Hawke strolled through Hightown, humming softly to himself. Although he was tired, his steps were light and his spirits high; not only had he managed to piss Gamlen off, which was never a bad thing, but he'd made his friend Anders happy, too. Although Anders was generally cheerful and optimistic, he was prone to the occasional bout of melancholy, which, given his past and his inhabitation by a grim Fade spirit, Hawke could understand, and Hawke took every opportunity he could to boost Anders's morale and confidence.

He'd also found aiding the refugees very rewarding, and could certainly see the allure of being a full-time healer; he'd seriously considered it as a vocation once the deep roads expedition was over with, and once he'd made enough money for his sister and mother to live comfortably. For now, funding the expedition was his primary concern, and all else would have to wait.

And then, there had been the breakthrough with Fenris; at least Hawke considered it a breakthrough, anyway. Fenris had actually allowed Hawke to touch him, and had trusted him to use magic on him. Granted, there had been little alternative, save leaving Fenris to bleed to death, but still, Hawke felt he'd secured a minor victory of sorts, and something danced within him at the thought of that.

"I do good work," he said quietly to himself, grinning wryly.

Not only had he managed to alleviate Fenris's terror…

He stopped humming and paused.

Fenris had been terrified. As Hawke had begun his ministrations, he'd glanced at the elf in between his spells and had seen Fenris's eyes glaze over, his breathing quicken, sweat form on his brow. Hawke could almost hear Fenris's heart hammering against his breastbone. Although Fenris had not once taken his eyes off him, at one point Hawke had noticed that Fenris was not looking at him, but through him; he had ceased to see Hawke at all and was experiencing an entirely different reality.

He'd been somewhere else.

As a result of helping Fenris through that, Hawke felt as though their rapport had been strengthened somewhat, which pleased him. Resuming his walk, he entered the grounds of Danarius's mansion and arrived at the front door, relieved to see that Varric had finally got round to having a lock fitted on it. He rang the servants' bell pull, as Fenris had advised Hawke that he may not hear a knock upon the door, and waited. After a few minutes, he heard a click, and the door was opened.

"Good afternoon, Fenris; sorry I'm a bit late, but I was held up."

"Hawke." Fenris nodded once and stood in the doorway.

"Erm…I just came to see how your leg was? Like we arranged last night?"

"My leg is fine, thank you." Fenris did not move from the doorway, nor did he invite Hawke to enter.

"Oh…well, that's good, then. Um…any stiffness? Are you still limping?"

"No."

Hawke scratched the back of his head. "Right. Well, erm, I just wanted to let you know that we're heading back to the coast in a while. We have a job with the Templars; at least I think it's the Templars…" He glanced at Fenris, who stared blankly back at him. "If you feel up to it, I'd really like for you to come along. We'll be meeting up…probably around teatime."

"The Hanged Man?" asked Fenris.

"Where else?" Hawke chuckled, his smile quickly fading at Fenris's stony expression. "Fenris, you look tired; did you sleep well?"

"Yes," Fenris lied in a flat voice. "I will meet you there later." He began to close the door.

"Fenris…" Hawke placed his hand on the door, before quickly removing it. "Are you all right?"

"I am well, as I have already stated."

"Have I…have I done something to offend you?"

Fenris's gaze dropped to the ground. "No…" He shook his head and took a deep breath. "Thank you for calling on me; I will meet with you shortly."

Crestfallen and confused, Hawke nodded slowly. "All right…I guess I'll see you later, then?"

Fenris returned his nod and closed the door, turning the key in the lock. He exhaled and covered his eyes with one hand, and then walked over to a window next to the door, and watched from behind the drapes as Hawke left. Seeing the mage's frown and dejected posture, Fenris felt a pang of guilt, but during the night he had resolved to stand firm: he'd been careless, and steps needed to be taken.

Not only had he thrown his lot in with a band of mages, one of whom was possessed, and another, a Dalish blood mage, but he'd foolishly let his guard down around Hawke, and had even begun to enjoy his company. No matter how benign Hawke's offer of friendship had appeared to be, Fenris knew from bitter experience that all mages, no matter how well-intentioned, would eventually succumb either to demonic influence or to their innate craving for power. Mages were born that way, and he castigated himself for believing that Hawke may somehow be different from the rest of them. Hawke was a mage, and therefore his path was already laid before him, his story already written.

As Hawke left the grounds, Fenris sagged against the drapes, partly in relief, and partly due to something else he couldn't quite define; whatever it was, it didn't feel pleasant. He sat upon the window sill and looked down at his leg, recalling the feel of Hawke's hands upon it the night before. He hadn't allowed anyone to touch him in that way for almost three years, since…

He'd fully expected Hawke to try to harm him, or to touch him in a way that was not appropriate, but the mage had been patient, considerate and gentle with him. Fenris certainly hadn't expected that. Hawke had seemed to know that Fenris had been in trouble, had called him away from the dark memories that had invaded his mind, and had ordered him to focus on his face. Hawke had known.

And, as Fenris had complied, he'd seen something in Hawke's brown eyes that was unfamiliar, yet somehow comforting, and he'd been caught up in the mage's friendly and easy conversation, finding solace in his words. There had been almost an intimacy to their exchange as Hawke had beguiled him with his kind words and his soft touch.

He could never place himself in such a vulnerable position again.

Hawke was a mage, albeit one that came in the guise of a friend, but Fenris had managed quite well without friends since fleeing Minrathous, and could not allow himself to get close to anyone; his only goal must be to await the return of his former master, and to make him beg for death as Fenris slowly squeezed the life out of him. He did not need friends for that.

"I am better off on my own," he said to himself.

~o~O~o~

Although The Hanged Man was packed full, with conversation and laughter filling the lounge, the occupants of one table were curiously quiet. Bethany and Merrill conversed politely, their chatter somewhat subdued by the heavy atmosphere that hung over their table like a black storm cloud. Anders, who was sat next to Bethany, watched Hawke, who sat on the opposite side of the table apart from the others as he stared into space, his left hand fiddling with a beer mat. Both men's ales sat untouched.

"Oh, look; that…that guard woman's here," announced Merrill as Aveline strode through the lounge towards them. "I think it's her, anyway; is it her, Hawke? Hawke?"

"What?" Hawke's eyes flitted over to Merrill, but his head did not move.

"I was just saying…well, she's here, now. Doesn't matter."

"Hawke, we have a problem," Aveline announced, sitting on the bench next to him. He shifted slightly and edged away from her, his eyes glazing over as she began to tell him of Captain Jeven's unexpected reaction to their initiative.

"That sounds a bit dodgy, to me," said Anders, glad for the chance of participating in a conversation that didn't involve hair and beauty tips. "You'd think he'd have been pleased."

"You would, wouldn't you?" Aveline agreed. "I've suspected for a while now that Jeven doesn't fly straight. I get the feeling that the satchel was never meant to reach Lowtown."

"Satchel? What satchel? What are you on about?" Hawke asked irritably.

"What…? I've just spent the last five minutes telling you, Hawke! Pay attention this time, will you?" An exasperated Aveline repeated her story, ensuring that this time Hawke was listening. "I need you to come with me to Lowtown, tonight. Guardsman Donnic will be carrying the satchel then, and, if my suspicions are correct, we'll catch them in the act, and save Donnic from a beating, or worse."

"Aveline," sighed Hawke, "don't you think you should get some of the other guards to help you with this?"

"No, I can't," she said emphatically. "If I'm wrong about this, then I'll be thrown out of the Guard, maybe even imprisoned. I'll not risk any of my colleagues on the strength of a hunch."

Hawke folded his arms and huffed. "And then will we get this reward you promised us?"

"This is more important than a reward, Hawke," Aveline urged. "Look, I know you're tired after last night, but I can't do this without you. Please; I'm asking you."

"Well, we're heading out to the coast again soon," Hawke answered, rolling his head on his shoulders. "I don't know what time we'll be back."

"What for? Is it urgent?" she asked.

"We're helping someone out, and yes, it does sound quite important. We're just waiting for Varric and Fenris to arrive."

"Well, I'm off-duty now until tonight," said Aveline. "Do you need an extra pair of hands? Is that fair? I help you out in return for the help you've given me?"

Hawke smiled wanly. "All right, then, but you'll still owe us for tonight."

"You drive a hard bargain, Hawke," she answered, "but, fair enough: I owe you one. Deal?"

"Deal," Hawke answered, and the two of them shook hands.

"Over here, Varric!" called out Bethany, waving as the dwarf entered the pub.

Squeezing through the punters, Varric arrived at their table, and frowned as he looked at his friends. "Ok, who died?"

"Oh, nobody's died," Merrill piped up, "but Hawke's in a bit of a strop." She cringed, expecting a fierce comeback from Hawke, and was surprised when none came.

"I'm just tired," Hawke claimed, avoiding Anders's gaze. Anders had questioned him earlier on the reason for his sour mood upon returning from visiting with Fenris, but Hawke had evaded his questions, quickly changing the subject.

Varric slapped Hawke's back. "Well, nothing like a nice bracing walk to the coast to remedy that, huh?"

"Go to the Stone, Dwarf," Hawke groused.

"Not yet; not until I say so," Varric chirped with a wink at Bethany. "Come on; the elf's outside. I think we're all ready. Sooner we go, sooner we get back."

"What, Fenris is outside?" asked Anders. "Why hasn't he come in?"

Varric shrugged, turned away, and started to clear a path through the throng. "Come on, you bunch of drunken bums! Make way! There are ladies coming through!"

The regulars stepped aside to let Bethany and Merrill pass, and Hawke, taking a large gulp of ale before standing up, also made his way out, unaware that Anders, who followed close behind, was still watching him.

Spilling out onto the street, they immediately spotted an agitated-looking Fenris across the way being harassed by a woman.

"Stop…looking at me like that!" he complained, leaning away from her as she flashed a lecherous grin at him.

"Isabela. Fancy seeing you here," Hawke said sternly, as he and the others walked over to them.

"Oh, Hawke!" she trilled, her eyes wandering over his body as Fenris hastily distanced himself from her. "My, my; you do look handsome today."

"Forget it," snapped Hawke. "Where's our money? My friends here gave up their spare time and put themselves at risk for you. Flattery won't get you out of this."

"All right, all right," she grumbled, reaching into a small pouch on her dress. "I have a bit." She handed two sovereigns over to him. "Just…don't ask how I came by it, ok?"

"Doesn't take a genius," muttered Aveline with a narrow-eyed glance at the barely-dressed pirate.

"I couldn't care less how you came by it," answered Hawke, "but you owe us two more. You took four people with you; that's a sovereign apiece."

"I wasn't aware you had a price list," Isabela countered, mirroring Hawke's stance by folding her arms.

"I've just started one, right now."

"I'm honoured that you would make up a price list just for me! Fine; I owe you two sovereigns. Now, where are you all off to?"

"Nowhere you'd be interested in," said Hawke. "Let me know when you have the rest of our money." He turned away and began to walk away from her, as did the others.

"Hey! Hold on a second!" she called, running after them and catching up to Hawke. "Come on, let me make it up to you!" she urged, slipping an arm around Hawke's. He glanced down at it and tried to pull away, but Isabela was having none of it. "Are you going to do one of your jobs? Let me come along; I could be useful to you. Just ask the dwarf; he was mightily impressed with my skills last night, isn't that right?" she said to Varric.

Hawke finally freed himself from her grasp and joined Varric next to Bethany. "What do you think?" he asked the dwarf.

Varric shrugged. "Well, I'm guessing she's not the most reliable person in the world, but she is pretty nifty with those daggers of hers, and you did say you wanted as many people along on this as possible. It's your call, Hawke."

Hawke nodded at Varric and walked back over to Isabela. "All right, you can come," he told her, "but you won't be getting a cut, if we make any money from this, that is."

A wide grin spread across the Rivaini's face, and she winked at him. "You are hard, aren't you?" She sidled closer to him and lowered her voice. "You know what they say, handsome; a hard man is good to find."

A nervous chuckle escaped Hawke's lips. "Look, you really are wasting your time, you know."

Isabela frowned and pouted. "What, don't tell me you don't…dabble occasionally?"

"Never," he answered with a firm shake of his head.

"Ho-hum," she said with a shrug, and once again threw him a wink. "I'll just have to put all of my energies into our handsome elf, then. Your loss, darling."

Watching as she sashayed over toward Fenris, Hawke felt an unexpected flicker of irritation, and then, without knowing why, an immense sense of gratitude as Bethany distracted the pirate and called her over for a chat, leaving Fenris to continue on alone.

As they made their way out of Kirkwall, they split into a few small groups; Merrill with Isabela, Varric with Bethany and Hawke with Anders. Fenris walked a distance ahead, having not spoken a word to anyone since their departure, and Aveline, who seemed to have appointed herself as leader of their group – something Hawke was quite happy for her to do – walked not far behind the elf, occasionally checking on the rest of her companions.

Anders did his best to cheer Hawke up, who had fallen quiet again after his conversation with Isabela, and, noticing that Hawke's gaze kept wandering over to Fenris, decided to press him.

"Hawke…are you going to tell me what happened earlier on?" he asked quietly.

"What do you mean?" Hawke mumbled.

Anders tutted. "Come on, Hawke; you haven't been yourself at all since you got back from the mansion. What did he say to you? What's he done to upset you?"

Surprised at the anger in Anders's voice, Hawke glanced at him and then looked straight ahead, shaking his head.

"I don't know, Anders," he said quietly with a lethargic shrug. "I don't get it. Last night…when I was healing him…I thought…" He shook his head again and fell silent.

"You thought what, Hawke?"

"I just thought that we were getting somewhere, you know? Like he'd finally started to trust me a bit. He even cracked a few jokes on the way home. When I went to see him earlier, though…I don't get it, Anders," he repeated with a sigh. "He was so…cold towards me. I don't understand what I did wrong."

"I think I understand," Anders said in a hard tone. "He was injured, and the only person he had on hand to help was a mage. He probably resents that."

"But he didn't seem to at the time," Hawke argued. "We had a long walk back to Kirkwall and he was absolutely fine with me; I even began to see his sense of humour coming through. He has a very dry wit, you know; he makes me laugh."

Hawke detected a slight shift in the air around them which resonated with his mana field, and knew that Anders was bristling. He sighed. "I don't know why I'm letting this get to me, Anders; after all, I hardly know him, do I?"

"That's right," replied Anders, trying to keep his voice steady, although he knew that Hawke must be aware of his anger. "You don't need him; remember how he reacted when he first found out we were mages? He obviously detests us. I'm sure his master was a prick to him, but that's hardly our fault, is it?"

"Perhaps you're right," sighed Hawke, his posture drooping. Anders slung an arm around Hawke's shoulders, saddened at his low mood, but something inside him rejoiced, also.

"Remember what you said, Hawke: we mages must stick together, yes? He obviously doesn't want to be friends with you, so don't waste any more time on him. You know who your real friends are."

Hawke smiled thinly and looked into Anders's eyes. "Yes, I know, Anders. You're a good friend." He wrapped his arm around Anders's waist and Anders slapped Hawke's shoulder a few times. Hawke released him and they continued to walk on, with Anders watching him for a little while longer, before launching into his repertoire of bawdy jokes.

~o~O~o~

Having skipped afternoon tea, some of Hawke's party started to complain of feeling hungry after a while, so they all stopped for a bite to eat. Anders, who had not left Hawke's side the whole time, argued with Hawke's insistence that he speak to Fenris.

"Don't give him the satisfaction, Hawke," he implored.

"No, I'm going to have it out with him," insisted Hawke, who by now was feeling indignant. "I only went to check on him and he made me feel like a piece of shit. I want to know why."

"Well, don't let him talk you round with an empty apology," said Anders as Hawke approached Fenris, who was leaning against a rock away from the others.

"Fenris," Hawke said sternly, causing the elf to start slightly. "I want to talk to you."

"Yes?" asked Fenris warily, backing away slightly as Hawke neared him.

"When I came to see you this afternoon, I was concerned about your leg. I thought I'd done a pretty poor job of healing it and wanted to see if there was anything more I could do," he said, unable to keep the hurt out of his voice. "The way you spoke to me…I don't think I deserved that, Fenris. Was it because I'm a mage? Because I put my hands on you? I'd really like to know because I'm pretty confused at the moment."

Stunned, Fenris stared at Hawke with wide eyes, struggling to come up with an answer.

Hawke nodded, anger flashing in his eyes. "I think I get it. It just would have been nice if you'd had the decency to be honest with me, that's all. At least I know where I stand, now."

A hot, heavy sensation settled in Fenris's stomach as Hawke stomped away, and, as his eyes met those of Anders, who'd been watching the exchange with a raised eyebrow, Fenris's eyes narrowed and they stared each other down, until he was distracted by Aveline, who, having been apprised of Hawke's suspicion that they were walking into a trap, wanted to talk tactics with him.

As Hawke disappeared behind a rock to answer a call of nature, Anders made his way over to Isabela, who was squatting down, sharpening her blades on a small rock.

"You shouldn't give up on the elf so easily, you know," he advised with a sly grin as she looked up at him.

"No?" she asked, straightening up. "Well, I do like men who play hard to get, but not that bloody hard to get."

"He's just shy," said Anders with a dismissive shake of his head. "And he does have rather a big sword…"

Sharing a laugh with him, Isabela saucily cocked an eyebrow and looked over at Fenris, who, having been watching Anders, turned away under her scrutiny. "You think? I just need to work on him a bit more?"

"Definitely," he replied. "Just a bit of advice: don't get touching him. He hates that. But talking, you should be safe with."

"He hates being touched?"

"Very much so."

"Well if that isn't a challenge, I don't know what is!" She wiggled her eyebrows at Anders and started walking over to the elf.

"Isabela," he called. "Seriously. Don't touch him."

With a wink, she swayed her hips as she walked away from him. Anders bit his bottom lip and stifled a giggle just as Hawke emerged from behind the rock.

"Feel better?" chirped Anders.

"Mm," Hawke mumbled absently. "Is everyone ready to go?" he asked the others, most of whom nodded. "Let's get going then; I don't want to be out too late," he added with a yawn.

Following the directions on the hand-drawn map, they soon arrived at a junction. Hawke stopped and examined the map again. "This is it," he announced. "We're not far."

As his companions readied their weapons, Hawke noticed Anders sway a little as they walked forward. He placed his hand on Anders's back, who by now had halted, rubbing his forehead.

"Anders? What's the matter?" asked Hawke.

Anders led him away from the others, blinking rapidly to maintain his focus. "Justice is agitated," he told Hawke.

"Do you know why?"

Anders shook his head as Varric walked over to them.

"Everything ok, Blondie?"

"We're not sure," said Hawke, nodding over at the path ahead. "What can you see?"

"There's a lone templar standing outside a cave," Varric replied. "Can't see anyone else around."

"Anders, do you think you can keep Justice under control while we speak to the templar?" asked Hawke. "He may be the one who sent me the letter."

Anders nodded slowly and took a deep breath. "I'll talk to him. You go on ahead."

"You sure?" asked Hawke.

Anders nodded again. Hawke slapped his shoulder. "All right. See you in a bit," he said, and joined Varric as they walked around a bend to speak to the templar.