Some time passed, bit by bit our ragtag group found reasons to pursue their own interests in their down time. Our late night meetings were becoming less frequent now that things were entering a relatively quiet spell in Kirkwall.

I spent the entire day tending to business with the Merchant's Guild, finally gathering the willpower to address some lose ends that Bartrand had left behind when he died. Truthfully I thought of my brother's death as being on the day he found the idol. We killed him, I killed him, but he was already dead when the bolt hit his chest. What hadn't died, however, was the paperwork demon I was currently battling.

Boredom was something I was no longer used to, there was always something going on somewhere with Hawke and the others, but it seemed like we'd entered a rare period of peace. It was a lull in the excitement that lead to discussions of homes and settling down and pets. Any time I imagined Hawke with a normal life I would laugh to myself, she just wasn't that way inclined. Maybe one day, but I felt like there was a lot more energy she needed to burn off before she was ready to give up on her freedom.

It was becoming common for us not to hear from each other for days only to pop up with an excuse to venture out of the city or get up to no good. This was one such point in time, with Hawke nowhere to be found since four days prior. Her excursions featured Fenris the majority of the time now, and despite my best efforts to get along with him, the awkwardness was evident. I figured that was the reason Hawke called on me less recently. There hadn't been any mention of what occurred between us many months ago, and I doubted there ever would be.

Friends are strange, people you let into certain parts of your life and cut out from others. They're there when you need them, and you try your best to be there for them too. If years pass without seeing one another you can bet that you'll still have something in common at the end of it and a familiarity that never leaves you.

Best friends or almost lovers are another thing entirely. What Hawke and I share is another thing entirely. With her there's no way to cut her out from anything, you tell her what you're thinking regardless of if you intend to or not - because even if you don't she'll read you like a book. There was never any doubt that she would be there for you and you'd be there for her, and I knew that even if we never spoke again until our final days it would be as if we were never apart.

Now I like to think of that as the mark of a true friend, of someone with whom you share a bond stronger than blood. If you can pick up where you left off as if nothing happened, then you'll never really grow apart from one another.

The sun sank low in the sky and with it came a chilling evening breeze. As I stood to close the window the door to the room swung open slowly and Hawke stood in the open space beyond.

"Hawke!" I called, excited to see her after so long. "What brings you here?"

Before she had even spoken I'd uncorked a bottle of wine and made space at the table for her to come and sit down. She sat across from me, I was still rambling on about unimportant things and when I eventually had the courtesy to look at her properly I could tell something was wrong. My words died in my throat.

"Hawke?"

She blinked away a couple of tears forming at the edges of her eyes and reached for the glass I'd poured her.

"It's Fenris."

I swallowed a lump in my throat, if that elf had gotten himself killed I'd get a necromancer to raise him so I could kill him again.

"I, I mean we…" she trailed off, taking a deep breath. "We slept together."

This confused me, what would upset her about that? Did he say something about her erm, techniques?

"Right?" I offered as the only response I could think of.

"He left this morning."

"Ah."

That made more sense, he'd ditched her. That bastard.

"It's not like that," she continued as if she'd read my inner monologue on my face. "It's… He said he remembered some things. It was upsetting for him. He apologised a lot, said he felt a fool, but in the end he left me."

This was complicated and not something I knew how to fix. It sounded like a lot more was going on in Fenris' head than either of us could comprehend - which was hardly surprising, the guy was a walking enigma. As far as comfort went I wasn't sure what to say to her. I settled for alcohol fuelled distraction and building her self-esteem back up.

"Well that's his loss then."

She perked up a bit, looking at me with a questioning expression as I refilled both our glasses.

"His loss?"

"Of all the women he'll ever meet, he let the best one go."

The smile she gave me then was genuine, and I raised my glass towards her before taking a large swig.

"Thanks, Varric."

We spent the rest of the evening drinking, playing cards and talking about the kinds of things we always used to. Somewhere between the third and fourth bottle of wine - or was it fifth? - things became confused. Jokes faded into a haze and memories were floating just out of grasp.

But it was warm, and it was comfortable.

When I awoke the next morning it was the sign of a troubling trend.

I remembered nothing of the previous night, but I awoke in bed with Hawke. I write it that way because it's exactly as it sounds. I couldn't bring up any solid memories but I had recollections of sensations. There was enough there coupled with the compromising position I had woken in to figure out that we'd done the exact opposite of putting everything to one side and ignoring it.

Even though it was a bad idea I couldn't resist looking over Hawke's sleeping form in the lowlight. It was no secret that she was beautiful, I'd told her as much more than a few times before.

There was a softness to her when she slept that not many people had the privilege of witnessing. When she lay in bed like this there was no ignoring her silent grace. Milky skin and smooth neck, with shoulders sculpted and sinewed. The stark contrast of her raven hair made her appear otherworldly. Not everyone believes me when I tell them I believe in the Maker, and Andraste as his prophet. Whether you believe or not, something about the way the early morning sunlight hit the contours of Hawke's form was practically religious. I tore my eyes away from her before I stared too long to do so, and rested my forehead in my palms. Was it better to leave and say nothing of it? How much did Hawke remember if anything at all? As I was readying myself for a swift departure, she spoke to me. She hadn't moved a muscle and was facing away from me, I had assumed she was still sleeping.

"Varric."

She pleaded, it almost tore my heart in half. I valued her friendship above all else, there was no way I could jeopardise it, whatever this was, whatever we were doing had to either stop or we had to ignore it.

"Can you just," she paused, unsure of herself.

Eventually she rolled over to look at me haphazardly over her shoulder. Her grey-blue eyes were intense and narrowed with tiredness, smudges of makeup making her look even more worse for wear. The way her fringe fell in her face should have been illegal.

"Can you help me nurse this hangover."

Offering a smile she rubbed a temple for effect. I smiled too, I was worried about many things she could have said in that moment. There was a clear understanding between us that both were aware of what had happened, even if we didn't really remember it. She'd offered me a get-out-free card. I made sure to take it.

"Sure thing hun, you had a real skin full."

"Oh and you didn't?"

And just like that things were back to the way they were. We didn't talk about the previous night, so it never happened.