Chapter Text
Desmond’s soul seemed to flinch, his stomach lurching with one nauseous heave. His body felt fake. Off. Like he’d been stuffed in something just slightly different and before he knew it he was hunched over and expelling everything in his stomach.
“Inquisitor!” A voice he didn’t recognize shouted, and he ignored it. People were always shouting things. But then someone touched his back in a soothing manner and he flinched away from the foreign hand. “Desmond?”
He squeezed his eyes shut and coughed up the last of the bile. A deep breath past the acidic taste and he turned his gaze to the person who had touched him. An elf he’d never seen before stared back with concern, his bald head accentuating the ears which so many elves he’d seen attempt to hide. “Um,” he started, eyes darting around his surroundings, mind quickly coming up with theories as he saw soldiers staring in awe or horror, people of all shapes, sizes, and races gathered in what looked like a fortress. A large moon hung heavy in the sky, illuminating the symbol everyone wore in some way or another.
The elf studied Desmond for a moment, and then his gaze shuttered. “Right. Iron Bull,” he called, not taking his eyes off of Desmond’s face, “clear a path. Varric, get the Commander.” Desmond perked up slightly at the name and searched the crowd for the dwarf, hoping for a familiar face. Instead, he saw the back of who he could only assume was the Varric he knew, if the dwarf had longer hair and different clothes. But it was difficult to mistake Bianca for anything else.
He wanted to call out and follow Varric to get whoever the Commander was, but he was pinned in place by the cold, dangerous stare of the bald elf. Desmond normally wouldn’t be intimidated, but there was a strange weakness in his limbs and his head felt weird. He didn’t know the limits of his body, and he wasn’t willing to test it in a fortress surrounded by strangers.
“Follow me,” the elf commanded, and Desmond didn’t argue.
Ideas swirled in his mind. Either he was dead and had shown up somewhere new, or he’d traveled through time, or he was having an extreme hallucination. Or sudden amnesia. The fact that the elf had called him by name debunked the new world theory, also because Varric was there. He’d never had a vision or hallucination this realistic, and he’d been touched by the strange elf, so it was a bit of a stretch. The time travel idea held merit, but he didn’t know what he possibly could have ever done to end up in an army. He was just a bartender and part-time vigilante of a random city in the Free Marches. Amnesia seemed unlikely, but he wouldn’t throw it out yet.
As he looked at all the people staring at him with reverence he had never deserved, another option came to mind. Maybe he had switched places with a version of himself that ended up in a different timeline when he touched the Eye, and entering the Fade activated some sort of tenuous connection. Hopefully that meant he could find a way back to his own place and he wasn’t stuck here.
The little seed of thought he had about attempting to pretend to be this other Desmond flew out the window the moment the elf led him to a private area and lit up his hand with threatening magic.
“Whoa,” Desmond held up his hands in surrender, noticing but dismissing the green glow on his left hand, “Calm the fuck down, buddy. I’m not even threatening you.”
“Where’s the Inquisitor?” The elf demanded, ignoring Desmond’s attempt to de-escalate the situation. “Who are you?”
Desmond couldn’t even begin to craft a response before the door creaked open and several people filed into the cramped space. “Solas!” A jacked woman with close-cropped hair and heavy armor barked, “What are you doing?”
“This is not Desmond,” the elf, Solas, defended himself. “He does not recognize me and I can’t feel our connection.”
“How romantic,” Desmond quipped before he could stop himself. Everyone turned to look at him like he’d grown a second head. “I’m just saying. Jesus, calm down.”
He looked through the people packed in like sardines and recognized exactly two people. Varric the trusty dwarf, and Cullen the prickly templar. An interesting mix to be sure. Varric looked cautiously intrigued, while the templar seemed like his whole world was falling apart, for whatever reason.
“Is it a demon?” The woman from before started unsheathing her sword and Desmond’s flagging hands shot back up.
“Hey hey, that’s uncalled for,” he said, reverting to humor while in a situation he didn’t have any control over.
Solas’s eyes narrowed, “I do not believe so, but he is not our Inquisitor.”
Cullen stepped forward slightly, “Where is Desmond?”
“I am Desmond,” he responded instantly. The woman’s sword came out an inch further and he backed up a step, “Whoa hold on. I’m Desmond Miles, about twenty-eight years old, give or take, I don’t actually know. Uh, what else,” he wracked his brain for things he could tell people while not giving away information his other self might not have divulged. “Listen, I don’t know where I am, but it was entirely non-consensual, I promise.” He winced, “That sounds so bad, but yeah.”
The people studied him and a large Qunari man from the background spoke up, sharp intelligence glinting behind his single eye, “You reacted to Varric’s name.”
The dwarf blinked and pointed to his chest in confusion. Desmond grinned, “Varric? Yeah we go way back,” he winked at the blonde dwarf who stared back in bafflement. “Although not this one, I think.”
“What does that mean?” The scary woman demanded at the same time Solas said, “Are you saying you’re from an alternate timeline?”
Desmond’s eyes widened, “Well that was an incredible leap in logic and I think that’s rather suspicious. Does no one else think so?” He received blank stares and he shook his head, “Well okay then. Yes, I think I am from somewhere else. I’d like to get home, personally. If possible.”
“Where, exactly, is home for you?” Cullen asked, looking both like he’d love to have the answer, and guilty for requesting it. An intriguing combination.
“Currently? Kirkwall.”
Varric looked him up and down, “Did you know Hawke?”
Desmond blinked, “Uh, I’m not really liking the past tense? But yeah, I guess you could say that.”
“Stop being evasive and answer our damn questions!” The woman said threateningly.
“Listen, lady,” he started and she growled in an offended manner. “I would absolutely love to tell you everything, especially since you look like you could snap me in half without a thought, but I’m not gonna go around spilling all the secrets of your Desmond. I don’t know what he’s told you about his past, and I’m not going to have him come back to awkward questions, okay?”
Surprisingly, his words seemed to settle the majority of the people in the room. Desmond almost smiled at knowing this version of himself managed to find a good group of people to watch his back.
“Cassandra,” the woman said gruffly, shoving her sword back into the sheath. “Not ‘lady’. Call me that again and I’ll hurt you.”
Desmond nodded rapidly, “Sure thing. Absolutely.” He looked around the rest. “Well, I know two and a half of you, can guess the name of two more, so, nice to meet you all. Wish it could be under better circumstances.” He looked around the room at all the unsure gazes. “Anyone want to try a super experimental alcoholic beverage?”
Unsurprisingly, no one did. They even went so far as to ignore his question completely. Cassandra looked him over and sighed heavily. “This is not ideal, but we have a whole army out there who will be looking to you for answers, and you are not the one who can give them. Commander, is there any way we could postpone deciding what to do with the Grey Wardens until we can get our Inquisitor back?”
Cullen clenched his jaw. “It won’t be easy, especially once people discover something has happened.” He gave a slightly lost look Desmond’s way. “Do you think you could pretend to be him, at least until we get out of here?”
“Uh, well, I don’t really know what your Desmond acts like? Experiences shape a person, and I only have his memories up to a point.”
“I would be very interested to know how the timeline diverged for you,” Solas said.
Desmond immediately shook his head. “Not a chance. Not from me anyway.” His response seemed to get more approval from a few of the people in the room, but not Solas, who looked contemplative. “Is anyone gonna tell me how to act like your Inquisitor?”
Varric snorted. “Just act like the weight of the world is on your shoulders and you’re pretending to be fine.”
“Fuck, again?” Desmond grimaced. “Sucks dude,” he said quietly, hoping that the other version of him who this body belonged to would somehow hear the sympathy. “Alright, fine. It’s been a couple years for me, but...” he trailed off, adjusting his posture to be straight but with slightly rounded shoulders. The position felt like putting on an old coat that he had outgrown but still had nostalgia, even if a painful kind.
“Is anyone else creeped out?” Varric spoke into the sudden silence. “How does he do that?” Desmond took that to mean he was doing a good job.
Iron Bull trailed his single eye along Desmond and shuddered slightly. “I can’t see any difference. That really is creepy.”
Desmond shrugged. “What can I say? I know the feeling. Do I have to talk to anyone?”
Cassandra shook her head. “You just went through an ordeal, we will claim you require rest. Hopefully we can figure this out by tomorrow. If not...”
Desmond wasn’t sure what they’d do if they couldn’t get him back, but he wasn’t sure they knew either. Even though he really wanted to go home, there wasn’t anything more pressing requiring his presence other than work next evening (which if he switched places with this Desmond, he’d be fine). Meanwhile Inquisitor Desmond apparently led an army and was the one to make important decisions. Des did not want to be here and take over that job, especially without knowing the situation.
“So, what’s this ordeal that he went through? Maybe that will give us a clue.”
“We just got out of the Fade. Physically.” Solas sounded awed, and Desmond decided this elf was either the most suspicious person ever, or just weird. He wasn’t going to judge Inquisitor Desmond’s choice in friends, though. Well, not too much. Cullen was a... decision.
Desmond nodded. “Well there you go, I was also just in the Fade. Not physically.”
“Oh!” Varric exclaimed, “I remember when Hawke did that. So you’re not just from Kirkwall, but the past. Interesting.” He wasn’t the only one who looked interested. “Maybe Hawke should be part of these conversations.”
“No thanks,” Desmond quickly cut in. He didn’t want to see his brother look at him like a stranger. That sounded shitty.
Cassandra narrowed her eyes. “Why don’t you want him here?”
“Because it already sucks that Varric doesn’t know who I am. Garrett, too? I’m good.”
Cullen’s face twisted into an expression more complicated than Desmond’s words needed, but he honestly didn’t care enough to ask about it. “We can talk about this more later,” Cullen decided. “We’ve spent enough time here.”
“The Commander’s right,” Cassandra said. “Remember not to talk to anyone.”
“And don’t look around like a tourist,” Iron Bull spoke up. “That is a dead give away.”
Desmond sighed. “Sure, why not. Let’s get this over with.”
---
He could tell that everyone was on edge for his performance, but as much as he hated the burden of responsibility, he was used to it, and he wasn’t going to fuck over his alternate self. The guy probably had enough going on, he didn’t need Desmond blowing things up for him.
All the Inquisition’s worries were for nothing, if he did say so himself. He acted like a slightly exhausted man on a mission. He didn’t look around and allowed his counterpart’s companions to field questions, taking on a haunted look even as he nodded to people with an easy smile as if trying to reassure them. Commander Cullen herded him along somewhere while also doing his apparent best to avoid looking at or touching Desmond. If they were worried about being discovered, Desmond didn’t think it was him they should have been coaching.
Aside from some odd looks, though, no one bothered them and the group ensconced themselves in what was probably the leader’s quarters an incredibly long time ago. Desmond had gotten used to the shitty accommodations in Kirkwall, but this place was on par with Darktown, if Darktown was in a fortress instead of the sewers. Same scent of death everywhere and damp shadows.
The door clicked shut and Cassandra immediately started in on the questions, and none of them directed towards Desmond. “We need our Inquisitor back,” She stated unnecessarily. “Solas, is there anything your spirits could tell us? Varric, do you remember anything odd that Hawke had mentioned from the past? We should have grabbed him, he was the last one out before the Inquisitor.”
Varric was the first to speak. “It was honestly just one random job among many that Hawke went through in those days, and like I said, I wasn’t there. We should definitely get him, although our new friend looks a little squirrely at the thought. What, do you owe him money?”
Desmond tried to school his face into a scoff. “That asshole owes me money, not the other way around.”
“Ah.” Varric nodded as if it all made sense. “Lovers, then.”
Desmond’s choke was echoed by Cullen’s. “Fuck no.”
Varric looked him up and down. “Well, that was an overreaction. Besides, you’re not a doomed mage, so I don’t think you’re his type.”
“Anders, huh?” Desmond nodded to himself. “Makes sense.”
Cassandra cleared her throat. “As... fascinating as this conversation is, we need a solution.”
The door opened and everyone froze guiltily, but it was just Bull and a scruffy looking Garrett Hawke. “You all look like I just caught you raiding the pantry for sweets,” Hawke said with an eyebrow raise. “Good to see you alive, Glowy. I was worried for a minute there.”
Desmond waved awkwardly. “Uh. Right. Hi. Again.”
Cassandra shook her head. “This is not the Inquisitor we know. Did you notice anything odd about the Fade before you left?”
Hawke’s confusion was palpable but he shrugged. “Beyond the disgusting spider demon and watching Alistair get speared, no. Nothing out of the ordinary for a trip to the physical Fade. Now what do you mean this isn’t the Inquisitor? He doesn’t feel possessed.”
“As far as we can tell, this is a Desmond from an alternate timeline.” Solas looked like he was concentrating. “To answer your earlier question, Seeker, I would have to consult the spirits in my dreams. It might be best to allow everyone a rest and look at the problem with fresh eyes in the morning.”
Cassandra nodded. “Very well. Someone should watch him. Commander?”
Cullen looked like he would rather do anything else, but nodded..
“Can I stay?” Hawke asked, sounding excited. “It would help to have a mage, and I admit I’m incredibly curious.”
Desmond would rather stick a hot pike through his eye than spend the night with a skittish templar and his brother who didn’t know him, but he got the feeling it wasn’t really up to him. The group dispersed quickly, leaving the three of them in the falling apart room in awkward silence.
“So,” Garrett was, of course, the first one to break the quiet. “Alternate timeline Inquisitor.”
“Call me Des,” he said with a wince.
Garrett raised a brow. “Alright then, ‘Des’. Which timeline are we talking about?”
“The past, I guess. I, uh, live in Kirkwall. With you.”
Garrett’s eyes widened. “Like, romantically?”
Desmond grimaced. “No. Why does everyone think that?” Cullen looked very fascinated in a moth-eaten tapestry, Desmond couldn’t help but notice.
Garrett pouted and plopped himself on the edge of a stone desk. “Why do you sound so disgusted? You wouldn’t do me?” He gestured to his body with a salacious grin.
“I once watched you lick mystery blood off your fingers because you were curious if you could tell the difference between human and animal.” Desmond gave him a flat look.
“Could I?”
“No, you idiot. You threw up immediately after. I could never be interested in someone like that.” He watched as Garrett shrugged unapologetically.
“Sounds like me. But I think your reaction goes beyond that.”
Desmond stared at Garrett for a moment and looked away. “Adopted or not, I don’t think it’s wise to fuck your brother.”
That got both of the other occupants to stare at him. “You’re my brother?”
Desmond gave a tight smile. “Well, not yours specifically. But yeah. Desmond Hawke, at your service.” Something about that made Cullen look relieved, and Desmond was starting to get the inkling that the Commander of the Inquisition and former templar had a crush on his Inquisitor, and that was honestly the most interesting thing he’d discovered about this alternate timeline.