Chapter 4

Clack, clack, clack. Maker these shoes were loud. The one day she decided to wear pumps to the hospital was of course the day she decided to creep about it like a cat burglar. Hawke slipped off her troublesome shoes and snuck around the corner of the residential wing, her heart thumping a little as nerves began to take her.

She really wasn't supposed to be doing this.

The psychiatrists weren't supposed to be alone with patients behind closed doors without proper proceedings. Her time with Fenris had been carefully set up and controlled; that Aveline had left her was a bit suspect, but she would talk to her about it later. For now, she needed to see Fenris.

He had seemed so lost when he stormed from the room. Defeated. All Hawke wanted to do was put the pieces back together for him, but she also had to learn more. A man of about thirty should have been taught to read long before. If Danarius really had induced his amnesia, and kept him from learning, then possibility of escape was totally eradicated. Where could a man go where would be able to navigate illiterate?

What a nightmare…. Hawke checked the coast for clearance before bolting to his door at the end of the wing. She darted inside and gently, carefully closed the heavy metal door behind her. Fenris had been put under isolation, so that at least gave them some legitimate time.

Fenris looked up, instantly alert and taking in the figure in his room while drawing back on his cot towards the wall . His eyes adjusted to the light and he suddenly realized just who was in his room.

Hawke.

He looked her up and down, believing her to be a figment of his imagination until she turned to him and did not simply disappear. Fenris tried to swallow whatever was threatening to boil over inside him and resolved to sound less insane than he felt. "I believe you misplaced your shoes, Doctor."

Hawke smiled at him, a little sheepishly. "They're not so conducive to sneaking about the hospital in prohibited areas," she replied, letting the heels drop to the floor. Hawke opened her bag and withdrew the brown journal, holding it carefully and stroking the spine.

She hadn't opened it. That was territory Fenris needed to permit her to walk through. There was one thing burning on the tip of her tongue, however, and she would say it first. "I am sorry about Anders today. He acted wrongly. And, I… I didn't know."

Fenris felt heat rising in his face, a combination of anger and shame and something he couldn't quite explain. He saw the book in her hands and felt his humiliation redouble. She had probably looked at his childish drawings, scoffed at how little he understood. Fenris couldn't look at her. He didn't dare face whatever was held in those dark grey eyes.

Fenris didn't look up. Hawke knelt before him, sliding the book into his lap and placing her hands on her knees. "Oh, Fenris..." She reached up with her free hand as if to touch his jaw-

Hawke felt her heart crack as he looked away, turning from the prospect of her touch and ignoring the book in his lap. What had he done with it, if he could not write? "I... I haven't looked inside. I wanted you to have it back; it's yours," she said quietly. "Can you forgive me?"

He turned his head away to hold back the strange stirrings she caused in him. Fenris knew he didn't deserve her kindness, her trust. Yet here she was, on her knees before him, offering back what she had given him and he had callously left behind. And she was asking for his forgiveness. He should be the one begging on the floor. He was the one who had failed her.

Carefully, he ran a finger over the brown cover. She hadn't looked at it. Hawke truly was a wonder, waiting for him, guiding him and offering him time. He opened his eyes and took in her face, shadowed with only the dark of his cell and regret. "You have done nothing wrong. It is my failing," he said quietly. "I'm sorry," he breathed, barely audible.

Hawke rose up slightly, bringing their faces more level. "No, no... You don't have to apologize. Please don't. Fenris, this doesn't define you. It doesn't."

He felt incredulous and undeserving, but he yearned-

Fenris touched her hand gently, tentatively returning the trust Hawke offered so freely. Her touch did not burn like Danarius' or Hadriana's, instead it felt almost…pleasant. The sensation was enough to calm him. He pulled away after a moment, leaning back to look at the book, to touch it as he had touched her, softly and hesitantly.

Hawke's eyes followed his hands down to the journal. She flicked them back to Fenris as she studied his face. Calmer, but resigned, and his eyes were focused intently on the notebook between them now. So much indecision, so much turbulence between us.

But it looked like he wanted to speak. She could work with that. Hesitantly, Hawke began, "Do... Do you want to show me what you've done?"

He nodded and came to sit on the floor next to Hawke, book in his lap. He looked at her, took in her sad smile, and opened it. Hawke leaned in closer and the images materialized before her.

Hawke's eyes widened. A beautifully rendered sketch of Kirkwall was settled landscape on two pages of the book. Hawke could see the port, and the statues of the gallows past the low roofs of lowdown, and just a couple of Hightown's elegant, spire like rooftops. It was drawn in red marker, a color bolder than he, his favorite which he'd used for all his drawings.

It was stunning, and she said nothing for a moment, waiting for him to turn to the next page. Another few sketches of Kirkwall, places she recognized and places that she didn't. People, of varying heights and status, were sketched artfully and delicately across previously blank papers. "Fenris. These are just..." she couldn't find an accurate description. "They're incredible."

He looked at her, waiting for the other shoe to drop, for her to laugh or say she didn't mean it.

She never did.

Fenris flipped through the sketches, not realizing before it was too late that he had reached the page where he had drawn Hawke. "I, er, I do not mean to- That is, I have no wish to make you uneasy," he stammered nervously. He felt himself turn red to the tips of his ears. She would think him strange for sure now. It was too late to close it now, she had already seen. Idiot, he chided himself. He didn't know much about interacting with people, but it seemed almost inappropriate to draw someone without their consent. He hated that he didn't know what was normal. He looked to Hawke, trying to contain the apprehension in his stare.

Hawke froze. There she was, drawn to stunning detail on the right side of the page. Fenris had captured everything. The wave in her hair beside her left ear, the length in her nose and the pout in her lip that Bethany had always teased her for. The gray he used for her eyes, eyes she used to think were too dark, entirely unremarkable... Fenris made them appear sharp and intelligent.

No one had ever paid such close attention to her. She was Hawke with the big dog and arms full of papers, hustling about in a tornado of scattered to do lists and plucky sticktoitiveness. But he saw past all that. Fenris saw something in her that she couldn't see in herself. She felt her throat tightening.

This is the epitome of inappropriate, she chided herself.

Hawke carefully set the book down on the floor, and turned to the man beside her. He looked like he was waiting for her to strike him. Hawke leaned in slightly, unknowingly. "Thank you," she breathed, her voice quiet. "It is beautiful."

"Would you...like to have it?" he offered, taking in the emotions on her face. Her eyes looked ready to cry, but her expression conflicted with that, her mouth curved up and parted slightly in an expression almost reminiscent of happiness. "It is yours if you wish it."

Hawke shook her head but her smile broadened. "You should keep it. That way when I can't see you I'll be there, you know?" She pressed her hand to her mouth immediately. "That is um, assuming you'd want me here. I understand if the other day was only..."

She shook her head. Lovely, Hawke, you are a gem. Truly.

Fenris returned her smile hesitantly. "I will keep it. What I promised you. I meant it."

His words from before echoed in her head, I will protect you.

Hawke's eyes brightened slightly, and warmth spread from her cheeks down. It felt good to speak with him like this, just the two of them, no prescriptions or planned dialogue.

They were very close, Fenris realized. And she was beautiful. Hawke was nothing like Hadriana with her warm grey eyes and easy kindness. Hadriana had been the only other woman he had been in regular contact with, and she had been a nightmare. He shuddered at the thought of what she had done to him. It was... not good to dwell on those memories.

Fenris was quiet still, lost in his own memories. Hawke chanced a look, only to find him staring hard at nothing. He looked afraid too, his shoulders painfully tensed. Fenris deserved better memories than those he kept. They would get to the crux of his problems, and work for his peace of mind, but Hawke yearned to ease his pain.

"Just take a breath with me, alright?"

Fenris inhaled and turned his gaze down. The memories faded slowly, but he could not bring himself to focus on the present completely. Shadows flickered at the edge of his vision and cruel laughter echoed hollowly off the walls of the suddenly too-tight room. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to breathe as Hawke had instructed him to. "I'm sorry," he whispered after a moment, hand resting lamely in his lap, "I feel like such a fool."

"No, Fenris." Hawke laid her hand tentatively next to his, barely touching his thumb. It was roughened, callous from use, and to her surprise he did not react. "You are so many things," she began softly. "You are a survivor. You are protective, and compassionate. You're an artist. But you are not a fool."

He sneered, shaking his head. "Any chance I had to build something was taken from me. These hands were made to be weapons, crafted for killing, Hawke. I am nothing more than a tool for my master."

"You are right," she said softly, and he blanched at that, looking up. "Your hands are tools. But…. You're the master of them now. You can choose how they're used. You could sketch with them or you could kill me right now if you wanted to. You have the choice."

Fenris' eyebrows came together in confusion. He drew his hand back, coiling it away from her delicate fingers. "No. I would never- I could never- do such a thing."' Hawke was the only thing he'd found that was worthy of preservation. She was the first beautiful thing he had ever coveted.

"Then you've answered your question, Fenris." Hawke murmured. "I'll help you see all the things these hands are capable of. What you are capable of."

He nodded, unsure at first but with more certainty as he thought on her words. She smiled at him, and Fenris could feel as clearly as he could see that she was proud of him. It was a strange thing, to have done nothing yet be rewarded for his choice to do so. Still, he found himself more at ease than he had since before group. He was safe now with Hawke, far away from everyone and everything else.

Fenris' hands traced idle patterns up the notebook and down again, carefully and methodically. He stared at her, almost as if studying her. Hawke met his gaze, sitting back before taking him in in turn.

Fenris was muscled from head to toe, lean and strong. She wondered what other jobs Danarius required of him that required such strength. Hawke pulled back as she remembered his words of the other day. All the while his hand traces a mesmerizing pattern across the spine of the his journal and her mind wandered dangerously before drifting back to what he had said to her before. I've not been in a relationship. Conventionally or consensually.

"Fenris, has there really been no one else?"

"No one that I can recall," And if I have my way there will be no one else. No one save you, Hawke. "Only Danarius and Hadriana made use of my… other services. They loaned me out to whomever they saw fit as well."

He was looking at her strangely, waiting for her reaction but taking her in with calculating eyes. "I see," she said, holding his gaze, feeling keenly the weight of this interaction.

"They found it amusing," he growled, memories of torture and humiliation mixing with a sudden longing for her. He wanted to be part of the acceptance and understanding she offered. "You have never been owned Hawke," he said lowly. "I was theirs completely, to do with what they wished."

"And you could not leave."

"I had no choice. There was nowhere to run."

"You deserve so much more." She said before she even really realized.

He looked at her then, and the gravity of the moment hit him. This was his chance to say what he couldn't out right.

"I have everything I need here."

She nodded, and Fenris saw that she understood, then.

"I'm here for you, whatever you need."

"Here for me," he mirrored quietly, testing the words. "Truly?"

Hawke nodded slowly, "Yes. I promise," she said.

They both jumped up when a harsh ringing sound reverberated through the room.

Hawke bent down to see her pager blinking an angry red, and since it only ever went off when she had a high-risk patient to tend to she was immediately up.

"I have work to take care of," she said quietly. "I might not be able to see you for a little while. Just... Think on what I said?"

"I will," he said.

Hawke nodded and smiled a little, and the image burned itself into Fenris' mind.

Fenris watched the door snap shut behind Hawke, locking him in with nothing but his memories, a notebook, and the lingering echo of her.