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Varric is sitting at his desk, elbows deep in trading contracts when Hawke storms into his room. She throws down her staff, and starts tugging off her armor.
“What’s gotten into you?” he says, his attention still half absorbed in his paperwork.
“That thing,” she says through her teeth. “It keeps following me.”
“What thing,” he says, absently rubbing at an ink stain on his forearm. If the Guild thinks he’s going to let these rates stand-
“Pale, scrawny, looks like it crawled up out of the Fallow Mire,” Hawke says, impatiently pulling at her boots. “Insists it’s some kind of friend of yours.”
It takes him a full minute. Then he sits up, astonished. “Wait, you mean Cole?”
She turns to look at him, her face incredulous. “It has a name?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “Well, yeah.” At her expression he finds himself getting defensive. “Cut him a break, Hawke, he’s just a kid-“
”A kid?” she says, staring at him like he’s gone mad. “That is not a child, Varric. That is a demon wearing someone’s body like a pair of blighted trousers.”
“He’s not a demon,” Varric protests. “He’s, ah,” he pauses, thinking. “Best I can tell he’s some kind of spirit. Compassion, or something.” Hawke rolls her eyes. “Look, he’s here because he wants to help.”
Hawke snorts. “I’ve heard that before.”
“He’s not like-“ Varric stops himself a second before saying the name. This is a conversation he’s not sure he wants to have, not with Hawke looking murderous and under-fed and twitchier than a bag of snakes. “He’s alright,” he finishes lamely.
She shakes her head stubbornly. “You can’t trust it.”
“Hawke-“
“Listen to me,” she says, and he can hear the raw edge of exhaustion underlying her words. “Maybe it’s telling the truth, maybe it started out as Compassion. But it isn’t in the Fade anymore, Varric. It’s here. Things change, here. You can’t always control how.”
Varric shakes his head. “Cole wouldn’t hurt anyone,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Then why does it carry all those knives,” she says, turning to look at him. At his glare, her expression softens. “I know you want to believe it’s just another stray you can take under your wing,” she says, rubbing her eyes. “You’re rather predictable in that way, you know. “
“Predictable?” he grumbles. “Now you’re starting to sound like my editor.”
“Frankly I’m surprised I haven’t seen it trailing around with a ball of twine.” For a second the corner of her mouth twitches.
“Cole doesn’t get lost,” Varric says. “He always finds his way to the people who need him most.” He looks pointedly at her.
Her grin is gone. “Keep it if you like, but don’t let down your guard,” she says, her voice cold. “Whatever it’s told you, however human it sounds, the thing beneath the skin has it’s own agenda.”
He’s confused, and a part of him is angry, too, that she can’t look past her own demons, see the kid for what he really is. And yeah, it hurts that she doesn’t believe him. But he can hear the fear in her voice. And it’s not the first time he’s introduced her to a spirit in human form, is it?
It should have been him, he thinks, remembering that night. He was the one who’d vouched for the man, who’d brought him into the fold, who’d known him the longest. But instead he’d just stood there frozen, struck dumb and useless. And meanwhile Sebastian had started swearing and shouting in a voice gone hoarse with rage, while Merrill reached out to catch a flake of falling ash in one trembling palm. Aveline had simply looked ill, and Isabela had turned grim and weary. Fenris wore no expression at all, just stared with eyes gone hard and flat as marble. As for Hawke… Varric never saw her face, for while the rest of them stood stunned into stillness at the magnitude of what their friend had done, Hawke had stepped forward to where Anders knelt shaking, the knife glinting at her side-
He can’t blame her for not trusting him this time.
“I’ll watch him,” Varric concedes. “But if he’s following you, it’s probably because he thinks you’re hurting. You should try listening to what he has to say. A lot of people find it helpful- ”
“The best way that thing can help me is by keeping it’s distance,” she says. She looks up at him, her blue eyes weary. “If you hold any sort of sway over it, then please, tell it to leave me alone.”
Varric sighs. “Allright,” he says, turning back to his desk. “I’ll tell him.”