*WARNING* This chapter includes the death of a catalyst character, and the mentioning of a car crash.

11. A Silver Lining

It had been three months since they'd decided to try again. Three glorious months full of things Cassandra—only until recently—had dared to long for. It was full of sleepy morning kisses, passionate nights, and better companionship than she could have ever asked for. It wasn't without its rough patches of course, but instead of being truly angry when a spat came about, she felt invigorated by it—no matter how irritating Varric could make himself out to be at the time. Cassandra knew what this meant. She was in love. Her soul had decidedly taken flight and nothing could take away the happiness she felt.

Until today.

She was in the middle of her show when it happened. The weather had changed quickly; the wind collecting clouds like a child not willing to share and the resulting rain was coming down in sheets—a summer storm was on the horizon. The streets, now extremely slick with rain and oil being brought to the surface, made it a particularly bad day for driving. Cassandra's boss and friend, Dorothea, was supposed to be coming in to have their quarterly meeting for the radio station. From what Cassandra had later heard, Dorothea was trying to make a right hand turn when a car came flying through the intersection and slammed into the driver's side. Her car was subsequently pushed into a traffic light pole, crumpling the vehicle in half and killing her on impact. But that wasn't the worst part. The person who had such little thought to the sanctity of life had the audacity to flee the scene. A coward—in both action and morals, to be sure.

It wasn't until after her show that she found all this out, of course. Leliana's face was that of a lost child—all tear stained and bleak-looking, peering through the door to the booth as Cassandra finished her segment. Instantly, she knew something was amiss. Leliana never looked like that unless something was seriously wrong. In fact, the last time she'd seen her with such an expression clouding her face was when she told Leliana Anthony was dead.

Oh no.

That was it—what made Leliana look so wilted and mournful. Someone had died. Her first panicked thought flew to Varric. No. Not him. Please not him. Her hands were a flurry of motion as she flung her headphones off and rushed to open the door, her face blanching to a milky white and her body beginning to shake with fear.

"Who?" She rasped, barely containing the uncertainty and sorrow that was threatening to drown her.

Leliana motioned to a chair in the booth. "You should sit… in fact, we both should."

"Fine," was all Cassandra managed to get out, the word clawing its way up her throat. She lowered herself down into the chair, trying desperately to calm the sea of emotions rolling within, not really registering that Leliana had pulled up the spare seat until she was directly in front of her.

"It's Dorothea. There… was an accident." Leliana's hands weaved themselves around Cassandra's palm, a lifeline holding fast to a survivor in a storm.

Varric was alive. Cassandra took solace in that. But what of Dorothea? Was she hurt badly?

Leliana's face hardened drastically. "I know you don't like it when people pussyfoot around, so I'm just going to come out and tell you. She's dead."

Shock sucked the air from her. Dorothea was dead? How could something happen like this to someone so undeserving? Cassandra steeled her emotions. "How?—and don't spare the details Leliana. I want to know everything."

"She was hit on the passenger side by an oncoming car, forcing her car into a traffic pole."

Cassandra's hands tugged themselves out of Leliana's grasp to scrub at her face, trying to scour away the tears which were running down her cheeks. It wasn't fair. Of all the people who could have—should have—died, why did the Maker choose her? She owed everything to Dorothea. If she hadn't seen her potential, Cassandra could honestly say she would have no idea where she would have ended up. Dorothea had been a blessing in disguise, and now she was gone.

Cassandra's faith wavered like the flame of a candle in that moment. Why did the Maker have to take her like that? Didn't Dorothea deserve the right to die in her bed at the ripe old age of ninety instead of the atrocity that had befallen her? What was so important that He needed to take her in such a way? It didn't seem right, but then again, who was she to judge? If the Maker needed her, then this must have been all part of His plan, regardless of how horrific and dismal the situation appeared right now. Cassandra didn't much like it, but she needed to keep faith that it was meant to be.

She swallowed thickly and let out a scratchy groan, attempting to regain her composure. "And what of the person who did this? Has he been detained?"

"Ah—well," Leliana averted her gaze and fiddled with a loose string on her sleeve, "I was informed that they fled the scene."

Cassandra gasped, horrified. "What?!"

Cassandra saw Leliana notably flinch at her outburst and as if to cover her tracks, she quickly added, "But! The authorities assure me that they couldn't have gotten far and should have them in custody very soon."

Cassandra felt hot rage, even in the incandescent light of the booth. "You mean to tell me they left the scene without an iota of concern for the person they had just harmed?!" In an instant she was standing, body thrumming with anger while her fists tightened in on themselves, knuckles white with strain.

"Now Cassandra," Leliana started, placing a gentle hand on either side of her arm to try and calm her, "there is nothing we can do right now. Just have faith that this person will be caught and convicted. That's all we can do."

Cassandra sneered. "Really, that's all we can do, is have faith that he will be caught? You've got to be joking Leliana. Look what happened to Anthony. You must see why I can't just 'have faith' that the police will miraculously catch the person who did this. Anthony was a cop, for the Maker's sake, and they still haven't found all of the people responsible for his death."

"Please, Cassandra, don't do anything rash. Look," Leliana stepped back to give Cassandra some space, "give them 48 hours. That's all I ask. Then, if they haven't found the person responsible and you still feel the need to take maters into your own hands, I won't stop you."

"Fine. 48 hours and no more," Cassandra said, scowling something fiercely and pushing past Leliana. She opened the door to the booth with more strength than needed, and let it slam shut on her way out.

~TtS~

"Oh Sweetheart, I'm so sorry to hear that happened. Are you alright? Do you want me to come over?" Varric's concerned voice flowed through the receiver.

Cassandra caught herself. She would normally say she was fine, even though she wasn't. But this was her lover. He of all people had the potential to understand her sorrow, especially since he also had watched someone close be taken from him.

"Yes," Cassandra managed, her voice unusually quiet.

"Alright, I'll be over in fifteen."

"See you soon my love."

"See you soon. And in case I haven't said it today, I love you."

"I love you too."

~TtS~

Varric made it over to Cassandra's house in record time, and soon found himself at her door with some flowers. He was hoping that in some small way it would help ease the pain of losing her friend.

His knuckles rapped against the hard wood of the door, a deep hollow sound announcing his arrival. Moments later, the brass knob turned and Cassandra's wary face stared back at him.

She gave him a tired smile. "Hello."

"Hey. How you holding up?" Varric's eyes searched her face, worriedly.

Cassandra stepped aside. "As well as can be expected. Come in."

Varric moved across the threshold and placed the items down on the table by the door. He turned back to her, instantly pulling her close to him, hands wrapping tight around her waist. Her breath came out in shaky sighs against his hair as they stood there in silence. He knew she wasn't handling this well, regardless of how things appeared.

"It's going to be alright Cass. They'll find that nug-humping bastard and put him behind bars. Dorothea will have her justice. Now, you go sit on the couch and I'll be right back. I'm just going to put the flowers in the kitchen and then I'll make us some tea."

She nodded against his shoulder.

"And after, I'll even run a bath for you, how does that sound?"

He felt her breath tickle his ear. "Thank you," She whispered before moving slowly to to curl up on the couch, pulling up the red throw around herself like a shield.

After the tea was brewed, Varric slipped back into the living room finding Cassandra staring off into space, the red throw accentuating how sallow she had become. Had she eaten anything, he wondered. Taking a guess, she hadn't.

The cup made a dull thud against the coffee table as he placed it down on the hard wood. "You hungry?"

"What?" Cassandra started at Varric's question, his words pulling her out of her own thoughts with a jolt.

"Have you eaten anything today?"

Realization rippled over her features. "Well, no…but I can assure you I'm fine. I'm not hungry."

Varric frowned at her admission. "That's not the point. I know you. I can tell you haven't eaten for most of the day, Cass. That's not good."

"What does it matter? Like I said, I'm not hungry." Cassandra snapped at him.

"I'm not buying it," Varric said calmly as he took the throw from her. "I'll order us something while you're in the bath. That way it will be here for you when you get out of the tub. Sound good?"

He watched the irritation flare in her eyes for a moment before she relented and nodded silently, her raven hair falling gracefully across her brow.

Well, at least she's not openly arguing. I'll take the nod over that any day.

Varric held out his hands to her. "Lets get that bath started, shall we?"

Varric was met with an eye roll and another groan, but Cassandra complied. "Fine," she said with an exasperated sigh, as he pulled her up onto her feet. Dropping one of her hands, he gently led her toward the bathroom, the cups of hot tea all but forgotten.

~TtS~

Varric was right. She did feel better after getting into the bath. Tendrils of steam rose up and wrapped around her like a hug. The near-scalding heat was working its magic too—easing the grief and strain from her body as she soaked. Cassandra shut her eyes and sighed, sinking lower down into the suds.

Of all the things that could happen, she never expected it to turn out this way. Dorothea's life had been brutally

been taken by some—no doubt—scum of a person and now the fate of the radio station hung in the balance. Moreover, what would happen to her job? Suppose the station was to be sold and bought by new owners who didn't like the type of programming that it currently had? All of the blood, sweat and tears to become a successful radio host would have been for nothing. And she honestly couldn't think of moving to another station—it would feel like being unfaithful to her friend. Over the years, and through plenty of occasions, she had had a chance to schmooze with other radio show hosts and station owners. None held the same degree of sophistication or rapport that Dorothea had.

A meow floated above the bubbling soap and Cassandra looked up to see Cailan perched on the toilet seat, and grooming one of his front paws. She smiled at the majestic beast of a cat sitting so regally until Varric came plodding in to hand her the forgotten tea. He shooed him off of the toilet seat lid, and sat in Cailan's place.

Cassandra observed Varric silently. She could tell he was thinking about something by the way his brow furrowed and the tight grip on his mug as he took a sip.

"What are you thinking about, my love?"

Varric turned at her voice. "Well..." he started, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, "Honestly, I'm just curious about what happens now."

Cassandra looked questioningly at him. "How do you mean?"

"Don't be mad—I'm not trying to be insensitive here, it's just my practical head over-thinking things I'm sure, but... look, I may not know a lot, but I know the radio biz. The old girl didn't have any family clear at hand to inherit her holdings, right?"

Cassandra frowned. "Where is this going, Varric?"

Varric let out an impatient sigh and raked a hand through his hair. "Look, it means that under all the show of mourning, the upper echelon of the station are probably running around like the sky just ripped open and started raining green light and demons out of its ass. They'll need direction now that Dorothea's gone—a new direction that you could be part of," Varric imparted to her, his eyes bright with insistence, urging her to see the logic in

the situation. "The reality is, you and I have no clue what the committee has lined up for the hosts and general staff. For all we know, they could sack half of them and bring in people that they deem more suitable to their tastes. Show them that you want to stay and are a vital part of that station... if not for yourself, for Dorothea's sake. She'd want you to, and you know it."

No matter how upset she was, Varric did have a point.

Cassandra relented. "You're right. Dorothea would have wanted that for me... but what if they decide to change the entire outlook of the station to something I do not agree with? How could I stay if it contends with my own convictions?"

Varric gave a short chuckle before standing. "You've always been the sort not to take things lying down, Cass. I'm sure you'll figure something out." She watched him rise from his perch, walk over to her and stop, and squeeze her arm. As a final reassurance, he left her with a kiss to the top of her head and took his leave, the soft click of the door sounding behind him. Cassandra began to stare blankly at the bathroom wall, alone with her thoughts once again.

~TtS~

The rain came down heavy and hard, nearly drowning out the Pastor's voice and soaking into every corner of Varric's coat as they stood in the middle of the cemetery among what must be the old girl's friends, work colleagues, and family. Of course, he could have just asked for his umbrella back, but he wasn't that heartless—Cass and Leliana needed it more than he did. He snuck a glance to the side. They were huddled together, Leliana dabbing at her eyes and nose with a tissue and Cass stone-faced, white-knuckling the handle of the umbrella as if she were afraid it would vanish into thin air. To anyone else she looked unmoved by the whole event, but he knew the truth. He had seen first-hand how hard she had been taking it.

Inconspicuously, he reached for her free hand and gave it a squeeze. He was met with a stiff smile and the feeling of pressure being reciprocated upon his own hand. Seconds later, her reddened, chilled hand dropped back to her side.

"...The light shall lead her safely through the paths of this world, and onto the next. For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water. As the moth sees light and goes toward flame, she should see fire and go towards light. The Veil holds no uncertainty for her, and she will know no fear of death, for the Maker shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation and her sword." The thick, Starkheaven accent of the pastor rolled over Varric. It was a somber but reassuring sound, he noted, and hoped it would feel just as reassuring to Cassandra and Leliana in their time of need.

Thick drops of rain splashed upon the casket and dripped down the honeyed wood, disappearing into the depths of the dug-out hole below. Even the world seemed to be crying for the loss of Dorothea, it seemed. Too right it should. From what Cassandra had said about her, Dorothea was a gem who always saw the potential in people. She also wasn't afraid to tell someone the truth when they most needed it either. Come to think of it, Hawke was pretty much the same; he was always there to help you realize what you were capable of, but smart enough to tell you where to shove it if things got out of hand.

Up until he had met Hawke, he'd just assumed that what everyone else said about him was true, to some extent. They'd roll their eyes and sneer as they'd pass by him, taking him for nothing more than an egotistical ass. For years, he had ignored it and continued on, not caring about what they said. But, at his lowest point, after Bianca broke his heart—he started to believe it. Then, he met Hawke and all that changed. Through their budding friendship, he saw that Hawke believed him to be an all-around decent guy. Much more to his surprise, Varric actually tried to live up to Hawke's expectations. Sure, the mask of sarcastic egotism was still there, but Varric now saw it for what it really was—skin deep. It did not make up all of who he was, but only part of it. Through Hawke's help, he started to understand that he was inherently good, no matter what mask he chose to let the world see.

As icy rivulets of water snuck under his collar, he realized that that sarcastic asshole part of him was starting to crack and crumble. Ever since that fated meeting at the Herald's Rest, he had seen a change within his own closely-guarded persona, and Cassandra was the catalyst. The things he used to care greatly about no longer seemed worth his time. The gambling, the parties, the thrill of going live on the radio—none of them seemed to intrigue him like they used to. All he really seemed to care about was the woman standing next to him, who was currently putting her own grief aside to console her friend. Not because it was convenient, but because it was the right thing to do. And he'd be damnneddamned if it wasn't the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

In that moment, he came to the realization that Hawke was the one who had shown him that he didn't always have to be selfish and shallow—but Cassandra, dearest Cassandra had been the one to show him what real love was. And not just because of her striking beauty or the way she made him feel. Not when he'd wake up feeling her arms snake around his torso in the middle of the night, or the way she made him laugh for being too stuck on himself. It was because of this simple act that lay before him. The act in which this woman, a woman who normally would like nothing more than to take quick and deadly action against the guilty party, instead offered tissues to her best friend while wrapping her arm comfortingly around her. The unexpected gentleness that Cassandra exhibited simply blew him away. Not only that, but it was doing funny things to his heart as he watched her show such kindness, knowing in his heart of hearts she'd do it for him too, just because she loved him.

And by the ancestors, he loved her back. There it was, plain and simple. Cassandra had shown him just how wrong he had been to think that love was selfish and unequal, no matter what the situation. Love could be equal and maybe, just maybe, he could allow himself to show her that he was the man she thought him to be.

Movement suddenly flashed in the corner of Varric's eye, dragging him away from his thoughts. He watched Leliana bend over and lay a single red rose upon the casket. When she stepped back, he heard her stifle a sob in the crumpled tissue she gripped in her hand. Cassandra's arm squeezed Leliana's bicep, pulling her close, into her shoulder. His heart broke for them both. They had just lost a trusted friend and mentor, and here he stood, feeling like a helpless dope. But what could he do? It wasn't as if he could change what had happened, no matter how much he wished he could. But maybe it was simpler than that. Maybe he didn't have to move mountains for them...maybe all he needed to do was show them he cared, and he was there to listen if they needed it.

Dorothea was finally laid to rest.

The three of them stood there for what seemed an eternity, staring at the gaping hole as it swallowed up the casket. People began to disperse in small groups, two or three black figures at a time, walking through the orange tree leaves and the green of the cemetery grass, until finally, they were the only ones left standing at the grave site.

Varric cleared his throat. "Hey, I don't suppose you ladies would like to get out of this rain and have some coffee at my place? Save us having to watch the grave diggers finish their work..."

Cassandra shot daggers at him with her eyes. Perhaps that wasn't the best choice of words.

Leliana sniffed. "Varric is right," she said, dabbing at her running eyes and nose. "I would rather prefer to get out of this dreadful rain and have some coffee at his place, than watch her be laid to rest."

"Alright. I'll help you to the car," Cassandra sighed out, still holding onto Leliana like a stone belfry holding up a wilted flower.

Varric turned and watched them for a few moments as they plodded towards his vehicle. Then, sauntering down after them—sopping wet and feeling like a drowned cat—he watched Cassandra embrace Leliana, wrapping her arms protectively around her. Cassandra then opened the door for her grieving friend, allowing her her enough time to look back at the grave one last time. With a slight nod, Leliana finally got in and Cassandra shut the door behind her. The black umbrella, which was still clasped tight in her fingers, had cast a dark shadow over her face as her exotic features arranged themselves in an expression of inner thought.

Varric's hand came to gently rest on her elbow. "You sure you're alright? It's okay to let it out, you know. I'm sure Leliana won't judge you for it, and neither will I."

She turned and looked at him, startled by his seemingly sudden appearance. "I'm fine, my love. Besides, I believe Leliana has done enough crying for us both today," she said, her features changing like quicksilver into a fleeting smile. "Oh," Cassandra exclaimed after a few moments of silence, "I also wanted to thank you for coming. It means a lot to me to have you here."

A melancholy smile spread across his lips. "Any time," he conceded, taking both her hands in his, "that's a promise, by the way. You can always count on me, you know that, right?"

Cassandra gave a silent nod in agreement.

"Good. Now, shall we go warm ourselves up?" Varric questioned as he opened the front passenger door for her.

Cassandra shivered. "Yes, lets. It's much too cold to be standing out here talking. Besides, you look like you're in need of some dry clothes."

"Ha! That noticeable, huh?" Varric smirked and shut the door, feeling a shudder rise and travel like lightning up his back. "I just hope that I don't end up sick because of this," he muttered to himself as an afterthought, rounding the back of the car. Varric opened the driver's side door of Bianca and slipped in, wiping droplets of rainwater from his slick face. In no time, the car had defrosted, and they slowly made their way back to the busy streets of Skyhold, the cemetery and Dorothea's burial a memory, a lingering vice planted fresh their minds.