Author's Note: Welcome to my first Syrenne/Lowell fic! I can't begin to explain how much I love this pairing and writing for them; I have so many ideas for them and I really hope I manage to get them all written up as fics at some point. This one is set just after the gang escape from The Last World and just before the epilogue; I'm thinking that at least a few days passed between beating Zangurak and sending the outsider home, so this fic will be concentrating on what happens with Syrenne and Lowell in those few days, and beyond that as well.

So, without further ado, I hope you enjoy!

Lowell

The atmosphere was so very strange that evening. Ariela's Tavern, usually filled with noise and laughter and happiness, was quiet and subdued; more so than it had ever been before. They were all there to celebrate, and yet it felt like they should be mourning. On the one hand, they had defeated Zangurak, restored peace to the world and stopped the land's decay. Lowell was alive, and Zael and Calista were able to look forward to a bright, prosperous new future. But all of this had come at a cost; one which the mercenaries felt keenly. They had lost Dagran; their mentor, their leader and their friend. Not only had they lost him, but they were the ones who had had to fight him. They were the ones who had had to defeat him and kill him. Zael, especially, was struggling to deal with the fact that the death of the man he'd once considered to be a brother was the price he'd had to pay for his and his friends' happiness.

Lowell sat at a table by the door, feeling more than a little uncomfortable. Whilst the others had gone on ahead to fight Zangurak and then face Dagran, Lowell had, for all intents and purposes, been lying dead after taking a sword to the chest that had been meant for Syrenne. If it hadn't been for the fact that Dagran's spirit had revived him, he wouldn't even be here now. Consequently, he hadn't been there to see what had become of the man he'd once looked up to. He hadn't been there to feel the sting of betrayal and pain that the others had all experienced. And so he was at a loss when it came to what exactly he was supposed to be feeling. Should he be angry at the man who was the sole reason he was alive now? Or should he mourn instead for a man who had thrown away the bonds of friendship and had used them all as pawns in his lust for power? None of it made any sense. Lowell supposed that the others felt the same way, but it was still different for them. He figured that if he'd been there with them and seen everything happen, he might have had an idea of how he truly felt, but because he hadn't actually been there, all he felt was numbness and confusion. He couldn't get any closure.

He cast a glance around the tavern at the others. Mirania stood talking quietly with Ariela, trying to explain everything that had happened whilst mindful of the fact that young Warren was sitting beside her on a bar stool, listening eagerly for the tales of brave, strong mercenaries that he so adored. Yurick leaned against the wall not too far away with a sombre expression on his face as he, too, listened to the conversation.

Zael and Calista were a little apart from the gathering of people in the centre of the tavern, standing in the far corner and talking in low voices. They were gripping each other's hands tightly and only looking into each other's eyes. Poor Zael looked so torn apart, and Calista would be trying to console him, Lowell knew, though there was nothing she could say that would ease his pain.

He finally picked out Syrenne, stood near the stairs with her arms crossed, one hand clutching a tankard of ale that she sipped from repeatedly. She wasn't looking at anyone or anything in particular, seemingly lost in thought as she stared ahead.

If I could go back in time, I still would have done it, Lowell thought to himself as he watched her. He'd have taken a hundred swords to the chest if that was what it would have taken to save her, even if it still meant not being there with the others when they fought Dagran.

They still hadn't really spoken about it or acknowledged it. There hadn't been time. There were those few moments just after he'd been revived, when she'd fallen into his arms, sobbing with relief, and he'd held her tightly and told her not to cry. But then they'd all been running and fighting for their lives, and when everything had finally come to an end and they were safe, they had come here to celebrate their freedom. Syrenne hadn't spoken to him, or even looked at him, since; though she'd treated everyone the same way. He knew she was trying not to let them see what she was feeling; she hated the thought of anyone pitying her.

Suddenly she glanced in his direction and they met each other's gaze briefly. No emotion showed on her face, but when Lowell slowly got to his feet with the intention of walking over to her, she immediately slammed her tankard down on the nearest table and went upstairs, taking two steps at a time. Mirania turned her head at the sudden movement, and Lowell gave her a shrug and a weak smile. She gave him a sympathetic look in return before turning back to Ariela and Warren, and Lowell sighed before following Syrenne upstairs.

She was stood just inside the room she shared with Mirania, her back to the open door. Lowell hovered on the landing for a moment before hesitantly stepping inside; she must have heard him enter, but she didn't turn around. Clearing his throat, he spoke somewhat cautiously. "Syrenne?"

For a moment there was no reply, and then she turned to face him; angry green eyes glaring at him. He loved her eyes and always had done; they seemed to change with her mood, and looking into them was like peeking at her soul. But he rather preferred them when they were calm, and not looking as though she were trying to fry him to a crisp on the spot. What was it he'd done wrong, anyway? Why on earth could she have reason to be angry with him? The world was saved, he was alive and everything was how it should be. So shouldn't she be happier?

"Why did you do it?" she demanded of him suddenly, her voice sharp and harsh. "Why, Lowell?"

He took another careful step towards her, trying to avoid meeting her brilliant emerald stare. "Any chance you'd care to elaborate?" he asked her lightly. "Why did I do what, in particular?"

The glare intensified. "You know what I mean," Syrenne snapped. "Answer the question."

Lowell sighed, risking a look at her face. She was beautiful, even when she was angry. "Well... if you're referring to what I think you're referring to... I wouldn't have thought there'd be any need to ask the question in the first place," he murmured. "I did what was necessary."

"I'm not some bloody damsel in distress, Lowell," Syrenne shot back at him, narrowing her eyes and folding her arms. "I don't need saving, or protecting. I can take care of myself."

"Might I remind you that that sword was heading straight for you?" Lowell countered. "There was no time for you to 'take care of yourself'. You couldn't have dodged it, or blocked it; it was going to hit you. What was I supposed to do; watch you die?"

He'd said the wrong thing. He knew it the second the words left his lips.

"You mean like I had to watch you die?!" Syrenne cried, and Lowell saw her shaking with the effort of keeping the tears that had suddenly sprung to her eyes from spilling over. She's going to cry again, he thought distantly to himself.

Lowell could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen Syrenne cry in the time that he'd known her. Three, in total. The first time was when he'd come round after being knocked unconscious by the Gurak, and she'd literally thrown herself into his arms, sobbing like a baby, when she realised he would be all right. The second time was when he'd died for real, and the third was when he'd been revived. Only three times, and they were all related to him. He wondered what exactly that meant, and where it left them. Did she really feel that strongly for him? And, for that matter, what was it he felt for her? Love? Perhaps, he mused. He'd thought about it quite a lot recently, but he'd tried to push those same thoughts out of his mind almost as soon as they occurred. Love was dangerous territory for him, and it was best to ignore the idea altogether. But this was Syrenne... he might be reluctant to call his feelings for her 'love', but really, what else could he call it? He'd died for her, after all, and would do it again if he had to. If it wasn't love, what was it?

He was pulled from his thoughts by a stifled sob, and he looked back at Syrenne. She'd turned away again, most likely to hide the fact that she was crying from him. If this was any other time, he'd most likely have teased her about it, but the only thing he wanted to do at that moment was comfort her. He took a few more slow steps towards her until he was stood behind her, and then rested a hand lightly on her shoulder, intending to turn her back towards him, but she moved to face him anyway. True enough, there were teardrops clinging to her cheeks, and Lowell felt something inside him twinge at the sight. Someone as beautiful as she was should never cry.

He raised a hand silently and brushed gently at her cheeks with his finger, wiping away the tears. She didn't make a move, letting him continue until he'd finished, her eyes looking straight into his.

"I thought you were dead," she whispered after a moment, new teardrops threatening to re-trace the path of the old ones. "I thought... I thought you'd gone, and left me behind... What was I supposed to do without you?" Her voice trembled as she spoke, and Lowell gave her a sad smile.

"You were supposed to live, you silly woman," he said, trying to stop her crying and lighten the mood. "You didn't need me to do that."

"Shut up," Syrenne said furiously, and Lowell blinked in surprise when he realised she'd grabbed him by the arms. "Don't you dare joke about it. You have no idea what it did to me when your heartbeat stopped. Not the slightest idea."

Lowell stared down at her fierce, intense expression. For a moment he had no idea what to say. Slowly, his hand came up to rest against her cheek, and she didn't stop him.

Suddenly he heard footsteps, and they both turned to the door to see Mirania stood with an apologetic look on her face as she looked first at Lowell and then at Syrenne.

"I... I'm sorry to interrupt," she said hesitantly. "I just wanted to make sure everything was all right."

Syrenne pulled back from Lowell abruptly, her skin slightly flushed. She gave him a quick glance before looking back at Mirania. "Everything's fine," she muttered, and then hurried out of the room without a second glance at anyone else.

Lowell watched her go, undecided whether or not to follow her, but then he sighed in resignation and turned back to Mirania. "Well... that went smoothly."

Author's Note: Hope you liked that! Please review if you have a moment and stick around for the next chapter if you enjoyed the first!