Would you write something where Thena is terrified of something. So afraid that she crawls away and cries. Maybe she had some kind of hallucination that can be associated with Mahd Wy'ry. Gil tries to calm her down.
Thena turned down another of the Domo's many winding halls. She was trying to walk the restlessness from her body. It was a routine she was well familiar with--walking in hopes of finding sleep. She just had too much on her mind.
"Thena."
She froze, refusing to turn.
"You poor thing."
She would not look at it. She would not.
"You're broken, Thena."
She clamped her throat closed, although her hands started to shake. She scolded herself; she was the Warrior Eternal. She would not be intimidated by some spectre.
"Damaged," the ghostly voice whispered to her, "useless."
"No," she mumbled, defending herself against an enemy that wasn't even there. Her shoulders trembled.
"No?" That deep timbre that shook her head and rattled her nervous system--it echoed around her, just like in that cave. "You're not?"
"No," she whispered, her feet rooted to the spot.
The whispers of her enemy bounced off the corners and glided over the smooth metal walls around her. "Is that what Gilgamesh would think?"
Her throat was dry, like when they first landed in Australia. "No, he-"
"How would you know?"
She blinked; a silhouette at the end of the hall took a step toward her. Fear flooded her body, experienced so seldom it was unfamiliar to her.
"You got him killed," the silhouette tilted its head at her, its hands changing shape in front of her eyes, "after all."
"No," she stumbled back, just one step at first, then two. "I-I didn't."
"You didn't?" that monster taunted her, raising its fist with a gentle, golden glow to it. "You didn't...stand there?"
"No," she whispered again, her voice high and tight with the tears coming to her eyes. She stumbled and fell back. "Please."
"You didn't watch?" Her hunter continued, no pity for the poor creature on the ground, dragging itself away. "As I lifted him off the ground, drained him of his powers?"
"Gil," Thena choked out as she felt her palms on the cold of the Domo floor. She wasn't in the Amazon, she wasn't in danger. This was all in her head.
"You got your poor Gilgamesh killed, Thena." That monster was right behind her--always. When she tried to sleep, whenever she was alone with her thoughts. This thing would come and sing its cruel song to her. "Protecting a Warrior who can't even fight."
"Gil," she snivelled again, repeating his name as the only thing that could help her cling to sanity. Her sweet Gilgamesh, the man with whom she had built an entire life--lifetimes upon lifetimes, together.
"Gil is dead, Thena," the beast asserted, slapping its claw on the floor at her feet. The sound of it rattled her brain. "And it's because of you!"
"No," she repeated, shaking her head. Her brain felt like it was on fire. "No, I-"
"Thena."
That voice--this was the voice she hated to hear the most in times like these. Because it was perfect. It was perfect, and sweet, but it was wrong.
"Thena," Gilgamesh's voice called from behind her, "look at me."
She shook her head, resuming her pain fraught journey back to safety. She couldn't look at him; it was only going to horrify her.
"Thena," his voice repeated more harshly. He would never speak to her like that. "Thena, look at what you did!"
"No," she whimpered, coming to a stop outside the room where his body - his silent, sleeping body - lay. She didn't drag herself inside. She didn't want the sanctity of his actual sleeping form to mix with the ugliness her mind could conjure.
"This is your fault!"
Thena curled up in a ball, holding her arms around her head like a child. She couldn't remember ever being a child, but perhaps it was something like this. She shook her head.
"Look at me!" the monster roared at her, using Gilgamesh's voice.
She knew that if she looked at it, it would present her with Gilgamesh's dead visage. Sometimes it made his corpse look truly desecrated, just to really scare her. It would spew hateful words, make her see things she yearned to forget.
"Why, Thena? Didn't I care for you?" the ghost pleaded with her. "Why did you let me die like that?!"
Thena shook her head again, holding herself through the barrage of taunts the way she would a windstorm back home. She shook. "He would never..."
"Thena!" it bellowed, slamming the wall on either side of her head. The sound of it seemed so real--real enough to send crackles down her spine.
She squeezed her eyes shut, "Gilgamesh would never say that."
No, he wouldn't. It was just her own mind saying these things. It was her own guilt showing her this monster, and these sights that never happened. It was just herself saying these terribly cruel things.
"He'd never," she repeated to herself, curled up as her only defense against the spectre of her own making. "Gilgamesh is kind."
"He's dead!"
"He's sweet," she whispered to herself, hoping that her own voice would sound more real than the wailing and slamming of the ghost she had conjured. "He would never."
"What wouldn't I?"
Thena lifted her head, seeing no ghost in front of her. She tilted her head further up, blinking. "Gil?"
He looked down at her, leaning against the doorway slightly.
She stood slowly, tilting her head at him. She raised her hand, and instead of passing through him, her fingers met the familiar warmth of his chest. "It's you."
He didn't question it, didn't ask what she had been crying about. He held her hand in his, "it's me."
She leaned forward, pushing her face into his chest and inhaling. He smelled like Australia--like home. Or maybe it was the other way around; maybe Australia smelled like home because of him.
Gil simply held her, rubbing her back and whispering sweet nothings into her hair.
She urged him back towards the bed, "you shouldn't be up."
He grunted as she helped lower him back down. "I've been asleep for weeks, haven't I?"
"Not that long," she chided him, although it had to be said that she was indulging him, based on the smile on her face. "You're still healing."
He snatched her hand before she could pull it all the way back. He unfurled her fingers and pressed her palm to his heart, "I'm here, though."
She let the beat of his heart ripple through her skin and settle into her brain. This was his heart, alive and beating. Gilgamesh was alive, no matter what that ghost had to say about it. "You're here."
"Right here," he repeated, staring up at her. "Y'know, there's room in here for two."
She laughed, and Gilgamesh's face released all its tension. "I have a ship to command, I'll have you know. And saying there's room for two in these beds might be generous."
Gil let out a loud sigh as she parted with him, leaving his hand on his chest, "I seem to recall we made it work, back in the day."
Thena lingered by the door, casting her shadow over him. "I seem to recall that even with me on top of you, it was a tight squeeze."
He grinned at her, "good thing I like squeezing you, then."
She laughed again, and the cold of the hallway got a little warmer on her back. "Rest, Gilgamesh."
He tilted his head on the pillow. He was still weak, resting after his near brush with death. But his eyes were soft, "g'night, hon. I'll see you when I wake up?"
She nodded, automatically pursing her lips to kiss him in reflex to what he would say every night in their bed back home. "See you then."
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