Hawke's cheeks burned as she took tiny nibbles of biscuit. Gradually, the storm in her stomach calmed and she sank back, resting her head on the edge of the tub. In her peripheral vision, she could see her companion moving about her room. "Are you snooping?" she asked weakly.

"Not exactly." He brought the stool from her vanity, and she glimpsed her hairbrush resting on the padded seat. Settling himself behind her, he eased the brush through her messy curls.

Her instinct was to protest, but it felt divine. She sighed softly as some of the tension melted out of her neck. "I thought I didn't need to be coddled."

"This isn't coddling, this is a public service. Have you looked at yourself lately?"

His teasing tone made her mouth twitch, and she tried to splash him but the water ended up hitting her own face.

"You should settle down before you drown yourself," he said, his voice stern over barely withheld laughter, as he drew the brush through her hair again. "That's better. Down you go," he instructed, and she obligingly dunked her head under the water and let him shampoo her hair, her scalp tingling from his careful ministrations.

She sat up to wash, wincing as she glided the soap over her sunburned arms.

"Maker, you are a mess," he said, cringing.

"I really am," she agreed, looking at her torn and blistered fingers. "What am I going to do?" she asked quietly.

"Tonight, you're going to sleep it off, and tomorrow you'll start again. It won't be easy, but you'll do it. You're strong."

She met his eyes for the first time since he'd arrived. "Do you… have you ever…?"

He nodded, his eyes dark with memory. "I never really knew my family, but I had a friend once… He gave me a better life than the one I was meant for. And I should have been there to save him, but I wasn't." He swallowed hard. "I never even got to say goodbye."

Hawke bit her lip, remembering her mother touching her arm with a stranger's hands, but it was still her face, still her voice saying I love you. "I got that. At least I got that."

He held his hand out to her. "Come on, let's get you to bed." He politely looked away and handed her a towel.

As she dried herself off, she stifled a giggle at the absurdity of this act of chivalry. "Thank you. For… everything." She slipped into a clean nightgown and sat on the edge of the bed, towelling her hair.

"Yes, well…" he glanced around the room before giving her a small smile. "The change of scenery was well worth it."

"Will you stay?" she asked impulsively.

He blinked at her. "What?"

She dipped her head, embarrassed. "I just… I don't want to be alone."

Crossing his arms over his chest, he gave her a small but formal bow. "Mistress mine, my will is thine." He undressed, folding his clothes neatly and laying them on the low bench by the door, and climbed under the covers with her.

She felt suddenly shy, nervous. "Do me a favor?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

"Of course," he smiled, tucking his arms under his head.

"Be here when I wake up, alright?"

He reached over and brushed a damp tendril of hair away from her cheek. "I'll stay as long as you like," he promised.

"Thank you," she whispered, resting her head on his chest.

Hawke awoke screaming, drenched in sweat. When she felt a hand on her shoulder she reeled away in a panic and fell out of bed.

"It's me," said a familiar voice.

With a shaking hand she lit the candle beside the bed, illuminating her companion's worried face. She shook her head, her breath coming in short gasps. "Sorry."

"It's alright, he assured her, offering a hand.

She let him help her back into bed, but when he tried to put his arm around her, he stiffened.

"Do you want me to go?" he asked, only the barest trace of hurt in his voice.

"No!" She grabbed his arm, her grip desperate, panicked. "Maker, no. I just…" Her voice cracked. "Yesterday… no, probably not yesterday. I don't know. But I went to the dining room, and it hit me that I'd never see her again, and -" she choked back a sob, "- and I was relieved. Maybe even glad." She turned her wide, tear-swollen eyes to him. "What does that make me?"

He reached out tentatively and cupped her cheek. "Human. That's all. Just because you didn't love everything about her doesn't mean you didn't love her. You're remembering her for who she really was, not some sugar-coated ideal. Don't you think she'd want that?"

"Probably not," she chuckled, her voice shaking.

"Here, lie down," he instructed. She laid her head in his lap and he stroked her forehead, her cheeks, her increasingly heavy eyelids.

"Why are you doing all this?" she murmured.

But she drifted off before he could answer.

The soft light of dawn filtered through a gap in the drapes, falling across the bed. Hawke lay there for a moment, watching the band of light rise and fall with her companion's deep, snoring breaths. Myriad conflicting thoughts besieged her, not the least of which that she'd never woken up to a man in her bed, and so she didn't know what to do next.

He had come here for her, worried about her. He had shaken her from her mire of misery and self-pity and dragged her, kicking and screaming, back to reality. He had stayed the night, comforted her, helped her sleep. Only a fool would believe that he did these things out of casual interest. The more pressing question, however, was if it was him that she had wanted, or just the solace of another person. As she reached over and cautiously brushed his tousled blond hair away from his face, something small echoed deep inside her and she realized she wasn't sure of the answer.

And I don't even know his name, she reminded herself.

She slipped out of bed, retrieved a dressing gown from the armoire, and slipped out into the hall. Outside her door, there was no evidence of the mess she'd made last night. She cringed as she recalled the debacle; what had possessed her to catch it in her skirt?

"Good morning, Messere," Bodahn greeted her as she descended the stairs. "It's good to see you...that is..."

"Not wandering about piss drunk? It's alright, I've been awful and I know it. And I owe you all an apology."

"Of course you don't, Messere. We know you're having a rough go of things."

Orana peeked her head around the corner. "Are you feeling better today, mistress?"

Rubbing her forehead, she groaned inwardly. "Much, thank you. And I am so very sorry for the mess."

"Oh no, please don't. It was no trouble. I'm still working on your dress, but -"

"Please don't worry about the dress, Orana. It's not worth it."

The girl frowned, looking - like usual - as if she'd done something wrong. "If you're sure…"

"I am," Hawke assured her.

"Would you like me to make breakfast?"

She smiled. "That would be lovely."

"For both of you?"

Over Orana's shoulder, Hawke could see Bodahn's look of surprise. "Yes, thank you."

The girl flitted off into the kitchen and Hawke headed back upstairs to wake her guest.