"Afternoon, boys." Hawke ambles into the lab, Ser Pounce darting forward and then back from the trail of water she's dripping behind her. It's a fight to keep the heavy bag from dropping off her shoulder to the floor, but she manages to do it without too much noise or accidentally squishing the kitten. "How's the mad science coming along todaaaa - Aveline! Hi!"
She freezes, trying for her best innocent smile, though there's really not much point to pretending. Aveline's been in the Drift with her over a dozen times by now, she knows full well what Hawke does with her down time, and though she doesn't approve - really doesn't approve - she keeps that to the Drift, which means she also knows exactly why Hawke needs to do it, and so she's never said a word.
"I didn't… miss something, did I?" Hawke says. "I thought we had a few days until the next run-through."
Jaegers are the toughest and most formidable machines in existence, but their upkeep is a surprisingly delicate and constant process, especially when it comes to linking man and machine. Aveline is in the top half of her drivesuit, hooked up to a dozen machines all spitting out numbers across half as many screens and Hawke doesn't understand any of it, more than happy to leave the science to the scientists. Anders has yet to look in her direction, fingers clicking away at the keyboard.
"Just a recalibration of the skin-to-suit relays. I found a way to shave off a second or two. I'll do yours up once I've got the data on hers."
Karl is perched at his own computer, with a similar bundle of wires trailing out but all of these leading to where Bethany sits, the synaptic mapping overlay carefully interwoven through her hair. It's probably twice as sensitive as the ones they use to pilot the Jaegers, all of it custom kit - this is Karl's pet project, and Hawke's stepped into this moment too often for it to break her heart but oh, it still does every time.
"Hey there, sis."
"You are bleeding." Bethany says.
"Bleeding?" That's enough to pull Anders from the controls, and he frowns at her from across the room.
"Don't worry," she says. "Nothing fell off that I can't afford to lose."
Anders keeps staring, until Hawke lifts both hands up, wiggling her fingers to prove she's all right. It's just a shallow scrape on her arm, is all, a bit of an unlucky handshake with the friendly edge of a jagged rock, and there's plenty in the lab to fix her up.
Every Jaeger brings their entourage along for the ride, and each team in Kirkwall has its own dedicated lab space, the place for the drivesuits to be repaired or improved, or for the Jaeger ground crews to store extra gear and special equipment - the place to do anything much that needs doing, with techs who know them down to their brain scans. Hawke's been here long enough for Karl and Anders to feather their little nest with all sorts of odds and ends, with stacks of books and electronic equipment, bits of Kaiju in various jars, old reports and cat toys and new reports and more equipment all jostling for position.
The Jaeger program's not an exact science, even after all this time. The best they've got of what the Ancient Imperium left behind is a jumbled mix of whatever they can reverse-engineer and whatever the dwarves feel like sharing, though they can be tetchy as hell when it comes to explaining just how anything actually works. The Shatterdomes are - no surprise - the most technologically advanced parts of the city, but even here they have the occasional rolling blackout, and out from the city it goes from lyrium power to horse-drawn cart in a glance.
Anders says everything in the old Imperium was connected, all the people, all the industry, everything humming along bundles of wire or invisible beams - there were even machines hanging way up past the clouds, fired off into the sky, but the last of those fell and burned to dust before her grandmother's grandmother was born.
"You should at least ask if you're needed before you run off like that." Aveline says, watching as Hawke slaps down a few bandages, quickly wrapping up her arm. "I woke up and you were already gone."
Hawke left well before sunrise. It takes more than eleven hours round-trip if she wants to get anywhere worth going, and that's with hitching rides both ways from Varric. He isn't any less worried about her little adventure hobby than Aveline, but it's not like all of them aren't risking their lives more days than not.
"I'm crap at downtime, you know that. Besides, the Kaiju are sticking to schedule, so there's nothing left to do but wait for the recruits."
Three more days, and she gets to see who's left standing. The other Rangers place bets sometimes, but she hasn't bothered to check the odds on her favorite. It isn't like Isabela's going to bet against her anyway.
"You've got that letter to write."
Hawke grimaces. "What's that, Av? It's almost like you said something I don't care about."
If she's going to get glared at, she might as well deserve it. Aveline doesn't disappoint, leveling one of her better disapproving frowns.
"It's not proper to keep a king waiting, Hawke."
Hawke sighs, dropping into the nearest chair, toeing herself around in a slow circle. She knows what this is about, getting a friendly letter from the king. Orlais has been grumbling ever since Ferelden got itself a new king, and they've had eyes on the country ever since it became one. Hawke has never had to fight anything but Kaiju in a Jaeger and Maker willing, that won't change anytime soon. It doesn't seem like Ferelden's trying to provoke anything, but the king's clearly seeing which favors he can hope to call in.
"We still fly Ferelden colors. I think that says what needs to be said. I can't even believe he remembered we were here."
"Well, he did, and I'm not about to let you weasel out of this."
"But I'm so good at weaseling." Hawke kicks off the floor, sending the chair spinning fast. "Dear King Alistair, I'm very glad you're still alive and not a useless tosspot and my dog thinks you have nice hair. Love, Hawke."
"P.S." Anders says. "You smile like a git. Wardens don't smile, look it up."
"I think he has a fine smile." Karl says, and stands up, slowly stretching out his back. He takes a few steps to the chair, gently removing the the overlay. Without all the extra material to make it battle worthy, it almost looks pretty, some fairy diadem. "Well my dear, I thank you again for your patience. I've collected a generous amount of data, and I look forward to spending another long evening with your ever-delightful brain."
"Don't let him flatter you, Bethany." Anders says. "A new frontal lobe passes by with an interesting wrinkle, and before you know it you're on the curb."
"I would never."
It's nice that they laugh, and make jokes, and talk to Hawke's sister like… like she's still there, still a person. Karl believes it, at least. He won't entertain talk of her being gone, of her brain being burnt out or damaged beyond repair. He's never once shown any sign that he's lost hope, that he's anywhere close to giving up, and Hawke's not sure how long she'd make it without that steady certainty.
"How're you doing, sis? Good day?"
Hawke flips a few strands away from her sister's blank eyes. She'd never had the impulse to fuss until now, all these silly, nervous gestures trying to fix what's well beyond her ability to repair. Bethany can tell, if anything being Tranquil only makes her more observant, without her own needs or hopes or fears getting in the way. Hawke does what she can to smile, to keep things away from a conversation they've had a dozen times before. As if there's anywhere else for her to go. As if Hawke would ever let that happen.
"I am fine. Orana is late."
"Stuck between ration lines, I bet." Karl says.
The Rangers eat well, it's necessary to keep them in top fighting form, and the family name's got enough to take care of Bethany and Orana, but even at the best of times there's no simple trip to the markets and it's been a poor season all around, even by Kirkwall standards. At least she's got the dog with her, so there won't be anything worse to worry about than a delay.
"I was supposed to go to the storeroom to help unpack deliveries." Bethany says. "I would prefer to be of use."
The closest Bethany can come now, to a want or a need.
"I can take her, Hawke." Aveline says. "I'm going in that direction anyway, and I think Anders is done here."
"Finished for now." Anders says, leaning back in his chair to rub at his eyes under his dark glasses. The room's kept dim for him as much as they can, but some days it helps more than others. Hawke scoops up Ser Pounce and puts the kitten on his owner's shoulder, Anders reaching up to scratch behind his ears.
"So, have you heard anything?" Hawke says, as Aveline slowly unhooks herself from what she's wearing of the drivesuit, mostly the upper part, Karl moving to assist. "How's that recruit of yours doing? David? Donald?"
"Donnic." Aveline says flatly, "you know it's Donnic and… he's fine. Everything's fine The first simulation trials were this morning. He passed, of course."
"Yeah, he's done sims before, right?"
"Hawke."
The Drift's taken care of the rest, the conversation - argument - they'd need to have otherwise. Hawke already knows that Donnic's been trying to get Aveline to put him forward as a Ranger candidate for the better part of a year, and she's dragged her heels so long that he's just gone and signed up for the whole regimen, to reach her side on his own.
Hawke's felt what it's like, to know that he's a good man, a good soldier - maybe more, but all that knowing is undercut by other thoughts of another good man. How while Hawke and her sister had been busy desperately trying to beat back the edge of the Blight in the harbor, Aveline had been miles away from her Jaeger and from Wesley - not even the Rangers had known, no one had seen it coming like it did - and he'd died when the Kaiju hit the coast, one of several towns just torn apart. Aveline still had his Academy shield, a graduation token found dented and charred in the rubble, because they'd never found the body.
Aveline has a perfect Drift record, not the slightest hint of rabbiting, nothing going wrong from their very first time together, after Bethany, when even Hawke didn't know what might happen next. She's been in steel bunkers less solid than Aveline's mind, everything steady and reassuring. The both of them are strong, and focused, committed to protecting the city and each other. The both of them are grieving, and pushing through it, or past it, or whatever it's called when the work goes on but the hurt's still there. Aveline's come a long way, and Hawke's glad that Donnic's finally got enough sense to just take that final step out of her hands.
"I'm still your partner, Hawke, before anything else. Whatever happens, that's not going to change."
Not that Meredith was ever big on cheery speeches, but even she had seemed a bit more with the unrelenting doom than usual. Hawke hasn't quite gathered the strength yet for another round of Guess-What-Marshall-Stannard's-Not-Telling.
"No worries." She grins. "I'm sure you can think of a few positions for Donald to fill in his downtime. Or, you know, we'll brainstorm together, next time we're in the Drift."
"Wow, just when I think I've run out of all the things in the world to not hear." Anders says.
Aveline only gives her the usual level, patient I-regret-the-day-you-met-Isabela stare, though she knows the Rivaini pilot's more of a co-conspirator than any kind of instigator.
"I'll see you later, Hawke - and finish that letter!"
"I'll let the dog write it. He's witty." She calls, and then Aveline is out the door, with Bethany a step behind.
Hawke kicks at the floor, sending her chair across the room to Karl's table, and then back to Anders' side of the room, Ser Pounce back to the floor and scampering at shadows in the far corner. It's amazing they've never lost him in the carnage that is Anders' version at a storage system.
Karl doesn't say anything, and Hawke doesn't ask, trusting him to update her with anything new about Bethany even if it's hard not to pelt him with questions after every session. A bit easier today, when she's got some revelations of her own.
"I found it."
"Found what?" Anders says, still staring at his screen.
"Not sure. I found something."
The bag feels even heavier than it did on the trip up, but Hawke's just as careful as she gets it on the table.
"How far down did you get this time?" Anders says, finally spinning around in his chair.
"I almost didn't make it back in time. Varric wasn't real happy. I found a new passage, I don't know if it opened up or I just never saw it before. Definitely not on any maps. It was… massive, whatever it was for." Hawke notices a claw mark in the bag, a little surprised there's just the one. "I think I made some new friends."
The Kaiju bring other creatures with them, either carried along in the water from wherever it is they come from or clinging to them when they surface. Thankfully they're all small, the biggest ones no larger than a draft horse, and they prefer to keep to the darkest places, underground… which does make exploring the secret hidey-holes of the Ancient Magisters a bit more fun. Still, it means they all haven't been picked clean of valuables, and in the case of a beautiful little slice of hell called the Bone Pits, the lower levels have hardly been touched at all.
"I wish you wouldn't go alone." Karl says, tapping gently at her bandaged arm. It's almost certainly as stupid as it seems, but she's faster on her own, and even having Aveline know what they're up to feels risky, as much for her sake as for theirs. Hawke's pretty good at tucking certain thoughts away from the new recruits, though they're usually too busy trying to process whatever's in front of them to even think about getting curious.
Besides, for all her scrounging, Hawke hasn't had all that much to hide - until today.
"So, what did you…" Anders says, moving toward the bag, "it's more than just bits and pieces this time."
A number of old texts suggest that a lot of very important Magisters did a lot of very bad things here, and for all they know about the Imperium, they were probably keen on leaving some evidence behind. What's the use of being a twenty-four karat gold-plated bastard if it can't echo through the ages? Hawke's been searching caves and catacombs when the opportunity arises, because if there's any information to be found about Tranquility, if even one Magister figured out how to reverse it...
She slips the bag free, dumping out a usual few bits of Ancient Tevinter tech that might prove interesting, anything she saw that looked like it might have held information, even if it's probably corrupted past retrieval, or they have no way of knowing how to get it out again.
The real prize, though, nearly dwarfs the table she sets it on, the book metal-bound at the edges with a thick cover that seems waterproof - as much of a chest as a binding, and Hawke is very careful with the latches and even more careful as she pulls it open, pages that possibly haven't seen topside since the fall of the Imperium.
"Maker's balls, what am I even looking at…" Anders breathes, moving in close, and soon both he and Karl are wearing gloves, turning each page with exquisite care as Hawke looks on, Ser Pounce purring in her arms. It doesn't look like anything to her except complicated, lines of text and even more complicated diagrams competing for the page space, some faded and damaged by age and time but for the most part it's held up surprisingly well.
"Are you catching any of this?" Karl says, speaking in the same hushed tones. Hawke is fairly certain they've forgotten all about her. "It's a cipher, but I've never seen..."
The other fun part about chipping away at the past is how insanely paranoid the Tevinters were, well before they even had anything to be paranoid about. Nearly everything that's ever been found is encrypted - each Magister with their own codes, and occasionally even changing those codes from one document to the next. It baffles her how they ever managed to get anything done.
"I think some of these are actual notes. It's not - they bound up the working copy." Anders says, and he's excited now, though still moving with exquisite care, one finger hovering over the page, muttering a litany that's as vulgar as it is reverential, until he chokes on the last holy fucking shit.
"Karl. Look at that. The rest of it is gibberish, but this bit - the code, I've seen it before and the name…"
"Corypheus." Karl says, which also sounds quite a bit like holy fucking shit.
"Pass the Ranger a clue, boys?" Hawke says.
"Corypheus." Anders repeats, the way he always does when Hawke ought to be smarter than she is. "As in, Magister Corypheus. As in, these might… I can't believe I'm saying this, but we could be looking at the blueprints for the very first Blight."
"Holy fucking shit." Hawke says.
"Yeah." Anders says, taking a few slow, deliberate breaths. "How many of these books did you say were down there?"
"Sixty? Maybe more."
No one speaks for a moment.
"It might not be the same Corypheus." Karl says, always the realist. "Maker knows the Tevinters could afford to invest in a few more names."
"But if it is…"
"Anders."
"If it is, Karl…" Anders slaps his hand on the table, far away from the precious tome, and runs his fingers through his hair, and he's laughing just a little. "Do you know how many years we'd get in the Aeonar just for touching this book? We'd never see the light of day again."
"We live in Kirkwall. What's this 'light of day' you speak of?" Hawke says, but she's reeling too, and not because she's worried about the Templars or their consequences. If it is what Anders says it is, then it's like any other piece of old tech, and if they can find out what the Magisters did they can find a way to undo it. Stop the Blights. Maybe even seal the Breaches for good.
It doesn't feel like hope, she can't quite allow that yet, but at least it was worth dragging this damn thing back to the surface, even if she's not certain where they'll store the other fifty-nine.
"I told you I found something."