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[ Pepper sleeps. It's a proven fact.

Tony Stark, on the other hand, does not. At least, not as much as doctors say he should, or as much as Pepper tells him he should, or as much as he knows he should. And that was true even before the last six hellish months happened.

Anyway. Pepper sleeps and he doesn't, and he'd rather not disrupt the former because of the latter, especially when Pep needs all the rest she can get. She probably won't notice he's slipped out of the tent for another few hours at least, which is why he takes as much time as he needs to sit and think (or try not to think), his hands twisting uselessly between his bent knees. It's a testament to a lot of things that he doesn't jump when Hawke settles against him, just glances sideways out of the corner of his eye.

The silence sits for a long while before he pipes up. ]

Probably doesn't mean much to you dragon land people, but I'm pretty sure tonight's Christmas.

[Hawke shifts a little against him, forcing herself to open her eyes that desperately want to be closed despite not at all being interested in sleep. A deep part of her is glad that he didn't jump or make any sign that he rejects her. Instead he simply knows her. She doesn't know what "Christmas" is but she can guess.]

A holiday? Lucky fate. I love holidays. You get to sleep in and eat more food than you should be legally allowed to and no one can stop you.

[And drink, which Hawke does out of a flask. Thank the Maker for you Varric. But other than that, haha, funny joke between the two of them little eating or sleeping is done.

Edited (varric has booze now hooray) 2017-01-01 20:30 (UTC)

[ An eyebrow threatens to rise at the appearance of that flask, but you know what? He'd probably have one on him too if the supplies were available. The only notable divergence from long-held routine is that he doesn't bother to ask where she got hers; he doesn't wanna know. ]

There's a couple thousand years of religious backstory in there somewhere too, but yeah, you got the main idea down.

[ He watches his hands for a long moment, wondering what Christmas might've been like this year if he'd been back home and none of this had ever happened. Except, hell, he's pretty sure "back home" involved (involves? will involve?) terrorists and kidnappings and murder robots, so maybe not that much better. ]

This one's notable for the fact that everyone you know is supposed to give you something, just because. That's how Christmas works. Consumerist paradise.

[Yeah and she's clearly been using it. She'd forgotten how much liquor can take the edge off in times like these. It got her through the death of her sister, loss of her brother, and her mother's murder. Booze, don't fail her now.

She coughs, trying to clear the tightness in her chest. Elena told her it doesn't do anything but it's instinctual.

What did you give me? I'm a very just because person on top of all my amazing feats so I ought to be given something for sure. Or did you just tell me that to let it dangle. And don't say booze, you've been beaten to it.

[But in the spirit of generosity, she hands him the flask to take if he wants. Or maybe he's still doing the whole sober thing because he's an idiot.]

[ Tony gives her an exaggerated clap on the back when she coughs, mulling the question over. ]

Well, I let you take over my tent. [ And went off to hobo with Adrien, as per usual. At least before Pepper arrived and he had to reclaim his few luxuries, that is. ] Does that count?

[ He gives the flask a long look when she holds it out, wanting nothing more than to take it and down it until the sting of the anxiety is a little less sharp. It's been months. But he can also taste the sicky-sweet liquor of the mantis planet on his tongue like some kind of phantom sensation. He winces, motioning for her to keep the flask. ]

Though I guess there is something I could give you.

[Hawke shrugs and takes a long swig before coughing again even after he claps her on the back. It takes the edge off. But not as much as she would like.]

I'm not sure if it counts if you take it back.

[Not that she's bitter! She's grateful he let her crash in the first place and probably gave her a bucket to get sick in because he's a bro. She just has to tease him because it's too fun not to.

Then she raises her head from his shoulder to cock it curiously.]

Oh, I love being given things without any sort of pretext or context. Do tell. Hopefully, it's not spiders.

No, but it's probably just as disappointing.

[ In the scheme of Christmas gifts, anyway. Maybe one day he'll be in a position to actually get her something, when they're not in a depressing caravan traversing an inhospitable alien planet. Who knows. ]

Dum-E'd probably be a smoldering wreck of twisted metal if it weren't for you. And Pep — Christ, who knows. Even if something less savory didn't get to her first, she would've been alone and scared and lost for God knows how long.

[ He can picture Pepper picking her way across the alien landscape, injured, half-blind, and absolutely terrified. It's enough to make him feel vaguely ill. Hawke scooping her up and helping her when she did is no small miracle. ]

So, thanks. [ He gives her shoulder a brief squeeze with the hand he'd been using to pound her back. ] I owe you one. Or several.

[ Your present is an unheard of GENUINE EMOTION. ]

[Hawke just sort of stares at him, flask halfway to her mouth in preparation for the long drink she was going to take in response to what she figured would be some sort of Tony Stark Joke (TM).

She didn't expect this kind of response. Not from him. Not because she thought he was unkind but because people simply never thanked her. Hawke did things. Hawke got results. People wanted more things. That was how it went.

It was like it filled a little hole in her that she didn't even really know existed because it was easier not to acknowledge it. She coughed, feeling that tightness return despite not wanting it to be there. She should be happy right?

But instead whatever was filled inside of her started to overflow and run around the edges of other holes that had been broken open in the past few weeks.

She saved Dum-E but not her sister or her father or her mother or her brother. She saved Pepper but not the Viscount's son. Why? Surely, she should have been to do more for her family if she'd really loved them?

And if she was going to die, who would watch over her friends? What would Varric do? Who would help Merrill get through the city? Help calm Anders?

Who would protect Kirkwall? What happens to Kirkwall in the war?

She coughs again trying to clear the feeling but the air is starting thin and breathing feels impossible under the weight in her chest. But her focus is on not letting Tony see any of it if she can help it.]

Feelings, Mr. Stark? You ought to be careful. I've heard they're dangerous.

[ Tony watches her closely; it isn't really the reaction he'd been anticipating. Hawke does about as well with feelings as he does - which is to say, not very well - but he knows her well enough to know this is off, even for her.

Come to think of it, that might be what the flask is for, too. ]

Oh, they are. But I've come to find they have their time and place.

Oh. Is this special? Are we having a moment? One of those moments where we bond our friendship eternal forever. Start planning some tattoos? I vote dragons.

[It's a joke. It's a Hawke joke but the delivery is off. Probably because before she even starts she has to take a hit from the flask and the finish has her with her forehead in her hand trying to breath.

It's not even a lie. It does make her feel important in a way that no one ever really has been good at except for Varric. But sometimes she wonders if Varric sees her for who she is, warts and all. Tony does. And that's why she really doesn't want to add more by breaking down in front of him.

But all she can think of is there's not going to be an eternal friendship. With Tony. Or Varric. Or anyone. It's going to be cut short. What was she going to miss?]

Edited 2017-01-03 02:22 (UTC)

[ Okay, so whatever this is, it's a little more concerning than just being "off." He squints at her through the dim light. ]

Uh, sure. It's a moment as long as you don't barf on me.

[ Because she's looking more and more like she's gonna barf, or pass out. Was it something he said? Saying the wrong thing entirely without knowing why it was the wrong thing is nothing new, so that's possible. Likely, even. ]

I'm not, I just...

[She doesn't even know what she "just" anymore. It started small as a familiar weight but now that feeling that she can't breath is spreading through her like some kind of virus. She doesn't want this to happen, she just wants to joke with Tony and be comfortable in his presence and perhaps even happy that he praised her. People don't praise her like that often.

But instead she's just sitting there with her head in her hand trying to catch her breath like a pathetic fish that's been pulled from his stream and left to gasp and flop uselessly in the dirt.

Hawke doesn't even realize that she's on her feet. She doesn't remember even thinking about standing. Her body's completely lost in it's desperate struggle to just find air.

Elena told her how to fix this but now she can't remember. Is it five seconds in, ten out? No... three and seven? Fuck. Elena would be so disappointed in this if she could see it. Add her to the list along with the entire city of Kirkwall. Maybe everyone in Thedas.]

I just have to go. I'll be...

[She wants to tell him she'll be back as a sort of useless gesture that it isn't his fault. But the words die on her lips as she turns around and half runs, half stumbles away from the camp and closer to the quiet and dark stones that surround it.]

[ Well.

That happens.

He pulls himself up as she stumbles away and follows after at a slightly slower pace, lest she feel like she's being actively chased or boxed in, or something. This kind of thing seems to be happening a lot around here, or maybe he's projecting again, but he's gonna go ahead and assume he's not. Better to look like a damn fool than not do anything.

They're in the dark twilight of the camp's outer ring by the time his voice pipes up behind her. ]

Try the alphabet backward. [ He's tried that one at least a couple of times, with varying success. ] ... Or forward, actually, backward is hard as hell. It's only easy when you're well and truly plastered.

[Hawke only makes it to the outer ring before she collapses, retching up a foul combination of burning liquor and the funny purple water that restores her magic, before she collapses into a crouch. Resting her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands. She tries to cool her face with an ice spell, only to struggle to control it so tendrils of ice creep from her feet and across the rocky wasteland.

She'd thought getting away would help. That she'd feel less trapped. But instead the dark sky and landscape just seem to crush around her like an impossible force. Is that what dying is like? It's dark and cold and crushing and there's nothing else anymore.

Hawke has been so close to death so often that it feels like a memory. Something that was in the past but she'd moved on from. There'd always been something stopping her. She couldn't die then, there was something more she needed to do. But she fails doesn't she? Kirkwall falls to war. Then what is there for her to do anymore?

Tony's voice comes in somewhere behind her left shoulder and cuts like a light in the fog. She raises her hands out of her hands to look at him and give him a baffled stare through her attempts to catch her breath.]

The...

What?

[ He moves closer - avoiding any nasty, unidentifiable liquids - and deposits himself on the ground next to her. ]

You know, "A, B, C, D..."

Unless you don't have that in dragon land, which, shit, I guess might be true. Listening to my dulcet tones might have to suffice, unfortunately for you.

[ People simply talking to him has pulled Tony through plenty of his own panic attacks in the past, and while he can't claim there's any universal tactic that guarantees success, there's no point in not trying it.

More alarming is why Hawke of all people would be in this state at all. ]

I'll take dulcet tones. You could sing. Can you sing? Either way you could sing.

[She reaches out, awkwardly, clumsily, to grab his arm when he drops beside her, gripping it like it's the only thing keeping her from just sinking right through the ground. It's pathetic. Like a clinging child and she hates it. But the sky feels like it might swallow her up whole and it's only a funny joke that Tony is the only person next to her.]

You're gonna have to pay extra for singing.

[ He shifts a little so that she can hold onto him comfortable, but otherwise doesn't point it out or make a fuss. No big deal; like this happens all the time. ]

Singing's not really my style, anyway. Could teach you some French, maybe. Or Japanese. Then again, I feel like you'd start insulting me in multiple languages, so probably not the best idea.

I'm rich.

[She reminds him but without any real demand behind it. She's slowly dropped from a crouch to just slumped on her knees. Now she looks more worn down than she does panicked and afraid.

Her hand still grips him tightly.]

Teach me something anyway. I promise to use it only for good.

[ Progress is progress. He remembers what that feels like, as the walls seem to stop closing in on you but you're still left bruised and breathless, like they crushed you anyway.

She earns a skeptically quirked eyebrow, though it may be hard to see in the semidarkness. ]

Yeah? So if I teach you the first fifty decimals of pi, you'll do only the most responsible mathematics with it?

[She does feel crushed. Like her body was put through the ringer like it often is, but with an extra layer of despair coated in there. But whatever this strategy is, it seems to be working.]

Of course. I never drink and divide. Responsible maths only.

Good. I'm holding you to that. No accidental time/space anomalies or I'm blaming you personally.

[ And then he literally just starts. Reciting numbers from memory. And fully expecting her to repeat after him. ]

[Hawke stares at him for a few seconds like he's just shouting nonsensical bullshit. Which it almost is because she has no idea what pi is and it just seems like he's saying numbers into the void. She tries to repeat after him but her brain clearly can't keep up with his unique sort of genius and she just ends up stumbling over her words until she just stops with a frown.]

Am I supposed to have a headache? Was that the goal? Because that at least did work. Very effective.

[ He actually snorts, the closest he's come to laughter in... well, weeks. Certainly not since before the Moira crashed. ]

If I had a dime for every person who's ever told me I've given them a headache. Not that I need the money.

[She starts a little bit at the noise before connecting that it was a somewhat positive sound.]

I'm pretty sure that's the first time I've heard you laugh in weeks. Or almost laugh. Not that I count laughs or almost-laughs. That would be creepy.

[She sighs like someone taking a rest in the middle of pushing a massive boulder up the hill.]

You could take them anyway. I like shiny coins.

Hey, it hasn't been weeks.

[ Until he suddenly realizes it probably has been.

He looks away, out over the alien horizon. Sometimes looking at it makes the guilt feel overwhelming (did he put them here? Would they be fine if he just hadn't meddled?), but then he thinks of the weight of Hawke's hand on his arm, and Pepper sleeping safely in their tent, and the promise of a new tomorrow in whatever greets them beyond the Ingress. ]

Well, whatever. We're alive. Everything's shitty, sure, but we can fix that - probably. Might as well lighten up a little.

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