Hawke's POV

My parents decided to throw me a surprise party for my 6th birthday. There were balloons everywhere, the entire neighborhood showed up and they rented a bouncy house… I mean, this was a big deal for my town. But my mother wanted more. So she hired entertainment. I learned two things that day. 1. I hate surprises. 2. The only thing worse than surprises are clowns. I don't know if it's the white face paint, or the way they act, or that you have to be a weird ass motherfucker to become a clown, but they freak me out. I almost felt bad for Mr. Bongo after I kicked him in the genitals. But that didn't stop me from shrieking like a banshee and running to find my dad.

I remember how scared he looked as I climbed into his arms. He kept asking me what was wrong, but I couldn't stop crying long enough to answer. My mother joined us then and told him what had happened. You should have heard him laugh. He kept laughing and laughing until he was crying. He nearly died as the clown limped over to mom and asked for his payment and a bag of ice.

But after the presents were opened and the cheesecake was eaten, my father pulled me aside. He told me that people surprise him every day. Not with parties or presents, but simply by being themselves. He said that he'd never of expected me to kick a clown. But he was glad that I did because we both learned something from it. I learned that he hated clowns just as much as I did.

But just in the last hour, I had three striking revelations about my friends, each more unexpected than the last.

First, Isabela isn't just a sex-goddess and a nerd undercover. She's a lover, and not just in the sexual sense. I can't understand how someone who has been so disregarded throughout her life could show so much affection toward someone she's known for such a short time; namely Merrill. Me, I kind of get. We have sex. But Merrill? It dawned on me at the café. She was genuinely hurt by seeing her friend unhappy. She sympathized, like any normal person would.

I gathered our boxed lunches while Varric paid the bill and Isabela told Daisy jokes, hoping to get her to smile. It wasn't a major success, but she wasn't crying anymore. She certainly wasn't required to entertain my roommate, any more than she was required to bring her out with us last night. But she wanted to show her new friend a good time and maybe help her discover herself. It was selfless. It was beautiful. And it was something I could only hope to see from her.

We shuffled out of the café in relative silence. Isabela carefully handed her Kitten off to Varric for a moment and waved me toward her car. I leaned back against the trunk, sticking my hands in my pockets.

"What's the plan, Hawke?" My girlfriend asked bluntly as she stood before me, combing her hair back with her fingers.

"I don't know yet. I just need to talk to Aveline. I have to figure out what's going on here. I can't stand to see Merrill like this. I don't think I've really seen her cry until today." I reached up to rub my forehead, both in frustration and confusion. There had to be some reasonable explanation for Aveline's rejection. I glanced up at Daisy a few yards away. Her eyes were puffy and pink, and her spirit was waning. "God, this is terrible. I'm gonna call a cab-" My hand was already halfway to my back pocket when the Pirate Queen grabbed my wrist.

"Like hell, Cassandra. This is a life or death situation. You need the Shelby." She asserted clearly. For a moment, her golden eyes were as cold as the amber from a tree long since deceased.

I attempted to protest as she rummaged in her purse. "Isabela, that's-"

She smirked as she gave me the keys and curled them possessively into my fist. As she held my hand, I watched the light return to her eyes. "Don't read into it too much, sweetness. Just do what you need to do." My girlfriend nodded her head, leaving no room for discussion.

I sighed heavily. I certainly didn't look forward to confronting my teammate. I looked over at Merrill once more. Varric was keeping her distracted. He was pointing to the flowers in front of the building and asking her their names. She barely said a word; even though botany was something she was normally passionate about. She couldn't go on being so full of sadness and doubt. My gaze met Isabela's.

"Take care of my girl, will you?" I pleaded sincerely.

She stepped closer to cradle my jaw and kiss me softly on the lips. She was so tender. Our eyes closed for a minute before she whispered, "mine, as well." I couldn't tell if she was referring to her Kitten, her car, or me. It didn't matter. My answer was the same.

"Always."

My second minor epiphany was that Varric is just as odd as he is short. I mean, he drives a bug! Yes, an old-school 60's VW Beetle! But it gets funnier, I promise. From the outside, it shows its age. The tan paint is dingy, there are some small scratches, and the metal has lost its shine. But the inside is pristine. Even if there are wood blocks attached to the pedals. I noticed that feature as I watched Isabela, Varric, and Merrill climb inside the car on their way back to the Hanged Man. He's rich. He could easily have any luxury vehicle tailored for his height. But he drives a beat up old bug. Now there's a man who's comfortable with himself.

I waited patiently as they pulled out of the parking lot, waving as they drove past. Once out of sight, I squeezed the keys tightly within my fist. There's a lot riding on this, Red. Don't screw it up.

I made a hasty retreat to my dormitory. I even parked in Isabela's two favorite spots. Why not? It's tradition. I marched resolutely up the stairs. I stomped right down the hallway. My nerves didn't take over until I was standing outside Aveline's room. I wanted to knock. I needed to knock. I knew I was on a mission and there were questions to be answered. But I couldn't do it. I stood stock-still, my knuckles just an inch from her door. I must have been frozen there for at least 10 minutes. She was almost always off work on Sundays, so there was a good chance that she was inside. But banging on her door and questioning her motives just didn't feel right. I was about to give up and take my chances explaining to Isabela why I had returned empty-handed.

That's when I heard whistling, taunting me to turn around and identify the source. You'll never believe me when I tell you where it came from. Aveline Vallen, the tightass of Kirkwall, was indeed whistling 'When the Saints Go Marching In'. And in case that wasn't enough of a shock, she was dressed in her Sunday best; deep brown slacks and a light green button-up shirt. Her hair was braided to perfection and her freckles were smiling damn near as much as she was.

"Afternoon, Hawke. Enjoying the weather?" She greeted me with mock salute. I dare say she looked genuinely happy. That just isn't right. I blinked silently. As she noticed the confusion written all over my face, she addressed me again. "Hawke, are you alright?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm… something," I mumbled as I scratched my head. She waltzed past me to unlock her door and step inside the room.

"Well, you're obviously here for a reason. Come inside and you might remember what it is." I nodded dumbly and shuffled along. Aveline had been blessed with one of the few single-resident rooms in the dorm, so there were plenty of otherwise unclaimed places to sit. But I preferred her armchair. It was situated across from her desk, next to the window, which had a decent view of the small waterfall that flowed just a few hundred feet east of our building. It also had a nice view of the parking lot where Shelly was parked. She was locked up tight, but it was still nice to have her in my sights; just in case.

I hadn't been in my friend's room in quite a while, but it seemed as though nothing had changed. It was still immaculately clean. Her bed was made, as it was any time she wasn't in it. Her desk was cleared of everything but her laptop. And her walls were barren, except for a printout of the duty roster for campus security and a plain calendar. An onlooker might think that she didn't actually live here, which is almost true. Unless she is asleep, getting dressed, or working on a paper, she is elsewhere. She is almost always on duty or at practice, but when that isn't the case she is at the library or hanging out in my room. The latter is a far rarer occurrence.

Getting comfortable despite my silence, the redhead sat atop her desk and stared at me as I collected my thoughts. I didn't know where to start. What happened between you and Daisy? Who kissed who? Why would you break her heart? Are you really such an evil bitch to kick a girl when she's drunk? But, as I looked up at her, she seemed legitimately… innocent. "Ave, what happened last night?" I asked simply.

She tilted her head curiously at me, using one leg to move her desk chair in position for use as a footrest. "What do you mean? Before or after I picked up Merrill?"

"After. Her memory is a bit foggy, but she seems to be under the impression that you… rejected her." My lips pursed as I glanced away. It was difficult for me to make eye contact while accusing my best friend of being a soulless bitch.

"I did no such thing!" She protested vehemently, her body suddenly tense and a fire bright behind her green eyes. But she wavered for a moment and she held the back of her neck. "Well… alright, maybe I did, but it's not what you think... Or she thinks... I think."

I took a deep breath. You didn't reject her, but maybe you did? Talk about confusing. A 'yes' or 'no' answer was all that I needed. I sat straight up and addressed her calmly. "She thinks that you told her to forget all about the kiss you shared. Is that part true?"

"I would never do that to Merrill." Aveline asserted with a point of her finger. I'd never heard her tell a lie before, so I had to take her at her word.

I let out a long exhale and adjusted my jacket. "Thank God. That'd be a stupid move, even for you." She rolled her eyes. Something still bothered me, though. Daisy made a point to repeat a section of their conversation to our group earlier. It wasn't much, but she seemed quite sure about it. So either my prop is lying, or my roommate has blown last night completely out of proportion. Either way, I'm going to end up running damage control. I rubbed my cheeks in frustration. "But she had to get that idea from somewhere, Ave… Why don't you just start from the top? I don't need the intimate details, but I do need answers."

"As you wish." She rolled her shoulders, biting her bottom lip in thought. "Well, as I was driving Merrill up the hill, I complimented her." She noted clearly. Before I could ask what she said, the redhead looked toward the window, her face a little pinker than usual. "I told her that she was attractive." I was a bit surprised. For Aveline, the Queen of Denial, to actually express some positive feeling toward her love… Shit, it took balls.

"Way to go, Big Girl!" I cheered her on, pumping my fist in the air. That earned me a grunt. I wanted to hug her and tell her how proud I was, but I needed to stay on track. I cleared my throat, regaining my professional composure. "What happened next?"

My friend shifted uncomfortably. She continued to look out the window. "She was so intoxicated that I had to carry her up the stairs to her room. Then she asked me if my compliment was honest. I said yes… and she kissed me." Her description was almost clinical. It was starting to feel like an interrogation. I certainly didn't mean it to be that impersonal. I just wanted to protect both my friends from fucking up their love lives. But Aveline felt safe with facts, not with feelings. So, for the moment, that's what I would focus on.

"How was it?" It was a safe question. A simple 'good' or 'bad' would suffice. She rubbed at her thighs, her gaze lingering anywhere but on me.

"It was… new. But I'd be lying if I said that I didn't enjoy it." My companion sighed, placing her hands on her now flushed cheeks. "But, she is partially right. I did reject her advances… When she started pushing me toward her bunk." She glanced at me momentarily. I quickly picked up her meaning, as well as noted the fear in her eyes.

Damn, Daisy! I'll never look at her the same way again… Then again, neither will you, eh Big Girl? That was my third lesson of the day. Aveline wasn't cold or detached, she was afraid of love. She couldn't admit to being terrified of intimacy, especially between two women. That could be misinterpreted as an insult to lesbians, or be used as evidence to her closed-mindedness. Which would be bullshit. The redhead had never shown any disdain or confusion toward my sexual orientation. But it was new to her, so she was scared. She could never admit to being terrified of anything, especially not to me, her teammate. She was fearless and tough, and anything to the contrary would damage her pride.

I nodded in understanding, keeping my voice even despite my sudden need to break the tension with a joke. "So she tried to get physical. And..?"

"She vomited." I couldn't help but bite my tongue to stop from laughing. I wanted so badly to make a sly repartee. She kissed you and threw up? There are at least a dozen punch-lines in there. I tried to clear my throat, but ended up half chuckling and half choking into my fist. Ave just shook her head, trying to cover up a tiny smile. It may not be funny yet, buddy, but we're going to have a good laugh about it later. Her tone changed. She sounded less informational and more… I wouldn't say amused or fascinated, but almost smug. "Anyway, I put her in bed. That's when she told me that she loves me." She didn't sound freaked out, simply intrigued.

So I asked the ultimate question. "Did you say it back?"

Her hint of pride fell away then and she flattened her hair with her hand, her bright green eyes wandering out the window once again. "Well, no. I realized that anything I said would be ill-timed and I informed her that she was too drunk to remember anything, regardless."

"Ah…" Logically, it made sense. Why open an emotional can of worms when your counterpart is too trashed to understand? Would I of handled it differently, yes. If I was in Aveline's place and Isabela had drunkenly admitted her love to me, I would have expressed the same. Then cuddled up with her. But, misinterpretations aside, it was still a step forward for the two of them. They had their kiss. They had a foundation, something they could build on together. But first, they've got to clear the air. I stood and brushed myself off. "That settles it. Come with me, Man-Hands."

The redhead watched as I tilted my head toward the door. She slid from her desk, her eyebrows raised in curiosity. "Where are we going?"

I chuckled at the nervous inquisition. "To Merrill, of course. She broke her own heart by mistake. You're the only one who can fix it. And if you don't, Isabela is going to have your head along with mine." I answered her clearly, just the slightest amusement in my voice. I could see her think for a moment, and she almost raised her finger in protest… but she pointed to her closet instead.

"I'll grab my coat." I stood by the exit as she threw on a brown peacoat, double-checking her pockets for her wallet, phone, and keys. I spoke up as she reached for the top drawer of her desk.

"Oh, can you leave your ticket pad behind?" In case you're wondering, yes, she does take it with her everywhere.

Aveline looked over at me, trying to hide a grin. "Is it that intimidating?"

"No. But I borrowed the Shelby."

She groaned and mumbled something under her breath, her hand still ghosting over the drawer. "How many spaces are you taking up?"

"Two." I answered honestly, gesturing toward the parking lot.

The security guard in her came out and she took a few steps to look out the window. Probably to make sure I wasn't occupying one or more handicapped parking spaces or blocking a fire hydrant or something. With a sigh, she turned around and walked toward the door. "I've got more important things to worry about at the moment, Hawke."

I patted the Big Girl on the back as she passed by, smiling to myself. "Good to hear, Ave. Good to hear."