ACT II: Misery's Lovely Company


Note: We'll get to more Jaime/Bull bits soon. I promise!


The early morning sunrise glinted through the flaps of my tent. My back drenched in sweat as I laid in bed motionless, contemplating my life and the stupid decisions I've made thus far. The roof of the tent swayed with the gentle breeze and only the faintest of whispers drew up from the grass and the leaves that circled outside of my tent in the courtyard. I didn't want to face the day.

"The Commander is concerned." Cole hovered to the left side of my tent. He peered at me, upside down, his hat still stuck to his head even as he floated a good ways off the ground. "Worried, hurried, battered and confused — he thinks you're sick." Thankfully it was Cullen that was worried, not any other commander.

I am sick. In the head or the heart. Blame one.

"I cannot." Cole answered. I winced, forgetting he could hear my thoughts. "The head and heart are clear. Glowing, sifting, happy, thrilling." A laugh bubbled up from my chest and I threw back my covers. So much for the idea of hiding what I felt. Cole watched as I tumbled out of bed, shifting in the air to avoid hitting me.

"Yeah, I know." I sighed, running my hands through my hair and detangling the braid it was in. "I'm not sick. I don't suppose you could tell him that, could you?" Cole was silent, his hat twitched with a turn of his head as he looked out through the flaps of my tent.

"Yes." He answered, surprised. "They can see me. Yes. I will tell him." I glanced up to find my tent empty, the spirit gone away to do his task. Here's hoping he doesn't scare the shit out of Cullen this time. Out of bed, I took up residence at my wash bin, scrubbing my face and hair, cleaning out what I could of any necessary parts that ran afoul with scent before dressing.

Normally I was up and out of the tent at the speed of light, eager to be back in the mess of things (and what a change that was from months previous?), but today a fear gripped me of running into a certain Qunari. It wasn't as if Bull had Cole's ability to read my mind and guess at all the secrets I held. There was still that fear, though, that he could read me, find the tangled web of emotion I bundled away deep in my soul.

Was it love? Doubtful. I was tired and extremely drained from the day before. I hadn't even finished all that I wanted to do, I still had to talk to Leliana about Hawke's information, and Josephine to get Dorian's books for research. I knew I had to check up on Cullen for the status of our people and Cassandra was someone in the ether that I had to snag before she got wind that Hawke had come around. There was so much to do and I felt our recovery phase slipping away.

Maybe I just latched on to that feeling of overwhelming relief when Bull came by to help me and not the other way around. Granted, that also put Solas in the same category, so it couldn't be love. Affection for the big lug, maybe, but not love. He was a Qunari, different race entirely despite the eagerness of some Sisters, and he was also a spy. He openly admitted it; ignoring the months he had spent at my side, helping.

He also flirts with you, my mind supplied. I countered with; Spy, they always will.

I jumped the gun. I know I did. You don't fall in love with someone that fast. You couldn't have, because that's how murder mysteries started and you ended up on a crime show. My slacks came up next after I had dried up, my boots laced tightly and my tunic tucked in enough to be roguishly presentable. My hair was getting too long, I would have to find someone reputable to cut it. Sera is already looking for an excuse, so best to keep my mouth shut about it until it's finished.

The distracted thoughts were not helping, my heart thrummed happily against my ribs, a purring cat wanting for attention. Ignorance was bliss, I decided, and brought over my vest before yanking on my armored back-brace and vambraces. My coat fitted on comfortably and once it was on, I realized I couldn't hide in my tent anymore.

I hate everything. That's it. That'll get me through the day. I swear to God, Jaime, if you make moon-eyes at the fucker, I'll fling us off the battlements. I tied my scarf around my neck smartly.

I'm not sure where the dual personality had come from, but that was best left for another day. Once out of the tent, I could see that a good number of soldiers and merchants were already on the run, dashing through the yard with their things and scrolls. A few of Leliana's people hung around Cullen like bats, waiting and watching before taking flight at his orders. Cullen spied me over his papers once I was up near his table.

"Good morning." He greeted me, nodding his head in salute.

"Good morning?" I teased. "You look like death warmed over. I like the improvement!"

He snorted at me, but it got me a smile. "I'll take your judgement on it. Well. Reports, then."

"Reports." I agreed, nodding as well. He chuckled and reached for a few scrolls at his desk, unfurling them and pinning them to the surface. A soldier next to him came around the table and pinned a few others open as Cullen pushed the most important toward me, trusting that I could read the information.

"We set up as best we could at Haven, but nothing could have prepared us for an archdemon or — whatever it was." He cleared his throat, rubbing at the back of his neck again. "With some warning, we might have…" His gaze cast down to the table, shame taking his words.

"Hey," I reached out and tapped his pauldron, "we were all pretty shaken by what happened, Commander."

Cullen shook his head, "If Corypheus decides to come after us here, we may not be able to withdraw… I wouldn't want to." He stared down at the map of Skyhold. He knew better than most the defenses that housed us, as well as the likelihood of escape if it was needed. I had no doubt Skyhold had something in case we were overwhelmed, but I agreed with the Commander on this one.

I wasn't running a second time.

"So what have we got, then?" I prompted him out of his sorrow, hands folded behind my back as I peered at his work.

"The work on Skyhold is progressing nicely. We've had plenty of tradesmen come in from Orlais and Ferelden to help with the repairs." Cullen pointed to the roster that was unrolled furthest from me, a list of names that went two or three pages deep. "We've also set up guard rotations. By the end of this week, we should be settled."

I nodded, "I'm still amazed what we've managed to accomplished in the month we've been here."

"I will agree with you there. The people here have been motivated to succeed." He turned to me, the wrinkles of his face hard as he pursed his mouth and straightened his back. "We will not run from here, Inquisitor." My new title still hit like a truck. It had taken me months to get used to 'Herald,' I could only hope I wouldn't trip so long on the newest name.

"How many did we lose?" I asked quietly, reeling under the title.

"Not many. Our civilians. I… have the final list being finished. Leliana will have it by this evening." He glanced off to the soldier that stood with him, the woman quiet as she nodded to me. "But morale has improved greatly ever since you accepted the role of Inquisitor."

"Inquisitor Welton." I rolled it on my tongue. The family name having been changed months ago, but it still felt foreign in my voice with the new title making it even less familiar. I huffed, amused. "It sounds really — odd, don't you think?"

A glowing chuckle was my reward, "Not at all. We needed a leader, and you more than proved yourself for it."

"I…" Stunned, I floundered for a bit, unsure of how to take the praise. "You realize we did this together, right? You responded quickly to the attack on Haven. I'm grateful for that — without you, so many more would have died." He eyed me deeply, his gaze sifted like fine sand over my face, a muscle jumped at the back of his jawline.

"Thank you, Inquisitor." He ardently replied. "I'll do everything in my power to ensure the security of our people." His hand rose to his chest and the slight tap of his fist to his breastplate was his salute. A smile flashed across my face, I'm glad you're doing better. Miles from where he was back in my tent after I had been found, but I couldn't bring myself to say it while soldiers milled around us.

"— This thing is not a stray puppy you can make into a pet. It has no business being here." Vivienne's voice echoed over our heads. Cullen and I glanced up and watched as Cassandra and Solas trailed behind the ever-grand enchantress. The woman led the charge down the steps and seemed to make a beeline for us.

"Ah, this is my cue." Cullen muttered to me. He and his soldier rolled up their scrolls and lists before he swerved around me, a hand on my back as he leaned in close to my ear to whisper: "Good luck."

"Traitor," I hissed back at him, laughing quietly. Cassandra and Solas spotted me around the same time, with Cassandra's shoulders sagging in relief and Solas standing a bit straighter. Ooh, fuck. I'm the deciding factor, am I? I needed a clue-in as to what the conversation was about first. I waited at the bottom of the steps watching the trio descend.

"Ah, good. Inquisitor." Vivienne called to me, laser-focused. My Mark twinged in my palm, the presence of Cole's form flickering at the corner of my vision. Solas made a move to finish the last of the stairs and stand in front of the spirit, warding off Vivienne. Cassandra took up her stance next to me, settling into place like a puzzle piece.

Fucking hell, I miss her. I gave her a smile, so as not to embarrass her with my emotions.

"Lady Vivienne, I understand your position, but I disagree." Solas kept his face straight, feet planted firmly in front of Cole. "I dare say one could say the same of an apostate."

"Wait, hold the fuck up — are we arguing about Cole?" I interjected, alarmed.

"Inquisitor, I wondered if Cole was perhaps a mage, given his unusual abilities." Cassandra explained hastily, bringing me up to speed of the argument. My bewilderment was clear on my face; since when did Cole become an issue? What's he been doing these last few weeks?

"He can cause people to forget him, or even fail entirely to notice him." Solas glanced over his shoulder, as did I, but Cole had long disappeared. Ah, wonderful. Now it's a goose chase. Solas sighed sharply, "These are not the abilities of a mage. It seems that Cole is a spirit."

"Was that a question?" I asked, dumbfounded. "Even I knew that." All three turned to me, a piercing look in their gazes. Did we not all know that? Just me? Christ. I raised my left hand and waved it lightly, the Mark glowing faintly, pulsing as if greeting the people before me.

"Wonderful," Vivienne burned her words, "even more proof that it is a demon."

Solas was unphased, voice laced professionally. "If you would prefer. Although, the truth is somewhat more complex. In fact, I do not believe his nature is so easily defined."

"Speak plainly, Solas." Cassandra gave a frustrated growl. "What are we dealing with?"

Solas' brow rose. "Demons normally enter this world by possessing something. In their true form, they look bizarre, monstrous."

"Right." I added, glancing between them. "Like when we found out that the demons coming through the Fade are just spirits trapped in the net." Solas smirked at me briefly, perhaps amused that of all the people around him, I wasn't the one that needed the explanation. It was pride I saw in his eyes.

Points to me, yay.

Cassandra held up a hand, halting the explanation. "But you claim Cole looks like a young man. Is it possession?"

"No." Solas shook his head, his tone pleasantly surprised. "He has possessed nothing and no one, and yet he appears human in all respects."

Vivienne scoffed, her arms folded under her bosom. "But he is not. He was not born human. Anything that is created from the Fade, even with the characteristics of humanity do not make them so." I had one hell of an argument for her concerning artificial insemination and tube babies. Again, more arguments and problems for a different day.

"Cole is unique, Inquisitor." Solas stressed, turning to me with quiet pleading. "More than that, he wishes to help. I suggest you allow him to do so." Had I not already done so? Or — wait. He wanted to help, but his previous request had only been to help me. A pause stretched between the four of us, my right hand came up to rub at my chin.

"I'm not entirely sure he's demonic, Vivienne." I placated the steaming enchanter, her frown searing a place at the side of my skull. "Working with the rifts, I've seen what happens to spirits who come unwillingly."

"Cole predates the Breach." Solas added, stepping toward me. "From what we can tell, he has lived here for months, perhaps years. He looks like a young man. For all intents and purposes, he is a young man. It's remarkable." Cassandra was willing to settle behind me, allowing the conversation to flow between those more knowledgeable of spirits and their phases (not that I was an expert by any means). Vivienne closed up like a clam, seeing that Solas had taken the upperhand.

I raised my hand from my chin, stopping Solas. "I should hear what Cole has to say for himself." I stepped away from Solas and peered around our group, looking for the spirit in question. The ground around us was empty, the crowds of merchants off toward the stables hummed with life, but the tents at the bottom of the stairway were packed with the dying.

Cole walked among them.

I left my group with a wave of my hand to allow me the chance to talk to Cole. The surgeon moved around him as if he was non-existent, the patients at her feet stared aimlessly into the crowds and into the ground that Cole walking past them did little to deter their gaze. Had it really been so surprising that he was a spirit? It seemed so natural to me that he was, I didn't think to question that he was a demon. Could be a demon. I had always expected demons to be dangerous, both in my world and this one.

I guess I failed lesson number one, that a demon would be cunning.

"Haven." Cole whispered as I approached his side, his eyes jumped between faces. "So many soldiers fought to protect the pilgrims so they could escape." The surgeon greeted me with a tired, distracted salute and continued on; she had no time to stop and greet me properly. My waved hand was enough to relieve her of any responsibility to entertain me.

Cole continued, watching; "Choking fear. Can't think from the medicine but the cuts wrack me with every heartbeat." I closed my eyes and clamped my mouth tight. He's listening to someone. Oh no. A glance around the fallen soldiers, but I couldn't spot the one Cole had focused on, they all suffered with their wounds, all of them shuddering with each breath.

"Hot — white — pain. Everything burns. I can't, I can't, I'm going to — I'm dying, I'm —" With a vicious suddenness, tears flooded my eyes and willfully I forced myself to listen, watching as Cole fidgeted with his sleeves. I know that fear. My thoughts were shrouded by the shadows of the cave I had fallen into. Oh god, do I know it who's he listening to? Christ Almighty.

" —Dead." Cole intoned, turning to focus on a soldier at the far end of the camp. Gaze muddled by my tears, I turned to look as well, watching as the surgeon hissed in aggravation when the soldier faded away in her grip, his limbs going lax against the ground. A hand rose to my mouth and I held in a surprised hitch of pain that tried to escape.

"Cole," I was terrified to ask, but I had to, "are you feeling their pain?"

He paused to consider the question and answered quietly. "It's louder this close, with so many of them."

"Would — you like to go somewhere more comfortable?" But where would I take him? Everywhere in Skyhold, someone was hurting, someone was dying, or sick, or wounded. Pain here was inescapable, where could I possibly take him to stop it?

"Yes." He answered immediately, and then walked away from me. "But here is where I can help." A hesitant step forward was enough to follow him, walking away from the tents to someone else that laid on a cot, his eyes bandaged and his breathing shallow. He couldn't see us, but his head turned as if he could sense myself or Cole.

"Every breath slower. Like lying in a warm bath. Sliding away. Smell of my daughter's hair when I kiss her goodnight." Cole paused, confused. He looked down and his shoulders slumped as the soldier's chest flattened. "Gone." I couldn't handle the tears at my eyes. The heel of my right palm came up to wipe them away, caught off-guard by the sudden emotion I was feeling.

Goddamn this stupid Mark.

"Cracked brown pain. Dry, scraping. Thirsty." Cole latched onto another and dove away, hastened by what he was feeling. I was glued to my spot, watching as he snatched a small pitcher of water and a cup from behind the Chantry Mother's back and took it away, heading back to a soldier not far from where I stood.

"Here." He knelt by the woman, pouring her a cup of water and helping her drink. She swallowed the offering greedily, gasping quietly as the water touched her throat, her eyes closing softly in relief.

"Thank you," she breathed, lying back onto her bedroll. Cole left the pitcher of water and the cup near her. He glanced up at me, pausing for a moment before he hunched his shoulders and came back to my side, quiet.

"It's alright." He explained. "She won't remember me." I didn't know what to say, stunned as I was. The Mark hummed in my hand at Cole's proximity and I clenched my fingers around it, alarmed by the sensation. What was he? What was I now that I could feel him and what he was doing? A gentle turn of my head, I could see him at my side.

"So you're using your powers as a spirit to help people?" I asked quietly, unsure if the people around me could see him, or think I was crazy for talking to myself if he wasn't visible. Cole shifted at my side, our arms brushing. He felt warm, real and solid. I had only ever gotten close enough to the demons from the rift to feel their power through my Mark, but not if they actually felt like flesh. I shuddered, wondering what else I missed.

"Yes." He answered, tipping his head toward me. "I used to think I was a ghost. I didn't know. I made mistakes… but I made friends, too." He shifted on the balls of his feet, his fingers tapping together before snagging his sleeves and tugging. Was he nervous? Or did he understand himself even less than we did?

He shook his head, "Then a Templar proved I wasn't real. I lost my friends. I lost everything."

"Cole…" I started, but quickly derailed. What on earth would I say? Could I say? Proved he wasn't real? That didn't answer whether he was a spirit or a demon. Did all unwilling spirits turn into grotesque monsters or just the ones forced through? That was also completely ignoring the question of: how the fuck did he get here?

"I learned how to be more like what I am!" Cole whispered hastily, his kaleidoscope eyes finding mine. "It made me different, but stronger. I can feel more — I can help." Hesitation gripped me and I turned back to look for the group that wanted on us. Cassandra waited, ever patient for me, her face mildly lax with disinterest. She would trust whatever decision I came up with, and that weighed on my heart.

Vivienne and Solas watched, one vexed by the time I was taking to examine the situation, the other one comfortably settled that my decision had been made. I sighed; I knew what the answer would be. I raised a hand and waved at them, dismissing them. Cole will stay, I signalled. Vivienne immediately riled up and raised her chin in the air, strutting away like God's Wrath. Cassandra nodded her head, waiting for Solas who smirked at me, pleased.

Fucking hell, just making things more complicated by the second.

"If you're willing, Cole." I turned back to him, my voice stronger with my decision. "Then stay and help us."

"Yes, helping." He sighed, relieved. "I help the hurt, the helpless, there's someone…" He turned to look at me, his eyes bright with purpose, but sorrow pulled at his mouth. His voice echoed in my head, humming through my Mark as he focused. Another's voice reverberated under Cole's gentle tone, a quake of pain laced through the connection.

Hurts, it hurts, it hurts! Someone make it stop hurting, Maker please

"Stop," I exhaled, raising a hand, my eyes shut.

Cole paused, watching me. A dagger glinted in his hand. "The healers have done all they can. It will take him hours to die. Every moment will be agony, he wants mercy. Help." My body shuddered under my head, a phantom pain that stole my lungs from me and weakened my knees. I closed my eyes, listening as someone suffered through it firsthand.

Mending for the bleeding, a dagger for the dying. The shaman Amund flashed through my mind, his tone casual and reassured in his duty. I glanced at Cole, unsure if I should lay such responsibility on him. It would be careless to trust solely on his judgement, non-human as he was.

Even as an Angel of Death, we could not just kill wantonly, kill only because the immediate moment seemed bleak. My heart thudded with pain and the Mark rumbled deep in my arm. But it will take him hours to die.

"Help them." I answered softly, my gaze on Cole. "But only when there is no other option. Do you understand? You are the last resort, not the first one."

Cole smiled at me with a nod, and between one blink in the next, he was gone.

Christ. What have I done?