Contrary to popular belief, Isabela did actually sleep. She didn't just fuck and drink and generally cause mayhem. Most nights she slept, and slept alone, in her room in the Hanged Man. So she's almost dropped off when Marian turns up, eyes wide and a little wild and Isabela has to drag herself to her feet to wrap something around her body, push the warrior into a chair and a drink into her hand.

She knows the look.

Marian's had a letter from Bethany.

It's the same every time, once or twice a month, Bethany writes, tells her she's fine. She's always fine. Marian even believes in the light of day. But at night, the night of the letter, all the other woman wants to do is break into the Gallows and break Bethany out.

Tonight, tonight is a bad night. She knows Marian well, too well, she thinks. She knows the warrior wants to head to the gallows and kill every Templar in there that has even looked at Bethany.

She wonders, briefly, if Marian would be the same if she were locked up somewhere. Even briefer, she hopes that Marian would be.

"Drink it all sweetheart," she says and Marian downs the drink without even pausing.

Bad night.

"Want to talk about it or fight it out?" she asks. "Or fuck it out."

Marian just holds out her glass for another drink.

"We could go right now," she says. "It's late, most the Templars are in quarters. We don't have to kill them all..."

That was a good sign and Isabela stifles a yawn and sits down on the bed. She doesn't drink herself, she's far past exhausted already after today's disappointing attempt to find the relic. Another drink would knock her out and Marian needs her right now.

"We can't kill any of them. You and me, drunk and tired?" Isabela asks. "We'd get caught, hung and then what would happen to Bethany."

It's an old argument, she can say it by rote. But it helps, it works, and Marian deflates a little. She downs another drink and the pirate tops it up right away. It works.

"I would feel better."

"And Bethany would suffer at the hands of some pissed off Templars who've lost friends and hate you for it."

"Fuck."

"Exactly sweetheart."

They're silent for a moment, Isabela likes how this follows a predictable timetable if nothing else. She likes Marian, a lot, likes spending time with her but she hates how she tortures herself like this. It's not Marian's fault Bethany is in the circle now.

Isabela blames herself.

She had been so insistent on not going into the Deep Roads, she had offered to take care of Bethany. Isabela was supposed to be watching her, looking after her. And now Bethany was in the Gallows.

Marian has yet to mention it.

Isabela doesn't want to mention it because she doesn't want to lose Marian.

So they're not talking about that and instead they're talking about not breaking into the Gallows to break Bethany out.

Isabela closes her eyes for a moment, sways and starts, sitting up straight. Marian hasn't noticed, she's staring at her drink. The pirate reaches out, and tips the bottom of the glass up towards Marian's mouth.

"Drink up Hawke," she says, wondering if she's slurring.

Marian does, downs the drink in one but refills it herself. She sways too, from alcohol not exhaustion and that's a good sign too. The warrior has already had a drink before coming over. This was getting easier and easier.

"I should've taken her with me," she says, voice still clear, "I always took her with me."

"Except to war."

"Except to war."

"Because she could've been caught or killed."

"Exactly."

"And she could've been killed in the Deep Roads," Isabela says, following their script. "Or worse," she adds.

"Worse?" Marian looks up then, eyes a little glassy, blinking hard.

"Aveline told me about Wesley," she replies and finally lies down because she can't sit up any more. "It could've been worse."

"You tired?" Marian asks.

"Exhausted sweetheart."

She stands then, walks over to the bed and looks down at Isabela.

"Thanks, Bela," she tells her.

Isabela laughs then because she's too exhausted now, closing her eyes against the fierce beauty that is Marian Hawke's face, even in her depression.

"Don't thank me, Hawke," she says, "this is my fucking fault." She stops, eyes popping open to look at Marian. "Forget I said that."

"How is this your fault?"

Marian sits on the edge of the bed, falls onto it, frowning. Isabela shifts over to give her some room.

"The last thing you said to me before you went on the expedition darling." Isabela closes her eyes again, remembers walking away with Bethany and Leandra back to Lowtown, thinking about her next move and listening to Bethany and Leandra argue about the expedition. "The last thing you said was Look after her Isabela."

"I'd forgotten that."

"I hadn't."

Marian is quiet for a moment, before moving to lie down on the bed next to Isabela. This is new, the pirate thinks and she's not sure what's going to happen. That Hawke isn't yelling at her or storming out has to be a good thing. Still, she doesn't risk speaking, or even looking at her, just waiting for Marian.

"I don't blame you." Isabela takes a breath. "She's not your sister."

She doesn't argue, doesn't see the point. They argue enough about the fact that is isn't Marian's fault either and she still blames herself. Probably always will Isabela realises.

"I'm sorry Hawke," she says.

Marian doesn't reply and it's not until she's falling asleep herself that she realises Hawke has done the same.

The next morning, Hawke is gone and Isabela is mostly relieved. Mostly. She isn't sure exactly what she's supposed to do with the woman the day after one of those nights. Normally Hawke goes back to her new Hightown mansion, drunk, passes out and Isabela doesn't see her for a couple of days.

She assumes things will be the same.

Except Marian turns up a few minutes later with some breakfast and some tea.

"I thought it a bit early for ale."

"Don't be silly Hawke," she says, wrapping a robe around her once more as she sits up. "What are you doing here?"

"Thanking you for last night at least," Marian sits at the little table and pours them both some tea. "As for all the other nights, I'm sure I can think of another way to thank you."

She grins then and Isabela smiles. This is the Hawke she's most comfortable with, deflecting and flirting. It's definitely easier, she realises, but not necessarily better. She dresses, aware that Marian is watching her.

"Maker, you do dress boots first," the warrior moans, "that's just..."

She trails off as Isabela joins her at the table.

"Just what Hawke?" she asks, leaning forward to take some of the food she's brought up. Hawke is looking down and the pirate takes the opportunity to kiss her slack mouth. She's caught up in it though, too quickly, a quick kiss deepening before she can pull away.

"What was that for?"

"Consider it part payment," Isabela says.

They start to eat, Hawke now watching Isabela's lips instead of her breasts, pausing only to find her tea and drink a little of it.

"Should've gotten ale after all."

Isabela chuckles.

"What are you going to do about Bethany?" she asks.

"Nothing, you know that."

"Just checking," Isabela drains her tea, steals the rest of Hawkes'. "You'll keep coming and seeing me though sweetness? When she writes?

"If you're not too tired."

"I'm never too tired for you Hawke," Isabela says and she means it too, she's sure of it. "Maybe we can fight it out sometime."

"Or fuck it out."

"I'll hold you to that," she says.

Hawke smiles, finally and stands.

"Come see me in my shiny mansion sometime and we'll talk about it."

Isabela will she decides, because whatever she has with Hawke, whatever the feelings brimming on the edge the pirate may have, she definitely wants to fool around with the warrior.