With a nod, Josephine opened the vial and handed it over. I tipped the contents into my mouth, and within moments the feeling returned to my leg. Still, the wound would smart for a while. She carefully removed the arrow tip, which fortunately hadn't penetrated far, and I closed the edges with a healing spell. She offered her hand, and I felt compelled to take it. Her touch had become softer again, but I didn't let it linger.

Once I was back on my feet, Josephine led me towards the gardens. The others dispersed, and I was thankful that matters had not escalated further. Now my temper had calmed, my cheeks were flushed with shame at what I'd done. I'd let my fear morph into anger, and I had no excuse for coming so close to attacking my companions. I'd already felt myself slipping, and the failure with the crystal had been the last straw.

Still, even after all that had been said and done, it didn't change how I felt. I didn't deserve such concern, not after the way I'd been treating everyone. And no matter how much I wanted to believe, it could never combat the painful reality. Josephine could have her talk, but words were all they would ever be.

Josephine opened the door to the portico, and I stepped through. A few torches continued to burn, so we weren't left in complete darkness. A similar light emanated from my palm, and I closed my fingers around the crystal. Despite the earlier commotion, I'd managed to keep hold of it. I could feel its warmth against my mark, and I let out a breath. I should just discard it already.

Josephine stopped before a bench and sat down. She patted the seat beside her, and I reluctantly took it.

"I won't hide behind decorum, Inquisitor." Her gaze softened, suddenly free of the mask she was so accustomed to wearing. "I'm really, really worried about you. We all are. I had thought some time to yourself would've granted you clarity, but I see now that was wrong of me." She faced me directly. "I want to know what has come over you, what is it that has you acting so distant and afraid?"

My fingers clenched around the crystal.

"Why do you care?" My voice was quiet. "Worried that the Inquisition is going to fall apart?"

"Don't try to change the subject." Josephine's eyes narrowed. "My concerns have nothing to do with the rest of the Inquisition, nor what the people might think." She shook her head. "Why is it so difficult to believe I care for you as a person? That I hate feeling so helpless, seeing you like this?"

Her words struck a chord, and I tensed.

"There's nothing you can do," I said, pushing back the feelings she stirred. "There's nothing anyone can do."

"Or so you have convinced yourself," Josephine answered. Her eyes were pleading. "I don't understand why you won't confide in me anymore. We all know the Nightmare did something else to you, and we want to help. I want to help." She touched my wrist. "Please, talk to me."

I turned my gaze to the flowers, filled with uncertainty. The crystal suddenly felt so heavy in my hand; a burden I could no longer carry alone. Its web of suffering had spread too much, like a blanket smothering out all brightness that had entered my life. It would drag me into the abyss; a thought that now terrified me.

But maybe…maybe it wasn't too late.

Letting out a deep sigh, I offered my hand. Josephine glanced at the crystal, raising a brow.

"What is this?" she asked.

"A memory," I said. "My memory. It…" I hesitated. "It should tell you what you want to know."

Josephine stared at me. I deliberately avoided her gaze, my arm trembling. If I met her eyes, I wouldn't be able to offer this piece of myself again.

"Are you sure?"

I couldn't bring myself to speak. Instead I pushed the crystal into her hand, before I'd change my mind. Josephine took it, and the shard began to glow. The veins of lyrium flashed, and the vision projected into the air. Josephine gasped, while I grimaced. She was completely silent, her mouth agape as she watched events play out.

Finally, the vision ended. The light surrounding the crystal died, and then it shattered. Josephine blinked, returned to the present. The powder spilled between her fingers, glittering to the ground. She ignored it, staring at the space where the memory had been.

"That…I can't believe…" She shook her head. "That was horrible! To have almost had to face Tranquility for a crime you did not commit, convicted by your best friend…" She held my arm, and it took all of my willpower not to flinch. "Why did you not say anything?"

I turned away.

"What good would it have done?" I asked. "It doesn't change what happened."

"But we are your friends, are we not?"

"That means nothing!" I threw off her hand, suddenly reviled. "It's an empty word people hide behind so they can use you without feeling guilty!" I swallowed back the tightness in my throat. "I'm not giving anyone else permission to treat me like that again, and if that bothers you then…"

"It is not just us who are 'bothered' by it!" Josephine snapped, unable to hide her temper any longer. "You don't speak outside of battle meetings, you hide away whenever we approach, you can't even keep eye contact with Cullen, Leliana or myself! You are pushing us aside, trying to take on everything by yourself, and you can't shoulder such a burden. No-one can!" Her voice softened. "You are hurting deeply, Inquisitor, and I can't ignore it any longer."

Somehow, I found the courage to meet her eyes. They burned with sincerity. Even then I couldn't stand it, and had to break my gaze. It couldn't be true. I'd seen just the same before. It was an act, a pretence. And it would always lead to the same conclusion.

"Why do you waste yourself on me?" I asked. "Are you so afraid to lose your weapon against the darkness? That you feel you must convince me about the duty I'm obliged to fulfil?"

"Why do you keep coming up with such nonsense?!" Josephine held her forehead. "Did all the time we spent together come solely for sake of this 'duty'?" She stood up and began to pace the portico. "All those long discussions upon your balcony, those evenings in the tavern, our walks through this very garden…" She took a breath. "You even risked yourself against the assassins of House Repose for me. You restored my family's name after centuries of disgrace, and for what? A sense of duty?"

"I didn't want anything owed to me," I hissed. "And I don't want any of this anymore. No-one needs to be involved in my affairs, and neither me in theirs. I can handle myself!"

"As you handled yourself in Crestwood?" Josephine asked. "Had Cassandra not followed you…"

"…then she wouldn't have been injured!" I snapped. "I never asked her to help. I never asked any of you for this!" My voice lost some of its certainty. "You saw what happened when I gave someone my unconditional trust. I don't ever want to go through that again."

"Then why did you decide to let me see it?" Josephine shot back. "Why tell me you have no interest for those who care about you, then allow yourself to reveal such a painful memory?" She returned to my side. "You wouldn't have done that if there wasn't a part of you that still trusts. Not everyone is like Kianna, and deep down you realise this as well. You only have to look how far the Inquisition has come, and it's because you gave a chance to those who wanted to help."

"I'm not their friend," I snarled. "I'm their symbol." I stared at my left hand, disgusted. "You raised me to be this holy saviour when it's nothing but a lie!"

"'We' raised nothing," Josephine countered. "You garnered your reputation through your own efforts, not rumours and hearsay." She leant against the bench, sighing. "I am wasting my breath, aren't I? There is more to this than just Kianna's betrayal, and only now am I starting to see it." She paused. "You feel that because she left you so coldly, so easily, you are unworthy of being loved."

Her words were like icicles through my chest; cold, intense, hurtful, true.

"Why else would she have done that to me," I whispered, drawing my arms around myself. "It will be just the same when Corypheus is defeated."

"You are tormenting yourself for no reason, Inquisitor," Josephine murmured. "You can't let such crippling doubts hold you back, not when you know better. When you've seen better." She made to touch my face. "I can take that fear away from you…"

"Why won't you just listen to me?!" I caught her wrist, turning it aside, and stood up. "I don't need your help! I never asked for it, and never wanted it! I just want to be left alone!"

"Stop lying to yourself!" Josephine snatched my arms. "Are you really so blind? This isn't what you want at all. I understand not wanting to be betrayed like that again, but you cannot accept a guaranteed pain over one that may never return." She let out a breath. "You don't have to bear that loneliness, because I will not leave you."

"You will," I said hoarsely. "You can say whatever you want; I know how this ends. How it always ends."

"I won't!"

"You will!" My fists clenched. "You'll stick around while I'm useful and then abandon me, just like everyone else!"

"Ugh, what will it take to rid you of this false conviction?!" Josephine held my cheek, forcing me to look at her. "Whatever becomes of the Inquisition matters little to me. I cannot speak for the others, but all I know is that I want to stay by your side, come what may." With her free hand she took mine, and placed it above her heart. "Why is it so hard to trust what is right in front of you?"

I closed my eyes, hesitant. Her words were so, so convincing. I wanted to believe her…but…

"I…I can't," I croaked, shying from her touch. "If I have to go through that once more…"

"You won't," Josephine cut me off. "I may have been a bard once, a player of the Game, but if anything that experience taught me the importance of true integrity." She stroked my cheek. "Emily, I'm begging you. I want to be there for you. Please, let me prove what my heart holds for you."

My eyes widened. It had been so long since I'd heard my name, it was almost alien.

"Do you think I had forgotten that as well?" Josephine gave a small smile. "You trusted me enough to tell me your real name once. All I'm asking is that you find that same trust again. I swear I will not let you down."

A lump rose in my throat, and I couldn't swallow it away. Josephine was opening her heart; a gesture she had long been taught was much too dangerous, if not fatal. Yet here she was, her faith in me strong enough to overcome that fear and take a chance.

And my heart echoed with hers, telling me to do the same.

I could not let Kianna destroy my future any longer.

"You swear?" My voice was cracking.

Josephine's eyes filled with warmth. She placed both of her hands around mine, and brought them to her lips.

"I swear by Andraste, by the Maker, by whatever powers that govern this world and the next, I will not betray you." She kissed my hand. "I love you too much for that."

My eyes filled with tears.

"How can you say such a thing," I whispered, "when I can't even love myself?"

"Because such things are not absolutes," Josephine replied. "You've just let your pain drown out the truth for too long. And even if you feel there's no answer right now, I'll help you find a new one."

That did it. The dam finally burst, and I buried my face in my hands. My tears fell freely, and I choked out a sob. Josephine pulled me close, bringing my head to her shoulder. Weeping, I drew into her embrace, my arms wrapping around her. Doubts still hovered at the edge of my thoughts, but my need for her overpowered them. I didn't want to be alone, I didn't want to sit in the empty darkness and pretend I was above it all.

I wanted to believe I was worth something again.

"It will be alright," Josephine said, stroking my hair, not caring for her soaked collar. "I'm here for you, and always will be. I promise."

I could only nod, unable to speak. I clung to her, taking comfort in her scent and warmth, and praying with all my heart that I'd made the right decision. Even if I could not find love for myself yet, I'd find it for her. It was the least she deserved.

Eventually my breathing calmed, and I pulled away. Josephine wiped the tears from my cheeks. Her touch was too tender, and I had to withdraw.

"I'm sorry, Josephine." I held a hand to my eyes, sniffing. "I…not yet. It's still…too much."

"Of course, I understand," Josephine said, letting her arm drop. "I am under no illusion this will all simply heal overnight." She rubbed my shoulder. "But you've taken an important first step. And no matter how long it takes, I will be with you for the rest of the way."