.xl.

"I think she's coming to."

"Be careful. We don't know how much she knows or remembers."

"Let's hope she doesn't try to attack us again. That was unpleasant."

"In her defense, she did have a lumbering oaf of a spirit trying to "bring her to justice" or whatever in the hell he was on about."

She listens to the words, trying to bring her mind to understand them. Her mind is hazy like she's fallen asleep in the middle of the day and woken with no understanding of what's going on.

"She's moving, look."

The demons. She remembers. Danarius' minions. But... Danarius is dead. She saw him die. Saw the white haired demon-

She knows him, something, so close but just out of reach, something about his eyes, his movement, this demon is trying to replicate something, someone she knows. But how can it do that if she can't even remember who it's supposed to be impersonating? And there is the voices, which she is fearful of, wary wary that they speak in hushed whispers. But they haven't killed her yet, so perhaps she has mistaken them. Perhaps.

"She's awake," someone breathes in warning as she pushes herself up. Underneath her hands is something soft. A bed? She is not where she was before. The last thing she remembers is cold stone and darkness, faint red lights flickering in shadows. And terrible pain. It's dark where she is now, but it's not the same place, that much she can tell with a cursory glance. And the pain... it's not completely gone, but it's still unmistakably there. She can feel the air pressing on her arm, the pressure of the room, every small gust of wind or movement she can feel.

Gradually, she surveys the room. The people, the voices, stand in the room in a small cluster, not as many as before. The blue one that called itself Justice is gone, a strange name for a demon, and she wonders if she managed to destroy it with its own power. The white haired one is gone too, and this agitates her the most, though she can't place why. Maybe he's the leader? But... hadn't that been Danarius?

"Hawke," one of them ventures. Hawke. Her. She is Hawke. She remembers that. Her name, her title, her burden. Her father flashes in her minds eye, laughing, showing her how to hold her staff, to cast a spell, and then it is gone as quickly as it came.

"I am," she confirms, more for herself, to test the word, the name. "I am... Hawke."

"Thank the Maker she remembers that. What else do you remember?" the one from before, the dwarf, Varric.

"I remember you," she answers, seemingly to his great approval. "I remember that I owe you three sovereigns because you beat me at Wicked Grace."

He laughs aloud, drawing closer. "Always good for your debts, even when you can barely remember them."

"What about me?" Carver asks. Carver! More flashes, filling in missing pieces, blank spots in her mind. Fights when they were younger, friendship as they grew, or at least, more friendship than before. Something's... missing, but for the most part she can remember him. "Of course! You're my brother."

He looks like he might cry. "Oh. Good. Glad that's still there." She wants to hug him, make sure he's real, but she keeps herself from doing so because she's still not sure...

"And me? Can you remember me?" Brushed back hair and bright eyes, she knows him, but she can't recall it readily. "Se... Seb?"

"Sebastian Vael," he fills in, smiling kindly. "It's alright. Fenris said that you might not be able to recall everything, that your mind will take time to recover."

"That's your grandfather's bow," she states, pointing to the weapon slung across his back. "I found it on a Flint Company Mercenary. You said you would snap it in half to bring back the lowliest servant, I remember you saying that." Sebastian nods in surprise. "I did say that. But I barely remembered it myself."

"Not your name, but a conversation you two had years ago," Varric huffs. "This is going to be... interesting."

"I want to know the truth. Are you demons in disguise, or are you truly people?" Hawke ventures.

"If we really were demons do you really think we would tell you?" the gold adorned one laughs; glinting jewelry and daggers, sovereigns and lock picks strewn across a table next to a tiny ship in a bottle. Friendship tested, a terrible fight, but they endured. Isabela.

"I don't suppose so, Isabela, but it's worth a try anyway," she shrugs, and the rogue's face transforms from a small smirk to a brilliant, shocked smile. "She remembers me too!"

Rediscovering who these people are only brings more questions. "I'm- If this is real, I don't belong here. I'm supposed to be in Kirkwall. How did I get here?"

"You were kidnapped, gone for months," the red head answers; what a nice night for an evening, always where you need, there with her since the beginning, no matter her stupid choices, or foolish words; Aveline. She almost doesn't hear the answer she's so shocked by her recognition. "Aveline."

Aveline looks surprised, but pleased. "It's me Hawke. It's all us. We came after you when we found out you'd gone missing. Danarius didn't leave a lot of clues, so it was difficult to track you down."

"Damn bastard was trying to have us bring Fenris right back to him," Carver spits. "Guess that was his plan all along, to have you both. Bastard," he mutters impotently.

"Danarius," she repeats. She remembers hatred for him, but the reason is... vague. Why? He had hurt someone else but... the more she tries to puzzle it out, the hazier it seems.

"He's the one who did that to you," Isabela gestures to Hawkes arm. She lifts her arm and inspects it. White lines intertwine along her arm, reaching from the beds of her nails to her elbow. When she tentatively runs a finger along them they pulse painfully, making her gasp in shock. It feels real...

"It is really us, Hawke," Sebastian assures, gingerly kneeling in front of her and offering his hand. "We'll do whatever we can to prove it to you, but we need your help, quickly.

"Fenris has been hurt. Do you remember him yet?" Hawke shakes her head slightly, the name is slightly familiar, but still brings forth no images, no memories. "Anders depleted his mana and can't heal him, neither can Merrill. We've used all the health potions and lyrium we have. We won't make it back to safe land in time for him to be taken to a healer. You're the only one who can help him."

"No pressure," she smirks.

Varric laughs aloud. "No pressure, Hawke. You can do this. We just need you to trust us. What's the worst that could happen?"

"You could be demons and I could be damning my eternal soul."

Silence.

Varric clears his throat, trying again. "Fair enough. But before you decide, let us show him to you. Maybe you'll remember then."

To proceed to the "good ending", please advance to the next chapter.

For the "bad ending", please skip the next chapter and read 42.

Author's Note: Ah! Guys! I'm back! (Lookin at you MC, you babe, you). I apologize profusely, the last few weeks have been crazier than I expected (I went to court for the first time, got a job, and graduated high school), so I really haven't had the time to write or update. Seems like the action is starting to slow down, so I bring you more, as promised! I told you I'd see it to the end, and I meant it! And there's more to come!

This is the chapter wherein I allow the reader to make a choice between the good and bad endings, which I will be posting once they are both completed (finished with one, finishing up the other). When that's all done I'll edit this chapter to let you know where to go to read the ending of your choice.

Thank you all so much for being patient, and for sticking with me despite the radio silence. Enjoy!