She woke up aching, sore, her head throbbing and her muscles stiff. Even her tongue felt wooden and clumsy as she stirred in a bed hard as wood. Her immediate thought, before she recalled anything else, was that she really needed to stop drinking.

Then someone began to cough, a deep, rattling cough speaking of illness and suffering. Maria opened her eyes, alarmed, stared up at the gray brick ceiling far above her.

"Shh." Cole whispered, and she felt his fingers curl around hers. "It's okay. They brought you back because it hurt you, but you're okay now."

Maker, she never thought she'd wish the worst thing she had to deal with was Dwyka and a hangover.

She propped herself up on one elbow. Cole was holding her hand calmly, pale eyes steady while she took in their location. Curtains separated wherever she was from another room. She suspected there were more little sectioned off cubicles just like this one, all housing the ill and injured. She was on a stiff cot, little better than a board, with a scratchy woolen blanket thrown over her and something ridiculously soft underneath her head. She reached for it unconsciously and withdrew the Seeker's scarf, the rich soft cotton no longer blood stained. In the same movement, she saw Cassandra herself propped into a nearby chair, head dipped and arms crossed, long legs stretched out as far as she was able.

"She worried you wouldn't wake up." Cole supplied. "They all worried."

"Guess that would ruin their plans, huh?" She asked, pulling away from Cole and stretching slowly against the dull ache in her muscles.

"Yes." Cole admitted, propping his chin in his hands. "But that's not why they worry."

The curtain twitched and Solas appeared as if by magic, his long pointed shadow in the dim light both reassuring and calming. "You're awake."

"Nothing gets past you, does it?" She asked with a small laugh. She couldn't see Solas smiling, but she felt it.

"How do you feel?"

Claustrophobic, honestly. She could hear the seething mass of refugees and a part of her conjured them pressing against her, crowding her, hands on her skin and pleas burying her. "I could use some fresh air."

"I will accompany you." Solas offered gallantly while he offered her his arm. "But I fear we won't be able to go far."

"I can make it." She protested, swinging her sore legs out of the cot and standing, steady despite the tremors rocking her muscles.

"That is not the issue. I suspect if we attempt to leave the perimeter, the soldiers on guard will rouse the Seeker." Solas advised neutrally.

"She does have outrageously long legs, so I guess outrunning her isn't an option." Maria continued, rubbing her head to try and ease the ache inside her temples. "I am very good at hiding though."

"I do not doubt it." Solas remarked dryly. He hadn't moved his elbow and she relented finally, allowing him to steer her out of the makeshift emergency room cubby they shoved her into. She was a bit amused to find out that the one right next to her was occupied by one snoring dwarf, his mouth hanging wide open as he laid on an identical damn uncomfortable cot. The curtain hung wide open and she fought the urge to toss a pillow at Varric Tethras just for the fun of it (and for asking so many damn questions, if she was being honest with herself.)

"Is he hurt?" She asked instead.

"Hardly." Solas sniffed.

"They were fighting." Cole inclined his head back at the other cubicle where Seeker Pentaghast still slept. "Her fault for using you. His for needing rescued. But neither of them are to blame, so Solas separated them."

"Mister Tethras very much wanted to stay with you, but the Seeker accused him of leering." Solas stated without any semblance of emotion.

Varric didn't leer, Maria knew leering. Varric certainly appreciated, though, and well… there wasn't anything wrong with that. She'd almost forgotten how it felt to be wanted by someone who didn't feel like a damn threat.

"Glad to know someone's watching out for my maidenly virtue, I guess."

"But you're not…"

"Thank you Cole." Maria interrupted before that could go any further. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her coat instead and indicated the entrance with a tilt of her head. "Take me outside before I lose my damn mind."

Although, honestly, she hadn't completely discounted the thought that maybe she already had. Neither Cole or Solas protested her plan. Cole fell in beside her and Solas immediately took the lead, moving through the quiet, mostly sleeping crowd. There was a path marked by neon yellow tape, but Solas didn't even look at it.

"Thank you!"

Before Maria could examine the source of the noise, stick thin arms wrapped around her from the side and tugged her into a bruising embrace. It was the child, the one she'd given sweets to, although it took Maria a moment to recognize her. Before Maria could say anything else, the girl beamed up in the dim light. "Mom's here! With us! They said you made the road safe and… thank you!"

Maria chanced a confused look pleading for clarification to Solas. He cleared his throat with a small smile before he spoke. "As soon as you sealed the crack and we returned you to safety, buses and soldiers were sent to evacuate the remaining civilians. I am told that if you had not acted, the situation within the cut-off areas would have been fatal within days."

"Oh." It was a stupid thing to say, but it was the only thing she could think of. She couldn't help smiling back at the kid squeezing her waist. "I hardly did anything, kid."

"It was your choice, was it not?" Solas asked pointedly. "And you who took the risk?"

"Thank you." The girl whispered again before stepping back. "I just… thank you."

She could feel herself blushing, but before she could make her tongue say anything else the girl vanished. Maria took the opportunity to glare at Solas. "I didn't do anything."

"You were instrumental in the rescue of nearly one hundred people from starvation, illness, and violent death." Solas reasoned.

"I passed out on top of Varric." She thought she remembered that, anyway. She'd found herself on top of him, his bulk solid beneath her, his heart hammering from adrenaline so hard she could feel it in her fingertips. She remembered the dizziness, the throbbing in her head, the crimson stain of blood on her skin and…

Yeah, her imagination was good, but definitely not good enough to conjure up exactly the way Varric's breath hitched when she gripped his shirt in a fruitless attempt to stop from keeling over.

"Yes." Solas suddenly looked grieved, his eyes heavy with loss. "Yes. You did."

By the time they made it outside, they'd lost Cole. He'd turn up, eventually, so Maria didn't worry. It occurred to her that she may have more important things to worry about. The soldiers gave them a respectful wide berth as they sat under emergency flood lights, ones that drowned out the stars above them. In the distance, far away but close enough to still be concerning, Maria thought she heard gunfire.

There was one question she needed to ask, one she may never get the courage to face head on again. But here, in this formerly idyllic little town ravaged by war… well, if she was dying here, she certainly wasn't alone. Lots of people died there, lots of people would die before the war was over.

Still, she couldn't form the question. Instead, she fell back on stating the obvious. She was beginning to understand why Cassandra favored that tactic. "I'm not alright."

"Currently, you are stable." Solas repeated as if afraid to face the alternative. Maria pushed.

"Was I stable a couple hours ago?"

Solas frowned and stared into the boarded up windows of the house across the street from the train station. Then he let out a long sigh. "No." He admitted. "I fear that using whatever magic you now have to close the crack cost you."

What did it cost her? Would they find in a couple weeks her heart was failing? Her liver? Maybe it would be like that flesh eating bacteria she saw on the news and she'd find that the magic ate its way through her very skin. Would she end up with cancer, the same way her grandmother did? Would it start the same way - a cough that lingered for months before the chest pain started?

"So, my chances of walking away at the end of all this… fifty-fifty?" She guessed, judging my Solas's dour expression.

"I confess I am uncertain." Solas tightened his fist around that damn jawbone. "That you survived at all is miraculous. Your body will either adjust to the power that surges through you or it will fail."

"Do you think I'll survive?" She almost whispered the question into the night, couldn't meet Solas's eyes when she asked. She focused instead on the powerlines swaying in the breeze above them. A pair of sneakers, knotted together, hung from them. She wondered if the person they belonged to wished they still had their running shoes.

"I do not believe you will."

She let out a breath she didn't even know she'd been holding, bowed her head to her chest and clenched her hands into fists inside her jacket pockets. It was like a tangible blow, one that made her eyes water and her chest hurt.

She didn't want to die, not yet, not now.

She didn't expect Solas to continue talking, his voice shocked her when he began again. "Even if you do not die of the power coursing through your veins, you have been thrust into a dangerous game full of demons, power-mad despots, and magic. Perhaps they will shoot you in battle, or burn you as they did the witches of old. You may even sacrifice yourself to erase the vortex, I do not know. I know only that I intend to help you survive for as long as I can. I do not believe you should perish because you ran to an old woman's aid."

His words rocked her to the core. "You're going to try and save me?"

"Yes." Solas declared. "I am, and I doubt I will be the only one. Perhaps that is enough."

She almost confessed that the last person that tried to save her died for his effort, but she choked on the words and the flood of tears they nearly always brought. Instead, she lapsed into a heavy, awkward silence broken only by the muffled conversation of soldiers and the sounds of the great mass of humanity inside the train station.

"What would you do if I told you that this place was once nothing more than fields and forest? Bears made their home here and the Avaar tribes fought great, bloody battles."

"I'd call bullshit." Maria admitted, staring down at her shiny new boots. At least slowly dying had its perks, she guessed.

'I've seen that in the fade." Solas continued seriously. "I saw an Avaar ritual to marry two youths. The first needed to prove his dedication to her betrothed. The only way to do so was to hunt and vanquish the largest of the bears in the forest and lay the pelt at the feet of her intended. She tricked the bear into the lake, where the mud caused it to sink and stick. She felt sorry to have killed it, for it was a noble beast."

In spite of herself, she was taken in. "Did you really see that?"

"Yes." Solas smiled. "I can tell you another story of what I have seen, if you wish. Perhaps it will help you forget the uncertainties of life. I am afraid I am no Varric Tethras, but…"

She suspected if Varric started to tell her a long, drawn out story he wouldn't get very far before she was interrupting him by demanding he put that sinfully rich voice and clever mouth to better use. This was much safer.

"Alright, Solas." Maria leaned against the cold bricks of the train station. "Tell me your best stories."

xx

Varric's protesting, aching back woke him up when the light streaming in from the skylights was still watery and dim. He blinked several times, trying to place where he was and why it felt like he slept on a concrete slab. The events of the previous day rushed back all at once and made him swing his wooden limbs from the cot with several muttered curses. He popped his earpiece back in his ear.

"Bianca." He yawned, rubbing the back of his neck. "Anything important?"

"Your request for the sealed records from Hercinia v. Maria Cadash has been denied. The city sent an official statement stating that they are denying all requests in this matter." Bianca alerted him gently. "You've got a text message from an unknown number, but it appears to be from Isabela."

"Is it dirty?" Varric asked with a chuckle.

"It would be considered pornographic under several statutes. She states she has taken Kitten into her care."

Oh, that was some of the best news he could hear to start his morning. He hadn't really been worried about the rest of them, Aveline was a one-woman battering ram, Hawke had Broody, Sunshine had Choir Boy, and Rivaini did fine on her own but Daisy… yeah, he always fucking worried about Daisy. Knowing she was with Rivaini was enough to make him grin.

"Your publisher also sent an email that you're behind schedule. Again."

And just like that, good mood ruined. "Her red pen getting antsy?" He grumbled, tugging on his boots before whipping the curtain open. The crowd milling in the train station was still a quiet murmuring crowd, but in the bright dawn light, he could almost sense something… different.

Something he started to sense the night before when those buses pulled up with the first bunch of rescued refugees, when relatives caught sight of those missing and thought dead.

Hope.

He turned to the next alcove and paused, stunned at the sight. Along the bottom of the canvas were a few small, insignificant items. A bundle of wildflowers tied with a ripped piece of cloth, a packet of cookies, a drawing of a landscape with a note in the corner saying thank you, and several homemade cards made with nothing more than torn notebook paper and pen.

Offerings for their Herald, he thought. Hawke had been injured in the fight that saw her named Champion and the offerings they left outside her mansion came up to Varric's chest. Those had been showier, bouquets of roses and wreaths, photos and candles.

These people had nothing, but they felt the need to give Maria something. Anything.

He moved some of the gifts and opened the curtain, eyes falling first on the Seeker slumped in the chair she insisted he vacate the night before, then on the empty cot beside her.

Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

"Seeker!" Varric shouted. Cassandra stirred, eyes opening blearily and taking in his form before she muttered something in a foreign tongue, then one word.

"What?"

"Where's Cadash?" Varric asked, gesturing expansively to the empty cot. "Out for a walk?"

Cassandra's expression flitted from emotion to emotion within seconds. First, complete and utter irritation, then stunned disbelief, before finally settling into a mask of concerned aggravation. "She is not with you?"

"Despite me leering, as you so nicely put it, I'm not the type of man to take advantage of an injured woman." Varric continued the aggrieved tone he'd been using last night. He also thought, privately, these cots were nowhere near big enough for the kind of bedroom activities he preferred.

Cassandra leapt out of the chair and into action, leaving Varric to follow in her wake as she scattered refugees and aid workers in every direction. Finally, she pinned Vale with her eyes and motioned him over. "Where is she?" Cassandra demanded.

"Who?" Vale asked, one arm wrapped around a box of medicine, the other holding a bottle of water. Varric watched Cassandra battle the urge to take the water bottle and beat him with it.

"The Herald." Cassandra muttered through clenched teeth.

"Ah… I didn't know… were we supposed to be watching her?" Vale asked.

"Hey!"

Varric recognized that voice and turned to his very favorite reporter with a grin. Harding had appropriated a small space and had two laptops set up, her camera in between them and her hair piled into a messy bun on her head. She looked up and jerked her thumb over her shoulder. "That strange kid went outside with a ball of twine and a sheet ages ago. You're… you're looking out for him right?"

"Thanks, Harding." Varric winked in her direction and the dwarf flushed crimson in spite of herself. He watched the woman drop her eyes down to her laptops with a concerted effort. It was good to know that he hadn't lost all his considerable charm, even if he was being bested at every turn by Maria Cadash.

Varric didn't know who made the little tent out of nothing more than twine pulled between two street signs and a large, white sheet, but Varric was impressed. Daisy herself couldn't have done better, and he was even remarkably sure this little setup had nothing to do with blood magic, always an open question mark with Merrill.

In the opening at the end, he could see tell-tell apple red hair resting on her arm curled beneath her head. Something that had been tensed inside him relaxed immediately at the sight. He hadn't realized he'd assumed the worst until that moment, but she was fine. Solas sat beside the makeshift tent, legs crossed, face turned up to the dawn in meditation.

"Why is she out here?" Cassandra demanded, her own posture easing only slightly. Solas opened one eye disapprovingly.

"She is allowed to venture outside." Solas reprimanded, closing his eyes again.

"It is a war zone!" Cassandra protested.

"Cole remained awake in case danger arose." Solas answered calmly.

"Did you sleep in the tent too, Chuckles?" Varric teased.

To the elf's credit, he didn't color. "For a few hours."

In that small, semi-enclosed space with the very tempting body of Maria Cadash right beside him. Varric didn't know whether to pity the elf or give in to a surge of good-natured jealousy. Varric dropped down into a crouch beside the opening to the tent and lightly prodded Maria's shoulder. "Up and at 'em, Princess."

Her lashes fluttered against her cheeks before she opened those stunning eyes and met his with a look both utterly relaxed and vaguely questioning. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips and she opened that pretty mouth to say one word. "Varric?"

Good-natured jealousy it was, then, because the sound of that sultry, sleep rough voice saying his name sent a lance of heat straight through him. "That's me, beautiful. I know the cot was rough, but I can't imagine the ground is much better."

Maria yawned and buried her face into her arm, making a muffled noise of protest against waking. She mumbled something into her jacket and Varric tipped his head to the side, grinning.

"They don't have any." Cole's voice rang from the opposite end of the tent. "I looked everywhere, I'm sorry."

Maria groaned in despair, raising her eyes back to his and blinking them slowly. "Coffee." She mumbled, rubbing at her eyes. "The things I would do for a cup of coffee."

Depending on those things, Varric thought he could find coffee somewhere.

Maria's hand reached into the pocket of her jacket as she rolled onto her back, brought the phone he gave her to her face and peered at the blinking screen. She swiped her finger across it and frowned at the notification, scrolling down several long messages interspersed with photos.

"Is the Seeker out there?" Maria asked, suddenly alert.

"I am here." Cassandra went to drop by the entrance of the tent, but Maria had already rolled to her knees and pushed away from the flattened grass. She held her phone up with a questioning eyebrow.

"Leliana wants us to go look for someone? She said you told her no."

"I did." Cassandra stiffened. "I do not wish to traipse through this area with you."

"Why not?" Maria demanded, taking Varric's offered hand and allowing him to help her stand. She seemed… fine. Her eyes danced with life, her skin felt warm, and there wasn't any trace of blood on her face. It was almost enough to make him forget that she'd passed out in the first place.

Almost.

"You are valuable." Cassandra argued. Maria bristled in response.

"Everyone is valuable." Solas smiled at Maria's stern response, continuing to keep his eyes closed. "She says she's worried about an old friend, she's hoping this guy knows what happened to her and he's nearby."

"You were hurt." Cassandra frowned at the remembered memory. "We must return you to safety before…"

"I'm fine now." Maria pointed out. "I want to go find this Gordon Blackwall person. She says he's a Warden, you know how weird and mystic those people are. Maybe they can help with that thing..." She gestured impotently to the vortex in the distance.

"I will not take you." Cassandra glared down at the small dwarf. Maria paused, thoughtfully staring up at the Seeker before she grinned.

"Fine, I'll go myself."

Bluff called. Varric chuckled as Maria grabbed her bag from the ground and slipped it over her shoulder. "C'mon Cole."

"You cannot!" Cassandra protested in distress.

"I will accompany you as well." Solas rose gracefully from his seat.

"Count me and Bianca in, Princess." Varric winked and tapped his earpiece. "We hate to be left out."

"Good." Maria smirked down at her phone. "I think I owe you a turn locked in the damn car."

Well, he could be convinced to let that happen, particularly if it involved that crooked little lilt to her lips.

Cassandra capitulated grudgingly rather than consent to let Maria peel off on her own. That's how they ended up scoping out abandoned cabins in the damn mountains outside the little town.

"Andraste's ass." Varric huffed after he tripped after another damn tree root walking from one charmingly derelict cabin to the next. "All this nature is making me itchy."

"I have benadryl if you require it." The Seeker muttered darkly. Varric sent her a roguish grin over his shoulder.

"If I didn't know better, Seeker, I'd say you'd prefer me unconscious."

"There is more than one way to render you such, dwarf."

"I have several favorite ways if you're interested…"

Maria laughed from in front of them and Solas sighed wearily while Cassandra turned an interesting shade of crimson.

"I don't understand." Cole muttered at Maria's elbow. She patted it affectionately and smiled up at him.

"Maybe when you're older, kid." She promised, turning her attention back to the scenery around them. At least she seemed to be enjoying herself with the wide-eyed curiosity of someone who hadn't spent that much time in the great outdoors. Varric wasn't the only one who lived in the city his whole life, but at least he'd been dragged out of it throughout his childhood. He wondered if Maria Cadash even saw beyond city parks. She looked good out here, wild and free, the dappled sunlight turning her hair to fire.

Before Varric could think any more about that, his nice, expensive boots sunk into the mud and he swore loudly. He was just building up steam for a proper fit of bitching when Solas shushed him and pointed through the trees.

Far enough away to still be indistinct, a man sat with his back to them at the edge of a pier. He had a fishing rod in his hand and a rifle laying, casually, beside him. The entire scene screamed set-up to Varric (who took their rifle out with them fishing?), but for who, Varric didn't know.

Before he could express reservations, before any of them could even sit or plan or talk about how they'd approach the weird loner on the dock, Maria broke through the tree line with practiced casualness, hips swaying as she waltzed right into danger.

"Gordon Blackwall?" She called cheerfully, as if the man didn't have a rifle, as if they weren't in the middle of a war zone.

The man jerked, hand flying to the rifle beside him immediately although he didn't raise it, didn't drop his fishing pole. Instead, he looked over his shoulder and pinned Maria with an expression torn between disbelief and annoyance. "Who are you, how do you know my name, and what are you doing out here?" He demanded.

Maria held out her hands expansively, showing that they were empty, her weapon holstered at her hip. She stepped out onto the docks, the rest of them trailing behind her anxiously. Whatever tension lingered in the air, Maria either didn't feel it or seemed intent on recklessly ignoring it. Her eyes lingered on the man in front of her, amused, curious. She took in his salt and pepper hair, his beard, the flannel rolled up to reveal brawny arms dusted with dark hair.

"I have some questions about the Grey Wardens." That smoky, teasing edge danced on Maria's voice and suddenly, Varric knew exactly what she was doing.

The same moment he realized it was definitely going to work because you'd have to be as stone cold as Solas to not picture that voice in a bedroom saying all sorts of other, filthy things. The man dragged his eyes from hers, settled on her lips, chanced a glance over her sinful figure then surged back upwards, helpless.

A fish on a hook, and she didn't even need a rod.

"Movement detected at three o'clock." Bianca chimed in his ear. "Satellite image suggests weaponry."

"Princess, might want to wrap this up quick." Varric muttered. Torn from her concentration on the man in front of them, Maria scowled over her shoulder in their general direction. That scowl clearly said one couldn't rush these things.

And if she hadn't turned to look at them, the red sighting dot that landed on her cheek may have flashed over her eyes, given her the time she needed to react. As it was, everything happened in slow motion. The red sighting dot trembled on her pale skin while she remained blissfully unaware. He heard Cassandra's sharp intake of breath, but there wasn't enough time, the rest of them still stood at the edge of the dock, and the only person close enough to…

The sound of the gunshot echoed.

Before anyone could say anything else, before they could react, Blackwall moved. He'd seen what Maria hadn't, knocked her to the dock with a clatter and a sharp gasp as he knelt above her. The bullet whizzed harmlessly by and plopped further into the lake. For one breathless moment, Blackwall's face hovered over Maria's stunned one.

"Help or get out." Blackwall ordered, grabbing his rifle.