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Forgive My Trnsgressions

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“Tell me,” Callisto would say, that eager grin firm in place. They are standing at the edge of a town, any town. Burned town. She doesn’t see the bodies. She doesn’t need to see them to know they are there. “Do you like my gift?”


And Xena wakes up.


“Hello, there,” Callisto whispers, her eyes wide and gleeful. The edge of her sword drips red onto the chest of an unarmed man. “You are mine now.”

But she isn’t talking to the nameless man.


And Xena wakes up.


”It’s all for you,” Callisto screams, making a careful circle around her. “Because of you.”

They are fighting across a barren field, bones and ashes at their feet.

“Do you understand it, Xena?”

Callisto falls beneath her; a sword, cold and sharp, wedges between them.

Through them.

“It’s always been you.”


”Why are you crying this time?” Gabrielle asks, peering at her with worried eyes.

Xena blinks away the last of her dream. Feels the stray wetness on her cheek.


“I don’t know.”


Callisto pouts. ”Do you remember me?”

Xena watches the flames rise to the sky, hears the screams from under the wreckage. “I would like to forget.”

“But you remember.” The pout becomes a satisfied smile, a sing-sing voice among the sounds of the dying. “Don’t you?”


“I do.”

Gabrielle turns to her side, her eyes dull and sleepy. “Huh?”


“What’s wrong, Xena?”

This time, she lies. “I don’t know.”


The End