Notes: I do not own the TV series that is Xena: Warrior Princess and do not intend to violate or offend Renaissance, Studios USA and others by writing this story. This ficlet is only for fun!

Catherine had asked, with her trendy trench coat on, her Bottega bag hanging on her shoulder, clearly ready to leave, but babbling on, as if the day didn't seem long enough. I shrugged it off, and she left my office. That was that. But the question made me think. Did I believe in fate? And the word lingered in my mind. Fate was bullshit. For one thing, the Fates were long gone now. It was just a word, like any other. But…if I believed fate was on my side, she probably would have been here, with me. Fate wouldn't take so damn long to send her back among the living, and destiny would have her bumping into me on the streets, have her in the same city as me, at least in the same country. But maybe that would make me a terribly lucky guy, and maybe this was a joke played by the mighty Fates to live out her 'one in a billion' theory that stayed lodged in my mind, like a bullet.

And as I got into my car, my mind stumbled into some random or related theme, in which I obviously knew was a waste of time, but couldn't help myself. Humans, they often say there's too little time for thinking, but I've had thousands and thousands of years to spare. Another few minutes couldn't hurt.

Clearly, destiny and fate both have turned their non existent backs on me, because she died. Perhaps as a god of war, I should have been accustomed to that part of life, if anything else. But I couldn't let it go; and eventually, time tried to erase it, but instead left a smudgy permanent mess. To believe, you have to accept as real. I couldn't believe her death. I really believed we were meant to be together. Of course, everyone else, including her, regarded this as a ploy to get her back again so I could have the perfect warrior to lead on my supposed cause—which would have been nice—to conquer what we knew as the whole world then. Maybe, as old as I was back then, I was still immature. Young enough to think she was foolish to take the 'good path', juvenile enough to try and try again, knowing it possibly couldn't work. Instead, I fell deeper into her, and I couldn't get out, but I liked it that way. Maybe, if I was wise and knew better, I would have let it go, and save myself the grief of losing her in the end. Not that it matters now.

Dying, she was still beautiful and I was in awe, because, I didn't believe it was happening. The world closed on her crystal blue eyes that had me trapped, but couldn't release me. Not even now.

In an effort to get the images out of my head, I light a cigarette, accelerate out of the underground parking lot, and New York greets me.

I arrive at my building, and the doorman greets me like he does everyday. Repetition greets me when I wake up. Everything is expected. What I don't expect is Xena to show up. Stepping in the spotless and empty elevator, I ascend, watching the sparkling city grow smaller, and at the same time, bigger.

It's fucked up, because I miss her, and miss her more. If I could go back in time (like the wishes of so many people), I know I would be happy to just watch her. I know I took her for granted. Feeling a smirk crawl on face, I wonder. Would she laugh at me, like I do, seeing how pathetic and low I've become? I let myself become so soft, succumb to the longing for her, and let myself feel the ache in my heart. I became a little bit human. But I refuse to accept this fully.

I unlock the door, and the dark engulfs me into my apartment, or rather, a penthouse. I slump into the black sofa, and gaze out the balcony. It's funny how money goes around these days, and I probably should thank my father for his who-knows-where-it-comes-from-funding. It's also funny how we, the once powerful Olympians have managed to survive on like cockroaches, watching civilizations rise and fall with era after era. I used to not care, not do anything. But wars still raged on, as if it were a necessity for the people. I would say that they've made it a necessity. Wars are investments for some people.

I think I lied. There have been Xenas before. At least, there were some that looked like her. There was only one that I was definite about. But like I said, fate was bullshitting me and the right one didn't last long…I guess those were the best offers the world could make. Just look-alike dolls, haunting me with the hollow stares, and when I encountered the only right one—those piercing eyes—they had to snatch her away. I remember every one of them. The slave girl in India, the daughter of a Mayan tribe leader, the rich comptesse in Hungary… But it doesn't matter. Memories are temporary relief;a band-aid. But I want the cure. Xena.

I light another cigarette, and as I inhale the disease, I close my eyes. I think I can see her blue eyes again. And I drown.

A/N: I uploaded this story a few days ago, but I wanted to post it under a different penname and change the profile. I was a moron and dind't know how to. So I deleted the story and made a new ID :) So stupid of me. And now here I am again posting tihs yet again.
Big thank yous to the two people (Sea Fire, Angelares) who left me reviews and I am so sorry that I had to delete the story.
I actually don't know where I'm gonna go with this story; which is pretty dumb. I have a vague idea, which is : Xena and Ares meet again and they ensue in hot lurve! ...I'm going to try to write something decent. And something with a plot.