She jerked to a sitting position, wrenching her neck on the collar that was still chained to the wall. She coughed and spluttered as she choked up the water she had swallowed when the guards had dumped two buckets full over her to wake her. Roaring her anger, confused by the images that lingered in her mind, she lunged forward, only to be brought crashing down and choking by the collar once more.

Xena shook her head to try and clear her mind and throw her long curtain of hair away from her face. As she fought to master the rage and terror that were the legacy from her dreams, she pushed herself back against the cell wall, desperate to establish who she was facing, her mind still cloudy from the drug Patroclese had used.

"Stand up , slave!" barked Flaccus.

She shook her head again, trying to push the fogginess away. The motion was taken as refusal to comply and drew an immediate reprisal in the form of heavy blows from batons that rained down towards her head and shoulders. She threw her arms over her head to protect it, and drew her legs in tight to her chest, trying to minimize the area available for damage.

As her arms came up the beating stopped and she felt hands grab her and pull her to her feet. She stood swaying shakily, securely held by two guards. Flaccus grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled her head back roughly. Xena flinched as the memory of Callisto doing the same thing jumped fresh in her memory. Her eyes showed a haunted terror before she could control herself.

"You crippled six of my men, slave," snarled Flaccus, "I ought to have every inch of hide off your back and then some. You're damned lucky the general wants you in one piece."

"Oh yeah," she retorted fuzzily, "I'm really lucky to be here, aren't I?" a nervous chuckle escaped her before being silenced as Flaccus's fist crashed into her jaw, snapping her head sideways.

"I warned you about that smart mouth of yours, slave," he growled, "Keep your tongue between your teeth unless you want to lose it. Fighters don't need to be able to talk!"

The blow, though painful, had the beneficial effect of clearing her head from the last lingering effects of the drug. She drew herself up between her guards and looked Flaccus in the eye with just a hint of the icy fire, that burned within her, showing. She did refrain from saying anything, but he could see the defiance that lingered within her and Xena almost detected a grudging admiration in the senior centurion's grey eyes.

He held out his hand and one of the soldiers passed him a new leather belt complete with manacles that had been expertly rivetted into the thick leather making a far more sturdy form of restraint. The two guards holding her, moved her forward so that Flaccus could fasten the belt tight around her waist. Then he locked the new cuffs into place, before removing the old.

When he'd finished he told her curtly, "You'll be given some food. Eat it and make sure you drink. We're leaving here in less than a candlemark, and the general doesn't want you collapsing from starvation on the march."

Not waiting to hear Xena's compliance, Flaccus turned and stalked from the cell, leaving the guard detail to pass the food and water to the prisoner. Watching him go, Xena shivered in her cold, wet clothing. Released by the two soldiers, she sat down and took the food she was offered, eating ravenously. She tentatively sniffed at the contents of the water skin, but could detect no odours warning of drugs, so she swallowed thirstily and was prepared for them when they came to get her for the continuing journey down to Massilia.

Patroclese waited patiently for Caesar to finish the paperwork he was completing, and ran through his mind just what he wanted to convey to his master. They were about half way through the trip between Lugdunum and Arelate and once again Xena had been deprived of any rest for four days. The warrior was beginning to look haggard and worn. The fire had gone out of her eyes and her normally golden skin had lost it's sheen. She stumbled along amidst her guards in a daze, and responded sluggishly to commands. Outwardly it appeared that Caesar's regime was having the desired effect, but the healer knew that this treatment was storing up trouble of the worst possible kind.

Caesar knew that the healer wanted to speak to him about Xena and took his time with the papers while he debated with himself as to what tack he should take on this issue. He was well aware that, although the exhaustion was weakening her physically and mentally, it was allowing her control over herself to slip. She'd already managed to seriously injure fifteen of the best men he had whilst caught between the twilight world of dreams and consciousness and, he had to admit to himself, that he was becoming concerned that rather than breaking her, he was awakening the darkness within her that had earned her the title of Destroyer of Nations. He wasn't too sure that it was a good idea.

He looked up and saw that Patroclese was watching patiently, "Well," he asked, "what's bothering you?"

"Xena," answer the healer flatly. "My Lord, I know that you want to tame her, but I don't think what you're doing at the moment is going to work." He didn't add that he doubted anything would actually work in this case. "There's something in the woman that she keeps deeply suppressed. It's what makes her the fighter she is. It's a power that she taps into when the situation demands. But it's like a flow of lava. It has to be kept in tight channels, because should it get free it will swallow everything in it's path."

"Go on," encouraged Caesar, leaning back in his chair and steepled his fingers to let his chin rest upon them.

"By draining her mentally, first exhausting her and then allowing her to be claimed by nightmares in deep slumber, she is gradually losing her control over the dark force that drives her. You won't break her resistance to you this way, but you may well destroy her ability to resist her own dark side. If that should break free, it won't matter who you hold and threaten the life of, the person she becomes won't care, she'll just destroy anything and everything in her path ... starting with you, my Lord." finished up Patroclese softly.

Caesar remained silent for a long period of time. His thoughts had run pretty much along the lines that his physician's had taken. He wanted to dominate and break Xena. He would have liked to achieve his aim by the time that they reached Rome, which was why he had chosen this way to work on her. He did not want her to become totally uncontrollable, which was what was beginning to develop.

He knew that he had all the time he needed to break her. He admitted to himself that he had thought that it would be a long task to achieve his ends. Why spoil the sweet outcome with a haste that might ruin everything. Once he got her safely to Rome, he'd be able to use the bard and the others to force Xena's stubborn will to bend to his own. The exercise, might prove to be entertaining. - But, by the Gods, I want her to kneel before me and acknowledge me master, - his thoughts roared within him. - For now, though, I'll have to content myself with knowing that she is mine to dispose of as I please. -

He looked steadily at Patroclese, "What you have said makes sense. I had been thinking along those lines myself, anyway," he acknowledged. "Send Flaccus in to me when you leave. I think we'll put my slave back in her cage for a while. She can catch up on some sleep for the rest of this journey."

Patroclese bowed and backed up two paces then turned to leave the command tent, before being arrested by Caesar's voice, "Oh, Patroclese," he said thoughtfully, "I think perhaps you should give her something to make sure she does sleep. Even when she's been offered the chance to do so she's refused to close her eyes."

"She won't take anything, my Lord. She knows much about healing and herb lore and she is careful to check anything that is given to her now." answered the healer tonelessly.

Caesar smiled grimly, "If she won't take it willingly, I'll have her held down and force it into her. One way or another she will learn to obey."

"As my Lord commands," agreed Patroclese as he bowed once more and finally left the tent shaking his head as he went.

"No," snarled Xena angrily as she struggled against the chains that bound her to the stake in the centre of the camp.

Patroclese remained patient as he tried to explain to her, "You need to sleep, Xena. You won't allow yourself to do so naturally, so you must ...."

"NO!" she repeated more forcefully as she turned haunted blue eyes on him that contained a barely suppressed fury.

The healer laid a gentle hand on the woman's shoulder, but she shrugged it off with a surge of muscle. He tried to make her understand once again, "Xena, unless you take this willingly, you're going to have it force fed to you. Flaccus has his orders ... all I'm trying to do is save you some trouble."

She looked at him sullenly as he raised the cup to her lips. She took a mouthful then shook her head violently, knocking the cup away and spilling the contents. The liquid she had in her mouth she sprayed out over Patroclese, "No," she hissed, "I won't face them again!"

Flaccus appeared by the healer's side and barked gruffly, "We've tried your way, man, now get me some more of that stuff so I can carry out my orders."

Unhappy with the situation, Patroclese did as he was instructed and produced another mug full of the brew. He saw Xena clench her teeth firmly shut as he handed the cup to Flaccus.

"Bring that funnel over here," the centurion commanded as he shot out a large right hand and squeezed the Warrior Princess's jaw until she was forced to open it. She attempted to struggle against the hold, but Flaccus was strong and had a firm grip.

Xena gagged as the funnel was forced into her mouth and Flaccus began to trickle the drug down her throat a little at a time, the position of the funnel forcing her to swallow or choke. As she felt the mixture flowing down into her stomach she had to force down the wail of despair that sought to escape from her. The thought of the nightmare images that awaited her caused her to tremble in dreaded anticipation. Inside her body quaked as she tried to fight off the mixture of herbs that drove her relentlessly towards the deep slumber that she was desperate to avoid.

"There's a good girl," grinned Flaccus as he removed his hand leaving stark finger marks and the faint beginning of bruises on her jaw. As the funnel was withdrawn, he patted her lightly on the cheek, "Sleep well, slave."

In full Warrior Princess mode, Xena pinned him with an icy blue stare and dropped her voice to a lower register before growling at him, "I have never been, nor ever will be, a 'good girl!'"

"How long will that put her out for, healer?" demanded Flaccus for once ignoring the woman's disrespectful words.

"At least twelve hours, possibly longer," Patroclese answered him, "Once she wakes up we'll get some food into her and then put her out again. After three doses of the stuff she should be over the exhaustion enough to be able to control her sleeping patterns and get her back to normal.

The men's voices began to fade in and out of focus as Xena fought to concentrate against falling into the insidious creeping darkness that waited to claim her and lacerate her soul. There was so many heinous deeds walled up inside her conscience, so many acts of violence, so many instances of ravaged innocence and goodness that she feared for her very sanity.

As Patroclese and Flaccus moved off into the night, Xena was claimed by the terrors of her darksoul and left to battle an unequal fight against everything that she was trying to atone for in her life.

On the eve of the seventh day since leaving Lugdunum, the Seventh Legion marched into Arelate and Xena found herself once more locked into a cell in the prefecture, and shackled to the wall like an animal by a chain fastened to her slave collar.

She'd been awake for most of the day. The nightmares that she had experienced had been ghastly once more. Her cries and screams had echoed along the road they had travelled and filled the silence of the nights when they stopped, but she had survived and the grinding fatigue that had robbed her of control was gone.

The thought of sleeping still filled her with a nameless dread, but she had managed to edge herself into a light doze in the afternoon, while shut in the small cage, rousing herself when the black memories began to intrude upon her rest. It was an improvement, but sleep now held a terror that she shied away from.

As she sat quietly in the cell, she silently took stock of her situation. She was alive, although she really wondered if that was such a good thing. She was injury free, she didn't count the odd bruise that dappled her skin. They'd had no cause to beat her for three days and her normal magical recuperative powers had worked their usual miracle. She was fit, long days of walking had seen to that if nothing else, and she had, by some god's grace, clung to her fragile sanity.

On the down side of all of this was the fact that she was still held, as securely as ever, by Caesar. Gabrielle was a prisoner of her enemy and would be at his mercy once again when they reached Rome. Autolycus and Joxer had both been captured and would be used as hostages against her behaviour, and she had no idea what had happened to Iolaus and her brother, Toris. - Situation desperate, but not critical ... yet! - she told herself despondently.

She looked up as she heard movement in the guardroom beyond the cell door and saw Patroclese approaching with a plate and a wine skin. He waited while the cell door was opened and then entered and moved to where Xena sat on the wooden bench.

"Brought you some dinner," he offered her the plate and as her stomach grumbled traitorously she noted that the healer had brought a huge meal of steak and vegetables, all of which had been cut into bite sized pieces. He handed her the plate and a wooden spoon to eat with.

"Thanks," she said grudgingly as she took both with a faint rattle of chains as she moved. "What did I do to earn this?" she indicated the steak as she took a mouthful and relished the change of taste in her usual diet.

"Peace offering," grinned Patroclese, who sat down on the bench beside her. "I know this sleep thing has been hard on you, but you're through it now. I think I've convinced my Lord that it shouldn't be tried again," he tried to assure her.

"Thanks again," she told him flatly. She didn't want to be reminded of her nightmare trips into Tartarus, and she was reluctant to express gratitude to anyone in Caesar's camp. She ate hungrily, avoiding conversation, allowing Patroclese's words to wash over her seemingly unnoticed.

"We'll be in Massilia in three days," he told her watching her spoon the food up with a fixed attention, "We're going back to Rome with the fleet that's been out chasing the Carthaginians. It should be a swift passage with nothing but sea and weather to bother us. Once we're there, you'll probably get to see Gabrielle again," he ventured.

"Oh yeah!" agreed the Warrior Princess, looking up from her half empty plate and pinning him with a stern glare, "I can just bet what Caesar has in store for her when he gets us back together. Is the thought of that supposed to make me feel good?" she demanded of him.

The passionate intensity of her outburst left the healer speechless for a moment. He hadn't really thought that she was listening to him, - But then, - he reflected, - you can never take anything for granted about this woman. - "Erm ... no," he got out finally, "I was just ...."

"Yeah, I know," she growled, turning her attention back to her food.

Patroclese looked at her with a mixture of the sympathy and sorrow that she had aroused in him for many, many days. He would have liked to help both her and her friend, but his loyalty lay with Caesar and this woman was a murderer, - But the bard isn't. - His conscience told him. - I can do nothing to help either of them, - he told himself firmly, - Both have broken the law and Lord Caesar has shown mercy by condemning them to slavery rather than death! - He bit his lip as his conscience came back at him, - Keep telling yourself that for long enough and just maybe you'll convince yourself it's true! -

She handed him the plate and spoon in silence as he passed her the skin, "It's wine ... it's not drugged. You have my word," he told her.

She gave him that half quirk, lopsided, almost smile, before she unstoppered the wineskin and took a long draught from it, "It's good," she told him, taking a second swallow, before replacing the bung and handing it back to him.

"You had enough?" he asked in surprise.

"Getting drunk won't help my situation," she told him bluntly, "And I really don't think you want to see me drunk. It's not pretty or healthy ... if you know what I mean."

"Right," agreed the healer uncertainly, "Well get some rest, we'll be leaving early in the morning."

She nodded her assent and curled up on the bench once Patroclese had stood, her mind focusing on the three day trip to Massilia and then the voyage to Rome, - And Gabrielle - she thought as she slipped into a light doze.