Part 3: The morning after ... (all what happened because of a hot kiss and the consequences)
Hawke got drawn out of her sleep because of the soft yet disturbing sound of patting feet restlessly pacing the room. She sat up, a little groggy, and immediately missed the warmth of a body next to her. To be exact the body of the mindboggling handsome and overwhelming elf that had made incredible love to her last night in the most amazing and dazzling way. She ran short on superlatives.
She was just in time to see Fenris thumping the wall. Again. And he was dressed. That was not a good sign. Nothing about the scene was good. He ought to be lying next to her in glorious nudity, only dressed in his lyrium markings, nuzzling her, fondling her or at least being asleep with his arms around her. The grogginess dissolved in an instant and was replaced by nasty little icy fingers that plucked at her innards. She covered herself with a blanket, not just to hide her nakedness but also because she suddenly grew very cold.
'What's wrong?'
He turned sharply, evidently startled by her voice. His moon-like hair fell into his face and he wiped it out of his eyes with an impatient gesture. 'You're awake,' he stated the obvious. His voice sounded alarmingly strained; the rough velvet had descended a few notches on the staff of sensuality and was definitely bathing in dark sugar right now. It could have aroused her if the circumstances had been different.
'Yes I am,' she said carefully, 'but that's not an answer to my question.'
Fenris screwed his eyes shut and pressed his lips. He was visibly struggling with his answer. 'It's – ' he started and failed miserably. He swallowed and tried anew. 'My memories returned.'
She stared at him, not exactly understanding, or better not understanding at all, or better even not willing to understand what he meant. Especially if it led to this behaviour. 'Your memories ..?'
He opened his eyes. 'The memories from before the markings. You know I lost everything with – the ritual. When Danarius ...' He swallowed again. Hard. With a rough disturbed sounding voice he continued, 'And last night it all suddenly came back to me.' He paused. She was about to say she missed the sincerity of his disquiet if not trepidation since as long as she knew him he wanted to have those memories back. But before she could vent her rather airily and painfully nonchalant remark he continued, 'And then they escaped me.'
She closed her already opened mouth in shock, trying to absorb the full significance of his words. Fenris took a shivering breath. He struggled desperately while he made a stuttering attempt to explain. 'I saw ... I heard ... everything ... faces and words ... I recognised ... people and places.' He grew frustrated with his inability to express himself properly. 'And then nothing,' he ended wretchedly, 'it all slipped away in an instant. I tried to hold on but couldn't. Everything went blank again.' He looked like a reflection of utter and total desolation. 'Nothing. It was gone. I don't know why this happened, it never did before.' He hung his head and his face got covered with his silken white bangs.
Hawke restrained herself from running out of bed to wipe those bangs out of his face. To hug him and give him all her strength and comfort and love. To hold him close for the rest of her life.
Her heart bled when she looked at his tormented face. 'And now?' she asked in a very small voice, dreading the worst up forehand. She wanted to smack herself for her easy thoughts earlier. What did she know about his agony? About the real pain he had suffered and the impact of the loss of memory, of the inner fight to win back even a tiny piece of who he had been before Danarius happened, of the people he had been with? His family. His loved-ones. It must have been a hard blow to retrieve those recollections and lose them at the same time. And yes, she feared the worst and to her dismay got put in the right the very minute.
'I can't go on with this,' he whispered, 'I so badly want to but I can't. The thought I'll have to cope with this ordeal every time I, we –' She thought he would break down but one way or another he managed to keep the tears at bay. 'It's just too much. Please forgive me.' He averted his eyes and stared at his feet.
She bit her lip, forcefully trying to fight back her own tears that threatened to overflow her eyes. She could taste them in her throat. She clenched her fists into the blanket. Win and loss ... She had longed for him, immensely; she had won him and now was about to lose him. Over memories. She knew about memories, the good ones but certainly also the bad. Bethany ... Carver ... her mother ... some memories should stay in the past, never to rear their ugly heads. He surely didn't have any experience with that kind of memories, not with the ones that handled the loss of loved-ones. There were definitely no ogres spooking in his head. He was craving for love and understanding and being cared for but at the same time didn't grasp the full impact of those feelings. And he absolutely and without any doubt didn't comprehend she was more than willing to give him all he so badly needed. Instead he was so hung up with what happened to him he was on the point of denying last night and by doing so ripping the heart out of her chest, in the poetic way. Yes indeed, it sounded very ironical.
'I knew I was dreaming,' she said with a choked voice, 'it was too good to be true. I only wished I really woke up alone in my own bed instead of being punched in the gut.' She didn't have to look up to see he was hurt by what she said. And she cursed herself for it. The last thing he needed right now were more feelings of pain and guilt. She hated herself for uttering those words and yet at the same time a spark of anger sputtered into life.
'Venhedis,' she heard him mutter and then he moved to the bed. She could feel him standing nearby, damn, she could smell him. That arousing scent of tantalizing musk with that hint of sweet jasmine came wafting to her and surrounded her, adding to her deep consuming sadness. He didn't sit down however, he kept his distance. Of course he did. He actually extended his hand to touch her but changed his mind the very moment. His arm dropped. 'I'm so sorry Hawke; I never wanted to hurt you. But I really can't do this.'
Hawke. Could it get any worse?
She hid her face in her pulled up knees and stifled a desperate sob.
And then the just kindled sudden flash of anger struck her, struck her hard. And became a burning if not blazing flame. The anger she had tried to hold back violently flared up. For his sake and hers. And, no matter how hard she tried or wished to, now she was no longer able to hold back. It was as if a lightning bolt struck her and like all lightning bolts it struck like an erratic missile with unpredictable result. What the fuck was he thinking, was he doing?! Denying himself? Denying her? Denying all the feelings that as an unknown and uninvited but more than welcome guest suddenly had surfaced and he fervently tried to bury beneath his fear? To suffocate them both? With a jerk she heaved her head and looked at him with burning eyes. He was so shocked by this abrupt change of demeanour he instinctively took two steps back. She looked as if she was about to erupt and tear his throat out.
'You complete and utter idiot!' she seethed, 'you gave me the best experience of my life and I will call you a liar if you dom't feel the same on your behalf and because of your fucking memories you're willing to put an end to it?! Just like that?! You must be out of your bloody mind! Instead of thinking about the advantages of and making love with me and getting your memories back at the same time, you bask in self-pity regardless of my feelings and at the same time you squander yours!' Yes, stupid awful memories, try to ignore them and they come back to bite you in the ass. Try to cope with that, you ignorant moron. You ignorant, irresistible plagued tortured wonderful elf. She deflated but fought against it. This was not the moment to give in. She straightened her shoulders and her look became even more resolute.
He wanted to react but she cut him short before he could utter a word, venting her own frustrations with force in an almost overwhelming dark rumbling timbre.
'Shut up! I don't want to hear your stupid arguments! Try to live with my memories! My memories of losing the ones you care for!'
He was so intimidated by her large flaming eyes and low threatening voice he snapped his mouth shut and took another step back. At the same time he remembered the horrible scene back in the Deep Roads. Where she had had to kill her own sister. And that other no less horrible occurrence, more recently, how her mother was murdered. Slaughtered. Of course he knew that memories could be awful; he had plenty of those kind, enough to fill a lifetime with nightmares. But in a flash he saw what she was trying to make clear: even memories that should be good could turn into horrifying demons that pursued your every step and waited around the corner to pounce upon you. Wonderful memories polluted by bad endings. Before he got a chance to utter his understanding however or say something considerate or say anything at all, like, indeed, memories could be bad but a person should at least have the right and capability to have them, she cut him short once again. And all he could do was numbly look at her.
She took up courage. And if possible went even more angry; it was as if all of her frustrations surfaced at once in one mighty explosion. 'Do you think you are the only one here haunted by memories? I damn well know the ones you have are all terrible. I have some of my own. Do I have to remind you of the dreadful death of my siblings, of the awful end of my mother?' Fasta vass, no. Please, no. 'I ever so often wished I could get rid of those and I bet you do the same when you remember that gruesome Magister of yours and his as evil apprentice and what they did to you.' Please don't. You are right but please don't. Please stop. But of course she remorselessly went on. She only paused to take in a gulp of breath but he didn't dare to interrupt her rant. He just stared at her. Completely captivated. When she spoke again she at least answered his silent plea to let go of those two – tormentors. He wasn't certain it made things better. She simply went on crushing him and he had no choice than to let her continue.
'And now other memories pop up, memories from before your predicament and times of agony, memories of times you think must have been happy. Why? They can as well turn out to be even worse than the ones you have. You just long for something better. You want to convince yourself that your life before Danarius happened was all sunshine, roses and butterflies.'
Despite or perhaps because of the harsh truth her words held he desperately wanted to interrupt her as yet but she already had heaved her hand and that didn't give him the chance. Besides that his voice wouldn't operate. He just cringed and let her words wash over him like some kind of last conviction. 'Yes, I know what you want to say. For bad or good, you want to know who your parents were, if you had a brother or sister. What they looked like. If they were slaves or could live their lives in freedom. Where you spent the years before Danarius ensnared you, if you were born into slavery or as a free man. And believe me, I understand those are important issues. You are entitled to know the answers to those questions. But are they important enough to leave me? To ignore your feelings for me, to brush aside the love I carry for you? To reject me?'
And now he couldn't even find words. Mostly because she had perfectly described how he felt. He just stuck with staring at her. And yes, still captivated. It would have been better if she had yelled at him; yelling he could have handled. Yelling he even could have disregarded. But instead she spoke in that low gravelly tone that paralyzed him and nailed him down; telling him about her own grief, laying bare his. He suddenly felt very humble. She knew about losses, knew about the unbearable pain. And he had been all too willing to overlook her feelings, to think she wouldn't understand him. But of course she did. He should have known better. The insight struck him with the force of a battering ram but she didn't give him the time to recuperate.
'You have a choice here,' she resumed with that hypnotizing dark husky voice, 'you can fuck me senseless and take the risk of regaining the pieces of your past and losing them at the same time or be a total jackass and lose also me because of your obsession. And who knows, by keeping fucking me senseless you will gather in the end all of those pieces you so desperately search for and be content or completely unhappy with the result. You have a choice, you blighted idiot. Don't go and throw it all away!'
She stopped talking and heroically swallowed back her tears because tears wouldn't make him see her point of view.
For a few long stretched moments he just stood, trying to regain his wits, trying to make sense of the turmoil in his head her words had caused. Imagination – family – fuck that, she killed her own sister, was forced to kill her own sister – what am I whining about ... Merda! And then his eyes flew open. The love I carry for you ..? His breath hitched. Did she really love him? Did she really love him so much she was willing to throw the harsh truth in his face to make him see ..?
He fought a fierce battle with himself, hesitating about what to do. He absolutely didn't want her to go and the last thing he wished to do was hurting her. On the other hand he was afraid he would completely break down when those blasted memories would pester him once more. And then she started to leave the bed and he acted without further thinking. He took a quick step forward and it was as if he broke through a barrier. He hurled himself onto the bed and pulled her into his arms. This woman who so perfectly had put his dreads and desires into words and at the same time had made her feelings for him very clear didn't deserve to be hurt, let alone to be abandoned. He didn't want to abandon her, hadn't want to in the first place. Before she could start talking again and strip his feelings and fears completely to the bone, he covered her mouth with his and kissed her with all the warm passion he could muster.
Marian gasped and at first couldn't react. But then she answered the kiss, clinging on to his frame like a drowning person. His lips brushed away the tears that finally began to flow.
'You are right,' he whispered hoarsely, 'I am a fool and I don't want to lose you. It would be a double loss.' He hesitated for a moment, gathering his thoughts. 'All you said was true and I am so sorry. I hurt you and you didn't deserve it.' And then he kissed her again. Desperately. 'I will try to live with whatever my mind comes up with to haunt me. For you.' He cupped her face. 'For us.'
She was too overwhelmed with relief and at the same time too busy with undressing him to respond properly. She urgently needed to feel the warmth and comfort of his bare warm skin. She badly wanted him in her arms, wanted him to be hers again. Wanted to be certain he really was hers. The only suffocated grumble she was able to manage sounded something between a stifled sniff and some kind of appreciating moan while she was tearing his shirt and sinfully sexy leggings off his body. But when she had got him naked again and he made a serious effort of putting his hands on every part of her body at once, she suddenly hesitated and drew back.
He looked up from the nipple he was devouring. 'Now you are getting seconds thoughts ..?' His heart plummeted into his stomach.
'No,' she panted, 'but I want you to make this grave decision without me shouting at you. Perhaps you should think it over more thoroughly. I want you to – out of your own – oh hell.' His mouth had moved to the crook of her shoulder and he gave her a heated lovebite that shot hot bolts to her centre.
'You didn't shout,' he murmured.
'Please Fenris, if you think you need time –'
He attacked her mouth to stop her from uttering more idiotic words. 'I don't need time, I need you.'
When they slowly started to wake up, three days later, they were more or less surprised they had ended up in his bed. It had been three wonderful days – and nights, filled with lovemaking, quick simple meals the pantry's meagre supplies provided, lovemaking, some bottles of wine, lovemaking, a few inevitable catnaps, lovemaking and after that more lovemaking. The bed was all but ruined, the floor was littered with cushions, blankets, empty bottles and leftovers; the chairs were pushed all over the room due to their frenzy; the side table in the hall was badly molested because Fenris had more or less threw her upon the piece of fragile furniture on their way to the kitchen to find something to eat and Hawke knew they sooner or later had to clean up the mess in that same kitchen after they had been making hot love on the cold stove, on the counter and the kitchen table, scattering plates and cups and pots all around. A broad grin appeared on her face at the lively picture in her head.
She tried to move but their bodies were so entangled it was a hard job to puzzle out which limb belonged to whom and how to free any of them. She gave up. She felt worn down, battered and bruised and was certain she wouldn't be able to walk properly for quite a time. And she felt rosy and warm and absolutely, utterly, insanely happy. She nuzzled Fenris's neck. 'What time would it be?' she wondered drowsily.
The elf didn't bother with raising his head. 'I don't even know what day it is,' he mumbled, 'and you know what, I don't care.' She giggled and tickled his throat with her breath. She planted a kiss on his skin and softly nibbled his ear.
'Hmm,' he hummed, 'do that again.' He lazily lifted a hand and tenderly caressed her arm and back. It was quite a wonder he had been able to free the limb and remove it out of the intricate tangled knot.
'Do you think we could manage to make some coffee?' she asked, immensely enjoying the feeling of his fingers tracing her bare skin. She groaned softly.
'No,' Fenris said determinedly, 'I won't be able to make it to the kitchen. Not again.'
'Right. No coffee then.'
'I can offer you some wine. That is if I could reach the bottle. Which I cannot.'
'Just leave it,' she murmured. Her eyes fell shut and she started to drift off.
His memories had returned and vanished again several times. He hadn't want to tell her, but of course she had sensed it. She had just listened to his stumbled words and kissed his tension away. He had to admit that now he was prepared, the experience was less overwhelming than the first time when it caught him completely off guard. He still couldn't grasp why it happened at all, though slow but sure he began to suspect it had something to do with Hawke, Marian, with her personality, with his feelings for her; with her feelings for him. With the symbiosis they shared for one reason or another. As far as he knew he had never been in love before, not in the strong passionate way he cared for her. He had denied that for a long time or perhaps it was better to say he hadn't recognized it. Until that day on the Wounded Coast, that day she saved his life and he showed his gratitude by almost killing her. Until he lost his control with that sweltering kiss. Only then he had realized he was madly in love with her. He turned his head to look at her. Under the mess of tousled hair her face glowed with warm bliss and contentment. It made him think of a purring cat lying in the warm sunlight. An affectionate, loving smile unfolded on his face.
As if she felt his expression she cracked one eye open. 'What? Why are you smiling like you're about to do something totally inappropriate?' she asked suspiciously.
'More inappropriate than what I've done the past days?' He laughed, a low resonating sound that thrilled her and filled her with want. And not for the first time. 'No my love. I smile because you look absolutely adorable.' He kissed the tip of her nose.
'Yeah right; hair like a birds nest, I bet that stupid stove left its soot on my bottom if not on the rest of my body and on the whole I'm in a desperate need of a bath. I dread what my image in a mirror looks like. Really adorable.' She snickered against his chest. And then "my love" hit home. Her eyes flew open. My love?Had he really said that?
'Did I say something wrong?' Seeing her near panicking expression he suddenly sounded concerned.
'You didn't say anything wrong. You said "my love",' she breathed, fighting back sudden tears. Her emotions tried to get the best of her, she was deeply moved and with reason. Coming from him "My love" was as much as a perfect declaration of commitment as it could get. Despite all the passionate and devoted lovemaking of the past days it caught her offhand. He loved her. He really loved her. 'I don't know if you catch the significance of those two simple words,' she whispered.
He chortled softly but looked serious when he cupped her face. 'I certainly do, don't think it was said on a whim.' He took in her startled expression and near tears and realized how much she meant to him. And at the same time realized she affected him as much as he did her. She made him see the reason of life. The reason to live on. She had given him worth, she gave him purpose. He smiled lovingly which took her breath away. And then he spoke words that crushed her heart. In the good way.
'Your angry rant was a real eye-opener For the first time since I can remember I find my life makes sense and I am glad to live it. As long as you stay in it.'
'That's the sweetest thing someone ever said to me,' Hawke whispered, deeply moved.
'I'm yours,' he rumbled with that breathtaking low voice that vibrated through her every single sinew.
His lips descended on hers and his tongue took possession of her mouth. With some difficulties they managed to disentangle their bodies only to entwine them in another way. Again.
Several hours later ...
'Love?'
'Hmm?'
'Are you still alive?'
'I think so. Why?'
'Will you still be alive tomorrow?'
'That depends; what are you planning?'
'Loving you like mad.'
'Oh. Good. Wake me up when you're up to that.'
'I will.'
'Capital.'
'And after that a bath.'
'Definitely.'
And finally they both fell into a deep sleep, completely exhausted but intensely gratified.
I always thought you people were afraid to read on after part two, because you thought "here we go again". Because the dreadful fact of Fenris leaving Hawke seems to be unavailable. And so part three became a sort of sad orphan. Thats's why I tried to do something about it. For you, who, I hope, are of the same mind, I wrote this. After all, it stays fanfiction.
Thanks so much for reading and for your support!
Up to the next chapter.