Chapter Text
Coffee was never meant to be anything else but that – coffee. Something to help with sleepless nights, which sometimes turned into days and nights again, mulling over tens of scattered notes, the order of which no one else could understand. Incursions deep into the darkness of muddy Minrathous nights, searching for the missing links, and the tiredness which inevitably followed, leaving one drained enough to sleep dreamlessly, usually slouched over the aforementioned notes, only to be jolted awake by parasitic thoughts of something that they might have missed. Feeling rested was a distant concept, one dating back to childhood, and perhaps not even then.
Still unclear, must interrogate the owner of…
“Hey, Neve. I knew you were still awake.”
She looked up. It was Bellara, clumsily closing the door behind her with her butt, while holding a plate of something that looked too green for comfort. Must’ve been Harding’s turn to make dinner. Dinner already? Have I even had lunch…?
“Don’t mind me, I’ll just drop this here and leave you to it,” the Veil Jumper continued, noticing Neve’s distant stare and her silence.
“Ah. No, don’t worry about it, I needed a break,” Neve forced herself to snap out of it and took the plate off Bellara’s hands, placing it on her desk. “How long have I been gone?”
“Well, I haven’t seen you since last night. Thought you… might be with Rook!” Bellara’s voice went giddily high at the end as she sat down in front of Neve’s desk, wriggling into the seat.
The detective smiled and hummed briefly. She knew she’d been actively avoiding prolonged interactions with their leader ever since the other morning, and had buried herself in as many tough cases as she could find around Dock Town. She took a sip of coffee, which was bad, because she’d boiled it, and now she knew it was bad, and she knew it could be better, and she still stubbornly ignored the thought.
“I know the food isn’t very appetizing. Harding insisted she’d make something with those plants she grows in her room, I asked her to make sure they’re edible but she gets weirdly protective of her hobby so I didn’t push. Try it, though. I also brought some spices, just in case,” Bellara was getting a bit anxious trying to fill the silence, quickly taking out a couple of jars of spices from her satchel and setting them on the desk to prove her point.
“Right,” Neve replied, if only to calm her down. She took a bite from the strangely mushy green thing, and couldn’t help but cough at the taste, or lack thereof, covering her mouth. “Oh, Maker,” was the only thing she could say after forcing herself to swallow.
“Yeah, I know…” Bellara said sadly. “Spices, though?” she offered, pointing to them.
“I’m not sure anything can salvage this mess,” the ice mage giggled. A phrase which wasn’t necessarily just about the food.
Lutare laughed, albeit still uncomfortably. She could tell there was something more eating at her friend, but couldn’t quite ask the question directly. “Tough case again?” was the only thing she could think of.
“That’s one way to put it,” Neve mused, playing with the spoon in the food. As much as Bellara could tell something was wrong, Neve wanted to talk it out, but putting it into words would make it real, wouldn’t it? Would make it dangerous, and there would be no going back, if there even was at that point anymore at all.
“Anyhow, if you’re not hungry, maybe you’d like to join the others? They’re playing Wicked Grace in the kitchen. I think everyone’s trying to avoid the food while having a good cover for it in case Harding notices.”
The ice mage thought about it, sifting through her notes a bit. She noticed the wisps gathering around the door, as though they were suggesting the same thing. “I do play a mean hand,” Neve smiled.
Bellara all but jumped up from her seat. “Let’s go, then! Mind us poorer folk, though. I can never remember the rules.”
As she got up, Neve grimaced at the ungodly noise her knee made. She’d definitely been there for far too long. They made their way to the kitchen, where the hustle and bustle of everyone pouring drinks and making conversation and whatnot was a bit overstimulating for the detective, and the moment she felt her eyes begin to search for a certain someone who wasn’t around, she got out her pipe and tobacco to distract herself.
“Look who decided to rejoin the living!” Davrin pointed at Neve, pulling out a chair for her. “A little longer and you might have sparked Emmrich’s interest.”
The remark earned a condescending smirk from Emmrich who was coming over with a bottle of wine and a glass for Neve. “Don’t mind him, darling. He is uneasy whenever matters of the mind are at play. Here,” he set the glass in front of her. “Agreggio Pavali,” he said proudly, and poured the dark red liquid in the glass.
“So, when are we starting? I am eager to strip everyone of your gold,” Lucanis rubbed his palms and took his seat.
“Be real, Lucanis,” Taash joined. “No one can beat a Lord of Fortune at Wicked Grace.” Harding shot them a judgmental glance. “Uh, maybe only a Fereldan,” they corrected themself and earned a kiss on the cheek from their dwarf. Neve tightened her jaw at the display of affection, but went back to her wine and her pipe.
Nothing was really working to keep her mind from wondering where someone was, and every time she’d feel it start to turn into anxiety, she’d take another sip. The conversations around her became white noise, her thoughts focusing on the ones going on in her head, the argument between think about the case, think about the gods, and where is she, Maker I don’t want to be here if she isn’t, venhedis I miss her, I miss her, I miss—
“Want more?” Lucanis offered a refill, only managing to shake her awake because his voice was raised in a way that made her realize he’d either tried to grab her attention before (which was a bit mortifying), or he could tell she was out of it.
She nodded and pushed the glass towards him so that he’d refill it. Her gaze inadvertently darted to the kitchen door, which opened with a creak, and in came Rook with her usual energetic stride, a shockwave that was almost painful hitting her whole torso as their eyes met. Neve lowered her glance, she felt horribly guilty for leaving Rook high and dry for so many days, always finding something else to do or look at whenever she’d been needed with them on the field, always hiding around the Lighthouse when she hadn’t.
“Here I am!” Rook said enthusiastically, making herself comfortable on a chair as far away from Neve as possible. “I hope everyone is ready to shower me in gold.”
“Oh, please!” Davrin scoffed and started dealing the cards, “Lucanis already tried to threaten us. We all know Antivans can’t play to save their lives. Without cheating that is.” Everyone laughed and started digging through their belongings for gold. “Place your bets, people! And remember: if you’re out of gold, you can either quit or start stripping!”
“Who put him in charge?” Lucanis teased as he laid out his money.
“Oh, he might just want to see you in your smallclothes,” Emmrich suggested, and the room burst into laughter again. As it did, Rook searched for Neve’s gaze mid-laughter, but the detective would continue to avoid her, very obviously so.
As the game went on, Bellara noticed Neve hadn’t lied: she really did play a mean hand, winning round after round, only occasionally being interrupted by Rook having a better hand here and there. Eventually, the only ones left with any money to play with were the two of them, because of course that’s how it would go.
“I’m sticking around for the stripping,” Taash teased, and was met by a general amusement which made Rook’s (and Neve’s) ears burn.
The two of them couldn’t avoid each other’s eyes anymore, and what might have earlier been awkwardness turned into a tension you could cut through with a knife. Of course, everyone thought it was just about the game (even though some might have intuited differently).
After some time which felt like a good couple of heavy minutes, Rook showed her cards first. “I warned you all, didn’t I?” she grinned smugly, and leaned over the table to grab the pile of gold.
Neve let her have her moment for a second, then revealed her own cards. Everyone gasped, and started cheering and laughing at Rook’s utter defeat. Emmrich got up and brought another bag of gold, which he split between himself, Lucanis, and Harding.
“And what’s that supposed to be?” Rook asked angrily, very much expecting the answer.
“We made separate bets on who’d win,” Harding replied proudly.
“How did you know it would be between the two of us?” Neve joined in amusedly.
“We didn’t, but we thought it would be grand if it ended this way,” Emmrich explained, giggling.
“Sorry, Neve!” Bellara apologized, sadly watching the winners split the gold among themselves.
“I’m hurt, truly,” Neve feigned disappointment, but followed with a cackle when she saw the Veil Jumper take her seriously.
The party continued for a while, and it became easier for the two of them to ignore each other as the alcohol continued to pour seemingly endlessly from Emmrich’s reserves. It eventually ground to a halt as soon as Taash slipped and knocked over a couple of glasses, staining themself with red wine, but also spilling some on Rook, who laughed it off but still suggested they should go sleep it off.
“Leave your shirt in that basket there, Rook,” Harding offered while walking Taash out. “I’m on laundry duty tomorrow.”
Everyone left, one by one. Rook stayed behind to try and clean off her shirt with a wet cloth as much as possible, so as to not burden Harding overmuch. She noticed Neve picking up the shards from the broken glasses. “You can go, I’ll handle that,” she said, not fully turning towards her.
The sudden interaction caught the detective off-guard, and she cut her finger on a shard. “Venhedis,” she cursed, setting the trash on a chair and trying to suck up the blood.
Rook saw the unfortunate event. After pondering her next move for a couple of seconds, watching Neve struggle to stop the bleeding, she took off her shirt, threw it in the laundry basket and walked over to the detective. “You alright?” she asked a bit awkwardly, and reached out to touch her hand.
“It’s just a tiny cut,” Neve flinched, and wanted to turn away.
“Oh, come on,” Rook pleaded, smiling sadly. At least she managed to stop her in her tracks. “Don’t you want to talk? I mean, we’re a bit tipsy, I’m tired, you took all my gold anyway…” she tried to force a joking tone, but got no response.
Neve sighed. The hope that she could get away again dissipated. Rook’s eyes were glistening, the fire in the fireplace was only partly to blame, and she looked so completely gutted that the mage couldn’t help but stay. “I don’t want to…” she began, but had to swallow and breathe deeply again so that her voice wouldn’t crack.
“Don’t want what? This? Me?” Rook asked frustratedly, not really caring about her own voice being shaky. “Just say so if that’s the case. This on and off, hot and cold thing is just…” She searched for the right word, but settled with letting her arms fall in annoyance.
“You know that’s not what I mean!” Neve replied, a harshness in her tone which she regretted instantly.
“Then what, Neve?” Rook pressed further, still not being able to hide the gentleness that inadvertently shrouded the way she said her name.
Neve rolled her shoulders and rubbed her forehead, pacing around trying to find what to say. Damn it, she’d been playing this conversation over and over in her head, and always resorted to thinking she could avoid it endlessly. And over and over, she knew she was lying to herself. Of course she was afraid, scared out of her mind, really, but more than anything else, what held dominion over all her other thoughts, was the way her heart would feel too big for her chest whenever she saw Rook. She swallowed her hesitance and propped herself on the backrest of a chair, and started speaking quickly, almost stumbling over her own words. “When I look at you, I see what I could mourn. I know how this goes. I know it’s the same for you. How can I accept that? Can you? I went into this thinking it would be the simple case of finding Solas. When it turned out to be more complex, I thought alright, alright, I can do this, I’m good at difficult situations. But this…” she paused, bowing her head with her eyes closed, searching for the right way to put it. “Do you know what happened the last time I dragged someone into my life? He died, Rook. He’s gone. The only thing I have left of him is that damn Andrastian amulet. And the worst part is that…” her breath became shaky, eyes watering, teeth grinding, damn it, damn it, no, please, Neve, pull yourself together, a deep breath, there, there, this should hold for a bit longer. “The worst part is that I haven’t even looked at it for quite some time,” she chuckled briefly. “I… look at you… and I wonder what exactly…” no, no, no, not again, another deep breath, please, just a while longer. “I wonder what exactly I’ll be looking at when you’re gone. Or what…” it’s not working anymore, “you will…” she sniffled, “when I am,” a sob escaped her, and she covered her mouth, instantly turning her back to Rook.
“Oh, Neve…” Rook spoke quietly, and they just stood in place for a while, Neve doing her darndest to keep her body still with the overwhelming need to sob, and the elf not knowing exactly what her next move should be. Without thinking about it further, she walked over and embraced Neve from behind, holding her tightly, and the latter didn’t resist, but couldn’t help the explosion of violent sobbing that Rook had given way to when she hugged her. The Crow kept silent, just rubbing the other’s arms reassuringly, long enough for her to calm down.
Eventually, Neve turned around, and, unable to will herself away again, grabbed Rook’s face between her hands. “I—” can’t breathe without you “-‘ve missed you.”
“I’m here, Neve,” Rook almost whispered, pulling her even closer by the hips. “And if I’m ever not here anymore, I’ll crawl my way out of the Fade back to you. Don’t doubt that.”
“I really do doubt it, though, Trouble,” Neve said, and managed to giggle. “But I…” would fight the whole world if need be, too “share the sentiment.” Rook smiled and wiped off the wetness from Neve’s cheeks with her thumbs, then planted a kiss on her forehead. They lingered in each other’s touch for a while. “How do you do this?” Neve asked after some time, resting her forehead against the elf’s, a look of genuine confusion in her expression.
“Do what?” Rook asked amusedly.
“Pull me back like this. I prided myself in having a lot of self-control before I met you,” she chuckled, sniffling occasionally.
“What, my charm’s not a clear enough explanation?”
Neve scoffed, and pulled away just enough to look at the Crow. She felt almost sickened by how much she wanted to say those damn words, it made her abdomen tighten, but she shut it out by pressing her lips against the other woman’s, whose mouth eagerly welcomed her as if she’d been waiting for her to come back home, because that’s what it feels like when I taste your tongue, and when your hands trail over my back, and when my palm can feel the pulse in your neck, and when…
“Well, shit.”
Rook and Neve jolted apart as soon as they heard the interruption. It was Taash, barely holding themself straight. Both crossed their arms behind their backs, not before wiping their mouths in unison, like two schoolgirls caught red-handed by the teacher.
“Taash! Feeling better?” Neve asked, and subtly stomped on Rook’s toes when she heard her begin to snicker.
“Not as good as you, clearly,” Taash laughed, slurring their words a bit. “Was just looking for some water.”
“Right. Water. Let me help,” Neve offered, and pinched Rook’s arm, who was already seemingly suffocating trying not to laugh. She handed Taash a carafe.
“Cool. I’ll be on my merry way now.” The Qunari sniffed. “Good wine, though, right?”
“The best,” Neve admitted, briefly looking at Rook and not being able to contain her smile any longer.