Work Text:
In all the years she’s been adventuring, all the talents she’s acquired, Andromeda thinks her ability to wake herself up from a nightmare without making a sound comes in handy just as much as her talent with an ax.
It keeps her companions from waking up, keeps them from worrying—she knows that they must, even if they don’t admit to it. And she’s been comforting herself since she was a little girl. It’s easier that way. Better.
It’s hard to really tell what’s night here. The sky seems to darken, but there’s little real difference between night and day. They are equally dangerous. The fire does a little to stave off the dark, but the danger looms, lurking just out of sight. She has got to keep her guard up. They are not, so to speak, out of the woods yet.
Andromeda sits upright, breathing heavily, and hands shaking. The nightmare lingers in her mind and she presses her hands to her eyes to try and shake it. Normally such things don’t bother her. She’s been around death and destruction since she she was seven, but the things here are, well, horrific. She would be hard pressed to admit to any fears, but the idea of the shadow curse, of the things it does to innocent, good people, has worked its way into her head and won’t leave. It is truly terrifying.
“Andromeda?” A soft voice asks.
She practically jumps out of her bedroll, one hand in the hilt of her ax.
“Only me,” Gale holds ups his hands. He stands over her, casting a shadow on the ground. She stares at it for a moment, half expecting it to reach out and attack. His voice is just audible and he glances around to see if any one had woken up, “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” she replies, matching his volume. I’m the distance someone, something screeches, “I didn’t wake you up?”
“No,” he says, “I couldn’t sleep. I saw you bolt up. I thought maybe you heard something.”
After a moment, when she doesn’t say anything, he kneels down next to her, reaches out a careful hand.
“You’re not complaining about your knees,” she points out, taking the hand and holding it in both of hers. This is how they met, after all, her taking his hand.
“I’m trying not to make it about me,” he replies, cracking a smile. Trying to make her smile too. She can tell, “Talk to me?”
“Those…things out there,” she nods towards the forest, “Those shadows. Those were people once. I listen to every single vestige left behind. They were just people. They didn’t want to be turned into shadows.”
“It seems especially tragic. You are a good person. I’m not surprised such a thing affects you.”
She swallows, brushes a thumb across the back of his hand, “I’m not scared of death you know. But I am scared of becoming one of those creatures. Don’t let me become one of them.”
“That won’t happen,” Gale says, firmly, a little loudly. Karlach stirs at the sound but doesn’t wake, “You’re well protected by the light. We all are. The odds of the curse affecting you are essentially zero.”
“Sure,” she says, “But I need you to promise me anyway. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep otherwise. I can’t save those people. I feel like it’s eating me alive.”
“We can’t save everyone. We do what we can with what we have,” Gale gives her a pointed look. She has no wish to discuss any serious options right now. Carefully, she reaches out, touches the spot on his chest that could very well hold his end. She can’t save him either, not if she doesn’t figure something out. Doesn’t talk him into some other plan.
“I just hope we can save some of the prisoners at Moonrise,” she says, “And perhaps lift this curse. You know, I’m not very clever. I’m mostly just good at hitting things.”
“There’s a certain kind of intelligence that goes into that sort of thing. Mathematically angles and such,” Gale says. The tense moment is gone. Obviously she doesn’t want to discuss it either. They will cross that bridge when they get there, and she will forcibly keep Gale on her side, if she has to knock him out and drag him there with her bare hands.
“But I feel lately that I’ve been good for something more. We’ve saved so many people. Helped so many people. I’m good at that.”
“Very.”
She wants more than anything to kiss him. But instead she only squeezes his hand. Her own are so calloused from years with a weapon.
“You should sleep,” he says, “We have a long road ahead. Are you cold? You seem to be shaking. I could conjure you up something to keep you warm.”
“I’m not cold. Contrary to popular belief I do get scared.”
“Well. I won’t tell if you don’t.”
She smiles, “You don’t have to watch me. I can get back to sleep.”
“I know.”
He does not move.
“You can stay, if you like,” she offers, hoping he’ll agree without fuss, “Just until I fall back asleep.”
“I’d like to, more than anything.”
After a moment of quiet maneuvering, they settled down, pressed against each other. She can hear his heartbeat, and he is especially warm. Magic, maybe, she doesn’t know much about it. Though she’s much more interested than she used to be.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he says.
“I can look after myself.”
He chuckles, a soft rumbling sound, “Believe you me. I know. You can look after yourself and all of us. It’s incredibly impressive. But you owe it to yourself to be looked after from time to time. Especially after everything we have endured. And everything that is yet to come.”
“I guess,” she shrugs. He tightens his arms around her. It’s the most relaxed and at ease she’s felt since, well, perhaps ever. It’s not as if life was especially grand before the whole abduction. It’s not as if she has anybody waiting for her in Baldur’s Gate. There hasn’t been anybody left for a long time. It’s not easy to be alone, no matter how hard she tries.
“You are very stubborn,” he says, “And I am very fond of you. Get some sleep.”
******
Morning dawns—in theory at least—and the rest of the party comes to life. Half heartedly makes breakfast. Wyll plays fetch with Scratch. Things seem brighter, at least a little bit. The company is enough. For now.
“Good morning,” Gale says softly. He releases her, and Andromeda resists the desire to sink back against him, “How did you sleep?”
“Better,” she stifles a yawn, “Thank you. I feel better. Much better actually.”
“I’m very glad.”
“Lovebirds,” Karlach greets them, half eaten apple in hand. She puts on hand on her hip and smirks, “You’re still wearing clothes. I figured you’d have lost them ages ago.”
“This was strictly professional” Andromeda says, though she doesn’t even believe the words. She stands, then hauls Gale to his feet, “Is there breakfast?”
“On the fire,” she replies, smirking. Andromeda has a hunch she knows exactly what’s going on, “If you two kids can keep your hands off of each other.”
“I was merely offering our companion here a little comfort,” Gale says. The light here is strange, but Andromeda is sure he is blushing.
She has no idea why either of them are playing shy and coy about this. It’s not as if everybody isn’t well aware of the two of them dancing around each other. Someone is going to lock them in a room together and refuse to let them out until they kiss.
Actually that might not be such a bad idea. She could probably get Karlach to do it. But Gale has bigger problems. They all do. She’s got to figure out a way to solve all of this, Gale’s explosive little problem included. She’s not willing to lose anyone else.
“You’ll be alright to face the day?” Gale asks softly.
Andromeda nods, “Yes.”
“You are allowed to be frightened you know. Have difficult nights We’re only human..”
“I’ve never been afraid of anything in my life,” Andromeda replies casually, “Except people doing stupid things. I am so very afraid of people doing stupid things. Making stupid sacrifices. Unnecessarily getting themselves killed. Leaving behind people who care for them very much.”
She gives him a pointed look.
“Understood,” he says softly.
“Breakfast,” she glances over, “Let’s get ready to get back out there. We have work to do."