A / N - a bit of angst/ violence in this one! Hawke x Fenris - he tries to make amends but does Hawke still want him? thanks to everyone sticking with me so far!
Chapter Twelve
Anders left the estate, his mouth burning from where Hawke had kissed him. It was only a friendly peck, he knew that; a way of showing her appreciation, he told himself. Of course he still had feelings for her, but forced himself not to read into anything that wasn't there. Her mother had just died so it was understandable if her feelings were here, there and everywhere. He would expect her to be confused, to not know how she feels from one day to the next – though he couldn't help the affection he held for her deep in his heart. When she left the room he saw the surprise registering on her face as if she couldn't quite believe what she had done.
"We're just friends," he muttered to himself firmly as he entered the familiar squalor and shabby surroundings of Darktown.
The sooner he accepted that, he thought, the better.
Over the next few days, each of Hawke's companions visited her, one by one. She couldn't face leaving the mansion for very long; the bustle of Hightown and its cheerful inhabitants felt almost too much to bear, and hadn't partaken in the party's usual Wicked Grace nights. First Merrill visited, then Varric followed by Aveline, and then Isabela. The pirate's idea of cheering up Hawke involved far-fetched stories and several sexual escapades gone wrong. It helped take her mind off things at least; yet she couldn't help but feel slightly wounded that Fenris hadn't shown. Following Isabela's departure were a few days of silence, couple with loneliness. Admittedly she felt a lot better in herself and could now go a whole day without bursting into floods tears, of which she was proud about. It was true what people said: time is the best healer. Anders had kept away, too, which further added to Hawke's worries that perhaps kissing him was too far. She didn't know what had come over her. She just felt immensely grateful to have a friend at the time, but will Anders continue to see them as such now, considering their history?
One afternoon, whilst Hawke was cooking away, Bodahn entered the kitchen and announced his presence by clearing his throat.
"There is a man here to see you, messere," said the dwarf.
Hawke's neck snapped up. "Send him in," she replied, thinking of Anders. She felt somewhat relieved, now that she can put things right with the mage.
Someone made their way into the kitchen noiselessly. Hawke, completely unaware of another presence, continued stirring a large pot of vegetable soup made from scratch.
"Hawke," said a voice, making her jump. They spoke in a low baritone, nothing like Anders.
She swung round and faced Fenris. Her heart skipped a couple of beats as she surveyed him. He looked as divine as ever, his hair as white as freshly fallen snow. She hadn't realised the magnificent contrast of the pale hair against the olive skin until now. Hawke swallowed a few times and coughed to try and get her voice working again.
"Fenris," she said simply, acknowledging that he truly was here, in front of her and in her kitchen. They hadn't been alone together since that night in the rain. Anger replaced her initial shock as she remembered the bad note they had left on and how much he had hurt her. "Why are you here?"
"To see how you are," came his reply. He remained as impassive as ever, his olive green eyes searching her face. "I thought you could use a… friend." The last word stuck in his throat. Were they even that? He knew the anguish he had caused her. He still had feelings for her, though he despised this fact – to act on them would be foolish, he decided, and he was doubtful that she would even take him back. Deep down, however, of course he desired her to be more than a friend. By the look she gave him, this word must have felt like a slap in the face.
"I am fine," she told him curtly, turning back to the pot on the stove. She took it off the heat and left it to one side before inspecting the fresh bread rolls in the oven.
"I cannot imagine what it must be like to lose your family," he said quietly, watching her slide bread rolls onto a cooling rack. They smelled so good. Hawke merely shrugged off his condolences and still refused to look at him. "I am here for you," he added.
That did it. Throwing down a towel, Hawke swung to face him before storming over to where he stood. The elf didn't even retreat, only blinked several times as he tried to register what was going on. She was mad, he knew that. Her amber eyes blazed with a fierce fire and he would not have been surprised to have seen steam gushing out of her ears. When she spoke, her voice trembled with supressed rage, spitting each syllable like poison.
"You left, you have not been there for me for the past month," she said slowly, her teeth bared in a snarl. Fenris didn't want to admit he was afraid, but she looked positively terrifying and took solace in the fact that she was not in a full suit of armour with a greatsword on her back. Thank the Maker for small mercies.
"Do you think it was easy for me?" he asked, getting as easily wound up. Indignation overrode his fear at her words. How could she think that leaving her was easy for him?
She let out a mad cackle of mirthless laughter. "Oh I'm so sorry, I forgot that you weren't the one crying yourself to sleep every night!" She turned her back on him and began to pace the length of the kitchen, trying to work off this furious wrath burning up inside her.
"I did it because I love you!" Fenris bellowed, just about having enough. He wanted her to understand this, it was vital she did. It wasn't fair for her to think he had had it easy when it was the hardest thing he had ever done. He felt surprised with himself for a moment, having never confessed his feelings aloud for anyone before. He saw a strange look flit across Hawke's face before she continued her furious pacing.
"I don't need you," she spat as he followed her footsteps. Incensed, and rather hurt by these words, Fenris grabbed her arm to make her stay still, but it was a wrong move. She did something she had never done before; in her rage, she swung around and brought her hand up to his face and slapped him, hard. It seemed to happen in slow motion. The elf reeled from shock, an angry red welt blossoming on his left cheek. From her strength training as a warrior, it hurt a lot. Fenris did nothing. He stood limply and watched her transition from blind anger to regret. Her amber eyes seemed to melt as their eyes met and she brought her hands up to her mouth in shock.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered, eyes wide. She felt disgusted with herself.
"I deserved that," he said quietly, rubbing where she had hit him. The stinging was beginning to subside now as the lyrium in his body healed it quickly.
"No, you didn't." Hawke leaned against a wooden beam, carding her fingers through her hair. "I don't know what came over me."
Fenris slowly walked over to her. "I did. From what I put you through, I didn't deserve anything more."
"That doesn't excuse it," she snapped, irritated at his placid manner. She watched him warily as the distance between them closed. Slowly, she met those familiar olive green eyes that reminded her of deep forests. She saw the forgiveness behind them. "Did you really love me?" she asked quietly.
"I still do," he corrected her.
She stood up straight and ceased leaning on the wooden beam. Fenris's breath hitched in his throat as she neared him. He didn't back away, only watched the steady steps she took. Only when she was in front of him did she look up and meet his eyes, searching them, sensing the love there that had never left, just forgotten.
Hawke leant her head on his chest – or rather, his breastplate – and Fenris held a comforting arm around her shoulders.
"About Leandra," he began awkwardly; that was the reason why he went to her in the first place. "I am truly sorry."
Holding back tears, Hawke nodded against his chest. It felt nice, to stand there and embrace. She considered kissing him, then realised that this wasn't the time for that. They needed to talk first, clear the air. Silence settled upon them as they remained in a close position for some time.
"I missed you," murmured Fenris at last. He rested his lips against the top of her head, a sweet floral scent assaulting his nose. A smell he associated with her. He squeezed her shoulder gently, and they both felt a lot lighter, as if a weight had been lifted that day.
