Disclaimers: Well, duh, Xena and Gabrielle (upon whom these characters are based) aren't mine. They belong to MCA/Universal, who are too chickens--t to do anything like this. Don't sue me - I'm a starving student and I won't be able to pay off your mortgage. I'll put 'em back when I'm finished playing.

No sex in this one, some non-graphic violence (domestic abuse), implied f/f romance. If that isn't your cup of tea, get lost. No flames! Other comments are welcome at RemyT@AOL.com

Summary: A glimpse into the life of a younger Alex and a teenage romance that never was.

*Bri would've hated this,* thought Alex bitterly. Of course, since the woman in question was no longer of the mortal plane, it was unlikely she could hate anything, or do something about it if she did. Still, as her long-estranged best friend had noted, Brianna's tastes while alive had run to cheery folk pop and sappy showtunes. She would have laughed at the somber church music pouring forth from the organ at a service in her honor. At her funeral.

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"Hey, Alex, wait up!" The cry came from behind the teenager, and Alex stopped to watch a burst of energy crowned by a cloud of reddish curls glinting in the sunshine weave through the knots of people on the front lawn of their high school. "'Scuse me; sorry; oh, Megan, I need third period's notes - call me, k? And I'll see you at practice, Kel. Gotta go - bye!"

Alex smiled inwardly as the bubbly human tornado charged over the last few yards of grass to her usual position at Alex's shoulder. "What's up, Brianna?" the young woman asked, shaking her head, and subsequently, her mane of black hair at her best friend's unceasing popularity. *That's Bri. Always the center of attention.*

"Oh, nothing. My math test was hideous - did you get that one on simplex tableaus? I'm SO glad we're out of here in less than two weeks. Senior power! By the way, I heard that Jimmy and Greta broke up Tuesday because he told his brother Evan, who told his best friend, who told HIS girlfriend, who's Nicole, who of course told GRETA, that he - Jimmy - thought that Jenny Padkin has pretty eyes. Can you IMAGINE? Oh, and Coach called a special practice to get ready for the big game Friday, so I'm gonna have to bail on Movie Night, k?"

"Sure, that's fine. I'll call you when you get home - around 9?" Despite what would seem obvious differences, Alex and Brianna shared that mental synchronization that comes over time spent together.

"Great. Oh, didja hear the one about the dyslexic rabbi? He walked around saying 'Yo!'" Both teenagers laughed. Brianna's eyes twinkled, her hair catching the sun, creating a nimbus of red-gold about her head. The girl looked like a mischievous angel, and the effect was not lost on her awestruck companion.

*Gods, she's beautiful,* thought Alex for an instant, then quickly stifled the thought and dropped a blank wall over her face, the laughter trailing off into the summer air.

The two young women headed out to the parking lot, seemingly

comfortable with each other as only good friends can be. Never mind that one of them had a secret.

The crowd roared as the last few seconds ticked off the clock.

*C'mon, Bri!* Alex cheered inwardly, her whole body tense as she watched her friend tear down the field. Brianna's fiery ponytail, decked out in school colors of green and white, bobbed in and out of the other team's gold and blue jerseys as she made her way toward the goal. Alex held her breath, waiting for the shot. Field hockey was so much more active than Alex's sport, softball. Not that she'd trade it for anything. But occasionally it was fun to sit on the sidelines and motivate her best friend. Bri had spent long hours in practice for this final game of the year, and Alex knew how much she wanted to win.

"GOAL!" screamed the fans in ecstasy, jumping up and down, hugging each other and cheering the players who were rioting on the field around a diminutive redhead with the biggest grin in the world on her face. She turned and met the eyes of the athletic brunette who was watching her every move. Alex offered a wordless thumbs-up, her face glowing, and the enthusiastic victory sign she was met with coaxed a slow smile from the quiet young woman. For a split second, the two stood, both hearts racing wildly, before Brianna was swept into the arms of her overjoyed teammates, who had just taken the game 3-2 on Brianna's winning goal.

"Bye, guys!" Bri called a last farewell over her shoulder at the last teenagers in the rapidly emptying parking lot of the all-night diner. They waved back wearily, with genuine smiles that Bri always seemed to produce. The enthusiastic girl climbed into the passenger side of Alex's RAV4, where the other girl was waiting, content to let her friend take the spotlight. The field hockey captain and star forward certainly deserved the attention she was getting from the other students. Alex was so proud of her. As Brianna fastened her seatbelt, Alex turned the key in the ignition and the vehicle purred quietly down the street, its glossy color blending perfectly with the night.

The RAV4 possessed an awesome amount of raw power, tempered behind a sleek exterior. It whispered along, always noticed, but rarely seen. Bystanders needed a moment to recognize the beauty contained in such an intimidating creation. Though the transport masqueraded as an elegant alternative to your standard SUV, at its core was always heat, power, and drive. Not surprisingly, Alex's car was much like the young woman herself.

*What am I gonna do?* wondered the serene young woman who was so strong and commanding. *What in hells am I going to do?*

"You played a good game tonight, Bri," she said quietly, eyes on the road. Ah, the power of understatement.

Totally ignoring the half-hearted compliment, the redheaded chatterbox turned abruptly at the sound of her friend's voice.

"All right, Alex, something's been bothering you the whole week." Though Brianna's best friend was often reserved, the perceptive young woman had noticed some conflict raging behind her companion's stony mask of silence. Even Alex wasn't usually this quiet. "What's up?" *Why have you been acting like someone's drop-kicked your cat across the room?* "C'mon, tell me," coaxed the petite charmer, sensitive to her friend's moods, but thoroughly uninterested in enabling Alex's depression.

Struggling to find an acceptable answer, the brunette turned

automatically down Blackfoot Lane, pausing momentarily at the stop sign she'd seen hundreds of times before. As she drove on autopilot, her mind raced frantically. *Tell her what? That I think she's amazing? And stunningly gorgeous? That I want our friendship to be more than that? That I've had illicit visions of her in that field hockey kilt during 7th period English? That I'm scared out of my mind by what any of this might mean?* She pulled into Brianna's driveway, no closer to a solution than she'd been an hour ago, or Wednesday, or last summer, or when she first saw this copper-topped fireball glibly evade the advances of some muscle-bound jock outside her science class freshman year.

"Alex, you haven't answered me," Brianna reminded her. " I'm not getting out until I find out what's going on."

"It's nothing, OK?" shrugged the taller girl. "Just... nothing."

Her friend hoisted an eyebrow until it nearly went through the roof of the RAV4. "You've got to be kidding. We've known each other how long? And you think you can get away with an answer like that?" The redhead laid a small hand on the friend's shoulder. "Hey. Look at me, Alex. There's definitely something bothering you."

At the touch of her best friend's hand, Alex felt a shock run through her. She took a deep breath, and reluctantly looked into the upturned face and worried green eyes searching her own for secrets too long denied. She licked her lips nervously, searching for words.

"Yeah, we have known each other a long time. You're my best friend, Bri." Alex stumbled over her sentences, feeling oddly detached. She had the distinct feeling that if she were actually in her body, saying these words to the girl in the passenger seat, she'd be too terrified to breathe. "You're wonderful, talented, smart, funny. Beautiful." And suddenly she was there, in the moment, her heart pounding so hard in her chest, her throat clenching around the admission she was about to make. *Oh Gods, here goes.* "I think.... I think I'm in love with you."

She never once closed her eyes; looked into the depths of her best friend's soul and saw an instant of dumbfounded confusion, followed closely on, by recognition, she supposed, of something that Brianna had known for a long time. These were overtaken, however, by an ugly mask of anger and disgust, and something else. Fear? Then it began.

She never closed her eyes, all through the rain of filth falling from the mouth of this innocent-looking red-haired girl, who seemed too young to know what the words she was saying meant. Her eyes remained open, even as she wanted to force them shut in pain and despair as the car door slammed and a piece of her soul stalked through the gate of the white picket fence - how cliché, some part of her mind noted absently - and out of her life. She watched, with eyes that never closed, and behind the tinted window, her heart quietly broke.

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That was eight years ago, Alex thought, as she sat in the last pew of the church with tears bright and salty on her face. Eight years, and so much had happened. The two girls graduated a week after that midnight confession, and they managed not to speak to each other in the days dividing the two events. Alex went on to UC Santa Barbara on a softball scholarship, and life continued despite the pain. Eventually, there were distractions: midterms, spirited rivalry between college sports, that one drunken night with the pitcher of the Santa Cruz team that was never mentioned by either woman afterwards.

Alex heard through her mother that Brianna had married the Stevens boy (almost an exact duplicate of that jerk she was busy outwitting when Alex first met her) not even two months after school let out. Her parents were surprised, but pleased, when their pride and joy took up housekeeping. Alex cried for three hours when she got the news, then went to practice. She still felt a twinge in her heart every time she caught a glimpse of copper curls, or heard a bubbly laugh around the corner, but she hid it behind that infallible mask of ice.

The brunette found a gay/lesbian/bisexual/transgender support group early sophomore year, through that program located a campus therapist, and slowly began to heal. She came out to her mother, who gave her a big hug and said, "I don't think it's an easy life, but you're my daughter and I will always love you, no matter what." There was a steady stream of backstage tech work. There were also a few girlfriends along the way, one who seemed as though she might last. A cool blonde stage director, Chris shared Alex's apartment for almost three years, then abruptly decided that the partnership wasn't working out and that she was moving to Singapore with the aging star of her last show, who would keep her in Chanel and not complain about it. Alex accepted the loss with equanimity, realizing that this woman had never really held her heart.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch... though Alex had no way of knowing, Randy Stevens and his young bride were having problems. Randy's drinking had increased from the abandoned football parties of high school, and he regularly berated his wife for not having dinner ready when he got home from work or for forgetting something at the store. When she brought home the wrong brand of toilet paper one day a few years into the marriage, he slapped her across the face and left a swollen black eye that distorted her lovely features for days and her delicate psyche for much longer. Brianna's parents had died in a car crash three years after graduation, leaving her with no other family, so she stayed. He kept hitting her, and the beatings escalated from every other month to almost every other day. The carefree girl that used to stage impromptu choruses of "Happy Birthday" in the middle of math slowly drifted into nothingness. And still she stayed.

One day, he started in on her and just didn't stop. When she was lying unconscious on the kitchen floor, Randy went and took the 9mm Glock that he was so proud of and put a round through her brain, stopping her chatter forever. He then turned the pistol on himself. A neighbor heard the shots and arrived in time to watch Randy Stevens bleed out the last of his pathetic life on the freshly-waxed linoleum of his pretty wife's kitchen. They found, upon collecting statements from the people who knew the man, that Randy had been laid off from his job that very afternoon. He just couldn't handle it, apparently. Several local winos testified that they saw him at Pete's, an infamous liquor store in town, at about 4 P.M., cussing out the clerk. Then he took it home.

Eight years after a young girl who knew too little about the world crushed her best friend's spirit for what seemed like would be forever, Alex Whittier got a call from her hometown. A lawyer. Brianna Stevens' lawyer, he said. It took her a moment to place the name. Of course, she was married now. What did he want? Well, he was sorry to inform her of this sad news, but Mrs. Stevens was killed a few days ago and Alex was a beneficiary of her will. Would she be so kind as to fly down and see him in his office to discuss the matter? Oh, and the funeral was at noon tomorrow. Alex booked the plane tickets.

Eight years. And so much had changed. But some things stayed the same. *Why?* Alex asked herself, or Brianna, or an unfeeling God, for the hundredth time. *Why did all this happen to Bri, my wonderful Bri who made everyone laugh?* Rising from her seat, the Amazonian brunette strode out into the harsh sunlight that seemed incongruous with the blackness of her mood. Alex didn't care. She had a mission to accomplish, and she intended to carry it out.

"Here's the letter." A small balding man with horn-rimmed glasses held out a flat white envelope. Alex was still stunned. Moments ago, the same man had announced that in her will, Brianna had left Alex custody of her daughter. Daughter? Alex didn't even know that Brianna had had a child. And now there was a letter. From Brianna, she assumed. That the man - what was his name? Lowenstein. Alfred Lowenstein. His parents must've hated him - was standing there with. And had been, for almost a minute. Alex shook her head to clear away the fuzziness and took the envelope from Mr. Lowenstein's outstretched hand. She sank into a well-upholstered chair and opened the letter as the lawyer discreetly withdrew and closed the door behind him.

Dear Alex,

It's been a long time. If you're reading this, I have to assume that I'm dead. An awful thing to think about. You're probably not too happy with me right now. I don't blame you; I was a royal bitch the last time we spoke. I really am sorry for that. You see, you scared me. On some level, I knew what you were going to say. I understood that our relationship was edging beyond "just friends". And that terrified me. I'm not sure I can tell you how much. Because I felt the same way. I just couldn't deal with it.

You were always the strong one, Alex. I know you think I was so confident, with the singing and sports and all that talking. But that was just a cover-up for what was really going on inside. You, the one who never talked, who seemed so icy and withdrawn to anyone outside your circle, you had so much more strength than I.

So I need you to do me a favor. Take care of my daughter, since I can't any more. I have no family living, and she won't be safe with her father. Please, Alex, do this one thing for me. Despite all I said that awful night, I trust you. You were my best friend, and the only one I would want to raise my daughter.

I'm sorry. And I love you, too.

Brianna

Alex stood, the single sheet of paper dangling loosely from her hand. *Oh, Bri. You never told me.* She walked to the window and stared out at the bright summer day, eyes brimming with tears, thinking about all the might-have-beens. So much responsibility. How could she take care of a child? Did she even want to - the child of a woman she hadn't seen or spoken to in eight years?

As she stood silently at the window, thoughts jumbling through her brain, something caught her eye. On the street below, two girls, looking about seventeen, walked together. Their hands were linked, and they were laughing, utterly happy in their love and friendship. Tears of remembrance sliding down her face, Alex shut her eyes and a vision swam before her mind. Brianna's face, as it had been that early summer eight years ago, before they graduated high school. As Alex watched, the redhead smiled, that open grin that always brought an answering joy to her best friend. Led by that trust, Alex finally found the courage to close her eyes and create the future, trusting that things would be taken care of.

That thought coursed through her mind and heart, and she barely registered the slow turning of the doorknob and the door that gently swung inwards. Alex looked up and her breath caught at the sight of a little girl of six or seven, with strawberry curls and her mother's inquisitive green eyes, gazing solemnly up at six feet of stranger.

"This is Sarah," said Alfred Lowenstein softly. Alex felt her heart flip-flop and, in that instant, she knew what she had to do. Lowering herself to the child's height, she smiled, a simple gesture that felt almost foreign to her face.

"Hi, Sarah. I'm Alex. I knew your mom when we were kids."

And suddenly, with a splash of redheaded sunshine, Brianna's daughter smiled back at the woman who had loved her mother. And Alex knew that this was where she belonged.