I've planned this story for 12 chapters + an epilogue, and I've already written the first few to keep ahead of schedule. On Ao3 I've tagged it with the "graphic depictions of violence" tag but while there's blood and such in a few chapters, there's only one specific chapter that the tag really applies to and I'll give you a warning at the start of that chapter.

The AU is basically 1950s-ish Kirkwall, without magic but everyone still has the same race (so Fenris is still an elf, Varric is still a dwarf, etc) and as soon as the idea came to me I had to write it!

Enjoy ;p

Fenris didn't believe he would ever adjust to the sight of a dead body. He didn't feel nauseous, or even distressed. Instead he was unsettled, as though his skin crawled at just the thought of the willful disrespect of another person.

In another way, however, he hated that he couldn't take his eyes off it. The poor woman had her throat cut in a very distinct way, causing the entire area of the abandoned apartment in front of her to be painted in now dry red.

"Dear Maker, this is the third body," Aveline sighed deeply from beside him. Fenris froze before he could jump, not having realized Aveline had joined him. Tearing his gaze from the mutilated corpse, he looked toward the sheriff.

"It's the same style of killing, a brutal execution with no remorse," Fenris found himself shaking his head. "Do you admit it yet, that we are dealing with a serial killer?"

Aveline pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, then waved the photographers over to the body to record the gory details. "Yes, I admit it. Damn it, Fenris, you're the detective. What do you suggest?"

"Examine this scene like we did the last, and try to find similarities beyond the method of killing. We need some sort of link between all three."

"That's an awfully dispassionate way of talking about these unlucky women."

Fenris shifted his weight from one foot to the other, briefly unsure how to reply. He had to be dispassionate, in many regards. What else did Aveline expect? He couldn't do his job if he was spitting rage about the cruelty of the killer. Fenris knew in the back of his mind that maybe he should feel more than just unsettled and morbidly curious, but that did nothing to correct his thinking. "Have your people collect information and the body taken to the undertaker."

Nodding, Aveline ground her teeth but endured being instructed. Fenris may be pushing his luck, but he had been transferred here from Seheron at her request to investigate these murders just after the first body was found and he had the right to take charge with the investigation.

"There was a woman I know outside the apartment," Aveline mentioned just as Fenris was about to leave, having seen enough. He paused to listen. "She said that she knew this woman and I told her to wait outside. If she's still there, I suggest you speak with her." Aveline held her hand up for him to wait when he was about to leave again. A little irritated, he frowned and waited for Aveline to continue. "She can be a little difficult, but she may know something so just… weather it."

"Noted," Fenris grunted, finally able to leave. He felt as though he could breathe once he was from the apartment; the stench of blood had a particular way of suffocating the senses. He took his time making his way down the many stairs to the ground floor, looking for any discrepancies he hadn't noticed on the way up. There was nothing out of the ordinary, no splatters of blood or abandoned possessions. It was typical of the last two crime scenes –there was no evidence outside the room, the body and the blood.

Reaching the ground floor, he passed two more police joining Aveline upstairs and made his way outside. True to Aveline's word, there was a woman waiting, leaning on one of the streetlights just beyond the apartment. After waiting for a rickety car to pass them, Fenris crossed the road and approached her guardedly.

She was watching him, gaze unwavering. She seemed to be a contradiction wrapped in a deep red coatdress, a string of pearls sitting on her collar bones peeking out from the dress' broad collar. Her black hair sat in loose coils just above her shoulders, and her lips were a soft, vivid red, a perfect contrast to her sharp blue eyes.

Fenris struggled to find his words. "Aveline said you knew the victim," he finally spoke, coming to stand before her. "Is that true?"

"Well," she flashed him a grin. "You certainly have an interesting way of introducing yourself to a woman. How about giving me your name before you begin the interrogation, hmm?"

Opening his mouth and closing it again, Fenris settled on a frown instead. This only seemed to amuse her more.

"Alright then, I'll start. My name's Hawke. Now, this is where you introduce yourself. 'My name is…'?"

He grunted his answer, "Fenris."

"Fenris," Hawke cocked her head, grin not leaving her face. "Interesting. So, you wanted to interrogate me?"

"Aveline suggested–"

"Are you going to Hightown?"

Fenris clenched his jaw. She seemed to be doing this on purpose, and taking considerable amounts of joy from Fenris' agitation. Aveline hadn't been overstating when she said 'difficult'. "Yes, I live in Hightown. Why?"

"I also live in Hightown, and it's getting dark." She waited expectantly, then leaned forward and whispered, "This is the moment you ask to walk me there."

He sighed quietly, "If I do that, will you answer my questions."

"Of course. That way, we both get something we want."

In truth, he couldn't not give in. "Would you like me to walk you?" He asked, more tersely and bitterly than he intended.

"Oh, I thought you'd never ask." She had her hand on the inside of his arm in a moment, her gloved hand resting lightly on his grey suit. Usually he would object, his tattoos warming uncomfortably at the touch, but he found himself unable to. As they began along the sidewalk, Fenris found he couldn't ignore their close proximity. Her high heels clicked rhythmically against the concrete and her body heat seeped into his. "Fenris," she said after a few minutes of silence, his name rolling off her tongue. "What is it you wanted to ask me?"

He tried to cast his mind back to the crime scene and the unfortunate victim. It did its intended purpose and sobered him enough to speak. They had her name from identification found on the body, but knew little else thus far. "How did you know her?"

"She worked at the Hanged Man. Ever been there? Terrible drinks, but the best company in all of Kirkwall makes it worthwhile."

"She worked as a waitress?"

"Of sorts. She served drinks, told people to keep their hands off and when to get out."

The first victim had worked at a drycleaners, and the second a trophy wife, neither of which had any connection to being a waitress. Serial killers had patterns, habits, motives; it was infuriating to only have the method of killing as a link. Assuming they weren't copycat killings –unlikely, since the method of death wasn't public knowledge– then someone was running rings around Fenris and Aveline's police force. "Did she ever anger anyone of note? You said she told people to keep their hands off," Fenris continued, letting his annoyance bleed into his voice.

"Constantly. But my personal opinion? They were all too drunk to remember ten minutes after, let alone recall it well enough to commit premeditated murder."

"I didn't ask for your opinion."

"You're getting it anyway, because I knew her and I know the regulars at the Hanged Man," Hawke huffed, finally showing more than just her pleasant façade. He had a feeling it was just a pretense, and glimpsing a slightly more forceful side of her. "Besides," she switched effortlessly back to bouncy tone. "It doesn't coincide with the circumstances of the other victims, does it?"

"No," he admitted. "It does not."

The apartment where the woman was found wasn't actually far from Hightown and soon the two were walking through the market square. All of the shopkeepers had locked their doors and turned their signs to 'closed', yet Hawke walked through like it was a bustling market in the middle of a sunny day. Fenris watched her out of the corner of his eye, noticing how that smile didn't dull but her eyes were ever keen.

"Where is your house?" Fenris asked, trying to distract himself.

"This way," she answered noncommittally, leading him like she had been the entire way there. He felt as though that should irritate him, yet he found he didn't care.

There was one thing, however, that was bothering him. "You don't seem upset at all about what's happened."

He felt more than saw Hawke shrug. "I can be angry at whoever did this and upset that she died, but that won't get her justice or bring her back."

She had logic like his, but for different reasons. Fenris nodded absently, accepting it. He wouldn't admit it, but he knew what Aveline was feeling when she called him out on his own reaction to the newest murder.

They eventually came to the double doors leading into what seemed to be a sizable mansion. Releasing his arm, Hawke immediately moved to where she could stand directly in front of him. She seemed to be waiting for something, her direct way of staring making him shift under her examination.

"You will need to give an official statement about your connection with the victim," Fenris informed her, his voice resonating a coldness that almost surprised him.

Something unreadable passed over her face, vanishing as quickly as it came. She smiled her usual smile and nodded. "Of course. Tomorrow?"

"That will be fine."

"Until then, goodnight," her smile widened into a grin. "Detective."

With that she was gone. Fenris stood outside the mansion for a few more moments, frowning at the doors. He couldn't decide what he should think of Hawke, yet one thing was certain –he probably shouldn't be thinking of her at all.

Then he moved away, resigning himself to going home. In truth his house was not far from here, but the prospect of returning wasn't a pleasant one. He lived alone in a too-big house, one he was renting from the previous detective in Kirkwall –he only used one room, the bathroom and the kitchen. It didn't matter, the house worked for what he needed.

Unlocking the door and making his way upstairs, he tried to run all of the information about the murders through his head. When he reached his admittedly messy room and he removed his jacket, he was immediately distracted by the perfume still lingering on the fabric. Immediately he swore under his breath and ran his hands over his face. He had spent all of an hour with Hawke and this was already happening. He suddenly needed a drink.

Not only did Hawke know Aveline, but also most of the police force. She was already at the station, in the lounge with most of the staff on duty, when Fenris arrived. Aveline immediately caught Fenris' eye as he was making his way toward his office and held a hand up to stop him. Hawke followed Aveline's gaze and grinned at Fenris.

"Hawke told me you two spoke at length yesterday," Aveline crossed her arms over her chest, regarding Fenris with amused scrutiny. "Should I take her statement or would you like to do the honors?"

Fenris snorted. "I will."

Hawke seemed to know when it was her time to emerge. She was wearing softer colours today but the distinct red of her lips remained. "Are you talking about me, by any chance?"

"Fenris said he will take your statement," Aveline narrowed her eyes at Fenris. She briefly touched Hawke's arm before disappearing into the staff lounge and telling everyone they needed to get back to work.

Without saying anything, Fenris led Hawke to his office. It was small but tidy and serviceable, and he sat behind his desk with Hawke opposite. While Fenris wrote down what he needed to know about the victim and Hawke refreshed his memory, they didn't deviate from the topic. It was only when they were finished and Hawke got up from her seat that things changed. Fenris stayed where he was, stupidly believing for a moment that she was standing to leave. Instead she made her way around the desk, her walk that of a predator's. Beside Fenris now, she leaned against the desk and looked down at him, her head tilted to one side.

"Do you know what I'm thinking?" She asked, unable to remove the smirk from her lips.

"I have no idea."

"Perhaps you should ask me out somewhere. Hell, you may even enjoy yourself."

She was waiting for a reply, watching his every movement. Fenris automatically went for the evasive answer, "What about the consequences of asking someone who is basically a witness on a date?"

Hawke's eyes flashed with glee and he knew immediately he had fallen into a trap. She leaned forward and lowered her voice to a whisper, "Fuck consequences."

Fenris almost found himself smiling. In the back of his head, he knew that this couldn't possibly end well, but when has that ever stopped him?