Chapter 4

Her rages were a storm, powerful, complete, blind to everything not in her path. She did not remember seeing anyone else in the room, hearing them shout in panic and grab their own weapons, training every sword, staff, dagger and crossbow on her angry form.

She had him pinned to the wall, one fist in his robes holding him in place, her knife against his throat, hard enough to break the skin should he move.
"Anders, you bastard. You're a fucking dead man." She growled, her rage not ebbing one bit. She'd saved him from Templars, and okay, she may have done it a little to piss off that self rightous twat of a Templar in particular, and possibly to rile up the King a little, but she'd done it because she needed more Grey Wardens, and mages were useful, especially healers.

They'd not been 'come up to my room' close, though it was not for lack of Anders trying to get such an invite, Eve felt he was a bit more of the cuddly type. That did not work for her. But they had been fairly close, as much as she let people nowadays. He was amusing at best, occasionally irritating, sometimes he reminded her of someone she'd rather forget. But then he'd gone and gotten himself killed. Or, from the very alive form in front of her now, had not.
She expected some ridiculous comment from his mouth, an apology perhaps? She certainly did not expect his very warm very unwelcome lips on hers. The shock of it was cold water to her hot rage, and she was quick to back away from him, her brows furrowed in disbelief. No one had ever done that to her! No one!
"Sorry sweetheart." He shrugged a half smile on his lips, "wanted to do that for ages, and with us both apparently dead, well, no time like the present!"
She stared at him for maybe half a second before the indignation of it boiled up inside, she took a step towards him, smiled sweetly, and head butted him hard enough to crack his nose.
"Argh!" Anders screamed falling to the floor holding his bloody face. "What the...?"
Eve rubbed her head, not giving away any hint it hurt like a fucker.
"Welcome to the afterlife." She said flatly.
"Would someone like to tell me what the hell is going on?" Some man demanded from behind her, his voice both filled with confusion and anger. She turned round ready to give him one if her 'none of your concern, Grey Warden business' speeches when her eyes locked with a set she hadn't seen since she escaped Ostagar. In Lothering to be precise. That she just so happened to have known since she was fifteen.

"Garrett?" "Eve?" They both spoke at the same time, disbelief in both their voices. He moved his staff in to a less threatening position, Eve held on to her knife like a lifeline, but it couldn't help her from drowning in the sea of past memories she'd been trying to escape from.

Garrett. Garrett Hawke from Lothering. A brother, a sister, a dead father and a mother who Eve had once pretended she'd like as her own. Garrett who gave her somewhere to stay when she had none, food to eat when she starved. She helped him and his family avoid the Templers. He was her first kiss, her first love, her first... Well, he was a lot of firsts. She'd saved him from some idiot who saw him do magic and was going to report him to the Templars. That had been her first kill. She'd had to leave and he'd begged to go with her, even though she knew he wouldn't really. She left for Denerim and put away the childish fancies he represented, only seeing him once more when she, Alistair and Morrigan had stopped there for supplies. She'd told him to take his family and leave. Again he'd asked to go with her, and again she said no.
Before she could do anything his arms were around her, he was larger than she remembered, muscles she never had memory of wrapped around her like a vice. He smelt of drink, dust and memories of happy times. For a second she almost hugged him back. Almost. But fear rose up her throat, a burning bile of realisation that her escape from Eve Darrow was scuppered so damn soon.
"Fuck." She breathed out in a shaky breath, realising how many questioning glances were burning her skin. Anders was still swearing to himself in the corner, and Garrett had only pulled away enough to stare in to her face with those wildly yellow eyes of his.
"What are you doing here?" He asked, his voice thick with emotion, he never had been one to hide his feelings.
"I, err, I..." She stumbled over words, her mouth dry, her tongue felt like wood. Her grey eyes darted round the room, she felt like a caged beast.
"That's Eve." Anders spoke nasally, his hand stemming the slowing trickle of blood from his nose.
"I know its Eve." Garrett replied looking past her and scowling at the healer. His hands firm on her arms as if he knew how close she was to bolting. "What I want to know is how you know it's Eve?!"
"What? She's Eve Darrow, you know, Hero of Ferelden, Warden-Commander? The supposedly dead woman I just been telling you about for the last Maker knows how long!" He huffed.
Eve heard a few gasps around the room. It was all getting a bit too dramatic for her tastes.
"Shit." Garrett looked down at her, "I didn't know you were that Eve, I thought that was another one." He laughed. "So um, Eve, why are you here?"
Eve swallowed audibly, her mind in over drive. She could lie, then excuse herself, pack her bag and leave, tonight, walk to Starhaven maybe? Or camp in the mountains? They couldn't be worse than the Brecilian forest surely.
"Don't." Garrett growled, breaking her from her maddening train of thought. "I know that look, that's the look you get each time you buggar off and leave me behind. You're not going anywhere."
Eve laughed, a hard bitter sound. "Really Garrett? You're going to stop me?" She glared at him, pushing him away with a strength that obviously shocked him from the look on his face. "You think you can stop me who traipsed around Ferelden gathering an army, killed a bloody tainted dragon, darkspawn and a load of other shit you really never want to imagine, faked my own death and you think you can stop me from walking out that door and doing a disappearing act like bloody sparkle fingers over there did on me a year ago? Good fucking luck!" She snorted and turned to leave, calmly, she wouldn't show him, Anders or the rest of their little group that desperation she felt in getting away. Too many knew she was alive now. She needed to get far away and quick.
"I'll paralyse you." Garrett told her. "Don't think I won't."
"Whatever." She waved a hand dismissively as she looked over her shoulder.
"I don't think he's kidding." She saw the dwarf say as he holstered his crossbow. "Five sovereign says he does." He winked at her. Eve's eyebrows shot up at the audacity of him.
"I'll take it." Said a half-naked, dark skinned woman Eve couldn't believe she hadn't seen.
"He won't get the chance." Anders told them taking a seat, watching the standoff between Eve and Garrett like a spectator.
"No bets." Garrett growled watching Eve. She couldn't ever remember him growling.
"What do you care anyway?" Eve said, turning around and folding her arms under her chest. A delicate eyebrow raised. "If I hadn't sensed Anders you would never have known. For Makers sake you didn't even know I was the Warden-Commander."
"I didn't know you were a Grey Warden, let alone that Grey Warden."
"I couldn't tell you back in Lothering, they were hunting us down."
"That's not the point. You're here, you're not dead. Why do you want people to think you're dead?" Eve opened her mouth to speak but Garrett was quick to interrupt "Don't say it's Grey Warden business because we get that off of Anders already and we all know that's bollocks."
"Not completely." Anders groused under his breath.
"It doesn't fucking matter, Garrett. I'm here right now because I'm angry at Anders," she turned the Mage. "This is not over by a long bloody shot you hear me? I spent days combing the area for your body, and we declared you dead, taken by the darkspawn. Do you know how awful that was?" She was nearly shouting at him. "We had a pyre for you with nothing on. Sigrun was practically beside herself, you arsehole." She was in his face now her voice trembling with anger, "You had friends! They thought you were dead! I even kept your stupid cat until I left."
"I'm sorry. I am. But, correct me if I'm wrong, haven't you done exactly the same thing?" He scowled at her.
Eve started to reply but then stilled, her face paling in realisation that in fact, yes, she was playing at being dead just like him. But Anders didn't have Weisshaupt on his back like she had. She hadn't had the friends he did. She was the cold, hard commander. A veneer of hostility at present at all times. She was polite when it counted and a raging warrior when she needed to be. She fucked but she wasn't exactly friendly. The friends she had once were gone in different directions or no longer friends.
"It's not the same at all." She said calmly, clamping down on the torrent of anger inside her and turning away.
"We still need to talk, Eve." Garrett said softly, touching her arm as she passed him.
"Third door on the left." She told him not looking his way. "Alone. And bring drink. A lot of fucking drink." She walked out closing the door behind here.

Nope, Kirkwall was not what she expected at all.