Anders aimed straight for his quarters as soon as he returned to Skyhold, even after one of the soldiers in the main hall helpfully informed him that his advisors were meeting in the War Room with Hawke. Boldly shirking his duties, he headed for the stairs without looking back. He would deal with the consequences later; compared with the consequences they would all be facing soon, this little act of rebellion would be only a small disappointment.

He knew he was being childish, but he'd had his fill of being a mature adult for the day. Rejection was horrible no matter which side of the equation you were on, and while he hadn't had a lot of experience with either side, he was less familiar with pushing people away. The only times he had ever really done it had been because of Justice, and never when he felt as conflicted about the situation as he did now. He had always craved touch more than most people, and he'd gone without contact for long enough that he literally ached for the comfort Dorian had so freely offered. But it was a bad idea on multiple levels, and with the reckoning he knew was coming he couldn't give in to Dorian now without feeling like he was using him.

Trudging up the last few steps and shrugging out of his coat as he went, Anders had one boot untied and off his foot before he noticed that he wasn't alone. Letting the boot fall, Anders gaped at the dwarf sitting at his desk, his feet propped up on the surface and a book splayed open over his lap.

Looking up when he noticed him, Varric snapped his book shut. "There you are," he said with false cheer. "Thought I might have to finish this awful book before you finally showed up. I mean, I knew dwarven poetry was bad, but this is downright criminal."

"What do you want?" Anders demanded gruffly, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

"A chance to talk."

Varric was the last person he wanted to talk to right now, but the look in the dwarf's eye made it obvious that he didn't have a choice in the matter. Sitting down on the edge of the couch, he tugged roughly at the laces of his other boot and yanked it off his foot with such force that it flew out of his hands and landed on the floor with a resounding thud.

"Rough day?" Varric asked innocently.

"I don't want to talk about it." Leaning back, Anders rested his head on the back of on the couch and stared up at the ceiling.

"I take it things went badly with Sparkler's family?"

Anders wasn't surprised that Varric knew the details of his trip. He and Dorian had discussed it in the middle of the library, after all, where there were plenty of people around to overhear every word if they chose to listen, and Varric was incredibly good at finding out information—especially the kind he wasn't supposed to know.

"I have to admit," Varric continued when Anders remained silent, "I was surprised when I heard about your little trip. I mean, I've had my suspicions about you and Sparkler for a while now, but I didn't expect you to have gotten that serious already. First you're meeting the parents. Next you'll be proposing."

Grinding his teeth, Anders tried to ignore Varric's attempts to provoke him. He doubted that Varric would have been so cruel if he had even an inkling of what had really happened in Redcliffe. He was simply trying to get a reaction using every means at his disposal. He must have been angry. He never resorted to such cheap tactics unless he was angry.

"As much as I love the sound of my own voice, this is starting to get tedious, Blondie. Don't you have anything to say?"

"No."

Varric sighed. "You know, back in Kirkwall I used to blame your moodiness entirely on Justice, but this is just part of your personality, isn't it? You can be just as broody as Broody when you want to be."

Wincing, Anders couldn't help but recall the way he had let his anger rule him when talking to Dorian's father. It seemed that he had allowed Justice to take the blame for a lot of things that were ultimately his own fault.

"I assume you heard that Hawke made it back."

Anders remained silent, and eventually Varric continued speaking.

"Now that she's confirmed the wardens are at Adamant, we'll probably be taking off for the Western Approach soon. That must be a relief for you."

Lowering his chin just enough to look at Varric through slitted eyes, Anders asked, "Why's that?"

"Oh, I don't know. It just seems like the perfect place to set your plan in motion."

Anders shook his head, too weary to play this game anymore. "What plan?"

"The one where you take advantage of the chaos to run away so that the Venatori can't use your past against the Inquisition."

"Oh," Anders said dryly, not entirely surprised that Varric had noticed his strange behavior and made some educated guesses about the cause. "That plan. How could I have forgotten?"

"Isn't that how it goes? Or maybe you were planning something more dramatic? Maybe you don't plan to make it out of Adamant at all. One wrong step, a shield dropped at the wrong moment, a wound left to fester. Any of those would do the job, wouldn't they?"

"Varric," Anders said past the lump in his throat, hating how close Varric had gotten to the truth. In fact, Varric seemed to have given the whole thing more thought than Anders had allowed himself; he'd had ideas swimming around in the back of his mind since the Western Approach, but he'd avoided thinking about them directly after his conversation with Cullen, keeping himself busy and distracted while he waited for the right opportunity to present itself.

"You don't intend to still be around by the time the Venatori reveal your identity, do you?" Varric asked bluntly, his anger now obvious in his voice.

Sighing, Anders stared up at the ceiling through blurred vision. "I'm a danger as long as I'm still around. I don't know what else to do."

Varric slammed a hand against the desk hard enough for Anders to jump. "You can start by trusting your friends. Dammit, Blondie, I thought you'd learned that lesson the last time. We're all in this together, and your decisions affect everyone. You can't just decide to sacrifice yourself without consequences."

"Can't you see that there will be consequences either way?" Anders countered, his own voice rising in anger. "I'd rather pay for them myself than let everyone else suffer because of them."

"And can't you see that these consequences aren't entirely of your own making?" Standing up, Varric circled the desk and approached him with deliberate steps. "Since you joined the Inquisition, you have done nothing but good. You've saved far more innocent lives than you destroyed in Kirkwall and put your own life on the line again and again. Yes, your past mistakes are probably going to come back and haunt us, but that isn't your fault. You didn't decide to use a false name. You didn't volunteer to be the Inquisitor. You never pretended to be anything other than who you are, faults and all. They knew about your past when they chose you, and they did it anyway. They brought this on themselves."

Anders stared at him, his mouth opening and closing in shock. He'd honestly never thought of it that way. He'd gotten so good at accepting the blame that he'd never considered the possibility that this particular situation wasn't entirely his fault.

"What do you think would happen if you jumped off a cliff tomorrow?" Varric continued, now standing directly in front of him. "Do you actually think the Venatori would hesitate to reveal your secret just because you're dead? They won't. The truth will make the Inquisition look like liars and hypocrites whether you're around or not, but your death would take away our only chance to prove them wrong."

Again Varric's perspective caught him off guard, and he shivered when he saw the truth in it. There was no way to undo his role within the Inquisition at this point, and the consequences wouldn't change much whether he was alive or dead. Some people might see him as a martyr if he died for the cause, but many more might simply see him as a coward. That wouldn't help anyone.

Folding a leg beneath him, Varric sat down next to Anders on the couch, propping himself up with an elbow against the back. "I hate to break it to you, Blondie, but there's no easy way out of this one."

"I wasn't looking for an easy way out," Anders protested with his last scrap of defiance.

"I believe that much, at least," Varric said wryly. "You never have done things the easy way."

Groaning, Anders leaned forward and buried his face in his hands, feeling like a complete fool. He nearly whimpered when he felt Varric place a hand against his back in reassurance, even that innocent touch enough to make him crave more. Dorian's kiss had only made him painfully aware of how long he'd been alone, how isolated he'd become. He realized with a sinking feeling that his reasons for pushing Dorian away were no longer entirely valid, but maybe it was for the best anyway. He was good at hurting people despite his best intentions, and he was already having enough trouble living up to everyone's expectations without giving in to those particular needs—needs that he knew from experience would be endlessly distracting once he indulged them. Regardless, he wasn't looking for pleasure right now as much as he was seeking comfort; he simply wanted to be held, to feel safe and protected, to know that he wasn't alone. Looking up at Varric, he tried communicate with his eyes what he needed, and as usual Varric got the message.

Smiling faintly and shaking his head, Varric said, "Come here," and spread his arms wide.

Anders took a shaky breath, resting his head on one broad shoulder while Varric's arms wrapped around his back and pulled him close. Varric was reassuringly solid, warm and smelled faintly of leather and ink, a combination that was strangely comforting. Relaxing into the embrace, Anders settled into the crook of his neck and sighed when he felt Varric brush a hand over his hair.

"The Inquisition will survive, Blondie," Varric murmured soothingly. "And so will you."

Author's note: Anders just needed a hug! Don't we all, sometimes? I know many of you were worried about what Anders would do after the last chapter. At least Varric got to him first.