This story was... difficult to write. It was a very emotional time for me, and I don't think I could have kept going if not for my friends (read: Fenris). He actually helped me write some of this, Maker bless him. After this, all my friends viewed me slightly differently; it was the first time they ever truly saw me break down, to my chagrin.

Anyway, this is the true story of what happened directly after my mother died.

-Hawke

The Heart's Pain

Hawke slumped on the ground, dazed. She stared at her mother's body, her mind in turmoil. This can't have happened... This is a dream... No way... I can't... Her thoughts were disjointed, oddly muffled. A hand touched her shoulder gently, and she flinched and glanced up. Her gaze was fuzzy and blurry; she touched her face in surprise to feel tears racing down her cheeks. She bitterly brushed them out of her eyes and found herself staring into Aveline's surprisingly compassionate emerald green eyes. The guard captain was expertly concealing her own shock and grief, but Hawke was a talented rogue, and she could see right through her friend's brave facade, even in this state.

"Hawke?" the guard captain asked softly. "Quentin is dead. What do you want us to do now?"

"I..." Hawke's gaze lowered to her mother's caring face, fixed into place forever. She reached out and gently slid her eyelids shut, covering her glassy eyes. She touched Leandra's wasted cheek, her own lips twisting into a bitter scowl upon seeing the stitching on her neck where the bastard blood mage had patched her together. She slowly gathered her mother's body into her arms and started to rise, but stumbled. Her calf throbbed with dull pain from an injury she hadn't been aware of till now. "...help..." she said weakly. Instantly Fenris was at her side, easily lifting the body into his arms. He lifted his gaze to meet Hawke's, and a dull throb ached in her shattered heart when she saw his concerned, tender expression. Aveline drew Hawke to her feet, and she stood unsteadily for a moment while she tried to force her thoughts back in order.

"We need to bury her," she decided, her voice hoarse. Aveline nodded; she turned and led the way out of the Foundry. Hawke limped along beside Fenris, her expression dazed and a little unfocused, her gaze darting down to her mother's face every so often. Merrill and Varric followed, both quiet for once.

Aveline took them to an isolated area just outside of Kirkwall. She'd requisitioned shovels and spades from her guards as they left the city. Hawke held one now, staring blankly at the ground. They were on a small hill near the coast; in the distance, she could hear the waves brushing against the shore. She focused on them now, as if desperate to keep a grip on her sanity.

"Hawke?" Varric prompted gently. She shook her head, snapping back to focus, and started digging. Fenris laid the body on the ground and moved forward to help her. The rhythmic digging motion calmed her, along with Fenris's arm working next to hers, her light armor brushing against his.

An hour later, Hawke stepped back to admire their crude handiwork. She said nothing of it, though. Her gaze turned up to the sky, her mouth twisted sourly. There was an acrid, depressing taste in her mouth.

"Fitting," she commented dully, eyeing the setting sun. "It looks like blood." The sky seemed to be smeared with scarlet blood as the sun cast its dying rays. It illuminated the fresh tears on her cheeks, as if she was crying blood.

"I'm sorry, Hawke," Merrill murmured, touching Hawke's arm comfortingly. "Your mother was a good woman." Even through her blurry gaze, Hawke could see the slender elf's alarmed, almost scared expression. To them, Hawke was a solid rock, not completely unemotional but at least able to laugh everything off- except for this. They had never seen her cry before. It gave her a bit of a bitter, exposed feeling.

"Thank you, Merrill," Hawke answered distractedly, uncomfortably tearing her gaze away from the mage. The tears threaded down her face even more thickly as she bent down and gently placed her mother's body into the grave, ignoring her throbbing leg. She brushed the tears away again, piling the dirt back into the hole on top of the corpse. She paused, the last scoop of dirt in her shovel, gazing at her mother's face for the last time. And finally she dumped the dirt over the body. The shovel fell from her hands.

"Good-bye, Mother," she whispered, dropping to her knees in front of the grave. She sat there numbly for a moment before her hands flew up to cover her face; she curled in on herself, her shoulders trembling with silent sobs. The others whispered their own goodbyes and condolences and, uncomfortable with Hawke's loss of composure, left to allow her some time alone.

Except for Fenris. Naturally.

She felt the air stirring as Fenris knelt beside her and lowered his head. She recognized his deep voice whispering quietly under his breath, the words a mixture of the Tevinter and Qunari languages. A few moments later, his low murmur died away and they crouched next to each other in silence. She scowled into her hands with annoyance, but the feeling quickly died away to be replaced by a fresh wave of grief. They stayed that way for several hours, until the moon was at its zenith and clouds were creeping across the horizon to cover it. The stars were bright, seeming to mock her as she finally lifted her head; her eyes were dry now, the tear tracks glittering on her cheeks. Beside her, Fenris rose gracefully to his feet.

"Come on," he murmured to her, drawing her to her feet. She was numbly aware of him at her side as he guided her back to the city, his arm wrapped hesitantly around her shoulders. She shuffled along quietly, still limping and leaning into him for support. Finally the clouds broke, and rain sprinkled around them lightly. She started to shiver. Fenris pulled her closer to him, his reluctance gone as he fervently tried to keep her warm. He led her into her mansion, ignoring Bodahn's initial gasp of surprise when he walked in leading Hawke.

"Where's Leandra?" the dwarf wanted to know. Orana glanced over curiously. Hawke shook her head and halted, biting her lip as the pain flickered across her face again.

"Oh, no," Orana gasped, her eyes wide and filling with tears. "Mistress, I'm so sorry..."

"She should get to bed," Fenris said firmly. "She needs to sleep."

"Yes, messere," Bodahn answered, his gaze dropping with grief. Hawke listened to all this with an air of detachment. She was aware they were talking about her, but she just didn't really care anymore; her mind kept flitting back to her mother, and the body in the grave. Somehow, they didnt seem to be the same person. That bastard Quentin, for having the nerve to kidnap her mother and patch her together with parts of other women's bodies... She started to tremble with rage. Fenris said something else to Bodahn, and the dwarf hesitated before nodding reluctantly. She couldn't hear what was said over the sudden pounding in her ears.

Fenris said something to her, and when she didn't respond, he nudged her gently and led her up to her room. She dropped on the small stool in front of the flickering fireplace, glowering at it before turning back to the lanky elf, who stood there watching her with sad eyes.

"We should have gotten there faster," she growled bitterly. He didn't answer. "If only Aveline hadn't made us wait while she got her guards... or if that urchin hadn't stalled until I bribed him... or if Gamlen hadn't taken so long to get to me..."

"Hawke."

"It's the damn mages!" she snapped, a wall of fiery anger building up inside her. Her icy eyes flashed, a scowl darkening her features. "Why do they have to be so... so stupid and weak! It's like everything in Kirkwall is conspiring against me, and they're trying to break me, Fenris, but they can't, because now I don't have anything left to lose. Carver was killed by the darkspawn, and they've already taken Bethany from me... and then you left me, but at least you're still here, because frankly, I couldn't bear it if you left." She jumped to her feet, cracking her knuckles. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Fenris flinch very slightly in surprise. Her gaze was fixed on something he couldn't see, and it burned with bottomless depths of passion, fury, and grief. Her voice cracked. "Why did it have to be my mother?" She turned to punch the wall; in the blink of an eye, he was at her side. Her hand shot out; he caught her wrist and whirled her around to face him. She struggled for a moment before finally collapsing with a moan. She would have fallen on the floor if Fenris wasn't holding her so tight. "It's not fair!" she groaned into his chest. He held her close while she sobbed, looking heartbreakingly fragile in his arms.

"I'm sorry, Hawke," he murmured passionately into her ear, stroking her hair comfortingly. He whispered a few more soothing words in Tevinter, which she didn't understand but she still took comfort in them. A moment later, she pulled away. Her cheeks burned in shame and embarrassment. The sarcastic gleam in her eyes was gone, replaced by dull weariness and grief. She looked ages older than she had this morning.

"I... Fenris... thanks." She sighed, running a hand through her hair, which had long since fallen out of her usual bun to tumble over her shoulders. He nodded once, waiting patiently for her to collect her thoughts. "Can you..." she sighed again, dropping her head into her hands. "Tell the others to take a break for a while, please. I..." She swallowed. "I need a few days."

"Don't worry, Hawke," he said impulsively, his gaze compassionate. "The others will understand." He paused a moment, his face twisting into a scowl before his next words. "I can ask the mage for some poultices to heal your leg, if you want." She glanced down at her injured leg, her eyes widening in momentary surprise. Obviously she'd forgotten about it.

"That would be appreciated," she answered gratefully. She sat down on her bed and started tugging at her boots, and after a swift moment of hesitation, he knelt by her feet to help her remove her armor. She blinked at him in silent thanks and his eyes twinkled sadly back at her. When her shoes and the top layer of her armor were off, she yanked her legs up onto the bed and leaned back against her headboard.

She gazed into the fire again, the flames reflecting in her ice blue eyes. Fenris turned to leave, but her soft voice stopped him. "Fenris... is it my fault?" Her throat burned as she uttered the simple question, her fists clenching. He didn't answer right away, and she turned, her eyes wide, to make sure he hadn't left. He was still standing there, a slight frown on his face as he considered the answer.

"I could say no, but would that help?" he told her finally. "You are looking for forgiveness, but I'm not the one who can give it to you." She nodded, her shoulders slumping in disappointment, but her eyes flashing in understanding. She turned back to the fire, losing herself in the depths of the flames. When she turned again, Fenris was gone.

Noon the following day found Hawke sitting in the armchair in her office, in front of the fireplace down there. She'd chosen this room over her room since the armchair was more comfortable, although in hindsight she should have stayed in her room; Bodahn couldn't bug her while she was up there.

"Please, mistress, you should eat!" he begged for the umpteenth time.

"I'm not hungry."

"But you haven't eaten since this time yesterday!"

"I'm not hungry, Bodahn," Hawke snarled, and she was about to add something else that she would probably regret later when they heard a knock on the door. She relaxed into her chair and heard Orana greeting someone at the door. She wondered vaguely who it was. Maybe Anders, come to heal her leg. She doubted it, though. Fenris would make sure the mage stayed well enough away from her mansion. And it definitely wasn't the lanky elf; the knock was too aggressive...

"Rathina." Gamlen's voice roused her from her temporary reverie. She flinched and her gaze shot up to meet her tired uncle's. He stood in the doorway, watching her warily.

"Uncle," she greeted him with a sigh, collapsing back into her chair. "You heard."

"The broody elf told me. He seemed genuinely apologetic. What company you keep..." Hawke resisted rolling her eyes, aware that this was her uncle's way of dealing with grief. He stepped into the room and started pacing, his voice now trembling with rage. "Who did this to her? We need to find him, and..."

"It was a blood mage named Quentin," Hawke answered listlessly. Gamlen's footsteps paused; she imagined his jaw dropping in shock. She was too mournful to turn to look at him; she didn't want to see the horror and grief in his eyes. She wasn't sure she could suppress another flood of tears. "We killed him already."

"Oh." His voice fell. "Why did he do such a terrible thing?"

"He was a very terrible man, Uncle," Hawke responded deliberately, deciding against telling him the whole truth. She still had difficulty believing it herself. "Does it matter why anymore? He's dead."

"I guess you're right." Gamlen sighed. "I'll break the news to Bethany, to take a bit of the stress off your shoulders. You deserve it."

"Thanks, Uncle."

"If you ever need to talk... you know where to find me. I'll see you around, I guess," he said, his voice a little uncomfortable. He left. Hawke sighed with relief, drawing her legs up underneath her, glad to be alone again.

It was evening again. The house was quiet as a cat waiting to pounce on a mouse, and it felt almost as tense. Hawke had barely moved an inch, and Bodahn had finally stopped bothering her- probably hoping she'd come to him when she got hungry. There was another gentle knock at the door, and Hawke's heart lifted; she recognized that knock. She jumped to her feet and stumbled, letting out a soft cry of pain when she put too much weight on her hurt leg. Collapsing back into her chair, she stretched her leg out and eyed it idly while she listened at the front door.

"Ah, master Fenris, come in," Bodahn's voice drifted to her. She heard the dwarf whisper something else and scowled, picking at her robes. She froze a moment later when Fenris's low chuckle echoed through the house, and then... silence. Hawke let out a gusty sigh, leaning back in her chair and gazing into the fire again.

"Bodahn tells me you haven't eaten since I brought you back." She started and scowled, her eyes smoldering into the fire, refusing to look up at him. Damn, she'd forgotten just how quiet he could be sometimes. "Sorry, did I startle you?" he added, his tone slightly amused, sliding into the armchair across from her. She finally flicked her gaze up to meet his. He gazed steadily back at her with his intent expression that always made her melt a little inside.

"No," she insisted, scrambling to recover her thoughts as her pride assaulted her. Then, with another sigh, she ran her hand through her lank black hair and leaned back, the momentary fire in her gaze gone. "Alright, maybe a little. But just a little!" She looked back at him for another moment before lowering her eyes to the fire again. "Gamlen came by earlier."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. He... well, you could tell how upset he was. He said he'd tell Bethany..." Hawke's shoulders slumped. She just couldn't do anything right, could she? First Carver was killed by the ogre, then Bethany was taken by the templars, and then Fenris... and her mother... Maybe she didn't deserve to have a family. Maybe she was doomed to lose everyone she loved. The thought brought tears to her eyes again, and she looked down at her lap, biting her lip. At least she had Fang. The Mabari was in the other room, near the fireplace that Mother was always dusting...

"I can't imagine what it must be like to lose your family," he said quietly, interrupting her thoughts. "Anything I could say would be insufficient... I'm sorry." There was a lump in her throat, and she swallowed hard, unable to speak.

"Thanks, Fenris," she choked out after a pause. She glanced up at him, giving him a sad, grateful smile, nothing like the usual quirky, bitter-free half-smile she usually wore. "I... I appreciate you being here for me."

"It's the least I could do," he answered simply. They sat in silence for several minutes. She burned with questions, but she wrestled them down; they were better left for later. She wasn't going to scare the elf away now, when she needed his comfort most. The lanky elf himself was gazing reflectively into the fire, his thoughts hidden from even her keen gaze that could read everybody else like a book.

"Your leg will get infected if you don't have something done about it soon," Fenris remarked after a while, breaking their little vigil. His eyes darkened. "I thought the mage was going to come by."

"He's probably been busy," Hawke answered diplomatically, then rolled her eyes. "Probably dealing with one of Isabela's 'rashes' again." Fenris chuckled softly. Warm emotions flooded her at the musical sound of his deep laughter, and her cheeks tingled. It healed her better than any healing magic ever could. She shook her head at her digressing thoughts and forced herself back to the present. "I have a few potions and healing kits in my bag," she recalled, her gaze falling on the ragged bag that rested forlornly beside the fireplace. Fenris immediately leaped up and moved over to it, rummaging through it. Hawke marveled inwardly at how silent and fluid his steps were, as she always did. Even Merrill's footsteps were somewhat audible. She sighed aloud as Fenris straightened, holding a small kit. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I was just thinking," she answered, shaking her head, her cheeks darkening again. His mouth quirked in a small smirk as he approached her with the bandages. She made as if to grab them, but he swiftly yanked them out of her reach.

"What-" Hawke started to object, but Fenris dropped down beside her and proceeded to clean her wound. "I- thanks," she sighed, leaning back and closing her eyes to ignore the pain, too exhausted to resist. She told herself fiercely that she only imagined his fingers caressing her leg, brushing softly against her skin... Dammit Rath, get over yourself. Abruptly his touch disappeared from her skin, and her eyes fluttered open. She inhaled sharply, surprised to see his face just inches away from hers. Their eyes met and his expression softened, saddened by... something. She could only imagine the look in her own eyes at that moment; surprised probably, caring, loving, thoughtful, remorseful... she pictured the deep pool of grief masked by these other emotions that Fenris could no doubt see through. They both jumped when Fang barked excitedly from the other room, and Fenris moved away, looking a little ashamed. She cursed inwardly, wondering what he would have done if they hadn't been distracted. Then again, maybe it was better that she didn't know. She dropped her eyes, not wanting to see his expression.

"Thanks, Fenris," Hawke said sincerely, eying her bandaged calf.

"No problem." His tone was unreadable.

"D'you want to stay for dinner?" Hawke offered, only now realizing that she was famished. She lifted her eyes and saw his face lightening with relief. To anyone else, the change in his gaze was barely perceptible; to her, it glowed like a beacon.

"Sure," he agreed with the smallest hint of a smile- again, barely visible. She smiled back, but it was a shadow of her former radiant smile. It didn't quite reach her eyes, and it looked almost painful.

Hawke called to Bodahn and he looked almost ready to cheer when she asked him to make dinner. He sighed in relief and led them to the dining room.

"Orana went ahead and cooked dinner," he explained to their quizzical expressions.

"Ah. Tell her thank you, please." Hawke sighed as she fell into her usual chair, resting her elbow on the table and dropping her head into her hand. Bodahn left the room. Fenris sat down beside her silently. A moment later, the dwarf returned and placed food on the table for them; less than usual, Hawke noted tiredly. Usually Orana cooked whole plates of food just for her and her mother- even she was suffering from Leandra's death, it seemed. Bodahn set two glasses of wine and a bottle down on the table, and Hawke gratefully swallowed hers down. Fenris sipped his, watching Hawke over the edge of his glass, aware that he ought to keep himself sober if only for her sake.

Fenris guided a very drunken Hawke back to her room several hours later. In retrospect, he probably should have stopped her after her third or fourth glass, but he empathized with her wanting to forget everything. For a little while, at least. She deserved the relief.

He nudged her toward her bed and she obediently staggered over to it, somehow managing not to fall over. She dropped down on the blankets and sat there for a moment, gazing at the ground. She shook her head and seemed to refocus, lifting her eyes to meet Fenris's own calm, surprisingly gentle gaze.

"Thanks," she said rather lamely, slurring a bit on even this simple word. He nodded and a slight smile touched his features.

"Good night." He turned to leave.

"H...hey, Fenris." He paused, glancing back at her, his eyebrows lifting in a wordless question. She shifted uneasily, her cheeks reddening a bit before she blurted, "This doesn't change anything... does it." Her words were more of a statement than a question. He turned away again, leaning against the door frame and lowering his eyes so she couldn't see his expression.

"I'm sorry, Hawke."

"Okay." He heard the unsurprised disappointment in her voice. He could almost hear the muddled wheels turning in her head as she sorted through her next words. "Don't worry, Fenris... I-I understand..." He glanced up just in time to see the undisguised pain and hurt flash across her features for the briefest moment before she controlled her expression again. He wanted to run to her, to hug her and comfort her and never let go...

"I'm sorry," he repeated in a whisper, his gaze dropping again. He turned and fled, his heart ripping anew, torn between wanting to protect her and wanting to avoid the haunting look in her eyes... He thought he heard a choked sob follow him out the door.

It was several days before he or anybody else saw her again.