Chapter 1

WARNING: This story takes place in a fictional correctional facility for patients with mental illnesses. If the subject matter offends or triggers you in any way, please do not read this. Also, if relationships with significant power imbalances offend or trigger you, again, please do not read this. It is purely fictional and is not an accurate representation of these facilities or the people who live or work there. There are dark and adult themes present throughout, and I will try and mark them as they appear.

If any of this makes you uncomfortable in any way, I strongly urge you to hit the back button.

Hawke sighed and stared blankly at the thick manila folder on her desk.

Leto 'Fenris' Argent.

She looked down at the packet for a moment, too tired to open it. Her newest patient would be arriving tomorrow morning, and from the sheer volume of his file it did not seem like he would be a simple case. Hawke opened the packet, skimming through pages and pages of arrest records, court proceedings, and psychiatric evaluations.

Arrested 5/14, assault.

...sentenced to three years...

Hawke paused at one note scrawled hastily on lined, unofficial looking paper. Curious, she scanned it carefully.

Leto harbors a hatred within him stronger than any I have ever encountered in my thirty years of work. Combined with his obstinate personality, amnesia, and generally anti-social behavior, this aggressive man poses a threat to my personnel and institution.

She skipped ahead.

If you are reading this then you too are probably going to treat Fenris. I doubt there is a cure for what ails him. He does not respond well to conventional practices, and his violent tendencies make him a danger to staff and other patients alike. The only advice I can offer is to take care.

It was signed simply 'Irving' with no MD after, nor were there any other indications of position.

Anders was unpredictable enough with his worsening mood swings; Hawke was not sure she could handle another patient so violent. She straightened and looked determinedly at the file. She could do this. Merrill and Aveline would help, just as they always had. Hawke was honestly not sure if she would still be at Kirkwall without the help of her favorite colleague and red-haired nurse.

The sun was setting outside her window, a spectacular show of colors that almost always preceded dark, fall nights. Today had been less successful than she would have liked what with Anders having an episode in group session. Isabela was handsy as always, but today she had decided to pursue Sebastian who had immediately panicked and fell to his knees praying and refused to move. Varric had separated the two, thankfully, while Aveline had escorted Anders out, allowing Hawke to calm Merrill. Hawke did not like to think about what would have happened had Aveline not been around. Anders condition was worsening, the medication he was taking seemingly less effective each day.

Hawke shook her head and stood. She knew she out to get going, it was going to be an early morning tomorrow when Fenris came along.

Fenris sat silently back in his chair, slumped and with arms folded over his prison issue, black T-shirt. His number was printed in crisp white letters along the breast and sleeves: #2267. It didn't matter to him what he was made to respond to; being called by Fenris or by an arbitrary number was of no concern to him. His identity was not his own, and this was nothing new to him. Even now nothing of note registered in his mind, no memories, no sensations, no... purpose.

After the arrest he found himself directionless. Fenris understood this would continue for another three years before his master would come to claim him again, when his vocation would be shifted from inmate back to kept killer. It was only a matter of waiting out whatever may be in store for him. He was comforted slightly by the knowledge that little could be worse than what he had already endured.

He was lucky to get off with such light charges. If his master had not done such a fine job of covering up his botched mistake, he would have landed himself in a maximum security unit for a good lot longer than three years. However, questions remained. Why had Danarius not paid off some official somewhere along the line to see him freed immediately, like before? Was he not worth the bribe? What was he going to do for three years with no master to heed?

Ironic, he mused to himself. Prisons, my first taste of- of freedom. Fenris knew it was neither his role nor his right to consider such an idea, but the temptation was too great. And yet-

His master would be along for him at some point.

A strong-faced, ginger haired woman opened he heavy metal door, her mouth set in a grim line. "Your time with the doctor begins now. Be polite and don't try anything tricky." Behind her was a dark mess of hair bent over a clipboard, and a furiously scribbling hand. "I'll be right out here if you need me, Dr. Hawke." The guard shut the door behind the other woman, presumably the one sent to try and fix him. Fenris narrowed his eyes and felt his mouth turn down, immediately on edge with another person in the room.

Then, the doctor's face turned up to meet his. Slightly freckled cheeks, full lips and a strong nose became visible. And her eyes were... captivating. She was an attractive woman, the sort that made men question their beliefs and make reckless decisions. There was a flicker of levity and good intentions in the turn of her mouth, and Fenris detested her for it. Women so beautiful could never be trusted. He averted his gaze sharply, but not before the slightly frazzled doctor sent her pile of papers, files and ink splattered clipboard clattering onto the metal table.

Hawke felt herself practically glow with embarrassment. She was a professional, or at least she was supposed to be. She had the paperwork and license for it, at any rate.

"Apologies," she murmured hastily as she reordered her papers and set her coffee down. She sat across from him and finally looked up to see the greenest eyes she'd ever beheld trained on her.

He was beautiful. Tanned skin, green eyes, and silver etched upon perfectly formed muscles. Tattoos, she realized, white and artfully lain to complement the lines of his body.

Someone should have mentioned that Fenris Argent was breathtaking.

And attached a copy of fraternization regulations.

She coughed when she realized she was staring. Very professional, she chided herself.

"I'm Dr. Hawke. Nice to meet you, Fenris."

He raised a dark brow in her direction. Hawke was an interesting sort of name. Sounded a bit southern, Ferelden perhaps. Watching the pretty young doctor attempt to organize herself was entertaining enough in the moment, though a twisting in his gut kept Fenris distracted. He could not determine the unease. Perhaps it was attraction, perhaps distaste, and more than likely it was both. He nodded briefly and fixed his sights back on the table, studying the clutter. Her mug was powder blue, with a kitschy depiction of a slobbering bulldog on its front. Quaint.

Hawke took a breath and began. "So, Fenris— it's Fenris right, not Leto? If you'd like, you can just call me Hawke, no need for the 'doctor' part in front. Of course, I'm a doctor regardless but if that makes you more comfortable we can simply-" Hawke spoke a thousand words a minute and cut herself off, realizing she was babbling. He looked at her like she was the one who needed a psych eval, and Hawke almost agreed.

Fenris wrinkled his nose. Leto. It felt like a stranger's name, a name belonging to a man who was in a different world, a man who was, perhaps, free. Fenris had never been free.

"I go by Fenris," he answered after a stretch of hesitation. He blinked at her then; this woman invited him to call her by her last name? Strange, and growing stranger by the moment. "You do not have a first name?" he asked dryly.

"Well, um, my first name is very long and I've, you see, I've never really liked it. I much prefer Hawke." She hadn't sounded this awkward since high school. Hawke, you graduated top of your class in med school, youcan say your god-damn name. This strange man made her feel off-balance, unsettled. At his quirked eyebrow she decoded it would be best to simply sally forth before the conversation died of unnatural causes. "Is there anything you'd like to share before we begin? Anything you'd like me to know that may be important for your treatment?"

The flustered doctor was truly unlike any other person he'd ever encountered before. Fenris frowned at this Hawke, unsure of how to proceed. Especially as she prompted him to share. As unthreatening as this woman was, it still felt vaguely like an interrogation- though he could admittedly handle a beating better than her awkward line of questions.

"I will answer your questions. Ask them," he clipped, staring intensely into her eyes, attempting to fish out her hidden motivation.

"All right," she started gamely, looking down at her notes. "I'd like to start with your childhood. Do you have any sibling? Family?" She scanned her notes quickly. She saw no reference to them, but then again it was mostly arrest warrants and felony records in front of her. His emergency contact did not share his last name, but family situations were often complex.

Fenris faltered and he awkwardly toyed with a hangnail, running over the familiar swell of his tattooed thumb as was nervous habit. "I do not know," he replied. "I exist, so I suspect I have parents. Somewhere."

Hawke's brows came together slightly. "You...don't remember?" Perhaps he had simply blocked the memories, or this was the amnesia earlier mentioned, but it seemed odd it was not more thoroughly explored in his file.

Fenris bristled as she delivered her pitying question. "No," he supplied gruffly. "I do not remember anything before the initiation." The concern in her eyes was not genuine, couldn't be, and Fenris felt anger coil in his chest.

"Initiation? What do you mean?" Hawke scanned the files again, and realized that there were few details about his life mentioned in his evaluations.

Fenris considered his next actions carefully. He had three years in this prison to simply exist in solitude, but Danarius would come for him the moment he was out, of that he was absolutely certain. How much he divulged in the next few minutes would be telling of his fate after his sentence.

"An initiation. A... demonstration of devotion was required. I remember little of it, and nothing before it."

"What were you initiated into?" Hawke leaned forward, studying the man before her closely. Flickers of uncertainty, sadness, but his face spoke of fear as well. Hawke cared for all her patients, but something about Fenris made her wish she could give him a hug and take him home to pet Teagan.

"A family," he intoned carefully. Memories drifted through his mind. Servicing his patriarch with trembling young hands, killing his first target, begging respite from Hadriana, his 'mother' who found nothing so pleasurable as denying meals and sleep; the images flashed unbidden. "My first memory was waking in a black room to indescribable pain, 'silver fire', as it were. I was given a name and a gun."

Hawke almost missed the flashes of emotion that played along Fenris' sculpted face. Shame, guilt, more fear... Hawke was unsure about the details, but she was surprised none of this was mentioned in his files. And the violence so often mentioned seemed all but absent. The details of his life should have been mentioned. Had her files been tampered with? Edited somehow? "A silver fire, your tattoos?"

Fenris winced a bit. They were not so simply defined as body art, and to call them tattoos felt caustic and inaccurate. "Carvings," he corrected quietly. "I am unsure of how they we're administered. But they are not tattoos."

The way he had murmured carvings made her almost certain that he had not wanted them. That, in conjunction with how uneasy he looked in his own skin, fidgeting and shifting, caused Hawke's heart go out to her newest patient. "I'm sorry," she offered. "My mistake."

She figured this was as good a segue as any to broach the elephant in the room. His file said he had murdered six people, executioner style, one by one. His first psychological evaluation branded him a psychopath, a ruthless killer. But looking into his tormented eyes Hawke could not help but think that there was more to be told. "Do you feel comfortable talking about the, ah..." Hawke struggled to find an appropriate euphemism for 'cold-blooded murders.'

His gut clenched with a heinous mix of anguish and terror. She was looking at his file intently, and in it (though he had not previously cared) contained all his recent... work, done at the behest of Danarius. The weight of the gun was a memory that lingered still, reminding him of how the smoke and iron singed his eyes, how the trigger resisted his clever finger as he pulled, how the light in his victim's eyes flickered out and dimmed. Danarius would-would reward him for a job well done, and Hadriana would watch the man beat Fenris into bloody submission silently, eagerly. She would whisper all the names of their victim's families in Fenris' ear, grinningly detailing just how he was to dispose of each wife and child until Fenris could bear it no longer. "What do your papers say?" he choked out.

Fenris looked strangely vulnerable, strong shoulders slouched and fear etched into his very essence. She resisted the urge to offer her hand; that she even had the urge to touch him was wildly inappropriate. "It's all right Fenris," she said softly, soothingly, the same tone she used when Teagan was frightened. "I'm not here to judge you, only to try and understand."

Fenris' eyes darted to hers, near feral in their apprehension. The doctor, Hawke, was regarding him almost... tenderly? There was softness in her eyes that curled around his heart and almost stopped his breathing. For a moment Fenris felt the unfamiliar sensation of trust; it rolled about in his chest a tantalizing second, bidding him to comply with this stranger's request. "You cannot hope to understand, Hawke," he said lowly, in warning. It was the first time he had spoken her name. It sent a rush through him, and it tasted good on his tongue. This could only spell disaster. "I will not be able to reveal details to anyone. I will be punished."

Hawke was taken aback. His view of the world was so narrow, so colored by terror. "You will not be punished Fenris," Hawke murmured, brows drawing together slightly with concern. Her voice hardened, "No harm will come to you while you are here. You are safe, I promise you that."

Any words that were struggling to escape his throat in rebuttal withered away. Hawke had an impassioned flush in her cheeks, a stare that was both softness and steel. His heart skipped several beats and prompted the criminal to look away. There was something about her, and Fenris felt completely unarmed by her earnest promise as well as wholly unworthy of her faith in him. He believed her. He believed her without the threat of force, he believed her for no reason other than that she had given her word. Strange that that should be enough. Staring at the scratched edge of the table, he spoke hesitantly.

"The first incident I was charged with. There was a man. He was late in settling a debt he had incurred with my employer. He had taken a loan, a small sum." He barked a hoarse, bitter laugh. "I was told he used the money for narcotics, that he fancied himself a small time dealer." Fenris paused. "He…wasn't."

"What happened?" Hawke was almost afraid to ask. She had some ideas but he could only hope her imagination was running wild.

"I broke down his door," he started, and his voice wavered against his will. "There was a little girl, and..." Fenris closed his eyes, clenching his hands. His scars burned, his heart was lurched into his throat. Hawke looked so expectant, so concerned and so damn beautiful. Fenris sullied her ears with his filthy past. "I finished it quickly. The girl just stared before falling asleep. Her cheeks were wet- I didn't know, I-I didn't..."

She felt his agony as sharply as she did her own. "It's alright, Fenris. What's done at the command of another is not your burden to bear. I know it's painful to talk about, but it's a step in the right direction. I'm here for you."

I'm here for you, Fenris.

He'd heard that before. He'd heard it as a mocking comfort each time Danarius came to taunt him after a session with Hadriana. He'd heard it as one of the thugs they kept dragged him away, the meaning of the words skewed to become a threat – a threat – a threat-

Fenris felt anger rip through his chest and burn at his ears. "You are not here for me; you are here because the court ordered you to pick apart my brain, and exploit my weaknesses. Do no toy with me!"

Hawke recoiled slightly. Although his words were true, she had thought, just for a second...

Hawke straightened, tamping down the urge to shy away. "I am here because I chose to help people, Fenris, and right now you fall into that category. I don't want to toy with you or hurt you. I want to help you, if you'll allow me the chance. You can use this time to be angry, or we can use this time to talk."

Fenris looked down again. She wanted to help him, wasn't that just charming. There was a thrumming in his heart that beat frantically, and with unfamiliar heat he considered for a moment that... she may be genuine. True. Fenris clenched his teeth as the conflict roiled within him. "I carried out my orders. I did it and he was crying for his children, sobbing, pleading... My master would have had me dispose of witnesses," he whispered his eyes trained down. "But I could not bring myself to..."

Hawke looked at Fenris. The mask of indifference and hardness that she saw so many men wear was absent. She knew it was a rare moment, but it cemented in her mind that Fenris was a good man, a man who could and by the Maker would be given the care he deserved. Hawke would do everything in her power to see him hale and whole, happy too.

"You were merciful, Fenris. It's what keeps us human."

Fenris kept his eyes riveted to the floor, silver hair obscuring his visage. "I did not show that man mercy. I have no good nature that you can uncover, doctor." The word slipped off his tongue with a sour taste.

It was in that tense moment the door swung open and the ginger officer came in. "Time's up, doctor. Time for dinner."

Fenris did not look up and Hawke thought it best to give him time to process what had been said.

"Ah, yes. Well Fenris, we'll talk again soon."

He only nodded and stood as the nurse collected him, a little shaky from the violent recounting of his past. But as he walked out the last thing he saw were her eyes, grey and kind and true in a way he hadn't known existed.

A/N: Another AU! This one is considerably darker but it really just wrote itself.