Disclaimer: I own nothing, I make no money.

Author's Note: I have been focusing on a separate writing challenge recently, and so I put Interlocking on a bit of a back burner the last couple of weeks. I'm happy to get back into it though and shower you wonderful people with updates. Please enjoy.

Interlocking

Chapter Thirty One: Tell Her

"Bull raises a brow in question before the thought occurs to him, and he lowers his mug. 'You have told her you love her, right?'" - Krem and Harding find each other in a world torn apart. A story told in brief glimpses.

Krem is drunk.

At least, this is what Harding gathers from his boisterousness, his sloppy movements, his easy and unguarded manner as he sits with Bull and the Chargers across the tavern. She watches him all night. He barely looks at her.

It makes the anger easier and welcomed as it bubbles up inside her. It is not long before she leaves the loud and laughter-filled tavern for the chill night air.

She does not notice Krem's eyes following her.

"So what's the deal with your old lady?" Bull questions Krem as he raises his tankard to his lips.

Krem narrows his eyes to his commander beside him, lifting his legs up to plant atop the seat of Skinner's recently vacated chair. "You know I hate that term."

"You know I hate you dodging questions," he quips back, his smile somewhat hidden behind his mug.

Krem scowls and settles deeper in his chair, cradling his almost-empty tankard in his lap. "Nothing. Just let me have my drink tonight." At Bull's raised brow and expectant face, Krem rolls his eyes and shifts in his chair, huffing. "Just a spat." He grumbles softly, taking a sip of ale. "A stupid, pointless spat."

"Ah," Bull hums, leaning back so that his bulky arm rests over the back of the large bench he sits at. "Those are the ones you've got to look out for. They sneak up on you. No warning. No defense." He takes a sip. "Sometimes they steal your coin, too."

Krem levels a crooked grin and a raised brow his way. "Well this one wasn't doing too much sneaking, according to Harding."

Bull retains his respectful silence as he drinks, his eyes dancing around the lively room. He knows his lieutenant well enough to know when he wants to lay out a story.

Krem sighs, one finger tapping along the side of his tankard. "Says she's been feeling it for a while."

"Feeling what?"

Krem moves to rub along the back of his neck with one hand. "Scared. About when I go off on the line." He purses his lips, his hand dropping back down to his lap. "And angry. Because I'm worried for her."

Bull shifts his weight in his chair. "And your problem with her feeling these things is because…?"

Skinner returns to the group with four mugs in her hands, placing them on the table for the Chargers to grab at before she swats at Krem's boots resting on her chair. He drops his feet back to the floor, leaning forward to plant his empty mug on the table-top. He heaves an exasperated sigh. "I just don't get why she can't understand that I'm worried because she almost died."

"She gets it. Believe me, she gets it. Harding's smart. And she's strong. Probably more than you realize if she's only just now saying something."

Krem flicks a weary glance to Bull. "I just can't lose her. I thought…I mean…fuck, I don't know." He shakes his head and leans his elbows along his knees, his ale forgotten on the table.

There is the heavy exhale of a sigh from Bull. "This doesn't exactly sound like 'stupid' and 'pointless' to me."

"I know", he groans, running his hands through his hair. "I just don't know how to explain things to her."

"Explain what?" Bull prods.

Krem snorts. "I don't get why it never occurred to me before, that she'd be worried for me when I went out on a mission. I just never…never imagined a world where I didn't come back to her."

Bull is silent for many moments as he watches his lieutenant.

"It's stupid, I know," Krem sighs, leaning back in his chair, hands heavy on his knees.

A slight smirk spreads across Bull's lips. "It's not stupid. You're both just frightened and unfocused. You're thinking too hard on the bad and not enough on the good."

Krem rubs at his chin as he contemplates Bull's words. "The bad, huh?"

"Yeah," Bull shrugs. "You know, the moment she fell over the wall. That feeling of helplessness. The not knowing. The anxiety. The moments without her."

Krem furrows his brows and looks at the table, bores his gaze hard into the wood. His fingers grip his knees tightly.

Bull takes a large gulp of his ale and sighs in satisfaction as he downs the remains. "You're not thinking of all those times you returned to each other. Or the way you feel in each other's arms. The looks. The easiness. The relief. The times you told each other 'I love you' and meant it." Bull plants his empty mug on the table and wipes a hand across his mouth to dry it, looking down at his lieutenant beside him. "That. That is what you think of when shit gets too hard. When you are without each other." He sniffs loudly, wrinkling his nose, glancing over the table for one of the tankards Skinner had brought. "Don't worry. You guys'll get it. Soon enough."

Krem opens his mouth to speak as he watches Bull, but pulls his lip back into his mouth to chew at it worriedly.

Bull stops his tankard halfway to his mouth when he catches the look. "What?"

Krem cocks his head and lets out a soft chuckle. But it is colored in trepidation and hesitance. "We haven't…I mean, we've never said…"

Bull raises a brow in question before the thought occurs to him, and he lowers his mug. "You have told her you love her, right?"

Krem pulls one shoulder up in a jerky, self-conscious shrug, his hands going palms up in the air. "No, but – "

"Oh for the love of – "

"But she's got to know, right? I mean, with everything…" Krem trails off and cannot keep Bull's heavy, disapproving gaze.

"That's not what I asked. Have you told her? It's an entirely separate thing. She has to hear it from you." Bull plants one hand on his thigh, leaning his weight on the limb to crane his neck in incredulous disbelief at Krem.

Krem sighs and rubs his hands down his face. "Maker."

"I'll say."

Krem moves to stand, stumbling somewhat with the speed of it and the haziness of the ale, grasping at the table to steady himself. The Chargers around the table glance up at him, but soon return to their stories and their drinks. Krem turns to say something to Bull but stops as the qunari simply waves him off.

"Go."

Krem moves for the door. For Harding.