The Danger of Touch

By Ambrel

"Housecleaning"

"It's so big!"

For the third time in less than a quarter hour, I wanted to snap at the blood mage. She stared at the walls and peeling plaster with eyes wide as plates, then skipped across the wide open chamber that was the main room in the Amell manor.

Hawke walked into the room next, followed by the rest of the misfit brigade. No one looked especially comfortable, except for Varric. Everyone was dressed for manual labor. Even Isabela. Color me surprised.

I watched Hawke. She ambled around the chamber, touching a desk or trailing her hands over the mantle. Her expression was miles away and I could only guess where her thoughts were. Perhaps wondering what her sister would say? Or even her father?

The house was dirty, in that disrespectful, unkempt way that squatters had. I should know; I'm somewhat of an authority on that subject. The great rug that claimed most of the floor space stank of mildew and had suspicious stains. The plaster that was flaking from the walls created coarse piles of grime in random spots on the floor. While the stairs looked sturdy enough, there was an oily sheen that spoke of old violence across the boards.

Varric clapped his hands together once, positioning himself in the center of the room. "Well, Hawke," he said brightly, "What's the plan?"

Hawke startled and blinked her eyes a few times. After a moment she seemed to come back to herself. "I thought I told everyone. I want to make sure this place is ready to bring Mother into it. She doesn't need to see her ancestral home looking like a squatter's den."

The abomination snorted. "In that case, why's the Tevinter elf here?" he asked. "I understand the need for help to put the place to rights, but a squatter who lives in a broken building is the last person I'd ask."

I bristled. "And someone who lives in a sewer is such a better option," I muttered.

Hawke opened her mouth to say something, but Aveline interrupted her. "Boys. Settle."

The mage turned a frown on her and I looked away. Aveline continued. "We are here to clean the place out, not decorate the home. I'm sure that Hawke's mother will be more than willing to do that part, herself. But we need to provide the blank canvas." Here, she nudged a pile of unidentifiable debris with one foot. "Hawke did not ask us here for our fine artistic sensibilities."

"Speak for yourself." Varric retorted. He glanced at Hawke, then continued, "I'm going into the parlor to have a look around."

He separated from the group and went to the side door – the only door that still hung on two hinges. As if that were a signal, everyone in the room picked a direction. Isabela and Merrill swarmed up the stairs like they were racing while Anders stuck close to Hawke. Aveline caught my eye and motioned to a loose pile of masonry. "There's some heavy lifting that needs doing right here, Fenris," she said in that steady way of hers. "Care to help me move this mess?"

I nodded, and spent the next few minutes shifting stone from the fallen column to the wagon out front that had been settled for such a purpose. On the third or fourth trip inside, I heard Varric calling out for Hawke with excitement in his voice.

Hawke went through the parlor door, followed closely by Anders. Aveline stared after them with curiosity. She rolled her neck, then said, "Wonder what they're going on about."

"No idea." I replied. "It's not really my business, anyway." I stooped to gather another armload of rock and timber scraps.

She sighed and followed suit. "Why did I have to partner up with the one person who is content to mind his own business?"

Sebastian arrived late to help, citing chantry duties. By that time, most of the scattered debris had been moved from the main part of the home, but there was still the issues of the moldering carpets and moth eaten window coverings. He'd taken one look and decided that he would take them down to see if there was a way to repair them. "These are original to the home," he said, reaching out to caress the cloth. He pointed to the gold threading that was unraveling from a familiar coat of arms embroidered at the bottom. "I've a feeling that Lady Leandra used to play under these curtains as a wee babe."

I frowned. "Hawke's mother. She was loved."

"From what I know of it, yes." Sebastian said. "Even Gamlen was a treasured son, for all he squandered the legacy."

I blinked a few times. The air in there was dusty. "I've never really had a place that was safe. Nor a family. Those things, they seem important."

"They are."

"I wonder what it was that made Leandra leave it all behind."

Sebastian pulled a chair close to the window, then climbed it to get at the curtain hooks. "Everything has its price."

A tendril of distaste wound its way around my mind. I grimaced.

The chantry brother glanced at me, then blanched. "I am sorry. That came out badly."

"It's true. Everything has a price," I spat, more harsh than I intended. I spun on my heel and nearly bowled Hawke over. Her hands came up automatically to grip my shoulders as she caught her balance.

Just as instinctually, I grabbed her wrists and pushed them away before I knew what I was doing. My heart tried to climb up my throat and Hawke just look mildly confused. "Fenris. Are you alright?"

"I am fine." I said. To my credit, my voice did not shake.

She regarded me with an expression of curiosity. Finally, she shrugged. "Alright. I was coming to find you or Aveline."

"What for?"

"Come with me. I'll show you."

The bookshelf was massive.

"You want me to move that?" I asked. "Wasn't Anders in here?"

"How do you think it fell down in the first place, Broody?" Varric snickered. Anders shot him a glare.

Well, that was amusing. I settled a look at Hawke and cocked an eyebrow, and she cleared her throat. Her cheeks pinked up some, then she said, "Don't worry. Between the two of us, it shouldn't be too bad. We just need to stand it on end again.

Indeed, the heavy piece of furniture was facedown over a pile of abused books and parchments. It was solid, that shelf. The wood was a deep honey color and I could tell that it was lovingly carved, though I couldn't see the designs because of its current position. I dusted off my hands. "Very well. Let's get to it, then."

We took position at the top of the book case and counted to three before we heaved. Varric looked on with anticipation when the shelf began to move. It inched slowly until we'd gotten our end about knee height, and I held it steady while Hawke adjusted her grip to get better leverage. She heaved upward and we pushed the thing back into place. I shook out my hands. "How in Thedas did Anders knock that shelf over?" I wondered. It looked as immovable as any boulder, settled there against the wall.

Anders growled something from where he was crouched over an old writing desk, poking through dust and papers. Hawk gave me an indulgent smile. "He climbed it."

Varric poked Anders in the side. "Who'd have known you're that flexible, eh Blondie?"

"Plenty of people," the mage noted absently, thumbing through some tome or other.

An awkward silence descended, made all the worse when Anders didn't even come out of his brown study to notice it.

Hawke knelt down to snag a handful of papers. "Want to help me sort these, Fenris?"

"Er, how about I bring them to you, and you can do the sorting?" I asked. "If these are family documents, you should be the one to go through them, yes?"

I ignored her curious look. Finally, she nodded.

We were all covered in sweat and grime by the time it got too dark to see properly. Aveline took her leave first, as she had duty the next morning. Sebastian followed, and then Merril and Isabela, both of whom were inexplicably drunk.

Varric peeled a protesting Anders from the library before he left to start the nightly game at the Hanged Man. I made to follow them, but Hawke tapped my shoulder quickly before withdrawing her hand.

I turned. "Yes?"

"I was wondering if you could help me out one more time."

"With what? I'm fairly sure there aren't any more overturned book cases or fallen masonry."

"I need an alibi." Hawke shuffled her feet, then sighed. "Mother is going to wonder what I've been up to today and I don't want to tell her about the estate until it is ready to be moved into."

"And how can I help with that?" I asked. "Truth be told, she'd probably be happier with the thought of you spending the day in the chantry than gallivanting around with a vagrant."

"Don't be obtuse. All I need is someone to point at and say, "Look, mother! I was out on a job all day today. Don't ask any more questions, because I am a horrible liar and I will end up spilling everything to you and ruining the big surprise!"

I folded my arms. "So you need me to lie for you."

"Well. In so many words. Yes."

"You have awful taste in picking accomplices," I sighed. "I have it on good authority that I am also a horrible liar."

"Oh?"

"That's what Varric says."

We stepped out onto the front step and she locked the front door with a heavy iron key. She turned and handed it to me. "I also need you to keep a hold of this for me."

I weighed it in my hand, then leaned back against the wall by the door. "Allow me to answer the question you know I will ask. I need to hold onto this so that your mother doesn't find and recognize it, seeing as it used to be in her family?"

"Pretty much."

The key felt heavy. I looked at it, and barely noticed when my brow furrowed. Hawke's fingers hovered just out of my field of vision near my hair, making me start. She snapped her hands back quickly. She cleared her throat. "What's wrong?"

"I don't like –"

"Yes, yes. Sorry about that. I meant, why did you get all broody over the key all of a sudden?"

"Oh. That." I opened a pouch on my belt and stowed the key away. "I just can't help but wonder what made your mother leave her home." I gestured at the mansion. "It's not just because it's a big house, I mean. A house, a mansion, a shack – they're all just shelters. But a home. A home is that thing that has everyone who loves you. And safety. And purpose. I haven't had such a thing myself, but I have seen it before with other people."

Hawke gestured to me and we began to walk down the path to the road. "The way Mother tells it, she left it all for love."

I remained silent.

"That's not such a bad thing, is it? To risk everything for love and for happiness?"

"Love is often confused for lust," I said, choosing the words with care. "In my experience, lust is often the affliction suffered by people who claim love. It seems illogical to leave a place of safety because, well, because someone simply asks you to."

"You don't think she loved my father?" Hawke's voice was cold.

"That's not what I said," I replied. "But just as she loves you and…" I sighed. "It just seems cruel to sever the ties to one's home in order to be happy. I suppose I just don't understand."

We turned from the high town toward the lower quarters. The day was clear and through the towering buildings, the stars had begun to come to life in the purpling sky.

Hawke twitched a lock of hair from her face. "If she hadn't, I wouldn't be here."

"And the world would be a lesser place," I said before I could stop myself.

The only reaction to my impertinent remark was a slight stutter in her step, before she resumed her normal gait. "Oh yes. Because if it weren't for me, Varric would be stuck in a cavern underground and we wouldn't be breathlessly awaiting his sordid tales of our little party."

I chuckled, glad that the tension of my comment had bled away so quickly. "Ah, yes. One day, I think I might actually want to know what he has to say about our adventures."

"He gave me a copy of his stories. I can lend it to you, if you like."

I shook my head. She watched me, curious. After a moment, I fumbled out, "Ah, I prefer to listen to spoken stories. It… well, it draws me in better than…" I trailed off.

We walked in silence. The lights of the Hanged Man came into view, and she herded me toward her uncle's abode. "Perhaps sometime I'll just read them to you," she suggested nonchalantly.

My cheeks burned. Shame? Embarrassment? Yes to both. I didn't answer, and it was too dark for her to see my face. Luckily.

Author's note:

*POKE POKE POKE*

I'm alive! I'm back! I hope I finish this one because it needs finished!

Anybody out there? Should I keep going?

-Ambrel