#everet

“I can cover it,” Everet repeated. “After that, I suppose we can… regroup. Decide what to do next.” Everet ducked under a low-hanging tree branch, easing it back down carefully so it didn’t spring back and catch Galen when he let it go. He paused and waited for the mage to get under the branch and catch up. “We shouldn’t stay long in the village, though. It’s probably not safe to stay anywhere. At least until… well, until a week is up, I guess. Let’s pause here for a minute.”

Galen nodded, pushing a sweaty strand of hair out of his eyes. He gratefully sank down onto a flat-topped stone.

They sat in companionable silence for a few moments. The birdsong crept back in around them; or maybe that was just Everet hearing the lyrium again. Being this close to the stuff was… unnerving. Even stuffed in the bottom of Everet’s pack, he could hear it. It made the inside of his head itch.

He ignored it in favour of getting out the water canteen, taking a measured drink, and passing it to Galen.

“And after the village?” Galen asked Everet, as he capped the canteen again. “Where do you think you’ll go?”

Everet stared down at the stones and grass between his booted feet.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I thought I’d seek out a Chantry. Find somebody in charge who’s still sane and throw myself on their mercy. But…”

Up until they’d opened the chest, it had all been ‘if’. If he could survive long enough, what would he do, where would he go? The templars or the Chantry were the only real option he’d had if he wanted to survive, but that might mean another band just like the last.

But now… Everet was carrying a fortune in lyrium. He had more choices.

Everet ran his fingers through the hair over his temples, shaking his head. I don’t know. Galen watched him, silently, thoughtfully. He didn’t speak to try and fill the gap.

“One thing I do know - I want out of the Hinterlands,” Everet said, sudden conviction welling up. “This place is… I mean, I’m sure it was nice enough before the whole templar army chased the mages here, but now… fuck, I want out and I never want to see it again.”

There was too much death here. Too much violence, and Everet had been the perpetrator of enough of that violence that maybe it was grossly unjust of him to feel this way. But Redcliffe was full of mages, and the hills were full of templars, and as long as that was the case the Hinterlands would never, ever be safe or peaceful.

Galen gave him a quick glance that seemed to understand more than Everet was capable of saying. “Me too,” he said quietly.

“Well,” Everet said, getting to his feet. He smacked dust from his hands and thighs cheerfully, feeling his spirits rising. “In that case, it looks like we’re going the same way. If we’re both in agreement, our plan is to resupply at the next village, get our bearings, and chart ourselves a path out of the Hinterlands. We can figure the rest out as we go. Sound good?”

“Yeah,” Galen agreed easily, standing up. “Sounds good.”

Everet returned to clearing them a way through the undergrowth, feeling heartened. Straightforward, achievable goals. Get to the village, resupply, find a way out of the Hinterlands and into the South Dales. Everet could do those things.

He’d figure out what he’d do next once he’d achieved those.

It might be safer, he thought, tearing aside a sheet of vines that obscured the footing ahead of him, if Everet went into the village alone. At least until he got Galen some less suspicious clothes.

Then again, the common folk also had reasons to distrust templars. Perhaps Everet should leave his more obviously templar gear stashed somewhere?  He didn’t want to sell it, unless he had to, but it was probably unwise to go around wearing it…

“Hey – um – ”

Everet paused. “Sorry. Need a break?” he called over his shoulder.

“No. I was just thinking…” There was an odd, diffident tone to the mage’s voice. “We don’t… have to travel together. Just because we’re going in roughly the same direction.” When Everet turned to look at him, he was staring down at the ground, his face set. “We could part ways after resupplying at the village, if you’d prefer.”

“I – oh,” Everet said, surprised. He rearranged his thoughts, hastily.

Everet should have asked instead of assuming.

After… everything, Everet thought, with a queasy, guilty flip of his stomach. Galen might feel safer travelling alone than travelling with a templar. Can you blame him?

Galen was quiet, closed-in, standing with arms folded and eyes down submissively. Did he expect Everet to object? In the old days Everet would have needed to take Galen back to whatever Circle he’d come from, whether he went quietly or not. There was no point even pretending to entertain that possibility now, but…

Everet rocked back on his heels, scrubbed a hand through his hair. He chose his words carefully. “If that’s what you’d prefer. It was just a suggestion. It’s just, even besides the fact we might be being followed, people here aren’t all that friendly to mages or templars anymore. So I thought it’d be safer. That’s all. I thought you might like – ” He coughed, looked away.  Might like what? More reminders of what happened? Somebody to tell you what to do? “Look, I’m not your keeper or anything, you can leave whenever you want. I won’t try and stop you.”

“It’s not that I want – ” Galen shook his head, fiercely. “Fff. Damn it.”

“What?”

Galen shrugged, his arms still miserably crossed. “I don’t want to part ways yet – you’re right, it’s safer – but –”

Everet frowned. “But…”

“I don’t want you to feel obligated,” Galen burst out. “You’ve been… amazing. Like I said. But you don’t have to feel like you’re lumbered with me forever now, just because you rescued me once.”

“Who’s being lumbered with you?” Everet said, confused. “I never said – ”

“No, you didn’t, you don’t have to!” Galen uncrossed his arms enough to make a frustrated gesture. “I can’t – you obviously feel it’s your responsibility to get me to civilisation, and find me clothes and food, and all that, and I’m grateful because Maker knows I’d struggle on my own. But you don’t have to keep on doing that. You don’t have to slow yourself down to escort me out of the Hinterlands. If you want to go to a Chantry you should, and not have to worry about me.”

“Oh,” Everet said, lamely. “You – you aren’t afraid of me, then?”

Galen looked up, seeming startled, blinking at Everet from under his hair. “Afraid of you? No. You saved me.”

The two of them stared at each other, awkwardly.

Everet found an embarrassed half-smile. He started to turn back towards the path. “Look, you can leave if you want, but I think it makes the most sense to travel together. For both of our sakes. Let’s just… get ourselves to civilisation. All right?”

When Galen followed, Everet deliberately slowed his steps so they could walk abreast. Or what passed for abreast, on this goat-track – Everet a half-step ahead and turning back occasionally. It didn’t make for easy conversation.

“Look, you don’t have to pretend I won’t be a burden,” Galen said after a few moments. “I’m not an idiot. You’ll do a hell of a lot better out here on your own than I will, it’s obvious you don’t need me.”

Everet tried to keep his eyebrows from climbing. “Oh, will I?” he managed to ask. “Galen… I don’t know who or what you think I am, but maybe I better come clean. I don’t have the foggiest idea what I’m doing.” He kicked at a clump of leaves on their path. “I don’t have a plan. I don’t know where I’m going to go.”

“Yeah, but you can live out here,” Galen said. “I’m… helpless. You’re not.”

Everet frowned. “Can I? Sure, I can defend myself, but I don’t know how we’re going to eat once the next week is up.”

“At least you have skills!” Galen said, heatedly. “You can – hire yourself out as a soldier, or you’re strong enough to do some other sort of work. I have nothing.” He gestured angrily with one scabbed-up arm, his voice rising. “Before the Circles fell, Everet, I had never left their walls for most of my life. I can’t do anything!”

“You can do magic,” Everet pointed out.

Galen gave him a furious, bitter look. “Oh yes, wonderful. I can definitely use that to make a living. Sounds nice and safe!”

Everet winced. That had been kind of insensitive.

He let the silence simmer awkwardly for a minute, tramping heavily though the undergrowth, while he tried to put together the right words. The Maker had not called Everet for his eloquence.

“Listen. I know it’s dangerous out here for you,” he said hesitantly. “And I hear what you’re saying, about… about not having skills.” He pointed with one thumb back upstream. “But the truth is, I’d have been toast back there without you. That’s not nothing.”

Galen sighed. His thin shoulders were still tense, hunched. “Mm. We won’t be fighting templars all the time, though. I’m... I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“I sure hope we won’t,” Everet said. He sighed. “But… Look, Galen, I know you feel like you’re going to slow me down, but travelling with me isn’t going to be a picnic either.” The lyrium hummed and weighed heavily in his pack. “We’re both going to be burdens in our own ways. And I don’t care. Forget obligations, have you considered that I might actually want to travel with you?”

Galen was silent.

“I mean, I’m not exactly used to being on my own, so company would be welcome. Particularly company like you. We get along all right, so far, and you’re – you’re resourceful and clever, and damn tough, and maybe it’d be nice for us to have each other’s backs! You know?”

“Oh,” was all Galen said.

Everet looked over at him. The mage was staring straight ahead, not meeting Everet’s eyes. But slowly, as Everet watched, his shoulders dropped and his head came up. There was a flush of colour over his cheeks, bright pink underneath a crusted-over cut.

Everet must be walking too fast for him again; he’d never say anything. Everet slowed his stride, trying to do it subtly enough that the mage wouldn’t notice.

Their feet crunched leaves, not quite in step with each other.

“So what do you say?” Everet asked. “I’d like us to stick together for a little longer, if you’re not bothered by me. At least until we get out of the Hinterlands?”

Galen glanced at him, and away, and back – and smiled.

Everet shrugged. “I hope so,” he said. “I don’t think anyone in the group was much good as a woodsman, so I don’t think they can track us. How fast they can move probably depends on what exactly happened with the wagon and how many injured they have.”

“The longer we go, the more likely it seems, right?” Galen asked. He pulled the cloak close and shivered. “That we got away, I mean.”

Everet shrugged. “Yeah. Sure.”

The mage picked at the hem of the cloak, his face unreadable. “Do, um, do you want…”

“Stop trying to give me that back already,” Everet said gruffly. “I’ve got a thick undershirt that isn’t full of holes. You don’t. Until you get some better clothes, keep it.”

Galen wrapped himself up in the cloak and lay down, a dim red bundle in the dappled shadow of the nearest tree. Everet stretched himself out, head on his pack, and stared up at the star-freckled sky. We should have someone on watch. But I can’t ask him to take a watch, and I can’t stay up all night myself. He could already feeling his eyes growing heavy. We’ll just have to risk it.

An indistinct noise brought him back from the brink of sleep. He blinked muzzily at the tracery of tree-branches against the sky.

The sound came again. It sounded like... somebody choking?

No. Somebody crying. Everet propped himself upright on his elbows and looked across the clearing. The shrouded figure of the mage was shuddering. Desperate, tearing sobs came from him, splitting the quiet of the night and filling the clearing with his despair.

Everet hesitated, his stomach dropping. Maybe I should pretend I can’t hear him? Maybe he’d prefer that?

That didn’t seem practical, though, because the mage struggled upright, throwing the cloak aside, frenzied movements in the darkness. Everet could see him sitting there in the dirt, shoulders heaving. He sobbed aloud, a noise that was almost a moan of fear and pain. Nobody could have failed to hear that.

“What is it?” Everet asked, pushing himself up to standing. The desperation in Galen’s voice sent his own heartrate up in sympathy. Surely there had to be something badly wrong. “Is there – did something else – What is it?”

Galen tried to speak past his tears, with difficulty. “It’s – it’s – it’s, no, there’s nothing…” He gave another deep, coughing sob. Then he threw his hands up to his head, fingers in constant motion, winding into his hair and then coming down to cover his face, long fingers pressing over his mouth like that would keep the sobs in. “Maker. Hhk. Oh, Maker, I can’t!”

“I don’t understand,” Everet said. He ventured a few steps closer, and sank to his knees on the ground a few feet away, deeply confused. I shouldn’t be surprised he’s crying, I’d probably cry too if I had the injuries he has. But he’s just been walking and smiling and keeping up with me all day and now he falls apart? What’s different? “Look, I know you must be scared, but I think we’ll be all right. Things will look better in the morning.”

“It’s – not that – hhn – I know, things look better now, I just -”

“Then why are you – how can I…”

“It’s everything!” Galen wailed. He bent nearly double, curling up around his stomach, shaking with the force of his weeping.  “I don’t – I don’t know why I – why now? I don’t under, hhh, understand either, I thought I – hk – Maker – ”

It’s everything.

Everet listened to the wrenching sobs. He remembered the mage weeping like this in the hollow, when he’d learned that Everet was going to help him. Everet had asked him to stop and he had, then.

He wasn’t sure it would be a good idea to do that again. Maybe this sort of weeping was something you just needed to get out at some point and could only delay? Fuck if I know. Nobody gives you training in this! It’s not my job!

There’s nobody else around to help with this, though.

“What can I do?” he asked, agonised. He shuffled a little closer on his knees, debating how stupid an idea it was to try to pat the mage on the shoulder. Everet was clumsy enough he’d probably just end up putting his hand directly on one of those burns that made his stomach twist to think about.

“Nothing, nothing, I… oh, you’ve done so much for me already,” Galen croaked. He was still bent double, like the weeping was pulling him apart, like it hurt but he couldn’t stop. “Hk. Hh. You’ve been – you’ve done so m-much, I… I can’t thank you enough…”

Everet cringed. “Don’t,” he said miserably. I haven’t done anything. I wish you’d stop thanking me. I don’t deserve this much gratitude. Nobody who sat there and watched what I did deserves this much gratitude. But you couldn’t argue with and correct somebody crying this hard, could you? “What – what would be easiest for you?” he asked instead. “Do you need me to step away for a bit, or, or…”

“No,” Galen gasped. Then, to Everet’s shock, he turned and threw his weight against Everet’s chest with an undecipherable wet howl of tears, his head down and pressed against Everet’s shoulder.

Everet stared ahead of him into the trees, his mind utterly blank for a moment.

Galen’s frame was small, fragile, shaking with deep, tearing sobs. The movement transferred from his slight frame to Everet’s, and he had to steady himself with a hand on the ground.

“Don’t go,” the mage heaved into his shoulder, in between sobs. His face was hot and damp against Everet’s neck, one hand gripping Everet’s undershirt in a fist.  “Please, just… please…”

“I – I won’t,” Everet said, uncertainly. He took a deep breath, dragging in the cold night air, feeling the way his chest moved Galen with it. Don’t go. He needs me here. What the fuck do I do?

He wracked his mind for something to say, and couldn’t find anything that felt right. Don’t cry, kept rising to the surface, and he rejected it. It was obvious Galen was going to cry for a while no matter what anybody said and he didn’t need shame about that on top of everything else.

They were both exhausted and needed their sleep. But maybe the mage needed this more.

“I won’t go. Hey. Okay, okay….” Slowly, carefully, he moved his arms, thinking of the bruises and wounds underneath Galen’s robes. “Is this gonna hurt you?” He put his arms loosely around Galen’s shoulders.  

Galen made a wordless noise of denial and pressed a little closer.

“Okay, then.” Everet let his arm settle against Galen’s back. “We’ll just – we’ll just sit here, then. Okay. No problem. It’s going to be fine.”

That was all the words that Everet had, but Galen didn’t seem to object to his silence. He stayed there, weeping into Everet’s shirt, for an unknowable length of time. Everet’s knees went numb and he re-settled his position, but didn’t take his arms away from the mage’s shoulders.

The light shifted, the moonlight deepening. Galen cried like his heart was broken, like nothing would ever be all right, like all the pain and fear of the last week had built up inside him and had to be let out like poison from an infected wound. He held onto Everet like he was the only safe thing in a world that wouldn’t be content unless it was hurting him. As if Everet could protect him. Everet swallowed, his throat dry, and wondered how Galen was going to survive and heal after all of this. 

He wondered how Galen had it in him to trust like this, after what had been done to him. He’s a stranger, Everet thought. I barely know him. He barely knows me. But what else am I supposed to do? 

Eventually the wordless weeping slowed, weakened. The mage’s fingers haltingly unwound themselves from Everet’s shirt, and Everet opened his arms to let Galen ease himself back away from him. He tried not to look too obviously relieved.

“Th-th-thanks,” Galen gulped. He kept using his hand to shield his eyes, and he sniffled loudly. “I’m sorry. I. I think I can sleep now?”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Everet said, awkwardly. “But, uh. I’m glad.” He climbed to his feet and backed away. “Good night, Galen. It’ll be okay.”