So, this is my first go of a story when I return. New fandom, new style. I've been roleplaying a lot, and this is what happens, I suppose. Do review. I'd like to know how people like it, or if there's anything I can do to clean it up a bit. Thanks guys, and much love.

~Silver

He still sees the look on her face even now, weeks afterwards it happened. The way that she slowly turned towards him, eyes wide. Face shattered and paled. And then how she swallowed and put her shoulders back, those same eyes going cold as he spoke. Like she always does. Hawke is nothing but put together at all times.

Now he sits in a camp bed, probably closer to a cot. The patients he had healed in that rattrap Darktown probably slept in better. Alone, he braces his boots on the wooden floor, watching as it sways to the gentle laps of the sea. He feels a little claustrophobic in the tight room, but he doesn't want to go outside on the deck quite yet. Maybe never.

"We'll be fugitives together."

He remembers her voice like it was yesterday, as cliché as it sounds to him. He lets out a chuckle with no mirth. The second Meredith kneeled frozen on the ground, he saw Hawke stood there. Frozen and proud, glaring at any Templar that dared near her.

Then all he saw was her back as she walked away.

It had been simple for her to operate when Meredith was a threat. He is a mage. She isn't. Merrill had blood magic, and was therefore unreliable for that situation. She had several reasons to spare his life, even subtracting the obvious. Even with the Chantry just gone in an instant and one bright light, she prided herself on being able to handle any situation until it was over. Her mother. Bethany. Carver. She's strong; she knows that much.

Her stomach isn't used to the terrors of sea. Even with the gentle patterns now, she fidgets with the feeling of having her throat yanked down and her stomach tossed up. She wraps one arm around herself as she stares at the door. Wonders what he's doing, what he's thinking now. Probably that her words before the battle are empty now, but she can't pretend that everything would be the same. It wouldn't ever again.

She had talked to Isabela, and she agreed to take them both on ship to Ferelden. It was easier to run on sea.

She didn't expect Anders to agree. And she doesn't know if she's grateful or not.

There has to be something in Ferelden that can be done, and it couldn't be a bad idea to lay low for a little while anyway. Justice seethes in a boiling rage inside, but Anders ignores him and stares at the blank cabin wall. The dark wood itself holds nothing interesting, but there isn't much else to do unless he feels like being brave. Why is it hard to be brave now? She probably isn't on the dock.

He then looks at his hands, and notices they are shaking. He stands up, and that feeling- just knowing she's there, possibly thinking about him in regards to Maker knows what... he clenches his eyes shut before opening them again. He leaves his staff, because he can't imagine anything would come up now. Even if this is Hawke he's talking about.

She taps on her knees and thinks. Anders probably has a spell for sea sickness, and if he doesn't, he had to be used to being on the run all the time. Hawke closes her eyes. What would her mother think? Bethany would have the news by now. Grey Wardens always had news the moment they wanted it. Her stomach seizes, not entirely because of the ocean, and she slowly stands up. She needs air. She needs to think about all of this. She takes one step, and wavers from the motion before she grabs onto her bearings again. Never wants to let go, but she knows she will at one point.

She takes a few more before reaching the door, and it pleases her that she barely wavers this time. She opens the door, and the cold air hits her in a concussive cloud. It clings to her skin, but it shocks her stomach into silence. With that same deliberate movement, Hawke makes her way out onto the deck.

She stops when she sees Isabela, and the other woman storms up the side of the ship with just a nod in Hawke's direction. Hawke has to wonder for a second how Isabela does it, walks like there is nothing beneath her, just like she's on land. Hawke pushes these thoughts out and follows her.

"Is there a problem?" Hawke calls after her.

"No, no." Isabela doesn't turn to face her. "Just idiots who don't know port side from starboard." She pauses for a moment, putting a hand on a hip. Thinking, perhaps. "Probably not the bow from the stern, either," she adds as an afterthought and continues to walk. "I have no idea why I hired them."

Hawke doesn't mention that she's fuzzy on the nautical terms herself. "Can they keep us on course?"

Isabela sighs, and this time when she stops, she turns around. Hawke watches her eyes with scrutiny, but for once, Isabella must feel like giving nothing away. "I'll throw them overboard if they don't," she says, and Hawke is relieved to see her old humor. "They're just struggling with directions. That's all."

Hawke can't stop herself from saying "Are they mostly men?"

Isabela lets out a derisive snort. "How sharp of you."

She disappears around the corner, and Hawke is alone again.

He hears Hawke and Isabella talking, and he relies on instinct rather than Justice to slow to a halt and listen. Justice, as always, grumbles about this. "You don't have to respect her privacy anymore," he says. "You can't trust her."

"She supports mages," Anders murmurs. "That's enough. She'll help us."

"She's a liar," Justice replies. "'We'll be fugitives together.' Obviously she didn't know what she was talking about."

Anders doesn't reply. That's something he still can't make sense out of. Hawke is with him, yes, but how far? Does she even know?

"I can hear your thoughts, you know," Justice says. "I can feel you doubting her. All the time."

"Justice, this is the one time I'll say this," Anders says. "Shut up."

He can feel a spike of anger, but Justice says nothing more. He hears Isabela's boots on the dock, and knows she is walking away. There isn't a second sound, which means Hawke must be still there. His stomach clenches and his throat tightens. It had always been hard to breathe around her. It is just about impossible now.

His boots tap the deck as he walks, leaving his safe place. He sees a shadow shift. Hawke is nothing more than a dark silhouette standing out in the night that turns gray under starlight. It makes nothing easier.

She doesn't say a word when he stops next to her, and her face clears in his eyes. Full of sharp angles, framed by hair wisps that lengthen into a low ponytail, and harsh blue eyes that the darkness hides. Her expression is carefully neutral, one that Anders hates right now.

"Isabella can get us to Ferelden?" he breathes, and he's not half as interested in her answer as he is in her voice. Any sign of life.

For a moment he thinks she's going to spite him. He shifts to prepare to leave. Then she dips her head forward in a nod. "Yes."

She can hear his approach, but she prays it isn't him anyway. Her thoughts are too chaotic even on their own. It is him, and she can't pretend it isn't. His boots are a telltale sign, and out of her peripherals, it IS Anders' height. His presence sends electricity down her cells until they sink to bone. She hopes she isn't breathing faster. She can't tell.

"Isabella can get us to Ferelden?" His voice is so quiet that she wonders for an instant if her hearing shot itself in so many battles. But she knows it's there. Her skin prickles, and the cold air doesn't matter anymore. A warmth that felt like a blush to her rose through her arms and through her body.

She nods. "Yes." Her voice is as quiet as his. She doesn't know what to say. Can she say anything? Nothing could be the same, not after… she forces the explosion out of her mind. The people she chose to lose and the people who she would have never chosen but lost anyway. Hawke squeezes her eyes shut before she opens them again. This is easy. She just had to protect mages.

"I want to go to Lothering first." She's astonished that her voice is so steady. "I realize there are always mages in need of assistance everywhere, but I need to see home."

"Okay."

She's surprised he gives in so quickly, but is grateful nonetheless. "Thank you."

His hand nears hers on the dock, but the two do not touch. She wishes she could explain everything, but she doubts she can explain it to herself. She ignores the dull aching that exists everywhere. She feels it all the time.

"I got letters from mages in Ferelden," Anders begins.

Hawke cuts him off. "How? I doubt you have much room for postage." She regrets speaking so much.

Anders's laugh is mirthless. "I've been wanted for something or other all my life. This isn't different."

Hawke sighs. She could continue with that thread, but doesn't. "What did the letters say?"

She sees movement from his shoulders. "Most mentioned you," he says. "You're a hero for mages everywhere, as you know."

He's avoiding the topic of the Chantry. She rocks back on her heels. She feels like there's daggers in her throat.

"A group of apostates say they've been sighted in their hiding spot, south of Denerim," he says. "Could we go there next?"

Hawke nods. "Okay." She doesn't realize she just reflected him.

A silence falls between them. Hawke looks up at the star-ridden sky. She wants to be nowhere else, but Anders had been right, all those years ago when he said this would only bring disaster.

Then again, he's right only when the situation breaches on catastrophic. She sighs. She wishes her chest would stop pounding. At this rate, he'll hear it.

The next thing he remembers is stepping outside, the sun barely peaking through the ocean and the hill-crested landscape. Land. He scrambles down the dock, seeing that the ship was beginning to dock. Thank the Maker. Hawke wasn't the only one beginning to get seasick.

The ship rolled to a gentle halt.

She steps off the boat, not sure what she wants to see. Lothering is still a long ways off, so she isn't surprised when she sees grassland reaching out like the ocean. She sees unnatural light in the distance, and for the first time on this journey, Anders isn't on her mind.

She just wants to go home.