That One in a Billion
by Lexxie
DISCLAIMERS: The characters of X:WP most certainly do not belong to me. If they did, oh, the things I would do... Anyway, I'm not making any money from this, so please don't sue me.
SEX/VIOLENCE/LANGUAGE: Implied/minimal/oh hell yeah. Rated R.
COMBO: This is a Xena/Ares, Gabby/Joxer fic. You have been warned.
TIMELINE: Uber alert! Takes place in present-day Los Angeles, but the story itself was written immediately after watching COMING HOME, the sixth season premiere. We'll just say it's an AU, ok? Creative license — go with it.
SUMMARY: Old acquaintances meet again...only some of them don't know it yet.
FEEDBACK: Any and all comments are appreciated. E-mail me at mistiblu02@hotmail.com.
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Until the rivers cease to flow,
Until the winds refuse to blow,
Until the moon drowns in the night,
Until the stars fade from my sight,
Until the sun sleeps in the sea,
Until the breath departs from me,
Until this bond with you dissever,
I'll wait for you, my love, forever.
CHAPTER ONE - VISITATIONS
It was a dark and stormy night in Mount Olympus.
Aphrodite stared sullenly at the pounding rain outside the window, a pout drawing her perfect features down. She watched helplessly as the dozens of pink roses in the garden, carefully arranged in a heart-shaped pattern, bent with the force of the pelting storm, mud pooling around their tiny stems. She sighed.
"This is so *yuck*!"
Her fingers twitched and she huffed impatiently. If she still had her powers, she could just zap those nasty storm clouds away with a lift of a dainty pinkie. But the blonde knew it would be pointless, even pathetic, to try. Her glory days had passed a lifetime ago. Literally.
Because now there are no gods. And this is not Mount Olympus. Not the Mount Olympus of the Ancient Greeks, anyway. Not the fabled abode of Zeus and his children, the spectacular castle in the sky with its graceful columns embraced with ivy, it's pristine white marble, it's statuesque inhabitants. The decadence of an age forgotten, the magic of a time lost amongst the millennia...all gone.
Instead, welcome to the New World Order. This is Mount Olympus, Los Angeles, a posh Hollywood community of fancy houses, gleaming cars, and Givenchi-bedecked deities. Who needed sizzling fireballs when a few thick wads of cash could buy you all the mindless worship you could ever want? Slick corporate raiders and high-tech bigwigs ruled the land now. They raped and pillaged and sacked behind their mahogany desks, schemed and strategized in their elegant, carpeted conference rooms.
But no self-sacrificing heroes here — everyone and their agents knew that no one really wanted to be saved.
It was a seedy and frightening new world, but Aphrodite had made it. It had been rough, but she had survived the revolution from majestic temples to sleek high-rises. She had made a life here, in this tenuous time of quick-fixes and fake facades. True, it was not the sweetly simple life that she was used to, that she still missed, but it was a comfortable life just the same. Second chances were hard to come by, and she still carried too many scars from watching most of her family fall needlessly to throw this one away.
She * would* make it, along with her son and her brother. She'd make sure they all deserved this.
"Crap," a low voice behind her now said. A muscular figure joined her at the window, frowning handsomely at the dark rain outside. "And we just washed the cars this morning."
"Oh, forget that," she sighed. "I just had those little babies planted two weeks ago, and now they're ruined!" she said pitifully, tilting her chin to indicate the sodden mass of roses outside, some of which had been uprooted by the water and now floated in the wet dirt like drowning victims.
Ares stared at his sister. "Why are you so upset about it? Jenkins was the one who nearly broke his back trying to get them all lined up in the ground like you told him to." He shook his head, smirking darkly. "Old fart couldn't straighten his back for two days."
"Don't say that," Aphrodite hissed, her eyes looking furtively around the gloomy parlor to see if the butler in question was within hearing range. "You know how sensitive he is. What with the hernia, and all...."
Ares just shrugged and moved away from the window to sit in front of the massive black grand piano. Flexing his long fingers, he moved his hands over the ivory with smooth ease. The soft, lilting notes soon mingled with the steady hum of the rain outside.
Aphrodite settled herself in a thickly padded chair, suddenly weary. "Where's Cupie?"
"In his room," her brother replied, not lifting his eyes from the keys. "Probably writing another poem to that Polly what's-her-name."
Aphrodite smiled fondly at the thought of her son. "How sweet...he's so crazy about her."
Ares snorted. "Yeah, sweet," he scoffed. "That's — let's see — the third girl he's 'fallen in love with' this month. Right after sweet little Debbie and busty Barbara."
She frowned at him. "That is so not true," she protested.
Ares shook his head, but his concentration was set on the melancholy melody pouring from his fingers. "Is that right? He changes women like he changes socks. Really, Sis, that kid of yours is a slut."
Out of nowhere, an overstuffed seat cushion hurtled through the air to strike him on the side of his head. The impact caused his fingers to slip clumsily over the piano keys, filling the dark room with a discordant cacophony. "Hey!"
Aphrodite sprang to her feet, her defiant, alabaster face twisted in fury. "You! You are such a — a...." she spluttered, searching for the word.
Ares stood challengingly, arms crossed. "What? I'm a what?" he egged on, chin raised.
"A — a cynical, pessimistic, self-serving, egotistical..." Frustrated, she delicately stamped her feet. "... meanie!"
Ares rolled his eyes. "Oooh. That hurt." With a final smirk at his sister, he turned and swaggered toward the parlor door. But Aphrodite, feisty thing that she was, was not going to let him off that easily. There was only so much attitude she could take, and she'd already had to take two thousand years of it.
With a speed that Ares didn't think possible for a woman wearing stiletto heels, the blonde intercepted his exit. Crossing her arms, she glared at her brother icily. "You know what your problem is?" she asked prissily.
Ares cocked his brow. "Well, let's see. I'm a man in perpetual physical prime living in the most exciting city this side of the Styx, but who is stuck living with his featherbrained ditz of a sister and her moony brat for an eternity all because those great bastards who're pulling the strings up there won't let me die." He looked at her speculatively. "Does that answer it?"
Aphrodite's eyes narrowed to blue slits. "Please," she sniffed. "Don't waste your attitude on me, Bro. It's totally pointless. I can see right through you."
Ares quirked an eyebrow challengingly. "Oh, really?"
"Hey! Don't let the blonde hair fool ya. I know what you're pissing about, and it ain't the extended life expectancy either." Aphrodite marched up to Ares and stabbed a defiant finger against his burly chest. "No, see...your problem is you're too busy feeling sorry for your own damn self that you can't see all the second chances you've been given." Aphrodite nodded knowingly as a confident expression made its way over her face.
Ares appeared nonplussed by her analysis and only said snidely, "Quoting Oprah again, Sis?" He shook his head, dismissing her words as empty air. "You wanna know what's bothering me, do you?" His voice lowered and he glared at his sister, his dark eyes empty and unreadable. "Boredom, 'Dite. That's what's pissing the hell outta me. I've got lifetimes behind and before me, and I've got nothing to do with 'em. Oh, yeah, the immortality thing might've been fun once...like, during the first two millenia, but after a while, it gets tiring, ya know? Now, it's just like being dead...minus the amenities." He paused and cocked his head at her, mocking her. "Oh, I know you don't get that — you with your church fundraisers and Tupperware parties and big-shot buddies — but trust me. All this living gets a guy down."
His sister just shook her head, unmoved and unconvinced. "Oh, don't give me that 'Poor Me' speech again," she chided mockingly. "You *dig* the immortality thing, Ar, and you know it. It gives you an excuse to sit around on your derriere all day and think about what you've lost." She paused and looking into his stormy brown eyes, said pointedly, "What you can never have again."
Ares snorted. "Funny, you almost sound as if you actually believe what you're saying..."
"Oh, but I do," Aphrodite answered, her tone serious. "Denial, hon. Look it up, 'cuz you've got, like, the biggest case of it *ever*."
Ares frowned warningly at the familiar turn of the conversation, even as something inside of him wondered if the willowy blonde before him was right.
"There's no point waiting for something that's never gonna come," Aphrodite continued practically.
"In the first place, we agreed never to bring up this topic again," he ground out. "Secondly," the first hints of emotion glimmered behind his eyes, "you can believe whatever you want to, Aphrodite. But I've never given up on her, and she's never let me down," he finished gruffly as a bittersweet wave flooded through him.
Aphrodite looked pained and put a delicate hand on his muscled arm. "She's gone, Ar," she said softly. "She's been gone for over two thousand years. Get over it."
He jerked her hand off his shoulder as if stung, and shook a finger at her face. "You're wrong," he said almost desperately, his eyes alive with sudden feeling. "She'll be back again someday. And I'll find her." With that, he marched past her and made his way up the carpeted stairs. Aphrodite cringed as his heavy footfalls reverberated through the walls. She heard a loud slam from the second floor, and then silence.
Aphrodite closed her eyes wearily and leaned against the wall. Her thoughts followed Ares, wondering at her brother, that big hulking baby whose blind hope seemed such a contrast to his sulky nature. 'Oh, Bro,' she thought wistfully. 'Why do you do this to yourself?'
The soft sounds of approaching feet caused her to open her eyes. "Madame," a clipped voice beside her spoke.
She turned her tired eyes on a gray haired man. "Hi, Jenkins."
"If you will permit my asking, Madame, will Master Ares be all right?" the butler asked in his light British accent.
Aphrodite shook her head, as if dismissing it, though inside she wondered the same thing. "Yeah, don't worry about it. He just has to break a few things, take it out on the bricabrac, and then he'll be okay."
"Yes, well," Jenkins coughed. 'Break a few things, eh? And who, I wonder, will have to clean that up?' Aloud, he continued, "If that will be all, Madame, then I bid you good night."
The blonde winked at him. "Sure thing, babe." With a final bow, Jenkins went up the shadowed stairs.
Alone in the parlor, Aphrodite walked over to the window. The rain still pelted down to the ground mercilessly, roaring dully. A bright flash of lightning illuminated her ruined rose garden, now a watery grave for her pink blooms. She sighed again and shook her head. 'Rain...ugh. Totally not cool.'
With a final pout, she drew the curtains closed to the tempest outside, and the one-time Goddess of Love wrapped her arms around herself against the chill and made her way into her room upstairs.
**********
It was two o'clock in the morning when Jenkins heard the pounding at the front door.
He sleepily dismissed it at first, taking it for yet another rumble of thunder. But the pounding continued relentlessly, and was soon followed by muffled yells of "Anyone home?"
'Oh, bloody hell,' Jenkins thought grumpily through his drowzy haze as he swung his feet over the side of the bed. 'Who's mad enough to be making house calls at this hour, in this weather?'
"Is anyone in there?" the voice called again. More pounding. "Hello?"
"I'm coming, blast it all, I'm coming!" Jenkins muttered as he squinted through the darkness. "Where are those glasses...ah, there." Donning his spectacles and his robe, the man stumbled through his door and down the staircase.
Meanwhile, the late night visitor continued to knock with even more vigor. "Can anyone hear me? Please?"
"All right, all right!" Jenkins fairly growled. Muttering a few choice curses beneath his breath, he finally reached the heavy oak doors and flung them open. His scowl soon turned into look of concern when he saw the pale, drenched figure standing there.
"Child, what *are* you doing out here at this hour?" he impulsively asked the petite blonde smiling ruefully at him from beneath her plastered bangs.
She smiled uncertainly. "Um, sorry about waking you, but I was wondering if I could use your phone. Our car just decided to give out on us, and I think we'll need a tow truck for it."
"We?"
"Oh, yeah." She pointed behind her, where an old Honda sat in front of their driveway. Through the curtain of the pouring rain, Jenkins could just make out a dark figure sitting in the driver's seat. "My friend and I are on our way home from work."
"Oh, well," he coughed. "Of course, you may use our phone. Come in...er, miss. And your friend, too," he added, glancing at the car. "I'll fix you both something warm while you wait for the tow truck."
"Oh, we don't want to be a bother —"
Jenkins shook his head and motioned the girl in. "No, no bother. Come on in now."
Green eyes brightened. "Oh, thank you so much." Swiveling her head around, she waved to her companion in the Honda. "Come on, Lucia," she called. Turning back to Jenkins, she pumped his hand enthusiastically in her small grip. "My name's Gracie, by the way. What's your name?"
"Jenkins," he said, bowing slightly.
"Thank you again, Mr. Jenkins."
"Erm, no. Not Mister. Just Jenkins."
"Oh. How...quaint. Well thank you, Jenkins," Gracie said, unconsciously copying the butler's light accent.
Jenkins smiled as he ushered her in. 'Ah, Jenkins, you old codger. You're a soft one for pretty eyes,' he thought to himself, amused. He turned his attention to the other woman, who had gotten out of the stalled car and was now standing by the doorway. "And you would be...." he began, but his words died in his throat as he saw her face.
High cheekbones, glossy midnight hair, and eyes as piercing and blue as any he had ever seen. 'Down, old boy,' he warned himself. 'She's young enough to be your daughter.' "Erm...." he gurgled out, his unflappable mien now dashed to pieces as he beheld this beauty.
The woman smiled slightly, and took his hand in a firm handshake. "Lucia," she drawled by way of introduction. "Thanks for letting us in." Her low voice rolled past her lips like honey.
A broad smile graced Jenkins' wrinkled face. "No, no problem at all, miss." ' Oh, what a match she would be for Master Ares,' the kindly old man thought as he imagined Ares' brooding figure. 'Wait now...I might just have something there, eh?' But before he could explore his idea further, he remembered the present situation. Snapping back to his senses, he bowed to the two women. "Beg your pardon," he coughed. "Follow me, ladies."
**********
Upstairs, in the company of darkness, he dreamed...
...trees, the smell of pine and earth and grass and blue sky...WAR...dirt, blood, swords and armor stained with crimson...bodies falling, arms flailing, thewind whirling gore around their feet...and she had fallen, fallen into his helpless arms, and everyone was screaming and yelling, and the warmth of her fading life had pooled around their huddled bodies, and there was nothing left but whispered, hopeless words, and he clutched blindly at her, not letting her go, not wanting her to leave without him, and the words left his lips but it didn't matter now, because nothing else did, because her eyes were fading, and she was going to go away and never come back, leave him there, a rock in an angry ocean, when he wanted nothing more than to follow her, above and away...
"Ares...."
His eyelids flew open and he jerked awake with a hoarse gasp. He glanced around his darkened room, at the shadows closing around him with their familiar coldness. Outside, a bright crash of lightning ripped through the night sky.
'A dream,' he thought vaguely as he settled back into his bed. 'It's always a dream.'
He grunted at himself. "What the hell am I doing?" he muttered to his ceiling. "I was a god. Gods do not dream of — of...." 'Of beautiful blue-eyed warriors who spurn you and reject you and piss you off and make you feel whole and alive.'
He shook his head at the unfairness of it all. Oh, how he missed her, his dark mortal angel. She had brightened his bleak existence once, but somewhere along the line he screwed up. His arrogance and pride had pushed her away, had turned her smiles into derisive glares. He had wanted to control her, to make her need him, and it had been too late when he realized that it was he who needed her.
And so he lost her, but with a sardonic twinge, he realized that he never had her to begin with.
His throat tightened as an old, familiar regret washed over him. "I just can't shake you, love," he murmured, as if she was there with him, lying in his arms, in his bed. "No matter what I do, I just can't shake you."
With a final defeated sigh, he rolled over on his muscled stomach and closed his eyes, determined to have a dreamless night, just this once.
He hadn't closed his eyes for more than five minutes when he heard the low murmur of a voice wafting into his room. It was quiet and faint, but he could still hear it — that melodic, husky lilt that thrilled his blood and stirred his soul. *Her voice....*
His breath caught in his throat as he listened. He kept his eyes closed, afraid to move as if he'd shatter the illusion, but he felt his heart quicken, and for one insane moment, he thought that his dreams had come true.
But the rational part of him quickly tempered his joy. 'You're dreaming, hearing things,' he told himself morosely.
But better to dream of beautiful things now gone than to open your eyes to the darkness waiting for you. If he opened his eyes, she'd go away again and be lost in the air like the fading notes to a song.
But how real she sounded, as if she had heard his silent agony and decided to return to him. He'd swear he could hear her talking, laughing, and he could almost believe that she was there with him, in this very house. But he didn't dare open his eyes. Instead he let the welcome murmur lull him to sleep as it has done in all his thousands of cold, empty nights.
'Xena...'
**********
Downstairs, Lucia chuckled softly as Jenkins and Gracie traded work-related anecdotes over their mugs of hot cocoa. Gracie had just gotten off the phone with the local tow service and now sat beside her friend, listening as Jenkins told them about Cupid's latest romantic fiasco.
"They actually want to get married in Vegas?" Gracie asked in mild disbelief.
"Yes, yes, I know," Jenkins nodded. "I was flabbergasted when he told me. He swore me to secrecy, of course, and I haven't yet told his mum, though I just know she'll be stark raving mad when she does find out."
Gracie smiled, a dreamy look in her green eyes. "Oh, I don't know. It sounds so romantic. But I guess with a name like Cupid, it all makes sense."
"Well, yes, I suppose so. Yes, now that I think of it, it's odd name, that. I've been told that their mother was a very *fascinating* woman. Was very engrossed in ancient history, and all that...."
Lucia swallowed another sip of the warm drink, closing her eyes and letting the gentle heat soothe the chill inside her. Behind the chatter of voices, she could hear the low rumble of the rain.
Opening her eyes, she slowly surveyed the parlor in which they sat, taking in the dark paneling, heavy damask curtains, and formal furniture. Everything was stately and dignified, as if someone had taken a museum exhibit and planted it here in the Hollywood hills. The whole mansion — at least what she's seen of it — practically screamed money and fine breeding.
And here she sat, dripping on all their nice upholstery. She felt a little like an intruder, though she knew she was being ridiculous. Still, she was glad that it was the butler who answered the door, and not the owners, or else she and Gracie would've been made to wait out in the pouring rain.
"And what do you do?" Jenkins voice cut through her thoughts and with a start, Lucia realized the question was directed to her.
"Well, I sing," she said vaguely.
"Sing? You're a performer?" Jenkins asked, intrigued.
Gracie smiled. "Well, you can say that. Lucia works in the same club that I do. She sings, I'm a waitress."
Jenkins's eyebrows rose. "Oh, I see."
"We both work at Frankie's. On Pico Street," Gracie supplied.
"Pico, Frankie's on Pico," Jenkins repeated. "No, I don't believe I've ever heard of that particular restaurant. Though Miss Aphrodite might know where that is. She's very fond of dining out."
Gracie and Lucia exchanged glances. "Um...no, I don't think she'd dine out * there*," Lucia said with a sideways smirk.
"I beg your pardon?"
Gracie hastily explained. "Lucia's right, it's not a very...um, *trendy* place to eat."
Jenkins raised a questioning eyebrow at her sudden discomfort. "Oh, no?"
Lucia leaned forward, and said, "What Gracie means to say is that people with money wouldn't eat at a place like Frankie's."
Jenkins was a little put off by her bluntness. 'Oh, Master Ares would just love her,' his mind said wryly.
Gracie laughed nervously, shooting a sideways glance at her friend. "Well, so," she stammered. "So what do the people who live here do?" she asked abruptly, wishing to change the topic before Lucia managed to alienate Jenkins. "Whatever it is, they must be very successful at it," she added, looking appreciatively at her surroundings. "This is a beautiful house."
Jenkins smiled with pride. "Yes, the Montagne family is very wealthy, indeed. They've made some very shrewd investments over the years. Stocks and all that...I really don't claim to understand the finer points of it all, just that they've made it quite well for themselves."
"We can see," Lucia murmured, her eyes again appraising the room. Suddenly, a brilliant streak of lightning crashed down, and a portrait hanging in a previously shadowed corner was illuminated, catching her eye. For an instant, she could make out a strong masculine face, beautiful though stern and somber. The sudden flash of light seemed to make the face come alive, and deep brown eyes seemed to lance through her. In a second, though, the room was once again dim, and the portrait melted into the shadows.
At that point, the three heard a short succession of honks outside. Peering out the window, Gracie announced, "There's the tow truck."
"About time," Lucia muttered. Standing, she nodded at Jenkins, flashing a brief smile. "Sorry if we've been an inconvenience. We'll be going now."
"Oh, don't worry, miss, it's not often an old man such as I gets to chat by moonlight to two very beautiful ladies."
Gracie blushed becomingly and smiled. "Thank you."
Jenkins escorted the two to the front door, and watched through the window as they boarded the tow truck and left, their little Honda trailing meekly behind them.
"Jenkins?" a soft voice behind him spoke, causing him to jump.
Spinning around, he saw Aphrodite, clad in a satin pink robe. "Ah, Madame. You startled me," he said.
She turned her eyes to the window, seeing the fading lights of the tow truck make it's way down the street. "Who were those?"
Jenkins hesitated a little, wondering what Aphrodite's response would be to his entertaining two complete strangers in her house in the middle of the night. "Those two ladies had a little car trouble, and asked if they could use our phone. I let them in, gave them some hot cocoa...I didn't think you'd mind, Madame, I —"
Aphrodite rolled her eyes, and waved a hand at him. "Oh, please, Jenkie. What, do I look like a total hagster?" Teasingly, she shot a challenging look at Jenkins. "Of course I don't mind. Now Ares...just be glad *he* didn't answer the door. He would've been pissed as hell."
Jenkins smiled. "You would've liked to talk to them, Madame. They were quite charming."
"Oh, I don't think so," she replied. "You're way better at listening than me. I would've just yapped their ears off." She considered a moment. "What were their names?"
"I only caught their first names, Madame. Gracie and Lucia."
"They're from around here?"
"I'm not quite sure, but they did say that they worked in a restaurant in...er, Pico Street, I believe."
Aphrodite wrinkled her nose. "Oh. No, definitely not from around here."
His employer's expression made Jenkins feel as if he had to come to their defense. "They were quite nice," he volunteered rather lamely.
"Oh, yeah, absolutely," Aphrodite nodded furiously. "I didn't say they were little tramps, or anything." She looked out at the window again. The tow truck had long since rounded the rain slick corner, and it was dark again outside. "I was just wondering what they're doing so far from home."