For a CMDA Mid-Year Exchange - a gift for Hatsepsut. :)

Thanks to Marillya for beta-reading this.

Memories

The first time Fenris met the annoying elf was in a dark cave, when he was exhausted and covered with blood of the Varterral; the elf emerged from behind a rock, where he had been hiding, watching them fighting the huge monster as if it was a show arranged for his amusement. Perhaps he truly believed it was – he looked like an apparition of Dalish creators, or at least a prince of Arlathan. There was not a speck on him. He was so shiny Fenris had to squint his eyes: shiny honey-colored hair, shiny black leather booths, and shiny, pearl-white teeth when he smiled.

It made Fenris painfully aware that he himself was drenched in sweat and covered from head to his bare toes in sticky blood, and that his ruffled hair was sticking up in all directions. A very satisfying image of the annoying elf tied and roughed up as they gave him to Nuncio crossed his mind; before he could fully savor it, Isabela squeaked in pleasure and it was clear it wouldn't happen.

He would be more surprised if Isabela didn't know the man, but Hawke was acting as if it was something new. As if they didn't meet at least one of Isabela's previous lovers every week. When she invited Zevran to Hawke's mansion and bedroom, Hawke glared at the elf as if he was evaluating into how many pieces he should cut him.

"Thank you, Bella mia, you know it is all I desire," said the sly elf with a wink, "but the Champion has not yet decided if he will kindly let me live. It would be rude of me to accept it before he does, yes?"

"Ah, do not worry! Hawke would never kill my good friend, would you, sweetheart? I am sure the two of you will be close friends soon enough. Do not let him fool you, Zevran. My sweet Hawke may seem like a prude at times, but he is in fact a wild beast."

If the said beast was an angry bull, then it was true. He was shaking his head and rumbling softly already; it was just a matter of time until he would paw the earth and charge.

Zevran sensed the danger and quickly excused himself. But he would gladly meet them all in the Hanged Man; he would love to get more acquainted with Isabela's other friends. Here he flashed another shiny smile at Fenris.

Perhaps he should stay away from the inn for a few days.

oOo

In the next days, however, it seemed the annoying elf was everywhere. In the Hanged Man, singing dirty songs. At the market, buying things right at the next stall. In Hightown, visiting an acquaintance. In the Chantry, shamelessly flirting with giggling sisters. Wherever Fenris went, Zevran was already there, always ready to flash those unreal white teeth at him.

"Ah, Fenris, my friend! Fancy meeting you here!"

For first few days, he believed it was just a coincidence. but after a week it was so obvious, even Merrill got it.

"Oh this is sweet! Fenris has an admirer!" she said giggling.

"I do not have an admirer."

"You do! I saw how he looks at you."

"There's nothing to be ashamed of, sweetie," Isabela purred. "You are a sexy man; I'd be more surprised if Zevran didn't admire you. If you need any assistance, just let me know. I will gladly give you both a hand."

"Isabela!"

"Don't be so boring, Hawke. You could do with some excitement in your life, like–"

Fenris decided he didn't need to hear that, and the next moment, he was gone.

oOo

Since that day, everyone seemed determined to put him and Zevran together. They were all full of advice and tips and recommendations, until three days later he decided that the next person who said that he deserved some love in his life would have their heart removed. So he decided to get out of the town for a few days; Hawke didn't really need him, anyway. There was one nice spot at the Wounded Coast where he liked to go – to brood, as Varric used to say. Surrounded by rocks, with a little cave nearby, it was perfect for days when the noise and crowds of towns were too suffocating. And if there was anything urgent, they knew where to find him.

He took some food, nothing special, only bread, cheese and few bottles of Agreggio Pavali, and left, looking forward to the bliss of silence and peace.

But when he got there, the spot was occupied.

Someone was lying on his favorite rock, sunbathing. Someone shirtless, tattooed and, he had to admit, very sexy.

"What are you doing here?" he asked instead of hello.

Zevran gave him a lazy smile. "Enjoying the sun. I love this place. It is almost like home. But what are you doing here?"

Fenris' lips twitched. Escaping from you and other annoying fools. For a moment, he was tempted to say it aloud, but then he thought better of it. "Never mind." He turned to leave; no reason to stay here now.

"Wait! Please do not leave on my account. I'll be leaving soon, anyway," said Zevran quickly. "I just wanted to have lunch, before I go. Why don't you join me? And then you will have this lovely place all for yourself. What say you, hm?"

Fenris thought about it for a moment. How long could a lunch take? Half an hour at most. Then he would have his peace and solitude, as he wanted. Yes, it was definitely worth it.

"Wonderful! The fire should be ready soon... how do you like your fish? I have some herbs here..."

"Do you always carry half the kitchen with you?" asked Fenris, unable to hide his amusement, as he watched Zevran preparing the meal.

Zevran laughed. "I travel much, but I don't like the food in most inns," he explained. "Bland and slimy, most of the time."

He couldn't argue with that. But it never inspired him to learn cooking. The only decent meals he had was when he was invited to Hawke's. "Shall I help?" he asked after a brief moment of hesitation.

"Sure. Here, cut these herbs... look, like this." Zevran smiled at him, as if things like these were natural. Perhaps they were, for him. He had never been a slave.

But it was easy to talk to him. The meal was prepared, eaten and long forgotten, and yet Zevran was still there, showing no desire to leave. Fenris didn't mind; he realized he enjoyed talking to Zevran. It was nice, talking to someone who didn't try to convince him that he should forgive the mages, or change his life, be more open to people, believe in the Maker, find a lover, blah blah blah. One would think that after all these years of unsuccessful attempts to change him, the others would realize he was not interested, but it seemed it only motivated them more.

Not Zevran. When the subject mysteriously shifted from his adventures in Antiva or with the Warden to Fenris himself, he listened. Nodded. Sometimes laughed, or teased him. But never tried to push forward his opinions. And he didn't like Anders. For a moment Fenris suspected Zevran said that because he knew that he detested the abomination. It was hardly a secret, after all. But it was not so.

"If it was up to me, that ingrate would be dead," explained Zevran calmly. "Theron saved his life, you know. Helped him to find and destroy his phylactery. Gave him his freedom back. And then, after the battle, when Theron needed him most, he pretended to be dead and ran away. When Nate reported he was here, several of us offered to bring him back, but Theron refused. No use to keep him as a Warden against his free will, he said. Theron is like that. Values freedom more than anything else."

"You seem to like the Warden a lot."

Zevran looked at him, surprised. "If I like him? That man didn't only save my life, he changed it completely. Before I met him, I was... I was a slave who was trying hard to pretend he was free. He showed me what the real freedom was."

"You were a slave?" asked Fenris, bewildered. It was difficult to imagine Zevran, so cocky, arrogant, even, to bow before another man.

"Still am, technically." Zevran shrugged. "The Crows never officially released me. That is why they try to capture me, no? Can't live with the fact that someone escaped from their clutches."

Fenris felt oddly betrayed. He couldn't help thinking that Zevran was mocking him somehow; that behind all this friendliness was just another attempt to show him how pathetic his life choices were. "You don't look like a slave," he mumbled almost accusingly.

"Ah, that is the best part of it. You see, the Crows are not your typical slaves. We are carefully trained and educated, to be able to mingle even with the nobles, if necessary for a mission. They invest a lot into each of us. We are still slaves, of course, tools they can use in whatever way they like, break us or destroy us at their whim. But we are expensive tools," he explained with a wide grin. "And now I'm using all those expensive investments against them. I always wished I could see the face of my former Master the moment when he heard that the hunters he sent after me were all dead. Theron sent him a message."

"What was in the message?"

"'Please do not send more dumb Crows after me. Killing them is so annoying. If you have to, send intelligent ones like Zev, who will join me.'"

Fenris laughed; he was starting to like the Warden Commander. "Are all Fereldans this arrogant?"

"Only the best ones," said Zevran, laughing.

Zevran moved the topic back to the Warden, and then to the Dalish, and the funny misunderstandings on both sides, when they adopted him as one of them. Fenris didn't say much more. He enjoyed Zevran's melodic voice, the sound of waves crashing on the rocks, the gentle breeze on his hot skin, feeling more relaxed and content (happy, said a soft voice in his head), than he had been for... ever. He didn't want it to stop.

So of course it had to.

"Is it so late?" asked Zevran. The sun was setting already, and the air was full of cicada song. "I apologize, my friend. I did not wish to bother you this long."

"You did not bother me," he mumbled unwillingly.

Zevran seemed pleasantly surprised. "Oh? In that case, perhaps we could do this again, sometimes."

"I want to stay here for a few days," said Fenris, trying not to sound too eager. "You may join me, if you wish."

"I do." Zevran had no problem showing how glad he was. "I shall see you tomorrow, then. Have a nice night full of racy dreams. Preferably about me, yes?"

It worked better than a spell.

oOo

Zevran did come the next day, and the day after that, always with a nice meal and a bottle of light Antivan wine. The dry bread and wine Fenris brought lay forgotten behind a rock, to remain there until some foolish adventurer found it. Maybe someone like Hawke. He didn't want to return to Kirkwall, but he couldn't live at the beach forever.

Before he could start brooding properly, however, Zevran visited him in the mansion, on the very first evening. Never before had the old mansion looked so dirty and foul. Zevran was too polite to comment on the state of the mansion, or even show that he noticed, of course, but the contrast was so big that only the dumbest and blindest wouldn't see it.

Every day, Fenris felt more and more embarrassed; one evening, after Zevran left, he couldn't stand it any longer. First he washed the dishes, some of which had been dirty long before his trip to the beach. Then he scrubbed the table. With surprise, he discovered that the wood was a light yellow-brown color under the grime. Then he scrubbed the chairs and the cupboard and the floor. When he was finally finished, it was almost dawn and he was exhausted, but it seemed wrong to sleep in that dirty bed. When was the last time he washed the cover? Hm. Had he ever washed it, in fact? It would be done first thing in the morning, he decided, before he went to meet Hawke. And tonight he would sleep in the kitchen.

It seemed to him he barely closed his eyes, when a voice woke him up.

"Fenris? Fenris, are you all right? Wake up!"

He grumbled and opened his eyes. A very worried Merrill was looming over him. "I'm fine. What do you want?"

"Hawke sent me. You didn't come this morning, and you didn't come to the Hanged Man either, so he was worried."

"I overslept. So he finished his task without me?"

Merrill nodded.

"Good. I have a lot of things to do." He went to the bedroom and started taking things out. He was terribly hungry, but if he started doing anything else now, he would never find the will to do it.

"Fenris, are you sure you're all right?"

"I am. Why? Have you never seen someone cleaning their house before?"

That answer scared her even more. "I – I must return to Hawke. See you later, Fenris!"

"Whatever."

Incredible how much stuff can slowly appear in a room in just a few years. Some of the things gave him the pause, however. The picture of Andraste was probably from Sebastian, but how did Hawke's breeches get there? He was wondering what he should do with all these things when he heard someone running up stairs.

"Andraste's holy ass! She was right!"

"Language, Hawke."

"What's wrong, Fenfen? Where does it hurt?"

Hawke, Aveline and Isabela were all watching him with worried expressions, as if he could collapse and die any moment.

"Nothing is wrong. What is so strange about me cleaning the house? You act as if I never did it before?"

"You did?"

"He means before you met, Hawke."

"Very funny, Isabela. Now if you could all get lost. As you can see, I am busy," he snapped, "I want to be finished before the evening."

Hawke, however, didn't show any sign that he was leaving. "Why? What will happen in the evening?"

"I think I know," said Isabela with giggle, when he didn't reply. "Zevran, will come to visit him again. Isn't that right, Fenfen?"

"That's none of your business!"

"Ahhhh, it's looooove! Our little Fenfen is in love!"

"I'm not in love."

"And he's changing his whole life –"

"Shut it, Isabela."

"Don't snarl at me like that. We only want to help. If you want to have it done by the evening, you'll need us, after all. You will especially need a woman's hand to get this all clean. Isn't that right, Hawke?"

"It is."

"Of course it is. I'm going to get Orana."

Things moved very quickly after that. Despite his protests, he was dragged to the tailor to get measurements taken; the tailor was paid extra to have a new suit done straight away. Then the hairstylist. And then to get a manicure. In the meantime, Orana and several other hired servants cleaned and polished everything in his house. There was also a new bed with new covers in the bedroom.

"I hate you, Hawke," he said, and he almost meant it. Hawke didn't seem bothered at all.

"We'll see if you will say the same thing tomorrow morning."

oOo

It was worth it, if only to see Zevran's surprise when he arrived that evening.

"Do you like it?" he asked anxiously.

Zevran smiled. "Indeed I do, yes. I like you no matter what you wear... or don't wear, for that matter. But you are a marvel like this," he said slowly, with strange shine in his eyes.

He continued looking at Fenris like that the whole evening. During the meal, and during washing the dishes together – Zevran's idea, of course – and while he was telling Fenris more stories, sitting on the floor near the fireplace, the stare was more and more intense. Fenris wasn't blushing, he was never the blushing type, but it made him anxious, almost shivering in anticipation for – but someone like Zevran would never...

"There was something I wanted to ask you," said Zevran suddenly in unusually serious voice. "Do you like traveling?"

He blinked. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I'm asking, because... I will have to go back to Ferelden, soon. Theron is expecting the report from me. I wanted to ask if you would like to go with me," explained Zevran. "As a friend," he added quickly, when he saw Fenris' look. "Do not worry. I will never ask more than you are willing to give."

There was a hint of sadness in his voice, as if he was already preparing himself for rejection. It was so unfitting to Zevran, and Fenris didn't want to hear it again.

"And if I am willing?" he asked, and put his hand on Zevran's hand. Zevran looked at his hand, then looked up to meet his eyes, a wide grin spreading over his face.

"Then I will do my best to make you happy."

Fenris didn't remember if he had ever kissed anyone before, but he was sure that even if he did, it couldn't match Zevran's kiss.

oOo

For a few hours, he believed he could be happy. But Danarius ruined it. Even after his death, the accursed magister was ruining his life. It was useless. He could never escape his past. The memories of Danarius spoiled even this precious moment. He got up and put on his armor as quietly as he could. Better to leave and hide somewhere until Zevran was gone, back in Kirkwall. Zevran deserved someone normal, not a ruin like him.

He hardly made two steps when a pair of hands wrapped around his waist. "Wanted to leave without a goodbye kiss?"

"When did you –"

Zevran turned him around and kissed him. "You're going on another mission with Hawke, yes? I will not waste your time. Just tell me if you'll come with me to Ferelden."

Fenris hesitated. It would be easier to lie... but no. No, Zevran deserved the truth. "I can't," he said. "It has nothing to do with you," he added when he saw look on Zevran's face again. "It's all my fault. My past... I can't overcome it yet."

Anyone else would pry and insist on answers. Zevran remained quiet, and that hurt more than anything. It was as if the windows on a house suddenly all closed and all lights died.

"I wish I could go with you, but... I can't. This is too fast for me."

"I see." Zevran let him go and stepped back. He was smiling, but it didn't reach his eyes. It was just an empty mask. "As you wish. I shall not ask for more than you're willing to give."

It sounded like a personal prayer. Or a curse. Fenris desperately wanted to say something, but instead, he stood there, watching Zevran picking his things from the floor, dressing himself, walking to the door, reaching for the doorknob -

"I wish you luck, my friend."

And then he was gone, and Fenris wondered if he would ever able to forgive himself.

oOo

The others had many questions; they wanted to know what had happened. He didn't tell them anything, and after few days, they gave up. Whenever he could, he went into the wilds, alone, only with a bottle of brandy. Before, he would shut himself in the house, but now it reminded him of Zevran. He still remembered every touch, every kiss from that night as if it was yesterday.

Days changed into weeks and then months, but he barely noticed. All were equally gray and empty.

He noticed Anders didn't join them on various missions any more, but he didn't care enough to ask what was going on. He had enough of his own problems to worry about an abomination.

Until the day when Anders blew up the Chantry, which was rather difficult to ignore. Hawke decided to side with the mages. The memory of his father and sister mattered more than Anders' crime, or Merrill's foolish pact with a demon. Fenris decided to side with Hawke; after all Hawke had done for him, he couldn't abandon him in such crucial moment. So he was at his side, when they fought their way through the Kirkwall, through the Gallows, when Orsino suddenly went crazy and transformed into a hideous abomination.

And then, finally, Meredith.

His head was swimming. Too much blood loss, probably. Who knows what is Zevran doing now, he thought distractedly as another huge statue of a slave jumped down from its pedestal and ran towards him, ready to crush his skull.

The blow never came. Someone pulled him aside, shoved him behind a pillar and thrust a potion in his hand.

"Here, mi corazon, drink this. That's a good boy. No, don't move. Stay here, yes? Just sit there and watch me perform for you."

The person looked and sounded just like Zevran. He also smelled like Zevran. But it couldn't be Zevran. It was a trick of demons. Had to be.

"You can't be here," he told the strange demon. "Why would you be here?"

"I came back for you, naturally. Now, stay there and let me finish this, yes?"

The best proof this is really a fade demon, he thought, and then he knew no more.

oOo

He woke up in an unfamiliar bed.

"Where am I?" he asked, trying to sit up.

"Don't get up," said a familiar voice next to him. "We're in the house of a friend, no need to worry."

"Zevran?"

"In the flesh."

"You're not a demon?"

Zevran laughed. "I have been called many names, but this is new. Hm... I like how it sounds. You can call me demon, if you wish."

"And the others?"

"Alive and well, more or less. You're the only one who overslept. They are right next door; I can call them, if you wish.

"Not yet." He lay back, and closed his eyes. Right now, he was too tired for their meddling questions; because there would be meddling question, especially about Zevran. There was one question he needed to ask before he could sleep, however.

"During the battle, what you said...was it true?"

"It was. You said it was too fast for you, so I decided to come and ask if –."

"Yes."

"What?"

"I can't bear living without you."

As Zevran kissed him, he tried to remember why he had been so scared when Zevran first asked him to go.

He couldn't remember.