The slaver cowered in front of them, begging for mercy. Fenris shoved him onto the ground, knocking the staff from his trembling hands.

"How can you demand mercy when you have denied it to so many?" Fenris growled, leaning over the whimpering slaver.

Hawke stepped forward, putting her hand on Fenris's shoulder. "Enough Fenris. We still need information from him."

Fenris turned away in disgust. Hawke watched him step over the bodies of the guards they had slain, towards the cage where at least 15 elves were staring out at them, terrified.

Hawke leaned over the slaver. "Where did you get all of these people?" she asked, doing her best to sound menacing. Fenris was always much better at interrogation, but Hawke had seen him kill too many slavers to let him at any more.

He cannot forgive, nor forget

The slaver started snivelling, and curled up into a ball.

"I need to know. Now."

The slaver stopped his whining and hesitated, glancing up at Hawke, the cage, and Fenris.

"HAWKE!"

Fenris sped to her side and pushed her out of the way, before letting out a grunt and clutching his side. Hawke got up and spotted the archer, who was now turning to run. In seconds, Hawke had reached for her quiver, knocked, drawn, and shot an arrow that sailed straight towards the running guard, who promptly fell to the ground, arrow embedded in his skull.

She turned around to see Fenris staring down at the body of the slaver, breathing heavily and clutching his side. The elves they had freed were long gone.

"Fenris...let me see that," Hawke reached towards Fenris, who flinched.

"No. No I'm fine."

"You're bleeding."

"Aren't we always?"

"Fenris..."

"It's barely a graze."

Hawke turned around and stared down at the slaver's body. "You'd say that even if your arm was coming off", she muttered to herself.

There was a pause. Fenris forced her around to glare at her, his fierce green eyes aflame. "What?"

"You know what I mean" Hawke sighed.

"I'm not sure that I do."

Hawke turned again and bent down, distractedly searching the slaver for a note, or some sign of where he'd taken those elves. Her heart was pounding in her chest.

"Hawke?"

She lifted her head to look at him. He'd sheathed his sword, and had one hand on his wound. He was gritting his teeth, pretending he wasn't hurt.

"I might have moved out of the way – I might have heard it." She sighed again, as Fenris crouched down to look her in the eyes. "But you always do this. Constantly. You're always getting hurt protecting me. And..."

"And if you hadn't moved? Hawke...you could have died."

"But you could have too!"

"And that was my choice to make." Fenris bolted up and began pacing, barely caring if he stood on some unconscious guard.

"Fenris...I..."

"Let's just go."

The clouds were darkening by the time they'd returned to the inn, and dinner was being served. They ate in silence – Hawke staring at the bowl of dark stew, and Fenris staring at her.

"I just...I...I can't let you die for me." Hawke finally met Fenris' gaze. "I couldn't live with myself. I need you Fenris. I...I love you..."

Fenris moved his hand so that it was on hers. "I know. I'm sorry. But I could not bear the thought of..."

"Fenris. I understand that. And I feel the same. That's the problem."

"It isn't a problem. I would die for you. Gladly. And there's nothing you can say that will change my mind about that." His growl was almost threatening.

Stupid…stubborn fool…

Hawke sighed. "I know"

"I'll...try," Fenris breathed, "to trust that you can take care of yourself Hawke. I know you can. But..." he chuckled. "I can't help it."

Hawke grinned, looking down at her stew again to try and hide the growing heat in her cheeks.

"Can you help calling me by my name? How long do we have to be together for you to use my first name?"

Fenris squeezed her hand. "I love you...Marion."

Hawke lay on her back, listening to Fenris breathing beside her. Her eyes were open, but in the darkness she could barely see a thing. At this time of night, it was usually Hawke who was asleep, and Fenris tossing at turning.

How things change, Hawke thought.

She turned to face him. He looked calm. Content. Maybe even happy. He was certainly happier now than he ever was in Kirkwall.

Can I say the same?

She missed it. Sometimes. But there was nothing left for her there...or anywhere. Her father, dead. Carver, dead. Bethany, dead. Even her mother. The only family she had left was Gamlen...

And Fenris

He was still breathing lightly. Even in the dark, she could see the markings on his skin. How could something so beautiful cause him so much pain?

I suppose it isn't just the pain of the markings, it's what he went through to get them...and what's happened since.

She kept watching him. She couldn't help it...she loved him. Even without proper light she could see the red scarf wrapped around his wrist – the one she'd given him all those years ago.

Hawke was happier now too. Maybe. She couldn't get her family back, no matter what. And the rest of her companions couldn't stay forever. Varric...Aveline...Anders...Merrill...she missed them all.

But Fenris...Fenris she couldn't live without. She needed him. He wasn't always right, but he was always what she needed, be it a shoulder to cry on or someone to help make the brutal decisions.

Fenris stirred in his sleep, and grunted when he rolled onto his fresh wound. Hawke felt guilt wash through her. She got up quietly to sit in the small arm-chair in front of the bed.

This hadn't been the first time that Fenris had been wounded protecting her. It had probably been half a dozen times since they set out from Kirkwall. Some wounds were worse than others...this one was relatively minor.

Only few weeks ago, they had been fighting Templars. Fenris had been hurt. Badly. He couldn't walk. Hawke had thrown him over the back of a horse. The blood was soaking his clothes, and he murmured about his past in his delirium.

Thankfully, Hawke found a mage they had freed earlier, who promptly healed Fenris. When he woke, he was far from gracious. He thanked the mage of course, but only out of courtesy – he didn't mean it. He rarely did when it came to mages.

If they hadn't found that mage...Hawke shuddered.

He would have died.

Hawke felt a tear roll down her face. She wiped it away hurriedly.

No matter what she did, Fenris would always be there for her. That was the problem. She looked over at him again – this cut hadn't been deep, but it might have been. One day, he might throw himself towards her, to protect her...and die.

He would. He'd said it before. He would DIE for her.

Could I let him?

More tears began to fall, and Hawke had to suppress her sobs to avoid waking Fenris up. She stood, and walked over to the window, trying hard not to make noise. She hid herself amongst the folds of the curtains, and stared out into the night. It was starting to drizzle.

I need him. I LOVE him.

I can't let him die for me. I can't.

But...what then?

She put a hand over her mouth – another sob was escaping. She knew what she had to do. She had probably known for a while.

It couldn't have lasted forever...could it?

Hawke slipped away from the window, leaving the curtain open a fraction to let in some light. The tears made it hard to see, but she began to pack her things.

Breeches...shirts...underclothes...

She shoved everything into her bag. She could barely see, and she was still trying to suppress her sobs. Fenris stirred.

She stopped moving, and looked over at him. Tears welled up again, and she let out an audible sob.

She finished dressing, checked her possessions and threw on her boots. Hawke heard the muffled sound of Fenris' voice, and saw him beginning to sit up with a grunt.

"I'm so sorry", she whispered.

She didn't turn around again, she just ran. She threw the door open and fled down the stairs, not caring if she bumped into anything. She heard a vase smash behind her, and Fenris' deep voice drifting down the corridors.

"HAWKE! WAIT!"

Hawke made it down to the stables and quickly shoved some coins into the sleeping stable boy's hand. Her hands shook as she tried to untie her horse. The shouts were getting louder behind her.

She gave up. Hawke pulled out her knife and cut the rope. She scrambled on top of her horse and kicked it hard in the sides.

"GO"

The horse didn't need a second kick – the animal bolted out of the stables and down the road. Hawke listened to the receding sounds, conscious only of the feel of the cold rain on her skin as it mixed with her warm tears.

She didn't look back. She couldn't. There was one final shout.

Then there was nothing but the rain.

Goodbye, Fenris.

I love you