AN: I do not own The Slayers, I just play in the sandbox.
It was dark by the time that Lina and Gourry had made it back to their inn. Gourry's feet felt heavy as he walked up the stairs. It had been a long, frustrating, and agonizing day. And it had all started with a fight that had been so much like so many others they had fought. But unlike so many others, one of theirs was left mortally wounded. The rest of the day had been spent trying to save Milina. Even after Lina and Gourry had left Milina with Luke at the North Temple, they continued to canvass the town, trying to find someone who could perform Resurrection, or knew of an antidote, just someone who could save their friend.
But when they returned to the North Temple empty handed Milina was dead and Luke was gone. There was nothing they could do. And just like that, a talented ally and friend was gone.
And yet, even as he mourned Milina and worried about Luke, he kept thanking his lucky stars that it was not Lina.
He watched Lina openly as they reached the top of the staircase. His room was first, and to his great relief she stopped by his door as he found his key and unlocked it. He did not want her out of sight tonight. He opened the door and motioned for her to go in first. She did and waited by the doorframe as he closed the door behind him as he crossed the room in a few strides and sat on the couch. He waited for her to break the silence, but she didn't.
Gourry struggled to think of something comforting to say. But the words stuck in his throat, crushed under the weight of the overwhelming emotions he was feeling. If he said anything just then, he was certain his voice would crack. He needed to be strong. So he remained silent.
Lina also made no move to speak. She stood there as she gripped one arm with her other hand, holding herself, as she wore an unusually lost looking expression. He thought about the long night ahead and how he did not want her to go. And she did not seem to want to leave. Her vulnerability was so uncharacteristically laid bare before him and screamed for an invitation. Still unable to bring himself to speak, he patted the empty space beside him on the couch as he looked into her eyes and hoped that they would speak for him. She moved so fast she was practically a blur as she curled up beside him. She was so tiny she managed to curl the whole of her body into the remaining space of the couch, the crown of her head touching his outer thigh.
He exhaled in relief. The truth that they would spend the night like this rose in his mind. Gently he moved his hand so it was resting on the valley of her waist. Something about the way her body quivered told him she was crying. But still, beneath his hand she was warm and firm and alive. But still, like all humans, so vulnerable to a blade or poison or any of the other ways that a person could be killed. He never understood it when people said they could not imagine going through a trauma. He could. He hated to think about how lost and desolate he would feel if Lina died. The possibility was his worst nightmare. It was now what Luke was living. Then Gourry felt guilty that he was relieved. Milina was strong, competent, and a good person who deserved far better than the death she found.
Gourry closed his eyes and focused on Lina's breathing to take his thoughts away from his emotions. He wasn't sure how much time passed until she went still and her breathing evened out. But it was only then that he allowed his own tears to fall as he mourned one friend, worried over another and thanked whoever was listening that it was not Lina.