For months, every night since she returned from Weisshaupt, Fenris would awaken to make sure Hawke hadn't run off again. The night she left for the Inquisition, he awoke to an empty bed in an inn south of Tevinter. He searched that room for any sign of her, and every last item she carried with her was missing. There was a note. A simple note saying she would be back soon.

'Soon' ended up being three years.

Tonight, her side of the bed is cold and empty again and Fenris rides out the wave of nausea that washes over him. He closes his eyes, counts to ten, hoping that he's still just dreaming. Opening his eyes once more, if it's even possible, the empty space seems to grow.

He lifts off the bed swiftly, reaching for the loose trousers he left on the floor earlier in the night. The estate is cold, he shivers while he pulls on his pants and his eyes perform a cursory inspection of the room. There is nothing out of place and he starts breathing again.

He leaves the room and there is a light coming from the den. As he approaches, the warmth from the fireplace inside reaches his toes and continues up his body, melting away the concern in his bones. He places a hand on the door frame softly, not wanting to disturb her, and steps quietly into the room.

Hawke is slumped over in the chair and there are two empty wine bottles at her feet, a third in her hand. She is mumbling, but he can't hear the words. Suddenly, she is standing and raises both hands skyward and throws her head back and laughs. Not the jovial laugh that used to come so easily in the Hanged Man, but a deep hollow laugh he's never heard before. Her arms drop to her sides and she sways dangerously. She lifts the bottle to her face, squinting at the label while giving it a shake. A moment later it is shattered over the fire, the resulting blaze almost reaching her robes.

The night of triumph over Danarius was the last night they ever drank to this extreme. It was a night they both laid on the floor of the mansion, voicing their regrets, triumphs, losses. He opened his heart about why he left her those years go, she opened up about losing her mother and brother. That night he felt they finally put their demons to rest.

He needs to touch her, needs to hold her as her knees threaten to buckle, but he can't move. Whatever she's desperately trying to drown is not a demon he knows. Whatever happened in the three year absence has still not left her lips. He is helpless and unprepared, the short distance to her grows the longer he waits at the door.

Hawke's arms hug her body, her hands sliding up to her shoulders. They cross her chest and grab the collar of her robes and she pulls. Her mouth opens for a scream that does not come and tears cascade down her face. Her knees finally give out…

..and Fenris is there to catch her. The flashing blue light of his markings illuminates the room, but her eyes are shut tight and cannot see it. He settles against her back on the ground. He wraps his body around her shaking form; arms around her chest, legs around her hips and crossed under her knees, chin on her shoulder and pressing his face to her own. Her pain is audible now, the scream that refused to come earlier echoes through the estate.

She clings to his arms with a grip so tight Fenris can feel the bruises already forming. He pushes the pain to the back of his mind. He says nothing as her scream devolves into muffled sobs and eventually a soft whimper.

This is not the night to ask and it will not be the last. He gently kisses the side of her face and holds her until the last ember fades.