A/N: This chapter might be confusing because I meant it as such! Hopefully it's easy to catch on and you can form your own questions and conclusions about it.

Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,

When I embark;

For though from out our bourne of Time and Place

The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face

When I have crossed the bar.

~ (excerpt from) Crossing the Bar, by Lord Alfred Tennyson

Sharp Little Pinpricks

Chapter 4: Conversations with Dead People

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"Wake up. Move. You have to move so you can be seen!"

"Kirkwall can't change alone, love. It will take years of open warfare before mages can be safe."

I snuggled into him on the bed with a playful smirk, going along with his little revolutionary speech because Maker knew I was just too damned tired to lecture tonight, "Then we shall fight until you are allowed to remain safe and warm in my bed."

"Stop remembering, it's going to get you killed! Wake up! Open your eyes!"

Anders smiled happily and tightened his hold around me, taking strength from my tired encouragement. "Not just me. We will fight for a world where our children can be born mages and free. Ten years, a hundred years from now, someone like me will love someone like you and there will be no Templars to tear them apart."

"It's not time yet. Move! Help cannot come to you unless you've the will to save yourself. Move so that you can be found! You're running out of time! MARIAN!"

A voice thundered in her ears and Hawke's eyes stung badly as they snapped open.

She was still underneath the water.

Her arms suddenly lashed out as if making to swim but her armor kept her weighted down. Slender fingers tried once more to unbuckle the leather straps beneath her plate only to find that it was becoming increasingly hard to focus. She had to go, she had to breathe! It was not time yet! Marian pressed her lips into a tight line, the last bit of air inside of her floating up in the form of small bubbles.

"Maker, please help me. I can't rid myself of this armor fast enough—"

And just as the prayer had been asked, was it answered. Green eyes peered up towards the sun from beneath the surface. Anders was there, begging her to push harder and make herself known to those who were searching. She reached up for him, her digits stretching as far as they would go and her movements making her shiny plate armor glint underneath the clear water like a tiny beacon. She needed to keep fighting, yet all that could be heard was the roaring of ocean in her ears as her mind swam and her lungs burned. She could not bear to focus much longer, the darkness was pleading with her to join it...

There was a glimmer of white light breaking through the surface above her, or so she thought. She could not see well with the increasing shadows that distorted her sight. The world was flickering with vague glimpses of recognizable shapes and places, showing her visions of her own life with each flash of light. But something—someone was moving towards her in between each moment, this much she could tell.

The individual had crashed through the image of Anders and Hawke felt a vague feeling of hope from within. The woman was swimming towards Marian at an ungodly speed, the light from the noon sun behind her giving this savior a halo around her wild, shoulder length hair.

Hawke, who had been simply reaching for Anders, was now screaming for this figure in white with her whole body, utilizing the last of her energy. Tanned fingers intertwined with pale ones and a shock surged through both of them. Isabela pulled herself into the warrior and crushed their lips together in an air tight bond, forcing what little breath she had from her very lungs into the drowning woman. There wasn't much of a response, but it was not something Isabela could worry of just yet. First, she had to rid Hawke of armor.

The rogue pulled a knife from her belt, harshly cutting through the leather straps that kept Marian's chest and shoulder armor bound to her. She worked quickly yet meticulously as she cut away at other individual pieces, her own need for air starting to echo silently in the back of her mind. It might have only been a short moment but it certainly felt like it was taking an eternity to resurface.

Once everything (including Hawke's plate boots) was removed, Isabela swam around and hooked her arm underneath the blonds. Something was wrong; Marian was not aiding her in the climb. The brunette's toes pointed and her powerful legs kicked frantically as she led them to the surface. She gasped gratefully as oxygen fill her lungs but wanted to scream when the woman she was holding did not do the same. There was no hesitation when she started swimming Hawke over towards the shore and its oddly sallow-looking sand.

Upon feeling the beginnings of land, Isabela started into a hurried crawl. She went further, dragging Hawke behind her until they were a decent and safe ways in. She flipped the warrior onto her side and pounded against her back, watching as small dribbles of salt water poured from her unmoving lips and face.

"Breathe," Isabela panted, "Come on, Hawke."

The warrior was motionless despite her desperate pleas. She laid the woman on the flat of her back and straightened her out, tilting Marian's head so that her chin pointed up. Isabela wrapped a hand around the nape of the blonde's neck and gently lifted while placing her other hand on Hawke's forehead and pushing slightly so that her tongue moved away from the back of her throat and permitted an open air passage.

Isabela could feel her heart pounding madly and her blood go hot as bent over to place her ear along Marian's mouth. She longed to feel warm breath against her skin but nothing was coming. Her chest was neither rising nor falling. "She's not breathing," the pirate exhaled to herself, words coming out so deeply distressed that it would have been almost to the point of incoherency if others had heard.

Keeping one hand under her chin, Isabela then used the other to pinch Hawke's nose. She inhaled and pressed her mouth widely against the others to form a seal, blowing in four quick but deep breathes. Marian's chest would rise slowly then return to its unresponsive state.

"Hurlock's ass-mole, Hawke, we didn't get this bloody far together only to have something so stupid kill you. You're a Champion! Act like one! Come on," the pirate shouted, trying again. "Come on!"

It's funny how things work out sometimes, because someone did feel a little pinprick jab at their skin just then. Only…this time it wasn't Hawke who felt it.

Her eyelashes darkened and clumped with a wetness that had nothing to do with the ocean's water. Isabela sniffed and swallowed, shaking her head and trying again, refusing to give up.

Nothing changed.

She covered her mouth with the palm of her hand and plopped down to sit next to the limp body. Marian was simply laying there, her once warm face now pallid and sickly looking. Hawke looked so cold and the sight of it broke the pirate's heart, so she grabbed the warrior by the shoulders of her tunic and pulled her in, cradling her head in her lap. Isabela's chest trembled as a guttural moan flew from her lips before she could stifle it, honey colored orbs turning skyward.

For the first time in her life... she spoke to any deity who would listen. Maker or not, she just needed someone to pay attention and answer.

*-o-*-o-*

Dull. Empty. That's the only way I can explain where I am right now. There is no weight or substance to my body. I feel like I simply…exist.

How did I get here?

When did I get here?

"You're a real piece of work, big sister. Tell me something… how were you able to kill Meredith but can't seem to take a proper swim? Everyone knows that heavy plate armor doesn't exactly do wonders as a flotation device."

"Carver?"

"Yes?"

"Brother, where are you!"

"Turn around."

"What?"

"Just turn around, Marian! Maker, do you always have to question me?"

I didn't understand exactly how I was supposed to do this considering it felt like I didn't have a body, but I tried anyways. And as soon as I did, this bright world filled will color and took the shape of things that I knew and remembered; familiar things, objects of meaning. I took a moment to glance around, realizing that this was my dear little family home in Lothering. It was suddenly very warm and I found myself sitting near a fireplace wearing a dress that had long since burned. Carver was standing there with a grin on his face, arms crossed over chest and leaning into the frame of an archway that led into our small, open kitchen.

My eyes flooded with tears as I ran up to him and wrapped him in my embrace, one arm tight around his neck while my other hand grasped the back of his head and latched into his hair. "I've missed you so much. I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you, that I didn't knock you away in time… that I simply couldn't take your place." I moved my head back and held his face in between my hands to look at him properly, "Forgive me please, little brother…"

He was gentle when he slid my digits away from his face, holding my hands firmly in his. "There's nothing to forgive. Ogre or not, I was foolish to charge ahead of the rest of you. I was fueled only by my anger. Losing father was hard on it own, but when we had to leave everything that we'd ever known… I couldn't stand it."

Carver then exhaled petulantly, "No worries, ever since I've been here with our dear old Father he's not stopped wagging his finger at me because of it. It's an understatement to say that I've learned that my actions were reckless. It was no ones fault."

I searched his eyes, "Father…is he here too?"

"He is. Mother is as well," he replied easily, "but they won't be able to come see you yet. It's not time for that. I'm here because being the stubborn bastard that I am, refused to let you wander back from the white vast without telling you something that you need to hear first. So, will you hear it, big sister? I promise that what I have to say will be quite profound and prompt much more inner dialogue."

"Of course, brother. What is it?"

"You're stupid."

"…I think I must have heard you wrong just now. I was expecting something philosophical and insightful. Would you mind repeating that?"

"Of course, let me just take a moment to clear my throat…"

I nodded my head and waited, watching as he presented himself like an important public speaker. "Ahem. You're stupid," he said again, slowly this time as if I had suffered permanent brain damage. "You're daft. Nutty. Dippy. Looped. Your chimney is clogged. Your wheel is turning but the mouse running on it is dead, you—"

"Okay, I get it! No wonder you and Isabela get along, she does the exact same thing to me! Maker's breath," I exhaled, eyeballing Carver and wondering if it would be wrong to punch him in the nose after missing him for so long.

"If you understood it then I wouldn't be in the position of having to tell you, would I? Marian, I've been watching what you're doing to yourself. Mother and Father have been watching too. We are not very pleased."

I shook my head, not quite understanding what he was getting at. "What are you talking about? I've been doing the best that I can. Speak plainly. You know I don't like it when you talk from your ass."

"Alright then let's talk about two things. And since you brought her up, we'll make her subject number one. So," he cleared his throat yet again, "number one: I'm surprised Isabela has stayed with you for as long as she has."

"She's close to me, Carver. We've been—"

"Ah-Ah," he waggled his finger at me, "You haven't done anything while she's been trying just…so hard, Marian. But it's like you've just been stuck on this never ending loop for a year! The anger, the guilt, the shame, the sadness…it's not healthy anymore, sister. In case you haven't walked passed a mirror in three hundred and sixty five days, you should know that you look like shit."

"Did I ever mention how pleasant you could be," I sighed tiredly. "Carver, if you're so wise you should know that it hasn't been—"

"Easy, I know. Blah, blah blah. But answer me this: have you ever, in this whole year, considered how your brooding behavior might be affecting the pirate wench? Maker knows it's been hard on you, Marian. Isabela knows that too, and that's why she's never given you any crap about it. But you have to be blind, deaf, and dumb to not notice that it's starting to take its toll on her. She's done nothing but care, comfort, and help you through your grief. Yet, never once have you bothered to ask how she was holding up because of it. Selfish, selfish, selfish."

My eyes widened and I could feel my chest go tight. There was a sudden ringing in my ears and I could have sworn for the briefest of moments that I heard Isabela. She was crying (?) and I longed to reach out and tell her that it was alright. I didn't know what the matter was but I knew that I wanted to help her. Was she really suffering silently on my behalf? Could I simply not see her underneath my own self pity?

"…what is that I hear? Is that Isabela? I can hear her, Carver. Where is she? Is she here? And what's this little p-pain in my chest and throat?"

"Let's not worry about any that just yet. I still have my second thing to say."

Even though I missed my little brother with all of my heart, I wanted him to just have out with it so I could go help my friend. She was hurting and I needed to be there with her. "Be quick and honest with it, Carver! If Isabela is in trouble I need to be there."

He rolled his eyes and dragged me along back to the fireplace where we both could sit. "Fine. You want my honesty to come swiftly? Then it shall. I think what you've been doing to yourself is pointless. People need to grieve, I understand that. But there comes a point when enough is enough, sister. The past is the past; our mistakes make us who we are. Yes, what happened in Kirkwall was terrible and sad, and yes, a lot of people died because of it. You could sit here all day and ask yourself if anything could have been done differently to change the outcome. But do you know what? Should have, could have, and would have are meaningless words that carry no weight at all.

"None of it matters anymore. Sure, beat yourself up and wonder if something might have been changed had the Grand Cleric agreed with you and chose to take action rather than playing neutral. But she didn't, and that time has long since passed. It happened, Marian. You can't change it now. It is what it is and you need to learn to live with it just like the rest of the blokes who strolled along beside you.

"You are not the only one who played a part in this outcome. They were all pieces of the puzzle, they were all there, watching as the Chantry and Kirkwall fell to magic. Every citizen, every templar, every mage, every chantry sister for the past hundreds of years all had a hand in it. It all pushed and led up to that point. It just so happened to boil over when you all were there.

Doesn't our family just have the best luck?"

I shook my head, trying to soak in everything he was throwing at me, "Carver, it—this—all of it hurts. It's not so simple for me. It's not a hurt that I can simply turn on and off like a candle. I have to work through it the only way that I know how."

"You're doing that now, sister. That's why you brought us here isn't it? It's why you thought of us?"

"…what?"

He stared at me for a moment, as if contemplating whether to answer or not.

"Nevermind that. Was it not your pirate queen that said 'If it doesn't bring you gold or giggles, then there's no point in dwelling on it.' She's right, you know. And for the love of the Maker, if you can't stop dwelling on it then do something about it! It's better than flopping around like an angry fish out of water."

"I—" There it was again, that bloody ringing in my ears and the pain in my chest. I can hear her! It has to be Isabela, I know it. I would know that voice anywhere. "Carver, something is happening to me. I'm hearing something and I think—no, I know that it's Isabela."

"It seems like she's working faster than I thought she would. We've run out of time here then. I have to go. There's someone else that needs to talk to you in my place. I personally hate the guys bleedin' guts, but like I said, none of that matters anymore." He stood up then and moved to me, taking me in his thicker arms and hugging me as if it would be the last time for a long, long time. "I love you, sister. I'm sorry that I never said it enough. It's easy to find the words when it's too late."

I smiled at him with all the love that I possessed, trying my best not to tear up and to understand what was happening. "I…I love you too, but you c-can't go… I don't know what's going on! What is the ringing in my ears? Why are—"

"Answer the door."

"…what?"

"There's someone at the door."

I turned to look over my shoulder for the briefest of moments and quirked my brow at our homes entrance before turning back and noticing that Carver was…gone.

"Carver?" I called out, praying that he would answer. "Little brother, are you there?"

Nothing.

I clenched my jaw to steel my lower lip. It wanted to so badly to quiver at the sudden loss of someone whom I had already said goodbye to once. My steps were slow and unsure as I made my way to the front entrance. I took the knob in my hand and twisted, opening the door slowly and poking my head to the side to see who it was…

A mage with light colored hair tied up in a messy ponytail, handsome in his robes and combat boots. There was a gentleness about him just as I had always remembered before his…actions. But as my eyes traced over his face, his features grew blurry. I couldn't make out the hues of his orbs or the curve of his nose or lips. My eyebrows furrowed at the fog that seemed to cover his face. "Anders?"

"Hello, love," he said cheerily, as if he had just had a picnic on some grassy hill with Ser-pounce-a-lot.

Despite the haze around his features, I still couldn't stop myself from launching into his arms and holding on desperately. He laughed and picked me up, twirling me in a few tight circles before placing me down. I wanted badly to kiss him, but that fog-thing on his face kept me from doing it. "Anders, what's going on? And what's on your face?"

"Love, I think there are some things you've been carrying with you that you need to say to me. It's why I'm here."

I could feel my breathe hitch, visions of digging pointed metal into his back flooding through me. "I'm sorry that I…I didn't want—"

"No, Marian. It has nothing to do with what happened to me after the Chantry crumbled, but has everything to do with what happened afterwards. You need to talk to me and to get it all out because you're running out of time."

My skin suddenly felt much too cool and my hair started to dampen, almost as if drops of water were trickling off unkempt strands. A sudden throbbing at my temple told me that something must have hit me there—hard. And there was a burning in my chest making it increasingly harder to breathe.

It felt like I was…

Anders could see the change in my state, reaching over to place a hand on top of mine in support. "You're remembering what happened now, aren't you?"

Water. There is water everywhere and I can't move. I need air but lack the strength to act. "I was sitting down…then there was water…a reef?" Vivid images of everything that happened flickered through my mind and I found myself stumbling back and gasping for air. "I… drowned."

"Do you remember anything else?"

After willing my breathing to calm I closed my eyes and thought back to the chaos: endless sapphire, pink coral, blue darkness below but sunlight above, and a man reaching for me as I turned my eyes to the sky from beneath. "It was you! I know it was you that snapped me from the darkness in the water. I heard your voice! You made me open my eyes and then there was…Isabela?"

The ringing in my ears increased and I heard her voice clearly for the first time, "…please, Hawke."

Anders nodded, "You saw the image that you created, yes. But I wasn't the one to save you and it was not my voice that you heard. It was my image that made you give up fighting in the first place, remember?"

I could see it in my mind, the very moment when I first saw Anders in the water and decided to stop fighting for my life.

Suddenly I felt very… ashamed.

"…what did I do—have I done? I actually considered just accepting death knowing that I still have friends out there who depend on me and a sister who needs me?" Thoughts of Bethany came to me and I groaned, "Carver was right. I am selfish. And for what? Because I'm still a depressed mess even a year later? Depressed or not, that was no excuse for me to give up. It was pathetic just taking my misfortune and not having the will to fight back. That's not like me. Mother, Father…they said they weren't happy with my actions. I can see why..."

"It's not just because of that, love. You're sending yourself down into this dark place, and I'm scared that you'll never come back from it if you don't move on. You dream of moments and a man that have long since passed."

I wanted to scream at him then. It was his fault. It was his stupid little plan that started everything. So why couldn't I yell at him? Why didn't I want to hit him smack in his blurry face?

"How do you move on from something like this? A broken city? A fallen chantry? Your death that came at my hands? I'm not the same woman that I was a year ago."

"I don't think anyone really expects you to be the same woman after what happened. But look at yourself, Marian. Your cheeks are gaunt, your eyes are sad, and Isabela even said that she hated when you stood next to her at the market because when compared to you she felt 'round in the middle'. You're growing thinner, becoming a shadow of your former self and I hate watching it happen. Heed the advice that was given. Move on."

"Move on, move on, move on! That's all everyone is telling me!" I said angrily, rounding my hands into tight fists. "You people make it seem so simple! Well I have news for you. It's not. I—you would—it's just that I don't know what's going to happen next! But I do know that to accept what's to come is to know that I'm going to have to say goodbye… and I don't want to leave you behind.

"It's scaring me that I might have started to do so already. Your presence still lingers on in my memories, but your face…your face is fading, blurring, changing. Even now I can't see you. Why is that, Anders? I can't see those kind eyes or soft lips anymore. I can feel them, but I can't see them. I need to see them."

The man's head seemed to tilt as he looked at me, "All you have to do is close your eyes and think of them, love. What you need to see will come.

I returned his look with uncertainty, never enjoying when people spoke in riddles. But never the wiser I closed my eyes and tried to fill in the blanks that my memory couldn't seem to connect. However, where I tried to remember hazel orbs… I saw honey. Where I tried to find soft, peach lips… I felt softer lips tinted of a darker shade. Where there was pale, moon kissed skin there was now tan, sun kissed skin. Loose, shoulder length hair where a tight ponytail should be.

Sit down—I needed to sit down. I found a seat and folded my arms over her eyes, feeling my lips tremble almost as if Anders could see what I had just pieced together. Guilt flooded through my body, my mind reacting as if I had just cheated on the man.

"T-There's something that I have to tell you…"

He sat across from me, reaching over again and taking my cold hands into his warm ones. "You can tell me anything."

Maker, he was making this harder with all the support. "A few nights ago I had awoken from a terrible memory completely shaken. I was crying and trembling and just couldn't seem to self-soothe. I called out for her, for Isabela, and she…calmed me, relieved me in the only way she knew how. I'm sorry," my voice cracked, "I'm so sorry. I don't know if it makes anything better, but do understand that I never let her kiss me. My lips were not hers to claim, they're yours!"

I squeezed my eyes shut tightly upon remembering that I wanted Isabela to kiss me but never gave in to my own desire. The little fact was enough to make the guilt double in strength and the ringing in my ears to grow ever louder. "I..."

"It's okay, you can continue. It's what you've needed to tell me, love. It's why you've thought of me."

"I…I never meant for this to happen but she's crawling into me, Anders. The way you did. I can feel this spark inside of me when we talk, and this electric pulse underneath my skin when we touch."

His face was starting to clear. I could make out a gentle smile on his lips and it drove me crazy. "Why aren't you yelling at me? Why don't you accuse me of cheating and call me awful things just as you should?"

"Should I," he mused, the fog around his mouth and jaw evaporating faster. "I don't think I can call you names when you don't deserve it. It's been a hard and lonely time. You shouldn't have to be alone out of guilt. You've been figuring that out slowly since the moment you arrived here. It's a lovely home, by the way."

I tried to smile for him but found there was just no will to do so, so he squeezed my hands a bit more tightly. "You know what you have to say, don't you," Anders asked gently. "So say it. You say that it's not simple, but it really it. It's nothing more than seven little words."

I hung my head, knowing what he was after. I had known it myself for a short while, yet the masochist that I must have inside let it continue on out of pure guilt. After everything that has happened because of me I didn't deserve to be happy...or so I thought. "…I can't keep doing this, can I?"

"No, Marian," he smiled, the fog around his nose and cheeks disappearing. "You really can't. It's not healthy for anyone. But that's only the beginning of what needs to be said. The proper words are stuck in your throat and you have to learn that it's okay to say them. Saying them would be…a good start."

"I can't."

"Say them," he insisted.

"I can't!"

"Say them!"

"I—"

"SAY THEM!"

"I can't keep missing you!" I shouted back, the words flying from my lips before I could restrain them, sudden horror hitting me when I realized that something else was about to spew from my mouth: word vomit.

"I can't continue to cling to your memory. It hurts me to say it, but it's killing me to let it linger on. My world is without color, without life. I've been stuck in it so long that I've forgotten what it's like amongst the living. Please understand that the warmth of your presence will always be with me, and maybe one day we'll meet again at the Maker's side, but… that time is not now."

It's a conscious feeling now: my hair feels wet again and skin damp. There's an echo in my ears, a woman pleading for me as she presses against my chest. It kind of hurts, but with every stiff thrust of her arms against my heart I feel something inside jumpstart.

"If I am going to be any use to the people of Thedas then I have to get back onto my feet and keep walking. My father used to say, 'I might be a slow walker, but I never walked back.' That's all I've been doing isn't it? Walking back and retracing my steps. I can't do it anymore."

I looked up and my breath caught in my throat. There he was without the fog…Anders, my Anders, handsome and smiling with me in agreement, "So don't, Marian. Walk forward and never turn back again. Learn from the past, live in the preset, look to the future, and when the moment arises do not hesitate to jump. There's a lot that still has to be done." He got up then, moving around to me and standing me on my feet. I'll never forget that soft look in his eyes, a love unending and approving.

The pad of his thumb brushed against my cheek as he leaned in to kiss me on the forehead instead of my lips. The action confused me. Why not my lips? "Goodbye, lovey. Take care, and above all else…never turn back."

"Anders? Wait, Anders—" He was gone with a nod, the lingering feel of his approval and love forever etched into memory. "Goodbye, Anders..."

Thumpthump.

I gasped. M-My chest…it…it hurts.

Thumpthump.

I collapsed onto the ground and clutched at my heart, writhing under the pressure and pain. Flipping onto my back did absolutely nothing to ease the strain, my jaw slacking and holding open as if trying to exhale but lacking the breath to do so.

Thumpthump.

Finally I scream and my head flies back and body arches. The ceiling of my little family home in Lothering suddenly explodes and becomes…a powered sky and high afternoon sun? There was a sharp pain near my eyebrow and I could feel a soft cloth tied around my head. It was blue.

Thumpthump.

The fabric smelled of earth, like the way the grass smells after it rains. It was...Isabela's scent. Her hair always smelled like this.

Thumpthump.

It was difficult to focus, but eventually my eyelids opened a little more and I saw her hovering above me.

She had one hand pressed against my chest with her other one pressed on top of that hand, fingers interlaced. Her arms were straight and stiff and her expression wide yet determined.

My chest was still hurting as did every other part of my body, but this time when I felt my heart beat within its confines…it beat for a very different reason.

Thumpthump.

Maker, when did she get so beautiful?

A/N: Thanks for reading.