* To Abess Aruba Skytalon: Thanks for following my story and for leaving another review. It means a lot. Hope this chapter is to your liking!

It had been absurdly late when Hawke entered the dark cool entryway of her home. She was tired. Dog tired. Her hair was a mess about her face, her blue eyes dull from exhaustion, and her robes covered in grime. All the lady wanted was a hot bath and perhaps a warm glass of milk to ease her into dreamland, but all Hawke got was an unexpected guest.

Seeing him, there, on the very bench he had occupied while waiting for her on that painful night almost sent Hawke reeling into a fit of panic. Was this some sort of trickery? A demon of the fade preying upon Hawke's deepest desires? When the elf spoke, Hawke pinched herself; the slight jolt of pain brought Hawke back to reality.

It took a moment to register what Fenris had said, but soon she got it. He was (as he put it) finally accepting one of her many entreaties to meet with her. All Hawke could do was gawk at him. Was he actually being serious? Why now? Why like this? And why when I look like a darkspawn brood mother? What wonderful timing he has. . . .

Trying to compose herself, Hawke smiled then asked Fenris if he'd come into her study to talk. The elf readily accepted, muttering something about, "resolving us" under his breath. Wait, was it "us" or "this" that he said? Hawke felt ill.

The conversation went smoothly enough; in fact, the mage snorted at how closely this resembled a business meeting. She almost felt like cracking wise, saying something like, "So I guess you can take the lover out of the elf, but not the fighter? Good to know. At least now, after all else has failed, I can still hire you out as a mercenary." However, such a remark stemmed from bitterness, so Hawke kept her mouth shut.

During their civil banter, the lady swore she saw cracks in Fenris's calm demeanor. It was almost as if Fenris was nervous. Sometimes, in the midst of a sentence, he stuttered and his cheeks faintly glowed pink. What also struck Hawke as odd was that those steely eyes of his rarely met her gaze. These little tics spoke volumes to the young woman. It made her hope that Fenris wasn't all business, and a part of him still cared about their relationship. That was why Hawke needed to silence his mouth from speaking anymore unnecessary garbage.

From where their tête-à-tête was headed, it appeared that all Fenris wanted to establish between them was a partnership. Hawke's stomach jolted. It wasn't fair. Frowning, the lady sighed then interrupted her guest's ongoing apologies for having ignored her and having behaved in an "unprofessional" manner. It was all too much to bare; Hawke felt like screaming, but decided to remain as composed as possible.

"By the way you ramble on Fenris, it seems you want nothing more than to erase any sort of closeness between us," Hawke mused. "Don't I have any say in the matter?" She turned to her houseguest, her voice trembling. "Well, don't I?"

She saw him jump in his seat at her words. It appeared her outburst had startled him. Good. Let it, thought the mage. She wanted Fenris's undivided attention.

"Whether you like it or not, I care for you. Perhaps it doesn't fit into your future plans, but there it is. I even. . .I even love you. Still." At this exclamation, Fenris turned towards Hawke in shock. His eyes wide with unbelief or fear, the enchantress could not tell.

Leaning against a bookcase, allowing the dust of the shelves to pass into her lungs, Hawke continued her speech. Weary, she said, "I wish I didn't feel this way. It hurts too much; far too much for me to want to admit. You broke a piece of myself when you left me like you did. To not even grant me your friendship after such. . .such. . .cockery isn't right and you know it!"

"Cockery, Hawke?" Fenris whispered, a slight hint of amusement in his voice.

"Oh, don't patronize me! Its cockery alright? One of Isabella's many words to describe your distinct lack of chivalry, if you must know. My point being, if I may return to it," choked out Hawke, "Is that I have endured too much from you to only receive this sorry excuse for an apology."

Tears began cascading down the frustrated lady's cheek. Sniffling she whispered, "We should mean more to each other than this Fenris; I should mean more to you than someone you consider a "boss" or "leader" when you need a job thrown your way. I have earned your friendship and you know it! You owe me more than this."

Freely crying, Hawke clenched her jaw. What was said was said. There was no more that she could do to convince Fenris of her feelings, as well as her wish to remain close. Her heart demanded some sort of balance; that if they could not be lovers then solidarity would have to take its place in order for the organ to live. It was all in his court now.

Turning to leave, Hawke felt strong hands grasp her shoulders. He spun her around and she faced him. The elf look pained. His grey orbs pools of discord. Abruptly, he shoved his right arm into her face. "Look," was all Fenris said.

Tattered, filthy, and smelling of sweat was a red sash wrapped around Fenris's lithe wrist. Her missing sash. A sad smile ghosted Hawke's lips. "I didn't notice it. I guess. . .I guess I figured you would have abandoned it by now."

"Obviously I haven't, have I Hawke?"

Stepping away from her, Fenris moved for the door. Before leaving he spoke. His lyrium veins slowly turning a bright silver. He said, "I'll see you tomorrow my lady. By the way you look, I'd say you could use my help hunting down those tomes you spoke of. As for what you said. . .I. . .I truly am sorry for causing you such grief. Hurting you. . .it was the last thing I ever wanted to do. I hope that you can forgive me someday. . . ."

Before Hawke could say anything, Fenris was gone. The door to her mansion slamming behind her visitor. Weary the woman trudged up the stairs to her room. Her mouth turned into a thin line. If only he had stayed just awhile longer? Shaking her head, Hawke drew hot water for her bath. As the tub was filled with buckets of water, the words "but I already have" repeated like an obscene parrot in Hawke's brain.

Groaning, the young woman pushed the words out of her head. For now, she'd dwell on cleaning herself up and tending to the cuts and bruises on her body then those that remained on her heart. It was all she could do at the moment; her guest was gone and so was her answer.