InsaneJournal

This was certainly not Kirkwall. Or any place Varric had ever heard of. In all his wildest imaginings he had never really thought a metal contraption floating through space was a possibility.

The little interact PADDs and other technology were a lot like magic, and while he was wary at first, he quickly learned to adapt. The promise that these things could record his stories without him picking up a quill? Priceless.

After losing an argument about Bianca, Varric shuffled through the decks. He might be a little lost, but he wasn’t going to admit that.

He thought he saw someone who looked very familiar, and for a moment he was overcome with a variety of emotions, some of which he’d killed and buried years ago.

But it wasn’t like Hawke had been dead, he just hadn’t seen her since the mess with the Wardens and as far as he knew she was causing havoc up north. But here in this place so far from home? He might have had emotions.

But Varric being Varric, he hid them well, sneaking up behind her and saying. “Hey Chuckles. I think you might have misplaced something. Namely, me.”

It was the kind of Sunday that had been eighteen levels of crazy in the sick bay. All hands on deck, as it were, with that many travelers leaving or going - though there was never any direct processing for those who went. Mainly, there was oodles of paperwork and room assignments.

Marian had been on her way to her office to get a coffee and start on her own pile when she heard the unmistakeable voice of one Varric Tethras behind her. Her heart actually skipped three entire beats, and she took a minute to settle her face back into its customary smirk before swiveling on her heel.

"Varric!" She shouted, then lifted him up into her arms and hugged him against her. The dwarf was just as heavy as he always was, and he probably would object to this very public display of platonic affection, but she didn't care. "Come to my bosom, just for a few seconds."

He’d forgotten how strong she was, but he didn’t particularly mind. There were only two people in all of Thedas who had the privilege, and Aveline was mostly because of her ability to glare.

Not that a beautiful woman’s bosom was ever anything to sneeze at. “No attempt on my chest chair? Hawke, are you feeling well? Or did Weisshaupt leave you that scattered?”

Varric had no understanding of the time differences yet, or really anything besides space galleon and another universe, which he could only assume was like the Fade. Except less demons.

"I've never felt better than I do right this moment," Hawke replied, her voice just slightly hoarse. She squeezed him even more tightly before gently setting him back on the ground, her hands respectfully avoiding copping a feel at the sacred chest hair.

She smoothed her own clothing out, taking a moment to steady her voice, and then snorted. "Though I suppose I've missed my one opportunity to touch it, now. Ah well. But - Maker, don't even talk to me about Weisshaupt. Whatever you've heard, I had nothing to do with it."

“I heard something about gryphons,” Varric said, puffing out his shirt and grinning up at Hawke. Even for a human, Hawke was tall, but Varric was used to looking up at people. It was one reason he did enjoy dealing with dwarves - he could look them in the eyes. But his grin was positively beaming - after everything that had happened, he was happy to bask in Marian’s presence again.

“And also something about a Warden-Commander’s knickers that I desperately need the details on.”

"It's not my fault that he bet against me in a game of Wicked Grace. Honestly, anyone should know better by now." Hawke shook her head at the memory. Some part of her couldn't even believe that news about her exploits there had spread that far, but this was Varric. He probably had all kinds of spies just to watch her. "They were the most amazing shade of green. Orlesian silk, if you can imagine."

She ran a hand up through her hair, quickly thinking about what to do next, and then motioned into the office. "I was just going to have a sit down at my desk and drown myself in paperwork, liquor, and coffee. You could join me, if you like."

“Considering how often you were kicked out of a game, it should have become legend by now.” Varric had spies everywhere. Sure, they weren’t little birds like Leliana's, but they were still effective. And he cared about them about as much as Leliana did. Perhaps more than she did.

“How did a Warden get ahold of Orlesian silk undergarments?” Varric threw his head back, laughing uproariously. It drew a few looks, but nothing more.

“What kind of paperwork did you get yourself roped into, Hawke?”

"The kind of paperwork that never ends and stacks twice on Sundays." Hawke answered him over her shoulder as she walked into the Liaison Office and into her own personal one, where the desk was piled with PADDS. "Only it's not paper anymore, it's just several of these little magical pieces of glass. And maker only knows, from the Orlesian markets? They hardly get paid enough to afford it. Also the crest embroidered into it definitely wasn't his."

Hawke ordered a coffee in the replicator along with two glasses, then plopped then down on her desk. "We need to get drunk, obviously. That's how we do things."

“No, really. I’m trying to wrap my mind around this.” Varric couldn’t believe they’d both managed to get stuck doing paperwork. Him as viscount and her as whatever she was doing here. Liaison, apparently.

“I always knew you were a people person.”

Planting himself in a chair and putting his feet on the desk, Varric leaned his head back on his hands. “Someone’s been messing around.”

"Lord, you'd think I wouldn't be after all those awful parties and the like. But I've actually found I'm suited to taking in new people who aren't used to all this 'technology' shite and showing them the ropes. Someone's got to keep track of all of their powers and such, too." Hawke poured them both a glass, then added a few dollops to her coffee, too. The caffeine was very much a necessity at this point. Now that she and Lucifer were no longer steady bedfellows, the only way she got more than a few hours of restful sleep was via means of medicine, magic use, or other more negative means.

There were no bags under her eyes to show it, but Hawke was utterly exhausted.

She plunked down in her chair, then, and lifted the mug of coffee to her lips before adding, with a trace of a smirk, "Oh I've been messing around. Though in typical fashion the messing made an additional mess, one that we're both ignoring happened for the most part."

“Powers? Like mages?” Really, Varric had no problem with mages, except they’d been directly involved with so many messes in his life. He supposed that was the danger with power - some liked to abuse it.

He studied Hawke as she sat down, his expression neutral, but his eyes sharp. He new the way she carried herself, the set of her shoulders, and telltale signs of her exhaustion. And she was exhausted. “When was the last time you slept a full night?”

"You've only been here a day, do you think you could ease into mother henning me?" Hawke countered, with a snort. She drank down half of the cup in one gulp and then set it down on her desk. "Powers... something a bit like mages, only not. And others that are... they call themselves mutants. Then we've got super humans, geniuses... We had a sorcerer but he's gone now. Others with healing magic, placing them was easy enough."

One of the PADDS on her desk had a detailed listing, and she fished for it, then held it up. "There's a boy who was bit by some sort of… special spider, another one recently lost control and took out parts of our security team. We've got someone else who can turn into something big and angry, but I think he's too careful to ever let 'that other guy' out."

“Hawke, the day I met you I started mother-henning you.” He felt like he needed a smoke, but at least he had a drink. At some point he’d picked up a pipe habit, but he wasn’t sure where he’d get the tobacco. Or even if it was allowed. The Enterprise seemed positively prudish. It didn’t even have a brothel!

“So in other words, we’re hurtling through the void on a ship filled with very dangerous people, like a flying Mage Circle.”

The truth was, Varric was probably better at mother-henning her than her own mother had been. Those were sad thoughts that put that ache back into her chest, and she shook them off as she drank down the rest of the coffee. Really, Starfleet mugs were tiny compared to those that could be found in Thedas. "I suppose... yes. Especially considering they all had a nice long chat about how measures needed to be taken and dangerous people needed to be kept track of. You already know how well that mess went over with me."

The way Hawke seemed to forlornly stare into her mug broke Varric’s heart, just a little. And yes Hawke, he did notice how you sidestepped the question. “You didn’t answer my question, Hawke, but obviously you’ve been very busy being a people person.”

He spread his hands out as if to encompass the whole ship. “Tracking people is the first step in oppressing them.”

"We keep files, but it's mainly only whatever anyone admits, and only then because I've been making sure that their needs are met," Hawke replied, while still side stepping the original question. The truth was, she'd lost track of the number of days. But she didn't need that to be anyone else's problem. It had already gone poorly when Lucifer had made it his.

Varric had taught her to trust him, but she'd never thought she'd see him again. Having him here with her was all a little too much, and Hawke was unsure if old familiarities needed to be continued. Or maybe she was scared.

She picked her glass of alcohol up and flopped back against her chair, "The argument ended with the idea that we'd have to come up with some sort of containment system just in case. The sorcerer who made it is no longer here, and in his absence I'm going to have to step up."

Well, if someone could explode the ship, it was probably good to know how to handle it. Varric still felt uneasy about the idea, and he’d seen enough idyllic situations quickly turn out to be nightmares, so he was going to keep his eyes open.

“Isn’t that always how it goes, Champion?” Varric sipped from his mug, continuing to study her with the familiarity of long friendship. “But more importantly. What about you personally?”

"And here I thought I'd left that title far behind me." Hawke said, shaking her head at herself, and at the situation. "I'm no hero, you know that. I just - someone has to do something and I'm the one that's capable."

Which was typically how it went, and Varric was very familiar with that. As to his other question, she took the most casual sip of alcohol she could muster, and replied, "I'm fine. There's nothing to kill here, no crazy mages to try and mind control me or kill me in my sleep - or otherwise. And until you arrived I had no direct friends aboard for the forces of evil to threaten. There's a sith lord, which apparently means something sinister to some people somewhere. But she's taught me more about how to master my magic in a month than my father did in years."

“Quibble all you want, but someone having to do something and capable of doing it is a hero.” Varric grinned at her over his drink. Now that was a familiar argument. But Hawke is and always would be a hero in Varric’s eyes. And he’d written stories and songs just to that effect.

“So you’re bored to tears and hooking up with the local versions of magisters?”

"How can I be bored to tears with all of this busy work?" Hawke argued, making a broad gesture at her desk and all the little PADDS stacked upon it. "And no, not hooking up, not like that. I did hook up with someone for a bit, but he grew a pair of wings and remembered he didn't need to be tied down. And frankly, I was getting a little too used to him, myself."

And that's why she and Lucifer were far more estranged than she personally liked. At least for the moment. "He was good to talk to. A little different than talking to you, since he stands outside the situation. And I made friends with one of the aliens aboard who I'm sure you'll take a liking to - Jadzia's her name. She's got the most lovely spots on the sides of her body. They scatter across her shoulders and up her temples."

“Busy work is being bored to tears!”

Both of Varric’s eyebrows shot up. Not that he was all that surprised - Hawke had her preferences and they tended to be dark and brooding, or hopelessly broken. Sometimes both at once. “Someone with wings, another one with lovely spots. I see I’m going to have a good time here. And that man sounds like he’s perfect for you.”

There was no judgement there, though he couldn’t help tease her just a little.

"He isn't. We aren't currently a thing and I have no intention of starting anything up with him again." Lucifer was too prickly in too many well remembered places. "He's reminded me more than once - and I've reminded myself - that he isn't Fenris. But it's too familiar, either way. So that's that. Jadzia's lovely, though, but we're just friends. Maker, I hope you don't think I work that fast."

She knocked back the rest of her glass, and poured herself another. "She helped me with a special project and now I can practice my fire magic without the ship setting off angry alarms."

And other kinds of magic. Varric wasn't ready to hear that yet, and she wasn't ready to tell him.

“You’re not Rivaini,” Varric agreed. Isabela would have worked her way from the captain on down within a few weeks, at least those who caught her eye. He envied her stamina and her dedication.

“But you’re good at making friends and Allies, Hawke. It’s one of the things that makes you so special.” At that, he raised his mug in a toast, eyes twinkling.

Those damned twinkling eyes were a sight she also thought she'd never see again, and she mentally cursed herself for having what might have been emotions as she toasted Varric with her glass. "I almost missed you, you know. It's really a shame that you're here and making me regret it already."

“Almost. It’s such a sad word. Almost missed me. Almost won that dice game. Almost avoided fighting the giant horned madman. Almost.”

Hawke glanced down at her arm. The scars from that battle weren't exactly fresh anymore, but they'd never faded. "Were we really ever going to avoid that battle? I somehow doubt it. Even if she'd never run off with that relic."

She suddenly sounded every bit as battleworn and old as she felt, and that made her smash her hand against her face for a few seconds. "I hate almost."

“Sometimes, a fight is inevitable. All we can do is make sure the battle is worth it and there’s someone to pick up the pieces.” He’d sworn long ago he’d pick up Hawke when she needed it. He wasn’t her keeper, and he couldn’t and wouldn’t control her, but he’d be there to hold her when she fell.

“How about this. We almost never saw each other again.”

"Well." She removed her hand from her face, both of her eyebrows raising up. "There is that, I suppose. That's not bad at all. We almost... didn't get to have this conversation." Almost didn't get to hear each other's voices again. Almost didn't get to read Varric's stories again. See that stupidly mischievous grin. Roll her eyes at his stupid jokes.

"No, that's not bad at all."