time. Enough for you to scrub off that layer of dirt you're wearing. So, get moving."

It was an order and Joxer knew that he should just do it, but he didn't want to and his mouth was working ahead of his common sense anyway. "Come on, Jett, I don't wanna--aaah!"

It was only a few steps from the fireplace to the door and Jett had made them fast. His grip on Joxer's ear was tight. "Did I hear you right, Joxer? Are you telling me you're not gonna do what I say?"

"Owowow--okay, okay! Quit twisting! I'll do it just let go!" That was not a whine, Joxer told himself firmly, but it was a whimper when Jett released him, giving him a firm shove between the shoulder blades at the same time and sending him stumbling towards the copper tub.

Joxer rubbed his ear, muttering under his breath but smart enough to keep it inaudible. He pulled his armor off, tossing it aside with angry gestures -- and only getting it caught once when he pulled the front piece off over his head, banging it on his nose and that was really getting old. He was more careful with his sheathed sword and his dagger, setting them on the floor instead of just dropping them. Pulling off his shirt, he sent a glare in Jett's direction, but Jett wasn't looking at him, he was pulling on a pair of brown leather pants. Odd, not seeing Jett in black.

Taking off his boots proved a bit of an ordeal and Joxer ended up flat on the floor once, but at least it left him in a position to yank the boots the rest of the way off. While he was down there he kicked his pants and underwear off too. Finally naked, he sat up and contemplated the bath with a sigh. At least it would be warm, because the room was still cool and the floor was downright chilly on his bare skin. He hopped to his feet -- and almost fell face first into the water. A hand suddenly grabbing arm caught him, steadied him.

Jett didn't say anything, just raised an eyebrow mockingly as he let go. Joxer rolled his eyes and stepped into the tub.

He couldn't help a groan as he sank into the warm water, eyes closing in pleasure; it did feel good. The copper tub was just large enough for him to sit down, knees bent but without them sticking up above the water. He leaned back against the edge of the tub -- and against a bare chest.

"Jett?" He leaned his head back, opening his eyes. Jett was kneeling behind the tub, smirking down at him.

"Here, scrub." Jett dropped a washcloth over Joxer's face. A splash of water sounded a moment before Joxer felt a small bar of soap fall into his lap.

"Thanks," Joxer muttered as he grabbed the soap and the cloth.

He started at his feet, leaning forward to get a better angle. Then water poured over his head and into his face.

"What're you doing?" Joxer sputtered, shaking his head to get the water out of his eyes.

"Washing your hair, what's it look like?"

This time Joxer saw Jett get a double handful of water and he closed his eyes in time. "I can bathe myself, you know," he said when the water stopped cascading down.

A soft snort from Jett. "Yeah, Joxer, after what it took to get you in this bath? Just making sure. Besides, it's faster. Don't want Xena coming here looking for us if we take too long." He chuckled, a dark sound.

Joxer frowned. "Then why do you sound like you wouldn't mind it?"

"What, her coming after me? Might be nice, a rematch. Her and me, bare hands, no weapons, to the death...." Jett's tone had taken on an eager edge that gave Joxer goose bumps, especially since that "rematch" was a good possibility the instant Jett saw who else was in Xena's room.

"She kicked your ass last time, Jett," he pointed out acidly, wanting to head off that line of thought as fast as possible. But to his surprise, Jett actually laughed.

"Yeah," Jett ruffled his hair, making Joxer wince at the hairs being yanked out. "But that was then. I want a second chance, someday. Not now though." With that he held his hand out in front of Joxer. "Gimme the soap; you've got enough on that rag to finish up."

Joxer handed it to him, then tried to continue washing up while Jett worked soap roughly into his hair. It was hard to manage though, with his head being jerked back and forth. Still, he made do because he doubted protesting would do anything but get his ear twisted again.

"So, Joxer, was that little blond of yours there? The one with the staff?"

Jett's mocking tone made Joxer forget caution again. "I warned you about Gabrielle!" he said angrily. "You stay away--ow!"

"Don't try to threaten me, you know better," Jett said, his tone amused now, right before he let go of his handful of Joxer's hair. "Besides, I don't care about her being there, it's the others I wanna know about."

Joxer reached up to rub his sore head, but Jett slapped his hand away. "Finish washing." Fingers carded through his hair, a sharp contrast to the painful grip of seconds before.

He resumed scrubbing his chest but he felt tense, muscles tight and the back of his neck prickling, waiting for whatever Jett would do next.

"So?" Jett prompted. "Xena and Gabrielle, and who else?"

"W-what d'you mean?" Joxer asked as casually as possible, given that he just knew Jett wasn't going to let him get away with it.

A deep sigh, breath ruffling the back of Joxer's hair. "You don't want to do this, Jox, trust me. Now who else is gonna be there?"

"What, um, what makes you think there'll be anyone else?" Joxer asked, chuckling nervously. He really did expect some form of violence from Jett, so getting an actual answer surprised him.

"Common sense. You know, that thing you don't seem to have." The last five words were punctuated by two fingers jabbing at Joxer's temple.

"Hey!" Joxer winced, trying to turn his head away, but Jett's fingers tightened in his hair again, holding him there.

"Xena doesn't trust me, no matter what you said. She'll want to know everything I know about the murders here, and so will others. What d'you think? Will Iphicles risk being there himself?"

"Murders? How did you know about that?" He was still stalling, but Joxer really wanted to know that.

"Joxer, Joxer, Joxer." Jett's free hand dropped down to his shoulder. "What am I going to do with you, hmm?" His grip tightened but not painfully. Still, Joxer winced in anticipation of whatever Jett would do to him for trying to talk his way around this. But again Jett surprised him.

"You think I could get two steps in this city without hearing about what's been happening? All the bodies turning up? Think before you ask, Jox," Jett said.

The hand on Joxer's shoulder tightened just a fraction more. He felt Jett lean in, the back of Joxer's hair flattening against his chest, then Jett's chin was resting on the top of his head.

"Now tell me, who will be there? And quit trying to stall; I'm not gonna ask nicely again."

"Jett...why does it matter? You're just going to talk, and--" He was cut off by Jett shoving him under the water.

He tried to sit up, clawing at the hand on his shoulder, the one on his head, choking on soapy water -- and Jett was pulling him up.

"Let's try that again." Jett sounded too calm, which was always a bad sign. "Who is going to be there?" he said it slowly.

Sputtering, coughing up water, snorting it out his nose, Joxer couldn't have spoken if he'd wanted to. Fortunately Jett seemed to get that, he didn't push Joxer back under. It took Joxer far too long in his opinion to cough out the last of the water, then he tried to spit out the bitter taste of the soap.

"Better?" Jett asked in an amused tone.

"C-come on, Jett," Joxer knew he was whining now but he couldn't help it. His throat hurt, his nose burned and the soapy taste was heavy in his mouth, he thought maybe a little whining could be excused at this point. "I don't--"

Jett's arm was suddenly around his throat, tight, cutting him off, barely giving him enough air to breathe. "I'll make it easy for you, Joxer, I'll tell you what I think and you just nod or shake your head; got it?"

Joxer nodded quickly, not daring to speak in case Jett really started choking him.

"Good. Now, it's Iphicles' castle so I'm thinking he'll be there, right?"

He nodded again, swallowing hard against the pressure of Jett's arm.

"See, that wasn't hard, was it?"

Jett's chin rested on his head again, right next to the hand still gripping his hair. "If Iphicles is there, then Cleopatra will--" Joxer sucked in a sharp breath at her name and Jett cut himself off with a laugh.

"What? You didn't think I knew? C'mon, Jox, she's the biggest news in this city, next to all the murders; I'm not deaf, or stupid."

"I-I-I know," Joxer said, his voice trembling. He figured this was worth speaking up for. "Please, Jett, d-don't try to kill--urk!" Jett's arm tightened further, cutting off his voice and his air. Joxer grabbed at the arm but his hands were wet and slippery and he couldn't get a grip.

"Shh. Now, now, Jox, you know I don't try to kill anyone, I succeed." He paused then, just for a moment. "Oh, wait, I didn't kill my last target, did I?" His tone was full of utterly fake amazement. "Wow, I really should do something about that, shouldn't I? I mean, I do have my reputation to consider. But...not right now." And suddenly he was completely serious again. He loosened his hold, just enough for Joxer to breathe.

Black spots dancing in front of his eyes, Joxer gasped in air. It was long moments before he was breathing normally again and his heart was still pounding.

"Okay now?"

The odd thing being, Joxer knew Jett was actually sincere in his concern, even as casually voiced as the question was. 
He nodded in response.

"Then tell me, I'm right, huh? Cleopatra is going to be there?"

Joxer nodded again.

"That's what I thought. Now, think about this next one carefully; do you know how many guards will be there?"

He shook his head.

"Well," Jett sighed, "I guess that was too much to hope for. We'll have to improvise there. Won't matter how many you saw outside either, they'll change that with me coming. I can work with it though."

Jett released his grip with a suddenness that surprised Joxer. He ruffled Joxer's hair and then his hand was gone, but his chin still rested on Joxer's head, and while his arm wasn't pressed against Joxer's throat anymore, it rested on his shoulder. Jett's hand dangled down in front of Joxer, fingers trailing in the rapidly cooling water.

"Where's Xena's room, exactly?" Jett asked quietly.

"By Cleopatra's rooms. Two floors up; the stairs are right outside on the left." Joxer didn't have any problem telling him that, they'd be going up there soon anyway. "When you get up there you turn left--wait, right and go down the hall and...no, it is left, and you turn the first corner and go down <I>that</I> corridor until...." He frowned, thinking that through, then shook his head. "No, it has to be right because if you go left you end up heading towards the kitchens and--"

"Never mind," Jett said, amusement in his tone. "I'll find the way. Rinse your hair." He pulled back his arm and the pressure of his chin disappeared, leaving Joxer free to move.

Wary, wondering if Jett was going to hold him under or something, Joxer still leaned forward and dunked his head in the water. He held his breath and made quick work of it, scrubbing vigorously until the soap felt rinsed out, then he sat up, shaking his head to get most of the water out, scattering it everywhere.

Behind him Jett chuckled. "Here."

Joxer yelped, jerking back when a dagger was suddenly held in front of him.

"Don't be such a wuss." Jett whacked his arm lightly with his free hand, then flipped the dagger, an expert twirl that ended with Jett holding the blade, the hilt sitting in front of Joxer's eyes. "Take it; you need to shave."

Still hesitant, Joxer reached for it, carefully wrapping his hand around the hilt.

"Good boy." Jett let go, patted his shoulder and then he was gone.

Cool air drifted over his back, making Joxer shiver and miss the warmth of Jett behind him. He didn't miss the choking, dunking and threats though and the water was definitely getting cold, so Joxer wet the blade, then started scraping the stubble from his cheeks. He was very careful about it, this definitely wasn't his dagger, longer and much sharper, and he didn't want to slit his throat.

"Where'd you get this?" he asked, tilting his head back to get under his chin.

"You really think I'm traveling all the way from Miramus unarmed?" Jett chuckled, but it was a humorless sound. "I couldn't take the time to hunt up anything better to wear, but that, well it was easy and fast to grab and let's just say that one of the prison guards won't be needing it anymore."

Joxer sighed, sorry he'd asked. He finished up shaving and set the dagger on the floor beside the tub, careful not to just drop it because it might dull or chip the blade and Jett had always demanded respect for weapons, especially his own. Fishing the wash rag out from the bottom of the tub, he wrung it out and draped it over the side before standing up.

He looked at Jett just in time to catch the towel thrown at him. Nodding his thanks, he stepped out of the tub, drying off his hair as he walked towards the fireplace.

Jett had another towel and was drying off his chest, but he watched Joxer closely, eyes never leaving him, roaming over his body in a way that made Joxer frown.

"What?" Joxer asked, worried that Jett wanted to know something else, but he couldn't think of what that would be. Standing in front of the fire, he let it help dry his back and legs while he wiped off his front.

Jett shrugged, tossing his towel on the floor. "You're looking a little thin."

Joxer raised an eyebrow. "I can count your ribs, Jett."

"That's from prison, no surprise there. You though," Jett shook his head, "I worry about you, Joxer." He grabbed a red shirt off the bed, shaking it out of its fold.

"I'm fine," Joxer insisted. "It's just...hunting is a little tough in winter."

"Yeah, and you couldn't track if your life depended on it, which, come to think of it, it probably does." Jett yanked the shirt down over his head, shoving his arms into the sleeves. "It's a wonder you've made it this long."

"That's not fair!" Joxer threw the towel down, glaring at Jett. "I've done just fine on my own. I help people, Jett. It's not always fighting. I-I'm a good warrior, but sometimes people need help in the fields or fixing things or stuff like that and I make enough money to get most of the basic things, food and stuff. Sometimes," Joxer shrugged uncomfortably, "sometimes I don't have enough and I have to hunt -- but I do okay! Maybe I can't make a great trap but they work some--most of the time, and I learned not to eat any plants the first week after I left home -- the throwing up thing didn't last all that long -- so you don't have to worry about that, and--"

"Jox, shut up." Jett didn't sound angry, just exasperated, but Joxer quickly closed his mouth anyway. "The gods must like you, I don't see how you're still alive otherwise."

"Well, Ares doesn't think much of me -- and I don't know why because I'm one of his best warriors -- and I don't ever wanna meet Bacchus again, but Cupid's nice and I think Aphrodite really likes me." He grinned at that, but it quickly turned to a frown. "Maybe that's not a good thing."

"You've met the gods?"

Joxer had the sudden, unusual experience of seeing his brother shocked. Jett just stared at him, eyebrows raised.

"Not all of them," Joxer said, a little sheepishly.

"I don't believe this." Jett looked away. "You out there blundering around by yourself is bad enough, but being around actual gods? It's amazing they haven't wiped you from existence yet."

"Hey! I do pretty good around gods, you know."

"I bet." The sarcasm was thick in Jett's voice. "You've got the survival instincts of a lemming, Joxer. I'm gonna have to do something about that."

Joxer would've backed up but the heat of the fire was warning enough. "No way, Jett! You tried teaching me weapons before, remember? I'm not doing that again!"

"Oh, what're you whining about? Your arm healed, didn't it? Wasn't like I hacked it off." Rolling his eyes, Jett grabbed something off the bed and threw it at Joxer. "Here, I had the servants bring some for you.

Catching the bundle, Joxer was surprised to see that he held clothes. Brown pants and a blue shirt to be precise. "Thanks. My armor should fit great over this." he said.

"Forget the armor," Jett said in a tone that didn't invite argument. "Stinks anyway."

"It does not! Well, okay, maybe a little, but it's hard keeping it clean."

"I'll give it to the servants later, have them scrap--er, scrub it." Jett smiled at him as he tucked the bottom of his shirt into his pants.

Joxer didn't buy that expression for an instant. "I like my armor, Jett; I want it back."

Jett rolled his eyes again but didn't say anything else against it, so Joxer figured he'd won this time.

"No underwear?" Joxer asked with a frown as he shook out the pants.

"Ruins the line of the leather," was Jett's odd response. Since when had Jett cared about fashion? Joxer decided it was better to just accept it though and get dressed.

Getting the clothes on proved to be harder than he'd expected. His skin was still damp and the shirt stuck to him in places while the leather pants kept catching on his skin. He ended up hopping on one foot, tugging hard at a pants leg while trying not to fall into the fire.

"Would you just get over here?" Jett grabbed him by the arm and dragged him a few paces to the bed, then shoved him down.

"Ouch," Joxer muttered, yanking his arm out of Jett's grasp, but he stayed seated there. He wouldn't admit it but getting his pants on was easier this way.

Jett already had his pants laced and was pulling on what looked to be a fairly nice pair of used boots, light brown leather that matched the pants and hardly any wear on them. Joxer hadn't had anything that nice since leaving home and he couldn't help smiling when Jett motioned to another pair of the same quality, sitting on the floor nearly under the bed. The instant Joxer had the pants on, he grabbed the boots and shoved his feet in.

"Do you think Iphicles would let me keep these?" he wondered aloud as he stood up, stamping a couple times to get his feet settled in the boots.

"I don't care what he says, you're keeping them. Those old boots of yours wouldn't make it through the winter."

Joxer frowned. He'd probably need to ask someone, just so there wasn't any trouble. He wasn't going to tell Jett that though, he didn't want any more arguments. So he kept silent as he tucked the ends of his shirt into his pants and laced them up.

"Let's see." Jett was in front of him then, looking him over critically.

"It's comfy," Joxer said, giving one shirt sleeve a tug. "Maybe I should put on my gauntlets though."

"Forget it. I'll dig up a pair for us both later."

"So...um, can we go?" Joxer was more than ready to get moving.

"In a minute or two." Jett reached out and began lacing the top of Joxer's shirt. "I'm going out first though. Gimme, oh, five minutes is good, then come after me."

"Why?" Joxer didn't move, but it was weird, having Jett fiddle with his clothes like this, fingers brushing against his chest as Jett pulled the laces.

Jett smirked. "I want the way clear. And don't worry," he headed off a protest Joxer definitely would have made, "no killing. I just don't want a bunch of guards between me and the only good way out."

Joxer nodded. There was nothing he could say to stop Jett from doing this so he didn't bother. He wished he could go along but he doubted Jett would let him so he kept silent on that too.

"There." Jett's hands slid up to Joxer's shoulders, resting there. "Looks good."

Joxer guessed that except for the colors of their shirts, they looked pretty much the same. Jett's shirt was laced only partially closed and a glance down showed Joxer that his was done the same way now. Everything else aside from the shirts looked identical from the boots to their hair -- they'd always kept it trimmed about the same length and obviously prison hadn't convinced Jett to grow his any. Any other difference was in their weight, which Joxer didn't think was as noticeable with them both fully dressed, and in their eyes, because he knew he didn't have that manic gleam in his. Jett was right though, it did look good.

"Hey, Joxer." Jett's voice was much softer and that caught Joxer's attention. "We never got a chance to talk back in Miramus; we're going to this time. Not now, maybe not tonight, but you're going to tell me more about what you've been up to and...maybe you want to hear about Dad, things we talked about in prison?"

Joxer nodded quickly. "Yeah, I do." He tried to find something more to say, because he really wanted that, but he could only smile, an expression that felt as shaky as it probably looked. "Yeah," he repeated quietly.

"We'll do that." Jett squeezed his shoulders, then lifted one hand to touch Joxer's cheek. It was a brief caress, the backs of his fingers stroking lightly down, and then he was walking away.

A deep breath and Joxer was able to dampen the ache in his heart somewhat, enough so he could speak. But the door was already closing. Jett was gone.

"Five minutes," he said to himself, his voice loud in a room that seemed far too empty now. "That's, um, a count of one hundred per minute?" That didn't sound right, but he hadn't been the family tutor's best student either so he decided to just go with it. "Five hundred. Okay." He glanced down at his hands. "I need more fingers."


Part 8

The corridor was empty when Joxer stepped out of his room, closing the door quietly behind him. After losing count for the sixth time somewhere after fifty, he'd simply given up and decided enough time had to have passed and he needed to get moving.

He'd belted his sword back at his waist right before leaving; if he couldn't have his armor then he'd at least have that. There was no way he would walk around completely defenseless when there was a murderer somewhere out there, maybe even in the castle by now. Besides, he wanted the scabbard close to him; he didn't trust the servants not to lose something that valuable. His money pouch felt odd, shoved down under his shirt, but he wasn't leaving that sitting in his room either. He may not have had much, just a few dinars, but he wasn't about to let it sit around unattended.

He walked quickly to the stairs and hurried up the two flights. It wasn't something he wanted to admit, but as he moved there was none of the clanking and rattling he was used to, not much noise at all to give him away, especially when he kept a hand on the hilt of his sword, holding it steady so it didn't slap against his thigh. Without his armor he moved quietly, but...it wasn't him. It really wasn't. He missed the armor despite its drawbacks, the protected feeling it gave him. He was vulnerable now, nothing protecting his chest or head and it made him nervous.

Every step he took, Joxer glanced around. The stairwells weren't as well lighted as the halls and there were more shadows, places someone might hide on the landings. Jett had used the shadows of Joxer's room to sneak up on him and that made Joxer doubly wary. He tried to keep an eye both ahead of him and behind, and as a result he tripped fairly often. At least he didn't fall, much, and the couple times he did he managed to catch himself with his hands. Maybe his palms ended up a little scraped on top of the shallow cuts from earlier that day, but it wasn't anything major and he was used to little cuts, bumps and bruises. He made it to the right floor without tumbling headfirst down the stairs and that's all that was important.

"Okay," he whispered to himself, looking around cautiously as he moved towards the corridor just a few paces from the stairs. He kept a tight grip on his sword hilt, ready to draw it the instant a threat appeared. "When I leave the stairs, I turn left. Or right. Or...." He trailed off as the question quickly became irrelevant.

Two Egyptian guards were there. The gold and white armor gleamed brightly in the torchlight, making Joxer squint when he looked directly at them. Only, when he did, he saw something...odd. The guards weren't exactly standing there, they were doing something that looked a great deal like slumping and that was something Joxer hadn't seen any of the guards do any other time he'd been through here. The two men were helmeted and the nose guards plus the faint shadows from the flickering torches made it hard to tell whether their eyes were open or not, so he stepped a bit closer.

"Um...hello?" Joxer said. Neither of the men answered. Granted, they'd never spoken to him the other times he'd been here either, so that didn't tell him anything.

He took a few more steps, bringing him right up to the first of the guards, movements hesitant, worried that getting too close would prompt the man to attack or something, in case he really was awake. But he quickly realized he had nothing to worry about. The man's eyes were closed and when Joxer risked poking him in a bare, heavily muscled arm, there was no reaction.

Instantly Joxer worried about the obvious, that the man, that both of them were dead, but staring for a few moments reassured him. Both guards' chests rose and fell steadily. Either they were unconscious or asleep; knowing that Jett had been through here recently, Joxer was betting on the former.

It was...nice work, Joxer had to admit that. Propped up there, the guards almost looked as though they'd just...fallen asleep on duty or something. A darkening bruise along the jaw of the nearest man was the only sign that it might've been something else.

Joxer shook his head as he moved on; nice work, maybe, but Cleopatra wasn't going to like this. Unconscious was far better than dead though and hopefully she'd see just how much restraint Jett was showing.

He had to turn two corners to reach the corridor he wanted, one to his left, the next one to his right, but he was remembering the way just fine now. There were two guards in each corridor and every one of them was unconscious, propped up against the walls. Joxer just shook his head again in growing amazement. Jett really did good work, even when he wasn't killing.

Outside of an occasional bruised jaw, cheek or the one split lip on the largest of the guards, there was no sign of a fight anywhere. None of the decorative pottery near the walls was broken, none of the torches fallen or gutted and while Jett would've been able to clean up after himself just fine, it would've been hard to do this good of a job in the small amount of time he'd had. Joxer couldn't help but be impressed. Jett had to have moved even faster and more quietly than Joxer had thought he could to pull this off.

And other than the guards there was no sign of Jett passing this way. Joxer saw nothing of his brother until he neared Xena and Gabrielle's room. Even then he never saw Jett until a hand clamped over his mouth and he was yanked back against the wall.

Joxer yelped in surprise and momentary fear, the sound muffled beneath the hand, but Jett was in front of him quickly, holding him against the wall with the press of his own body. The grin he wore was both gleeful and vicious, making Joxer shiver.

"What d'you think, Jox?" Jett whispered, removing his hand and inclining his head to Joxer's right, towards the nearest unconscious guard.

"How did you do it?" Joxer whispered back, admiration in his tone. "How come there wasn't a huge fight? It's like they never saw you."

Jett's grin widened, obviously pleased with Joxer's response. "Hey, I'm the best. You know that."

"Yeah, but this?" Joxer said incredulously.

"Well, I've picked up some new things," Jett admitted with a slight shrug.

"In prison?" Joxer raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

"Don't knock it, Joxer. You meet some interesting people there. Besides," Jett glanced to both sides, then leaned forward, his nose touching Joxer's, "I watched Autolycus when we worked together, but never tell him that." His fingers poked the side of Joxer's head again, but far more gently than Joxer was accustomed to.

Joxer shook his head quickly, odd feeling of his nose rubbing against Jett's. "I--I won't."

"Good boy." Jett patted Joxer's cheek, then he drew back, still grinning. He didn't move away, his body still pressed close, holding Joxer against the wall, but he wasn't right in Joxer's face either.

"Shouldn't we g--go in now?" Joxer pointed towards one of the doors on the opposite wall, off to the left.

"Not yet." Jett said, his voice lowering even further, grin vanishing. "Change of plans, brother. You're going in alone."

"Huh?" Joxer frowned. "Why aren't you--"

"I haven't seen that room and I'm not walking in blind; it'll be a trap."

"No it won't! I trust Xena, she won't try anything."

Jett snorted. "You're so naive. Look, how many guards did you see on the way here?"

"I don't know, maybe six or eight, why?"

"And how many did you see the last time you were up here?"

Joxer's frown deepened as he thought about it. "Um...a dozen or so. What's that got to do with -- oh! I get it;" he smiled, "the rest of them must be on break, right? That's nice of Cleopatra, to give them some time off."

Jett stared at him for a long moment. Then the corner of his mouth twitched and he leaned in close again, bracing one arm beside Joxer's head. "Joxer," he said, so quietly Joxer had to strain to hear the words. "Bro, if you didn't wear clueless like a kitten wears cute, I think I'd have to put you through this wall."

"I--wha--huh?" Joxer blinked. "Kitten?" he latched on to the one thing he'd understood out of that. "I'm not a kitten, Jett. I'm a warrior and you--" He was cut off by Jett's fingers pressing against his lips.

"Shh." Jett smiled. "Yeah, you're right, wrong comparison. A puppy."

"Am not!" The words were slightly muffled by Jett's fingers but Joxer remembered to keep his voice down this time.

He reached up to push Jett's hand away and was surprised when Jett let him. But then Jett's fingers were lacing through his and Joxer found his hand pressed back tightly against the wall, held there as Jett's smile disappeared. He thought maybe he'd pissed Jett off, pushing him away, or maybe he'd done something else because with Jett you just never knew what would set him off. But then Jett was speaking again and Joxer couldn't help a small sigh of relief.

"The guards aren't out here because they're in there, waiting." A sharp jerk of his head, Jett's eyes never leaving Joxer's even as he indicated the door behind him. "It's a big trap, Jox. I already checked out the other rooms around here, especially Cleopatra's. Everything's empty, which means her and most of her guards have to be in that room, probably with some of Iphicles'. I'll take the other way in."

"Other way?"

"Yeah." He grinned, a harsh, sharp expression. "The bathroom in Cleopatra's rooms is shared with Xena's. I heard movement in there so they've probably got guards waiting. Hopefully most of them; that'll be fun." His expression was so predatory that Joxer found himself trying to back away further and only ending up squirming against the wall and his brother.

Jett closed his eyes momentarily. "Yeah, fun," he breathed the words as his forehead touched Joxer's. "Be better if I could kill them...?" he trailed off suggestively, opening his eyes and fixing Joxer with a questioning look.

"Please don't," Joxer pleaded, forcing himself to be still. At least Jett was asking him, which was surprising, but he'd take it if it were offered.

"Fine." Jett sighed, then stepped back, releasing Joxer's hand. "Wait until I'm in there," he jabbed a finger towards the door at the end of the corridor, just a few feet away, "then you go in."

Joxer nodded as he flexed his fingers, knowing no other response would be acceptable. Jett's expression lost its hard, vicious edge in response, a smile touching his lips.

"You're doing good, Joxer," he said, reaching out and placing his hand on Joxer's shoulder. "We make a good team."

"But I don't like killing, Jett," Joxer pointed out. Still, the words and the sentiment warmed him.

Jett shrugged, his thumb moving to brush against Joxer's neck. "I know, but you're a great distraction, gives me more room to maneuver." A squeeze and he dropped his hand. "Now let's do this." That predatory look was back and Joxer was grateful when Jett backed away, giving him a wink before heading down the corridor at a silent trot.

Joxer shivered as he watched Jett go, still feeling the phantom sensation of Jett's thumb brushing against his skin, the press of a cool forehead against his. He just couldn't be sure when a simple gesture would turn into something painful, not with Jett.

At the end of the corridor, the door didn't make the slightest squeak when Jett opened it, or when he closed it after slipping into the room beyond. Joxer knew that was his cue to get moving, but for a moment he just stood there, staring after his brother. Jett had always been...strange, but he seemed to be getting even stranger. It was probably due to prison and their father's death and Joxer couldn't blame him for that. Still though, it was more than a little unnerving.

Shaking his head, telling himself to focus on what he was supposed to be doing, Joxer pushed away from the wall and walked over to the door. Stopping in front of it he took a deep breath to steady himself before raising his hand to knock. He didn't feel as nervous as he had last time he was here, and no wonder. After dealing with Jett, how bad could this be?

Joxer knocked once, rapping firmly with a confidence that was unfeigned, mostly. Like the last time he'd been here though, the sound echoed in the corridor, making him jump. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he waited for a response, one that didn't come. Frowning, he knocked again.

"Xena?" he called out, wincing and jumping again when his voice sounded far too loud in the quiet.

But there was still no response and Joxer wasn't sure what to do, well, other than just opening the door and going in. He wasn't sure that was the best idea but what else could he do? Shrugging in resignation, he pushed the door -- and it swung open. Not much, enough for him to grip the side of it and swing it open further.

"It's me," he said, stepping through the doorway.

He had the brief impression of many people, a quick glimpse of Xena in the back, and then hands were on him, grabbing him and jerking him into the room. Joxer cried out in shock, the noise not quite drowning out the sound of the door being slammed shut and locked behind him.

Fingers dug into his arms, his wrists; his arms were forced behind his back and he cried out again, this time in pain as his shoulder was wrenched. Rope was wound tight around his wrists. He couldn't see what was happening, just large men surrounding him, the bright whites and gold of Egyptian dress mixing with the more subdued browns and yellows of Iphicles' guard. His sword was pulled from the scabbard and hands patted him down roughly, looking for more weapons he guessed. He couldn't move away.

"What're you doing?" Joxer demanded, trying unsuccessfully to jerk loose, barely able to struggle at all under so many hands. "Let me go! Get off me! Xena! Tell them I'm me!" He tried kicking at the nearest guard but his foot was pushed aside and hands fell hard on his shoulders, forcing him to his knees.

"Ow!" he yelled as his knees slammed into the floor. If the carpeting hadn't been there he probably would've broken his kneecaps.

"Xena, come on, that has to be Joxer!" Gabrielle's voice sounded over the commotion.

"Gabby!" Joxer called to her hopefully, then gasped in pain as someone grabbed his hair and jerked his head back.

"It's best to be certain." That sounded like Cleopatra.

Then a sword was at his throat, blade gleaming in the light of the room's lamps. Joxer swallowed hard, immediately going as still as he could.

"Not that certain," Xena said, somewhere behind the men standing over him, she didn't sound happy. "That's enough. Let him go; it's Joxer."

"You're sure?" asked Iphicles from what sounded like much farther back in the room.

"Well if she's not, I am."

Joxer laughed breathlessly in relief. He'd know that voice anywhere, so much like his own and yet just a touch lower, rougher, and Joxer never thought he'd be so glad to hear it.

Between one breath and the next, everything changed. There was an odd sound, a thwack and the guard whose sword was at Joxer's throat suddenly stiffened and...an apple dropped to the floor? The blade fell from the man's hand and he collapsed in front of Joxer, eyes visibly rolling up in his head. And suddenly things were flying, sailing above Joxer's head, striking the guards surrounding him, dropping them all so fast that Joxer barely had time to blink before he was surrounded by unconscious bodies and...fruit. A couple more apples, an orange and two bananas.

"You know, this is pretty nice stuff," Jett said casually from the opposite doorway holding a basket of fruit. "Didn't see anything like it in Joxer's room. Come to think of it, this whole place is much nicer." He tossed the basket aside, fruit scattering along the floor. "Wonder why?"

Without his view blocked by overeager guards, Joxer could see that there were still two guards left standing to one side of the room, one Egyptian and the other Corinthian. They stood by Cleopatra and Iphicles respectively, swords drawn, themselves placed in front of their rulers. Iphicles himself had his own sword out and a wary eye on Jett. Cleopatra held no weapon, but she didn't cower away from danger either. Head held high, she merely stared at Jett coolly.

Xena and Gabrielle were closest to Jett, near the back of the room where he stood and although Gabrielle held her staff at the ready and Xena had her chakram in hand, neither made a move to attack. Joxer wondered if Jett's choice of weapons had surprised them, or maybe it was the fact that he obviously wasn't killing anyone.

"Jett." That was all Xena said, her tone neutral. She held her chakram in front of her, not aiming, not even threatening, just there, ready for use.

But Jett ignored her along with the others, focusing instead on Joxer. "Joxer, get up," he said.

"Sure," Joxer said with a smile, trying to get to his feet. His balance was off though, odd since he knew he had absolutely perfect balance, under most circumstances. Just when he thought he got a foot firmly on the carpet, it slipped and he was back on his knees. "Yep," he slipped again, "be right up." Another slip. "Ow." If his arms weren't tied so tightly behind his back, he knew he would've been up in an instant. "Just gimme a second. Ouch."

Jett rolled his eyes and walked into the room, kicking fruit out of the way as he went. He was halfway to Joxer when he abruptly stopped. A cold smile touched his lips.

"If you really wanna die slow and messy, keep coming."

Iphicles' guard froze. Joxer hadn't even seen the man move but he'd crept forward a couple feet, sword held at the ready. Now, a look of frustration and disgust on his face, the man lowered his sword and backed up towards Iphicles.

"That's better." Jett started forward again, this time reaching Joxer with no difficulties.

"C'mon." He bent down and grabbed Joxer by the arm, then hauled him up.

"Ahh!" Joxer didn't mean to cry out but that was the shoulder that one of the guards had wrenched.

Instantly Jett's expression changed, the coldness disappeared and he frowned. "What?" he asked.

Joxer shook his head. "Nothing, really." It was just a few pulled muscles so he really was fine. He wasn't about to give Jett an excuse to kill by saying otherwise, and he didn't doubt for a second that Jett would kill every guard there if he found out that they'd manhandled Joxer.

"Uh-huh." Jett didn't sound like he believed Joxer one bit, but he didn't say anything else. Instead he shook his right arm and his dagger slid out from inside the sleeve, dropping into his hand. He spun Joxer around and a moment later Joxer felt the ropes around falling away.

He winced as blood rushed back into his hands; those ropes had been too tight. He flexed his fingers as he turned around, hating that pins and needles feeling.

"Okay," Jett was twirling his dagger in one hand, "now that we're alone, we can all have a nice chat. Oh, yeah, your Majesties, Highnesses, whatever," the titles sounded sarcastic coming from him, "about those guards you were gonna use as backup?" He pointed the tip of his dagger towards the bathroom. "Sorry, they won't be joining us. Actually, neither will any of the guards on this floor."

"You killed my men?" Cleopatra asked and although her voice was as calm as Joxer had always heard, there was an undertone of indignation there she didn't conceal.

Jett snorted. "I wish. But, no, you got lucky. Bro here," he rested an elbow on Joxer's good shoulder, "wanted things pretty and neat, so I don't get to have any fun. Everyone's having a nice nap, no harm done."

"Thanks." Joxer smiled at him.

"The things I do for you," Jett said with a shake of his head, but he didn't sound all that upset.

"You wanted to talk to me?" Xena prompted.

"Wanted to? No. More like no choice." Jett sighed, an irritated sound.

His elbow disappeared from Joxer's shoulder, then Joxer stumbled forward when Jett gave him a light shove between his shoulder blades.

"Take a seat," Jett ordered.

"I'm okay here," Joxer said with a shake of his head.

"You won't be. Sit down."

This time Joxer didn't protest, he just walked over to the nearest seat, one right by the door he'd entered through, and dropped into it, wincing when the movement jarred his shoulder. Looking up, he realized that Jett had followed him, was standing beside his chair now, back to the wall as he pushed his dagger back up beneath his sleeve.

That seemed to be enough for the others in the room. Iphicles sheathed his sword, Xena rehung her chakram at her waist and Gabrielle rested the butt of her staff on the carpet. Only the two guards kept their weapons out, and everyone watched Jett carefully. It seemed to amuse him. He smirked before speaking.

"I'm looking for a killer," he said.

"Look in the mirror," Gabrielle said under her breath, but still audible enough.

Jett didn't respond to that but he snorted in what sounded like amusement. Joxer frowned up at him but Jett was already speaking again. "From what I've heard around here, we've all got the same problem, the same killer. I want him, so do you, so we...help each other." He sneered the word "help" as he'd done before and Joxer wasn't sure Jett knew how to say it any other way, not when it pertained to him anyway.

"What's your reasoning?" Xena asked, tone hard. "Convince me, Jett; tell me why I shouldn't just ship you right back to prison. What  do you have that--"

"Information," Jett interrupted, his tone equally hard and far colder, "and experience. You don't have any idea what you're up against here."

"Enlighten me." Xena crossed her arms, eyebrow raising fractionally.

Joxer shifted sideways in his seat, good arm draping over the back of the chair as he looked from Xena to Jett, the uncompromising set to Xena's stance, the fading smirk on Jett's lips. He wanted to reach out and touch Jett's arm, distract him from his verbal sparring with Xena, try to ease the tension, but he knew better, knew what would happen. Jett wouldn't appreciate the interruption and Joxer wasn't willing to be the focus of his anger right now.

Then Jett sighed and leaned back fractionally against the wall. Joxer held back his own sigh of relief and just waited.

"When I went to prison in Miramus -- and by the way, I'm gonna thank you for that sometime, personally." Jett smiled at Xena, teeth gleaming in the torchlight.

"You can try," she replied with a noticeable lack of concern.

His smile turned to a smirk, brief but chilly. "Oh, don't worry, it'll be memorable. Anyway, so I'm prison and the very first day I'm there and catching up with Dad, he tells me some things, rumors about other prisoners dying a strange way."

"Murders are common in such a place, or so I'm given to understand," Cleopatra said.

"Yeah, that's the way of it." Jett nodded. "But this was different. We aren't talking about makeshift knives in the chest or beatings or anything normal like that; their throats were torn open. Nothing else, no other wounds, just that."

Joxer winced, wishing he'd never seen those bodies in the cellar, wishing he didn't have that picture in his head.

"That sounds familiar," Iphicles said, cocking his head, giving Jett a raised eyebrow. "Go on."

Jett's normal smirk was nowhere in sight now. "From what Dad told me it started earlier than that, a few days, maybe three or four before I got there. I came in at the middle of the whole mess.

"You get a lot of disease in prison and there's not many healers who're willing to go in and treat prisoners for free, and they're definitely not paid for it. So when a new one showed up at the prison no one asked questions. He was doing it for free and that's all the warden wanted to know." Barely suppressed anger colored Jett's tone. "It didn't matter that he would only show up at night, that he wanted to be absolutely alone with the prisoners he 'treated', that most of the prisoners just got more sick, or that they 'disappeared' mysteriously only to show up as bodies later, no throats left, drained of blood."

"By the gods," Gabrielle whispered.

"See where this is going?" Jett looked at Xena.

She nodded. "I have a good idea. We've dealt with Bacchae before. I wasn't aware that Bacchus had regained his powers though."

"Bacchae? Not likely." Jett shook his head.

"Vampire," Iphicles said.

"Yeah," Jett agreed.

"But I thought those were just myths," Joxer said with a frown. "You know, made up by people who didn't understand Bacchae. Isn't that what you said?" He looked at Gabrielle.

"That's what I thought." Gabrielle shifted her grip on her staff, hand sliding up towards the top as she sighed. "But with everything else we've seen, I guess it's not a surprise."

Joxer nodded; she had a point. There was so much out there, so many monsters, vampires weren't a big stretch of the imagination.

"Why would this vampire come here?" Iphicles asked, looking at Jett with obvious suspicion.

Jett ignored him, his gaze shifting to Cleopatra. "The son of a whore is Egyptian. He thinks he's safe here, fitting in with the rest of you."

"And how is it you're so certain?" Cleopatra raised an eyebrow in challenge.

"I tracked him back here, to you, Majesty," Jett said sarcastically. "And his name; 'Kadjadja' ring any bells for you?"

"What?" Cleopatra gasped. Her shock was reflected on the face of nearly every other person there, even the guards. Gabrielle looked confused though, staring at Cleopatra with a frown. Joxer didn't get it either, until Cleopatra spoke again.

"He is my personal physician," Cleopatra said, recovering her composure.

Now Joxer understood the reactions. If he and Gabrielle hadn't left the cellar that afternoon, they'd have met the vampire. And if this Kadjadja knew Jett, his reaction to seeing Joxer might not have been good. More people might have died then, more people Joxer cared about. He shuddered at the thought.

"You must be mistaken," Cleopatra insisted.

"Hmm, let's see...um, no." Jett's voice was thick with sarcasm. "Any of this sound familiar: never goes out in the sunlight -- I bet he has all kinds of excuses for that, never eats, hates garlic and never gets sick?"

Cleopatra was silent for a moment, then she looked away. "Kadjadja told me that sunlight causes a bad reaction for him."

"Yeah," Jett snorted, "it's called bursting into flames."

"He specifically requested a room with no windows," Iphicles said. "It's unusual enough that it was mentioned to me."

"The one to the left of Cleopatra's rooms? Yeah, I saw it," Jett said. "Noticed he wasn't there either. Bet he's not there most nights."

"I wasn't aware of that," said Cleopatra. "I gave orders that none of my retinue were to leave this floor at night. It's no reflection on your hospitality," she looked at Iphicles, "my brother has sent assassins before and I wouldn't place my people in more danger than necessary by having them roaming the castle or city."

"That's understandable." Iphicles nodded to her.

"Wouldn't stop him," Jett said. "All he needs to get out is a window and a few guards wouldn't be anything to him. What's happening down in the city, it's his work. He loves killing. Actually, I can kind of understand that." A vicious smirk. "But he doesn't have any imagination."

Iphicles' expression was disgusted. "How do you know that -- any of it?" he demanded. "If you share that much common ground then maybe you're here working with him."

The smirk vanished and Jett straightened his stance, a slow, fluid movement as his muscles visibly tensed. "He killed our father." His voice had quieted, tone flattening and Joxer sucked in a sharp breath, hoping that Iphicles hadn't just made a fatal mistake.

"I don't work with anyone who hurts my family; ask Xena what happened to my last employer." A finger jabbed in Xena's direction, but Jett didn't take his eyes from Iphicles.

Iphicles glanced from Jett to Xena and although Xena said nothing, Iphicles must have seen something in the look she gave him. He nodded. "Okay, you're not on his side. Then how do you know so much about him?"

It wasn't anything close to an apology but fortunately Jett didn't seem to need one. He let his shoulders rest back against the wall again with a sigh. "Because he likes to run his mouth, brag instead of eliminating witnesses. He wants people to see how powerful he is even with his limitations." He shook his head in obvious disbelief. "The idiot actually told me all those things about him. Maybe he thought it would impress me or scare me, both probably." Jett snorted, a disgusted sound. "What would've impressed me was seeing my hand rip his heart out of his chest."

"And yet you didn't kill him," Cleopatra said with an arch of an eyebrow.

"It wasn't that simple." Jett didn't spare her a glance.

"Then what did happen?" Xena asked, shifting her weight onto her back foot. Maybe it was for comfort but Joxer wouldn't have been surprised if she were simply shifting from one battle-ready stance to another.

"Too much," Jett said, and for a moment there he sounded horribly tired. When Joxer looked at him though Jett didn't show it.

"So where was I?" Jett sighed again. "Right, dying prisoners. I couldn't have cared less if every other prisoner in that place dropped dead overnight, not my problem." He shrugged. "Me and Dad were all that mattered, everyone else could take a flying leap right down to Tartarus. Dad though, he had some men in there with him, guys who fought with him and were still loyal. When a couple of them ended up dead, he said he started asking questions and putting the pieces together. By the time I got there he had it figured out and told me what was up. Not that I cared. Wish I would've." He said the last under his breath and Joxer doubted anyone but him had heard it.

Jett leaned back fully against the wall, arms crossing over his chest. "Dad wanted revenge for his men. He had a plan, something to do with getting the rest of his men together and trapping Kadjadja, killing the bastard. I didn't get all the details because I didn't want them. I was only interested in watching Dad's back. He didn't get a chance to do anything though. I guess someone talked, rumor got out, whatever, it all ended the same."

Joxer could hear the hurt in Jett's voice and he wanted to reach out and take Jett's hand, offer him some sort of comfort, but he didn't think Jett would care for that with witnesses around.

"The guards took him one night, said he was sick and Kadjadja wanted to see him before he spread anything to the rest of us. Yeah, right." Jett snorted, a bitter sound. "Those guards...." He shook his head, then looked at Xena, gaze intent. "Kadjadja did something to those guards, to me when I --" He cut himself off, jaw clenching. "I don't know what it is but some of the guards acted like his personal slaves, out doing whatever he wanted them to and when you looked in their eyes...it was like there was no one there."

Joxer shivered involuntarily at the mental image that conjured up.

"What do you mean?" Iphicles asked with a frown, his tone showing interest.

"He can control people?" Gabrielle asked.

"Yeah," Jett said, answering both their questions.

Xena's eyes narrowed. "You're sure?"

"Oh yeah, I'm sure." Another snort, even more bitter sounding than the last. "Money or fear might get the guards on your side but it won't make them die for you, and when they stopped me from going after Dad, you better believe they died. Men go down when they're choking on their own blood or trying to hold in their guts, you know that," he said to Xena.

She nodded once. "But these didn't?"

Jett shook his head. "They just kept coming until I'd taken them all out. Never seen anything like it. I would've admired it but...that wasn't them; it was like I was fighting living puppets." He actually shuddered then and Joxer's eyes widened. He'd never seen Jett disturbed by anything violent before.

"If this also happened to you, how do you come to be here instead of a slave to Kadjadja yourself?" Cleopatra asked, her words skeptical but her tone sounded more of interest, curiosity.

"I was...lucky." A quick, harsh smile. "More than the other prisoners, more than Dad. I went after the bastards that took him but when I found him.... I took too much time killing those guards." Jett's voice was quiet, tense, and he was staring down at the carpet. Joxer wondered, if he looked in his brother's eyes, what he'd see there. Maybe a mirror to the pain Joxer felt tight in his chest.

"You tried," Joxer said quietly, hoping to put the concern in his tone what he didn't dare to actually show. His hands ached to reach out to his brother but he curbed the impulse.

Jett's fists clenched, knuckles turning white and for a too-long moment, Joxer thought Jett might attack someone. But then Jett let out a long sigh, fists slowly opening as he brought his head back up, expression controlled, a forced calm that hurt Joxer to see.

"Dad was a warlord, a fighter, but it looked like he just lay down and let himself be killed. There wasn't any sign of a fight, just Dad sprawled out, throat torn out, blood everywhere. Kadjadja was covered in it, licking it off his fingers."

Joxer had to swallow back the urge to throw up. He had a too-vivid picture of what that must've looked like. His own father, dead like that. He should've died in battle, or from old age, not like a slaughtered animal. Joxer felt his own hands curling into fists, anger slowly simmering up to join the nausea.

"Gods!" Gabrielle exclaimed softly, a disgusted look on her face.

"Whatever Kadjadja did to Dad, he tried to do the same thing to me," Jett said. "When he spoke, it was like I could hear it echoing in my head and his eyes-- It's his eyes!" Anger filling his tone, he stood up straight. "They were...were yellow and I couldn't look away!"

Yellow, like an animal, Joxer thought. But what kind of animal could make people do things just by looking at them? How were they supposed to fight something like that?

"So we warn everyone to be careful where they look," Gabrielle said, getting a slight nod from Xena.

"It doesn't always work, it can't," Jett said. "If it did then I wouldn't've been able to shake it off."

"That's how you escaped? He just...let you go?" Iphicles sounded more than a little skeptical.

"I didn't say that, did I?" Jett glared at him for a moment before looking away dismissively. "I wanted payback for Dad. It wasn't the...smartest thing I've ever done," he admitted with an upturn of the corner of his lips.

Fortunately no one made any comment about that; Joxer wasn't sure what Jett would do if someone provoked him right now.

"I went after him." Jett looked down, meeting Joxer's gaze and Joxer realized that the words were for him alone. "Only the guards on the prison walls carry weapons so I couldn't grab anything inside, but I don't think it would've mattered what I had. He was better than me, Joxer. Much better." His voice was quiet now, but no one in the room was making a sound either, not even the normal metallic shift of weapons or armor and Jett was easy to hear.

"I couldn't touch him, couldn't even get near him. I've never seen anyone move that fast," Jett said but Joxer couldn't picture it, couldn't imagine someone that much faster, that much deadlier than Jett. Xena was Jett's better, but even when they'd fought Jett had gotten in a few hits of his own.

"Did he hurt you?" Joxer had to ask, because it sounded too much like this creature could've easily done more than that.

Jett sighed. "Enough to show me I didn't have a chance at beating him; he liked that, toying with me. It's a weakness." He shifted his gaze back to Xena. "He doesn't kill quickly or cleanly, he likes to play even when there's no time for it."

"We might be able to use that," Xena agreed.

"Yeah, he could've killed me at any time, but he was cocky enough, stupid enough to make it all a game."

Jett sounded furious about it but it made Joxer shiver, the thought of something like that, a monster who could make a game out of torturing and killing people. Say what you would about Jett, at least he never saw it as some sort of fun little game, it was art to him, something he took very seriously. The way this vampire, Kadjadja made light of it was more frightening than the killing itself.

"A game you couldn't win, or so it sounds," Cleopatra said.

"No, I couldn't," Jett admitted, words clipped, jaw clenching. "He got away."

"And you escaped and went after him?" Gabrielle said.

"Oh yeah." Jett's tone took on a vicious edge. "I tracked him here where he caught up with the rest of the Egyptians. Wasn't hard with a trail of bloodless bodies to follow."

"So you want my help in catching him," Xena stated.

"Catch? Try 'kill,' and don't pretend you're not gonna help, we've got a common purpose. I don't know if you can do it, but you're better than nothing."

"Well that's a nice compliment," Gabrielle muttered sarcastically.

"All right," Xena said decisively. "I'll want to work with your guards on this." She looked from Iphicles to Cleopatra. "Maybe Jett and I would be enough to take on Kadjadja, but I'm not willing to count on it."

"You have me, Xena," Gabrielle said. "If you keep his attention, I can get in under his guard."

"Not with that little toy." Jett sneered. "Unless you're gonna try to shove it through his heart, it'll only annoy him."

Gabrielle gave him a dirty look, but before she could say anything, Xena spoke.

"He's right," she said. "Legends tell of many ways to kill vampires, but a staff won't have much effect."

"Then let me try and distract him for you," Gabrielle persisted. "I'm not just going to sit around while you're putting yourself in danger."

"I'm not sitting this out either," said Iphicles.

"Highness," his guard started to protest, but stopped when Iphicles held up his hand.

"No, this thing is killing my people and I'm not going to let others do what I should. I was a soldier once and I still know which end of a sword to hold; I'll help." His tone was firm; Xena just nodded.

"We know he fears sunlight," she said, fingers tapping against her chakram. "If he burns, as you say," she glanced at Jett, "then fire is another weapon."

"One that I'd like to avoid, if possible," Iphicles said. "I really don't want the castle burning down around us."

Xena nodded again. "Then fire is out. You think something wooden through the heart would do it?" She looked at Jett again.

He shrugged. "Kadjadja liked the sound of his own voice but I doubt he told me everything that could kill him; he can't be that stupid. Wood sounds as good as anything else. Me? I'm just looking to carve him up until there's nothing left."

"Decapitation," Xena said thoughtfully. "That might work. We'll need to arm ourselves with the weapons we know. Do you have crossbows in the armory, your Highness?"

"Yes," Iphicles nodded, "and I have a number of guards who are dead shots. I'll use a sword though; I never could aim straight with a crossbow."

"I'm pretty good with one," Joxer said, standing up.

Gabrielle frowned. "Joxer--"

"Forget it." Jett's tone didn't invite an argument, but Joxer wasn't going to be intimidated this time.

Swallowing hard, he straightened his stance and faced his brother. "No, Jett, I'm helping," he said firmly. "That--that thing killed Dad and I'm--"

"Gonna get yourself killed too," Jett interrupted. "I remember how 'good' you were with a crossbow. You couldn't hit the target three feet in front of you, but you sure did take out the neighbor's horses."

"I've gotten a lot better since then," Joxer protested. "I'm a great swordsman too, and I'm going after Kadjadja, for Dad!" Anger worked its way into his tone and Joxer wasn't about to suppress it. "I have as much right as you do!"

Jett's eyes narrowed and Joxer knew he was in for it, but he forced himself not to cringe away, not even when Jett's hand shot out, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and hauling him forward. He found himself up against Jett and it was a struggle not to beg for Jett not to hurt him, to just let him go, but Joxer wasn't going to do that, not this time. He just stared right back at Jett, meeting his glare if not fearlessly, then at least without humiliating himself in some way.

Then Jett leaned forward and Joxer felt a cool cheek press against his, lips touching his ear. "I lost Dad because I didn't play things smart enough, Joxer; I'm not losing you the same way." Jett's tone was intense, voice barely audible.

Joxer blinked in surprise. He never would've expected that kind of sentiment from Jett, or at least not for him to voice it, and it cut through his anger. He didn't say anything when Jett drew back, then shoved him away. He stumbled back a step but didn't take his eyes off Jett.

"Now sit down and shut up," Jett ordered casually, as though nothing had happened.

Obeying seemed the only good response, so Joxer just nodded and sat back down. Jett cared about him, he'd known that, but it still felt good to hear it.

No one made any comments, although Gabrielle looked at him in concern. Joxer just shook his head and gave her a slight smile. She nodded in return, but the concern didn't disappear entirely. He hoped she didn't ask him to explain later because Jett wasn't someone easily explained and he never did a good job of it.

"I'll have guards stationed in Kadjadja's room," Cleopatra said. "If he's not seen when he returns, we will attempt to take him there."

"No." Xena shook her head. "You'll get your men killed. The best thing to do now is to just let him come back without giving him any warning. When we go after him it should be during daylight, at least he's vulnerable to that."

"We have to get him there first," Iphicles said, "All he has to do inside is avoid the sunbeams, and there aren't very many windows outside of the guest rooms."

"Then we wait for him to get into his room; we'll slice him to pieces in there," Jett said, placing a hand on the back of Joxer's chair. "I get him first, the rest of you can have what's left."

"Then you're doing this yourself?" Xena asked, sarcasm coloring her tone as she turned towards him.

Jett sighed, an irritated sound. "Fine, we get him first. So, how about those weapons?" He looked at Iphicles.

"We should arm ourselves now," Iphicles agreed without looking at Jett. "I'll send for a few of my men to meet us at the armory, we can brief them there."

"I will send some of my guards to assist you," Cleopatra said.

"You'll have to wake them up first." Jett smirked at her.

"I'll take care of that." Xena walked towards the bathroom. "Go on to the armory, I'll meet you there. And your Highness," she paused to give Iphicles a steady look, "arrange have those bodies in the cellar burned soon as possible. There's no way of knowing if either of them will become vampires so it's best to make sure."

"I'll have some of the servants see to it," Iphicles said.

Xena nodded and walked into the bathroom.

"My Queen," Cleopatra's guard sheathed his sword and turned to speak to her, bowing low as he did so. "We should return to your rooms, you will be safer there."

She inclined her head in agreement, then followed Xena, a route that would let her avoid Jett.

Neither Gabrielle nor Iphicles took that route, both crossing the room towards the door near Joxer and Jett.

"Hey, Highness," Jett said as Iphicles came closer.

Iphicles might not have acknowledged him, it looked like he was prepared to ignore Jett and keep going, but Jett's next words stopped him.

"Did I ever do a job for you?" Jett asked calmly, but Iphicles' response wasn't.

"What?" Iphicles came to an abrupt halt just before he reached the threshold, staring at Jett in open disgust. "No!" He sounded thoroughly insulted. "I've never had to resort to an assassin to solve my problems." He made assassin sound like a vile insult.

Gabrielle stopped close behind Iphicles, her hands tightening on her staff as she watched Jett closely. Joxer didn't blame her for the caution; he quickly got to his feet, ready to try and restrain Jett himself if Jett took offense to Iphicles' tone or words. But Jett didn't look insulted, more...confused, actually.

"Huh. That's odd." Jett said, tilting his head to the side as he studied Iphicles. "I know your face but if you didn't hire me, where'd I see you?" He seemed to be talking to himself now, frowning. A moment later though he shrugged. "I'll figure it out eventually."

Iphicles said nothing further; looking away from Jett dismissively, he quickly left the room. Gabrielle followed him, but she stopped just inside the doorway. Resting her staff against her shoulder, she gave Jett a hard look.

"You're going back after this, you know," she said with absolute certainty.

"Is that right?" Jett's tone was condescending.

Gabrielle nodded. "Xena and I will take you back to Miramus."

"Me too," Joxer said with conviction.

Jett rolled his eyes. "How about we do this little drama after we fillet Kadjadja?"

"Just so you know that there's no point in running; we won't let you escape," Gabrielle said, then walked from the room.

"We won't let you escape," Jett repeated in a mocking tone, quickly followed by a harsh laugh. "Is she always that melodramatic?"

"She's right, Jett," Joxer said quietly. "You have to go back to prison. I--I understand why you left, and...I guess I can forgive it, but you do have to go back."

"Joxer, I...." Jett looked at him for a long moment, a true smile touching his lips. Then he reached out and ruffled Joxer's hair, laughing again when Joxer jerked away, giving him an offended look. "Now c'mon, we have some weapons to get." And the eager, vicious look was back in an instant.

"You're letting me have weapons? I thought I was supposed to stay out of this," Joxer said sullenly.

"Stay out, yeah, but not defenseless. Maybe Iphicles has a wooden club or something dull that you won't cut your fingers off with."

"Jett!" And there was that whine that Joxer hated in his voice. "I'll get a crossbow, and--and my sword!" He saw it on the floor, by one of the unconscious guards only a couple feet away. When he started forward though, Jett grabbed him by the arm and yanked him back.

"Ow!" Joxer glared at him, but at least it wasn't his sore shoulder.

"Jox, that sword is useless. It has a bent tip! Forget it and let's get moving."

Jett strode from the room, dragging a protesting Joxer right along with him.


Part 9

"It's pretty interesting, the technique, I mean," Gabrielle said as she slowly rotated the spear in one hand. "It's so close to the staff, the way you use every inch of it to fight. The body to block." Catching the spear near the head with her other hand, she shoved the spear outwards, imitating blocking a sword stroke. "The butt to disable." She swung the end of the spear up, stopping it right where it probably would've connected with an opponent’s face. "But this is new. This wouldn't kill with a staff." She swung the other end around, metal end flashing in the torchlight as she stabbed it forward, bringing it to an abrupt halt at chest level.

Joxer swallowed hard, twice before he could manage to speak. Pressed back hard against the armory wall, he stared down at the very sharp spear tip resting against his shirt. He couldn't feel it against his chest, Gabrielle was good enough to stop before it cut through the material, but damn, he really missed his armor.

"T-th-that's great, Gabby," he said, his voice higher pitched than he cared to hear. "R-really."

"No, it's really not." She sighed and released the spear with her left hand, letting the butt descend to the floor to rest beside her foot. "I like the staff, Joxer; you normally can't kill with it and that's a good thing."

"Oh." Joxer took a deep, shaky breath, giving her a smile that was just as shaky. "Well, then don't use it. Here." He pushed her staff at her. She'd told him to hold it while she tried out the spear -- and made him promise to do nothing but hold it. No playing with it and no trying to use it because he didn't know how and would probably just end up hitting himself in the head and knocking himself out. That was offensive because he did too know how to use a staff, and he would've proven it if she hadn't grabbed him by the nose and made him promise not to do anything but hold it. He would rather have had a good sword, his own would've been nice but anything really, so that the scabbard at his waist wasn't so glaringly empty. But he could use a staff if he had to, if she'd ever let him.

Gabrielle was rolling her eyes. "I don't have much of a choice, remember? My staff won't hurt Kadjadja. At least with the point on the spear I can get it through his chest if I have the chance, and then wooden part through his heart." Her words sounded matter-of-fact, but Joxer could see her shiver anyway.

She'd killed for the first time, just a few months before, Joxer was reminded of that as he watched her. It wasn't something she talked about much and he'd only gotten the story in bits and pieces, mostly from Xena, but he could still understand why she didn't want to wield a killing weapon right now. It was too soon.

"Um...Gabby?" He stepped a little closer, just one step, using her staff to rest his own weight on. "I, uh, I don't admit it, usually, but I've never, you know, killed anyone before. I know that's hard to believe," he said quickly, heading off any comment she might make. "I know you always thought I was a killer, but I guess I'm not. Um," he chuckled nervously, unable to read her expression, "what I want to say is...." He took a deep breath, scraping up some courage from somewhere. "I don't like what it's done to you, the killing. You don't smile the way you used to, you aren't writing much anymore and you have nightmares; I heard you crying out in the middle of the night last time I was traveling with you guys. Xena says you'll work through it and maybe you will. And maybe...maybe I don't know everything about what happened, but I know it's changed you and you don't want to do it again. So don't." He shifted his full weight back to his feet and held out her staff. "Take this back and give me the spear, okay?" He reached to take it from her, but she pulled it back.

"Joxer," Gabrielle shook her head, a sad smile on her lips. "I appreciate that, I really do, all right?" She tilted her head to the side, her smile becoming softer. "You're a good man, Joxer and you've got a good heart, one of the best, and I mean that." She placed her free hand on his shoulder, her touch light. "I know you want to help, but you're right, killing changes you and I don't want to see you go through that, ever. Okay?" She squeezed gently, her smile so sad that Joxer wanted to pull her close, give her a hug and tell her that it was all right, except he knew it wasn't and there was nothing he could do to make it any better.

"I just...I don't want you doing this, Gabby," he said, a plea in his tone and probably in his expression too, because he wanted so much to spare her any more pain.

"I know, and you really are a great friend, Joxer, but I'll be all right."

Friend, right. It always hurt to hear her say that but he couldn't deny she was right. If he couldn't be more to her then he'd resolved long ago to be as good a friend as he could. It was...something, at least, to know that he'd succeeded in that much.

She sighed and dropped her hand. "I don't know if it's right or not, but I'm trying not to think of it as killing at all. I mean, this is a vampire, not human or mortal or even alive, right?"

"Um...sure, I guess." Joxer shrugged. It wasn't like he knew all that much about vampires. "Don't you know? You told me a few stories about them." It'd been a while since then, a year at least, but Joxer still remembered bits and pieces of them.

"Sure," Gabrielle snorted, "I know plenty, and almost none of them agree with each other. One says that they can't cross running water and another has them doing just that; I don't know which to believe."

"Well that's helpful," Joxer said with mild sarcasm. Great, none of them knew much at all and what they did know, were relying on, was only what Jett had--

The sharp whistle of a weapon flying through the air was something that Joxer had become used to, traveling with Xena. The sound of her chakram being hurtled made a similar noise, and he was used to tuning it out. Or at least that's what he told himself afterwards, when Gabrielle jumped aside with a warning shout and he just stood there, confused -- until the axe embedded itself in the wall close enough to trim a few of the hairs on his head. Belatedly he stumbled away with a startled cry, staring at the wicked looking weapon.

A single headed axe, the gleaming blade was about half way sunk into the wall, bits of mortar crumbling around it, falling to the floor. It seemed impossible. How could anything, even a big axe, just cut through stone like that without chipping or breaking?

"Ha! I knew it looked Hephaestian!" Jett was suddenly there, yanking the axe from the wall. A bright, violent grin lit up his face in a way that made Joxer back up instinctively, only there was no place to go, just the wall meeting his back.

"Joxer!" Jett's freed a hand to grab him by the front of his shirt and shove him harder against the wall. Joxer gasped as the back of his head rapped against the stone; he already had a lump or two there from earlier falls and now he'd have another to add to them. "Take a look at it!" Jett was holding the axe blade so close to his face that Joxer's eyes crossed trying to focus on it. He gave up, looking past it to what he could see of Jett's face, the sadistic glitter in those dark eyes.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Jett's voice dropped to a soft growl and he let go of Joxer's shirt. He twirled the axe between them, stopping it so the blade sat edge-up, gleaming edge a hairsbreadth from Joxer's nose.

"Not a flaw in sight," Jett whispered as he slid the fingers of his free hand lightly up the handle. "Brightest metal I've ever seen. This handle...the scrollwork is great but it's all metal, no wood or leather, and there isn't a seam in sight! And the edge...." He licked his lips, pupils dilating as the tips of his fingers followed the curved edge of the blade. "Sweet Hades, bro, this is a work of art!" Jett looked close to hyperventilating and Joxer's skin was trying to crawl.

Jett was staring at that axe the way Joxer would stare at a gorgeous woman, and Joxer found that creepy beyond description. Apparently he wasn't the only one, a glance to the side showed a few of the guards stringing crossbows were looking at Jett with a mix of disgust and more than a little fear.

"Are you insane?" Gabrielle's voice came from behind Jett, her tone furious.

Jett's fingers stilled on the axe's blade and his eyes raised slowly. Joxer's breath hitched when he saw the cold look settling over Jett's face. He knew he should say something, head off the disaster he saw coming, but he didn't have the first clue what.

Jett spun the axe once, a sharp, fast move that made Joxer wince; he could feel the displaced air brush across his nose and cheeks. Then Jett turned to look at Gabrielle.

Joxer had to to crane his head to the side to see her himself; Jett was standing right between them, blocking Joxer's view. Gabrielle had the spear up, held in both hands and her weight back on one foot, ready to defend herself if necessary and Joxer breathed a silent sigh of relief. At least she seemed to realize just how much danger she was in.

"You could've killed us with that thing!" she went on, glaring at Jett.

Joxer couldn't see Jett's expression, but he had no trouble hearing that chilling laugh. "Don't be stupid," Jett's said condescendingly, "It went exactly where I aimed it, and I'd never hurt my brother."

He twirled the axe again, one handed, slowly to the right, then fast, back to the left, back and forth. He stepped forward, and Gabrielle took a step back, keeping the distance between them.

"Problem?" Jett sounded amused now and the axe was twirling faster.

"You shouldn't have that thing," Gabrielle said, her eyes fixed on him, not the axe. "Hephaestian weapons aren't meant for--for someone like you!"

Jett laughed, a short, sharp bark that echoed in a room that had become silent without Joxer realizing it. "Little girl, this was made for someone like me."

Joxer tensed, ready to try and grab Jett from behind if he went for Gabrielle. It would probably end with Joxer unconscious but it would distract Jett, give Gabrielle a chance, which he really didn't think she'd have otherwise.

Jett chuckled, a low, deadly sound, and -- turned away. "Hey, Highness!" And Joxer didn't think there was any way Jett would ever make that sound respectful. He didn't need to say it anyway. Iphicles, standing near the door, was watching Jett closely, a hand tight on the hilt of his sword. Jett held the axe up. "Where'd you pick up this beauty?"

For a long moment Iphicles was silent. When he finally spoke it was both abrupt and curt. "Wedding present," he said.

Jett let the axe drop, swinging it in a low arc. "Well your wife's dead so you probably don't need a pretty reminder like this laying around, huh? I'll just take it off your hands for you." Jett's tone said he expected no opposition.

Joxer could see that Iphicles wasn't about to let it go at that. His eyes were narrowing, lips thinning in anger as he tightened his grip even more on his sword hilt, knuckles going white; this was going to go very bad, very fast. So Joxer headed it off the first way that came to mind.

Knowing that Jett couldn't see him -- and silently thanking the gods for that, Joxer waved his hands frantically, trying to get Iphicles to look at him. Fortunately, it worked. Iphicles didn't move, at least not more than a flicker of his eyes, but Joxer was certain he had Iphicles' attention.

Joxer exaggerated the words, spoken completely soundlessly: "Give it to him!" He tried desperately to put the urgency he felt into his expression, repeating the mouthed words again.

Iphicles' grip on his sword hilt didn't loosen in the slightest and if anything, anger was even more visible in his tense expression, but...he nodded. Just once, a sharp, hard movement, and he said nothing. Then he walked away from the door, towards the group of soldiers by the rack of crossbows.

"Joxer!" Gabrielle had turned her glare on him, disapproval radiating from her expression to the way she jammed the butt of the spear into the stone floor.

He winced at the dull sound and her tone, but he met her gaze, shaking his head, trying to tell her to keep it quiet. She must've seen him signaling Iphicles and he really didn't want her drawing Jett's attention to it. But it was already too late.

"Joxer?" Jett turned around, an eyebrow raised.

Joxer tried to step back but he was already flat against the wall. Then Jett grabbed him by his shirt again and yanked him forward into a crushing, one-armed hug. Joxer yelped, but it quickly died into a pained gasp for air. He tried to push away but couldn't get a good grasp for leverage. And Jett was chuckling near his ear.

"You convinced him not to make trouble, to just give this to me, didn't you, Jox?" Jett whispered conspiratorially. "Good boy." He squeezed tighter and Joxer heard his ribs creak, would've screamed if he'd had any breath left, then Jett shoved him away. He staggered back against the wall, sucking in deep lungfuls of air.

Jett was focused on the axe again, handle gripped tight, fingers sliding up and down the oddly graceful arc of the blade. There was no blood, but of course Jett would know the exact pressure he could use before breaking skin. He turned away from Joxer, ignoring Gabrielle completely when he slowly walked away. Guards, both Corinthian and Egyptian, moved quickly out of his way, but Jett never once looked up to acknowledge it.

Still breathing hard, Joxer's shoulders slumped in a mix of frustration and relief. He loved Jett, he really did, but gods, why did Jett do this? But he already knew the answer to that, didn't he? Annoyed with himself now for asking something so obvious, he pushed away from the wall and walked towards where Iphicles stood talking with a guard. Well, it was still more of a stagger than a walk because his legs were weak and his chest hurt, and he ended up falling sideways into a rack of shields, sending most of them clattering to the floor along with Gabrielle's staff which slipped from his hand. He caught himself on the top of the rack, so at least he didn't end up sprawled on his back like he'd expected, but he still felt the familiar burn of humiliation, knowing that people were staring at him.

"Here, Joxer." Gabrielle still sounded upset, but her arm slipped through his, helping to pull him up.

"I'm fine!" Joxer snapped, jerking away from her. The movement sent his elbow knocking into one of the shields still hanging on the rack. It slid off, banging into the other two remaining shields; they all crashed to the floor. Joxer cringed but managed to get to his feet this time without any more problems. Stepping over the shields, he didn't look at Gabrielle as he continued towards Iphicles.

The commotion had taken Iphicles' attention from the guard and he was waiting as Joxer approached him, anger still clear in his expression.

"Your Highness," Joxer started, then paused as he took a quick look over his shoulder. Gabrielle was right there, coming to stand on his left, but Jett was well away from them, standing near the back of the armory taking practice swings with the axe, his back to everyone else in the room. Satisfied that Jett wouldn't overhear, Joxer nodded and looked back at Iphicles.

"You had to give it to him," Joxer said quietly. "He would've killed someone if you didn't, probably you."

"I'm aware of that. He looks at that axe like Paris probably looked at Helen." Iphicles' tone was hard and the look he gave Joxer was anything but friendly. "But forgive me for not being happy about giving a weapon like that to someone like him."

Joxer looked away uncomfortably. "Sorry. But, um, when this is over, Jett's going back to prison," he said, hoping that would help. "I'll get it from him before he leaves."

"You'll get it?" Gabrielle asked incredulously.

"Who else?" Joxer gave her an annoyed look. "At least me he won't chop into little pieces; he likes doing that, you know."

"I think I guessed," she said sarcastically, returning his look. "Let Xena do it, okay?"

"No, I'm not going to let Xena deal with Jett all the time," Joxer said stubbornly. "He's my brother and I know how to handle him."

"Like last time?" She raised her eyebrows and Joxer just knew she'd heard about that underwear incident, probably from Autolycus.

He crossed his arms. "Well at least I know enough not to call him insane to his face."

Gabrielle rested one hand on her hip, the other holding the spear in a tight grip. "He didn't kill me, did he? Xena and I will take care of it." Her tone was final and Joxer rolled his eyes.

"He didn't kill you, probably because he knows I'd never forgive him for it; I told him to leave you alone." And maybe he hadn't been so sure that Jett would listen to him, not for a few tense moments there, but in the end, Jett had.

The anger seemed to drain out of Gabrielle, her hand dropping from her hip as she sighed, leaning more of her weight on the spear. "Joxer," she started, her tone far more quiet, soft.

"Enough," Iphicles interrupted, drawing their attention. "Work it out somehow, just get that axe away from him." With that he turned from them, anger still plain in the tightness of his broad shoulders as he walked away, a crossbow gripped tightly in one hand.

Joxer watched him go, regret pushing away annoyance. "I--I just didn't want anyone hurt," he said softly as Iphicles grabbed a quiver of bolts from one of his soldiers and strode from the armory.

"I know, Joxer." Gabrielle came to stand beside him. She looked up at him with a small smile. "We'll figure something out, okay? And...we'll probably need your help," she admitted, her smile widening.

Joxer couldn't help but return it, smiling back at her.

"Help with what?"

They both looked up to find Xena standing there watching them curiously. "Does this have something to do with why Iphicles nearly ran me over on his way out?"

"Uh, yeah." Joxer glanced towards Jett who was busy yanking the axe out of the back wall, bits of mortar and stone crumbling to the ground at his feet.

"Who gave that to him?" Xena asked, appalled.

"Well, he found it on his own, I guess," Joxer said, uncertain how Jett had actually come by it. "But, um--"

"Joxer thought it was a good idea to just let him have it, avoid anything...unpleasant," Gabrielle said quickly, saving him from fumbling through an explanation. He'd managed it with Iphicles but he'd been upset then and it'd given him more determination. Faced with a disapproving Xena, that rapidly vanished. "We'll get it back from him when this is over," Gabrielle assured her.

"How?" Xena glanced at them in disbelief before looking back at Jett.

"I'll...ask him for it." Joxer shrugged, and was treated to heavily skeptical looks from them both.

"All right," Xena shook her head, "we'll deal with it later. Right now, Joxer, I have a job for you."

"Really?" He couldn't help the sarcasm in his tone. She'd given him enough "jobs" before for him to make a pretty good guess that this would be like all the rest, safe, quiet and utterly pointless.

"Yes," she said firmly. "I want you in Cleopatra's rooms, guarding her."

"Oh, you mean with the dozen other guards she'll have there?" He raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to try and make it sound better than it was.

Xena sighed. "Joxer, I know you want to help and this is the best way. I need someone I know there with Cleopatra. Yes, guards will be there too, but if something goes wrong they don't know how I work, you do. Just...stay close to her, please."

When she put it that way, well, it was probably still a nothing job, but at least there was a point to it somewhere. He nodded.

"Thank you." She smiled.

"Yeah." He glanced away. "So, should I go up there now?"

"No, not yet. I talked with Cleopatra, I still need to tell Iphicles and," she paused, looking over to where Jett was still working with the axe, "him, but I don't want everyone in position until after dawn. We want to give Kadjadja the time to get back to his room, feel safe, then we move. We can't have armed guards roaming the corridors until then or we'll risk him knowing what's happening."

"So what do we do?" Gabrielle asked.

"I want everyone to try and get a little rest before dawn. We have a few hours and there's not much else we can do. Lack of sleep means mistakes and we won't be able to afford that. I'll have the servants get us up about before first light, then, Gabrielle, you'll be with me and some of the guards in our room. I'll have Iphicles take one of the rooms close to Kadjadja's and Jett...I suppose we'll figure that out after I talk to him."

Gabrielle nodded, as did Joxer.

"Okay," he agreed, but not with much enthusiasm. "I'd better go then." An idea was forming in his head, not much but it might make a difference. He needed to make a side trip before heading back to his room.

"Joxer, wait," Gabrielle said before he could move. She walked away quickly, stopping by a guard who was busy rehanging the shields Joxer had knocked down. Her staff was still there on the floor where he'd dropped it and Joxer felt bad for that. He should've remembered to pick it up, as she was doing now. She'd entrusted it to him and he shouldn't have left it there.

When Gabrielle came back, she held the staff out to him. "Keep it for me, okay?" she said with a smile. "Use it if you need it."

"Really? Thanks, Gabby." He smiled back, taking it from her. "I promise I won't leave it laying around again either."

She nodded in response and his smile widened. She was trusting him not only to keep her staff for her, but to use it if he had to, and no lectures about breaking things or hurting himself. That felt good, it didn't make up for being stuck with Cleopatra when he should've been helping with the ambush, but it still felt nice.

"See you in a few hours," Joxer said, then walked past her and Xena towards the door.

As he went, he looked over at Jett, wondering if he'd find his brother's eyes on him like so often these past few hours. And had it really only been that long, just a couple hours since Jett had shown up? It felt like half an eternity with everything that had happened in such a short time.

Jett was still occupied with his axe, his back to Joxer and the rest of the room. Joxer didn't doubt for a second that anyone trying to creep up on Jett from behind would be in for a nasty, and likely fatal surprise.

Tripping over something brought his focus back to where he was going. He didn't fall but a glance around didn't show anything he could've tripped over either -- until he looked directly down and found the butt of Gabrielle's staff near his feet. Great, he'd tripped himself. A quick glance around showed that at least no one was staring at him.

Shaking his head in exasperation, he leaned the staff on his shoulder, butt well off the floor and away from his legs. This time he made it out of the armory without incident.


Part 10

Joxer had seen many scary things over the past few years of traveling with Xena and Gabrielle, everything from the average homicidal warlord right up to angry gods ready to take out anything in their way. And yet somehow none of those had seemed as intimidating as Erita, Iphicles' head cook.

A full two heads shorter than him she was dressed in little more than a thin peplos as a nightshift, and yet with every step she took towards him, Joxer found himself backing further away. He couldn't explain it, why the way she was gripping that wooden spoon made him want to bring Gabrielle's staff up defensively in front of him, but he couldn't stop retreating either.

"It--it won't be a problem, will it?" Joxer asked, feeling the threshold under his heel as he took another step back, almost completely out of the kitchen now.

"I already told you it won't," Erita said, irritation heavy in her tone. Thick black eyebrows met over her nose as she scowled at him. "We have plenty of garlic to spare and from what I hear is happening in the city, this would put it to good use. Now are you done here?" she demanded, one hand resting on a wide hip.

"Um, sure, yep, all done. Well, heh...." Joxer paused, both feet on the sloped stone of the threshold now. "It's just.... Maybe I  should check with King Iphicles first? I mean, sure, it's my idea but this is his kitchen and food and this isn't stealing, is it? Because I gave that up you know."

Her expression turned dark, eyes narrowing. "This is my kitchen! I decide how the food gets used. Now you, out!"

"Okay; thanks!" Joxer said as he quickly backed out into the corridor. "Just have it in Queen Cleopatra's room before sunrise; I'll take care of the rest."

Erita's glare deepened and she took a menacing step forward. Joxer decided that was his cue to get out of there fast.

He didn't know why she was so hostile towards him, she sure hadn't acted that way towards Gabrielle earlier in the evening. Well, all right, maybe he had woken her up when he'd walked into the kitchen, but torches were lit there so could he be blamed for thinking that someone was still awake? How was he supposed to have known that they kept one lit through the night, or that Erita slept on a pallet right beside the doorway? When you looked at it that way, tripping over her really hadn't been his fault.

And maybe she already had a reason, a little one from the first time he'd been here, when Gabrielle had taken him to find something to eat. But that hadn't been his fault either. He hadn't meant to spill the cauldron of soup Erita had simmering over the fire, but like he'd told her, she really shouldn't have had that pile of fire wood sitting there in the middle of the road either, then he wouldn't have fallen over it. She hadn't taken that piece of advice too well and Joxer had barely gotten the last of his dinner eaten before she'd shoved him out of the kitchen. She hadn't made Gabrielle leave though and that wasn't fair.

Joxer really hadn't wanted to come back here but he wasn't about to check the cellar for garlic, not with those bodies possibly still down there. And even if they'd already been burned the memory of them there was far too fresh. So it had to be in the kitchen, and that meant asking Erita. At least she hadn't kicked him out right away and maybe now he'd be able to help out a little.

Once he was well away from the kitchen he slowed down. He'd made it down here without getting lost and he didn't want to lose his way now because he was in too big of a hurry. He wanted to get back to his room and try for a little sleep, not spend the rest of the night wandering the corridors.

Without Erita standing right there glaring at him, Joxer felt a little foolish for being so intimidated by her. There was nothing he could pin down that would explain why exactly she'd made him feel like that and he was just glad that Gabrielle hadn't been there to see it. He realized that he was still holding her staff in front of him, gripped tightly with both hands like he'd have to defend himself at any moment. Feeling even more ridiculous now he quickly lowered it. Gabrielle used it as a walking stick most of the time so he tried that now, holding it loosely in his right hand and moving it along in rhythm with his steps.

The butt the staff made a dull thunking sound every time it hit the floor, the sound echoing through the empty corridor. It was a dull, sometimes hollow sound that seemed to emphasize how alone Joxer was there, not a guard or servant in sight. He shivered slightly and couldn't help glancing around in sudden nervousness; he wanted to get back up to his floor where there were at least a couple guards in every corridor.

At least everything was looking familiar from when he'd been through here before; he wasn't lost yet again and that was a small comfort. There weren't as many torches lighting the way as there were on the floor above where he was housed, but there was still plenty of light to see by, and he definitely recognized that ornamental urn by the wall to his left. It was huge and from what he could see, depicted one of Zeus' many flings, this one with what looked like a nymph. He'd have to turn the urn to be certain though and he wasn't all that interested. He did think it was kind of funny though, an urn with a scene like that in the home of Hercules' brother. Joxer wondered if that's why it was down here, where guests didn't usually come. He passed by it with an shake of his head, brief amusement bringing a fleeting smile to his lips.

Beyond that, further up the corridor and to his right, there was a small lacquered table with a large crack running across the top, ruining the black finish. There were a couple of old, frayed tapestries he passed on the left as well as a dented shield high up on to his right. He assumed that the stuff had sentimental value or something, otherwise why not throw it out? It wasn't as though any of it had much use as decoration anymore. Even in a corridor used mostly by servants, none of it looked quite right.

When the corridor ended, it branched out to both the right and the left. Gabrielle had told him earlier that the right branch would take him outside towards the barracks and standing there, he could feel a trace of cooler air from that direction, so he turned left. The stairs wouldn't be too far up ahead, again to his left. If he remembered it right, he needed to pass four storage rooms and then he'd be there. He counted them off silently on the fingers of his left hand.

A torch sputtered near him, a sudden crackling sound that made him jump, tightening his grip on the staff as he stopped and looked around.

Nothing. He was just alone in the corridor as he'd been since leaving the kitchens. It didn't stop the hair on the back of his neck from standing up though.

"Joxer the Mighty, he roams...through the...." Joxer couldn't get more than the first few words of the song out before he let it trailed off. His voice echoed too loudly in the emptiness around him; it sounded wrong somehow, harsh in the silence.

Swallowing hard, he stood up straight and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He was a warrior, he told himself sternly, and he wasn't going to be left quaking in his boots from a few noises. In fact, he thought as he stood even straighter, he wasn't afraid at all. He was a fearless warrior and empty, shadowed corridors weren't enough to scare him. That settled, he continued down the corridor with a confident stride and even if he did feel a touch of relief when he passed the last door and turned the next corner to the stairs, he didn't let it bother him.

Except...this wasn't the stairs.

Joxer stopped just inside the doorway and looked around in confusion. This wasn't another storage room, wasn't even a room proper. There was no door, just an open arch around him and the room beyond was shallow enough to be some sort of closet, but the only thing there was...a shrine. No, more than one, three, one against each wall of the small room. The two on the side walls were tiny wooden tables, the one on the right obviously to Demeter with the pile of grains, beans and seeds there, probably patronized by the servants who worked close by in the kitchen. The one to the left was to Athena and obviously frequented by the soldiers, likely by way of the barracks. A high quality sword lay on the table alongside an arrow, coins scattered over and around them. But none of it compared to the third shrine in the back of the room.

A large sun had been carved into the wall itself above a small, white marble table. The sun painted a brilliant gold, there was little doubt who this was dedicated to. But why? That Joxer didn't get. What use would anyone here have for a shrine to Apollo? Unless it was his healing aspect they were asking blessings from, that might make a little sense. There were enough accidents and illnesses in any castle to justify a shrine, but then why not to Asclepius instead of his father? Joxer didn't understand, but he supposed he didn't need to either. No one needed his permission on what gods to worship.

He started to leave, intending to backtrack a little, see if he missed a turn somewhere, but something stopped him, a stray thought.

The shrine to Apollo reminded him a little of the one they'd had in his home. It'd been to Ares of course, you didn't see anything else in the house of a warlord, but it'd been otherwise similar. Ares' symbol had been carved into the wall just over a small marble table, although it had been black instead of the grey-streaked white of this one. The shrine in Joxer's home had always been covered with weapons used in battle and bits of treasure captured from the enemy, but the shrine before him now was empty, the marble gleaming bare in the dim light of the one torch that hung near the doorway. Still, the setup itself was pretty similar and the memory tugged at Joxer.

It'd been a couple years now since he'd actually worshipped any of the gods. Oh, he had no problem cursing them, but worship seemed to have dropped out of his life and he was well aware of why. Since meeting Xena and hearing about her personal encounters with the gods, then actually meeting a few himself, he just hadn't felt quite right worshipping them. He didn't think under any circumstance he could worship Ares anymore, not knowing that Ares didn't like him, thought he was a joke. No matter if a god in particular liked him or just didn't care one way or another about him, they all just seemed too familiar now, even human in a way, for him to pray to. It was confusing and he had yet to figure out his own feelings about it; worship had just kind of...fallen by the wayside.

But right here, in this place, well, his father had always taught them to respect the gods and he wouldn't have approved of Joxer just walking away. And it wasn't like they couldn't use all the help they could get with the vampire.

Joxer sighed and fished his money purse out from under his shirt. He could work through his own problems with it later, this was the right thing to do now.

He didn't have many dinars but he could spare a few; he didn't have anything else to leave on the shrines. He started with Demeter's, leaving one dinar and saying something he hoped would pass for a prayer. He'd never worshipped Demeter, or any of the other gods represented here, for that matter, never been to one of their shrines or temples, and he wasn't sure what to say. He settled for something generic, praising each god for their generosity -- and if there was a touch of sarcasm to that, he thought he could be forgiven after his encounters with the gods lately -- and asking for their blessing over the people of the castle. He repeated it at Athena's shrine, being a little more specific about blessings for the guards, Xena and Gabrielle there, and then at Apollo's shrine.

He paused there, after muttering his prayer, and reached out to run a finger over the edge of the carved sun. He'd prayed that no one would be harmed when they went after Kadjadja, and that if they were, Apollo would lend his help to their recovery. But now he fished out another dinar from his money pouch and placed it on the altar.

"We could really use a sunny day tomorrow," he added quietly. "Actually," he chuckled without humor, "we're kind of counting on it. I think a lot of people might die if we don't get it. Could you, you know, help out?"

That was about all he could ask, and he thought that might be pushing it a little, given that he'd never offered a prayer to Apollo in his life. He could recall cursing him once or twice when the sun was too hot and his water supply was too low, but a prayer? Not until now. This probably didn't make up for the curses.

He slipped his money purse back inside his shirt. At least he'd tried to do something here. If he wasn't going to be allowed in on springing the trap, then he could pray for its success. If Kadjadja got out of his room, sunlight would be the biggest help they could get. The days had been sunny for the past week, but it didn't hurt to ask for another one, just to be sure.

"You'll need more than prayer."

Joxer's head snapped up and he gasped in surprise. He tried to turn quickly but the staff caught between his feet and he ended up stumbling back against the altar. He grabbed the edge with one hand, the marble surprisingly warm against his palm, and he didn't fall. The dinars he’d left on the altar clattered on the marble and one rolled close to the edge, settling against his hand, but he didn't hear either fall.

A man stood in the archway before him, the torchlight gleaming brightly off his gold vest, pants and boots, brightly enough to make Joxer wince and try to find something else to focus on. His gaze flickered briefly over muscled arms crossed over an equally impressive chest before he settled for looking at the man's face, doing his best to ignore the eye-dazzling outfit.

The man didn't look familiar, didn't look too much like the average Corinthian, either with that deep tan and the dark blond hair, but maybe he was a guest?

"Um...hi," Joxer said, straightening up. "If you want to pray, I'm just leaving."

"Nah, heard you praying. You're gonna need this." He must've been holding something concealed in his hand, because now uncrossed his arms and tossed it at Joxer.

Joxer made a grab for it, missed and sent Gabrielle's staff clattering to the floor along with the object. He knelt down to pick up both the staff and the...amulet? That's what it seemed to be. A long chain containing a gold shape at the end. He stood, pushing himself up with the staff while examining the disk.

A pendant in the shape of a sun and although Joxer was no good judge of such things, it looked like real gold, felt weighty in his palm. It was also the kind of amulet someone dedicated to Apollo might normally wear. Then Joxer suddenly understood, or at least sort of. That was a pretty nice altar to Apollo there so of course there'd be someone to tend it and Apollo's priests were kind of on the bright and glittery side, at least from what he'd seen and granted, that had been from a distance. Still, it made a kind of sense.

"Thanks," he said, giving the man -- no -- the priest a regretful smile as he held out the amulet, "but I'm not dedicated to Apollo."

"Yeah, I think I knew that," the priest said with more than a little sarcasm. "Take it anyway. Wear it and don't take it off for any reason, got it?"

"Um, okay." Joxer shrugged and pulled the chain over his head, letting it fall against his chest. "Thanks," he said again. "Oh!" A thought suddenly occurred to him. "Could you, I don't know, maybe bless us all for tomorrow?" A little extra help sure couldn't hurt anything.

The priest gave him a disbelieving look. "You're really pushing it," he said. "I just gave you plenty of help."

Joxer sighed. "Well, you're a priest, aren't you? Isn't this something you're just supposed to do?"

For a long moment the priest just stared at him, then he groaned and rolled his eyes dramatically. "Why me?" he muttered, barely audible. "Everyone <i>else</i> in the family has a genius or two in their corner, and I have to sift through the slow ones."

Joxer wasn't sure what to make of the priest or his words, but he was afraid he'd offended him. Maybe it was a money thing? The guy looked rich so maybe he was used to being offered something for his services. "Um, you know, I have some more dinars. I could just make a donation or something?"

The priest looked up, then crossed his arms again with a long sigh. "Forget it. I'll take care of it; just don't take that amulet off, okay?"

"Okay." Joxer figured it didn't hurt to promise. It might bring him some luck.

"Good. And Joxer? Stairs are right out there." The priest pointed to Joxer's left. "I gotta go catch some rays. Later." The priest didn't give him any other farewell, just turned and walked away, gone in seconds.

Joxer blinked. Well, that was...weird.

The slight weight of the amulet against his chest drew his attention back to the priest’s gift; he lifted it, running his thumb over the circular center of the pendant. It was probably the nicest thing he'd ever owned, bright and well made and -- what was that? He could feel something on the back, ridges pressing against his fingers; it felt like...lettering. He flipped it over. It was writing, so very tiny he had to squint to focus on it, lips moving as he sounded out the words.

"Made in Chin."

Joxer shook his head. "Iphicles has the strangest priests."

He tucked the amulet inside his shirt and headed back out into the corridor.


Part 11

When Joxer shoved open the door to his room, he was more than ready for a few hours of sleep. Hopefully the fire had warmed the room in his absence because it was getting more than a little chilly in the corridors.

For once he hadn't gotten lost on his way back, but while he was climbing the stairs he'd just gotten so tired. Maybe it was the whole day catching up with him. He'd had a lot to deal with in just a few hours and he could really use some rest on top of it. Unfortunately, the second the door yanked open, independent of him pushing it, he knew he wouldn't be getting any, at least not anytime soon.

"Where have you been?" Jett stood there, one hand clenched into a fist, the other gripping the door edge so tightly his knuckles were white.

"Wha--Jett?" Joxer frowned at him. "Huh?"

"Oh, yeah, that tells me a lot. Get in here!" Jett reached out, grabbed him by the front of his shirt and hauled him into the room.

"Hey!" Joxer pulled free of him as he stumbled forward, nearly dropping Gabrielle's staff in the process. "What's your problem?" he asked in irritation as he turned to look at Jett.

"My 'problem?'" Jett slammed the door. "We're waiting for a vampire to walk into the castle, one that knows what I look like, and you're just wandering around out there? Do you have any idea what could happen if Kadjadja sees you?"

Joxer was tired of this, Jett pushing him around, telling him what to do. He wasn't putting up with it anymore, or at least not right now because he doubted he'd be able to stand up to Jett all the time. Tonight, though, he was sick of it. He stood up straight, gripping the staff tightly. "You know what, Jett, I'm thirty-two years old--"

"Thirty-three," Jett corrected in a condescending tone.

"Whatever, that just proves my point. I'm more than old enough to look after myself! I don't have to ask for permission whenever I go somewhere and I don't have to tell anyone when I decide to do something, not even you. Get over it!" Joxer was a little surprised when the words came out of his mouth, at the tone. He'd never spoken to Jett that way before, never dared because he knew how painful the consequences would be. But right now...it just felt right and there'd be a snowball fight in Tartarus before Joxer would back down on this.

Jett's eyes narrowed and he took a step forward. Joxer swallowed hard but held his ground, refusing to back up or cringe away. Not this time.

"Well." Jett's voice was quiet. "Well, well." And suddenly the anger vanished and he smirked. "Hanging around Xena really is giving you a backbone." He reached out and despite the lack of anger, it was a struggle for Joxer not to flinch back. But Jett did nothing more than clap a hand firmly on his shoulder.

"It's about time," Jett said, squeezing. Unfortunately that was the shoulder that had been hurt earlier and Joxer had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop from crying out. Jett let him go quickly, though and walked past him.

Joxer managed not to sigh too loudly in relief; that had gone far better than he had a right to expect given Jett's normal reactions to him talking back. But Jett hadn't been acting too "normal" lately anyway, and Joxer wondered if he was wasting his time trying to predict anything Jett did.

Shaking his head, dismissing the issue for the moment, Joxer propped up Gabrielle's staff beside the door.

"Hey, lock that while you're there," Jett ordered as he dropped to his knees beside the fireplace.

Joxer nodded and slid the small bolt into place. It certainly wouldn't hold up for long if someone decided to force their way in, but it would be enough to give them warning. The metal of the bolt was cold beneath his palm, a chill that matched the air around him, Joxer noticed. He'd been too focused on dealing with Jett before to realize just how much the fire hadn't warmed things up. The tips of his fingers felt icy and his nose wasn't too far behind. He couldn't see his breath in the air, but it was chilly enough that he looked for it.

Joxer glanced at the shuttered window; it had to be the source of the cold air. If all the windows on this floor of the castle had such bad shutters, it was no wonder the hallway had been so cold. In an enclosed room, though, it was even worse. He thought about trying to secure a blanket over it, but then Jett was speaking again.

"Come over here and help me." Another order, but there was nothing sharp or angry in his tone, just the calm expectancy of being obeyed, which Joxer did.

There were two cords of wood beside the fireplace where none had been the last time Joxer had been in the room. Jett was busy cutting the thin rope that held one of the cords together and didn't look up when Joxer stopped next to him, just a pace or two from the pitifully small fire.

"I'm not having servants traipsing in and out of here the rest of the night; it was easier to just have one of them bring wood and let us take care of the fire ourselves," Jett said, answering Joxer's unspoken question.

"Oh. Okay." Joxer didn't know what else to say to that, what Jett wanted him to say.

Apparently Jett didn't expect any sort of reply. He was silent again as the edge of his dagger finally cut through the rope, the twined strands parting under the sharp blade with a faint snapping sound, the ends fraying as they fell away.

Uncomfortable with just standing there staring, Joxer dropped down to his knees, the movement a little awkward, unbalanced. He caught himself with one hand on the cold, gray stone of the floor, sitting back on his heels as he steadied himself.

"Here." Jett handed him one of the logs.

About the thickness of Joxer's forearm and just a little shorter, it wasn't in any way heavy or difficult to handle, so Joxer didn't understand why Jett hadn't put it on the fire himself. This wasn't exactly a two man job.

Joxer looked from the log in his hands to Jett in confusion and not a little suspicion, which began to dim when he saw the slight smile turning up the corner of Jett's mouth. There was nothing malicious or cruel there, just...well, Joxer wasn't quite sure what name to put to that expression. "Nice" came close, but that wasn't something he associated much with Jett. Except...Joxer knew Jett was capable of it on the rare occasion, even rarer since they'd grown up. It hadn't been quite as scarce when they were children.

There were times, Joxer remembered, when they'd all helped each other out when it hadn't really been necessary. Necessity had never come into it. Being set to sweeping out a room and then scrubbing the floor had been Joxer's punishment once, for shattering an urn he'd already been told not to touch. It wasn't a big room and there hadn't really been space for three half grown boys there, but Joxer had soon found himself squeezed in there with his brothers, cleaning in silence, sharing the occasional smile with them. He'd missed that.

Returning Jett's smile, Joxer's own bordering on a grin, he placed the log on the fire.

He pulled his hand back quickly when the flames flickered wildly at the intrusion. He shook his hand, flexing his fingers, but there was no damage, no more than fleeting warmth either, too quick to banish the coldness in his fingers.

Jett set another log in beside the first one, though he let his hand linger perilously close to the flames.

Joxer glanced at him worriedly, just as Jett drew his arm back with a slight grimace.

"You know, frying your hand's not gonna be much better than freezing," Joxer pointed out with mild sarcasm.

The corner of Jett's mouth quirked up again, the smile rueful this time. "Yeah." That was all he said, his eyes never leaving his hands as he slowly rubbed them together.

Joxer watched him for a few moments, those hands that were so similar to his. There was a scar there, just above the knuckle of Jett's right thumb; Joxer didn't have one there, but it kind of looked like the one he had on his left index finger. He wondered, as he reached out to take Jett's hands in his own, if Jett had gotten his the same way, a bad sword block.

Jett's hands were shockingly cold, although Joxer didn't suppose his were any warmer if the shiver Jett gave at his touch was any indication. Jett had gone completely still, ceasing to rub his hands, so Joxer did it for him, sliding his hands over the backs of Jett's, back and forth. The angle was awkward, though, with Jett sitting a good three paces away from him.

"C'mere." Joxer didn't look up from their hands but gave Jett a light tug.

Jett took a sharp breath. "Joxer...."

Joxer rolled his eyes at the reluctance he heard there. "We're both cold; we can warm up better like this."

Silence from Jett for a long moment; he was so still. When he spoke again his voice was soft. "Sometimes I don't think I'll ever be warm again."

That brought Joxer's head up, his hands stilling and his eyes going quickly to Jett's face, to the expression there that sent a different kind of chill through him. Jett looked...far away. Far away and faintly horrified, and that was a shock to see on Jett; very little ever bothered him. Joxer didn't want to see that; it frightened him, thinking that there was something out there bad enough to make Jett of all people look like that.

"Jett," he said, tightening his grip on Jett's hands.

For a moment there was no response, Jett just sat there staring at the fire and Joxer doubted he was seeing anything but whatever was going on inside his head. Then Jett blinked, a frown creasing his brow as his gaze shifted to their hands. He pulled at his hands, a less than subtle hint for Joxer to let go. But instead of obeying as he usually did, Joxer shook his head and tugged Jett towards him.

"Just come over here," he said quietly.

Jett opened his mouth, probably to argue, but he quickly closed it, his expression unreadable as he looked at Joxer. Joxer had no intention of letting him go, not when he'd seen that...look on Jett's face. Joxer had no idea what Jett had seen to put it there, didn't want to know, really, but he wouldn't let Jett be alone with it, even if Jett thought that's what he wanted.

Maybe Jett saw that, saw something of the resolve Joxer felt because he didn't argue or order Joxer to let go. Instead he sighed and bracing the side of his boot on the floor, pushed himself closer until he was sitting beside Joxer, arm pressed to his side, knees touching Joxer's thigh.

"That's better," Joxer said with a satisfied nod.

Jett didn't say anything but he didn't protest either when Joxer began rubbing his hands again, just looked closely at him, silently.

Joxer let his gaze fall to their hands, frowning briefly as he watched his thumbs moving back and forth over the top of Jett's. He could find the stubbornness to order Jett to do something for his own good but suddenly he couldn't meet that stare. Not for long. Jett was just...too quiet, watching him, and Joxer couldn't keep looking into his eyes without feeling...odd. Not scared, at least no more than normal around Jett, but...no, it wasn't fear. Akin to it, maybe, but he really wasn't scared at all, not here, now. It just felt odd...strange, and he didn't know how else to describe it.

Their hands were starting to warm up, the friction, along with the slowly growing warmth of the fire finally starting to take the chill from their skin. Joxer slowed the rubbing motions but he didn't stop, not entirely. He thought that just maybe, if given the excuse, Jett might not pull away, would accept the comfort Joxer was offering.

A long sigh, Jett's breath warm against Joxer's cheek, ruffling the ends of his hair.

"You're taking care of me, Jox." Jett sounded amused, but he didn't pull away.

Joxer smiled; okay, so maybe he wasn't being as subtle as he'd thought. "Yeah," he agreed. "It's not like you'll let anyone else do it."

"It's not like I usually need it," Jett countered, some of the amusement vanishing.

"You do now," Joxer said.

Tightening his grip just in case Jett thought about moving away, Joxer made himself look up, meet Jett's eyes. It was still there, that strange look Joxer couldn't decipher. Even tempered with Jett's mild amusement and faint smirk, Joxer could <I>feel</I> that look and a tiny shiver tried to work its way through his shoulders. He forced it back, succeeded, but he couldn't quite make himself smile, couldn't stop his heart from speeding up just that much more.

"It was always me and Jace," Jett said, his tone quiet. "We were the ones taking care of you."

"I remember." And the memories made it easier for Joxer to find a smile, faint as it was. Under any other circumstances he might've reminded Jett about mentioning their brother's name out loud, but they were alone and he supposed that between them, it really didn't matter. "I would've been fine though, you know, because I could always take care of myself," he said.

Jett's eyebrow raised, skepticism as obvious as the amusement and Joxer found it in himself to truly smiling now. "But I always liked you guys being there," he admitted, because he wasn't that delusional; he'd needed their help so many times back then.

"Brothers," Jett said, a statement that sounded like so much more than just a word.

"Yeah," Joxer agreed, because he understood everything that meant.

Then the amusement was gone from Jett's face, vanished behind that unreadable expression and Jett was silent, just watching him. Joxer didn't look away, forced himself to meet that intent gaze for as long as he could, wondering if this time he might see something there he could understand. See whatever it was that made his muscles go tense, made that tight knot of anticipation curl up in his stomach; so close to fear, to dread, and yet he didn't feel like he had to run, only look away and it would be gone, ignored. And Jett would let him. But Joxer didn't let himself, not even when Jett leaned forward. So close, his eyes right there, filling Joxer's vision.

Their noses brushed; Joxer forgot to breathe.

"Joxer...." Jett's voice was barely there, less than a whisper, one that Joxer could feel more than hear.

Whatever Jett was going to say or...do...Joxer couldn't imagine, couldn't even think and Jett tilted his head, leaning even closer -- and rested his forehead against Joxer's shoulder.

Finding himself staring at the bed across the room, Joxer blinked and finally remembered that air was a good thing, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

This was...beyond weird, beyond any sort of oddness he'd ever experienced with Jett, and there'd been plenty over the years. Joxer wasn't sure what was going on, just that it had him torn between wanting to run away as fast as he could, escape that strange, tense feeling that was/wasn't fear, and staying right at Jett's side and see them through whatever it was. Not that it was a hard decision to make, or even a decision at all. Jett was family how...weird could it get between them, anyway? Well, okay, pretty damn weird and getting more so with every passing hour, but Joxer didn't even consider pulling away.

Keeping one hand over Jett's, he slid his other arm around Jett's shoulder and hugged him. He knew it was a risk, that Jett might decide to just snap back to his normal self and give Joxer one of his normal "hugs," the ones that were just shy of bone-crunching, but it didn't feel right to just sit there and do nothing either.

"What is it, Jett?" he asked, giving Jett's shoulders a light squeeze.

Another sigh and Jett shifted, turning his head so that his cheek rested on Joxer's shoulder. His hair brushed against Joxer's neck, soft strands but scratchy at the ends; it was close to being ticklish and Joxer smiled slightly.

"Ever had an epiphany, Jox?" Jett asked quietly, breath warm against Joxer's neck.

"E--Ephiny?" Joxer said with a frown, distracted by Jett sliding one hand out of his, moving it up, wrapping lightly around Joxer's wrist. "Um...Ephiny...had her? I don't even really know her, Jett. I mean, she's that Amazon friend of Gabrielle and Xena's and they talk about her sometimes and she <I>sounds</I> nice but I think she's living with the centaurs or something and I'm not good with horses so we really wouldn't work out and -- what?"

Jett was laughing.

Muffled against Joxer's shoulder at first, Jett pulled back, shaking off Joxer's arm as he continued to chuckle, the sound loud now over the low crackle of the fire. And he was grinning, real humor there as he shook his head.

"Joxer, what am I gonna do with you, huh?"

"Um...I don't know?" Joxer answered, smiling back, shakily because he didn't understand what was so funny, whether he was being laughed at or not. It didn't seem like it, but with Jett, who knew?

"You can always make me laugh, Jox, even when you have the worst timing."

"Huh?" Joxer frowned, but Jett paid no attention.

Giving Joxer's shoulder a hard squeeze -- Joxer winced and would've tried to pull away but Jett was already moving -- Jett let him go and stood up, chuckles dying away abruptly as he got to his feet.

Still frowning, Joxer watched him walk away, turning to keep Jett in his sight as he walked over to the small table on the side wall. Without any idea of what Jett was doing, what his mood was right that instant, Joxer wasn't sure what he should do. It was getting far warmer by the fire and he wasn't adverse to sitting there for a while; the floor was even warming up some -- or maybe it was still freezing and he was just losing feeling in his ass. He really wanted to go to bed, to curl up under the covers were it would definitely warm up, and he knew he'd need all the rest he could get tomorrow, but he thought it was...safer to just stay where he was, for the moment. At least until he'd figured out what Jett was up to now.

That didn't take long.

"Put on another log and get over here," Jett said without looking back at him.

Joxer couldn't see what Jett was doing, but he heard the clank of metal. That was enough to make him curious and he was quick to put on the extra log and push himself up to his feet. Sucking on the ends of three fingers because he hadn't pulled back his hand fast enough, Joxer walked over to join him.

Stopping just behind Jett, Joxer caught his breath when he saw what lay on the table. Weapons and bits of armor and all so shiny and new, sharp and studded and obviously very, very expensive, very well made. Gauntlets and daggers, a sword, what looked like the end of a belt under it, and beneath the entire pile, the familiar edge of an axe peeked out. It seemed that Jett was serious about hanging onto that weapon, not that it came as a surprise to Joxer. But the rest of it, it was nothing he'd expected to see.

"Wow! This is nice stuff!" Joxer reached out to grab one of the daggers, but a slap to the back of his hand made him jerk back. "Hey!" he glared at Jett, rubbing his hand.

"Stay," Jett said, pointing two fingers at him in warning, although the corner of his mouth was tilted up in a smirk. "Not gonna have you cut yourself into ribbons."

Joxer rolled his eyes. "I know exactly how to handle a dagger, Jett. I've have one of my own, you know." He glanced around, looking for where he'd dropped it along with his armor when he'd bathed.

"Um...." he frowned, turning to give the room a much closer look. "Where's my armor, Jett?" He didn't see it anywhere, not a hint of a breastplate or helmet, not even his old clothes were where he'd left them, piled on the floor next to his armor. "It's gone!" he turned quickly to Jett, looking at him accusingly.

"Oh, quit panicking," Jett said, exasperation coloring his tone. "I had a few servants haul it out of here. And yes, clean it, not throw it away -- which is what should happen to it, if you ask me."

"It's mine, Jett, and I'm not getting rid of it. But...thanks, for getting it clean." Joxer tried not to be too grudging in his thanks, but it was difficult with Jett talking like that about armor Joxer had worked hard to afford and put together. "Is my dagger being cleaned too?"

"That thing?" Jett snorted. "Please. It was brittle, dull and if you'd cut yourself with it -- which I sure as Tartarus wouldn't wager against -- you'd probably have ended up with lockjaw. Forget about it."

"But I need it, for defense!" Joxer said.

"Yeah, yeah." Jett waved his protest aside. "Here. Picked these up for us after you left the armory." As he spoke, he grabbed two of the gauntlets and held them out.

"Huh?" Joxer frowned at him, the abrupt switch in subjects, the dismissal of his concerns leaving him feeling unbalanced. He looked down at what Jett held, the studded metal over hard brown leather. "Gauntlets?" .

"What, you don't like them?" Jett raised an eyebrow.

"No," Joxer cut off that line of thought quickly. "No, they're fine." That was true enough. Even if he'd never been able to afford any high quality work himself, he'd seen enough in his travels to recognize it. "It's just...okay, maybe it wasn't a great dagger, Jett, but I really do need it and--"

"Would you leave off about that thing?" Jett said, annoyance coloring his tone as he dropped the gauntlets back on the table, metal striking metal with a loud clatter. "Look, I'll give you one of these daggers, okay? Happy now?"

"Oh, okay...um...thanks." Joxer blinked in surprise. He really hadn't expected Jett to part with any of the weapons lying on the table. He knew all too well how much Jett liked his blades, how possessive of them he could get.

"Good. Now c'mere." Then Jett reached out, hooked his fingers in the front of Joxer's pants and yanked him forward.

Joxer stumbled right into him, crying out in surprise as they collided. Jett didn't even step back at the impact, smirk still firmly in place. Joxer quickly braced his hands on Jett's shoulders and shoved backwards, for all the good it did him. Jett held him right there, gaze never leaving Joxer's. But he wasn't still, his other hand was suddenly pressed against Joxer's stomach and Joxer sucked in a sharp breath reflexively.

"Jett?" Joxer heard his voice squeak but he really couldn't help that under the circumstances, which were...what, exactly? What was--

Jett's grabbed a handful of his shirt and yanked it up, pulling the ends out of his pants. A bare second later something struck the floor with a dull clinking sound.

His money purse. Joxer had forgotten that he'd tucked it inside his shirt. It hadn't been comfortable at first, but he'd obviously gotten used to it to have forgotten its presence.

"Don't keep that inside your shirt," Jett said casually, then released him with a shove. "It looks ridiculous and you're not fooling anyone."

Joxer stumbled back a couple steps but quickly found his balance. He grabbed the small purse off the floor, giving Jett a glare as he stood up straight. It annoyed him that Jett was telling him what to do yet again, but at the same time, realizing it what it was all about, he felt sort of...relieved, which he couldn't quite understand. It was easier to let that slide, though, to focus on the other issue.

"Well, where am I supposed to keep it, huh? I'm not leaving my money here where someone could walk off with it," he said pointedly.

Jett rolled his eyes. "Joxer, you're the guest of a king. Better though, you're my brother. Trust me, no one here is about to rob you. But, if you're really that worried about it, shove it down one of your boots."

A simple solution, but one that had never occurred to Joxer. He smiled sheepishly. "Right, thanks."

"Yeah, now gimme this." Jett reached out and began swiftly unbuckling Joxer's belt.

"Jett!" Joxer made a grab for his belt but Jett was way too fast and yanked it off before Joxer could touch it. "Give it back!" He tried to grab it again but Jett pushed him back with a negligent shove of one hand.

"It's a crap belt, Joxer. It's cracked and worn and it'll break soon. I got you a new one."

It was the belt Joxer had seen the end of, beneath the weapons. Jett pulled it out now, shoving the gauntlets and weapons back against the wall. It didn't differ much from Joxer's old belt, same length and brown color, but this one was, if not new, then close enough as to make no difference.

Setting his money purse on the edge of the table, Joxer took the belt from him with a small smile. "Thanks," he said, running his fingers over the smooth leather. He couldn't help thinking that he was thanking Jett a fair amount, lately, more often than he'd ever expected he'd need to. Jett usually wasn't nearly this...generous. Jett seemed to be in a giving mood though, as odd as that was, and Joxer was more than willing to go along.

"I meant to get a new one, new boots too, but I just didn't have the money," he said with a shrug.

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Jett said as he pulled the scabbard off Joxer's old belt. He held out his hand for the new one and Joxer handed it over without comment.

"I'm not always that bad off," Joxer said as Jett started threading the belt through the loops on the back of the scabbard. "Sometimes I do pretty well, just...not lately."

"Uh-huh." Jett didn't look up from what he was doing but his tone spoke volumes.

Joxer rolled his eyes. He had a feeling that no matter what he said, Jett would never believe that he really could take care of himself.

"Dad gave this to you, didn't he?" Jett asked.

"Yeah," Joxer sighed. "The only thing he ever gave me."

"Hey, it's better than the set of daggers he gave me. Thoughtful, but cheap. They broke the first year inside one of my targets; sloppy. This though, it's useful. And," he paused and picked up the sword from the table, "it should hold something way better than that worthless piece of metal you've been sticking in it."

Joxer didn't know what to say to that, not right away. Jett giving him a dagger was weird enough, but parting with a sword too? For a few moments Joxer could only stare at him and the sword, wondering what in Tartarus had gotten into his brother.

"Perfect balance," Jett said, giving it a swing that made Joxer flinch back. "It's nothing fancy, but that would make you a walking target, so this is better." He slid the sword into the scabbard, then held it out, belt and all.

Joxer took it hesitantly, wondering if Jett would yank it away at the last second. But Jett just watched him, expression amused, and only dropped his hand when Joxer had it all firmly in his grasp.

Jett was right, it wasn't anything nearly as nice as the swords Xena or even Iolaus carried. No decoration, just a plain blade and metal hilt bound with leather, but that was still far better than anything Joxer had ever been able to afford on his own. And if Jett approved of it, then it had to be a sturdy, serviceable sword. It was the kind of thing Joxer would never have expected from Jett.

He still wasn't sure what to say. "Thank you," didn't quite cover it or give him answers. "Jett...I thought you didn't want me having a sword."

Jett snorted. "I know you, Joxer, you would've found another eventually. At least this way I know you've got a good weapon. Yeah, you'll probably still end up cutting off something important, but since you're so set on doing your own thing, have at it."

"I'll be fine," Joxer said with conviction. "It, um, it is a much better sword, thanks." He could at least admit to that, seeing that Jett was giving in on something too.

Jett just watched him. His smirk had changed, becoming something closer to a smile, but it was...odd. Playful in a way that didn't seem as malicious as the one Jett usually wore. Suddenly uncomfortable and not sure why, Joxer looked away.

"We, uh, we get to keep all of this?" he said. It wasn't the most brilliant thing he could've said, but it was better than the awkward silence, although, he had the suspicion that the awkwardness was only on his part.

Jett chuckled. "I'd like to see anyone try and take it from us."

Joxer had to suppress a sigh. Of course no one would try that, not with Jett there, but he bet that the minute Xena had Jett in chains and on his way back to prison, all of it, the weapons, clothes, everything, would be taken right back. But Jett wouldn't want to hear that and Joxer doubted it would hurt anything if he just kept silent and enjoyed having the stuff as long as he could.

"So...um, what else do you have?" He looked over what was piled on the table but didn't see anything else of note.

"Oh, just my new favorite toy." Jett's voice was fond as he carefully pulled the axe out from under everything else. His grip on is seemed...not quite gentle as he held it up, but it came close, and the way he ran his fingers over the blade.... Joxer took a step back, suddenly wanting some space between them, like maybe a few leagues worth. It was creepy.

"This is a thing of beauty, bro," Jett said with sigh, twirling it once.

Joxer would've backed up another step, but Jett turned and walked away. Joxer would've sighed in relief, but a moment later Jett dropped down onto the bed, resting the axe in his lap.

"Hey! I'm not sleeping with that thing anywhere near my bed!" Joxer warned.

"Our bed," Jett corrected, "and I don't want to let it too far out of my reach. I always keep a weapon close and this one.... It's just so...perfect." Jett breathed the last word and once again he was stroking the blade, his gaze focused solely on the weapon he was cradling in his arms now.

Joxer let the "our bed" comment pass because of course he'd share a room with his brother. It wasn't so much that they were family as the fact that he knew everyone else would want Jett staying with the one person who had even the slightest chance of controlling him. But the rest of what Jett said, the way he was looking at that thing, touching it...Joxer repressed a shudder.

There was nothing he could say to part Jett from the axe, that much was obvious, but Joxer couldn't just say nothing either. "Maybe...um, maybe you could use one of these daggers instead?" He motioned to the three daggers shoved up against the wall. Not that he liked the idea of sleeping with a dagger under his pillow or between them or anywhere near him at all, actually, but he knew better than to try to sway Jett on this idea. He hadn't known that Jett liked to sleep with weapons, but it didn't surprise him either; Xena was the same way.

"Hmm?" Jett didn't look up at him and for long moments he said nothing else. Then, "I don't think so," he said distractedly.

Well, it wasn't like Joxer hadn't known it was futile. He supposed he could live with it for one night, assuming he could get Jett to at least keep the thing out of the bed. Shaking his head, he set his belt and scabbard on the table, managing to catch his money purse with the side of his hip when the scabbard knocked into it.

He spent a few moments balancing himself with one hand on the table while he tugged his boots off with the other, then he shoved the purse far down into the toe of his right boot. He'd test it out tomorrow and see if he could walk with it like that. If not, well, he'd think of something else. For now though, he set his boots beside the table and walked over to the bed.

The fire may have put a bit of warmth into the room, but it wasn't much and it hadn't done anything for the floor. The stone was freezing against his bare feet and Joxer didn't take his time getting to the bed, despite his distaste for getting anywhere near that axe. He quickly sat on the bed next to Jett and pulled his feet up, crossing his legs.

Jett hadn't moved in the slightest. Even the jostling of the mattress when Joxer sat down hadn't prompted him to look up from his contemplation of the axe. That was more than creepy, not to mention disturbing on some very weird levels.

"I'm not sleeping with that thing," Joxer stated as he tugged the back of his shirt out of his pants. "You can lean it against the wall or something." It sounded more confident than he felt. If Jett insisted, Joxer knew it wasn't an argument he would win. But maybe he could sleep by the fire; it would be sort of warm, at least.

Jett didn't answer him, just continued to touch the axe. The long handle resting against the crook of his left shoulder, pointing towards Joxer, the blade resting on Jett's right knee as he caressed the blade with his fingertips, stroking back and forth. He was--was fondling the thing, Joxer realized with a sudden shiver.

"Gods, Jett! Do you want, I don't know, some privacy with that thing?" It came out sharper than Joxer had intended and he winced, hoping Jett wouldn't smack him for it.

It did get a response though. Jett looked over at him, a slight frown creasing his forehead. "What?"

With Jett looking right at him, Joxer couldn't repeat what he'd said. But the fact that even while looking at him, Jett was still running his fingers over the axe blade, made Joxer force himself to say something.

"Well, I mean, you know, if that works for you then I guess it's okay--not that you need me to approve!" he held up his hands placatingly when Jett's frown deepened. "It--it's better than some things, I mean, um, at least it's not guys like with, you know, Jace, or something."

Jett's eyebrows went up in sudden comprehension. He looked down at the axe, then back up at Joxer, his expression incredulous. "Joxer, this axe is gonna be a part of me, but I think it might be just a little painful to fuck it."

Joxer couldn't help it, he tried and the laugh came out as a choked snort. The image that conjured up. He slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle the giggles, but they came anyway. Jett watched him, a grin spreading across his face, and then he was laughing too. Joxer dropped his hand and let the laugher out, joining his brother in the shared ridiculousness of it.

It didn't last long but it was enough. Jett was actually smiling and he wasn't looking at the axe anymore. Joxer grinned back.

"You're a weird guy, Joxer," Jett said with an amused shake of his head

"Isn't there some saying about glass houses?" Joxer said wryly.

Jett's grin widened and, moving too fast for Joxer to avoid, he reached out and tweaked Joxer's nose.

"Hey!" Joxer protested, jerking back and rubbing his nose. But he was still grinning right back and it hadn't really hurt anyway.

"Since you're so jealous of my toy," Jett said in a teasing tone, "I'll prop it up by the bed tonight, okay?"

"I am not jealous!" Joxer said truthfully, but he nodded his thanks anyway.

Jett snorted as he leaned over to carefully prop the axe up against the wall, letting it rest blade down.

Joxer knew he was being teased and decided not to respond, instead, uncrossing his legs so he could stretch out on the bed. There was only one pillow and it was thin, so he tucked his arms beneath his head as extra cushioning.

"What's wrong with men?"

Jett's odd question snatched Joxer's attention away from his attempt to find a spot that wasn't lumpy in the mattress.

"What\?" he looked over at his brother, but Jett's back was to him and that was all Joxer could see of him as Jett leaned down.

"Never saw any problem with it, myself." Jett shrugged as he sat up. He shifted positions a little to the side, letting Joxer see his face, the unconcern there, and the boot he was holding before he let it drop beside the bed.

Joxer just stared at him in disbelief. "But--but--" before he could come up with anything to say, Jett was already speaking again.

"Never gave a damn one way or the other," Jett said as he brought his right foot up and began working off the boot. "I mean, I've got needs, same as the next guy, and I take care of it the same way, I'm just not too particular on how. Not like it means anything to me." He paused then, boot half way off, frowning. When he spoke again, his voice had dropped and Joxer had to strain to hear the words. "At least...not until lately."

This wasn't a conversation Joxer had ever expected to be having with his brother, either of them. Not that he'd under any circumstances talk about something like this with Jace, but if he ever would've thought about it, he guessed he would've expected for Jett to be like him, to talk about women. This...this wasn't...Joxer didn't know what to say to this, didn't even know why Jett was bothering to tell him any of this. He had to say something though, couldn't just let this stand the way it was.

"But, Jett.... Dad." And it hurt just to mention him, made Joxer wince as he pulled his arms out from under his head, pushed himself up on his elbows. "Dad, he said, um, well, you remember what he said when Jace--"

"Dad said a lot of things years ago." Jett finished pulling off his boot and dropped it next to the bed. "But that was then and he said other things to me in prison." He swung both legs up onto the bed and for a moment he was silent, looking down at Joxer. "We've got a lot to talk about, Jox," he finally said, quietly. "Dad had some...regrets, and he said some stuff...." Jett trailed off with a shake of his head, looking away.

"So, tell me," Joxer prompted.

Jett shook his head again, this time a refusal. "There's not enough time now. We need to get some sleep and talking about that...it's better done after we take care of things here." A hard edge slid through Jett's tone at that and Joxer was quick to nod in agreement. There was no arguing with that particular tone and he wasn't in the mood for what would happen if he tried. Later would have to be good enough.

Besides, he was tired. Very tired, now that he thought about it. His shoulder was still sore from the earlier injury and various other aches and pains were making themselves known. That aside, because, really, he was used to getting hurt, he was plain weary. There'd been so much to deal with in just a few hours and the next day promised to be long and trying.

Letting his elbows slide out from under him, Joxer lay back on the bed and ran his hands over his face with a sigh.

The bed dipped further beside him and Joxer dropped his hands in time to see Jett move, swinging a leg over him and--and...straddling him? Joxer froze, eyes widening as Jett stared down at him, knees pressed against his hips, hands pressed into the bedding by his shoulders. He wanted to shove Jett away, but staring up into Jett's eyes, the odd, shadowed look he saw there, Joxer found himself unable to move.

"Joxer?" Jett's voice was very quiet. The ends of his bangs hung down, ghosting over Joxer's forehead.

"Huh?" Joxer was all managed to get out.

Jett leaned closer and Joxer was caught by how wide his pupils were. Jett's voice was little more than a whisper. "You're taking up the whole bed."

"I--what?" Joxer wasn't sure what he'd expected but that wasn't it.

Jett sat up. "I'll take the outside of the bed. You, over there." He jabbed two fingers towards the wall.

"Oh, right." Joxer didn't move though, just stared at Jett who raised an eyebrow.

"You moving or what?" Jett asked.

"You're sitting on my legs," Joxer pointed out, slowly pushing himself back up on his elbows.

Jett snorted, gave Joxer an amused look, then levered himself off to the side.

Joxer quickly shoved himself over towards the wall, lying on his side. It would be a very tight fit with two of them in this bed, but at least it would be warm if the fire died and the temperature really dropped.

The mattress dipped again as Jett sat down next to him. Scooting back towards the head of the bed, Jett snatched the pillow out from under Joxer's head and used it to prop himself up against the headboard.

"I thought we were supposed to be sleeping," Joxer pointed out, staring at the pillow as he contemplated the chances he'd have of yanking it back.

"Tell me something first," Jett said, stretching his legs out. "You know, since we're kind of on the subject of preferences."

"What?" Joxer asked warily.

"What's up with that blond of yours? You in love with her?"

Joxer shoved himself up on one elbow and gave Jett a close look. "Why?" Now he was downright suspicious.

Jett rolled his eyes. "I'm your brother; I can't care about your life?"

"Since when?" Joxer asked in disbelief.

"Hey, I always cared," Jett said, poking him in the chest with one finger.

"About family stuff, yeah," Joxer knocked his hand away. "You never asked who I was, um, dating."

"'Cause you haven't had a date in your life." Jett smirked.

Joxer pushed himself up, glaring at him. "I'll have you know I've got women falling all over me!"

"Yeah, and you pay them how much?" Jett's smirk widened at Joxer's indignant exclamation. "Nothing wrong with it, Joxer, but this one's different, isn't she."

"Gabrielle isn't a--a--" Joxer couldn't say that in word connection with her name. Jett didn't have that hang up.

"Whore? Nah, anyone can see that. She'd probably kick your balls into your throat if you suggested it." He chuckled, shaking his head. "You do have good taste, Joxer."

"You'd better not touch her," Joxer warned, really not liking the direction this was headed.

Jett gave him a steady look. "One: I'm not interested in her. Two: what've I told you about threatening me?"

Joxer didn't have a chance to say a word, Jett's hand shot out and grabbed his ear, twisting hard.

"Ahhh! Jett! Ow, ow, owowow! Let go!" Joxer tried to grab his hand, pry his fingers away but Jett slapped his hand away.

"Come here," Jett said, pulling him by his ear.

Joxer had no choice but to follow or lose the ear. Scrambling with knees and hands, he went where Jett pulled -- which ended up with him sprawled half over Jett's legs, his head in Jett's lap.

"There. Stay."

Jett let go and Joxer quickly slapped a hand over his ear. He rubbed at it, trying to soothe the ache, glaring at what he could see of Jett, his bare feet mostly. He didn't move away though, he knew better.

"So, you do love her." Jett's voice was quiet and Joxer couldn't read anything in his tone, which made him even more nervous.

"Yeah," he replied anyway, because it was the truth and he wasn't going to deny it just because Jett intimidated him.

"She doesn't feel the same way, does she?"

Joxer sighed, letting one hand spread out over Jett's leg, feeling the soft leather beneath his palm. "No," he finally answered, short, quiet and to the point.

Jett's sigh echoed his own. "It's not so bad, Joxer. Friends aren't cheap, you know. Good to have them, sometimes, or so I've heard. Not that I have any."

Joxer snorted softly, breath heating the leather by his face. "Not a surprise, Jett."

"Yeah." Jett's voice held just a touch of humor. "But I have you." He sighed again. "Love's something else, isn't it?" His fingers began carding through Joxer's hair.

"Yeah," Joxer had to agree, closing his eyes under the surprisingly comforting touch.

"Never thought much of it myself, but...sometimes I guess it just happens."

Joxer smiled slightly. "You're in love, Jett?" His tone was teasing because that wasn't something he'd ever associate with Jett.

Jett's answer was completely serious though. "Have been for a while, I guess. I don't know how long. I just woke up and, what d'you know? There it was." He chuckled but there was no amusement there.

"Oh." Joxer didn't know what else to say to that. Normally he'd congratulate someone, ask for some details if he knew them well enough, but with Jett? It was tempting to ask who he'd taken an interest in, if only so Joxer could offer the poor person his condolences, and maybe advice on the fastest way out of the country. He took the safest option, though, and gave Jett's thigh a light squeeze, an apology for the flippant way he'd asked the question. It seemed he'd made the right decision when Jett's hand covered his and gave an answering squeeze.

A change of subject seemed a good option about then. Joxer groped for one, and feeling the slight pressure of Apollo's amulet where it still rested beneath his shirt, metal warmed by his skin, he latched onto that. He still wasn't going to tell Jett everything about what he'd done, the idea he'd come up with, not when Jett had been such a pain about demanding to know before, but Joxer did want to tell him about the encounter with the strange priest. Jett would probably have some sarcastic comments about it and Joxer wanted the distraction.

"Do you still worship the gods?" he asked.

"Nah." Jett's hand slid away from his. "Well, not really. Definitely not Ares. I guess sometimes I give Thanatos a word or two, but beyond that, what's the point?"

"I don't know what to think," Joxer said. "I've seen the gods when they're being, you know, gods, and when they weren't any better than the rest of us, and now...I just don't know."

"Losing your faith because you saw too much. Yeah, it happens."

"Is that what happened with you?"

Joxer couldn't see the shrug but he knew it was there when Jett spoke. "What d'you expect? I've killed kings and peasants alike and if they have time -- which I don't usually give them, but sometimes there’s no way around it -- they all call out to the gods. Haven't seen a god answer yet. Makes you jaded, knowing that when it comes down to it, the gods don't really care."

Joxer nodded, leather rubbing against his cheek. "They do, but only about a few mortals."

"Selfish bastards, aren't they?"

He heard the chuckle in Jett's voice and smiled slightly in response. "Yeah."

"So what brought this up, huh? You never used to be so serious about religion."

"I'm not, really, it's just...before I came back here I kind of wandered into a room downstairs, and there were shrines. I started thinking about how it used to be, back when we were kids. You remember? How Dad would drag us to Ares' temple or pray with us every night at the shrine in the back of the house? I was thinking about that and--"

"Shrine," Jett interrupted, his tone thoughtful as he drew the word out. "That's it!" he said, his voice suddenly animated. He sat up straight, his stomach pushing against Joxer’s head, hand falling away from Joxer's hair.

"What?" Joxer frowned as he pushed himself up, one forearm on the bed, the other braced across Jett's thighs.

"Think about it, Joxer!" Jett grabbed him by the back of his shirt and yanked him the rest of the way up. He was grinning, an excited look devoid of his usual malice. Instead he looked close to laughing.

"About what?" Joxer shook off Jett's hand, or rather, Jett let him shake it off.

"You got me thinking about the statues in Ares temple, but those are just painted stone, you've actually seen him, right?"

"Who, Ares? Um, yeah, a few times." Joxer's frowned deepened. "Why?"

"Okay," Jett's hands came down on his shoulders, pulling him close, "follow me on this. Get a good picture of Ares in your head. Got it?"

"Wait a second." Joxer let his gaze fall to their closely pressed legs he worked through memories, trying to come up with an image of Ares. Then he had it, the image of the moment when Ares had regained his godhood after Joxer had helped him get his sword back. Well, Xena had helped too, but Joxer had definitely been an integral part of it. "Okay," he said with a nod, looking back up.

"Good. Now, imagine his hair a different color, reddish. With me so far?"

Joxer nodded slowly as he worked on changing the image held in his mind, letting red creep over Ares' black curls.

"Okay, have that?" When Joxer nodded again he went on. "Here's the important part; get rid of the facial hair, all of it."

It was...odd, doing that. He had real trouble picturing Ares without that beard and mustache, it made him more dangerous looking. Without it....

"Now tell me who you're looking at, Joxer." Jett's tone had turned positively gleeful.

Joxer gasped, struck all at once by what had, quite literally once or twice that day been right in front of his face. "Iphicles!"

"Exactly!" Jett laughed and Joxer couldn't help but join in, amazed at what should've been so obvious, but seemed so weird at the same time.

"I thought I'd seen him before!" he said, grinning widely.

"Yeah, I never forget a face, even on a statue." Jett grinned back, then dropped his hands. "What's up with that family, huh? Are all the kids sons of gods?"

"I think it's just Hercules and his brother, I mean, they're Alcmene's only sons," Joxer said. "And I thought Iphicles' father was mortal."

"Looks more like Alcmene was working her way through the Pantheon." Jett chuckled.

"Jett! From what I hear, she's a very nice lady!" Joxer protested. Maybe he'd never met her, but he had run into Hercules a couple times -- once literally -- and besides, defending him and his family was the right thing to do.

"Never said she wasn't, in fact, she sounds pretty...friendly." Jett's grin quickly became a smirk.

Joxer knew Jett was provoking him but sometimes, like now, he just couldn't stop himself from responding. "You don't even know her! You--" Jett shoved him in the chest, pushing him back onto the bed. Joxer's injured shoulder hit the wall and he winced.

"You are so easy to wind up." Jett leaned over him, still smirking. "You'd probably end up trying to fight me over the reputation of a woman you don't even know. And don't try telling me you know her, or Hercules."

"I do to know Hercules! Well, I did meet him. I did!" he insisted at Jett's disbelieving look.

Jett laughed. "Sure you did, Joxer." Then he ruffled Joxer's hair.

"Hey, stop it!" Joxer didn't have room to pull away so he tried pushing Jett's hand away. That got him another laugh and a sharp yank of his hair, then Jett let go.

"Scoot over," Jett said, giving his shoulder a light shove.

To do that Joxer had to turn on his side. He put his back to Jett, facing the wall, a silent comment on Jett's attitude. Not that it had any effect on Jett, he just chuckled and yanked the covers out from under him.

"Here." The pillow dropped over Joxer's face. He grabbed it and shoved it under his head, maintaining a sullen silence.

"Quit sulking," Jett said, amusement still thick in his tone.

"Knock it off!" Joxer smacked at the finger that flicked his ear.

Jett snickered. Then he was pressing against Joxer, lengthwise from head to feet and Joxer suddenly felt pinned in. He started to drive his elbow back, hoping to catch Jett in the chest, but Jett's hand clamped around his wrist before he moved more than an inch.

"It's a tiny bed and one pillow; learn to share, Joxer," Jett said quietly, breath warm in his ear.

Joxer muttered under his breath but said nothing out loud. When the covers settled over him, Joxer grabbed an edge and hauled it up near his neck, pulling it tight. That didn't stop Jett from sliding a leg over him, pinning his legs down, or slipping an arm around his waist.

Pushing him away seemed like a great idea for all of five seconds, then Joxer had to admit that yeah, it was warm like this and it was true that the bed probably wouldn't hold the both of them any other way. Instead of griping more about it, which likely would've just gotten him another ear twist from Jett and an order to shut up, Joxer sighed in resignation and tried to relax.

Relax. Yeah, that was a joke. With Jett right there ready to do gods knew what at any time? Joxer doubted he'd get any sleep at all that night.

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