Yeah...last chapter got just about the enthusiastic review I expected.

For this chapter...in my defense...I think I spiced up the Isabela introduction. The goal was to have it make a bit more sense than it does in the game...or at least to contextualize her behavior...we shall see...

Hawke shivered again and pulled his paper thin blanket tighter around his chest in a futile effort to stop from shivering again. He was still reeling from what had happened at the Chantry. The mage they'd gone to save, Karl, had been branded a tranquil, they'd been ambushed by Templars, and to top it off, Anders had turned out to be some glowy abomination who wasn't 'really' an abomination; not that that 'really' made any of it better.

He shivered again. As he tended to avoid the Gallows, he'd never been that close to a tranquil mage before-he'd never heard one speak or seen the way their eyes seemed to see everything that was around them and yet remained completely dead. The scar-the brand-on Karl's forehead had been new, bright and pink, and he shivered again and sat up in bed, accepting that he wasn't going to be able to sleep.

He slipped quietly from his bunk and walked shakily to the main room of the hovel. And the Templars…his father had warned both him and Bethany of their ability to suppress magic but he'd never felt it before. He could still feel them, their powers; it was like a hand was curled around his neck, suffocating him. Only it was reaching even deeper, cutting off something inside that was even more vital then air. He shivered again and tried to pull forth the mana to start a fire. His mana was still all gone, fading in and out like he was drowning, sinking below the water only to come up for gasps of air long enough to continue fighting, but not long enough to actually breathe. Hawke staggered over to his chest and cracked it open. He pulled out a vial of lyrium and sank against the side of the hovel, battling with the stopper in the vial. His hand was shaking so badly he could barely get his fingers to close around the cap.

He brought the vial to his mouth and pulled the cap out with his teeth before gulping down the liquid appreciatively. He winced as the initial head rush hit him and then moaned contently as it passed, leaving his body humming as magic coursed through him. He breathed deeply, finally feeling his eyelids start to droop.

Next Day: Hanged Man:

Hawke ran his hand over his face, trying to ward off the exhaustion he felt. He'd managed to get maybe two hours of sleep, and the whole time he'd been dreaming of spirits of justice and tranquil mages. He shivered; they had hardly been pleasant dreams.

The smashing of a bottle startled him and he looked towards the bar, alarmed to see yet another bar fight. He cocked his head as he watched, a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he watched Lucky get his ass kicked by a scantily clad pirate. He grinned as she held a knife to Lucky's throat, calmly making him back down. Hawke chuckled lightly to himself; Lucky was an ass, and his name was more ironic than that dwarf contact of Athenril's who went by the name Worthy. It was a refreshing change to see him-and his entire entourage of swill-get their asses handed to them.

He approached the bar slowly, his eyes sweeping the room. Varric was nowhere to be seen, which was unusual, since the dwarf split his time evenly between following Hawke and drinking and telling stories at the Hanged Man-it also made his trip here a bit of a waste. Coriff spotted his approach and gave a wave but didn't bother coming over; Hawke was saving for the expedition, he had no spare coin to spend on drinks-even if he desperately wanted one-and Coriff knew it.

The raven haired pirate was watching him from her perch adjacent to him. She took a slow sip of her whiskey and innocently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Hawke swallowed hard and watched as a less than innocent smirk danced briefly across her face, and he realized that the gesture had been highly calculated. She was testing him.

She wanted something.

Realizing this, Hawke allowed his eyes to stay on her, surveying her appreciatively. She stood slowly and sauntered towards him, her hips swaying freely in her snug white tunic. "My," she mused, a coy smile tugging at her lips, "And here I thought the only men in this place were besotted fools who couldn't hoist the main sail," she mused. Hawke suppressed a shiver, her words were low, husky, and oh so suggestive.

He grinned and forced the growing fire in his belly to subside, "When you say hoist the main sail what do you really mean?" he offered innocently, a knowing glint in his eye.

A genuine smirk danced at the corner of the pirates lips; for whatever reason, his retort seemed to have a positive effect on her. Hawke's grin widened; that was certainly a rare occurrence.

She shrugged, feigning innocence, "I meant nothing," the coy grin returned, "It is a simple task that requires some strength, skill, and…a small measure of sobriety," she finished, her eyes openly appraising him.

He chuckled, "And yet you've been keeping company with Lucky?" He teased her, a playful grin on his face.

She rolled her eyes in exasperation, a good natured smile gracing her caramel colored face. He watched her lips pull into a smile, the small piercing just below her lips bopping slightly as her skin moved. He felt his hand twitch, repressing the sudden urge to reach out and run his fingers across her lips. "Lucky…doesn't really have a main sail," she mused, a small pout forming briefly on her lips before she brought her attention back to him, "I'm Isabela-formerly Captain Isabela," she clarified ruthfully, the slightest edge of bitterness tingeing her words, "But without a ship that title rings a bit hollow," she shrugged, trying to downplay her obvious irritation.

"Hawke," he nodded his head in greeting, not complaining when the small gesture put his eyes temporarily at eye level with her chest; from the small glint of amusement in her eyes as his eyes returned to hers, she was hardly upset that his eyes had wandered. He swallowed again, feeling well out of his league next to her. She was easily a few years his senior, four, maybe five, but it was the way she carried herself, so confident, that just oozed of…experience that left him feeling like he was drowning. He felt his mouth run dry, "No Captain or previously captain though," he added as an afterthought, trying to keep his voice light.

She chuckled again and finally slid gracefully into the seat next to him. "You're Fereldan aren't you?" He stiffened slightly; did he really smell like a wet dog? Maker…His cheeks started to burn and he again felt out of his league. Realizing his interpretation of her words she continued quickly without losing the slow seductive melody of her voice, "You have that look about you," she explained, smiling again sincerely, without elaborating on whatever THAT was supposed to mean. She paused a moment, taking a sip from her glass, "I was in Denerim not too long ago," she added thoughtfully.

"I've never been," Hawke admitted honestly, wishing he had the willpower left to say something witty. He watched as she swirled her drink slowly, her eyes fixed on his face, "Were you there during the uh, -when the Archdemon fell," he added, suddenly feeling awkward.

She chuckled, whether it was at his question or his obvious discomfort he wasn't sure, "No, I left long before that thankfully…but I did meet the Grey Wardens," she admitted, her eyes taking on a far off quality. She shiverd slightly. Isabela finished off her drink and turned to flag down Coriff for another, "You know, you might be just what I'm looking for to solve a little…problem I have," she said finally, watching his expression with great interest.

Hawke nodded slowly; so he'd been right after all, she did just want to use him and discard him.

Maker, why did that idea sound so absurdly appealing?

"And what is it that you need?" he asked, feeling out of practice as he lowered his voice in what he hoped was at least a mildly seductive manner.

"Someone from my past has been pestering me," Isabela explained, not seeming to register his inflection, or simply not caring now that he was so obviously wrapped around her finger, he didn't know, "I've arranged for a duel, if I win, he'll leave me alone."

"A duel?" Hawke felt a genuine grin stretch across his lips.

She shrugged coyly, "I like duels. It's what I do," she replied cryptically. "And if I win, he'll be dead-problem solved." He certainly couldn't argue with that logic. "But…I don't trust him to play fair," she admitted, and Hawke saw a small flash of anger and maybe…fear…cross her face, but it was gone before he could tell for sure. "I need someone to watch my back," she finished, letting her fingers circle the rim of her shot glass sensually, "There would be…payment…of course," she added huskily, leaving Hawke at the mercy of his overactive imagination to figure out what she meant by payment.

"I think I could manage watching your back," he agreed fluidly, relieved that he could manage at least one witty one liner while she was being so distracting.

The pirate chuckled, and again, Hawke found himself unsure of what she was laughing at; his comment or her effortless job of wrapping him around her finger, "I'll bet," she agreed, winking at him. "I'll be in Hightown after sunset," she explained as she stood from her chair. Her fingers danced lightly up his bare arm and she watched his muscles flex and tense under her touch. She walked away from him slowly, her fingers ghosting up past his shoulder before breaking contact; she left without looking back.

He swallowed hard, willing his suddenly racing heart to come back under control. A sudden thought struck him and made his cheeks flush red; Aveline would murder him for being such a gullible pig.

Oh shit. She'd sent him a letter, requesting that he meet her at the Keep. He scrambled from his seat quickly and ran out the door, hoping he'd be able to think of a good excuse for keeping her waiting as he ran.

The Keep: Not Much Later:

"Aveline," Hawke said, his voice coated in charm in what he already knew would be a useless attempt at alleviating her fiery temper.

She didn't turn from the duty roster as she responded. "Hawke," she nodded her head slightly.

This stopped him cold and he frowned. He'd expected her full attention, and more specifically her full fury. He shifted his weight uncomfortably as she continued to stare at the roster in front of her, "It's been a while…hasn't it?" he offered finally; and it had been a while, he hadn't talked with her since the riots, over a week ago now. It still felt strange not seeing her on a daily basis like he had when they'd worked together for Athenril.

She spun quickly, "What? Oh, right…sorry," she still sounded distracted. "It feels like we just talked," she admitted, "Information is one of the few perks of this job," the red head added as she gestured for him to follow her to a more secluded area of the barracks.

"That and you don't have to sleep in Lowtown," Hawke offered cheerfully. He hesitated, "Carver sent in an application to join…your recommendation might go a long way," he explained, not wanting to ask any favors of Aveline as she was just getting onto her own feet, but unable to resist the instinct to do what he could for his obnoxious little brother.

Ignoring his comment about Carver she pushed on, "Watch out for Bartrand, he's a son of a bitch," she said warily.

Hawke shrugged, unfazed by her knowledge of the goings on of his life, "I like his brother enough; Bartrand can't be all bad."

Aveline sighed; even after all this time, Hawke was still willing to give people the benefit of the doubt. Sometimes his lack of suspicion, even after all they'd gone through-all he'd gone through for years before she'd met him-made her want to smack him silly.

"He's a son of a bitch," she repeated empathically. The distant look returned to her eyes, "If you're determined to get in on the Expedition…I might have some work for you," she said quietly, almost to herself.

He cocked his head one side thoughtfully. "What's the job?" he asked nervously, unsettled by her obvious unease.

"Highway men," Aveline said, her nose curling in disgust, "An ambush near Sundermount…probably for a caravan but…I can't find any shipments or logs worth ambushing," she bit her lips. "Doesn't matter though, either way, their activities need to be stopped."

Hawke grinned, "I do hope it's the Coterie; it's been so long since I've been able to kick Brekkars ase."

Aveline grinned, "I'd just as soon avoid a reunion personally."

He chuckled, "Well, regardless Aveline, you have yourself a partner," he promised. "Just like old times," he smiled sincerely.

Aveline allowed a small smile of appreciation to grace her lips; then she was all business again, "I knew I could count on you Hawke. Now, let's go collect that fool brother of yours and head out," she ordered.

So...thats...the first taste of Isabela I suppose...gosh I'm nervous.

Anyways, I'm in bed after a minor surgery thingie, SOOOO updates can come as quickly as the reviews do...if that helps incentivize you at all.

Enjoy and Review!