(AN: So, in accordance with a gentleman's agreement betwixt two FF writers, I'm churning out a quick chapter before I leave town for a conference next week, hope you enjoy!)

Varric was staring into the glowing coals in his fireplace, and was worried. He had followed Carver back to the Hanged Man to calm him down, which wasn't very difficult. All it took was two pints of ale and Isabella to lean forward on the table to give Junior a nice view and the younger Hawke was a happy camper.

Then Kitty Hawke and her boyfriend Michael didn't show up. He sent word to her uncle's house and the Viscount's Keep in case they were side-tracked by an errand, but neither Gamlen nor Aveline had seen any sight of them. He didn't turn around when he heard the door to his suite open.

"Andraste's Tits, Norah, I said I don't want to be bothered!"

Worrying about his wisecracking rogue friend had made his temper uncharacteristically short as well. Then he heard a familiar voice giggling.

"Oh come on Varric, is that anyway to greet your new business partner?"

Varric turned in his chair. There was Kitty Hawke, and Ser Westen, both looking no worse for the wear.

"By the Paragons, Hawke, where have you been? I've been worried sick."

Kitty looked over to the ex-spy, who have a faint nod of approval.

"Well, we were kidnapped by Ser Thrask to help out with a little mage problem. Nothing Michael and I couldn't handle."

She looked over.

"Although I'm thankful he had is mechanical crossbow wotsit, because whatever comes out of it mages are very vulnerable to it."

Varric sat enthralled by Hawke's story as she unfolded what happened on the Wounded Coast. Finally when she was done he picked up his tankard of ale and stared into it.

"I knew Ser Thrask wasn't your standard fanatical Templar but I never figured him to actually risk his neck to save mage's lives."

He took a sip.

"Good on him, remind me to buy him another beer when he's in the Hanged Man."

The dwarf set down his drink and reached into his coat pocket.

"Speaking of your family's mansion…"

Hawke smiled.

"But I never said anything about the Amell Estate."

Varric grinned as he produced a small key.

"Yes you did, just now. Anyways, my contact in the Coterie was able to procure a skeleton key that will get you into the mansion. There's a door in Darktown that will take you to the mansion's cellar."

He pulled out a hand-drawn map.

"The location of the vault where your grandfather's will is stashed is a bit dodgy, since the contact wasn't clear on the details."

The redheaded rogue shrugged.

"You mean there isn't just some magic beacon I can follow that will lead me to it?"

The dwarf chuckled.

"No, Hawke, although it wouldn't surprise me."

Michael was nursing his second pint of ale and thinking. By his reckoning he had been in this bizarre medieval world of magic for at least a week, although it seemed like longer. He closed his eyes and tried to visualize things from his life in Miami. He was having trouble remembering. Even banal things like the color of his favorite chair in the loft, the name of the bar he, Sam and Fi would meet up and plan their next mission, it was like sand slipping through his fingers. He was forgetting. He even tried to picture his friends, Sam was easy he thought, but now that he visualized the ex-Navy SEAL he kept coming up with Varric with a larger chin and wearing a Hawaiian shirt.

Fi was even worse, every memory he had of his ex-IRA girlfriend with the penchant for explosives had the face of Kitty Hawke, and it was her fair-skinned body wearing one of Fi's sundresses or bathing suits. He shook his head and took another sip from his tankard. As he sipped the pungent brew he mused that either his taste buds were going south, or the person who brewed this batch of ale must have washed his hands before handling the mash. As he took another sip, Michael determined it must be the former. His musings were interrupted when someone sat next to him.

"There's my boy-toy, where have you been brooding off to?"

The burned spy turned to see Kitty smiling at him, her bright green eyes made even brighter by the ale she was drinking.

"And what makes you think I'm brooding, Kitty?"

The rogue giggled.

"Michael, it's written all over your face, you look like Broody over there when he found out the Tevinter slaver kidnapped his pet kitten and turned it into a darkspawn."

She paused for a moment.

"Well, he doesn't have a kitten, but if he did he'd make that same face your making now."

Hawke distorted her otherwise attractive features into an exaggerated scowl, pushing her lower lip out in the process. It was so ridiculous looking that Michael couldn't help but chuckle. Kitty took one of his hands in hers.

"Listen Michael, I know what it feels like to be alone and far from home. But you've got friends here who care about you."

She smiled coyly and brushed her shoulder against his.

"And you have me."

He returned her smile.

"Thanks Hawke, I appreciate it."

As soon as he said it he could feel the pinch on his arm. He glanced down at his forearm.

"You know I'm going to have permanent bruising if you keep that up."

Kitty smiled at him and stroked his cheek.

"Then it's very simple, Ser Michael Westen, you must always call me Kitty."

Michael returned her smile.

"All the time, even in certain situations?"

The rogue eyes twinkled and her smile became salacious.

"Oh, especially in those situations, Michael."

Michael took the hand that was stroking her cheek in his own.

"Thank you, Kitty, for being here."

Hawke said nothing, but leaned forward, running her fingers through his dark hair. She was about to close her eyes when she heard a sigh coming off to the side. When the rogue's head swiveled in the sound's original she frowned at the instigator leaning against the bar with a dreamy look on her face.

"Enjoying the view, Isabella?"

The dark-skinned pirate woman pushed off the bar and sauntered over to their table.

"Oh, don't mind me, I like watching. It's very…titillating."

Hawke stood up suddenly.

"Come along Michael, there's a little mission we need to accomplish."

Michael shook his head.

"Um, Kitty, these nocturnal adventures are starting to get old, couldn't we do it in the morning?"

The rogue shook her head.

"This one has to be done at night. Mother told me that her father's will is still locked up in the vault in our old family estate."
"So?"

"So, Uncle Gamlen maintains that Mother was written out of the will after she went off and married Father. I think there's more to it than that, and Grandfather's last will and testament will either prove or disprove it."

She held up the small key that Varric gave her.

"If we take the Darktown route to the estate, there probably won't be any guards in the lower areas of the estate. For all we know they could be sound asleep."

She looked over to the other companions who were occupied drinking and moved in closer.

"And, if the cellar is cozy enough, maybe we can finish what we started."

"Haw-er, Kitty, are you sure this is a good idea?"

The rogue paused in jiggering the lock with her skeleton key.

"Of course, Michael. Stop being such a worry-wart."

The burned spy looked over his shoulder again, his eyes darting to every suspicious sound and shadow in Darktown. Kitty Hawke was so adamant about going that he hadn't had time to recover his rifle or body armor from Varric's suite. All he had on his person was his SealTac knife and his P229 with 14 rounds of ammunition. If they ran across anyone short of a drunk stumbling on his way home they were in trouble.

His attention turned back to Kitty as locked door finally gave way. It creaked open to a darkened hallway. Michael cautiously followed the rogue inside, the hallway lead to a large room with a low ceiling, lit by flickering wrought-iron wall sconces. With the amount of dust on the floor and the number of cobwebs wafting in the doorway, there wasn't any sign of life. Hawke turned back to Michael.

"See, I told you nobody here."

Michael nodded, but then something seemed off. Something in the air was making the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. Instinctively he spun around and dodged just as an assassin appeared and tried to plunge two daggers into him. The burned spy grabbed both the assailant's wrists and used his forward momentum to bring him off balance and then tripped him. As the assassin pitched face forward on the stone floor Michael soundlessly plunged his SealTac into the base of the man's skull. The corpse shuddered and then lay still. Michael looked up at Hawke, who herself was looking a bit sheepish.

"Well, in fairness, he could have been a burglar."

Michael held his pistol on the ready, then without warning spun around and fired. A .40 caliber bullet tore punched through the mage's forehead just as he reappeared, leaving a messy exit wound that painted the stone and brick wall of the storeroom with wet red gore. The mage crumpled into a pile of limbs and robes in a heap. The ex-spy looked over to Hawke, who had just finished off the last assassin.

"You know Kitty, I'm getting really tired of these assassins and mages disappearing and reappearing at inconvenient moments."

He looked down at the mage's corpse and shook his head.

"I swear, the physics in this world are worse than a video game."

Hawke finished checking the dead assassin's pockets and stood up.

"Oh come on, if I ever came to your world I probably would be baffled by its tall towers of glass and metal carriages that move under their own power."

She walked over a nudged the mage's dead body with her boot.

"Did you check his pockets for loose coin?"

He shook his head. She giggle.

"Oh, Michael you'd make a terrible rogue, alright I'll do the looting. Check that stairwell and see where it goes."

Michael nodded, and carefully crept up the stairs, his P229 on the ready, checking every corner with each step he climbed. At the top of the stairwell was a large, heavy door. He checked the knob. It turned, but it was deadbolted, and he could see a large intricate lock just at eye level. The burned spy turned around only to see Kitty standing right in front of him. Michael suppressed a yelp, which caused the redhead to giggle again.

"Awfully jumpy, aren't we Michael."

She held up a large intricately wrought iron key.

"I found this on the dead mage's body. No coin to speak of though."

Michael jerked a thumb at the door.

"I think I know what it unlocks. At a guess I'd say this is the Vault."

The large door pushed open with a groan that Michael was sure could be heard throughout the entire estate, as his eyes adjusted to the relative brightness of the lighted room, he saw that it was lined with chests, lockboxes, cabinets and even urns brimming with documents and correspondence. He looked over to Kitty. The redheaded rogue looked like a kid in a candy store with a $1,000 limit gift card. He gently touched Kitty's elbow to jar her out of her avarice-induced coma.

"Kitty, that strongbox over there has your family's crest on it."

She looked over to an ornate redwood chest filigreed and trimmed in gold. Kitty reached into her pocket and pulled out her lockpick set. Gingerly she toyed with the chest's lock, while Michael stood watch at the door. Finally the lock gave way with a satisfying click, and the chest opened. The rogue quickly flipped through the documents inside the chest, before coming upon one with a red wax seal at the bottom. Kitty let out a triumphant squeal and held up it.

"This is it, Michael! This is Grandfather's will."

She smiled coyly at the ex-spy.

"And now that we have the place to ourselves, what you say we finish what we started last night?"

Michael returned her smile and holstered his pistol. He didn't even get a chance to get close to Kitty when she practically tackled him and pinned him to the floor, pressing her lips against his in a tight embrace. When he disengaged from her kiss he smiled at her, and leaned up to caress her soft cheek with his lips.

Kitty Hawke shuddered at the ex-spy's rough lips against her skin, she could feel the embers in her belly being stoked with each touch. As she turned her head to one side, the better to allow Michael access to the skin on her neck, her eyes caught sight of the will. Almost out of curiosity she caught a few words in it. Her eyes focused on one paragraph, and in an instant she understood.

"That lying wanker!"

She immediately stood up and snatched the will, stuffing it in the pocket of her leather breeches.

"Come along Michael, Uncle Gamlen has some explaining to do."

She rushed out of the vault, leaving a very perplexed ex-spy still lying on his back and wondering what the hell got into the redheaded rogue's head.

(AN: Hahahaha poor Michael Westen can't catch a break and still hasn't closed the deal with Kitty. Don't worry, they will get there, I promise before the Act I is over they will have done the deed, so to speak. In the meantime now she has Grandfather's will, and Uncle Gamlen has some explaining to do.)