Three days later was a near miss; this bandit-sorcerer hybrid had been terrorizing the surrounding countryside, always half a damn step ahead of them. Amelia was fully recovered now, and had found she grew impatient where Gourry would not. The somber trio sat at the warped table, the wood scarred and bleached to a bony gray under the tattered place settings. It was colder today, and they were huddled near the fireside. Well. Amelia huddled, at any rate. Zelgadis-san just drank his coffee (one glimmer of a broken life that she was grateful to cling to) and Gourry-san slowly and methodically ate the bread and cheese before him. Not seeming to feel hunger. Not seeming to feel cold. Just.. not seeming to feel. This lack of everything made her nervous and edgy, like she'd had too much of Zelgadis-san's coffee, but she dared not explode.
Once and only once had she commented on Justice, unthinkingly, the sight of Gourry-san's large frame silhouetted in the dusk as he looked at what had been the camp of the killer they sought. The fire still smoldered, even. But the man himself was gone. And Amelia's nervous frustration had started with "The Unjust know no -- " before she had strangled the damning words in her throat. Gourry had not said a word, though Zelgadis-san had stepped a bit closer to her. He had just turned and looked it at her with dead eyes a rictus in his soul, and she had wanted to cry. For the loss and for accidentally twisting a blood-stained knife.
She really wasn't sure what to make of this whole situation. It was like her mother and her sister all over again; as though some taint of the never-spoken of life before her traveling companions had some how leaked through. But that was hardly a realistic thought, the small girl shivered, and gave herself a headaches as her torn and confused mind tried ceaselessly to make sense of Lina's death, to somehow force the ends to meet. Why had some faceless wannabe been able to triumph where dark lords and demons alike had not?!
One hand held the bread, the other crumpled in the fabric of the cloak knotted at his thinning waist. Zelgadis studied the swordsman with out seeming to, a master of the indirect stare. More than once in the past month had he tried to pry that damn scrap of cloth away from Gourry. And every time Gourry's response had grown more and more violent. Childishly he would tug it back and yell, the only times Zelgadis seemed to see any life flare up in his now crystalline eyes. He was like an angry and very strong three year old unaware of his own frightening capabilities; swinging punches and his eyes rolling around terribly. Zelgadis had given up when Gourry had gone for his sword.
Gourry carried that tortured bit of cloth in his tunic, Zel also knew, over his heart, like a burnt promise, and now the sweet young man who was impossible to dislike -- Zelgadis had tried more than once -- just looked indifferently out on the world through frozen, fractured eyes. The handsome face grew more and more skeletal, and a bluish tint rimmed the edges of his lips, as though Gourry at times forgot to breathe. One more bite and he dropped the rest of the bread, leaving it and most of the cheese where it lay on his plate.
"I'm going to bed."
And he was gone, treading metronomically up the stairs, moving to one side to let a little boy with bright red hair skip down the steps. Not a word did he speak to the child, not a motion that he saw other than to keep his much larger mass from knocking the child over. He stood frozen on the stairs for a moment, and then continued his even, measured tread. The little boy had engaging gold eyes, and ran over to his laughing father. His laughing blond father. Zelgadis put his cup down and closed his eyes. This was not right.
The sound of the door shutting softly seemed to echoed in a finely timed rhythm of sound in Zel and Amelia's hearing. Finely tuned hearing caught and replaced it with the alteration of Amelia's breathing, going from it's normal soft relaxation and contraction. to jagged, harsh gulps. Zelgadis looked at her and felt panic blossom on a choking weed in his solar plexus. At her fisted hands she stared, her breath in those gasping convulsions, and tears rimmed her indigo sight in a growing ocean that threatened to flood. She was trying to hold it back -- or maybe it was just so big she couldn't get it all out -- and an unseeing grimace contorted her small features.
"Amelia.. please don't..." His unintentionally harsh whisper seemed to yank at her trigger all the more; a muffled screech and she buried her face in jerking hands.
The blond man and his small son played on.
"Amelia.. Amelia..!" Zel scooted his chair over to hers in a squeal, uncharacteristically graceless, and grasped her shoulders between his hands. "Please Amelia! Please! Don't!!" Comparatively, they were actually making very little noise; Amelia a series of muffled squeaks as she tried to throttle this out burst and force it dormant until she could at LEAST be alone, and Zelgadis no more than low frantic whispers. He brushed the strands of dark hair out of her covering hands, tucking them behind her ears and arranging the strands as they lay on her scalp, frantic little movements that hinted at something bigger driving them. Little touches seeking comfort. Amelia looked up at him, hunched in and shoulders heaving. Zelgadis' own eyes swam, her break down forcing his, and a loss of face in public was a tangible blow to Zelgadis-san, she knew. He continued the frantic arranging, pulling her painfully a few times, but she did nothing to stop him.
"Let's go for a walk, okay?" She nodded, and let him pull her to her feet, escorting her to the door and out into the frigid night.
At the window Gourry watched them leave, a tiny and dulled part of him glad to see them together. Seeing them didn't hurt so much anymore. Nothing did. Nothing mattered, but it was probably good that they were together. The dying man left the window and fell heavily to the bed, the springs whimpering in protest at his weight, and he closed his always tired eyes, the cloak pulled securely about his neck and shoulders. He crossed his ankles and drew his knees up to his chest, sliding into his dreams. It was the only thing he could do with any ease anymore.
It was cold and dark and they just stared at each other, Lina a little closer, unmoving. Then a the sound of her voice in a shriek.. "JELLYFISH!!" It was an echo; her mouth never moved. Then it was a high whining scream that ended too suddenly. And all he could do was stare...
She began to bleed. Small rivulets that joined into a red estuary, flowing towards him, and he was glad as it touched his body and was absorbed by his clothes, glad for the first time in forever, because it was a piece of her, and maybe, just maybe on this flat plain with the broken girl, if he picked up enough pieces of her he could put her back together somehow.......
Morning came against his wishes, and Zelgadis was quite impatient by the time he was able to drag the swordsman from bed. Gourry sat, bleary and heavy eyed, even after almost ten hours of sleep as Zel bustled around him, handing armor which was sleepily accepted and strapped on automatically. The bed creaked a quiet word as Gourry got up, having not even taken off his boots when he had gone to sleep the night before.
"I don't know why I bother with wearing this anymore." Gourry said flatly. He was gone by the time Zelgadis could round on him, angry and sharp words in his mouth. Zel stood and stared down and the miscellaneous buckle left over in his hand. This had to end. For his sake, it had to end. Even stone broke eventually, and he felt full of minute cracks than ran all through him. Amelia was breaking down more and more and... it had to end. Gourry.. was unraveling. And it was coming faster and faster now, the thread of his being pulled away, still connected to Lina.
And Zel couldn't decide if that was bad or good.
The road got longer and longer, Amelia reflected as she trudged. It had started to snow. She didn't want to WALK in the snow. This trip.. it had become bad and now was worse, everything gray and skewed and unpleasant, like Lina-san's death had blown out the candle in their lives.
And not having anything to bury....
......not being able to grieve.....
Oh Lina-san....
"Now cracks a noble heart."
-- Hamlet, Act 5 Scene 2