FADE IN

On a crowded street in a city that has a Middle Eastern look.

The atmosphere is busy and festive. Men and women in colorful clothes are going by, talking animatedly. Vendors are selling their wares on the side of the road--everything from caged doves to jars of oil and wine to jewelry and clothing. The camera glides past a pretty young woman trying on a beautifully embroidered wrap, a middle-aged woman picking out fruit, a young man looking over a jar.

CUT TO

A deserted, half, dark, narrow street. Footsteps can be heard, obviously of someone running, gradually getting closer.

A pair of male feet in richly decorated sandals comes in to view; the hem of a rich purple robe is visible as well, below the knee. The man is running; he is panting, clearly out of breath. Footsteps are heard behind him, catching up to him.

CUT TO

The crowded, bustling street we saw before.

Titles appear, superimposed on the screen:

The camera pans over a man pushing a cart filled with merchandise, then two women carrying bundles on their heads, then to a young couple haggling with a vendor over some ceramic pots.

FEMALE VOICE (off-camera, rising above the general din of the crowd):
     Hey, watch it!

MALE VOICE (off-camera):
     He's drunk!

There are shouts off-camera as a middle-aged man with a graying beard staggers into view. He is wearing a rich purple robe and a headdress. He is bleary-eyed and seems disoriented. He lurches and knocks over two of the vendor's ceramic pots, smashing them to pieces.

VENDOR:
     Hey!

The man staggers by.

VENDOR (shakes a fist at him):
     You gotta pay for those!

The young woman who has been haggling with the vendor shakes her head reproachfully.

YOUNG WOMAN:
     Looks like someone's been hitting the sacramental wine too early for the holidays.

The camera follows the man as he continues to stagger down the street, bumping into people who shout in annoyance. Suddenly, he collapses; a young man catches him.

YOUNG MAN (alarmed):
     Hey, I don't think he's drunk--he's sick!

The camera zooms in on the man's face. His eyes are half-closed. His breathing is shallow and blood bubbles on his lips.

The camera pulls back to show a crowd gathering around the man as he convulses and cries out hoarsely, then lies still.

YOUNG MAN (looks up):
     He's dead.

The crowd erupts in alarmed murmurs.

OLD WOMAN (fearfully):
     What happened to him?

YOUNG MAN:
     Wait--

A look of realization comes over his face. He turns the man over. The hilt of a dagger, previously concealed by the folds of the robe, is sticking out of his back.

Gasps are heard off-camera.

DISSOLVE TO

A man's hands holding the dagger up for inspection.

The camera pulls back to show the man holding the dagger. This is John of Giscala. He is about 40, wearing dark leather armor, a sword at his side. The camera pulls out further to show the dead body on the ground and the crowd still gathered around the site, as well as several warriors. It is obviously a little after the previous scene.

JOHN:
     This is no ordinary street murder. The man was Ezra Ben Adiel, a member of the high council of temple priests. And this (holds up the dagger) has the mark of the Sicarii.

Gasps are heard around them.

MAN (off-camera):
     May every coward who preaches appeasement of the Romans meet such an end.

John turns toward the voice, a scowl coming over his face.

JOHN:
     Simon Bar-Giora.

The camera pans over to the speaker. Simon Bar-Giora is a somewhat younger man than John, taller and darker. He wears a black robe with a silver belt, crisscross silver straps and a silver medallion on his chest. There is a sword at his side.

JOHN:
     Bragging about your men's handiwork?

BAR-GIORA (sarcastic):
     And if I am? Want to do something about it, John? Your men may hold the temple--but you are not the king of the city.

One of the warriors by John's side draws his sword.

WARRIOR:
     It's about time someone put a stop to your thugs' reign of terror.

JOHN:
     Eleazar--wait.

The man charges forward. Flashing a grin, Bar-Giora draws his sword. The camera pulls back to show several armed men behind him.

Eleazar and Bar-Giora clash swords; the other men follow suit and start sparring. The crowd begins to disperse and take cover, the people clearly panicked. The camera pulls back to show the fight. Bar-Giora jumps up on a vendor's wooden table, kicking away some pots and dishes as we pan quickly to the middle-aged female vendor clutching her head in dismay.

Bar-Giora and Eleazar continue to spar, Bar-Giora on the table, Eleazar on the ground, as the others fight around them. Eleazar steps back and swings his sword at the front feet of the table, chopping each in half with a single blow. The table collapses but Bar-Giora jumps off, landing on his feet. The sparring continues.

Close-up on a sword slicing through the air and interposing itself between Bar-Giora's and Eleazar's swords.

The camera pulls back to show that the sword belongs to John.

JOHN (forcefully):
     Enough! Do you want to kill each other and do the Romans' work for them?

The two men hesitate, breathing heavily. The other men who are fighting pause as well.

A noise is heard off-camera. The camera pans to show more men, in armor similar to that of John's warriors, running toward the scene.

Bar-Giora looks at them, then lowers his sword and nods toward his men.

BAR-GIORA:
     Retreat!

Bar-Giora and his men leave the scene. Eleazar re-sheathes his sword, staring after them with frank hostility. John re-sheathes his sword as well.

JOHN (to his men):
     Take the body away.

As the body is removed in the background, John and Eleazar walk down the street together.

JOHN:
     That was a rash thing to do. We cannot afford a war with Bar-Giora--not without backup. If we were to make an alliance with Josephus--

ELEAZAR (shocked):
     The former governor of Galilee? The one who refused to give you supplies when you were up against the Romans in the North? He'll never agree. (thinks a moment) Unless...

JOHN:
     Unless what?

ELEAZAR:
     Unless there's someone who can help. Someone who owed Josephus' father a favor, many years ago.

JOHN:
     Who is he?

ELEAZAR (smiles a little):
     She. A woman warrior--from Greece.

JOHN (shocked):
     Not the infamous Xena!

Eleazar nods in assent. John thinks a moment, contemplating him.

JOHN:
     I know the stories. She was helped by our people once, and then helped us in return. (pensively) You know she was thought dead for years. You really believe those tales--that she came back, unchanged by age?

ELEAZAR:
     Last year, when my army was defeated by the Romans, I fled to North Africa and took refuge with the nomad tribe led by the brave Kahina.

John nods in acknowledgment.

ELEAZAR:
     She met Xena and her friend Gabrielle, a mere five years ago, when they were traveling through those lands. Back then, Kahina's people and a rival tribe, under threat of conquest by the Romans, were locked in bitter enmity with each other--

JOHN:
     I heard. Then they joined forces and were able to repel the Romans.

ELEAZAR:
     It was Xena who helped forge that alliance.

JOHN:
     And you think she can do that here.

ELEAZAR:
     It is said she's a woman of many skills.

CUT TO

Morning at a campsite. Xena crouches over a fire, clumsily turning a fish over in a frying pan. Gabrielle stirs in her bedroll and her eyes come suddenly open. She places a hand on her belly.

GABRIELLE:
     Xena! Xena, come quick!

Xena drops the frying pan and moves to Gabrielle's side.

XENA:
     What is it? What's wrong?

Gabrielle grabs her hand and places it on her belly.

GABRIELLE:
     The baby! It's kicking!

Xena pauses a moment, rubbing her hand over Gabrielle's belly. She gasps when she feels a kick.

XENA:
     Whoa! This one is going to take after Mom!

GABRIELLE (smiles):
     But hopefully a little taller.

Xena continues to rub Gabrielle's belly a moment in order to entice movement from the baby and Gabrielle leans back contentedly.

GABRIELLE:
     This is nice. Just you and me out on the road. One last time before everything changes.

XENA:
     Just like old times, huh?

GABRIELLE:
     You know, with everything that's ever happened to us over the years I learned to fear change.

Xena eyes Gabrielle warily but Gabrielle smiles.

GABRIELLE:
     But now I know, everything is going to be okay.

Xena smiles and nods.

XENA:
     Everything is going to be okay.

Gabrielle places her hand over Xena's on her stomach.

GABRIELLE:
     Here...he's kicking again. You know, it's much nicer sharing this moment with you than with Ares.

Xena rolls her eyes.

XENA:
     Ares told me about your moment. I don't think he's recovered yet.

GABRIELLE:
      Are you sure it was okay to leave Darion with him?

XENA:
     Sure. We'll only be gone two days and Ares knows where to find us.

GABRIELLE:
     That isn't what I meant, Xena.

XENA:
     There's only so much damage Ares can do to the kid in two days.

Xena retrieves the frying pan, spooning some up onto a plate and handing it over to Gabrielle.

GABRIELLE:
     I suppose you're right. (Gabrielle looks down at her plate in shock.) And speaking of changes! Since when do you cook?

XENA:
     Since right now. You need taking care of.

GABRIELLE (smiles warmly):
     You've always taken care of me, Xena.

XENA:
     Well, right now you're getting a little extra care.

Gabrielle rubs her belly reflectively. After a moment, she picks her head up as if she's heard something.

GABRIELLE:
     Xena...

XENA:
     I hear it.

Faint footsteps can be heard out in the forest. Xena gains to her feet, her movements slow and deliberate. She steps between Gabrielle and the underbrush and draws her sword.

XENA:
     I know you're out there. Show yourself.

Ares saunters into the clearing, his hands casually raised above his head.

ARES:
     Time was, you could sense my animal magnetism from leagues away. You must be slowing down.

Xena re-sheathes her sword.

XENA:
     I guess I'm still getting used to you being mortal.

ARES:
     Don't rub it in.

GABRIELLE:
     Ares, where's Darion?

ARES:
     Keep your shirt on, Gabrielle. The kid's okay. He's guarding our rear.

GABRIELLE:
     Guarding your--? (she sighs in exasperation.) You see, Xena?

Gabrielle goes to the edge of the clearing and calls out loudly.

GABRIELLE:
     Darion?

Darion's voice comes back faintly from the forest.

DARION:
     Coming!

A moment later Darion appears, carrying a small bundle in his hands.

GABRIELLE:
     Darion, what were you doing out there?

He offers up his bundle.

DARION:
     I found some berries. They're for you. Ares said they're good for the baby.

Gabrielle raises an eyebrow at Ares.

GABRIELLE:
     Oh, Ares said that, did he?

Ares reddens and turns to Xena.

ARES:
     Okay, back to business.

He produces a piece of parchment from his vest and hands it to Xena.

ARES:
     This came for you yesterday. It seemed important.

Xena takes the letter and Ares crouches down by the fire, inspecting the contents of the frying pan.

ARES:
     Look at this, kid. Always with the fish. Just once you'd think they would kill an elk or something and make a real man's meal.

Xena looks up from the letter and frowns.

XENA:
     We need to get the camp packed up.

GABRIELLE:
     Why? Where are we going?

XENA:
     We've got a boat to catch.

FADE OUT

END OF TEASER