Thank you for reading!

Hawke spent a sleepless night, unable to get the way Varric had looked and spoken under the influence of just a shard of that lyrium idol out of her mind. If it could affect Varric that way, level-headed Varric, who else was susceptible to it? She was terribly afraid of how close she had come to losing him the way he had lost Bartrand—and even more afraid of how empty her life seemed if he wasn't in it.

As soon as she thought he'd be up and about, she went down to the Hanged Man. He was in his own rooms for a change, rather than in the main taproom, and she felt strangely shy about knocking, even though she'd been in these rooms time and again over the years. "Varric?"

There was a long pause before he answered. "Oh. Hey, Hawke. Come on in."

She pushed the door closed behind her and stood there leaning against it. "I, um …"

"No. Me first." Varric cleared his throat and studied his boots intently. "Listen, Hawke. I … don't know what came over me back there in Bartrand's house. I'm glad—I mean, thank you for watching my back."

"It's what I do," she said lightly, to cover her fear. "That, and all the fighting."

"Bianca might have some words to say about that."

Hawke glanced at Bianca in irritation. It probably said something about her that her jealousy of a crossbow wasn't the strangest part of her relationship with this man. It probably didn't say anything good. "When Bianca talks so I can hear her, I'll know it's time to get out of this town."

"Hawke. You mean that?"

"Which part?"

"The leaving part."

She looked down at him, wanting to … wanting to beg. Or to stand her ground and threaten to leave. But they would both know that for the bluff that it was—where was she going to go? Her life was here. Truth be told, her life was him.

Varric cleared his throat again. "Do you know what today is, Hawke?"

"I know just once I'd like you to call me Mina."

"Do you know what today is … Mina?"

The sound of her name in that wonderful raspy voice of his, the voice she'd fallen in love with so long ago, made her want to cry and fall at his feet at the same time. "No. What is today, Varric?"

He was staring at his boots again, unable to meet her eyes. "This is awkward."

"What? Are you throwing me out of the gang? I think you'd have a hard time making that stick."

Varric gave a faint chuckle, but didn't continue.

"Wow." Mina shook her head. "Varric Tethras, at a loss for words. I should mark this day on my calendar. No, you know what? I should tell Aveline, and she can make it a state holiday. We can all celebrate with dwarven ale."

"You finished?"

She grinned at him. "Maybe. You find your words yet?"

"Oh, I have a few words for you." He met her eyes, his face serious. "It's nice to hear your sarcasm again. I thought—well, it's been a while."

"Nothing was funny for a while."

"No. I guess it wasn't."

"Anyway, you were saying." The last thing Mina wanted was to be bogged down in thoughts of her mother, of Bethany, of … any of it.

"I … was saying that … I just wanted to say that it's been an honor knowing you."

The uncharacteristic sincerity sent a stab of alarm through her. "Varric, don't. You're scaring me. Is one of us about to die?"

He chuckled lightly. "Not that I know of, although, given our lifestyle, I suppose we should be prepared for it."

"There are things I want, Varric, before I die." She stared down at him, wanting him to know what she meant.

"Hawke." He turned away. "I just … Do you know that it is six years ago, to the day, that I saw you dragging your tail out of Bartrand's office?"

Had it been that long? She hadn't been keeping track. Warmth filled her, knowing that Varric had. "Six years. That's a long time to know someone." A long time to be in love with someone and not have anything to show for it, she thought. She pushed herself off the door. "I'm going to kiss you, Varric."

"Hawke. We've been over this."

"No, you've been over it. And I've heard you, and I've done what you asked. But right now, right here, I'm going to do what I've wanted to do every day for the last six years, and you can pretend you don't want me to but we both know you do."

She leaned over, tugging at the tie that held his hair back until it came loose, and threaded her fingers into his hair. Varric was staring at her, frozen, unmoving, and she hesitated, waiting to see what he would do. But he did nothing, and Mina closed the space between them, claiming his warm lips with hers.

Hawke could feel in him the same trembling anticipation that filled her, but she could also feel the control he held himself in, the rigid set of his shoulders and his firm refusal to open his mouth even when she teased his lips with the tip of her tongue. At last she drew back, looking down at him. "One of these days, Varric, will be the last time. I can't do this forever, despite what you may think. Kirkwall … there's only one thing in Kirkwall that I love enough to stay, and he's doing everything he can to push me away."

The words hurt him, she could see that, but he didn't respond, and Hawke turned away. There was nothing else for her here. Not today. Not when she wanted too much.

She stopped at the door, looking back at him. "Varric. At Bartrand's house? You had me worried. Don't— I can't lose you. Not like that."

"You won't," he said hoarsely. "You don't have to worry about me, Hawke. Not like that. Not ever again. I promise."

It wasn't what she wanted, but it was enough. For today. Hawke nodded crisply and left him there, alone with his crossbow.