Varric never wanted to call bullshit more in his life. Sparkler's story was the kind of shit his editor would skin him alive for even trying to pass off as decent plot. The one thing stopping him from dismissing the whole thing as a weird, magic induced psychedelic trip was the fact that the two of them looked like they'd been through hell. Dorian's burns and bruises were bad enough to make the witch healer they pressed into service turn white, but Maria had looked even worse before she ran off into void knew where.

Dorian was also skipping a hell of a lot of details and Varric knew it, but he wasn't going to be the one to prod. They got sent to a nightmarish future full of demons and blood magic, fought their way up to the thirteenth floor, then came careening back into the present. All nicely tied up with a bow, if that's the way Dorian and Maria wanted it.

But Varric was definitely not going to be the one to tell Curly they lost the Herald of Andraste, let alone break the news to Bea Cadash. Even Tiny looked distressed about the possibility of making that phone call. For the sake of their physical safety, they simply had to find her.

And if Varric's stomach wouldn't stop forming new ulcers until he had her back in his sight, safe and sound… Well, that was a whole other problem he needed to deal with. After they saw to Maria.

"Check the security footage from the gates again." He ordered the AI in his ear tersely. Bianca swore that nobody had left the city of Redcliffe, but that didn't make any sense because they'd all combed the city twice. She'd been missing for damn near an hour while they chased their tails. The rest of the team continued to search but Varric returned to the hotel, intent on digging through security footage until he...

The sharp, unexpected tug on his ear sent him cursing, swatting at the ball of feathers trying to steal his earring, again. Nyx cawed angrily and pecked the tender skin behind his ear sharply. "Sparkler, I swear on my ancestors if you don't…"

The only response from Dorian was a snore. The man, drained of mana, had been left to sleep in one of the lobby chairs in the hotel. He'd been dead to the world since. Varric glared at his form, considered tossing a copper into his open mouth, then turned his impatient ire onto the bird. "I don't have any damn crackers for you and I'm not giving you my earring."

The bird perched on the hotel check-in desk, puffed itself up indignantly, and then tossed something from it's clawed feet onto the counter. Varric shuffled closer, identifying the shiny thing as a button. It took him another second to recognize the shiny brass circle.

It was a button from Maria's coat.

The bird chirped what sounded almost like an irritated "finally", launching itself into the air and circling Varric's head once, twice before shooting off down one of the hallways. Varric looked after it for only a moment before he snatched the button off the counter and abandoned the lobby and Sparkler. He followed the bird to a door marked fire escape, one with a rather pronounced bloody handprint on the doorknob, fingers just the right size to be Maria's.

He could smack himself. No wonder they couldn't find her in town, there was a rather large chance she'd never left the hotel at all.

He shoved the door open and the bird swooped into the stairwell, circling high up above his head. Varric stared at the steps rising in endless flights above him and tried not to sound dismayed. "The elevator wasn't an option?"

The bird's answering cry sounded a bit like bright peals of laughter. Varric sighed and reminded himself he needed the cardio, tackling the steps as quickly as he could.

By the time he made it to the twelfth floor, he was about ready to say Maria could just stay wherever she'd found herself. But he followed the bloody handprints and the bird out of the stairwell and into the hallway. About halfway down there was another door, this one smeared with blood. It stood, normal enough, but someone had picked the lock. It was such a hack job, done clearly in haste, Varric was nearly certain the door would never open properly again. The good news, he thought grimly as he pulled the handle, was they could definitely blame all the property damage on Magisters. He hoped the hotel had good damn insurance.

The steps above him led up to slate gray sky, the sun high above them but doing very little to spread any warmth. Nyx shot past him, launched herself into the sky above. Varric followed her flight, the steps ending abruptly and opening up into the concrete roof. He swept his eyes quickly across his surroundings, taking in the water tanks, the backup generator, a satellite perched precariously and…

Maria.

He would have missed her, but her hair stood out like a flag. She had collapsed against the low wall surrounding the roof, but dwarven stature meant she was hidden underneath it. She had her knees pulled up to her chest, both arms curled around them and her face buried against her thighs. She shook, either from the cold or dry sobs Varric didn't know, but she was here and alive.

For a second, she'd been gone. The smoke cleared, and she'd been gone.

His first thought, crystal clear even among the panic and dread, had been that he'd never get the chance to pull her flush against him, never feel her lips under his, never hear his name in her mouth or tell her…

Then she was back. She came back, covered in gore, looking more feral than he'd ever seen her, but she came back to them, to him, like a fucking miracle.

He could see her right wrist was swollen twice the size it should have been and there was a whiff of smoke in the air around her. The right shoulder of her jacket hung in tatters, but it looked like the deep, brutal cuts underneath it stopped bleeding. She needed looked at by a professional, probably more urgently than Dorian had, but he didn't think there was any immediate danger.

Something inside him warned him not to run to her, not to drop down to his knees beside her no matter how much his gut screamed at him to. Instead, he held his ground by the stairs and pitched his voice low. "Hey, Princess. We thought you slipped out the back."

Varric watched her arms tighten around her knees. She rocked slightly and Varric swallowed the urge to lunge again. Cautiously, he moved forward, making sure his footfalls echoed on the concrete so she could track his location. He stopped, closer, but still more than a human's arm length from her. The smell of smoke was stronger here, but beyond the wrist and the slashes, she seemed sturdy as ever. "Dorian told us what happened."

He sunk to his knees, watching her carefully. She didn't flinch away from him, at least. Small steps. He continued, voice gentle and steady. "It's over. You're not there, Maria. You're back with us, in Redcliffe. If you looked up over this wall, you'd probably see the Seeker stalking around looking for you. Go ahead and breathe, beautiful. It's over now, I promise."

He settled back, content to wait. This, this he could handle. It was nothing but panic, nothing but fear and trauma. This wasn't magic, this wasn't crazy, this was just a brain firing off synapses trying to make sense of all this bullshit. "We can stay up here as long as you want. Look up, tell me where we are."

Maria hesitated, but he watched as she unfurled just enough to bring her eyes to his. They were rimmed in red, mascara and eyeliner black around them, a suspicious bruise beginning to show on her temple. Varric held her eyes and waited, patiently.

"Redcliffe." She echoed, finally. "The thirteenth floor."

Her voice sounded harsh, the voice of a woman who'd been on a cold roof crying for a solid hour. Even as she looked at him, he saw her try and blink the tears out of her slate eyes. The same color as the sky above them. Varric looked around, raised an eyebrow pointedly. "Well, I don't think we can say this is the thirteenth floor any longer. I think when you broke the watch, this just became the roof again."

"Good." Maria spat the word, the satisfaction venomous as it dripped from her lips. "Then it can't ever happen."

There she was, his fighter still. And she was right, wasn't she? Whatever they'd seen, whatever they'd gone through, she'd stopped it. Just like she stopped the vortex from spilling demons on their head, just like she'd turned the crowd against the Lord Seeker in Val Royeaux.

Varric thought if she could survive this, she may just be capable of anything. The thought humbled him. "You're right." He agreed, "It can't. So, what do you need Princess? Glass of water? Tylenol?"

Somebody to set that damn wrist again, he nearly offered. He caught himself just in time, watching as her shoulders stilled. Maria watched him with those piercing eyes, wary and disbelieving. She opened her mouth, closed it again before she could say a word.

"Anything you want, Maria." Varric offered softly. "Anything at all, I'll make it happen."

"Keep talking." Her voice cracked on the last word and she closed her eyes quickly, swallowing down something that almost bubbled to her lips. "Just keep talking."

That he could do. He took a deep breath, blew it out in a gust and let his eyes slide up to the sky above them. Nyx circled, lazily, and Varric started in on the story.

"Did I ever tell you my editor used to be in the Kirkwall coterie?"

xx

Music drifted from past the door. Something with a low, rolling beat. One that settled in her stomach, pulsed brightly in her fingertips. She paused, momentarily disoriented by it. Her body, apparently, had forgotten music was even a thing. But it was, music meant home, music meant Bea, and…

Bea died. In the explosion.

No, she corrected herself, fingers tightening on the doorknob. No, she hadn't. That future was gone, gone like the Rolex watch, gone the way of her sanity. Maria closed her eyes, focused on the cold metal beneath her fingertips, tried to take a deep breath.

Above her, she felt Bull still. She knew he was watching, knew he'd been watching since Varric coaxed her off the roof, since Solas stood angrily over the healer they pressed into service knitting up her wounds and bones, since Cassandra shoved her in an SUV back to Haven. Bull insisted on staying with her, insisted on squeezing into the SUV too. He didn't say a word except to quietly rumble, every so often, where they were. Like he could keep her with him, in the present, by reminding her that they were leaving Redcliffe.

If she ever went back there again, it would be to burn it to the ground.

With that thought, she pushed the door open. The music, uncomfortably loud, continued to play. Everything looked exactly the same as when she'd left that morning, from the neat stack of dishes drying by the sink to Bea's jacket tossed carelessly over the back of an armchair.

Everything was the same. She was the one that was different.

"It's a nice place, isn't it?" Bull asked mildly, ducking in and closing the door behind them. Bea wasn't here, though. The music was on, but Bea wasn't…

Panic clawed up her throat and Maria darted to the steps despite her protesting muscles, despite the scar tissue that wasn't old enough not to stretch uncomfortably as she flew up the stairs, into the bedroom.

She stopped just inside the loft, looking at the bed. Bea was wrapped up in the sheets, her dark curls spread over the pillows. Beside her, spread as wide as a starfish, Sera's bottom half was the only thing covered. The gangly elf was bare as the day she was born from the waist up, snoring contently.

A knot inside Maria loosened. In fact, a hysterical giggle formed in her chest, one that nearly erupted from her lips. Of course Bea was spending her time alone to seduce members of the Inquisition, it was so like her, so…

Tears stung her eyes and Maria couldn't fight the urge to move forward. She settled the blanket over Sera for modesty's sake, quietly as she could. Then she moved to Bea, laying one blood spattered hand over her sister's soft hair. Bea didn't shift, she continued to sleep soundly, chest rising and falling with breath.

Alive. Alive and completely herself. The room smelled of sex and smoke, the good kind, and Maria could weep with the joy of it.

"I'm sorry." Maria whispered, her hands shaking as she pulled them away, afraid of waking her sleeping sister. Tears rolled down her cheeks, unbidden.

"Boss." Bull called quietly from the stairs. "You don't have anything to apologize for."

That wasn't true and Bull knew it. Maria had a million things to apologize for. But Bull's heavy arm curled around her shoulders, guided her away from the bed. "C'mon, let's get you in the shower before they wake up and you scare the piss out of them."

Bea was safe. For now, at least. But she wouldn't be safe, not really, not as long as Dwyka was out there. Not as long as Bea followed Maria from disaster to disaster. When Bull's foot hit the bottom stair, Maria craned her neck to look up at him. "Dwyka sent me here."

"Yeah. He's the kind of asshole that would send you into a fucking war zone to make a buck." Bull growled, although his grip on her didn't tighten. "I didn't think you choose to dive into this mess for a second."

She should have shot Dwyka that night. She should have fucking shot him, but she couldn't tell Bull that because he was a lawyer, and even if he was hers, there were things he couldn't know. Things he could never know.

Bull guided her into the bathroom, his enormous bulk crowding the small room. If Maria was any larger, he'd have to stand in the hallway. Instead, he squeezed himself into the counter next to the chintzy decorative towels and reached over her head to flip on the light. "Right. Anything in your pockets?"

She emptied them mechanically. Her phone in the left one, with new notifications of emails and messages popping up every minute. She hadn't looked at any of them, so she sat it face down on the counter to ignore the blinking light. There were some bullets in that pocket too, and she dumped them on the counter, watched some roll into the sink. Her hand sunk into her right pocket and she flinched.

"Boss?" Bull asked, his one eye catching the movement. Her fingers had closed over the card in her pocket, and she thought she was going to be sick.

It's not cursed.

His voice was so real, so vibrant, she could believe she was there. In that stairwell, the Champion of Kirkwall burning, Varric's heartbroken eyes on her and his clever, careful fingers slipping the card into her pocket.

It may not be, but she was. She pulled her fingers from her pocket like she'd been burned, clutched the porcelain counter instead until her muscles ached. Bull calmly took over, reaching to undo the zipper on her ruined coat, easing it from her sore shoulders.

She caught his eye with hers in the mirror. Her reflection looked ghastly, even as Bull pulled away the bloody coat. There was blood in her hair, dried rivulets down her arm, soot streaking her face.

The blood on the coat was hers. Hers and Varric's, she thought. And Bull had heard this story before, he knew it. He knew what happened to the men who stepped into her orbit. Either they became monsters, or they got destroyed by them. There was no other way. "Varric died." She admitted quietly. "He died to save me."

She'd said that to him before, but it had been Fynn's name then, and a younger woman staring dead-eyed back at him. Bull sighed, dropping the coat directly into the rubbish bin. Maria didn't bother trying to remove the card still in the pocket.

"That's not shocking if you're paying attention, Boss." Bull advised, reaching over her to turn the shower on. "But that's tomorrow's problem. Let's deal with the rest of today first."

xx

Varric was glad they sent Maria on ahead, particularly when the rest of their little caravan rolled back in at damn near three in the morning. Varric massaged his own neck while he listened to Cassandra shout orders at the new witch refugees they'd just taken in.

Ideally, there would have been more time to evacuate them out of the town. Unfortunately, the people there had a rather distinct gleam in their eyes, one that clearly spelled violence for any witches refusing to leave. Luckily, Fiona saw sense at last. He could see the woman emerging from a borrowed bus, holding the hands of two children on either side of her.

Just what they needed, Varric thought grimly, more innocent people under the vortex. Sweet Andraste, he hoped they managed to close it. He hoped she managed to close it. No pressure, but they needed the win.

"Is this all of them?" Blackwall yelled in the darkness. Someone else shouted an affirmative.

"Bianca, baby." He began smoothly, pulling out his phone. "Can you pull up that list of housing arrangements Ruffles sent and divy it up among our people? See if we can't get these kids in bed before dawn."

"I am able to do so for all of the team except for…"

"Chuckles." Varric groaned, rubbing his face briskly. Damnit, he was going to get the man a phone if he needed to shove it up the elf's ass.

"How can I help?"

The voice was so similar to Maria's that for a moment, in the pitch black night, he thought it was her. It wouldn't shock him if she was up and about already. But the dwarven woman in front of him stood differently, arms folded across her chest rather than shoved in her pockets.

"Mittens?" Varric asked, astonished, and frankly mildly alarmed. Either something was wrong or…

"Call me that one more time, I dare you." She tossed her hair back, Cole's hat jammed on top of her head to keep her ears from freezing off. "What can I do to help, asshole?"

The elf beside her, clearly Sera, snickered and blew a loud, rude raspberry. Varric laughed in spite of himself, shaking his head. "We won't turn it down. We need someone to help Blackwall, he's got the youngest kids, and Solas needs a partner because he's tech challenged."

"Shite, not dealin' with elven glory. You're it." Sera planted a sloppy, nearly obscene kiss on Bea's head before sauntering away towards Blackwall. Varric wasn't certain that leaving her in charge of children was the best idea, but…

"How's Maria?" He asked, unable to help himself. Bea shrugged, her eyes focused somewhere over Varric's shoulder.

"She's not saying much. She never does." She muttered darkly. "She's asleep now. I left Cole with her. Not sure where Bull went, thought he was trying to clear out some of the houses."

Quick as lightning, her eyes darted back to his, pierced him. "Bull says you saved her life."

Varric blinked, temporarily stunned, but Bea continued talking, eyes sliding down to her boots in the slush covered street. "And you're still a fucking asshole, you know, but if that's true… if you saved her then…"

Emotion choked Bea's voice and she shrugged under the weight of it. "She's my sister. She's all I have left. So, thanks."

Varric was almost touched, but mostly confused. "I didn't do anything, swear on my dwarven honor."

Bea huffed, a bright, brief mocking laugh. "Fine. Right. Dwarven honor." She shoved past him towards Chuckles, sending a grin with a wicked edge over her shoulder. "You don't have to play the modest hero with me, Tethras. I'm not the sister you're trying to sweet talk into your bed."

"Somehow, I don't think sweet talk would work with you." He muttered under his breath, ignoring the jibe. "Bianca, sent Chuckles's part of the list to Mittens. Let her sort it out."

The AI beeped an affirmative and Varric rubbed his face briskly again. He needed some coffee, immediately. Instead of going in search of it, he turned to the buses and vans. He took two steps before someone raced up behind him.

"Serah." A soldier stopped, bending to pluck something out of the snow. She held it out to Varric pinched between two fingers. "Did you drop this?"

He could barely make out the writing on the card in the glare of the headlights, the swarm of people casting dark shadows everywhere. When he finally figured it out, he couldn't help but laugh.

The Lovers had found him. Again.

"Thanks." Varric said dryly, taking it from the woman as she marched past. He shook his head, exasperation warring with something wistful.

He could have lost her. He could have missed his chance.

"Alright Hawke." He whispered to himself. "You win."

xx

Maria woke up choking on flames. In her dreams, the fire was full of demons, of monsters. They reached out for her with greedy, grasping fingers and she couldn't breathe, she couldn't breathe. They were screaming for her in the smoke, begging her to save them. Fynn, Bea, her grandmother, Bull, Cole, Hawke, Dorian, Cassandra, Leliana, Varric, and she couldn't reach them. She couldn't find them. Her skin curled into ash and she was burning, burning…

She woke up with Varric's name stuck in her throat, the sheet plastered to her sweat soaked skin. The early dawn light filtered through the window and she clutched at the quilt over top of her, fingers twisting it so hard she thought she'd rip it.

They were going to have to go find another set of clean sheets because these ones smelled of fear and dread.

"I should have been with you." Cole's voice, too gentle and quiet to truly startle her, drifted from the edge of the bed. "They hurt you."

She swallowed, but her voice still sounded raspy when she answered. "I'm fine."

"Not where everyone can't see." Cole pulled a string from the quilt and frowned at it, wrapping it around his skinny fingers. "It isn't real. Not anymore."

"It was." She felt the tears at the corners of her eyes, but they didn't fall. She cried when Bull put her in the shower, cried and sobbed until the water went cold. But she hadn't cried since.

It was real. It was real the same way all of it had been real. Fynn's hands over hers at his piano, Nanna coughing blood into the sink, Bea sitting, steely eyed, while the tattooist traced Dwyka's ink onto her skin and Dwyka smirked, jerking Maria back against him. Varric's eyes going dark, his hand reaching out for her. Real. Real, real, real…

Cole's hand brushed the hair from her forehead and she allowed her eyes to shut once more. "You made it go away. Salt in your tears to banish demons, rage to choke them, your heart is heavy and you are tied to the ground. They can't move mountains like you. Not anymore."

She got dressed, because that was a thing she could do. She didn't bother with makeup, even though she looked too pale. She found Bea collapsed on the couch downstairs, still dressed, and draped a blanket over her before she left the house.

The town was achingly quiet, even for so early. She looked to Cole for an explanation.

"The kids were tired. Scared. Let them sleep. Let them dream." He answered cryptically. Well, it was as good an explanation as any. She trudged through the fresh snow to the Chantry, past the guards that saluted her smartly. She tried to smile at them, although she felt sure it came as more of a grimace than anything.

The only voice inside the old wooden building was Leliana's, her Orlesian accent becoming thicker as she berated someone. A young man rushed past Maria as she followed the noise, entering Leliana's sanctum.

The screens were black, all except one. It showed a massacre, bodies everywhere. Dwarves, mostly. Some, Maria thought she knew. She paused, letting her eyes examine them critically. Yes, she thought coldly. She knew them. Dwyka's crew.

"I knew you'd be here soon." Leliana hunched over a keyboard, her head in her hands. "I… I must apologize. You did exactly as you promised, delivered beyond our wildest dreams in Redcliffe despite the danger, and yet…"

"What happened?" Maria's voice was calm, numb. She knew what the answer would be before Leliana even said it.

"We were betrayed. An agent, one of my oldest…" Leliana swallowed her distress, turned to meet Maria's eyes. "Dwyka was aware of our plot. He slipped the net."

She wasn't surprised. She also didn't know whether to blame Dwyka's dumb luck or her shittier version of the same thing. She stared at Leliana's face, beautiful and smooth, free of scars and open wounds.

Leliana died for her. Bea, Cassandra, Hawke, Varric. All dead, for her. Because of fucking Dwyka and him sending her here. And he was free, and worse, he had to know. Had to know that she had asked for this to be done.

"It's alright." Maria's voice still felt eerily calm. And, truly, it was alright. It was, perhaps, better this way. Nobody else would get in the way, nobody else would get hurt. She knew what she'd do.

She knew who would help her.

"When can we close the vortex?" She asked instead, her brain whirling. She needed to think, she needed to plan, she needed to keep them safe. She would, this time. She'd do better. She promised herself she would.