Author's Note: Sorry I've been a bit slow in posting this chapter; I've been working a lot and had to get past a bout of writer's block. But now I have a fairly clear idea of what the next few chapters will be, so I should be able to get chapter 3 up sooner. As always, thanks for reading and special thanks to everyone who reviewed; all of you were so nice and you've really inspired me to keep going with this. Enjoy!

Syrenne

As she signalled to Ariela to get her another tankard of beer, Syrenne stared down bleary-eyed at the surface of the bar. She tried to think exactly how many beers she'd had so far, but every time she tried to count it made her head swim and she gave up. It had been her intention that evening to get absolutely hammered, to the point where her future memories of that night would be hazy at best, and so far she was doing a stellar job of it. For Syrenne, memories usually went hand-in-hand with sadness, betrayal and pain, and the memories of all that had happened that day in particular were memories she did not want to keep; therefore, she was relying on her old friend alcohol to lull her into a peaceful, dreamless sleep, from which she would wake in the morning feeling cleansed of everything; Zangurak, Dagran... Lowell...

Him especially, Syrenne thought to herself with a scowl as she snatched the tankard up as soon as Ariela placed it down in front of her. "Bloody bastard," she muttered to herself before taking a long drink.

"Let me guess... Lowell?" Ariela smiled as she came to stand opposite the mercenary, and Syrenne glanced up at her.

"How did you know?" she sighed, swirling the liquid around the tankard before taking another sip.

Ariela laughed. "I doubt anyone could say something like that about Zael, or Yurick," she pointed out. "And... well... it's not the first time I've heard you call Lowell that." Syrenne's scowl deepened, and Ariela's smile faltered. "Mirania told me about... about what he did. It sounds... very romantic."

Syrenne's answering laugh was bitter as she looked up at the other woman again. "Romantic? It wasn't romantic! It was stupid. He's stupid." She drank again until she'd finished the entire drink in record time and set the tankard back down on the bar. "Everything's stupid," she finished petulantly, and Ariela raised an eyebrow.

"Oh dear... things are that bad between you and him, are they?" Ariela asked as she poured Syrenne another drink and set it down in front of her. "It's a shame, you know; I always thought you two would make a good couple."

Syrenne was about to reply with an indignant denial of that last remark when she heard footsteps behind her, and she turned to see Zael and Calista coming towards them.

"Calista and I are going back to the castle," Zael said quietly when they reached Syrenne and Ariela. "We wanted to say goodbye to you before we left."

Syrenne could see how tired he was as he tried to smile at the two women; his face was pale and his hand was clutching Calista's tightly, as though he didn't think he'd be able to stand if he let her go. He'd had to go through so much, and losing Dagran the way they had must be nearly tipping him over the edge, Syrenne realised. She'd always thought of Zael as a younger brother, and to see him like this upset her. But he has Calista now, she reminded herself. The young Arganan heiress was strong and brave, traits which Syrenne greatly admired, and she knew Calista would be the best person to help Zael through this tough time.

"And we wanted to thank you, too," Calista added, breaking into Syrenne's thoughts. "Both of you. For... well... for everything." She too gave them a tentative smile, and Syrenne returned it, though both were tinged with a small amount of sadness.

"I'm not sure you should be thanking me, Lady Calista," Ariela said, looking apologetic. "I'm afraid I haven't been able to offer you much help at all."

"Ariela, without you and your father, and your tavern, my friends and I wouldn't have had anywhere safe to stay," Zael pointed out. "We've pretty much taken over this place since we came to Lazulis Island, and you welcomed us with a kindness that most mercenaries don't expect from others. You've given us good food, somewhere to sleep... and most of the contents of your bar," he added, smiling wearily at Syrenne, who stuck her tongue out at him in return before returning his grin. "And... well, without any of that, I doubt we would have had the strength to do everything we've done," Zael continued. "So... thank you, Ariela."

"From the bottom of our hearts," Calista nodded, smiling. "You and your father, and Warren, too, will always be welcome at the castle."

Ariela looked surprised. "I... I don't know what to say... thank you, Lady Calista. And you too, Zael. It's been a pleasure to know you. All of you. And I know my father and Warren would say the same."

Syrenne managed to get down from the bar stool she was perched on and sighed. "Get going back to the castle, both of you, before these little speeches get too mushy. I hate mushy." She fixed Zael with another grin, and he gave her another tired smile.

"Goodnight, Syrenne," he said quietly. "You'll come to the castle tomorrow with the others, won't you?"

"Yes, please do," Calista said eagerly. "You're all very welcome there, whenever you want to visit us. I'd hate for us to lose contact with any of you."

Syrenne patted Zael's arm and smiled. "Of course. Someone's gotta keep an eye on this one, haven't they? Don't want him getting into any more trouble." She paused for a moment, the smile fading from her face. It was almost as though none of them could maintain a happy mood for too long after what had happened; it felt wrong to smile, somehow, like they were betraying Dagran's memory. But then... they had a right to be happy as well, now that they were safe, didn't they? It was all so confusing... "Night Zael," she said finally. "Night, Calista."

"Goodnight Syrenne," Calista said softly, and she and Zael nodded to Ariela before turning to walk from the tavern. Syrenne watched them go, a part of her knowing that things would never be the same again.

After they had left and Ariela had gone to collect glasses from around the tavern, Syrenne turned back to the bar to pick up her tankard, but it had disappeared. She frowned. She hadn't even started to drink that last beer, had she? Ariela had only just served it to her when Zael and Calista had arrived...

"Sorry. Couldn't help myself."

The familiar accent made her groan out loud as she turned to see Lowell taking a seat at the bar, the tankard in his hands. He grinned at her and winked as he raised it to his lips and took a long drink.

"You of all people should know that if anyone dares to even touch my booze, they get their arse kicked from here to the mainland," Syrenne scowled, flopping onto the seat next to him.

Lowell gave her a look of mock innocence. "What, even me?"

"Especially you."

"I get special treatment? I feel positively honoured," Lowell laughed as he set the tankard back down on the bar and pushed it towards Syrenne. She grabbed it immediately and wrapped an arm around it protectively.

"Mine," she said pointedly, narrowing her eyes at him. Lowell threw up his hands in defeat.

"All right, all right; don't get cranky. I would have bought you another anyway, you know."

"Yeah, right. Sure you would have."

"I would have! I'm not a fan of stealing ladies' drinks, but like I say, I couldn't help myself, and... well..." He shrugged nonchalantly, and Syrenne frowned in suspicion.

"Well what?" she demanded of him, and Lowell eyed her as though considering whether he should carry on speaking or not.

"Well... you don't count." His eyes twinkled mischievously.

Syrenne leapt from her seat and thumped his arm before he could say another word, ignoring his yelp of surprise. "Say I'm not a lady one more time and I'll bash you over the head with this barstool," she snapped at him, glaring. Lowell rubbed his arm where she'd hit it, wincing, and then gave her a rakish grin.

"So you're saying you want to be thought of as a lady?" he asked, and Syrenne opened her mouth to reply before closing it again abruptly, scowling as she thought about it. She was no lady, he was right; she hated all those noblewomen with their fancy ballgowns and their airs and graces. She was a mercenary; a warrior.

"No," she muttered, sitting back down in defeat. "But that still doesn't mean you can steal my booze, got it?"

"Got it," Lowell grinned, inclining his head politely. His grin was infectious, and as she looked at him Syrenne couldn't stop a smile spreading across her own face until she found herself laughing hopelessly, and Lowell laughed with her. It felt good; laughing with him like this, instead of the awkward, tense feeling that had existed between them since what had happened earlier that day. Again the thought hit her that she could have been sitting here alone this evening, drinking to Lowell's memory and trying to drown her heartache in alcohol, instead of teasing and bantering with the only man she'd ever felt this close to in her life. Not that she'd admit it to him, of course, but the very real possibility of a life without Lowell in it had shaken her to the core.

The change in her thoughts chased the smile from her face, and she turned away from him, sombre all of a sudden. For a moment, there was silence, and then Lowell spoke.

"So... what happens now?" he asked her hesitantly. Syrenne felt a wave of panic run through her; this was the question she had been dreading ever since they got back from the Last World. What happens now... She made a point of not turning back to look at him; she didn't want him to see how terrified she was of having to answer his question. "We can't just pretend nothing happened, Syrenne," Lowell continued quietly. "And we can't go back to the way things were. Everything's changed now."

That made her turn. "Do you think I don't know that?" she snapped as she whirled round. "Dagran's gone. Count Arganan's dead, which means Calista's probably a Countess or something now, and Zael's going to marry her, which means they'll be staying at the castle. Yurick and Mirania will probably leave too; they've always done their own thing. Our little group of mercenaries isn't a group anymore; everything's changing. And I hate it." She raised her tankard and took a long drink to calm her nerves; change was one of the few things she couldn't deal with, and not being able to deal with something was a weakness in her eyes. The one thing Syrenne hated more than anything else was letting someone see that she was weak in any way.

"You still have me," Lowell replied after a moment, watching her. His expression was solemn but sincere; an expression not normally seen on his face. Syrenne tried not to look at him.

"Yeah, until you find some other girl that takes your fancy and you act the hero for her and get yourself killed for good this time," she muttered. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his expression harden.

"You know, I'm starting to think you'd rather I hadn't saved your life," he said sharply, emphasising the words, and Syrenne felt a little twinge inside her, but she pushed it aside.

"I told you; I'm not a bloody damsel in distress, Lowell; if you want to be the big hero, go and find some other girl to play knights and princesses with, because I won't be playing along." She hadn't meant to sound so harsh, but she felt like she was full to the brim with too many conflicting emotions, and they had to find an outlet somehow. She tried to risk a look at him, but his face was turned away from her. I've gone too far, she thought to herself anxiously. If she pushed Lowell away, she'd have no one. But letting him get too close to her was terrifying...

She heard the barstool scrape against the floor as Lowell pushed it back and got to his feet, and when he spoke she could tell she'd hurt him.

"Very well. If that's how you feel, then I'm going to bed," he said icily, and she hurriedly looked up and opened her mouth to speak but he was already storming towards the stairs.

"Lowell!" she called desperately. "Lowell, please... wait."

He stopped walking, but didn't turn around. Syrenne searched for the right thing to say; she didn't want them to end the night like this. Bickering was fine; it was what they both enjoyed. But arguing was a different matter. "I... I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I don't want to fight." She paused for a moment. "Thank you... for everything. I mean it, Lowell. Thank you."

For a moment he still didn't move, and Syrenne could feel her heart sink, but then he turned and gave her a small smile, and her spirits rose again.

"You're welcome, Syrenne," he said very softly, before nodding his head in farewell and turning to head up the stairs.

As she watched him go, Syrenne could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She'd almost lost him twice that day, and the second time had been her own fault. The thing was, she still wasn't entirely sure how to answer his question, the question that would haunt her and keep her awake that night. What happens now?