He had told her that he would always come back. That first time he had left the Tower, on his first mission. It had gone terribly wrong from the beginning, but he had kept his promise. Even if he was half-dead by the time he made it back to the tower he had kept his promise. His devotion to the Templar Code might not be what it should be, his faith in the Chantry might have been shaken however there were some promises he intended on keeping. Some that he had to keep, for his own sanity and for the faith he put in his friends. Those promises were made to less than a handful of people, but they were promises that the man would go to the ends of the earth to see done. It was one of the few things that he did have his own brand of faith in.
He had changed. His body and his mind. Part of him regretted that change. He had grown apart from the woman that was his first and best friend. He could tell himself it was for the best, that she needed to be friends with mages. That a friendship between a mage and a Templar always ended poorly. That she would be more happy in the long run this way. It was a good argument, a solid argument. Sometimes it even managed to convince himself that is was the truth.
Sometimes.
Now though it was far from his mind. The presence of the dark haired mage crying in the dirt had rendered all of his careful arguments into nothing. He had just acted as he always did, and as he always would. He regretted none of it, especially not now. With the Joining just around the corner there wasn’t time for regrets. He knew the stories as well as anyone, how not all of the candidates came back from the joining. How there were fatalities among them all. He was more than half sure that was why Cullen had agreed to send so many mages, he knew the dangers as well as anyone. He needed, for his own sanity, to talk to the woman before time came that he might not see her again.
He was lost in his thoughts and nearly missed her words. He shook his head slightly as if to clear it of the wisps of ideas that clouded it. “Of course,” he murmured back towards her as he let her slip to the ground. It was almost with reluctance that he did it. This was the closest that he had been to her in nearly three years. He stood steady as she touched his bare shoulder, the urge to reach out and steady her himself was restrained after a moment. He helped her forwards and through the door as she hobbled into the room. Seeing her to the bed was easy and he stepped back a half stride to close the door behind him. He was still out of uniform, and he didn’t want Maddock stalking past to find him here like this. The elder Templar already didn’t think very highly of him. Finding him in a situation like this would make things more difficult for Beth though, and that was the last thing that he wanted.
He glanced around the little room before nodding. He couldn’t help but half-smile though at her words. “Directions as precise as always.” he said as he stepped quickly to the vanity to pull it open. The vial was right where she said, and he plucked up the tiny thing of glass and blue liquid. A glance at it before he turned and crossed the small distance back towards the bed to offer the vial towards her.
"You sure you are going to be alright, Beth?" he was worried, he always worried when it came to her.