She rose up from the straw like a demon from the ashes, ripping her chained hands loose from the leather belt and striking away the guard's hand and the baton he'd prodded her with, "SOLAN!" she screamed, not recognising the faces of the men who surrounded her, she lashed out in a frenzy of unleashed strength.

Ignoring the restriction of the chains she smashed double fisted punches into any part of her tormentor's anatomy that came into reach. Four men were quickly down and disabled. Two had broken jaws, one was curled into a fetal ball clutching his groin and making small whimpering noises. The fourth had been flung into the stone wall of the cell with such force, he'd collapsed in a boneless heap.

Her awareness didn't register the sudden activity outside in the guard room, her manic induced rage had her gripped in a frenzy that forced her to lash out in her anguish and pain. She brought her manacled hands around in a two handed gut punch that doubled her next victim over, then delivered a stunning blow to the back of his exposed head, the sixth member of the guard who had entered her cell was incautious enough to drift within her reach. She wrapped her chains around his neck and began to draw the chain tight, squeezing the life out of him with the increasing pressure.

A flood of men hit her like a tidal wave as they crashed through the cell door as soon as it swung open. She was borne to the ground along with the man she continued to strangle, under the piled bodies of twenty guards. She thrashed and heaved and bucked in wild abandonment as she threw all her strength, all her might, into fighting off the faceless men who had invaded her dreams and sought to bring her down.

With a burst of unbelievable, violent, power, she threw her attackers off as if they were made of straw, struggling to stand before they piled themselves upon her again and bore her down to the ground, "Somebody bring some chains in here," yelled a decurion, as they struggled to contain the thrashing madwoman.

Within moments, two guards scurried into the cell. It was difficult, but they managed to get the thick chain attached to her collar and another wrapped around her arms and body and a third wrapped and locked around her legs, "Okay, now lock that leash to that ring in the wall and get everybody out of here," ordered the decurion, breathing hard. As soon as the chain was locked in place, the soldiers released the Warrior Princess, who continued to strain and jerk against the restraints that held her, before collecting their fallen comrades and clearing out of the cell, making sure that the door was locked firmly behind them.

The young decurion, Junius, looked in at the tormented slave, "Quintus, see if you can find the healer, Patroclese," he ordered, "Marcellus, round up Cornelius and see what he can do for our injured."

- Damn, - Junius thought moodily, - Why did this have to happen when the senior officers are all with the commander, - he watched in concern as the woman's frenetic struggles gradually subsided and she drew herself into as much of a curled ball as she could manage. Junius saw her big frame begin to shake and he thought that maybe she was crying.

He stood observing the slave and wondered what had caused such a violent outburst. He was lost in reverie as a hand touched his arm and the healer's voice asked, "What happened here?"

"Damned if I know," answered Junius running a hand through his hair in frustration. "When we put her in there, she collapsed on that straw and fell almost instantly asleep as we'd been told to expect. A little while ago she started thrashing around and then began shouting out ... no screaming out a word over and over."

"What word?" demanded Patroclese intently.

"Solan, I think" he glanced at some of his men to get confirmation, "Yeah, that was it, Solan, over and over. I sent the six in there to wake her up, but when Cadmius touched her she just seemed to spring at him totally wild like," he shook his head in disbelief at how quickly and easily she had overcome six strong men, "I got a look in her eyes, an' I'm tellin' you, there weren't no one home. It was really scary."

Patroclese listened carefully, all the while watching Xena as her body shook as it lay in the straw. - Solan was her son, - he knew. He remembered from the Amazon trial. "You say she fell into a deep sleep?" he questioned again. "Yeah, must have been that exhaustion, you know, 'cause in all the time we've had her, I've never see her take more than a light doze." answered Junius.

"Alright, open the door and let me in there," Patroclese told him.

"You gotta be kidding," the decurion answered incredulously. "It took twenty of us just to hold her down and get her wrapped in those chains, and she nearly shook us all off, even then."

"It'll be alright," promised Patroclese, "She seems to be over the worst of it. I'll take the responsibility."

"Well," Junius said uncertainly, and hesitated over unlocking the door.

"I'll be fine decurion. But if you're really worried, have a double squad stand by," Patroclese suggested.

Still troubled, Junius opened the cell door and allowed the healer in before swinging it quickly shut and locking it. Patroclese stood inside and paused as he took a deep breath. He was likely to be in trouble if the Warrior Princess hadn't regained her senses, but he felt fairly confident that whatever madness had gripped her had run it's course.

He approached her carefully, talking softly so he didn't come on her by surprise. He saw her stiffen, and work to control the silent wracking sobs that had been shaking her, as he came closer, "It's alright, Xena," he told her soothingly, "everything's going to be fine." He knelt cautiously beside her and slowly reached out a hand towards her, stopping as she jerked away, "C'mon, Xena," he almost crooned, "it's only me, I'm not going to hurt you."

Once again he reached towards her, noticing the involuntary flinch her body gave as he gently brushed the curtain of hair away from her eyes and revealed a window into a soul damned to be tortured for eternity. He almost cried out at the anguish and suffering that he saw there, before the heavy shutters came up and the icy blue gaze he was familiar with returned. Moving carefully, he helped her to sit up, noting that the chains, the guards had used to stop her thrashing, had dug deeply into her flesh and that her neck had been badly chafed by fighting against the restraint of the collar, "What, in the name of the God's, have you been doing to yourself?" he said softly.

She didn't reply, and he could see a slightly wild, hunted, look in the corner of her eyes. He examined her quickly, but carefully, helped by his accumulated knowledge of the woman's body gained through hours of patching up the damage inflicted upon it, "Nothing too serious," he smiled reassuringly, still keeping his tone soft. "A few more bruises and scrapes, nothing that a little salve won't fix up." He noted the broken leather belt restraint, - Gods, but she must have exerted some strength to break that, - he thought.

He watched her carefully as she drew in a long shuddering breath, "Do you want to tell me about it?" he asked gently.

She shook her head, - How can I possibly tell him about Callisto and what she was doing with my son? - she thought miserably. - How can I explain about the blood on my hands and the guilt that overwhelms me every time I sleep? - "No, Patroclese. I don't want to tell you," she said in a rasping voice that mocked her normally silky tones, "and you wouldn't really want to know."

"If I get those chains off of you, are you going to do something stupid?" he asked with a smile, knowing that whatever demons the dreams had raised were once more firmly locked up tight in her soul.

A bare quirk around her lips answered him, "No, I'm fine now," she told him quietly.

Patroclese stood and went back to Junius, "Give me the keys to the padlocks on those chains," he instructed, "I want them off of her before they do any more damage."

"Are you sure, healer?" questioned the young decurion, "I mean, if she's going to have another one of those fits, I'd as soon keep her under those restraints."

"It wasn't a fit," assured Patroclese, "Just a bad dream."

"Just a dream? I'd hate to be around her if she had a nightmare! Who's this Solan she was screaming about?"

"Her son," answered the healer shortly holding his hands out for the keys.

"She's got a son?" questioned the young officer as he handed over two of the four keys he held.

"Had a son. He was murdered by someone trying to hurt her," he told his fellow Roman grimly, "The boy was very young and didn't even know who his mother was. From what I understand, her guilt drove her to the brink of madness." He looked at the two keys and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"You can unlock the ones from her legs and body, but the collar one stays in place, I won't put men more at risk than necessary," Junius told him.

"Fair enough," agreed Patroclese, "She's broken the belt, so you better send to the armoury for another one."

"Already done," assured the decurion.

"By the way, how much sleep did she get?"

"About four candlemarks, no more."

Patroclese crossed the cell once more and tried the first of the keys in the padlock that held the chain tight around Xena's legs, when it didn't fit he tried the second one and nodded to himself as the lock snapped open. He carefully unwrapped the heavy chain and discarded it behind him. Turning his attention to the one around her body, he made short work of the lock and quickly disposed of the chain.

Xena carefully flexed her muscles, using her relative freedom from the belt restraint to rub some life back into her numb arms, "Thanks," she said.

"Hold still while I get that belt off you," Patroclese instructed, as he deftly unbuckled the leather belt and examined the metal ring on the front that she had ripped apart, "That took some strength," he said carefully and saw her shrug unhappily.

"It's not always something that I can control," she admitted softly.

"Let me get something on that neck, and then I want to look at your back," he explained as he dug the salve he required from his medical bag.

"Take your time," she told him, "I'm not going anywhere."

- A pale attempt at humour, but at least an attempt, - he thought to himself as he gave her an encouraging smile.

He worked quickly and methodically, noting the dull aspect that had edged into her eyes, "You need to get some more sleep," he told her and saw the hunted look return before she took control.

She shook her head and replied, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Try," he insisted, "You need the rest." He saw the stubborn set to her jaw, and patted her arm sympathetically, "Are you hungry, thirsty?"

"I could use a little water," she admitted.

Patroclese went back to the door and spoke softly with Junius who headed into the guardroom to return a short while later with a large cup of water. Patroclese thanked him and took it back to Xena who drank the contents of the cup thirstily.

As she returned the cup to the healer, she tasted the tang of herbs in her mouth. Anger burning in her eyes, she grabbed the healer's coat and demanded, "What did you put in there?"

"Just something to help you sleep. You need the rest and those herbs should ensure that your slumber is dreamless." He watched as she struggled against the potent effects of the herbs, slowly falling back into the straw, her eyes closing as the powerful drugs overcame her resistance and joined forces with the exhaustion she was already struggling against.

Patroclese stood up and sighed heavily. It was going to be a long trip down to Massilia. Caesar intended to keep up his campaign to break down Xena's resistance so that by the time they got back to Rome she'd be more pliable and easier to handle. The healer doubted very much that it would ever happen.