"Then here comes Isabela with this damned tome, right before the fight is about to break out. You can imagine our surprise!"
Laughs came from all around. Tonight was a busy night in the Hanged Man, as every night had been lately. Tensions were getting tight between the mages and templars so the citizens of Kirkwall did what they did best—they ignored their problems and drank.
Varric was the center of attention tonight, telling the story of how everyone managed to leave the fight with the Qunari alive. They had refused to leave without Isabela, but Isabela had been too good a friend to hand over. Hawke had had no other choice but to fight. The Qunari were worthy adversaries but thankfully her friends were always there to support her, and they had easily taken the Arishok down.
Darkness began to fill Hawke's heart. That was the last night that she had seen him.. She remembers watching him leave after the battle, quietly slinking out the door as Hawke talked to Meredith about what had happened with the Qunari. She remembered the feeling of dread she had, knowing that she would never see him again. She remembered the faint cheers from everyone in the room, muffled in her head by her overwhelming need to hide her emotions. Fenris leaving had opened a void in her heart that she couldn't fill, no matter how many pints of ale she drowned herself in.
"Excuse me," she mumbled to Varric; turning to hide her eyes, now filled with tears, from him. Unfortunately, she hadn't turned fast enough and he had seen. He caught her arm, making her look at him. Thankfully everyone's attention had turned to Isabela dancing a while ago, so no one seemed to take notice of their exchange.
"Is everything alright, sweetheart?" Varric asked, his tone sincere. Of everyone Hawke considered friends, Varric was the best. He was always looking out for her, being there for her when no one else was. It didn't matter how many times Hawke cried to him over what had happened; it never changed. The void was still there, would probably always be there. So in response to Varric's question, Hawke nodded and gave him a weak smile before kissing him on the cheek and getting up to leave.
She approached the bar, her cup of ale empty. She handed it to Corff and, without asking, he filled it for her once more and handed it back.
"Rough night?" he asked.
"I guess you could say that," Hawke replied, taking a drink from her cup.
"Wanna talk about it?"
Hawke shook her head and looked down at the bar. Talking about it always made the wound re-open. Out of sight, Corff nodded and returned to his work.
Hawke sat at the bar, looking pointedly at the wood it was made of. She couldn't bring herself to return to the table, not when she felt like this and everyone else was so happy. She didn't want to bring the mood down. Things were already tough now, with all the tension between everyone. Thankfully, most templars stayed out of the Hanged Man—it was usually too beneath their taste. And the few that did seem to find themselves here never really cared one way or the other who was here; they were just here for cheap ale and cheap women.
"Is this seat taken?"
Hawke's heart stopped. It had been three years since she heard that voice. Three years since she felt her heart race like this. She had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't heard him come in. When did he get here? Had he just walked in or had he been watching her? Had he been there to watch her spiral into the darkness of her heart, as she did so often anymore? God, Hawke, he said something. Just turn around!
And so she did. Standing before her was the very person she had been waiting every day to see. A longing filled her heart, a longing that ripped open the void she had been very carefully trying to avoid this evening. She was at a loss for words. What had he asked? She didn't know, but he was there. Right there. He was so close that she could just reach out and touch him, finally. And God, did she want to.
Collecting her thoughts, Hawke slapped a smile on her otherwise bewildered face. "Please, sit," she said, motioning to the chair next to her.
Fenris sat, not taking his eyes from Hawke's the whole time. Hawke still had her smile on her face, trying very hard to pretend that she was alright.
"You can quit the act, Hawke. Stop smiling like everything is fine when it very clearly isn't."
His tone was concise. Clearly, he was angry with her. How dare he, thought Hawke. He had no right to be upset. He was the one that had left! And just like that, her act was over. Her smile was gone, replaced instead by anger. God, she was angry. Where did that even come from? She had just been sitting there trying not to cry moments ago.
"Are you going to say anything?" Fenris asked. His eyes were unreadable.
"Now what in the hell am I supposed to say, Fenris? 'Oh, hey, nice to see you, buddy. It's been a while'?" Hawke was seething. Her heart was still racing. She clenched her mug of ale, threatening to break the glass between her fists.
"You're angry," he stated—short, simple, to the point. It made Hawke even angrier.
As she was thinking of every possible obscenity she could call Fenris, Varric approached. He clapped Fenris and Hawke on the shoulder, "Well, well, well, and what do we have here? Haven't seen you in a while, Fenris. How ya doin'?"
How can he act like nothing happened, thought Hawke. After everything that had happened, every late night Hawke had spent crying to him about Fenris leaving, he was just going to accept him back. Just like that. Anger flared in Hawke again, and she shrugged Varric's hand off her shoulder.
"I'm leaving," she stated, marching towards the door.
The second Hawke opened the door, cold air blasted her. It was the middle of winter and the air was crisp. The anger drained from Hawke the second the door closed and she was away from the noise of the Hanged Man. She wrapped her arms around herself, beginning to tremble from a mixture of cold and anxiety over seeing Fenris again. A tear streaked her cheek and she immediately wiped it away.
The door opened and, for a moment, the noises of the Hanged Man crowded her. She held herself tighter, trying to build a wall between herself and what she knew was coming when the door closed. It didn't take long for it to swing shut; and again she was enveloped in a muffled silence.
"Can we talk?" Fenris asked, coming up behind Hawke. He knew she didn't want to look at him and he didn't force her to.
Hawke sighed, turning to him. She steeled herself against the void opening ever wider in her chest. Her throat was tight as she choked back everything she had wanted to say. The smell of him washed over her—a mixture of spices that she could never quite place. She inhaled, steeling herself, then looked up slowly.
The first thing she noticed was that he was leaner. He had always been lanky from years of running from the slavers that were trying so hard to take him back to his former master, but now his arms were tighter, more toned. Had he found somewhere to hide so that he could rebuild his strength? She wanted nothing more than to just touch him, to run her fingers gently over his tattoos as no one before her had done. She knew she couldn't, though. He wouldn't even let her touch him during their night together three years ago, so why in the world would he let her touch him now?
God, she had missed him. The feeling welled up inside her, replacing the anger she had felt so strongly just a few moments ago. She still couldn't bring her eyes to his. She knew if she did, she would just fall apart.
She leaned forward, touching her forehead to his shoulder. She could feel him tense at the contact. His hands balled into fists, and he fought taking a step back. Hawke trembled, closing her eye to prevent herself from crying.
"Can we go somewhere private?" she finally asked. It wouldn't do to have the citizens of Kirkwall see their champion (God, Hawke hated that phrase) a fumbling, bumbling mess.
Fenris nodded and took a step away from her, heading in the direction of Hightown—probably to his mansion. Hawke followed silently, her arms still crossed over her, holding herself tightly so that she wouldn't fall apart. The walk to his mansion was silent. Fenris would occasionally glance back, making sure Hawke was still following him. Otherwise, there was no interaction between the two.
It didn't take them long to get to the mansion. Once inside, Fenris led Hawke into the main study she used to always find him in. He started a fire in the hearth, instantly bringing warmth to everything except for Hawke. No amount of heat could warm the chill she was feeling.
"Please, sit," Fenris said after a moment. Hawke complied, sitting with her back to the fire so that she could try to warm herself. Fenris sat at the head of the table next to her. Everything was quiet between them again. Fenris was studying Hawke, trying to get a feel for how she was feeling. Hawke was studying the table, trying everything in her power not to look at him.
Finally, Hawke decided to break the silence, "Why did you leave?" she whispered, her voice breaking at the end of her question. A tear rolled down her cheek, then another. There was no way she would be able to hold them back now.
Hawke heard a sharp intake of breath from Fenris when he noticed the tear fall. She let her eyes turn to his face finally. His eyes—normally so unreadable—were filled with hurt. Hawke felt a sob coming. She hadn't seen him in so long, yet knowing he was hurting hurt her even more. She wanted nothing more to protect him from anything that could hurt him. Yet here she was, being the one to hurt him.
"Hawke," he began, "leaving was the hardest thing I've ever done."
His voice broke after he said it. He cleared his throat and looked away finally, down at his tattoo-covered hands.
"Just tell me why," Hawke's voice was a cracked whisper, thick with her tears.
For a long moment, there was silence. The only sound in the room was the cracking of the fire. Finally, Fenris spoke.
"I was scared," he began. He turned his eyes to hers once more. He needed her to know that he was telling the truth of things so he refused to look away from her as he continued, "I was scared because you are a beautiful, confident woman who came into my life and completely blind-sided me. I have been alone for so long. Even when I was surrounded by people, I was always alone. But you noticed me. I wanted to run right away because I knew what you would mean to me and I…I didn't want to hurt you."
He reached out tentatively, putting his hands over both of hers on her lap. He traced small circles with his index finger on the back of her hand. The touch was so innocent but Hawke knew that Fenris didn't like contact. He was doing this for her, to show her the truth and intimacy of his words. He took a deep breath and continued, "And yet I've gone and done it anyway. Hurt you, I mean. I knew what you'd mean to me and I wanted to run but I didn't. You asked me not to go after..our night together..and I was so happy..but I knew what I would do. And sure enough, I did. I hurt you, just like I knew I would. Hawke, I'm so sorry.."
There were a million things running through Hawke's mind. She had thought over their reunion a million times—what she would say, how she would react to seeing him for the first time in years. Everything that she had planned melted away. She drew her hands from his, wiping her cheeks with her sleeve, then cautiously put her hands over his. She felt him tense at her touch, but he left his hands where they were. It was a huge step for him, Hawke knew, and she couldn't help but feel proud of him.
"Fenris, you're right. I am hurt that you chose to leave. My life..it's been nothing but darkness since you left. I need you to know that. But I also need you to know that all that hurt that I've been feeling, for years, Fenris..all of that is completely shadowed by how happy I am that you're back."
Fenris sat for a moment, letting Hawke's words sink in. Finally, he let himself smile his adorable half-smile. Hawke loved his smile. She grinned in return and suddenly she couldn't stand being away from him any longer. She stood from her chair, kneeling in front of him. His legs had been spread, and her body fit nicely in the space. He watched her-tense, unsure, nervous-but he allowed it. Slowly, she closed her eyes and tilted her mouth to his. His lips were soft against hers. She felt his uneasiness slip away, his body relax. Hawke sighed. She had been waiting so long to do this. She finally was, and she couldn't help but feel that everything in this moment was perfect.
He broke the kiss after a moment, reaching his hand up to run his fingers through her hair. He leaned her forehead against hers, letting his hand rest on the side of her neck.
Hawke relaxed against him, letting the span of a few minutes pass before she opened her eyes. His eyes were still closed, but opened slowly when she finally spoke:
"Don't ever leave me again, okay?" she said, studying his face, his reaction as she said it.
"I wouldn't dream of it," he whispered. He angled his head, placing a soft kiss on Hawke's forehead. This was where he needed to be—near Hawke, always. He was home.