Bit of a short one this time as I take a break from yard work - enjoy! Many thanks to Oleander's One for the beta!

Isabela disappeared on the way back to Kirkwall, which Lucas took as a not-so-subtle signal that she was done with their … whatever it was for the night. Could it be called a relationship? he mused, climbing the long steps up to Hightown. She wouldn't, that was for sure, but did that mean it wasn't one?

It was too complicated for his tired mind to deal with at the moment. Why did he feel such a need to put a label on it, anyway? Hot sex, a good friend to banter with before, during, and after—what more could a man really ask for?

Any mental response to that question was quashed when he closed the door of his house behind him and saw a very uncomfortable elf perched on the stone bench in the entryway.

"Fenris?"

Fenris stood up, clearing his throat as he came toward Lucas. His green eyes shifted back and forth, looking anywhere other than at Lucas as he spoke. "I've been thinking about what happened with Hadriana. I took my anger out on you, undeservedly so. I was … not myself. I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize, Fenris. In your situation, I— Well, I can't even imagine what it would be like to be in your situation, so I have no room to judge how you handled it."

Blinking in surprise—Lucas's response was clearly not what he had anticipated—Fenris said, "You are very generous."

"No. Just … there's enough in Kirkwall to get mad about. Being yelled at by a friend in his extremity—" Lucas sighed. "I guess I'm just glad I could be there for you. Do you—" He paused again and looked closely at Fenris. "Do you want to tell me about her?"

Fenris blinked, clearly surprised by the question and by Lucas's interest. "Very well." He sighed, walking across the small entry to stare at the wall while he spoke. "When I was a slave, Hadriana was a torment. She would deny my meals, hound my sleep … whatever she could think to do in order to cause me pain. And humiliation. Because of her status, I was powerless against her … and she knew it," he added savagely, his fist clenching. "The thought of her slipping out of my grasp now … I couldn't let her go."

"I'm glad you killed her, then. Sounds like she deserved it."

Nodding, Fenris turned around, facing Lucas again. His face was still troubled. "I should be happy now that Hadriana is dead … or at least satisfied. But I feel nothing but disquiet. This hate—I thought I had gotten past it. To feel it inside me again now and to know it was they who put it there …" His voice broke, and he looked down at his feet, collecting himself with visible effort. "Bah."

Lucas waited, not wanting to disrupt Fenris's attempt to gain control of himself.

Clearing his throat, Fenris offered a small smile. "I am sorry. I did not come here to burden you further, merely to apologize for my behavior."

"We're friends, Fenris. Burden away. My shoulders are your shoulders." Lucas grinned, but Fenris's smile had disappeared.

"Friends," he said softly. "I am not certain I know what that means." He turned and left, leaving Lucas shaking his head. Danarius had really done a number on Fenris—Lucas hoped someday he would be allowed to return the favor.

With a weary sigh, he went inside the house. His mother was sitting in the parlor, knitting a sock.

"That's a happy sight. Haven't seen you knitting in a long while."

The last thing his mother had knit was a scarf for Bethany to wear in the Deep Roads. Lucas hoped she wasn't thinking about that right now, the way he was, the way the bright red of the scarf had stood out against the pale mottled grey of her skin. He was glad his mother had been spared that sight.

She smiled, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. "I was worried I might have lost the knack for it, but this is turning out quite nicely. It's for a little orphan in Darktown."

Privately, Lucas wondered how useful socks would be to the Darktown orphans—most of the ones he'd seen didn't even have shoes—but it was nice to see his mother enthusiastic.

"Where have you been, darling?" she asked.

"Picnic by the shore," he said, smiling to himself at the thought.

"Must have been nice. With some of your friends?"

Listening to her, you'd have thought he was ten years old. "Yes."

"What about that girl, what was her name? Lady Lavinia? Have you seen her again, or did she go back to Cumberland?"

"No," he said, trying not to laugh. "I can honestly say I haven't seen her again … although I certainly wouldn't mind." He couldn't help thinking of the way Isabela had looked in that dress.

"And … is there anyone else who's caught your fancy?"

Lucas considered telling her about Isabela, but what could he say about their relationship that would be appropriate for his mother's ears? "Not that I can think of," he said casually. "What about you?"

To his surprise, his mother blushed. "It's possible that someone might have looked at me twice," she said.

"Now, Mother, do we have to have a talk? Let's see … there were the birds, and the bees, and when they got together …" He grinned.

His mother chuckled. "Get along with you. If anyone needs to have a talk, it's me telling you to be more serious about your life. Stop spending all your time in that seedy bar with those … odd people and settle down with a nice girl."

"I'll think about it. Good-night, Mother," he said, and strode past the parlor door. The cheery smile was gone—did she really think that was all he did, drink in the Hanged Man? Where was she every time he raised a blade in defense of Kirkwall, every time he faced down the Arishok because the Viscount was too afraid to do it himself? He was closing in on thirty years old, and his mother still treated him as though he was a careless child, frittering his time away.

Then again, he said to himself, shutting the door of his room behind him and beginning to unstrap his armor, wasn't he frittering his time away? He didn't care about any of the tasks he was given, not in any personal way. He did them because someone needed to, because he could, because it was easier to say yes than to sit by and watch other people bungle tasks he was perfectly capable of accomplishing.

Possibly, yes, because he liked the challenge. Tap-dancing with the Arishok was more interesting than taking an interest in politics, that was for sure.

Lucas yawned. He wasn't going to figure it all out tonight, or tomorrow for that matter. For now, a good night's sleep, and then he'd see what the next day brought.

The first thing it brought was a note from Aveline, in her aggressively messy handwriting.

Hawke –

This was all incredibly stupid, and you made it wonderful. I was mute, and now I want to sing! I can never repay you for all your help. Perhaps it's simple—thank you.

I'm sure there was at least one moment where you thought I was beyond all help, but you helped me anyway, just as you have since the day we met. I'll always be here for you … just, knock first.

Aveline

P.S. If you don't get that damned Templar Emeric out of my hair soon, I take it all back.

He grinned. Aveline hadn't been where his heart lay after all, but he still cared for her, and he was very glad to see her happy. He was less glad to be reminded of Emeric. The odds that the Templar had actually stumbled on a serial killer at work in Kirkwall were very slim … but slim or not, Lucas supposed he ought to investigate. He might as well at least talk to the man.

With a sigh, he began strapping his armor back on. Another day, another duty.