Disclaimer: I own nothing, I make no money.

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay. Health issues. And then I kind of lost my momentum for this piece. Hope to get it back soon. Please enjoy.

Interlocking

Chapter Twenty Eight: A Simple Thing

"'Will you let me?' There is the slow quirk of her lip as she nods." - Krem and Harding find each other in a world torn apart. A story told in brief glimpses.

They are back in Skyhold the next day. Many of the wounded from the Adamant battle fill the empty rooms and lower courtyard of the keep. Healers and bandages make their way around the troops. It is a long, agonizing day filled with the low moans of suffering and the heavy sighs of loved ones. Many do not make it into the night.

Harding is kept in one of the higher levels of the southeastern tower, surrounded by half a dozen other wounded on their bedspreads. Healer Belinda is assigned to their quarters, and the older, stark mage is just leaving when Krem makes his way to the top of the stairs and looks about the room.

Belinda plants her hands on her hips. "My wards are resting, messere. Please do not disturb them."

He opens his mouth to speak, his hand light along the wooden rail of the tower stairs, when Harding's voice catches his attention.

"Krem," she calls anxiously, trying to keep to a whisper among the resting wounded.

He finds her in the corner, sitting up against one wall.

Belinda looks back and sees the warm welcome on the dwarf's face. She sighs, her mouth pulling into a tight frown, and she turns to point a finger in the air at Krem. "Be quick, messere. And quiet." She moves past him and Krem turns to give the older woman access to the stairwell. He looks up to find Harding motioning him over. He makes his way past two other wounded scouts lying on their mats, asleep, and squats beside Harding.

She smirks, and crooks a finger toward him, her eyes glinting mischievously.

He chuckles, and leans toward her, planting his lips along hers in soft greeting. She sighs into his kiss and he feels the corners of her lips tilt into a smile against his mouth. She tastes like crystal grace and vanilla.

He pulls back and looks at her. "How's my girl?"

"Better now you're here." Her hand rests along the bandages of her ribs.

He narrows his eyes at her wound. "They still can't close it fully?"

She frowns slightly, her eyes drifting down to her bandages. "They say it's something to do with all the magic that happened at Adamant. Healing is taking longer." She looks back up to him. "A lot of people aren't stitching back quite the same."

Krem is quiet and still for a moment, his brows furrowed as he gazes at her.

Her eyes soften. "Don't worry. It'll just take time. The worst is over."

His jaw flexes as he swallows tightly. "I've heard some scary stories from other wounded."

She cocks her head in question.

"About being in the Fade?" he clarifies.

"Ah," Harding sighs. She nods, shifting against the wall at her back. "Yeah. I take it that's where I was too. Not too sure, having never been and all." Her chuckle is laced with the dark remembrance of such a shifting, unknowable world.

Krem lowers himself from his squat to sit beside her against the wall. He looks out over the slumbering wounded scouts sharing the tower room. He pulls his knees up and rests his hands along them. "I guess it could have been worse than winding up in the Fade." His eyes are on his hands when he says it, his voice a hesitant thought.

Harding does not want to think about could have been. She sniffs and rubs a hand along her nose, shrugging. "Well, at least I've found a new love for my dwarven heritage. The rest of you can keep the blasted Fade." She waves a hand through the air, wincing slightly at the motion.

Krem eyes her worriedly, silently.

She glances at him. "Don't worry," she repeats, her breath stressing the words. "Just can't stretch quite fully yet." She fingers the edge of her blanket in her hands.

"You need to rest."

"I know," she sighs wearily.

"You're not going to be up and at it anytime soon."

"I know," she huffs, her fingers clenching her blanket. "I just…" She sighs, her eyes on her fingers bunched in her lap. "I know, Krem. It just doesn't make it any easier when you say it."

He opens his mouth slightly, then licks his lips in hesitation. The tower room is filled with the soft slumbering noises of the others. "I'm sorry," he breathes quietly.

She glances at him, her lips pursed. She sighs and leans her head back against the wall. "I know. And I'm sorry, too. I'm just…still not used to this bedrest thing. I can't wait to get out of this stupid tower. To be back with my men. Pull a bow again." A huff of frustration leaves her lips as she watches the ceiling. "Maker, I can't even brush my own hair."

Krem leans his head back as well and looks at her, a slow smile spreading over his lips. "I can do that."

She blinks up at him, her lips parted slightly. "It's…" She shakes her head and laughs. "It's silly. Don't worry about it."

Krem looks to the loose pile of twists and braids atop her head, several wisps curling free of their pins. He smiles. And it feels so long since he has known the feeling. "I want to." He looks back down to her eyes and finds her watching him intently. She looks so small and fierce and lovely.

Her nose scrunches in indecision.

He lifts his head from its lean on the wall to fully look at her. "Will you let me?"

There is the slow quirk of her lip as she nods.

Later, when her hair is tumbling down past her shoulders, she closes her eyes and tries to memorize the feel of his touch, the gentle thread of his fingers, the reverent trail of the brush in his hands.

He pulls the strands from her face and the light trail of his fingertips against her cheek sets a welcome tremble along her skin. She releases a slow, easy sigh. The room is quiet and warm around them. She can hear him breathing steadily behind her.

It is a simple thing.

Krem wants to do this for her.

She lets him.

And sometime between brushes, Harding falls in love.