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It was the fourth night in a row.
The first two, Avi could shrug it off. If she woke up? She could just throw on a shirt and pants and go out and do a patrol. Or pet Basa. Listen to the creatures in the summer night and feel the cool breeze on her skin. Maybe look up at the moon and stars and contemplate. Void, just meditate in general. She had options, and they could keep her mind busy when it would otherwise wander.
The third night was bad. She hadn't woken up screaming — that only happened with the archdemon twisting through her skull — but she'd shot up so fast it scared Alistair, and now the fool wouldn't stop giving her looks. It was annoying. It was frustrating.
And, most annoying and frustrating of all, it was necessary.
Avi was getting sluggish. Sloppy. A wandering group of darkspawn had made it deep into the forest, and she was struggling to keep up. Normally? She'd be cleaving through two at a time. Now? She was on her hands and knees, head spinning as pain throbbed from her temple. This was pathetic! She'd seen the blow coming from a mile away, and she still couldn't duck in time, and now she'd die in the dirt for it.
"Up you get," Alistair said above her, hands under her arms as he hauled her to her feet. Avi could barely stand as he placed her down, and she needed him to hold her as Wynne tended to the bloody lump on the side of her head. The wave of healing magic made her dizzy, and as nausea bubbled up in her throat, she couldn't keep her eyes open. The walk back to their camp was torture.
The fourth night was the worst. Bed rest instead of patrol, with Alistair fussing like a mother hen in their shared tent before she snapped at him to go the fuck to sleep.
Avi didn't want to sleep. Couldn't. Every time she closed her eyes and drifted, it'd be another dream about the river, or the body dangling from the tree. If she was lucky it'd instead be about Ostagar, but she hadn't been lucky since she left Ostagar.
She couldn't sleep, but she couldn't keep her swiving eyes open. She settled for sitting up, tucking her knees close to rest on them and hoping her posture would keep her awake even as she felt those black tendrils pulling her down.
Beside her, Alistair shifted. Avi's fingers tightened into her skin.
"Avi…?"
"Go to sleep, Alistair," she ground out. Fucking Void, even her voice was tired.
More shifting. The rustling of a blanket. Her arms began to sting where her nails dug into the flesh.
"Avi, talk to me," he whispered. Against the bare skin of her shoulder, she could feel the warmth of his hand, and before he could touch she pulled away.
She didn't want to talk. She wanted to rest, and she fucking couldn't—
"Hey, shh shh, it's alright." His hands were on her anyway, calloused palms holding her steady as she hiccuped on a sob. When had that started? Her knees were wet, too, and wasn't that salt in the damn wound. "Please," Alistair said, "talk to me?"
Another sob, one that curled in her chest and made her stomach hurt. She shook her head, one last sign to make him leave.
Alistair didn't budge. Fucker was annoyingly good at that; it'd saved their lives countless times.
The thought only made her sob again, and she could feel Alistair's fingers twitch in restraint. "Can't sleep," Avi finally managed. "Can't swiving sleep."
There was a shaking breath, and she couldn't tell if it was his or her own. "Nightmares?" he asked, his grip softening.
Avi nodded.
"Archdemon, or—"
She shook her head and held on to herself even tighter. Memories of the bottom of that damned river, of Stas swinging in the breeze—
"None of that," Alistair whispered. His hands moved down her arms, gentle against her but firm as he worked to get between her fingers and the gouges she'd made on herself. Avi choked on another sob as he pulled her hands away, hiding her face against her knees as she shook her head again.
This was pathetic. Alistair was a crier; and that was fine, because he was Alistair. Stas would be furious if she could see her now, huddled in on herself in the dark and weeping—
Avi's breath caught when Alistair wrapped his arms around her — under her shoulders, forcing her to open up.
What else could she do but wrap her own around him in turn?
She wept into his shoulder, holding onto him as if it would keep her from shaking. Those calloused palms patted her back, and after a moment or two, Alistair propped his chin on top of her head. Something about the way he wouldn't dare to go below her ribs made her hiss out a laugh. Ever the bloody gentleman, she thought, before clinging on a little tighter.
The sobbing eased, and when it did, she started to notice the world around her again. Alistair smelled like lye, and grass, and sweat. He was also humming; something she could feel coming from his chest more than she could hear it, tucked away as she was. It sounded familiar now that she was trying to listen, but it didn't last much longer. He pulled away, taking his hands back to her shoulders. Avi could feel that anxious energy of his creeping back in, and though she couldn't see it in the gloom of the tent, she knew he was blushing.
"Feeling better?" There was a tremor in his voice, though he was doing a better job than usual at hiding it.
Definitely blushing. Avi wiped her eyes and nodded. That smell lingered, and it was difficult to think of anything else with how it stuck in her nose.
"That's— that's good. Happy to help. I'll, uh, just go back to sleep now."
Stars, she'd never met a man more nervous.
Alistair retreated fully, shuffling back to his side of the tent. Avi heard him curse as he stumbled over something, and she was very polite when she didn't snicker as he fumbled with his blanket.
She let her eyes close. For a little while, the dreams let her be. But it was fleeting relief; they started up again, and she was back where she bloody started. It'd been at least something before she was sucked back into a nightmare, and that smell had made it a little better—
Thoughts came to a screeching halt.
Avi turned her head over to Alistair's bedroll. If he was pretending to sleep, he was doing a damn good job at it.
Surely he wouldn't mind? It wasn't hot in their tent. It wouldn't be any worse than waking up to her sniveling.
She crept over, tugging at the hem of his blanket. He pulled it down with a grumble, so she tugged it again, inch by inch until she could wriggle underneath.
Alistair startled, sucking in a breath before going stock-still. That was fine; he'd get over it quick enough, Avi was sure. It took her a minute to get comfortable, what with him being so rigid, but eventually she found a spot with her face pressed up against his chest. His heart was like a little bird, fluttering in its cage. That was probably fine, too; it'd go away. Eventually.
Avi took a deep breath in. Lye, and grass, and a bit of sweat. Something so distinct from her memories, keeping them where they belonged at the back of her mind while she stayed here.
The last thing she remembered before drifting off was an arm pulling her just a little closer.