My sincere thanks again to Shakespira and to all of you following the story.
~o~O~o~
Since he'd ensconced himself in Danarius's mansion, Fenris had established a daily routine that he rarely deviated from. He always rose before the sun, ate, trained and performed his ablutions. Everything was always in place for him. His clothes were laid out in his room, his cup and plate were always in the same place in the kitchen, and his towels and soap were always left next to his bathtub, along with two buckets, which he used to empty and fill the tub. He knew precisely how many trips to the well he needed to make for his bathwater, and exactly at what time he would need to refresh the fire in the vestibule.
Fenris's routine was one aspect of his life over which he had total control; one of the few things he owned besides his sword and his clothing. Only on a handful of occasions had he allowed his routine to slide: the times when, alone and fearful for his life, he'd turned to alcohol to stop the walls of the mansion from closing in on him, to silence the inner voice that told him he was worthless, to obscure the memories and stop the nightmares.
He'd let his routine slip last night, as well, but not for any sinister reason. After spending an enjoyable night with Hawke, Varric and the others, he'd returned to the mansion feeling light in body and spirit, and, after completing another security check, he'd retired, deciding he would empty and refill the bathtub, and select his clothes, in the morning.
Having done this, and following another sweep of the mansion and a small breakfast of tea and toast, he took his sword and went downstairs to the main reception area of the mansion, where there was ample room in which to perform his exercises, and began with some basic defensive stances.
Training first thing in the morning was a recent change to his routine. Previously, he'd trained in the afternoon or evening, but, following a discussion with Hawke, the two men had agreed to conduct their reading lesson at eleven bells each day; unless, that was, they were on a job. As Hawke had no work today, Fenris wanted to be ready for when he arrived.
Moving onto his repertoire of attack moves, Fenris decided that the wingback chair in the corner would be his 'opponent'. Most of the furniture in the reception area was by now covered in notches and slashes, all except for the settee that Hawke had once slept upon. He walked over to the chair, moved it away from the wall, and began his moves. He'd not yet opened the drapes in here, as any passers-by would no doubt think him insane for sparring with a chair. Not that he cared what others thought, but he had no wish to draw unnecessary attention to himself, particularly as it appeared that the Guard compliment in Hightown had increased since Aveline's inception as guard-captain.
Stopping for a short rest, Fenris dashed sweat out of his eyes and took a few deep breaths. This was the second day in a row that he'd started to tire earlier than he usually did during his training session; he wasn't sure why, as the weather hadn't been particularly warm recently. In fact, he'd felt tired in general lately, although that hadn't been due to lack of sleep: he never slept well, and had always managed to get by.
He resumed his routine, only to have to stop after a few minutes. He straightened up and once again wiped the sweat from his brow, leaning on his sword. Why did he feel so exhausted? He had stayed out quite late playing cards with Hawke and Varric, and had probably imbibed a whole bottle of wine, but wine had little effect on him, unless he drank so much of it he passed out.
He steeled himself and once again took up his sword, determined to finish his training. After only a short time, however, he was once again forced to stop. Throwing his sword at the chair in frustration, he held his hands up to his face; they were trembling and his arms felt weak. Perhaps training first thing in the morning hadn't been such a good idea, after all? Deciding to re-attempt his training after Hawke had left, and when he'd had a little more to eat, he left his sword where it was and headed upstairs to take his bath.
~o~O~o~
Feeling a little more lively after his bracing bath, Fenris busied himself around the mansion and left briefly to purchase a few groceries, arriving back a short time before Hawke was due to arrive. He went to the kitchen and put some water on to boil for tea, and then made his way back to the vestibule, as he wouldn't hear Hawke's knock from the kitchen, and sat on the window sill, waiting for him to arrive.
Hawke arrived slightly early, and Fenris watched as the mage strolled across the front courtyard and paused outside the front door. Hawke appeared to take a deep breath, and he smoothed down his hair and straightened his robe. He seemed nervous. Fenris released a soft sigh. It was understandable that Hawke would be slightly apprehensive, particularly as the last time the two of them had shared a pleasant day, Fenris had reacted in a negative way the following day.
Well, today was going to be different, he decided. He would greet Hawke politely and would put him at ease. Whatever Hawke's motives, if he had any, he was giving up his own time to do Fenris a service, so the least Fenris could do in return was be civil to him.
Hearing Hawke's distinctive knock, Fenris remained where he was for a moment, not wanting to appear too eager, and slowly walked over to the door, opening it as he heard Hawke clearing his throat.
"Good morning, Hawke," he said pleasantly.
"Fenris! Name me something beginning with 'B'," Hawke said breezily, pointing at the elf.
Fenris dipped his head a little, feeling bashful but also secretly pleased with himself. "Brag master," he said, repeating Hawke's new nickname for him following his victory over Varric the night before. "Come in," he invited, stepping aside to let Hawke in. "I have put some water on for tea; I will go and make it."
"Any biscuits?" Hawke asked cheekily as he entered.
"I will see what I can find," Fenris replied, although he knew he still had some of the shortbread that he and Hawke had made.
"I'll go and set up then, Fenners," Hawke said with a snigger before quickly disappearing into the dining room.
Fenners. That was another nickname he'd been given by Donnic after they'd had a few drinks. Fenris laughed softly to himself as he made his way to the kitchen. He really had enjoyed himself last night, and found himself looking forward to tonight. Donnic had insisted that Fenris play cards at the barracks with him, and the guard and Hawke had launched into a mock argument, culminating in a race to drink a pint to decide the issue, with Donnic winning.
Donnic had also invited Varric and Hawke along to the barracks, although Varric had declined as he'd planned to take Bethany out tonight. Fenris was relieved that Hawke would be going with him; although he knew Donnic, he didn't know any of the other guards and felt more comfortable that someone else he knew, a friend, would be going with him.
Having made the tea, he placed the cups onto a tray, along with some shortbread, and carried it through to the dining room. As he entered, his arms once again felt weak, and he placed the tray down carefully next to Hawke, who looked up at Fenris, frowning.
"Fenris, are you all right? You look hot. I mean…warm, flushed." Hawke tilted his head slightly and stood up. "Are you running a temperature?"
Hawke was a healer, and it would have made sense to tell him that he felt off-colour, but what would Fenris say? That he felt a little tired, a little warm? Hawke would laugh at that, surely.
"I am quite well, thank you," said Fenris, taking his seat. Hawke watched him for a little while longer before taking his own seat next to the elf.
"Are you sure? Your face is all pink," Hawke said with concern, instinctively reaching for Fenris's forehead.
Fenris backed away a little and Hawke retracted his hand with an exasperated sigh. "I am certain," Fenris replied politely. "Shall we begin?"
"All right, then," Hawke answered slowly; a little defensively, Fenris felt.
"The kitchen is rather warm," explained Fenris, not entirely dishonestly. "I appreciate your concern."
Hawke nodded, apparently having accepted Fenris's explanation. "What we're going to do is recap yesterday's lesson, and then today you're going to learn your next set of letters. Is that all right?"
"Of course." Fenris felt his spirits sag a little. Hawke had been so vivacious when he'd first arrived, and was now being polite, wary. Did Hawke know Fenris was lying? Hadn't Fenris once told Hawke he detested dishonesty?
Hawke suddenly sat back in his chair and folded his arms. "You can tell me, you know, Fenris; there's no shame in feeling unwell."
Taken aback, Fenris hesitated.
"Tell me what's wrong," Hawke insisted.
"It…it's nothing," Fenris said quietly.
"I'll be the judge of that. Now, tell me."
Fenris shrugged and clasped his hands together on the table. "I just feel...warm, that's all."
Hawke swivelled in his seat, facing Fenris. "Has this just come on today?"
Fenris shook his head. "Do not trouble yourself over this. I am certain it will pass."
Hawke glanced down at Fenris's hands, noticing that he was clasping them so hard his knuckles had turned white. "Fenris…will you let me examine you? I don't-I don't have to look at you, if you know what I mean, but I would have to touch you."
Fenris gulped, feeling heat wash over him. "What would an examination entail?"
"Well, I would need to touch you; that way, I can detect if anything abnormal is going on in your body. It's not a spell, exactly, but it's an ability I have. I have no idea whether it would cause you any pain or not, though."
"I don't think that will be necessary. If it worsens, I will inform you," Fenris replied.
"Fenris, your face is red," said Hawke impatiently. "Something's obviously wrong. You're not going to be a stubborn arse, are you? Are we going to argue about this?"
"I am not going to argue with you, Hawke." Fenris's reply was polite, but firm.
"Well, neither am I, but…" Hawke glanced at Fenris and knew he wouldn't win the argument. He couldn't force Fenris to be examined. Instead, he held his hands up in front of him and started to remove his papers from his pack. "I give up," he muttered quietly.
Fenris, feeling dejected and guilty, slouched in his chair. Although he no longer suspected that Hawke would harm him, he had no intention of allowing Hawke to examine him. When Hawke had healed Fenris's face at the coast, there had been an intimacy to the mage's touch, and attention, that had both frightened and repelled Fenris. What had really dismayed Fenris, though, was when Hawke had completed his spell and had begun to move his hand away, Fenris had almost asked him to keep it there. He had no idea why; he'd gone so long without physical touch that his body seemed to crave it sometimes, and there was no way he was going to allow Hawke to see that. He would not make a fool of himself for anyone.
Hawke was very quiet as he arranged his papers, and Fenris ventured a quick glance at him. He wore a mask of blandness and nonchalance. Fenris, knowing Hawke to be anything but nonchalant, realised he'd hurt his feelings and felt his stomach twist with guilt.
"Hawke…I apologise if I've offended you," Fenris offered. "I did not mean to…"
"You haven't," was the immediate, slightly brusque reply. "Shall we get started? There's somewhere I need to be in an hour's time."
~o~O~o~
That somewhere turned out to be the Hanged Man, where, after the lesson, Hawke sat on his own and nursed a pint of ale, staring moodily at a wall. He hadn't invited Fenris to join him this time, but he had arranged to meet him in Hightown later that night for their card game at the barracks. He didn't really feel like going, now, but a promise was a promise.
Fenris had hurt his feelings. The whole I-don't-trust-a-mage-enough-to-let-him-touch-me routine of Fenris's, as well as the constant ups and downs between them, were becoming tiresome and draining. Hawke knew he was being unreasonable, as Fenris, of all people, had good reason to distrust mages and to fear their touch, but hadn't Hawke done everything he could to make Fenris comfortable, to put him at ease? Why didn't Fenris trust him, yet? Would he ever trust him? Was there any point in trying anymore?
Hawke threw a few coins onto the table and left the pub, not really sure where to go. He couldn't go home as his mother would be there, and she would instantly know that something was wrong and would want to talk. He couldn't visit Anders at the clinic as Anders would also see that Hawke was troubled and would cheer him up. Hawke didn't want to be cheered up. He was feeling sorry for himself, and when he felt like that, he believed he was perfectly justified in going off somewhere on his own for a sulk. Where, though?
The docks. He didn't know anyone there, and he found a nice quiet spot on the quay, where he sat in between some old crates and watched a ship being loaded. After a while, he ceased to notice the stench of rotting fish and let his eyes wander over to the sea, his vision gradually blurring and coalescing with the haze of the sun. Occasionally, his stomach growled; again, he'd skipped breakfast, and hadn't touched any of Fenris's shortbread, but today he liked how empty the pit of his stomach felt.
~o~O~o~
Hawke did eventually go home once his bout of self-pity had passed. He helped his mother with a few chores and prepared supper, for which Varric and Bethany joined them before their trip to the coast. Leandra had privately asked Hawke a couple of times if he was feeling well, as he seemed rather quiet. Hawke laughed off her concerns, telling her he'd had a late night, and put on a jolly façade during supper. As eight bells approached, however, the familiar roiling and churning of his stomach started.
"So, you'll be off soon with your friend, Fenris?" Leandra asked him with a waggle of her eyebrows. "You've been spending a lot of time with him lately, haven't you?"
"He has indeed," Bethany agreed, smiling slyly. "Maybe the two of you will be taking a stroll of your own along the coast, soon?"
Hawke shook his head briskly. "No. We're just friends, nothing more."
"Are you sure, Brother?"
"Quite sure."
Excusing himself from the table, and with a light-hearted warning to Varric to keep his filthy dwarven hands where his sister could see them, he kissed his mother and sister goodnight and left the house, almost bumping into Fenris on his way out, who stood outside the door.
Hawke stared at him, confused for a moment. "I…thought we were meeting in Hightown?"
"The sun has begun to set," Fenris told him, pointing at the darkening sky. "It is not safe for you to travel through Lowtown alone."
As Fenris turned and headed down the steps, Hawke shook his head and flung his hands in the air in complete bewilderment. When Fenris reached the bottom of the steps, he turned toward Hawke, who was still stood next to the door.
"Do you still wish to go to the barracks with me?" asked Fenris.
"Yes…" Hawke sighed and walked down the steps, staying slightly behind the elf as he walked on. Noticing that Fenris appeared flushed, as he had earlier, he considered asking Fenris if he was feeling better, now, but part of him was still sulking and he didn't want Fenris to know that, nor did he want to get into an argument.
"How are you feeling, Fenris?" Hawke squeezed his eyes shut and cursed inwardly as the words escaped his mouth without his permission.
Fenris paused, allowing Hawke to catch up. "I am well, now, thank you."
"Your face is red again," Hawke observed.
"It's a warm night."
"It must be; you're also sweating."
Fenris wiped his brow but said no more, and the two of them walked through Lowtown, exchanging occasional banal remarks. There was still a degree of tension between them, but neither man cared to acknowledge it, and they reached the Keep in rather a sombre mood.
The guard at the doors had been apprised of their arrival, and he waved them through without a word. When they reached the barracks, Donnic and a few other off-duty guards greeted them enthusiastically and ushered them into a side room.
"Will the two of you be playing together again tonight?" Donnic asked them after the introductions had been made. "Fenris is new to the game, but he's a natural," he explained to his colleagues.
"I don't know," said Hawke warily with a shrug. "It's up to you, Fenris. We'll be playing for real money, tonight."
"I would welcome your counsel, Hawke," Fenris said, half-smiling.
They all took their seats, and, after some banter, the first game began. Although Hawke continued to instruct Fenris on the rules and intricacies of the game, and joined in with the soldiers' ribbing of each other, Fenris felt there was something different about Hawke, tonight: he seemed distracted, distant, but almost imperceptibly so.
After a few hands had been played, though, Hawke seemed to relax a little, as did Fenris. Nevertheless, Fenris felt certain that he was responsible for Hawke's slightly inhibited mood, and intended to speak to Hawke in private at the end of the game.
The end of the game, however, came sooner than they'd anticipated when Varric and Bethany unexpectedly arrived at the barracks.
"Sorry to interrupt your game, fellas," said Varric, entering the room.
"How did you get in here?" Donnic teased, and as Bethany also stepped into the room, the men all rose to their feet.
"It's something called charm," Varric answered with a smirk. "I just wanted a quick word with Hawke and the elf. Won't take long."
Hawke and Fenris stood and walked over to them, and for a moment Fenris felt the weakness return to his arms and legs, but didn't draw attention to it. Nevertheless, Hawke shot him a glance, probably aware that Fenris had started to perspire again.
"Aren't you two supposed to be smooching on a beach or something?" Hawke asked Bethany and Varric.
"Yeah, we were," Varric replied. "We just ran into a little trouble on the way. Rest assured, though, Hawke, that I turned it into a business opportunity. Could be some decent money in this for us, if you're interested."
Hawke and Fenris exchanged a puzzled glance. "Go on," Hawke prompted.
"We ran into this dwarf, name of Javaris Tintop. He and his men were being attacked by spiders, so we stepped in. Turns out, he's doing a job for the Arishok; the guy in charge of the Qunari. This Arishok character wants some rebels destroyed, or something. What were they called…?"
"The Tal'Vashoth?" Fenris asked.
"Yeah, something like that. Anyway, Tintop is looking for some people with more skill than his own men, which wouldn't be hard, believe me. I told him we'd help out, for a price, of course. Ten sovereigns, Hawke. Whadd'ya say?"
"How many of these Tal'Vashoth are there?" asked Hawke.
Varric shrugged. "Who can say? Thing is, we need to go pretty soon. Tintop told me that the Tal…whatever they are, move around all the time. We'll lose them if we don't take care of this now."
Hawke, surmising that the Fog Warriors must have been Tal'Vashoth, turned to Fenris. "How would you feel about this?" he asked the elf.
Fenris thought for a moment before answering. "If the Arishok has indeed ordered the elimination of the Tal'Vashoth, then someone will profit from it, and it may as well be us. I must confess, however, that…" He paused, once again deep in thought.
"Fenris, you don't have to come along for this," said Hawke. "And, if you have any major objections to this, then we won't do it at all."
"But Hawke," Varric protested, "the elf just said that we may as well profit from this."
"Fenris has known Qunari in the past," explained Hawke, but didn't elaborate. "This may not be as straightforward for him as it is for us."
"Did this dwarf seem trustworthy?" Fenris asked Varric.
"That, I can't say, Elf. He was quite insistent that he get this job done, and quickly."
"He didn't want to keep the Arishok waiting," interjected Bethany. "He did seem quite genuine, although there's no way of knowing for certain."
Fenris nodded thoughtfully. "I cannot imagine anyone would be foolish enough to risk incurring the Arishok's wrath by making assumptions on his behalf. I will go with you."
Hawke beckoned Fenris away from Varric and Bethany. "Are you sure, Fenris?" he asked. "I don't know if you're up to this; do you think I haven't noticed that you've been sweating buckets all evening?"
Fenris knew that Hawke was right; as the evening had gone on, Fenris had felt more and more uncomfortable, but he nodded anyway, knowing how much the money for the expedition meant to Hawke. Besides, he wasn't about to let two mages and a dwarf hunt Tal'Vashoth without his protection. "I have endured far greater hardships than a slight fever," he answered.
"I know that, Fenris, but…"
"I am fit to travel with you. Let us be off."
Hawke stared at Fenris for a moment, chewing his bottom lip. He wasn't entirely convinced of Fenris's assertion, but it also occurred to him that Fenris knew his own body, and its limits, and that it would be patronising of him to suggest otherwise.
"All right," conceded Hawke, walking back over to the others with Fenris. "I want Anders along for this," he told them all. "The Qunari are not to be trifled with. I'm not taking any chances."
"I'll go get him," Varric volunteered. "Finish your game. Sunshine, you stay here."
Bethany rolled her eyes. "I've been to Darktown before, silly. Come on." Bethany was already on her way out as she spoke.
Hawke sniggered. "You can see who the boss is there, can't you, Fenris?"
With a smile, partly out of relief that Hawke was joking with him, Fenris nodded. "Indeed."
"The trick is to make her believe she's the boss, Hawke," answered the dwarf with an easy smile. "We'll meet you at Dead Man's Pass; that's where we ran into Tintop."
"Dead Man's Pass?" exclaimed Hawke. "That's not ominous at all, is it? Wait…you took my sister through Dead Man's Pass?"
"I'm already gone, Hawke," chuckled Varric, making a hasty exit.
~o~O~o~
After making a brief stop at home to inform Leandra that he and Bethany would be late, Hawke and Fenris took a slow walk to Dead Man's Pass, guessing they would arrive there before the others. On the way, Fenris took the opportunity to talk to Hawke.
"Hawke, may I speak with you about…this morning?"
"What about this morning?" Hawke asked casually without looking at Fenris.
Fenris's voice grew a little quieter. "I think that I may have offended you; in fact, I am certain of it."
"I wasn't offended," Hawke cut in quickly, still not looking at the elf. "All right, maybe I was a bit." He sighed loudly and displaced his anxiety by straightening his robe. He really didn't know what to say to Fenris. He certainly couldn't tell him that he'd all but given up any hope that they could ever be more than friends. How could they be, if Fenris wouldn't allow Hawke to touch him? He'd been an idiot to think such a thing was possible in the first place.
"I have lost count of the number of times I have apologised to you," Fenris said, shaking his head. "You have been a good friend, as I have already stated. Perhaps it's about time I started behaving like a friend, as well. I'm just not sure how; this is all new to me."
Hawke rubbed his forehead and groaned. "I was just concerned about your health, that's all. That's what I do; I'm a healer. I…oh, I wasn't angry with you, Fenris. Let's just drop it."
Hawke walked ahead a little, his stomach burning. Of course Fenris had reacted the way he had. Why had Hawke just lunged for Fenris's forehead? How else would he have reacted? Fenris hadn't done anything wrong, so why did Hawke feel so frustrated? His thoughts were interrupted as Fenris caught up and stepped in front of Hawke, blocking his path.
"I do not wish to 'drop it'," insisted Fenris. Hawke halted. "You were correct, Hawke; I have not felt like myself for the past few days. If you are still willing, I would appreciate it if you would…examine me, after we are done here."
Hawke's mouth opened a little in surprise, and he cleared his throat. "I might not even need to examine you, Fenris, if you just tell me how you've been feeling. I shouldn't have just…well, this morning. I went about things the wrong way. I'm sorry."
"You did nothing wrong," stated Fenris. He looked up at Hawke, his lips twitching slightly. "This friendship business is not easy, is it?"
"No, it's not." Hawke smiled, and massaged his neck. "Maker, Fenris, I don't know how we haven't killed each other by now."
"You would undoubtedly heal yourself if I attempted that," quipped Fenris, "so I will not waste my time."
Hawke threw his head back and laughed. "I can't heal myself if I'm dead, Fenris."
"I will bear that in mind," replied Fenris, and Hawke laughed again. Fenris took a deep breath and glanced around. "If you wish, you may examine me now," he said with a shrug. He wanted to show Hawke that he trusted him, even though the thought of Hawke's touch elicited a strong desire to run in him.
Hawke continued to walk along, and Fenris followed. "Just tell me why you've been feeling ill, Fenris; I may be able to tell from a description alone. I don't want to examine you unnecessarily, just in case it causes you discomfort."
"Well, I have felt hot, as you know. I have also tired easily with little exertion."
"And you've felt like this for a few days?" asked Hawke.
"Yes, although today it has been more pronounced. I have also felt…weakness."
"Where?" asked Hawke. "All over? Your limbs?"
"Just in my limbs," Fenris answered. "It was particularly noticeable during my training this morning."
"Any problems with your appetite? Are you eating properly? Any trouble with your stomach, bowels?"
"Nothing like that," replied Fenris, shaking his head. "I feel rather foolish telling you this. These complaints are minor."
"They're not minor if they're interfering in your life, Fenris; you told me that you train every day, and this is interfering with that." He grasped his beard for a moment, considering Fenris's symptoms. "Have you been sneezing? Coughing?"
"I do not have a cold," Fenris stated. "This feels…different."
As they were talking, they arrived at Dead Man's Pass and waited for the others to arrive. "You know, Fenris, Anders would be better qualified to examine you than me. I'm good with injuries, but when it comes to illnesses, Anders really knows what he's talking about."
"I would prefer it if you were to examine me."
"But what if I can't tell?" Hawke asked. "Like I said, I'm not the world's greatest authority on illnesses. If I don't know, would you let Anders examine you?"
Fenris's eyes wandered to the ground.
"Well, shall I try, anyway?" offered Hawke, and Fenris nodded. Hawke took a deep breath and positioned himself in front of Fenris. "I'm just going to rest my hands on your arms. Do your markings hurt when they're touched?"
"Not if your touch is gentle," answered Fenris.
"I promise it will be. Please tell me if it hurts, and I'll stop immediately. Agreed?"
"Agreed." Fenris straightened up and Hawke raised his hands, softly resting them against Fenris's bare arms. He looked at Fenris's face and noticed that the elf was sweating, and that his cheeks were once again flushed.
Hawke closed his eyes and, for a moment, was unable to concentrate; the feel of Fenris's hard, taut muscles under his hand, and the heat of his markings against the coolness of his skin almost made Hawke forget what he was supposed to be doing. Feeling dizzy and hot, he pushed all thoughts of Fenris's muscles out of his mind and focused on his task. Gripping Fenris's arms lightly, he pulled the Fade open and waited.
Making a connection, he listened as his own heart beat in rhythm with Fenris's, and Hawke felt his body temperature rise to match that of the elf's. He then felt his blood rush into his head and immediately he could feel his own blood pulsating through every vein in his body. Hawke felt himself break into a sweat and his arms and legs were beset by sudden weakness. He felt exactly what Fenris had been experiencing, and once again his blood rushed around his body, making him giddy.
The blood. That was it; there was something wrong with Fenris's blood.
Hawke's eyes opened and he blinked several times, noticing the look of concern on Fenris's face.
"Hawke…are you all right?"
Hawke blew a strand of hair off his face and steadied his breathing, realising he was panting. "Your blood," he mumbled. "There's something in your blood."
Although Hawke had not yet removed his hands from Fenris's arms, he let them rest there, seeing no distress on Fenris's face.
"My blood? What do you mean?"
Hawke blinked again. "Sorry, Fenris, just give me a sec…this takes a bit out of me. Was it all right? Did you feel any pain? Discomfort?"
"No," answered Fenris truthfully.
"Good." Hawke stared at his hands for a moment, and slowly removed them from Fenris's arms. "Your blood…it's…different," he said, shaking his head.
"Different? Explain," demanded Fenris.
"Well, I've examined and treated elves before, and your blood is different to theirs, that's all. I'm sorry I can't be any more specific than that; as I said, Anders would be able to shed more light on it. It's possible that there's a poison or infection at work in your body; that would certainly change the nature of your blood. Have you been wounded by an arrow or dagger lately?"
Fenris shook his head and turned away, concerned at Hawke's words.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Fenris," Hawke said. "I'm really not a very good healer; I didn't have the education that Anders did. He'll be able to pinpoint the cause, I'm certain."
Fenris turned back, and Hawke could see a hint of fear in the elf's eyes. "Do not underestimate yourself, Hawke. You mended my broken leg, after all."
"Broken bones are surprisingly easy to fix, Fenris, but with things like this, I'm all at sea. Anders will be here, soon; I want you to let him examine you."
Fenris shook his head. "No. I would prefer that he does not find out."
"Find out what? That you're ill?"
"No." Fenris glanced at Hawke, fear once again apparent in his eyes. "I have suspected something like this for a long time," he began.
"What?" Hawke asked impatiently.
Fenris grasped his chin and started to pace. "I was told that before I received my markings, Danarius took several samples of my blood and added…other things to them, although what, I do not know. During the procedure, I was forced to drink several concoctions of his, which Danarius claimed would help with the pain, but I felt no such effect." Fenris's eyes fell to Hawke's chest and a pained expression came over him. "I have often speculated that Danarius planted something in me, a security measure, if you will. Perhaps this is it."
Hawke was silent for a moment as he absorbed Fenris's words. "You think he…purposely infected you with something?"
"I would put nothing past him," snarled Fenris. "Perhaps he will have the last laugh, after all."
"But that was three-and-a-half years ago, Fenris," said Hawke, feeling panicked.
"As a mage, you would know whether such a thing is possible," stated Fenris. "Could he implant something in my body that would remain dormant for so long?"
"I-I'm sorry, Fenris, I have no idea. As I said, Anders…"
"Yes, as you said, Anders would know, as clearly you do not!" Fenris snapped and again turned away from Hawke, releasing a shaky breath and meshing his hands together on top of his head. After a moment, he shook his head and slowly turned back to a despondent-looking Hawke. "I…did not mean that, Hawke. Forgive me. You are a fine healer."
"You're really frightened, aren't you?" Hawke asked softly, his voice thick.
"I…" Fenris squeezed his eyes closed and his body sagged, his arms hanging limply at his sides. Hawke took a step closer to him, and, without asking, he gently placed his hands on Fenris's arms. Fenris flinched momentarily, but didn't move away, not wishing to hurt Hawke's feelings again.
"Fenris, I swear to you that we'll get to the bottom of this. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."
Fenris nodded and slowly raised his head, his eyes meeting Hawke's. "I know. I am sorry, Hawke."
"It's all right," Hawke whispered, his eyes moving down to Fenris's mouth. He saw the bob of the elf's adam's apple and felt Fenris's muscles tighten beneath his hands. Without warning, Fenris pulled away.
"Fenris, I-I'm sorry…" Hawke stammered, but was silenced when Fenris placed a finger against his own mouth.
"Voices," the elf whispered, moving behind a large rock and gesturing for Hawke to join him.
"It could be the others," guessed Hawke as he crouched down next to Fenris.
"No; the voices are coming from the wrong direction," Fenris told him quietly, and the two of them listened carefully.
A moment later, Fenris removed his sword from his back. "It is the Tal'Vashoth," declared the elf gravely. "I recognise their words. They know we are here."