Chapter 11
Aveline shifted in her chair, back aching.
The baby was due soon- very soon. Poor Donnic had been falling over himself to keep her comfortable, and her penchant for working had him practically frantic with worry.
She would have to go hole up until the babe was due soon. But not before she saw Hawke and Fenris safely off to Rome.
She heard Hawke's soft steps and called to the door. "Come in!"
Perhaps it was a mistake to go see Aveline. Hawke was dizzy and nauseous and didn't know what to do with her hands.
How had were they able to keep a relationship before? Hawke has no idea what she was doing, and Aveline probably felt just as uncomfortable.
It had been far too long since they had spoken last. Aveline was giving her space, freedom. It was Hawke who didn't come forward. But now she needed the travel information and only Aveline had that.
When she pushed open Aveline's office door, Hawke had her head down timidly.
"Hello," she offered, cowed in the coach's presence.
But the redheaded wrestling coach wouldn't stand for it, and shot her a look that said 'straighten up all of you Hawkes really have such terrible posture', and it was familiar in a scary way. What was unfamiliar, however, was the size of Aveline's stomach.
"The baby," she breathed. "It's... soon, right?"
"Yes, but I'm afraid they'll have to pry me off the bleachers. We're going to state and nothing is going to stop the Guards."
Hawke looked flighty, and it was strange how the nervousness made her seem so much younger.
Aveline gestured for her to sit, and Hawke perched on the seat, wringing her hands and not meeting Aveline's eyes.
"Hawke."
Wide grey eyes snapped to hers.
"Relax. I just wanted to talk to you about the competition."
Hawke balled her fists in her lap. "I know. I'm... Aveline, I'm sorry I haven't..."
She couldn't get the words out. I'm sorry I've been ignoring you the last year, and I'm sorry that you have had to put up with Carver's bullshit and mine too. And I'm sorry I haven't been more appreciative of everything you've done for my family...
"T-thank you. For the opportunity. I won't let you down."
Hawke was a coward; when she died that's what they would put on her gravestone- 'Here lies Hawke, horribly ineffectual and completely spineless'. Then they wouldn't put her next to Malcolm or Bethany, because she didn't deserve it at all.
Aveline leaned forward, or, as forward as she could go at least.
She knew Hawke felt guilty. She knew Hawke felt responsible for the rest of her family. And she knew that Hawke had never truly came to terms with the events of the past years.
Yet Aveline believe she would. Hawke was hard, and with time, the girl would become strong.
"You could come in dead last and I would still be more proud of you than any wrestler I've ever had."
She took Hawke's hand carefully. "You and Fenris are going to be incredible. I know it." She squeezed once before releasing Hawke and pulled out a packet of papers, most white with a few important looking green ones scattered throughout.
"Decide that when I bring you back a trophy for your desk. A fat one," she added, joking a little weakly.
Aveline chuckled. "I have some things for you. The green ones detail the trip and the ones that need to be signed and returned are white."
Hawke took the papers in hand, still scared to meet Aveline's bright green eyes. She wasn't worth all her confidence and praise, and she certainly wasn't the forgiveness in those eyes.
"I'll get these forms in tomorrow. When do we leave?"
"About a month. All the dates are there, though. The last thing we need is your mother's signature and then we'll be cooking with Crisco."
She watched Hawke thumb through the packet, careful not to look to eager.
Hawke stopped thumbing through the pages abruptly.
Leandra wouldn't sign the papers, she was certain of it. She wouldn't understand, wouldn't let her go- it was two entire weeks, and the woman had melted down over Hawke's absence for one night.
"I'm almost eighteen. Why do I need her signature? Can't I just... Go?"
Aveline pursed her lips. "This is completely off the record, but if you happened to have handwriting very like your mother and I happened to not know the difference, it would seem we all come out none the wiser."
Aveline shifted as the baby kicked, "But you will need to speak to Carver, at least. Varric told you about the lodging situation?"
The sigh of relief Hawke released was an audible one. God bless Aveline Vallen, she thought passionately.
"I was only told I'd be traveling with Fenris. I assume we don't have to sleep on the streets, though I'd take it over not going."
Aveline smiled slightly. "No, we upgraded you from the homeless-on-the-streets package. But the hotel only had one room left, but it will have two beds so I hope that's alright. If it's not we might be able to find something a li—"
Hawke held up her hand. "It's more than enough," she said sincerely. She stood from the desk, a little reluctantly which surprised her. "I have to get to tutoring- a lot to prepare for and all," she explained, gathering her papers up.
"Thank you for everything, Aveline."
Aveline nodded as Hawke turned to walk out the door. "Hawke. You know I'm always here if you need me."
She paused in the doorway, hand on the frame. Aveline watched her dark hair shake as she nodded slowly, and with that, she was gone.
The next couple weeks went by in a blur for Hawke. There were forms to be signed (and forged), ridiculously awkward passport photos to be taken, and, worst of all, an entire ancient language to gain proficiency in.
It was a jumbled mess of schedules and deadlines and tutoring, but her excitement mounted with each passing day. She and Fenris spent many nights at the school, reviewing vocabulary and translating passages. When the night was over, Fenris fed her dinner (in exchange for her chauffeur services, he insisted, even though Hawke wanted to think she knew better); and she would drive him up to the lighthouse.
Sometimes she went inside with him, and sometimes they lingered in her car for the better part of half an hour. Sometimes they talked, and sometimes they didn't.
Her friends pitched in with studying and support. Isabela made a t-shirt print with the Aca-Shock logo paired with 'HAWKE' emblazoned in fierce red on the back. Merrill made her cookies of 'fortification'- Sebastian, bless his soul, compiled for her a vocabulary study guide.
Zevran offered to score alcohol and Leliana insisted on picking out Hawke's wardrobe for the trip.
Hawke didn't know what to do with such kindness, but she made a secret vow; she would win this competition, for them and herself, for Fenris and her family, and even for stupid, drunk Gamlen.
Anders hadn't spoken to her since the lunch incident. Working with him was slow and silent as he grave. As she walked into the AP Bio lab with her half of their project tucked neatly under her arm, she resolved to try and make it right.
Hawke took her seat in between Merrill and Anders.
Merrill greeted her cheerily and got out her notes as Mr. Orsino walked into the room.
Anders shifted, turning to her. "Hey."
Hawke was taken aback slightly- it was the first Anders had spoken to her in nearly a week.
"Hello Anders, Merrill," she greeted, sitting between them and setting her papers on the desk.
Anders gave her an almost bitter side glance, but did not speak again.
Well done, you've really done a number this time, Hawke.
"So I hear you're going to Rome."
What should have been a question was spat out as a resentful statement. Anders' brown eyes stared forward, hard and unblinking.
Hawke curled her fingers into a fist. Anders had fundamental disagreements with Fenris, of that much she was sure, but his blind hate for their Latin teacher was beyond reason.
And frightening.
"I am. I leave in a week."
Merrill piped in, cheerily oblivious. "We're going to see them off at the airport- Isabela made shirts!"
Anders ground his teeth together. He shot a withering look at Merrill, who shrank back slightly under it.
"And you're sure it is wise to go off with the snarling beast for two week? Alone in a foreign country?"
Hawke blanched at the way Fenris stressed the word 'beast'.
Fenris called himself the same thing, on that night that seemed so long ago where he had been drowned in wine and anguish-
Monster, he'd said.
"I appreciate the sentiment," she said slowly. "But I can handle myself."
"I sincerely hope so," Anders quipped.
He ruffled through his papers before he found his part of the project.
"Here's my stuff."
Hawke set out her own papers, frown darkening as Anders continued to fume. Merrill sat, confused by the hostility, and before long class was underway.
It was anything but comfortable, and the minutes seemed to drag on like molasses through a cold straw. Anders didn't speak again, and neither did Hawke- Merrill spoke enough for the both of them in any case.
The class wore on slowly, with Anders smoldering silently beside her.
Merrill's quiet chatter could fill only so much dead space before the trio went quiet. The final bell rang and Anders turned while packing his things to Hawke.
"If you play with wolves, you're like to be bitten," he said darkly.
Hawke slung her pack over her shoulder, harder than she meant, feeling her anger rise for every additional moment spent in Anders' presence. "Just what has he done to you, Anders?" she asked hotly. Hawke felt defensive, and she didn't know why. The only thing she did know was Anders' incessant anonymity toward Fenris was deeply infuriating and she couldn't stop her mouth.
"What has he done to me? The man doesn't believe in modern medicine! People like him are a danger to everyone," Anders spat out.
"If we put more effort into funding research, maybe we could cure the Blight- save countless- but he lets his biases color his every opinion."
Hawke stiffened; merely hearing the word Blight sent acute pain tearing through her chest.
"Don't talk to me about the Blight, Anders," she said, voice low and hushed with anger. "Fenris is one man. He does not control funding for research, nor does he prevent it from happening-"
She paused, trying to regulate her breathing.
"I don't disagree with you," she said after a while, "but you need to stop the blind hatred because you're wearing me down. And I want to think you don't hate me too."
"I don't hate you Hawke, I just strongly disapprove of your acquaintance."
The walked out of the class together but as Hawke turned to go a different way Anders stepped in front of her.
"And were Fenris to become more than an acquaintance...well, let's just say a lot would be jeopardized."
Hawke stiffened, now staring up at Anders' whose face had become uncomfortably close. "I don't know what you're insinuating here, but I'd stop right there."
The lie tasted bitter on her tongue- she knew exactly what her troubled friend was implying. But she and Fenris weren't anything more than acquaintances- and even that was shaky at times.
But he understands you. And you want to understand him.
"Just stop it, Anders. I've got to get to class and so do you- can we just forget about this?"
"No," he hissed. "Hawke you understand exactly what I'm insinuating and I know for a fact you've seen the way he looks at you."
There was no space between them and the hallway was cold, so very cold.
Hawke backed into the wall, intimidated in spite of her brave front. The other students had long since filed on to class (including Merrill, who had a penchant for being early anywhere she went), leaving Hawke and Anders alone.
Worst yet, she had no idea how to respond. Swallowing her nerves, Hawke turned her face away. "Anders, I really don't know what you're talking about. Please just let it go, okay?" she asked, chancing a small glance up at Anders only to find his race contorted with something far colder than what it had been.
When he spoke next something in his voice had shifted, becoming ineffably darker.
"Go if you want, but I won't forget this, Hawke."
He wasn't even Anders, Hawke reasoned. It was some person who ignored sense, reason, all because of a few misconceptions and falsehoods. He wasn't the charismatic, brilliant student she had become friends with.
That wasn't her friend at all.
He shuddered and turned violently before stringing away.
She let out a shuddering breath, staring at the empty space where Anders had been standing.
As she hurried to Latin, now almost ten minutes late, the words he left her with rang hollowly in her head.
I see the way he looks at you.
I won't forget this.