Author's Note: I am a horrible person.
Where have I been, you ask? Well, I discovered Assassin's Creed…and played every game in the series through the course of two months. It consumed my life, but now I need something to fill the void until the new one comes out in October, and what better way to do that than to finish my stories? As an apology, I have included what was originally two parts into one chapter. Don't fret, though. There's another chapter in store after this.
If you see room for improvement, please feel free to leave constructive criticism. I love receiving those reviews as much as I love reading the fantastic, flattering ones you have all showered me with.
Anyway, thanks so much for bearing with me. I love each and every one of you for it. On with the story!
Chapter 2: Breaking Through
"Whose bloody brilliant idea was it to leave him alone is such a state?" Carver raged, pacing like a caged animal before his uncle. His fists were clenched at his sides, his eyes darted endlessly around the room. He felt like a madman, and he knew he looked it too. He didn't think he would ever be able to get these images out of his head. How could he? Poor son-of-a-bitch was practically howling at the moon.
Gamlen Amell crossed his arms over his chest, indignant. His salt and pepper hair was in disarray, eyes bloodshot and weary. Probably had a hangover. Some things would never change. "I just checked on him last night, he was fine! Well, not fine, but not like this. The rest of that motley crew of his is off cleaning up messes for him while he recovers his wits. Since that's usually his job, they thought they'd give him a break. I told them to go. That I'd keep an eye on him."
"Then where the hell were you this afternoon when I got here?"
"I didn't realize he needed a twenty-four hour suicide watch! If I had, I would have at least told that elven lover of his to stick around. Fenris, or whatever the bastard's name is. He stops by between missions sometimes to check on him. Usually there are two dwarves here too, but I guess they went to market or something."
Carver stopped pacing and rubbed his face with his hands. "What a mess. What a sodding mess."
"You can say that again. First Leandra, now this. As if I don't have enough to deal with."
Carver stiffened. To call his tone murderous was a vast understatement. "Well if it's such trouble for you, you can leave. I'll take care of my brother."
"That's not what I meant!" Gamlen threw his arms up. For a moment he seemed torn between anger and exasperation, but to Carver's surprise, the end result was neither. He took his hands away from his face and suddenly, his uncle looked like nothing more than a sad old man.
"Listen, I…I care about you boys. Especially now, when you're all that's left of Leandra. I loved my sister. Make no mistake. I'm here, aren't I? I've been checking up on him every day, several times a day. Do you think I want to lose more family? If I did, I could have easily sold him out to the templars a long time ago, and for a great deal of coin I might add. In case you haven't noticed, the going rate for mages is rather high these days."
Carver sighed, drained. "Oh, sod it all. Truce. I call a truce. Bickering back and forth isn't going to help anyone now, least of all Garrett."
Gamlen scowled, but shrugged his assent. "Fine. Just go see what you can do with 'im. I'm gonna try to find the elf."
Never had his brother looked so small.
He lay exactly where Carver left him: propped up by pillows, nestled beneath what looked to be a dozen warm quilts. Where before he had been sound asleep, his eyes were open now. Unnaturally bright, although presently, no tears stood in them. The crazed madness had fled, and in its place left a hollow shell. A broken man, weighed down by the sorrow he held in his heart.
To Carver, this was almost worse than before. At least in his maddened state, he'd been telling someone how he felt, albeit in a way that would most likely earn him a mob of pitch-forks and torches in most parts of the world.
When it came to everyone else's problems, Garrett was all over it. As long as Carver could remember, he'd always encouraged those he loved to open up, but tell him to do the same, and oh no. He shut himself down and you couldn't get a word out of him. Bloody hypocrite.
Garrett could be stubborn when he was like this. A normal man might write him up as a lost cause and send him on his way.
Carver was damn glad he wasn't a normal man.
"You know just for the record, when we were kids and I told you to go off yourself, I didn't mean that literally," he quipped, voice thick with sarcasm.
That elicited a watery chuckle from Garrett. It was a tiny, heart-breaking sound, so pitiful it almost made Carver want to crawl into a corner and die somewhere, but still, it was better than nothing.
"I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."
"I do. You've been spreading yourself thin for years. Mother's death was just the final straw. You think you need to save everyone but you can't, Garrett. You just…can't."
"But I want to save them." His voice was so tormented, Carver kicked himself for the millionth time that day. If only he had realized the extent of his brother's emotional damage sooner. Maybe he could have prevented this somehow.
Garrett sniffed, wrapping the covers more tightly around himself. "If nothing else, why couldn't I save her? Why couldn't I save mother? Or Bethany?"
"As for Bethany, I was there too and I did nothing. If you think the blame is yours, it must be mine as well. And mother…she was a grown woman. It wasn't your job to watch her all the time. You did the best you could to get her back. She knew that and so do I." He slowly settled himself onto the edge of Garrett's bed, smiling as he handed him a mug of hot cocoa.
Mother always used to make it for them when they were sick.
The gesture wasn't lost on Garrett. He sat up to take it, eyes bright with tears. Carver punched him on the shoulder good-naturedly. "Besides, you had your hands full trying to save Kirkwall. Now that is an impossible task. You do realize this city is almost entirely made up of crazy mages and equally crazy templars who hate them, right?"
Garrett laughed again, but it sounded more real this time. He smiled back at Carver.
It almost reached his eyes.
"What can I say? I have a thing for the mentally insane. Remember when I brought that stray dog home, even though it kept attacking everyone in town? I thought I could help the poor bastard. Then he bit me and the infection got so bad, father almost had to chop my arm off."
Carver rolled his eyes. "Maker, how could I forget? You were half-mad and delirious for nearly a week afterward. We were worried sick about you."
Garrett's expression darkened as the grin died on his lips. "I guess some things never change. I was in over my head then and I'm in over my head now." His gaze fell back to the bedcovers, fingers tracing a pattern on the quilt. When next he spoke it was in a voice so small, the young Warden almost didn't hear him.
"I almost said yes, Carver," he choked, fist clenched around the quilt.
"To who?" He thought he knew the answer, but he needed to hear it...almost as much as Garrett needed to say it. "Who did you say yes to, brother?"
"The demons," he whispered with a shudder. "They told me they could help me. They told me they'd make me strong. They told me they could protect the ones I love where I had failed, and do you know what I did, Carver? Nothing. I didn't banish them, like normal. I didn't try to fight. I did nothing…no, worse. I considered their offer…and I think I would have said yes."
Garrett dragged his eyes up to meet Carver's, although it was a wonder he could see at all through the tears.
"Thank the Maker for you, Carver. Thank the Maker you walked through my door."
