fandomhigh | Library, Wednesday (2/16)

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Library, Wednesday (2/16)

It was a relief to get back to the quiet and normalcy of the library today, after everything; that was the theory, anyway.

It was just a little too quiet, and on those occasions where she found herself with nothing to do, Gabrielle took to going into the stacks and picking out armfuls of random books to read just for the sake of having to go back and reshelve them herself later.

. . . which didn't do too much about the quiet, but it kept her hands busy. That, at least, was something. Thank all the gods ever that she'd never been the type to waste precious parchment and ink on writing morose poetry, and wasn't about to start.

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"Not like I would ever have been able to imagine him," Faramir replied, but he did not seem to think that was such a bad thing.

"So will you tell me what happened or shall you have me guessing? We could be here a while then."

Gabrielle sighed. It would be good to unload everything onto someone she trusted, but as usual she was more worried about how he'd deal with it.

"I don't want to ruin your memories of a good weekend, Faramir. Are you sure you want to hear about this?"

Faramir grimaced and shook his head. "I assure you, I would welcome the distraction. Even then, you need not worry. I will always wish to listen if it will in some way will help relieve you burden."

Beren, Gabrielle reflected, in some future was a lucky child to have him for a father.

"Do you remember the child I told you about, Hope?" she asked. "When I asked you if you thought it was possible for a child to be good, even if she was born in evil circumstances?"

"I do," Faramir nodded and he leaned against the bookcase behind him. "Did you find your answer?"

Gabrielle nodded, running a fingertip absently over the spines of the closest books.

"I did. The answer wasn't what I hoped --" Unfortunate choice of words. "What I thought it would be. I was willing to lie to give her that chance, and I did. That lie did more damage than I ever thought it would."

"What did you tell her?" Faramir asked quietly, refraining from pointing out that usually the truth was the correct path to follow.

Oh, Gabrielle had been telling herself that in several dozen incredibly wordy ways since she'd gotten back to Fandom.

"It wasn't Hope I lied to," she explained. "It was Xena. I told her . . . that Hope was dead. That she turned on me, and I had to kill her, when really, I sent her away instead, so she'd have that chance. But she --"

She paused, maybe to take a breath, maybe because she was a little choked up. "She found us. But not before she found someone who'd been wanting to get revenge on Xena for years. Someone who knew that the best way to do that was to go after Xena's son . . . and helped her."

It was circle, one that came back to you and Faramir sighed. He moved closer towards Gabrielle, reaching out to touch her shoulder. "What happened?"

"Their plan succeeded," Gabrielle said shortly, reaching up to put her hand over his. "Solan's gone . . . and Kaleipus, too."

And a number of Amazons and Centaurs had died in the fight against Callisto, as well; Gabrielle had made sure to ask after each of their names, so she knew the number very well.

"Xena won't speak to me now. And Hope --" She brushed a hand agitatedly against her skirt. "My lie turned out to be the truth."

"I am sorry," he squeezed her shoulder, knowing his words would hold little comfort but he spoke them either way. "Yet, do not forget that you did not chose their path. Your intentions were honourable. Admirable even. Theirs were less so. A heart filled with such hatred, it will find its way to destruction one way or another."

It was the fact that he tried that meant the most to Gabrielle.

"No, it can't be that final. It can't. If I hadn't had to send her away," she began, knowing there was little purpose in reliving the what-ifs but saying it anyway. "There could have been a chance. I could have taught her differently."

If Xena would have let her have that chance, and she knew that wouldn't have happened. "But now her blood is on my hands as much as Solan's and Kaleipus's."

"Perhaps you might have," Faramir agreed, knowing that he would do little good if he lied to her. "Yet, you are no more certain of that as you can be that she would not have turned against you."

He reached up to touch her cheek, lowering his head to make her meet his gaze. "Do not drive yourself crazy with what might have been. I doubt you will find your answer there. They chose the path of revenge, not you. You fought to protect, not to destroy. That taint is on them."

"People are dead because of my choices," Gabrielle protested -- halfheartedly. She couldn't flinch away from his gaze, and part of her was a little too desperately glad for that. "That was never supposed to be what happened. I wanted to break the cycle of hatred and violence, not add to it. Xena won't even look at me any more, and I can't blame her for that."

She just might slump into him, too; being this self-reproachful was draining. "I'm responsible for all of this . . . as much as Xena is."

Xena had pushed her to those choices; that was the idea beginning to take root.

"And yet, there would be no cycle to break if everyone would be like you," Faramir said quietly, not looking or moving away until he was certain she did really hear him. "That, however, is not the case in any world and so even the best intentions do not always end as we imagine them. It is tragic, and it is a heavy burden. Heavy enough that you need not carry the weight of another's actions as well. Learn what you must from it, but do not let it harden you for others. That would be a true shame."

"How can you even look at me now that you know what I've done?" Stop it, Gabrielle. That kind of intense self-pity does no one any good, and leads to being flogged with palm branches in an Amazon sweat hut. "My own part in all of this is enough of a burden."

Granted, as far as she was concerned her own part was inextricably linked with the rest.

"I don't even know where to begin to atone for this mistake."

Somehow he did not think telling her that she was perhaps being too harsh on herself would do much good at all.

"As is wont, you will find some way," he assured her, shaking his head. "It is not very hard to look at you. It may even be pleasant if I knew how to ease this for you."

"I have to find a way," Gabrielle agreed; the thought of her life without Xena in it was . . . well, unthinkable. "Somehow. Right now, it all just hurts too much."

It was a struggle, much more than usual, to find something positive to hold on to, but she did. "But -- I am glad you're here, and that you understand. It really does help."

"If your friend has any sense, then she will see as I have seen," he assured her. He sighed and let go of her shoulder, pulling her into a hug instead.

Gabrielle could have argued that he hadn't seen the look on Xena's face that night by the funeral pyres, but she doubted -- and this was why she liked Faramir -- that he'd let that deter him from his argument.

It was . . . a little like being hugged by Xena, if all wrong in some way she couldn't pinpoint, and with a little sniffle she wrapped her arms around him and just held on.

"I have to believe that, don't I?" she asked, and with a tiny, faint effort at a laugh added, "I don't think you'd let me not believe it."

"I am stubborn in these ways," he agreed with a chuckle, his arms tightening around her. "Do not doubt your friend."

"I don't doubt you, no," Gabrielle replied. Oh, look -- an attempt at a joke. "And I'll try to have faith in her too."

"Good. We, Men of Gondor, do not like being doubted," he said lightly, his arms eased around her but he did not cease the embrace.

Of course, that mostly was true for Boromir. Faramir had a long history of being doubted.

Not by Gabrielle, who wasn't likely to start doubting him any time soon. Did that help?

"I don't know any other men of Gondor," she told him, "but I wouldn't get on your bad side that way. I promise."

"You will be hard pressed to get me on your bad side any way," Faramir assured her. Which perhaps was one of his faults.

. . . unflawed people were boring anyway.

"I hope you don't mind," she said, patting his arm, "if I don't want to take you up on that challenge."

"No," he agreed with a chuckle. "I would prefer it if you did not. I do not enjoy being vexed at someone."

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Library, Wednesday (2/16)

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