Things began to make a little more sense to the Seeker. She had a number of theories about what Varric wanted to convey with his stories. So far it seemed that there was perhaps another layer to Varric and Hawke's relationship that she'd overlooked. Either way, many members of the Inquisition watched their friends go into battle every day. It still struck her as awfully selfish of the dwarf not to have brought the Champion to them sooner. Maybe he'd wanted to spare his friend some additional suffering after all the things she'd been through - but it was her experiences that set her apart from others and, in Cassandra's eyes, made her the best candidate for Inquisitor. At least that was before the Herald had taken that position.

Running a hand through her hair she sighed, it took approximately seven days to reach Adamant Fortress from their current holdings, seven days there and seven days back was the least amount of time that Hawke would be gone. It had been about ten days since they had left. Varric stressed the need for her to read all the stories before the forces returned so that left her four days in which to finish them to be sure that she would accomplish that.

Looking at the papers she had still to get through she reasoned if she spent much of her time reading then she could accomplish this fairly easily. After some brief exercise she returned to the manuscripts.

The second time Hawke came to me for matters relating to family it was shortly following the death of her mother. That had been an unpleasant experience to put it mildly. We'd found her some three or so days previously - or rather we'd found her head. Attached by some strange magic to a body patched together from other women, like a gruesome homage to Frankenstein's monster. Hawke appeared in my doorway again, but this time there was no hesitation and no subtlety. She looked gaunt and harrowed, dark circles under her eyes which themselves were bloodshot and watery.

"Andraste's ass, you look like you haven't slept in days!"

I spoke without thinking, she answered me by way of a grunt slumping into the seat across from me as she had done the last time. I handed her a bottle of wine without asking any questions. She needed it and I could tell that much. Uncorking it seemed to take far too much effort and she knocked a few mouthfuls back, some of the liquid escaped and ran down her chin and onto her armour. It was then that I noticed the stains.

"Hawke."

She didn't look at me at first, ignoring the fact that I was speaking to her or perhaps just not hearing me at all. "Hawke." I tried again more forcefully.

This time her eyes lifted up to meet mine, vacant and red raw.

"What?"

I looked her over once again, shaking my head and getting up out of my chair. She flinched when I put a hand on her shoulder and began to unbuckle the top of the chest plate.

"You haven't changed or slept since…" I trailed off, the blood of the man who'd stitched those women together and the blood of her mother intermingled with theirs was still splattered across her in a gruesome slash.

"Since my mother was murdered."

It came out so matter-of-fact that I stopped what I was doing. I'd intended on helping her out of her armour and at least cleaning her up a little bit.

"Shit Hawke, I'm, look I'm sorry."

"I'm not a child, you don't have to treat me with kiddie gloves."

She spat the last part at me, clearly resentful to everyone and everything at this moment in time. I finished helping her out of her armour before I made any attempt to reply. For a time the only sounds were our breathing and the clinking of metal.

"It's okay, you know." I began eventually as I stepped back to look at her, the clothes she'd had under her gear weren't exactly clean but it looked better. She threw a filthy look at me, expecting something else than what I had to say. "You're allowed to mourn her."

The expression turned from anger to surprise.

"What do you…?"

"You treat everyone who tries to help you like they're doing something wrong. As if you're supposed to be able to deal with everything by yourself, but shit, nobody can deal with all this crap on their own."

For the first time in my life I saw Hawke cry that night, really truly cry. It was painful for both of us, she didn't want to be seen as weak, I didn't want to see her hurting. I've no idea how to deal with anyone who's that messed up by their life never mind it being Hawke. The indestructible madwoman that she was.

Somewhere between her sobs and my attempts to soothe her I'd shuffled her over to the bed. It wasn't uncommon for her to sleep over when we'd had a night of heavy drinking - we'd both just pass out on top of the mattress fully clothed after lying there laughing until our stomachs ached over some stupid tale or joke. This time I laid her down and tucked her in under the covers. She didn't protest, in all honesty I'm not sure she even knew what was happening.

I wasn't sure what to do with her other than let her get it all out of her system and get her some sleep. She could work on cleaning herself up another time. As I went to give her a bit of space she grabbed my wrist.

"V-Varric," she choked out, starting to calm a little but with a voice raw from crying. "Could you just stay with me a little while, I don't want to be alone."

"I wasn't going to leave you here by yourself, I'm not that heartless."

"I mean can you, could you maybe just lie here with me."

Not one to let a friend down I tried my best comforting smile and did as she asked, I didn't get under the covers - partly because Hawke made anything she was near as hot as a furnace but also because once she'd fallen asleep I intended to clean off her armour and give her some space to spread out and rest up. She managed a small smile at that.

"Hey, you remember last time this sort of thing happened?"

I nodded, how could I forget?

"You said you wouldn't be going anywhere. Did you mean that?"

For some reason this was more upsetting than the rest of the night had been, and that was saying something.

"Of course, where would you be without your dashing dwarf accomplice?"

"In deep shit, I think."

We both grinned despite ourselves.

Hawke seemed satisfied then, and I began to stroke her hair and generally try to calm her into a restful slumber.

I didn't know it was going to happen, but there was something about the topic, the heavy air and the heat of the room that pushed us together. She was lonely and in pain, so was I. Both of us wanted something tender, something to remind us that we weren't alone and that not everything in this world is doom and hurt. It was over before I realised it had begun. Where my hand had been thumbing circles on her tearstained cheek it rested still. Our lips had touched only momentarily but they still had done.

I'm not sure I would even refer to it as a kiss, as much as a quick brush of her lips on mine. I don't know what I felt at that moment, I did my best to repress anything that might have surfaced from that interaction and I did a damn good job of it. Neither of us said anything about it, and continued on as normal. Whatever that meant.

I don't think either of us were willing to confront it, whatever it was. There had been enough soul searching done recently to last us both a lifetime, and we weren't about to examine our friendship any further than we already had been. We were best friends, we comforted each other in a time of need, and for a long time that kiss would be referred to as the kind that siblings might share. Then it wasn't referred to at all, until we realised a refusal to acknowledge it lent it more credit than it deserved. We tried to integrate it into our lives, allowed ourselves more familiarity with each other's personal space.

Maybe if we let our friendship become a more physically casual one things would feel less weird. For a time, they did.

Only for a time, mind you.

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First chapter with anything shippy in it, of course they're still stubborn babies, but we love them for it. Hope everyone enjoyed this one! Trying to stay regular with updates.