The long trek to the Wounded Coast had been uneventful and largely conversation-free, apart from the odd time they'd bumped into one of the city patrols, and Aveline had stopped for a few minutes to chat with her colleagues. Although the small party had been quiet for much of the three-hour journey, the mood among them was not sour or hostile, but, rather, thoughtful.

Hawke, on Aveline's insistence, had dropped back a little, allowing the two seasoned warriors to flank the path ahead, while Hawke kept his eyes on the horizon and the tops of the dunes and rocks. Their path was already faintly-lit as the moon was out, but Hawke summoned a small wisp that hovered between Fenris and Aveline, affording them a little more light. To Hawke's amusement, whenever the tiny sphere of light drifted too close to Fenris, the elf would cast a filthy look at it and swat it away.

Occasionally, Aveline would glance back at Hawke, as would Fenris, and, once assured that he was safe, she would nod and turn back toward the path, immediately mimicked by Fenris. After a while, Hawke started to return her nods. He had to hand it to her: she hadn't let his earlier hostility faze her in the slightest, nor had she let it stop her from looking out for the two men that accompanied her, enquiring if Fenris's feet were faring well, and receiving a polite reply in the affirmative.

Hawke had to admit to himself that Varric had been right: although he'd initially groaned at the thought of another slog to the coast, he was actually finding the walk quite invigorating, in spite of his aching feet. As rock turned to sand beneath them, and, as the shadow of Sundermount loomed to the west, somehow darker than the ink-black sky, to occupy himself, he took a leaf out of Anders's book and began looking around for sights of natural beauty, finding a few interesting shells and coloured pebbles, which he discreetly tucked into his pack.

He allowed his thoughts to wander for a while, lulled by the crisp, salt-tanged air and the faint sound of gentle waves lapping against the shoreline, and considered the fragile rapport that he and Fenris had recently established. His eyes wandered over to the elf, whose movements, in sharp contrast to Aveline's steady, purposeful stride, were jerky, erratic and tense. His head seemed to be constantly on the move, his eyes darting here and there, and his arms were crooked, his shoulders stiff, and his hands tightly balled.

There were so many things that Hawke wanted to ask him, so many questions that had come to light, but he'd refrained from doing so; he didn't know the elf well enough. It was none of his business. Still, he'd been deeply troubled by Fenris's dream that night on the coast, and even more concerned at the possible explanations his mind had manufactured. Although Hawke had told himself that he could be wrong, that he could be jumping to conclusions, each time he'd thought back to that night, only one conclusion had repeatedly presented itself, and it hadn't just jumped, it had leaped.

Despite the life Fenris had led, which had only been tantalisingly hinted at thus far, and despite his almost-permanent scowl and sometimes caustic remarks, Hawke found himself admiring Fenris's quiet ways, his dignity and proud carriage. There was almost a nobility about him, a sentiment that Fenris would no doubt rebuff, but Hawke saw it very clearly. Although Fenris clearly had grievances with mages, he had always been polite and respectful to Bethany, and, although he plainly disapproved of Anders's inhabitation by a Fade spirit, and Merrill's use of blood magic, still he had not hesitated to protect them on the few occasions he'd accompanied them.

Hawke had to admit: he found the walking contradiction that was Fenris fascinating, and longed to know more about him.

Snapping himself back to reality, his eyes returned to the elf's wiry frame, his breath catching as he realised that the two warriors had stopped, and that Fenris was watching Hawke, having caught him staring.

Aveline beckoned them closer and whispered, "The ambush site's not far. I recommend that you remove this little light," she said, pointing at Hawke's tiny wisp, "and make whatever preparations you need. I want you to stay well back, Hawke, and stick to what you're best at. No heroics. Fenris and I will draw their attention, and you can work your…well, you know, magic."

"All right, Aveline," agreed Hawke, dismissing the wisp with a flick of his hand. "I'm going to give the two of you some protection. Is that all right?"

Aveline nodded, but Fenris, who had readied his sword, shook his head. "I need no protection," he proclaimed.

"Fenris," Aveline argued, "I've fought alongside Hawke before, and some of his abilities are very useful to people like us…"

"The answer is no."

"If you become injured, Fenris, I will heal you," insisted Hawke.

"That's right," replied Aveline in a sterner tone. "I know not everyone trusts magic, but I won't have you slowing us down because of some skewed perception you have of it. Accept his offer, and let's get this job done." She strode ahead, leaving the two men alone.

"I don't have to touch you to put magic on you, you know," Hawke said quietly.

Fenris tilted his head back a little in a display that Hawke was unsure was down to defiance, or uncertainty. It was clear by now that the two men knew of Fenris's aversion to physical touch, and it was also obvious that Hawke seemed to be respectful, or at least mindful, of that.

Then, Hawke cast his mind back to earlier that day, when a small hand had gently pressed against his back, steering him away from a possible confrontation with a guard at the Keep.

A walking contradiction, indeed.

"And what of healing?" asked Fenris. "Is…physical touch necessary for that?"

"That depends on the severity of the injury."

Fenris nodded gravely, and, for a moment, Hawke thought the elf would take him up on his offer. "I will take my chances, but thank you all the same," said Fenris at last, and he walked away, leaving Hawke shaking his head.

Aveline led the way, and, as they neared a small cove, she felt her muscles tighten, and her heart rate increase, and she knew that Hawke was casting. "Thank you, Hawke," she said as she pressed her back against a rock and craned her neck around it, immediately straightening up. "There's a campfire up ahead; they're around, somewhere. Fenris, you and I…"

"Move!" Hawke yelled, and shoulder-charged Fenris onto the sand just as an arrow glanced off the rock where the elf had previously stood. As Fenris scrambled to his feet, Hawke tracked the trajectory of the arrow and spotted a shadow moving along the rocks just above. "Got him! Go! I'll cover you!" he ordered, and, as Fenris and Aveline ran into the cove, the sniper was punished with flame, his screams bouncing off the rocks.

Although Hawke longed to join the fray, he knew he was more effective as a healer and a buffer if he was alive, and, as he heard Aveline bellowing and the sound of clashing metal rising into the chill night air, and saw the faint glow of Fenris's markings flare into life, he began to methodically pick off the archers hidden in the hills and the undergrowth, using his connection to the Fade to ascertain the position of any other living creatures in the vicinity in relation to his.

Having eliminated them, he broke from cover, ventured nearer to the others and renewed his spells on Aveline, and, with a shrug of his shoulders, bestowed the same bolstering energies upon Fenris. Lyrium-imbued light danced across the sand as Fenris raced to Aveline's side again and again, fighting as one with her, and Hawke obligingly turned some of their assailants into living statues while keeping an eye on his companions' health and vigour.

Eventually, the bandits were defeated, and Hawke's small party came together, the two warriors breathless, bracing their hands against their knees as Hawke approached.

"Are you all right?" he asked them both. "Anyone need healing?"

"I've wrenched my bloody arm," complained Aveline, wincing as she stood up.

"Let's take a look at that," said Hawke with authority, helping her off with her breastplate. He held her arm out straight and, running his hand along her skin, detected a knotting and swelling beginning to form just above her elbow. Closing his eyes, he gently massaged the afflicted spot, a soft light appearing from within Aveline's arm and radiating outward.

"That's much better Hawke; thank you," she said, rolling her shoulder and flexing her arm.

"Fenris?" he asked, turning to the elf, who stepped forward and fixed Hawke with a fierce look.

"You used magic on me," he said, steel in his voice, his eyes glinting ominously in the firelight. "I did not give you leave to do that!" He turned away slightly and began to pace, gesticulating with his hands. "I made my wishes quite clear, and yet you chose to ignore them!"

"I'm sorry," Hawke replied with a shrug. "I thought it might help you."

"I've already told you; I do not need your 'help'," snapped Fenris as he turned and pointed an accusatory finger at Hawke, while Aveline, having replaced her breastplate, began to loot the bodies.

Hawke sighed and blew a stray lock of hair out of his eyes.

"He saved your life, Fenris; you could at least show a little gratitude for that," said Aveline.

"I'm grateful," snarled Fenris, turning away from both of them. "Are we finished here?"

"Yes," replied Aveline, "but we need to get back to the barracks…"

Her words fell on deaf ears as Fenris stalked away into the darkness.

Hawke's jaw set in a firm line, his hands on his hips as he watched Fenris leave. "Why, you stubborn…!"

"Come on, let's get after him," Aveline suggested, running ahead. "There may still be a few of those sods still hanging around."

"Right behind you," answered Hawke, the two of them stopping dead as a piercing yell shattered the stillness of the night.

"Gyaaaaaahhh!"

"Fenris?" Hawke called frantically, his head darting round as he attempted to localise the sound. "Fenris?"

"Shit!" he heard Aveline call from up ahead, "Hawke! Get over here, quickly! He's trodden on a fucking claw trap!"

Racing to her side, Hawke, without thinking consciously, fell to his knees and pulled with all his might against one side of the trap as Aveline yanked at the other. "Harder, Hawke!" she shouted.

"Stercus!" wailed Fenris, his hands covering his face. "Sum stultior quam asinus!"

As the trap sprang open, Fenris collapsed onto all fours and gnashed his teeth, growling and cursing under his breath.

"I need some light!" exclaimed Hawke.

"Wait here!" called Aveline, already running back to the campfire at the cove.

"Fenris…Fenris," entreated Hawke, shuffling forward on his knees. "I need you on your back. Please; I have to heal this immediately."

"Gaaaaahh!" shouted Fenris, attempting to put some weight on his injured leg, only for it to collapse beneath him, sending him sprawling onto his belly.

"Listen to me, Fenris!" pleaded Hawke. "Please, just this once let me help you! You'll bleed to death if you don't!"

"Sum inops!" bleated Fenris, his agony causing his voice to fracture.

"Please, Fenris…use your good leg to turn yourself over…I don't want to touch you without your permission."

Fenris braced his elbows beneath his chest and pushed himself up, immediately falling down flat. "Stercus!" he cursed, panting. "I-I cannot. Yeeaargh!" he yelled as he tried again, without success.

At that moment, Aveline returned, carrying two large branches that she'd set aflame upon the bandits' camp fire. "Here, Hawke." She tossed the branches down.

"Thanks, Aveline. Here, help me with him. I need him lying on his back."

"No!" growled Fenris, still frantically trying to push himself up.

Ignoring him, Hawke and Aveline grabbed his shoulders and pushed him over onto his back. In the light provided by Aveline's fire, Hawke was struck at the look of terror on Fenris's face as he gaped at them both, dumbstruck, his breath coming out in short, harsh bursts.

"It's all right," Hawke said softly, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. "Fenris, we're not going to hurt you, but I have to look at that leg."

Fenris's eyes were fixed upon Hawke, his chest rising and falling rapidly as Hawke edged a little closer.

"What's the matter with him?" Aveline asked. Hawke held one hand up to her and nodded; she nodded back and sat down upon the sand with a confounded sigh.

"Fenris…I'm going to touch your leg. I need to look underneath your breeches. Will you let me do that? I could put you to sleep and do this without your permission, but I would rather not do that. Will you let me help you?"

"I…" mumbled Fenris haltingly, and he gritted his teeth and moaned.

"Look at the blood, Fenris," Hawke said, pointing to the claret-coloured sand beneath the warrior. "If I don't heal you soon, you'll pass out. I can't replace lost blood."

Slowly, Fenris nodded.

"It's going to be all right, Fenris," Hawke said gently, slowly reaching for Fenris's leg.

Fenris watched as Hawke's hand made contact with his breeches and slowly began to tear at the shredded fabric.

"Shit. I think his shinbone's broken," muttered Hawke, spotting an ugly-looking protrusion on the elf's leg.

"Those bastards!" Aveline exclaimed, pushing herself to her feet. "Hawke, I'll leave you to it. I'm going to keep an eye out, just in case. Let me know if you need me."

"Good idea. Be careful," Hawke said to her, and then addressed Fenris. "Your leg is broken, Fenris. I can heal it, but it will take time, and it will be painful."

"I-I understand," whispered Fenris, leaning back on his elbows, a fine sheen of sweat coating his skin.

"I need to put my hands on your leg," Hawke explained. "This kind of injury does require physical contact. I must stop the bleeding before I do anything else. Are you ready?"

Fenris nodded again, anger and terror raging within him. He was completely at Hawke's mercy; if Hawke did try to hurt him, what could he do? His sword lay discarded out of his reach and his body was useless. How else could he defend himself but by crushing Hawke's heart? That was not something he wanted to do but if Hawke gave him no other choice…he held his breath as he felt Hawke's warm hands lightly brush against his skin.

"I'm going to use magic on you now, Fenris."

Fenris nodded again, and, as Hawke's touch became firmer, he felt his stomach plummet and his mouth became bone-dry. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face and he felt a sensation of warmth pour into his leg; he glanced at Hawke and noted the mage's look of determined concentration.

And then, in an instant, Hawke was gone. Darkness bled into his reality and surrounded him. He was in a small place, confined, unable to move. Although he could see nothing, somehow this place seemed familiar to him.

Then he heard it: ragged, erratic breathing, an occasional soft grunt.

He was not alone.

The smell of wine and stale sweat flooded his nostrils and he felt two large, clammy hands grip his leg and slowly move upwards.

"My Little Wolf."

"Fenris! Look at me!"

The darkness receded and once again he was lying on the sand, with Hawke leaning over him, pointing to his own face. Fenris gasped.

"Look at me. Don't take your eyes off me. Listen to my voice. It's me, Fenris. It's Hawke."

Once again, Fenris nodded mutely, and, as his eyes met Hawke's, it finally dawned on him: Hawke understood. Somehow, he understood.

"I've stopped the bleeding," Hawke told him. "Now, I need to mend that bone. This will take me a few minutes, all right? And it will hurt a bit, but I'll do my best to lessen the pain for you."

"Yes," Fenris rasped, his voice thick and unsteady.

"Here," offered Hawke, passing Fenris his water skin, which the elf took. "Don't worry; I cleaned off the vomit."

"Thank you," replied Fenris, and, to Hawke's relief, he felt Fenris relax a little against his touch as he once again placed his hands on the elf's leg.

"Talk to me, Fenris," instructed Hawke as Fenris felt a more powerful, slightly uncomfortable energy flow into his leg.

He took a gulp of water and set the water skin down. "What-what would you have me say?"

Hawke smirked a little. "You could teach me some of those curse words of yours. They sound great, and I could surprise Anders one of the days."

"You wish me to teach you to curse?"

"In Arcanum, yes. I think it's pretty unfair that you get to swear at me when I don't have a clue what you're on about…hold still a sec. This is going to hurt…"

Fenris hissed as a bolt of pain shot up his leg, and then relaxed as it subsided.

"Take a few deep breaths," advised Hawke. "Keep looking at me. Talk to me. I'm almost done."

"Yes," said Fenris. "Er…well, if you wish a phrase suitable for Anders, I could teach you one."

"Please do," Hawke said with a grin, "and make it as insulting as you like."

Hawke felt Fenris's body relax further against his grip, and watched him expectantly.

"Um…something simple. How about…'Dolium Volvitor'."

"Dolium volvitor," repeated Hawke. "What does that mean?"

"An empty cask is easily rolled."

Hawke laughed and repeated the phrase again. "I like that…hang on a second; are you sure I won't be telling Anders that I want to have his babies, or something?"

A pained smile spread across Fenris's face. "No, I assure you that is not what it means, although I could teach you that phrase, also."

"And I can assure you that I don't need to learn that particular phrase," chuckled Hawke. "How about something snappy, like idiot? Twat? Bastard?"

"You could say follis to mean fool, or you could liken him to a beast of burden, which would be asinus."

"Beast of burden? You mean an ass?" Hawke looked up from Fenris's leg and frowned. "I heard you use that word, asinus, when you trapped your leg."

"Yes; I was calling myself an idiot."

Hawke looked down and removed his hands from Fenris's legs. "You're not an idiot, Fenris," he said quietly. He cleared his throat and forced a grin. "All done. It's going to be sore for a while, though; do you think you can manage the walk back?"

"Let us see," said Fenris, and he began to push himself up, but hesitated.

"Here," Hawke said, and Fenris looked up to see the mage's outstretched hands. Fenris stared at them for a moment. "I don't want to be here all night, Fenris," Hawke remonstrated.

Fenris huffed, and then held out his own hands, turning his gauntleted palms upwards. "Be careful," he warned as Hawke grasped his gauntlets, avoiding the spikes, and pulled him up, quickly releasing him.

Fenris steadied himself, dusted himself down, and took a few cautious steps, limping slightly.

Hawke shook his head and tutted loudly. "Anders would have done a much better job; you shouldn't have a limp."

"You have done a fine job, Hawke," Fenris replied unassumingly, and turned toward him. "I…I did not mean to be so discourteous earlier. I merely…"

"No, it was my fault," insisted Hawke. "I shouldn't have used magic on you without your permission. I won't do it again, I promise."

The two men stood in awkward silence for a few moments before Fenris spoke up. "It is done, now." Fenris looked up at Hawke and inclined his head. "Thank you."

"Let's find Aveline," said Hawke, turning away from Fenris to hide his grin. "Aveline?" he called out.

"Here, Hawke," she said from behind them, emerging into the small area that was lit by the burning tree branches. "If there were any more of them, they've scarpered. I've dismantled a couple more traps, and I've cleared a safe path out of here for us. Can you walk?" she asked Fenris.

"I can," he answered.

"Good. Let's get back, then; Captain Jeven will be very interested in what's gone down here." She looked at the two men and smiled. "I think we work well together. Well done, and thank you for your help."

Fenris bowed slightly. "You're welcome," answered Hawke, nodding. "Lead the way, Aveline." He closed his eyes and held out his hand, a tiny ball of light waxing in his palm. Hawke whispered something to it, and it drifted over to Aveline, lighting her path.

As she went on ahead, Hawke walked alongside Fenris, though he maintained a discreet distance. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Fenris glancing down at his leg.

"Is your leg all right, Fenris?" he asked. "Do you feel light-headed? You lost quite a bit of blood."

"I am fine," Fenris answered, and then glanced over at Hawke. "I, um, I don't suppose you know of a spell that mends broken trousers, do you?"

Hawke's laughter rang out and echoed throughout the cove. "I'm afraid not, Fenris; broken bones I can handle, but I'm a bit of an asinus when it comes to broken trouser spells."

To his delight, Fenris smiled, and limped alongside Hawke as they faced the long trudge back to Kirkwall.

~o~O~o~

Their journey was slowed somewhat by Fenris's pace, and, although he doggedly pressed on, Hawke insisted that they stop for a few short breaks along the way, and convinced Fenris, after much debate, to eat something.

As a result of the delay, they didn't arrive back in Kirkwall until the early hours of the morning. Aveline, borrowing a guard who had a rather quiet patrol in Hightown, escorted both Fenris and Hawke back to their homes before turning in for the night herself. Before they parted, Hawke advised Fenris to elevate his leg and promised to call on him later that morning, and Aveline arranged to meet them at The Hanged Man during her break to give them the reward she was certain would be forthcoming.

Hawke unlocked the door to Gamlen's house as quietly as possible, not wishing to wake anyone, and was surprised to find that a few candles, and the fire, were lit in the living room. He opened the door to his mother and Bethany's room, and, without looking in, listened; and, hearing two distinct sets of breathing, he closed the door, satisfied that his sister had arrived home safely.

"What time do you call this?"

"Bloody hell, Gamlen!" Hawke hissed as he spun round to find his uncle entering from the other bedroom. "Don't creep up on me like that!"

"I can do whatever I like," Gamlen said sourly. "This is my home, and yet you and your sister just stroll in at all hours of the night. She only got back an hour ago!"

"Well, when that becomes your business, Uncle, I'll let you know. Until then, don't worry your handsome little head over it," Hawke said with vitriol. "What are you doing up, anyway? Been for one of your strolls through Hightown?"

"As you well know, I have an early shift at the docks," Gamlen spat, not even trying to hide his disgust with his ne'er-do-well nephew. He walked over to a rickety table and picked up a letter, throwing it at Hawke. "This came for you. I am not a messenger service, y'know!"

The letter fell to the floor, and Hawke picked it up just as the front door slammed behind Gamlen. Hawke groaned and sank into an armchair next to the fire, and opened the letter, which bore the seal of the Chantry.

Messere Hawke,

It has come to my attention that you are a man of good character and conscience, having recently aided my fellows. I humbly call upon you to do so again. A situation has arisen that requires both discretion and diplomacy and I would welcome your aid in this matter.

On the reverse of this letter are directions to where you will find me. You may bring others with you, of course, but I ask that you do not reveal this location to any other parties. I will await you there in the hope that you will take up this cause. If you are the man of moral fortitude I believe you to be, then you will do so with all due haste. Thank you.

A friend.

Hawke read the letter a few more times, allowing himself a quiet snigger at being called a man of moral fortitude, and turned the letter over, scrutinising the hand-drawn map on its reverse.

"Oh, you've got to be joking!" he moaned quietly. "The fucking coast again? Why don't I just live there?"

Groaning, he folded the letter, tucked it inside his robe and settled down in the chair, quickly falling asleep.

~o~O~o~

Having slept lightly in the chair, Hawke rose a few hours later and surprised his mother and Bethany by making breakfast for them, before heading for the Hanged Man, where he knew he'd find Varric, no matter how early or late it was. He often wondered if dwarves actually slept at all, or if Varric was just a special case.

He found Varric not in the lounge, but in his room, where he was enjoying a hearty cooked breakfast. Inviting Hawke in, Varric bade him to sit and listened to Hawke's account of the previous night.

"How did you get on at the chantry?" Hawke asked, cheekily helping himself to a sausage.

Varric grimaced. "Well, we did the job," he began, "but there's a problem. That money the Rivaini promised us? She doesn't have it. Said she'd do a few jobs with us to make up for it, but, funnily enough, she's nowhere to be found this morning."

Hawke's face hardened and he shook his head, taking a bite of his sausage. "No, Varric; that's not acceptable. You all put yourselves on the line last night for her. We're not a charitable organisation. If you see her, tell her either she pays up, or she's finished with us."

"Will do, Hawke."

"I had an interesting letter, from a templar, I think," said Hawke, removing the note from his pocket and passing it over to Varric. "It doesn't mention money, but it does bear the Chantry's seal."

Varric scrutinised the letter, and, upon turning it over, burst out laughing. "Hey, Hawke! Your favourite place!"

Hawke growled and rolled his eyes. "I feel like I'm forever doomed to walk to the Wounded Coast and back again. I'm certain my ghost will haunt that path when I die."

"But just think how healthy your ghost will be!" laughed Varric, turning the letter over in his hands. "Hmm. Sounds like this is being done on the sly. We could get some good coin out of this guy, whoever he is."

"It could also be a trap," Hawke warned. "That Knight-Captain…Cullen? Said that not all of his men would be pleased at having to leave Anders alone. If we do this, I want everyone along, just in case."

"That's good thinking, Hawke," replied Varric, returning the letter. "Blondie said he'll be busy at the clinic today, but maybe he'll be free later."

"I'll go and see him," announced Hawke, standing up. "I could do with catching up with him, anyway. Then I need to check on Fenris, see how his leg's holding up. I'll see you…probably later this afternoon?"

"I'll be here," replied Varric, and Hawke, finishing off the stolen sausage, left the room.

~o~O~o~

Varric, for once, hadn't been exaggerating when he'd told Hawke that Anders would be busy. A ship from Ferelden had docked in Kirkwall the day before, meaning a new influx of refugees into the City of Chains, many of whom were in poor health, and they soon found their way to Anders's clinic.

Hawke had to queue to see his friend, and, after waiting in line a while, Anders spotted him and beckoned him over.

"Hawke! Was beginning to think you'd fallen out with me, or something!" Anders, busy healing a young boy's grazed knee, didn't look up as he spoke, and, although his comment was light-hearted, Hawke detected an undertone lacing his words. What that undertone signified, Hawke was uncertain of; he'd heard it before when Anders was upset or irritated over something.

"Do you need some help, Anders?" Hawke offered, looking down the queue that led out of the clinic and around a corner.

"Oh, Maker, yes," Anders groaned, massaging the back of his neck as he sent the young boy on his way. "These poor sods started arriving last night; most of them have lice, and one or two are badly malnourished."

"Last night? Anders, have you had any sleep?"

Anders shook his head and rubbed his eyes hard. "I couldn't very well leave them, could I?"

"Go and get your head down this minute," ordered Hawke, pointing to Anders's private room at the rear of the clinic.

Anders' shoulders slumped. "Normally, I'd argue with you there, Hawke, but I feel like I'm about to drop." He grabbed Hawke's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "Thank you. I'll just have an hour. Give me a shout if there's anything you can't handle."

"I mended a broken leg last night," Hawke told him, beckoning over a woman who stood at the head of the queue. "I'll be fine."

"Who broke their leg?"

"Fenris."

"How did he do that?"

"Claw trap."

Anders winced. "What, he actually let you touch him?"

"He didn't have much choice. Go on; off you go."

"All right. Thanks again, Hawke. Don't let me sleep for too long, else I won't be able to sleep tonight." Anders walked over to the back of the clinic and disappeared down a short flight of steps. Hawke bade the lady to take a seat and introduced himself.

It took almost two-and-a-half hours for Hawke to see to the rest of the refugees. As he tidied up the main room of the clinic, a few more arrived, but Hawke, deeming their afflictions to be minor, told them the clinic was closed, and would re-open in half an hour, unless there was an emergency.

Hawke had only slept for a couple of hours himself, and began to feel it catching up on him. Besides, he needed a little time for his mana reserves to replenish; drinking a lyrium potion was a quick fix, but no substitute for rest, and, as he hadn't had a full night's sleep, his reserves were low, causing him to feel skittish and jumpy.

He went down to Anders's room - which was nothing more than a small storage room with a cot and a few of Anders's meagre belongings scattered about - woke Anders and made them both a cup of tea.

Hawke sat on a wooden box, first testing it to ensure it would hold his weight, and passed a grateful Anders his tea. "Most of them have been treated, now," Hawke told him, wriggling on his makeshift seat and scratching his legs and head.

"I know how you feel," laughed Anders, taking a sip of tea. "All those lice make you feel riffy afterwards, don't they?"

"I've treated myself, but I feel like my body's crawling with them," Hawke complained, raking his scalp with his fingernails.

"I really appreciate your help, Hawke; most of the time, the clinic's fairly quiet, but when the ships arrive from Ferelden, I'm overrun."

"Let me know the next time, Anders; I'll always help out, you know that," answered Hawke, and Anders smiled and nodded in thanks.

"Was there anything in particular you wanted me for?" asked Anders. "Not that I'm unhappy to see you, or anything."

"Erm…oh, yes, we might have some more work from the Templars." He retrieved the letter from inside his robes and passed it to Anders, who read it with interest.

"I wonder what that's about?" said Anders. "It sounds…unofficial, whatever it is."

Hawke nodded. "Varric and I haven't discounted the possibility that it's another lure."

"For me, you mean?" Anders asked, and Hawke nodded.

"You don't have to come if you don't want to. If you do want to, we'll set out as soon as you're free. If the letter is genuine, it sounds like he needs our help fairly soon."

Anders nodded. "All right. I'll finish up here and I'll meet you a bit later. Will you be at The Hanged Man?"

"I will later on, but I'm going to see Fenris, now; I need to check on that leg."

Anders nodded again, a thoughtful look settling over him. "Hawke…I know you probably won't appreciate me saying this, but just be careful with him, all right?"

"What, with Fenris?"

"Yes." Anders took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth. "You've been spending quite a bit of time with him lately. I just…well, I don't want to see you getting hurt, that's all."

Hawke shook his head. "He's not going to hurt me, Anders. I've been getting to know him a little over the past few days, and, although he's not the easiest of people to get on with, I think there's more to him than meets the eye. I think he's actually quite a gentle person."

"Gentle?" Anders laughed, incredulous at Hawke's naivety. "Have you forgotten the part where he plunges his fist into someone's chest and crushes their innards? How he nearly did that to you?"

"No, I can't see him doing that to me. I must admit, I was a bit frightened of him at first, but I think he's more frightened…" Hawke paused, wary of saying too much. "Give him a chance, Anders. I think he's going to become a good friend, and I'd like nothing more than for the two of you to get along."

Anders's eyes lingered on Hawke for a long moment, and he eventually nodded, but didn't look convinced.

Hawke stood up and set his mug down on the wooden box. "Anyway, I'd better go and check on him; I left the poor sod with a limp."

Anders chuckled and shook his head.

"Oh, before I forget, I have something for you," Hawke said, reaching into his small pack. "I found these on the coast last night; I thought maybe you and Justice would appreciate them." He produced a handful of unusual shells and brightly-coloured pebbles.

Anders laughed delightedly and took the tiny gifts into his hand, carefully examining each one; he then looked up at Hawke. "You collected these for me? That was…well, that was really thoughtful of you, Hawke. Thanks."

"Tiny things please tiny minds," Hawke teased. "Well, I'll see you later."

"Thanks again, Hawke; I really mean that," Anders called after him as he climbed the stairs up to the clinic, and he stroked Hawke's gifts between finger and thumb, his eyes lingering on the stairs long after Hawke had departed.