Chapter 2

Flight

Her breath ghosted across his lips, sighing his name. Gentle fingers lightly caressed the back of his neck as they snuck their way into his hair, and he shivered at the pleasant sensation. She was so close, so soft, so warm. Hooded and dark eyes called to him as her kind hands insisted he lower his head. Some long buried instinct rose to answer that call, and desire blazed through him igniting a passion he'd forgotten as he complied.

Soft lips met his, plush but demanding and wanton. She set a gentle rhythm and he drifted along, lost in the feel of the kiss, the feel of her, of Hawke. As fiery and bold in this as she was in everything else she quickly took the lead, running her tongue in a playful caress along his lower lip. He gasped softly, searching for air and some grasp on reality, on why her kiss felt so right when a simple touch should feel so wrong.

Fire burned away those thoughts, though, as her insistent tongue took advantage of his sighs and tangled with his, soft and curious and sweet. This was a battle he didn't know how to fight and she was dominant, nipping at his lips as she stole his breath. Her hands were tugging at his hair, and she was no longer so sweet, but demanding and forceful - and wonderful.

Her hips lifted, and she moved against him. He moaned her name and

Woke up.

Fenris struggled to calm his breathing as he sat up quickly.

Trying to get his bearings he searched wide eyed around the room, but there was no temptress with disheveled hair and kiss bruised lips sitting in the chairs by the fire, or in the empty, dusty bed. His heart raced as her sighs still echoed in his ears, burning through him.

A dream.

It'd been a dream.

But it had felt so real, so right! He still ached from her light touches; touches he shouldn't know about. He'd never felt anything like them before. The gentle intensity, the soft brush of lips and the kind caresses.

He'd never felt this hollow or wanting.

It wasn't possible that that had simply been a dream. His dreams weren't ever so…good.

He ran a hand, bare of the usual sharp gauntlets over his face and through stark hair. The dream was still fresh in his mind, but as his body calmed he remembered himself. Of course it had been a dream - after yesterday there was no way Hawke would end up in his arms. If anything, she'd be in Anders' soon.

She almost had been towards the end of the night, had almost kissed that abomination. Was that the cause of the dream, then? Did he want so badly to be the focus of her attentions that he would subconsciously put himself in the mage's place?

He scoffed at his foolishness and rubbed his blurry eyes. That damned powder was still there, gritty and annoying.

Anders had told him to sleep it off, but morning was still many hours away, and as his heart continued to race he knew sleep would not find him again.

He cursed softly, upset at himself, and at Hawke.


.oO:OO:Oo.


Halbert searched through the debris. He'd been at it all day and deep into the night, and he still wasn't done. Sadly he shifted the bits and pieces of broken glass carefully away from mingled liquids and picked through stained pages. The destruction was very depressing.

It wasn't just the merchandise that was lost. He'd spent years collecting these things; each one was a memory, an adventure. And each one was hope - for some mage that needed to get away from the slavery forced on them in the guise of the Circle. He'd come to the city to help and offer these hopes.

And now they were gone, shattered and broken across his basement floor. Halbert shook his head sadly as he lifted a destroyed Tome of Knowledge from the rubble, its pages ripped from their bindings and colored oddly with dried potion.

True despair didn't hit him, though, till he found the jar, small and gleaming amidst the wreckage. Halbert's hands shook as he lifted it. He'd forgotten he'd placed it on this shelf. Round and silver it had survived better than the other shattered containers. But its contents were gone, spilled out and dusting the debris around it. Just like it had dusted the tattooed elf.

He hadn't realized the powder covering the man had been this! This is terrible! A tragedy! Halbert thought with a great panic as he fumbled about.

Even though the powder hadn't been completed it was close enough. The effects might be slightly different than the ordered but the end result would be the same.

When the container fell from Halbert's shaking hands the hollow crash didn't reach his ears.

He had been creating the powder, true, but he hadn't decided if he would actually complete it. The mage had always been an advocate for people's rights and freedoms, and not just of mages. Filling that dark woman's order had gone against everything he'd ever believed in. He hadn't wanted too. The powder would force a fate too vile for anyone to deserve, and now in an accident it'd been forced on that poor elf.

But there was no way to help him now, Halbert knew. The elf was damned.

"Maker give you strength, friend." His pained whisper echoed out to his empty cellar, "I'm so sorry."


.oO:OO:Oo.


Fenris had been far more broody than usual today. His icy glare wasn't just frequent, it was continuous.

When Hawke had gone to check on him this morning he'd answered the door that way. His cold welcome had destroyed whatever hopes she'd had that he'd forgiven her overnight. If anything he seemed even angrier with her.

It had been a surprise then, when he'd hesitantly agreed to follow her on her errands that day. She'd had to track a thief for some noble, and while she'd been glad for his support on the mission, his slightly malicious presence had unnerved her. He was far more fierce in battle, and eyed her with barely concealed contempt when she'd spoken to him. So she'd stopped trying. If he wanted to be foolish and contemptible then she could certainly return the favor. A silence had followed them into the thief's hole and an even heavier one had followed them out.

By the end of the day her nerves and emotions were left frayed and raw, and all she wanted was a nice strong drink with some good company at the Hanged Man.

But whatever surprise she'd had that morning when Fenris had stepped from his mansion was doubled when he stepped into the tavern with her, and she'd hoped he would maybe find some peace after a good day of work and let by gones be by gones.

He didn't relax at all, though, the cheap wines and light conversation didn't seem to help. With shoulders tight and straight he sat quietly in his corner, ignoring the jokes and laughter of the others.

While he'd never exactly warmed up to anyone, it was obvious he'd become comfortable with most of their company. He even seemed to enjoy Hawke's. But when she snuck glances at him now, it was like all of those good times were wiped away. He was colder than he had been in years, and the realization of the regression only hurt her more, anger rising to meet her confusion.

At first she'd understood, took the burden as her fault. But this was ridiculous. Nothing of weakness could be said of the women in her family. They had always prided themselves on their strength and boldness. But Fenris's cold grudge made her feel small and downright worthless.

And it pissed her off. She was eager for a distraction from him.

The distraction walked in a few moments later.

But it only brought more anger for Fenris.

It was Anders.

The accident in the magic shop had left Fenris feeling bitter, and the dream last night had only intensified the confusion he'd had regarding Hawke. He'd been in a foul mood all day, riddled with uncertainty; imagined memories of her soft lips had brought blushes unbidden and at odds with his anger. Not knowing how to handle the warring emotions he'd settled into a deep scowl, broody and uncomfortable.

But however angry and tense he'd been throughout the day, his discomfort only intensified when Anders arrived.

The audacious man went straight to Hawke who stood and accepted his friendly embrace. Pleasantries were traded and the woman scooted over, making room for the mage to sit near her, too eager and too close. Some unknown feeling assaulted the elf as he watched, twisting his insides painfully.

More drinks were ordered; shots were taken. Hawke tossed back a few more than she should have with Isabela. Putting his arm around Hawke, the mage pulled her closely to his side as she laughed at something he whispered in her ear.

Fenris couldn't watch them. He didn't understand it, but that twisting in his gut was back a thousand fold. He felt sick.

The elf stood quickly, his drink settling on the table a bit too loudly and his back rigid as he headed for the door.

Distantly he heard Hawke stop laughing. "Fenris?" she asked, but he didn't respond. His name echoed in his ears, haunting him as it changed from her question to her sighs.

As quickly as he could he wove his way through the patrons of the bar, seeking the exit. Hawke's worried calls did nothing to slow his flight.

The night air was refreshing when he burst out of the tavern, but it couldn't quell the fire that burned in him; the anger. To consumed with the darkness inside to pay attention to the shadows around him he stalked off into the night, eager to get back to his silent mansion – his sanctuary – and eager to get away from Hawke and that damned mage.


.oO:OO:Oo.


He didn't succeed. A few minutes after he slunk into his mansion with the image of Hawke with Anders burning his eyelids, the object of his torment slipped into his room.

His pacing stopped when he saw her standing silently by the door, but his glower did not lift.

Hawke eyed him searchingly. His walls were up, the doors which had started to open for her shut tight and locked. "Why are you here?" he spat, his voice full venom.

"If you wanted to make me feel like shit today, you've done a good job." Cold words were said with a warm tone. She wasn't angry, but she was hurt. It was apparent to the perceptive young woman that something was bothering the elf, and had been for a while; she wouldn't begrude his attitude. "You've been distant lately." If it was what Fenris wanted then she couldn't stop it, but she'd be damned if she wouldn't try. "Why?" she asked eyeing him fiercely.

And in the face of her fiery determination he broke. His shoulders slumped and he couldn't meet her eyes. He felt terrible, knowing that Hawke had suffered for his foolishness, and a great weight settled on him. Despairingly he shook his head, white bangs falling to cover his haunted eyes. "I don't know," he said. And it was true.

He'd been frightened to realize how much of his life was beginning to revolve around Hawke; how much he was starting to care for her. So he'd pushed her away, as hard as he could, avoiding her, acting like an ass when she was around – acting like an even bigger one when Anders was. But he hadn't realized that the pain his purposeful distance caused would outweigh the fear of being so close. He felt empty without her, angry and alone. Perhaps if he'd realized sooner, separated himself from her before the Deep Roads, he wouldn't have become this attached.

But it was too late now. Too late to tear himself from her without tearing his own heart out as well.

He hoped it wasn't too late for Hawke to forgive him.

Hawke watched his struggles for only a moment before leaving her place at the door and going to him. She knew he didn't appreciate people coming too near, and usually she respected his aversion, but not now. Her friend's pain was too obvious to stay away.

Tentatively she reached out, giving him time to push her hand away if he didn't want her touch. But his physical rebuttal never came, and her hand gently lighted on his breastplate. His eyes were tentative, hesitant as he searched her's warily. But behind the fear of touch they were wracked with guilt, and whatever anger she'd had before was gone.

Fenris worried that the too-perceptive woman would feel his heart pounding through the chill metal, but he couldn't keep himself calm in such close proximity. She was so close, so near. He could smell the pungent alcohol on her breath, the dusty city on her clothes, but underneath it he could smell her. The soft soaps she used, and a lighter scent he didn't know as anything but Hawke.

So close.

But she could be closer.

As though she'd heard his thoughts she stepped nearer. Hardly any space separated them now, and he could feel her breath ghosting across his lips.

Her eyes lost their worry, and became things dark and hooded and intense. And he was lost in them, floundering in a wave of emotions he didn't understand.

"Fenris," she breathed in a sigh.

And suddenly it was the same as in his dream; made better in reality. Her eyes called to him, holding him prisoner with their passion. His body was acutely aware of her, their closeness, the hand on his chest sneaking up towards his neck, burning through his armor with its feather light pressure.

His heart beat frantically as his eyes fell to her full lips.

Shaking his head slightly, he took a deep breath and stepped away from her escaping her wandering fingers before they could brush skin.

A very real pain erupted inside him when her hand fell away with his retreat. Strange, he thought distractedly, touch was supposed to cause pain, not the other way around. With everything he'd been through, her touch was not something he should want.

Hawke watched him sadly as he drew away and her disappointed sigh was not lost on the elf. "I...I'm sorry," he said hesitantly, shaking his head.

But her smile cut him off. "It's fine. Another night, maybe?" she said with a shrug as Fenris blushed at the implications and looked away. "Listen, Fenris," she started hesitantly, "I understand the past few years have been hard on you. That life has been hard. But I want..." she paused and seemed to think a long moment as she eyed him searchingly, till a small smile found its way to her lips, tinged with sadness. "I want you to be happy."

His gaze shot back to her, and he couldn't seem to swallow through his suddenly too tight throat. "If it means being distant," she continued, "Or even if you feel the need to move on, then I'll support you in that."

He was shaking his head before she finished, "No," he ground out. "It's not... It's just..." he broke off with a sigh, not knowing the answer himself. He ran his fingers though his hair in frustration.

Silence stretched between them but it was more comfortable than it had been in weeks.

After a while Hawke seemed to understand even without his explanation, and she nodded slowly. "I'm going to Sundermont tomorrow to help the Dalish hunters with something. I'd enjoy it, if you came."

He didn't hesitate in his acceptance this time.

"Good." She said softly as she turned to leave. "Good night, Fenris."Just before she left she tossed a quick smile over her shoulder; a smile meant just for him.

And Fenris felt lighter than he had in months.


AN:

A chapter filled with angst and a happy ending! But can happy endings last?

...and what will be the dire effect of the powder?

Come in next time to read: The Fall!


I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. If you did please review.

and check out my all canon, regularly updated story: Undone


Reviewers:

Kurgs: thank you so much! and don't worry, this is a Fenris based story.

LightsAurora: nope, Halbert did not plan it. but can you guess what the powders side-effect is now?^^...and I tried to make the character pov switches more clear this time, thanks for the check!

Stargazer177: thank you, and I never cared for Anders either, but there is more drama if Hawke does.

Rokubi: Thanks!

and thank you to the many people who are watching this story!