A/N: First off, a special thanks to rednightmare and TraiNe-Fresh for reviewing. It really warms my heart that you guys took that extra little time to say what you think. I have tried to fix the problems with my dialogue streaming, so I'm hoping that will be better now. (Thanks so so much for pointing that out :):) I always appreciate help and constructive criticism.) Anyway… here's the next chapter. Work is starting to pile up for me, so if these chapters start taking a little longer to submit, please just bear with me. :)

Chapter 4

Don't worry you'll show them,

There's a fire in your eyes,

And I hope you'll let it burn,

There's a scream in your voice,

And I hope you will be heard.

-The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, Seventeen Aint So Sweet.

The sun had long since abandoned its fight against the darkness when Abigail Hawke and her small group finally returned to Lowtown. Deep shadows blanketed the city, casting a menacing light upon the ramshackle buildings and alley-ways. Heavy smoke from the city foundries had once more asserted itself across the sky, blocking off what meager light the moon might have provided. The streets were hauntingly quiet, in sharp contrast to the hustle and bustle of the daytime. Abigail's eyes flickered around the darkness constantly, all too aware that the nights of Kirkwall belonged to bandits. She spared a momentary glance back at her three companions. Two were heavily armored, one didn't need to be. But all three of them were more than capable in a fight. Abby nibbled at her bottom lip worriedly as she considered their weary, blood splattered forms. At least she hoped they would be capable in a fight… All four of them were exhausted from a wasted day spent chasing after Javaris Tintop, a man in turned out they didn't need to find. Instead they had been forced to return to Lowtown in search of some mystery elf that Javaris had referred to. Upon arriving back in Kirkwall, one of Aveline's men had hurriedly informed her that there was a commotion down in Lowtown. Someone had let off poisonous gas in a side alley.

I wonder who? Abby thought sarcastically.

By the time she, Aveline, Fenris and Isabela reached the side alley, it was too late. Or at least that's what the guard standing outside told them.

"What do you mean we're too late?" Aveline demanded, folding her arms impatiently across her chest.

The guard shifted his weight from one foot to the other nervously. "I mean, somebody already went in there to fix the problem… About ten minutes ago,"

"And you just let him in there, did you?" the Guard Captain was growing more frustrated by the minute. "For all you know he could be dead already!"

"He… he seemed pretty confident," the guard stammered, not meeting Aveline's furious glare.

Abigail sighed loudly. This little argument was getting them absolutely nowhere and meanwhile, some poor sod was probably choking on poisonous gas while trying to play hero. The mage placed a delicate hand on Aveline's shoulder, hoping to calm the Guard Captain down.

"It doesn't matter who went in there," she said placatingly. "We should probably go and check it out for ourselves regardless,"

"Another day, another wasted mission trying to save the world," Isabela muttered sarcastically from behind her. Abigail rolled her eyes in irritation, but didn't bother dignifying Isabela's comment with a response. For some inexplicable reason, the usually cheerful pirate had been in a particularly bad mood the entire day.

"Come on," she said impatiently, waving them forwards. She headed into the alleyway, surprised to find that the gas the guard had described was not much more than a few wispy green plumes of smoke which clung to the cobbled floor. Either Aveline's men were prone to exaggeration, or the mystery man who had headed inside ten minutes before them must have done something to fix the problem.

"Dear Maker!" Aveline suddenly hissed.

The four of them stopped, staring around the side alley in wide eyed surprise. At least twenty or so bandit corpses littered the floor. The guard outside had said nothing about bandits, which meant that these bodies had to be a recent addition. At the far end of the alleyway, a raven haired man stood in front of a blonde elf, speaking to her in a low, even voice. He turned towards them as they approached, his brilliant blue eyes flickering over them with obvious relief.

"I found your culprit," he told them, gesturing towards the elf. Abigail was startled to see that he had tightly bound the girl's wrists behind her back with a length of rope. "From what I can gather, she's a bit of a heretic. All her babbling is giving me a damn headache too. Could you take her from here?"

"Wait a second! Are you meaning to tell me that you killed all these bandits and somehow managed to subdue this girl?" Aveline asked, her green eyes wide.

The stranger shook his head, smiling charmingly.

Damn. Abby thought, her stomach aflutter. He is hot.

"Of course not," he responded. "I simply came down here, found this nut over here running around unplugging all these barrels and decided to stop her before she hurt somebody,"

"You liar!" the elf spat. "He ripped through my bandits like they were nothing," she hissed. "He ruined everything!"

"Very impressive," Abigail told him, returning his smile. "You shouldn't be so modest,"

"The elf's exaggerating," he replied with a shrug, looking slightly uncomfortable. "You should get her out of here before she starts spouting more nonsense about the Qunari,"

As if on cue, the elf began her tirade. "How dare you? Do you know what my people have gone through? They abandon their faith, then go to the Qun for purpose…"

Aveline reached forwards and grabbed the girl's arm, roughly moving her forwards. "Come on," she sighed. "You can explain all the many reasons you had for destroying an entire street once we reach the gallows. I'm sure the Viscount will be fascinated to hear it all," she glanced back at the dark haired stranger. "Thank you… I don't even know your name…"

"It's Dagger," he told her. His brow furrowed. "No wait… That wasn't it… Bade? No… Dirk! My name is Dirk," he said triumphantly, flashing them another gorgeous grin.

"He's drunk," Isabela commented, smiling for the first time that day.

"Just a little bit," he replied, winking at her.

"Well, Dirk," Abby said, extending a hand towards him. "I'm Hawke. Pleased to meet you,"

He took her hand gently and shook it. "A pleasure. And your friends are…?" he added, glancing behind her.

"Oh!" Abby blushed a little at her lack of manners. "This is Fenris, Isabela and that's Aveline," she added, pointing to the Guard Captain who had already made her way to the entrance of the alleyway, still struggling with the angry elf fanatic.

"How did you manage to dispose of these men?" Fenris asked suspiciously. "There isn't a scrap of blood on your clothes or your blades,"

"Fenris," Hawke hissed softly, knowing exactly where the elf was going with his line of interrogation. "Stop it!"

"He's an apostate," the former slave snarled.

"So am I," she replied heatedly. "What do you intend to do about it?" she turned around to glare at him, her piercing blue eyes meeting his bright green ones with anger. This was an age old argument between them, and one which she was certain they would never resolve.

"He could be a blood mage for all we know,"

"Well seeing as though there isn't any blood around I guess that answers your question," Isabela chipped in, gesturing around the quiet alleyway with one hand. She glanced over at Dirk. "You wouldn't happen to be a blood mage, would you?"

He shook his head, smirking in bemusement. "No, no I'm not,"

Abby continued to glare at Fenris, waiting until he finally dropped his gaze away from her before turning back to Dirk.

"I think what Fenris is trying to say, is thank you. You saved a lot of lives tonight, Dirk," she said, her voice still clipped with anger. "Why don't you let me buy you a drink to say thanks?"

He shook his head quickly, grimacing. "I think I've had more than enough to drink for one day…"

"Then let me buy you something to eat," she responded quickly. For some, inexplicable reason, she just couldn't allow him to simply walk away from her.

He nodded his head slowly. "Thanks," he said softly. Behind her, Abby heard Fenris utter a soft curse. Pointedly ignoring him, she fell into step with Dirk as they walked out of the side ally. They found Aveline waiting for them just outside.

"Where's the elf?" Fenris asked.

"I sent her with my guardsman to the gallows," the red-haired guardswoman sighed. "Thank you for apprehending her Dirk,"

"It was nothing," he replied, distractedly glancing up and down the street. His blue eyes fell upon the unconscious form of a short-haired young blonde girl who lay propped up against a nearby wall and he walked to her side and knelt down with a grimace, scooping her up into his arms. A brotherly look of tenderness crossed his features as the girl wound her arms around his neck, mumbling incoherently.

"Are we still lost?" the girl muttered, wide grey eyes flickering momentarily open.

Dirk nodded his head, smiling down at her. "Go back to sleep Parish. I'll get you back safely,"

She closed her eyes again, her head lolling against his shoulder.

"Lost?" Abby echoed, moving closer to them. "Do you need help getting somewhere?"

"My ship is down at the docks," he replied a little sheepishly. "But Maker help me I just can't figure out how to get back there,"

"Your ship?" Isabela's voice was sharp. Abby turned to stare at her curiously. The pirate's gold eyes were ablaze with interest.

"That's what I said," Dirk replied evenly, frowning a little at the rapt attention on Isabela's face. He shifted Parish's weight in his arms. "Is there somewhere she can sleep for a couple of hours? The Captain will have me keelhauled for getting his First Mate drunk like this,"

"I have a room at the Hanged Man," Isabela offered instantly. "She can sleep it off there while Hawke buys you a meal,"

"The Hanged Man?" his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Would that be the dirty hovel I just spent the past four hours getting drunk in?"

"Hey!" Isabela protested. "That dirty hovel is the best tavern in Lowtown,"

"I think it's actually the only tavern in Lowtown," Aveline broke in.

Dirk smirked. "That would explain how the owner gets away with serving rat droppings in his ale,"

Isabela placed her hands on her hips, glaring at him in mock anger. She opened her mouth to retort back, but the words died on her lips as a shout echoed down the streets towards them.

"Amell! By Andraste's flaming knickers, where the hell have you been?"

The five of them all turned to stare at the dark haired, burly giant of a man who was striding towards them.

"Crap," Dirk hissed, momentary panic flitting across his features. "Captain Reynold!" he called back, in a louder voice. "So glad you found us,"

The Captain reached their side, his dark eyes narrowing as he stared down at the unconscious girl in Dirk's arms.

"Dear Maker, Amell. What did you do to Parish?"

Amell? Abby thought in surprise, recognizing her mother's family name. She cast a quizzical glance towards Dirk. Who was this man?

"I found her passed out in some tavern!" Dirk replied, his voice scandalized. "I think the other sailors got her drunk,"

Abby suppressed a smirk at his words. She distinctly remembered the raven haired stranger admitting that he was the one who had gotten the young girl drunk. Apparently Dirk Amell was an expert liar.

"Bloody fool," the Captain sighed. "I always thought Parish was smart enough to stay out of trouble,"

"Apparently not," Dirk replied unrepentantly.

"We should probably get her back to the ship," Reynold said.

Dirk nodded his head. He glanced at Abby apologetically. "I should probably go with her. I guess we'll have to get dinner some other time,"

"Amell?" Hawke asked, before she could stop herself. "Your name is Amell?"

Something in his eyes changed at the name. The teasing light that had been there only moments before was replaced by transient suspicion.

"What about it?"

"My mother's name is Leandra Amell. Any chance we're related?" she tried to keep her voice light, but she couldn't quite hide the hope behind her words. Even as she said it, she was suddenly struck by the similarities between them. They both had the same clear, tanned complexion, the same raven hair and intensely blue eyes. They even shared the same ability to perform magic. She unconsciously held her breath as he scanned her face, realizing that the same thoughts were going through his head.

"Tristan," Reynold said suddenly, staring between the pair of them curiously. "Who are your friends?"

"Tristan?" Aveline repeated sharply, suspicion flaring to life within her. "I thought you said your name was Dirk?"

He shook his head, still staring at Abigail. "I was trying not to draw too much attention to myself. I thought an alias might be easier," he admitted. His blue eyes flickered briefly over to Reynold. "Parish's idea," he told him, and the burly man nodded, smiling knowingly.

"So your name is Tristan?" Abby said, her brow furrowing as she uttered the name out loud. There was something so familiar about it… "Tristan Amell," she tried his full name out, and suddenly everything clicked into place. "Dear Maker… You're the Hero of Ferelden,"