Past, Future, Present.

With a clatter, the tankards hit the table for the doz enth time that evening and for Garrett Hawke, the last. It was the first time all of Hawkes friends had gathered together since before he had entered the blasted deep roads. An entire two months he had spent down there with Varric, Fenris and… Bethany.

"Another round?"

Varric had been watching him all evening, looking for some form of sadness in him, Garrett suspected. It may have had something to do with the fact that it had already been a week since there return and since…

And he was yet to understand when his grieving was too begin.

"Not for me my hairy friend, I think I'm to head home for the evening."

As he got up from the table he wobbled slightly. Steadying himself on the nearby wall, he began to walk out of the hanged man and start his journey back to the hovel he called home. Yet home was not where he had found himself a hour later.  There he sat, alone, on a rock just outside Kirkwall.

One week.

Just one week it had been since he had been unable to save his precious little sister, his little Bethany, from the dark spawn taint. The same way he had been unable to protect his brother as he had recklessly dived in front of a raging ogre. His mother's face when he had to tell her broke him.

Garrett ran his hand round the back of his neck and up through his hair. This is where he had found himself every night for the past week; often unable to determine how he had reached the rock in the first place after he had drank himself silly. It was a quiet place, nobody around and nothing to distract him. His thinking space.

Suddenly out of the silence, he heard the familiar sound of a twig snapping and as drunk as he was, his reaction speed was perfect. Deft hands let loose a sharp-edged throwing knife straight towards its intended shadowed target. Though as soon as it hit (as did every one of Hawkes knives,) he wished it hadn't as the sound of Tevinter curses filled his silence.

"Andreste's tits Fenris! What are you doing here?!"

The silver haired elf looked as if he wanted to respond until Garrett took his bleeding hand in his own and looked at the knife embedded in it. If it wasn't so dark you may have been able to see the small flush of red that escaped up the elf's cheek, not that he yet understood the meaning of it himself.

For a moment both were still while Hawke deduced how he could fix this. A thought went to Anders, he could have it healed it up nice and fast, though that idea was quickly dissolved. Fenris hated him and barely fought next to him let alone allowed him to use magic on his wounds. Then it struck him.

He let go of Fenris's hand and began to pull at the sleeve of his shirt. As it ripped Hawke began to smile. Bethany used to always do this for him anytime he got into a fight, back in Lothering. Back then it had made him smile too.

Grabbing the elf's hand again, a sharp tug pulled the knife from his flesh and more cursing filled the air. Softly, yet firmly Garrett began to wrap the cloth round the elf's hand, just as his sister had done for him.

When he was finished Fenris found himself running his hand over his now bandaged wound and all was quiet until the elf could bare it no longer.

"Talk and I shall listen."

Garrett just looked at him for a second and understanding what he was referring too, he took a deep breath. Slowly he walked back over to where he had one been sat and beckoned the silver haired elf to follow.

Two months down in the depths had brought them closer. At first it was just attraction he felt towards the elf when they had met on the alienage steps that night, but now after the deep roads he was sure there was a growing attachment he had begun to feel towards him. He swore that it had been Bethany that had picked up on his subtle gestures even before he knew he was making them.

So when Fenris suggested they talked or at least he talked, that's just what he did and the elf did exactly what he said he would. Listened and that was the single thing he needed.