Charmed Hearts

Chapter 3: Hiraeth

Hiraeth - (n) a homesickness for a home which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past.

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**Xena's POV**

Xena leaned against the cool glass, her eyes closed listening as the silence surrounded her. She couldn't help but feel absolutely exhausted with her life. Looking down, she opened her pack and began to pull out all her stuff and lay it across the bed. She had come home early this morning and fallen asleep. When she woke up, dusk had fallen again.

I am officially nocturnal. She smiled at herself, but her smile faltered. Today was today. Today was her birthday. She had no plans - nothing. She absolutely hated her birthday. It reminded her of all the things she had lost. Well, today I'm 18.

She looked at herself in the glass, her clear reflection staring back at her. She was thin, and overall looked gaunt, in her opinion. That's what happens when you workout too much on no food at all. Food was expensive in this part of town. She could usually afford it, but nothing made her regret more than seeing the less fortunate on the streets. She helped them out whenever and wherever she could, but it left her with little to live on. She was okay with that though.

She felt like a lost cause, a pathetic dread for all things in life. Nothing to live for. Except the next fight. I'm addicted too. Ugh. Life wasn't always like this - there was once a time she was comfortable around others. It was no longer so.

Xena couldn't help but long for that life. A life of happiness and friendship. Nowadays, she kept herself on her toes always moving - always staying alive. In her profession, one could not be too careful.

Pulling out the few photographs she had, she sat down on the bed. She glanced at her parents' photo. Their wedding, she decided.

She set aside the photo and looked at another one. It showed a small Xena - maybe 7 years old - smiling, standing along side with her older brother and older sister. They smiled too although her older brother York had that devilish smirk on his face as if he knew some inside secret prank misfortune that would later befall the photographer.

Her older sister Zoe was tall and pale, her dirty blonde hair perfectly smooth as it fell to mid back. Her brother was the tallest - although Zoe was the oldest - and he shared the same chocolate brown hair Xena had. All three siblings had the same golden eyes as their mother, something that struck people as odd. People often found their eyes unnerving.

Her third photo showed a beautiful, sweet, young boy - maybe 5 years old - holding a hawk. York's son.

The next photo had twins - one boy and one girl - sitting on the beach. They were Zoe's kids; they were nearly 10 now - Xena didn't know where they were because, well...

Zoe was dead.

York was gone.

And Xena was utterly alone.

She sat, staring at the photos, tears threatening to fall. The memories had come crashing down on her. They always did on her birthday. She shook her head. Not today, not this time.

Digging through her pack, Xena pulled out her key. It pulsed strongly, and she locked the clasp, securing the necklace around her neck. I'm never alone. That was the thing about the photos. Each and every person, from Zoe to York's son, wore a key. Each had a gold gem that glowed bright in the photos. She was finally with them now. They'd never leave her.

As she searched through her pack, her hand brushed up against something. Xena froze. She pulled out the paper and unfolded it slowly. Her eyes darted across the scrawl of handwriting before she finally put the paper down. Shit! She had work to do.