A/N: Thank you all so much for reading and for the reviews. Things have been a bit up and down for me, but it really made my week hearing from you all and seeing that there were still people following this story, even through the hiatuses. I can't promise a more consistent update schedule, but I will be trying to update more frequently.

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Varric stumbled through the portal and nearly fell head first into Rivaini. He barely managed a watch out as he hurried to get as far away from that Maker-forsaken rift as he could.

Of course the biggest, ugliest, meanest demon had been hanging out next to the exit of the Fade. If Varric had to guess, the damned thing had figured out they'd be trying to get out and had chosen to simply wait beside the bait. Then, when they were taking too long-or just taking the precious memories it had stolen-it had drawn them to it.

They'd made a run for it after their spirit guide or whatever she had been had tried to distract it, cutting their way through mobs of demons in what felt like the most redundant fight of his life, and then…

"Where is Garrett?" Rivaini hissed, gripping his shoulders and shaking him from his thoughts.

Turning around, he paled when he saw Sparkler, Chuckles, and Hero scattered around that hateful green glow, all in different stages of recovering their composures.

"He was right behind me," Varric murmured, turning back toward the rift.

They'd been running when the world had lit up in another memory-or something like it. Varric hadn't seen one of those hazy light orbs that Finley had touched before, but then, he'd been preoccupied with making sure that Bianca was aimed and loaded.

They'd seen the room with Corypheus, the Divine, and...he couldn't be sure, but he thought he'd seen wardens. Grey Wardens.

Helping Corypheus.

They'd helped destroy the Conclave. The memory had ended with an explosion.

He called it a memory, though he couldn't help but wonder if perhaps it had been something else. Maybe a distraction? Maybe the demon had been trying to distract them with a lie.

Regardless, as he'd run, Hawke had been right beside him. He'd fallen back a bit when he'd cut down one of those fearlings. But the cut had been clean and there hadn't been anything else attacking him.

Had there?

Ancestor's hairy asses, he hadn't left Hawke in the Fade, had he?

Without thinking, Varric launched himself at the rift, only to stumble right through it and nearly into Hero.

Rivaini followed after him, Barkington beside her. The beast growled and turned in anxious circles as Rivaini cursed. "I've tried that, love. Every angle."

"They were right behind me," Varric repeated. His knees felt weak. Hawke, Alistair, and Stardust hadn't come through yet.

Chuckles stepped up to the rift, testing it with a hand and frowning. Even as he started summoning a spell and Sparkler suggested that they go back to where they actually fell in and see if they couldn't get back that way, the rift pulsed and a sharp burst of light blinded all of them.

As the flash faded from his eyes, Varric could make out a glowing figure stumbling away from the rift.

There was an agonizing second before the light finally faded away to show Alistair trying to regain his balance, much like the others, away from the Fade.

The world seemed to slow down. Every crackle and twist of fade magic felt like a damning eternity. The rift stood, open and ready, as those gathered around waited, breathless, hoping for two more friendly faces, but ready to fight anything else.

Like a giant...thing.

Maker's balls, the Nightmare couldn't come through, could it?

There was another spark. A flash.

A figure plummeted out of the rift, swelling as it hit the stone ground.

Before the light had even dimmed, a third figure darted forward-or rather looked like it was pushed by hands of light that disappeared almost as quickly as he thought he saw them. Like they'd been pulled away.

The third figure whirled around as quickly as it had appeared and raised its hand-her hand, clenching her fist and cutting off the connection to the Fade.

In an instant, Varric found himself standing in darkness, the night quickly taking claim to where the rift had been.

It took a few moments of blinking before his eyes adjusted to the dim torch light. In that time, the noises around him were as much a blur as the world, though he could hear barking and crying before anything else.

Looking toward where the first figure had fallen, he found Hawke, still sprawled out on the ground, with Rivaini straddling him and clutching him to her, kissing every inch of him that she could reach as she cried, cursing him for worrying her so.

Barkington kept throwing himself against Hawke as well, only to whirl away, tail stub wagging so hard that his whole rear swung about wildly and then throwing himself against Hawke again.

"You were too far away to grab," Rivaini hissed between kisses. "I tried to catch you, but then your damned dog had to go charging after you, and I nearly fell stopping him!"

Hawke twisted himself so that he could rope both beast and lady into a bear of a hug. "I was so afraid you were lost in the Fade somewhere. Solas said you weren't, but I...I was so afraid I'd lost you…"

Barkington let out an indignant ruff before slobbering all over Hawke and Rivaini, frantic to let Hawke know how much he'd been missed. Isabela leaned her head against Hawke's shoulder.

"You can't scare me like that. I thought...after everything, after our promises…"

"Like Varric would let me let you down," Hawke offered, lopsided grin taking over his face as he finally looked up at Varric.

Almost instantly, Rivaini pulled him into a hug with them. "I shouldn't have doubted you."

"You shouldn't have," Hawke assured her, before Varric could answer.

Even as he tried not to cry himself, a harsh voice interrupted the merriment.

Turning around, he found Sparkler and Hero were both at Stardust's sides, though she'd stepped away from them, ignoring the concerned looks they wore.

"The grey wardens must leave." Stardust nearly toppled over a moment before standing a little straighter, gaze sweeping around until it landed on Alistair. "This can't happen again. That thing nearly..." She caught herself, taking in a few shaky breaths before setting her jaw. "We can talk in private, but this...fortress, should be left to rot."

"We can still assist," Hero started to object, though he stopped himself when Stardust shot him a weary, angry look.

"I wouldn't-we will talk in private."

With that, she strode forward. Every few steps she looked a little like she might teeter or fall, but she never did, and the rest of their party fell behind her. Sparkler was the only one not to give her any distance, instead looping an arm around her when she teetered again and snapping something about how she could be brave later.

Regardless of his concern, she shooed him away.

Not that he dropped back far.

Looking back at Hawke, Varric shook his head.

"What happened?"

"I don't know," Hawke said, staring after the receding group. The remaining forces, Inquisition and Wardens alike, were trailing after the others, all but forgetting about Varric and his little reunion.

Hawke looked back at where the rift had been and shook his head. "I told her I'd buy her time. We need that anchor a lot more than we need…" He shrugged off what he was going to say before Rivaini or Varric could admonish him for such a thought. "But...something was there...that spirit maybe? It was different...I don't...quite..." His gaze fell to the ground. "Whatever it was that led us through the Fade, it got us out."

"That...spirit?" Varric asked. It had been a form of light for him, though he'd gathered that, like the demons, it had different appearances based on who was looking. He'd have to ask everyone what they saw later. "It saved you?"

"I don't quite...know. I…" Hawke shook his head. "I can't explain what I saw."

Silence settled over them.

Finally, Varric untangled himself from the hugfest and straightened out his tunic, pausing to inspect Bianca. There were a few gashes in her frame that would definitely need tending before he tried to use her again. Dammit.

"Varric."

When he looked up, Hawke was still on the ground, albeit sitting up as Barkington and Rivaini finally gave him space.

"Yeah?"

"When she-when Finley was talking using that spell." Hawke hesitated, abruptly glancing around to make sure that no one else was nearby. When he felt confident they were alone, he looked back at Varric. "Remember when I took the pendant to the mountain. Remember the old woman?"

"You mean the great Witch of the Wilds, Flemeth?" Varric asked. Despite being there and seeing the woman do...whatever it was she'd done, he still wasn't sure if he believed that she was the Flemeth of legend.

"I think..." He shook his head, finally rising to his feet. "I think Finley was talking to Flemeth."

Varric couldn't help but laugh at that. He took a step back, appraising his friend, waiting for the lopsided grin and the admittance of a joke.

Hawke's expression could have been stone.

"You think…" Varric glanced after Stardust, though she was already long gone. "You think our Stardust was in cahoots with the Witch of the Wilds." When Hawke didn't try to deny it, Varric shook his head. "I'm not saying it's impossible...I mean, with all the shit we've been through...all of it...but," Varric shook his head. "Finley doesn't even believe in witches."

Which is exactly what a paranoid witch would say, wasn't it?

He thought back to when she'd made the duplicate of herself out of leaves and her bird messages. To the way she was so mistrusting and her affinity with nature. She had adjusted roots in Skyhold, hadn't she?

And he'd heard about the spider-turned-toad that she'd known how to fix.

"I...that'd be...even if she was. How would we prove it?" he asked skeptically. And what would they do with that?

At that, Rivaini scoffed. She brushed some dust from Hawke's shoulder, unimpressed. "Why do you need to prove anything? Let her be. She's obviously on the good side." When Hawke looked ready to argue, Rivaini shot him a look. "People have secrets. So long as hers aren't hurting anyone, what does it matter?"

While she had a point, Varric had to admit-if only to himself-that he would definitely be pursuing this subject. How was greatly up for debate, but it would make for a fantastic sequel to the Champion of Kirkwall.

Assuming Stardust didn't turn him into a toad for writing it...

Regardless of any truth that might be to Hawke's theory, looking into it would have to wait. Wild speculation never helped anyone, and that aside, Varric was bone tired.

They needed rest after all they'd been through, all the time they'd spent in the Fade-it had felt like so long in the Fade, though according to Rivaini, they'd only been missing maybe half an hour.

That made him wonder about the first time Stardust had been in the Fade. How long had that been for her?

And what about those memories?

Assuming that those last images had been real, they'd seen up until the point of the explosion, but beyond that…

There was still a gap, wasn't there?

Would she ever be able to get that memory back?

And what of the Nightmare? Varric couldn't dream, but he knew they hadn't killed it and that meant it was still...out there.

In there?

Would it show up again? Get someone else to pull it through? Had they even actually stopped the demon army? The Fade didn't have a physical map like the real world, so couldn't the Nightmare just come through somewhere else?

Sure the Wardens weren't conjuring it now, but what about the Venatori?

Varric shook his head, forcing himself from his spiral and choosing instead to look around. The scars from the battle were everywhere, as well as the dead.

This had cost so many lives.

And if history repeated itself, Stardust might well close down, like she had when she'd seen all the dead around the Conclave, around Haven.

Would it ever end?

Varric suddenly wanted Stardust to be conniving. He wanted her to be plotting and scheming and less good of a person than she was. Less of a hero.

Heroes never got happy endings, and this...this was so far from over.

Varric and his small entourage were quiet on the way out of the fortress. Maybe it was Hawkes' theory, maybe it was just the weight of everything catching up with them, but there was no room for idle chatter as they made their way out of the carnage.

It was all just...too much.

Some beleaguered souls had already started gathering the dead, and despite the aching in his muscles, Varric found himself easily roped into helping.

He prefered helping the wardens, as every now and then with the Inquisition soldiers, he'd see a face he'd known.

There was a guy-little more than a kid, really-who'd liked to hang out around his table at Skyhold when he'd brought missives and the like for Leliana, for the fire. He'd always stand there warming his hands and comment on how he wished they had better fireplaces in the valley.

There were a few soldiers who usually patrolled the ramparts.

A young lady he'd thought was a cook, not a fighter. She'd always been in the kitchen when he swung by, helping with baking and the like. What had made her pick up a sword?

A numbness swept through him with the chilled desert wind, making it easier. He tried not to think, to focus on his work. To make sure the sand and stone beneath his feet didn't give way as he carried things. He tried not to think of them as people. Let them be things for the night and mourned in the morning, when he could face it.

When he didn't have to see their faces twisted with pain and gouged with wounds.

It wasn't until almost two hours later when they were relieved by a young lady who said she'd been sent by the inquisitor herself.

"You're to report to the healers to make sure you're well," she explained, trying not to look at the growing pile of bodies beside Varric and Rivainni. "She said you need your rest. After the rift and...and she'd better not have to come for you herself."

Hawke frowned at that and shifted his weight, glancing around. "We'd be more useful out here."

"I-I'm not allowed to let you stay."

"Alright," Varric conceded. Somehow arguing with the kid was making him even more tired than before. Maybe everything was again having a chance to catch up with him.

They headed on to the infirmary, to the messenger's relief, and patiently waited as one of the healers prioritized both Varric and Hawke, inspecting them every which way and even casting a few spells that fell awkardly off their lips. Something Stardust had told him to do, likely.

When he felt that he'd scrutinized the two well enough to meet the inquisitor's standards-she was off doing who knew what, but apparently everyone was a bit on edge after she'd shown up in no mood to give anyone any bit of leeway-the healer dismissed them and returned to the rest of the wounded.

Another number that was too high.

Honestly, Varric was a bit surprised that he didn't see Stardust there. She was always so obsessive with healing others.

Maybe this time it was too much?

Before, she hadn't really known the people she was healing. Maybe now it was...different.

"Garrett! We need to talk!"

Alistair hurried over to them. He looked a little paler than usual, but then, considering what they'd all been through, Varric couldn't really blame him.

"Is Finley kicking the wardens out?" Hawke asked, interrupting what Alistair was trying to say.

"Not...completely. She...come on. We need to talk." As he led them through the camp, toward the desert, he continued answering a few of Hawke's pestering questions.

The mages and 'weak-willed' were to go north. Alistair and some of the more seasoned and hardened wardens were going to stay to help slay Corypheus, since he was clearly darkspawn and they wanted someone present to deal with that damned dragon-archdemon or no, it was blighted and slaying it was a warden's job.

Hero would be staying as well, though Alistair seemed a little put off when Varric asked about him.

When they'd finally made it far enough from the growing camp that Alistair seemed comfortable, he whirled toward them, eyes wide, and whispered, "Finley is a witch."