She was always telling to write about myself. It was really hard for me to do when she first mentioned it. We'd just encountered the Titans and I started writing about Xena's heroic efforts.

"You know, you're a part of that story too." We were sitting around the campfire. Xena had her sword between her knees and was sharpening it. She didn't even look at me as she said this.

I was working on the story, laying on my bedroll a few feet from where she sat. Looking up, I saw the way the fire light danced across her features.

I think she thought I wasn't going to say anything because she spoke again. "Why don't you write about yourself?"

I didn't have an answer for her. Why not write stories about myself? I had my private journal, but that still talked more about Xena than it did me.

There were many ways I could write the stories of the reformed Warrior Princess and still include myself. I could write from my point of view, using myself as a narrator. Or, I could be her sidekick, helping out like Iolus did for Hercules.

After a few attempts I realized I just couldn't do it.

Xena brought it up on a regular basis. But I brushed it off. I didn't know why I couldn't write about myself, and if I couldn't explain it to myself, then there was no way I'd be able to explain it to Xena.

Finally, I tried and chaos was the result! Of course it was a cursed scroll, but naked dancing Gabrielles?

A lot of time has passed since all of that. I have a lot more insight now than I ever did before. As time goes by and events pass, you learn more about yourself.

In retrospect, I realize now that I couldn't write about myself at that time because I didn't even know who I was. How could I write about a person I didn't even know?

During the first few years I traveled with Xena, I did a lot of growing. I became Queen to a nation, a mother, a widow, and a lover, not necessarily in that order. Those years passed so quickly, leaving my adolescence behind.

After awhile I began to question myself and my life. So much had happened -- good and bad. The temple of Nemescene taught me that without the bad, I couldn't have the good, but it was always the bad that stuck out most in my memory. In my dreams, I relived deaths of friends, husbands, and children.

I made it my mission to find out where I belonged. I couldn't see myself travelling for the rest of my life. That meant leaving Xena if I had to because her restless soul wouldn't let her settle.

I know I hurt her a lot during that time. I tried to make her realize that it wasn't her I was questioning, or even *our* life together I was trying to escape, I just needed to find a place for myself. But, I was headstrong and heedless.

The worst was when we met Najara. In a way, I think I feel manipulated by the woman. She showed me what she knew I would want to see. And I'm still not clear what exactly it was that she wanted from me. She seemed to think that I was in danger when I was with Xena. Looking back, I have to ask why she cared so much? Did the voices in her head really direct her to the point that other people's welfare became so important that she would go head to head with an ex-warlord?

In all my attempts to find myself, I think that one hurt Xena the most. The days following the incident with Najara, she was more quiet than usual. It had been a tough time anyway, things changing around us faster than we could adjust. The events following Dahak had finally, I thought, been put behind us. We were beginning to get used to liking each other again, and not hating or hurting. Well, let me rephrase that -- the hurt was always there, but we were learning how to love each other despite the hurt.

Finally, about four nights after we'd left Najara, I broached the subject with Xena. I had a few grievances of my own to talk to her about. We'd already set up camp and our bedrolls were close, but not touching. It had been like that for the last few nights. We'd turned in for the night, but I knew there'd be no sleep for me if I didn't talk to Xena about what was going on. I couldn't just let it go and hope that things would smooth over, I had to talk about it.

"Would you have just let me go like that?" Truth be told, I was hurt by the fact that Xena was willing to just walk away and leave me with Najara.

She was quiet for a few moments. "I thought that was what you wanted." Finally, her throaty voice came quietly to my ears.

"But, you didn't ask me if that's what I wanted. You were just going to leave me." I moved closer to her, looking at her face as we talked. "Why Xena?"

My lover still didn't look at me. "I...couldn't...stand the idea of you being..." I heard her swallow before she continued, "...afraid of me."

I hadn't realized that she'd overheard Najara and I talking by the lake. What in Apollo's name had inspired me to ever say that? Had I been prodded by Najara to say something that she wanted to hear from me?

I moved closer still, filled with several different emotions. All I really cared about was the sadness emanating from Xena. Bringing my hand to her face, I touched her cheek, marveling as always at the soft skin there. She sat absolutely still, as though she were afraid that by moving she'd scare me away.

"I'm not afraid of you Xena." And I wasn't. Her dark side was something I didn't want to deal with, but it was a part of her. Lately I'd seen more of it than ever before. I didn't think she'd hurt me...again. There's a lot to be said for trust, and even though I hadn't been sure of it myself, at that moment, I realized that I did trust Xena with whatever I had to give, even if it were only my life.

I had to take a step back as she stood from where she'd been sitting. Throwing her hands in the air she began to pace. "You should be. I don't even know why you stay with me. You're constantly put in danger, your life threatened. Why do you stay? How can you stay with a monster?"

Was that how she saw herself? I was taken aback. I never saw her as a monster. Even those times I'd seen the need to kill, the battle lust, rise in her, I never considered her a monster. If anything, it showed just how human she was.

The silence from me must have seemed like a sign to her. She grabbed her sword and chakram and quickly walked away from our camp and into the surrounding forest. I didn't try to stop her. What could I say to convince her that she wasn't a monster?

I sat down in the spot that she had occupied earlier. The blanket was still warm from where her body had been. I settled in there, my mind working on trying to understand any of this. I didn't go after her because I knew she'd be back.

Words kept stumbling around in my brain, words like why and monster and love and fear. What did they all mean? And how did they all relate to us? When had finding myself turned into something so much more? The underlying question I kept falling back on was why. Why did I stay? Why didn't I just and find my place on this world and be happy there?

It began only three years ago when I started traveling with the reformed Destroyer of Nations. She was dark and quiet, hardly ever paying attention to the village girl trailing after her. There were few times when I saw something behind the stoic warlord mask. Something vulnerable and completely warm.

From the minute I saw her, I had this need to be a part of her life. Not just to get to know her, or to talk to her. I had to be a part of her life, and I accepted from that moment on that I would be, no matter what kind of life it turned out to be. I think that even if she did turn into a warlord again, I would still follow. It wasn't a question of needing to do good, it was a matter of following the other half of my soul.

Maybe that's why I'd felt so confused. My own morals and standards were shattering before my eyes. I was faced with the idea that the woman I loved was more than the reformed warlord. She was more than the do-gooder. So much more than just my lover. Was I willing to follow that even if it meant losing a part myself? And, if I lost a part of myself, was I still a whole person?

I must have fallen asleep at some point as I was thinking. I remember my dreams being filled with demon Xena's all holding bloody swords. I followed all of them. The dream Xena's kept repeating "Why Gabrielle, why?" over and over until I realized that it wasn't my dream.

I opened my eyes and saw a dark form hovering over me, soft hair brushing against my face, something wet falling on my neck.

"Why Gabrielle, why?"

And that was when I realized that Xena didn't understand herself any better than I understood myself. That thought hit me like a bolt of lightening thrown by Zeus. If that were true, then maybe, just maybe, she was losing herself to me too.

"Shhh...Xena, it's okay." I pulled her head to my chest, cradling it against me while trying to calm her.

After a few moments her breathing evened out. The sounds of night covered our silence.

"Why?" She spoke again, her voice calmed this time, sounding weary.

Wasn't that the question I'd been trying to answer all along? I knew it now without a doubt in my mind. "Because I love you Xena."