TWO

Curly never let himself catch a break, always working himself sick. Even so, Varric usually saw him handle things with some level of tact and professionalism. When he burst into the tavern with such a frantic air about him, Varric wondered grimly if someone had died. The dwarf watched him leave with His Inquisitorialness and pursed his lips. Whatever happened, he was sure he'd hear about it eventually. He couldn't do anything about it right now.

What he could do something about, however, was the kid. He was sitting alone in the corner, more interested in staring at his food than he was eating it. The commotion Curly caused had turned some heads, and consequently, eyes fell on Cole. Chatter died down, replaced with whispering.

"Wonder what's got Cullen's panties in a knot." Tiny rumbled from where he sat, leaning back so that his chair was balanced on two legs. Varric wondered how the poor chair could even support his weight. The Qunari might as well have been hewn from stone, with limbs the size of tree trunks and a chest so broad Varric was almost jealous.

"Hey, Bull. Who's that?" Krem asked suddenly in his husky voice, squinting in the kid's direction.

"Who?" Tiny quirked a thick eyebrow.

"The one in the odd hat."

Tiny laughed in his usual loud, wheezy fashion. "We go through this every week, Krem. That's Cole. He lives in the rafters."

Krem blinked uncomprehendingly between Tiny and the kid. Varric felt a grimace spreading on his lips. The poor kid obviously didn't want to be seen, the way he pressed himself into the shadows. It didn't appear as though his desire to become invisible was working very well. Had he lost the power completely?

"I do remember something about him, come to think of it…" Krem muttered. "Feels like I dreamed it though." He paused, then added as an afterthought, "It was a good dream, whatever it was."

"Sounds about right." Tiny replied, taking a swig from his tankard. "Where's he been, anyway? Haven't seen him up in the rafters for days."

"We, uh. Went on a little… adventure with the kid earlier." Varric answered vaguely. "He's not in good sorts. I think I'm gonna talk to him for a bit, fellas."

Without waiting for a reply, Varric snatched up a breadroll from the table, pushed himself to a standing position, and crossed the room towards the kid. He slid into the chair across from Cole, folding his thick arms on the table. He wondered how Cole was doing now… but he knew better than to ask stupid questions. He placed the bread across from the kid. "That stuff tastes better when you dip the bread in it." He told him amiably.

Cole picked it up with a thumb and forefinger and examined it like one would examine an interesting rock. Varric patiently leaned back in his chair.

"Krem could see you. Did you want him to?" The Dwarf asked.

Cole shook his head. "Everyone can see me now. I feel their eyes on me as I pass. They stare at me all the time like I'm naked." He stopped looking at the bread and lifted his head enough to give Varric a penetrating look with those creepy eyes of his. "You're not sorry."

Varric blinked. "Huh?"

Cole went back to turning the bread in his hand, tilting his head at a bit of an angle as he looked at it. "Inquisitor Trevelyan was sorry."

"Shy Khy? He's sorry about everything. He can't step on an ant without being sorry about it." Varric chuckled.

"Sorry… you're not sorry but there's sorrow. Redder than red, jagged and jutting, needling into his mind and soul... moaning, mourning, madder than madness."

Varric stiffened a little in his chair. He had no idea what Cole was talking about before, but he knew exactly what he was talking about now. And he had no intention of discussing the matter.

"Hey, Kid. Focus. What am I not sorry about?"

Cole shuddered visibly. "You wanted me to be like this."

Varric understood now. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. Kid bringing up the red lyrium threw him off. He massaged his broad forehead and gave a weary sigh."You were in a rage, Kid. We couldn't have reasoned with you and we had to act fast before you did something rash." He explained calmly. "I don't regret encouraging Khy. I think you'll like how life is now if you give it a chance."

Cole fell into silence. Varric could hear the Chargers talking at the table behind him, albeit more quietly than before. It didn't seem like they were discussing him and Cole, though, and that was at least heartening.

Then, Kid said, seemingly out of nowhere, "you let me hold Bianca. Back there. It meant something."

Varric felt the lines in his face soften. "Yeah." He recalled handing the crossbow to the kid. He had done it without giving it much thought. Looking back… well. Varric gave a little shrug at that, his attention drifting.

The minstrel Maryden began to play a slow tune nearby. Varric couldn't decide if he liked the song or not. It was sad- but the fact that it stirred his emotions made it a good story. He wished he was a musical sort. If he could play an instrument, he could tell stories without words. That was a power he sadly lacked.

Turning in his chair, he flagged down a barmaid and had her bring a bottle of mulled cider and two chalices. He filled both and slid one towards Cole. Kid didn't even notice it, absorbed in his thoughts. He was still holding the bread in one hand- probably forgot about it completey.

"When I write books, there has to be bad things that happen to my characters. They have to go through hard times and suffer a lot." Varric began.

"Characters," The kid echoed. "Fake people. You made them up in your head but other people can see them too. They're real, but not real. Almost like me."

"You're real, Cole. Much more real than my fake people." Varric chuckled and took a sip of cider. "Even though they're fake people, my readers can relate to them. They like to read about my fake people going through pain and peril, as long as it pays off in the end."

When Cole didn't reply, Varric continued. "If they didn't go through hard times, the story would be boring and it wouldn't mean anything. But if my characters suffer a lot, then they find happiness in the end, they earned it. They worked very hard to get somewhere happy, and the fact that they tried so hard makes it worth something."

He took another sip of cider, giving Cole a very thoughtful look. Though the kid wasn't looking back, he could tell he had his rapt attention. Good.

"That's why I think being a human is worth it." He leaned forward a little, a hopeful smile on his lips. "Sure, you'll get hurt. Sometimes, you'll get hurt so badly your heart feels like it's going to burst. You'll lose a lot. Family, friends, hope, dreams. But then there's the moments where you'll gain them and your world changes. Sadness and happiness, pain and joy. It's a dance that you could only watch before. But now, you're on the ballroom floor."

Cole fidgeted in his seat. "Not every person has a happy ending. Not the fake ones or real ones."

Varric frowned. Of course, Kid would know that. He could read minds- he could be absorbed in every dying person's last moments. And judging from what he gathered from his past life, he knew the kid definitely didn't have a happy ending.

"That's also part of being human. You won't know how the story is going to end."

Cole tugged at the brim of his hat with his free hand, squeezing some water from it onto the table. Varric reached across the table and touched his hand. He had to lean out far, so that his chair creaked when he moved. Sometimes it was inconvenient to be so short on human standards.

"But you can choose how you're going to live in the moment, Kid. That's the best any of us can do."

The kid didn't reply. Varric released his hand and nudged his bowl closer to him. "Nobody likes cold soup. You better eat it soon."

Cole looked down at it.

"You can do that much, kid. As far as choices go, this is a pretty easy one." Varric smiled encouragingly at him.

Cole lowered his head. Then, he dipped his bread into the soup and bit off the dampened bit. His lips pursed in concentration. Varric wondered if he remembered what food tasted like. Was this really the first thing he had ever eaten in this form?

Varric grinned. "And while we're at it, Kid, I'll ask Iron Lady or Sparkler to find you something nice to wear. You sort of smell like a wet dog. That's probably enough to turn some heads." He wondered if Cole had ever bathed before, but he never noticed any sort of scent on him until now.

Cole stopped chewing on the bread and gave Varric a wary look. "Can I keep my hat?"

"Sure. Just as long as you wash it."

Cole remained apprehensive, but he continued to eat regardless. After a few tentative bites, it seemed he suddenly realized how hungry he was. He took one bite, then another, then picked up his bowl and shoveled potatoes into his mouth so fast Varric wondered if he should try to teach him table manners next.

"Hey, hey, not so fast!" Varric said in a concerned laugh, "you'll make yourself sick!"

Cole didn't seem to hear him. He swallowed thickly and grabbed at the cider, nearly tossing the cup back as he drank a few gulps. Then he made a face. He coughed and spluttered, slopping some cider from the chalice down the front of his leathers. Varric almost found it comical. He would've laughed if it wasn't for the look of utter betrayal on Cole's face.

"It's not water! What is it?" He asked, snagging his own throat.

"Cider. Never had cider before?"

"I don't like it!"

Varric sighed, then flagged down the barmaid again. At least Cole was eating something now. That was one less thing to worry about. After the barmaid replaced Cole's chalice with a wooden cup of fresh water, Varric silently planned what he was to do next. Talk Vivienne into dragging Cole off to the baths, probably. He'd ask Dorian, but he bemusedly wondered if he could trust him with Cole's newfound humanity.

All the while, a nagging concern plagued the back of his mind. What in Thedas did Curly need Khy so badly for?