Because I'm an idiot and keep forgetting, I would like to give huge thanks and acknowledgement to Shakespira, a ridiculously talented author who publishes on this very site. Not only does she beta for me, she makes a substantial contribution to the story with her wonderful suggestions and ideas, and it wouldn't be the same without her.

I'd also like to thank all of you for your reviews, favourites and alerts. It makes my day to hear when someone enjoys reading the story as much as I enjoy writing it. :-)

~o~O~o~

"You know, Hawke, I think you may have got away with it!"

The dim glow that surrounded Hawke waned as Anders completed his examination. He removed his hand from Hawke's belly and clapped his friend on the shoulder.

"You should be fit to travel home this morning. I think I've nipped the infection in the bud before it really got started."

Hawke let out a relieved sigh. He'd spent a pain-free, if restless night after Bethany had told him she'd talked with Fenris and had made him aware of a few things. Although the elf had not felt able to speak to Hawke at the time, Bethany had been cautiously optimistic that Fenris would eventually accept Hawke's status as a blood mage, although both of the siblings knew it wouldn't be quite as simple, or easy, as that.

Left alone with his thoughts during the night, Hawke had slept fitfully, and had risen several times, going over to the entrance of his tent and looking across at Fenris's, wondering if the elf was also awake and what must have been going through his mind. On a few occasions, Hawke had felt a compulsion to go over to Fenris's tent, not knowing what he would do once there, but his inner voice had counselled against it. For once, Hawke had listened to it, though it had taken a monumental effort.

Now, as the first tentative rays of the sun splayed over the crest of Sundermount, Hawke heard the others dismantling their tents, having been informed by Anders that they'd be able to travel today. The front of his own tent was open, giving him a direct view of Fenris's; Hawke had not yet seen the elf emerge and no sounds came from within.

"I'm going to get my stuff packed," Anders told him, standing up. "I'll come back in a bit and give you a hand."

Hawke held his hand out to Anders, who shook it. "Anders, I can't thank you enough for what you've done for me. You saved my life."

"It's my job," Anders replied with a chuckle.

"Which you do better than anyone, Anders. Really, thank you."

A look of genuine diffidence came across Anders's face, and he shrugged. "Well, you're welcome. I'll be back in a little while."

As Anders exited, Hawke once again glanced at Fenris's tent and wondered what he was doing. The elf wouldn't have as much to pack as the others. Hawke knew that Fenris only took the bare essentials with him on any journey: dried rations, bedroll, water skin, a change of underclothes, a comb, a bar of soap, and a pouch of soot and salt with a rag for cleaning his teeth. He had probably already packed. Hawke knew that, if they were to travel back to Kirkwall that morning, that he and Fenris would have to see each other eventually, and decided that he may as well be the one to initiate contact; but, each time he started to rise with the intention of going over to Fenris's tent, his treacherous legs turned to jelly.

With a frustrated grunt, he started to gather a few of his belongings together, putting his hands on the books Bethany had brought from home. He still intended to give them to Fenris, and hoped that the elf would be receptive to receiving them. Hawke knew he'd made a mess of things, but he prayed that he and Fenris would somehow be able to salvage at least a friendship out of the wreckage, and that Fenris would keep up his reading, perhaps even with Hawke as his teacher. For now, that was all Hawke dared hope for.

He still felt weak, although he'd played it down to Anders as he was eager to get home. After packing his belongings, he slumped onto his cot and took a pull from his waterskin. A shadow fell across the front of his tent and he looked up, expecting to see Anders.

Fenris silently stepped into the tent, staying as close to the entrance as he could without actually being outside. Hawke slowly rose, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest, but he dared not smile, nor did he step any closer to the elf.

"Fen? A-are you all right? I didn't see you leave your tent…not that I was…well, actually...I was wondering if you were okay."

Fenris straightened up and his eyes moved to Hawke's cot; not for any particular reason, other than the reason of not looking directly at Hawke, and he nodded.

"I went for a walk. I understand that we are to be underway shortly?" asked Fenris. His tone was clipped, and a little weary. "Am I to assume that your condition has improved during the night?"

"Erm, yes…Anders said that I'm out of danger, now. Thank you for asking."

Fenris nodded again and clasped his hands tightly in front of him: the only giveaway that he was nervous.

Hawke cleared his throat and felt a fine sheen of sweat form on his brow. "How was your night, Fen? I-I mean…Fenris. Did you…sleep all right?"

Hawke already knew the answer to that: the grey shadows beneath Fenris's eyes and the dullness of his skin revealed that Fenris had also had a rough night, but Hawke's mind failed to come up with anything more to say than that.

"Not really," answered the elf, still looking at the cot. "I suspect neither of us did."

Hawke nodded, and a few minutes of awkward silence followed.

"Do you-do you think we could…talk?" ventured Hawke anxiously after a while. "If-if you want to, that is. I mean…when it's convenient for you." Hawke cringed at his haltingly formal tone but felt that being familiar would somehow be inappropriate, even though his body screamed to embrace Fenris, or just to touch him; even to stand closer to the elf, but he found he couldn't move an inch.

Fenris's gaze fell to the floor and he cleared his throat, shifting his weight from his left foot to his right. "Not here."

"Fine. T-that's fine," stammered Hawke, anxiety, wretched hope and longing causing his stomach to flip. "Maybe when we get back? When…when you're ready. Whenever you're ready. It-it's up to you."

Fenris took his bottom lip into his mouth and nodded again. "I…well, it is good to hear that your condition has improved."

Fenris ducked under the canopy and walked over to his own tent, feeling Hawke's eyes on his back, and entered, pulling back the flap. He walked over to his cot, moved aside his neatly-arranged belongings, and sat down heavily, placing his head in his hands, taking several deep, tremulous breaths.

Hawke was out of danger.

~o~O~o~

Once ready, the group gave their heartfelt thanks to Keeper Marethari and Hahren Paival for the hospitality and generosity of the clan. Anders enquired about Feynriel, the troubled young mage he'd introduced to the Dalish, and was taken to him, enjoying a brief chat with the boy. Hawke declined to speak to Feynriel, and made an excuse, but the truth was that he didn't want to be associated with anyone even remotely connected with demons while Fenris was around.

Fenris stood apart from the group, and dipped a vague nod when thanks were being given to the clan, but otherwise stayed quiet and kept to himself. Hawke was quiet as well, but he did manage to force a smile as they departed, as he was genuinely grateful to the Dalish for their kindness.

Once out of the camp, the group was led by Fenris, who stayed well ahead but occasionally glanced back, while Varric regaled the rest of them with more of his friend fiction, but wisely chose a story that included neither Fenris nor Hawke. After a while, Hawke started to tire, but declined Anders's offer to support him; Hawke didn't want Anders next to him if Fenris wasn't also there. The canny Bethany sidled over to him and slipped her arm through his, and let her brother lean on her a little.

After finally reaching Kirkwall, the group split. Bethany and Hawke were taken home first, and Anders promised to call on them after seeing if there were any urgent cases at the clinic. Varric told Hawke that he planned to liaise with Bartrand, and would also visit Hawke later with an update on the expedition's progress. Fenris mumbled something about calling at the barracks to report that he was ready to resume his duties, but made no similar promise to call on Hawke. He did, however, have a quiet word with Bethany while Anders took Hawke inside, before setting off for Hightown with Varric.

Leandra gasped as she opened the door; although Hawke put on a brave face, his mother knew him like no other and could see that her son was quite unwell.

Gamlen was also at home, and he stood with hands on hips as Anders and Leandra led Hawke over to an armchair near the fire.

"What trouble have you landed yourself in this time, boy?" Gamlen demanded gruffly.

"Not now, Uncle," Bethany barked, and Gamlen blinked, taken aback at her sharpness.

"He was injured, but is recovering, now," Anders reassured Leandra. "He's going to need to rest for at least a few days, though, and lots of your wonderful home-cooked food. Nothing too rich, mind, and not too much at first; small portions to begin with."

"Sadist," groused Hawke with a tired smile for the women's sake.

"He needs quiet," continued Anders with a sly glance at Gamlen, "and as little stress as possible. Maker knows he's had enough of that for a couple of days."

"Don't worry, Anders; we'll see to that," Bethany answered him. "Mother, Anders has been absolutely wonderful in his care of Fletcher."

"Thank you for taking care of my boy," Leandra said to Anders with a warm smile, clutching his hand. "Won't you stay for some tea?"

"Oh, I'd love to, Ma Hawke, but I really must get back to the clinic. I'll call back a bit later. Maybe then?"

"Count on it, Anders; I'll have some cake for you as well," promised Leandra, and Anders grinned and bowed to her. He reached into his pack and produced a small drawstring bag, which he passed to Leandra.

"He'll need plenty of fluids; make him tea with this and get him to drink as much of it as possible." He glanced over at Hawke, who was already dozing next to the fire. "You can let him sleep for a while, but wake him in a couple of hours; he hasn't eaten solid food since yesterday and will need something soon. Start him off on something bland: rice, potatoes, bread, scrambled egg, maybe? Nothing sweet or fatty, and no meat or fish for now. I'll talk to you later about his diet in more detail. For now, I really must get back to the clinic."

"Thank you so much, Anders," said Leandra.

"See you later," Bethany said to him, and she called over to Gamlen, "Uncle, make yourself useful and show Anders out, would you?"

"What?" spluttered Gamlen, but, with a hard look from Bethany, he decided against arguing and did as he was bid. Once Anders had left, Bethany folded her arms and addressed Gamlen and Leandra, but her words were aimed at her uncle.

"This is what's going to happen today," she said quietly but firmly. "Fletcher is going to rest and everyone is going to be nice to him. He's had a horrid couple of days and needs looking after. Varric is going to come by a little later, and so is Anders. Fenris expects to be back on duty tonight and has gone to get some sleep, but he will also be visiting this afternoon. When he does, Uncle, you are going to take Mother and I out for dinner."

"What do you think I am, made of coin?" argued Gamlen.

"Quiet," hissed Bethany through gritted teeth with a glance at her sleeping brother. "None of your nonsense today, Uncle. For all I care, you can sod off to the Rose once we leave here, but we will leave."

Gamlen blanched at the mention of the Rose, struck dumb at his niece's uncharacteristic belligerence.

"Darling," Leandra cooed, stroking her daughter's arm, "I suspect you are in need of rest, as well. Come; sit down and I'll fetch you some food."

"Yes, Mother," sighed Bethany in apology, and let her mother lead her over to the settee before Leandra busied herself in the kitchen.

Gamlen took a couple of steps closer to his niece and nephew, and chose his words carefully. "What happened?" he asked.

"Are you asking out of concern, or are you just being nosy?" snapped the frazzled Bethany. "He almost died, if you must know. Don't tell Mother that."

"Look; I can see that…" Gamlen sighed and sat on the far end of the settee. "I can see you've both had it rough. You're the world to Leandra and I wouldn't see either of you harmed. I'm short on coin, and even shorter on charm, but if I can do anything to take the load off her, let me know."

A warm glow tickled Bethany's cheeks, and she cast a wry smile Gamlen's way. "Just lay off him, Uncle; that's all I ask. I know that you clash with him sometimes, but you have an awful lot in common, you know. He was also left to manage a house and a family after Father's death, and he was only sixteen. You're not the only one who's had it hard. He's…having a hard time now, as well."

Realising he'd let his curmudgeonly mask slip, Gamlen grunted and pushed himself up. "I'll keep my trap shut, then," he declared, and walked through to the kitchen, closing the door.

Bethany shrugged; Gamlen keeping his mouth shut was better than nothing. She stood up and dragged the settee a short distance over to her brother's chair and lifted his legs up, placing them onto one end of the settee.

"You fat sod, Fletcher," she puffed, struggling with his heavy limbs. Hawke's eyes opened a crack and he smiled blearily, moving his legs to where his sister wanted them. She then took a small cushion and placed it across Hawke's legs and settled down on the settee, laying her head on the cushion.

By the time Leandra came in with a snack for Bethany, both of them were fast asleep. Leandra watched them for several minutes, a few silent tears slipping free as she gazed down at her remaining children, her everything, snuggled up as they used to when they were tots. How quickly the years pass, she mused sadly. Hearing Gamlen crashing around in the kitchen, she wiped her cheeks and drew a deep breath before once again entering the kitchen to see what he was up to.

~o~O~o~

When Varric arrived a few hours later, Hawke had bathed, changed and was sitting at the dining table, making people and dog shapes out of a small bowl of mashed potatoes. Although his stomach growled, demanding food, Fletcher was surprised at how little appetite he had; he just couldn't be bothered to eat, feeling quite full enough of anxiety and bone-weariness. As the dwarf was shown to the table, Leandra admonished her son to eat for the umpteenth time, and Hawke forced a small spoonful down his throat.

"Do you want this?" Hawke whispered with a nod to his bowl.

"Uh-uh; I'm not getting on the wrong side of your mother or your sister," Varric joked. "Now, be a good boy and eat up."

Hawke mustered a half-hearted glare at the dwarf before his shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes for a moment. "How's Bartrand?" he asked listlessly.

"As thick as nug shit, but I'll tell him you asked," quipped Varric. "I just had to stop him from having his men begin felling trees for wood."

"Wood?" Hawke's eyes flew open and his brow creased. "Whatever for?"

"For the expedition," Varric clarified with a shrug, bracing himself for a strong reaction from Hawke. "Fuel, you see, for the fires."

"What? Is he crackers or something?" spluttered Hawke, and Varric bit back a chuckle, glad to see his friend a little more animated. "Is he trying to kill us all? We'll be underground, Varric. Does he want us to suffocate with the smoke?"

"Any better ideas, Hawke?" asked Varric, quirking an eyebrow.

"Well, yes! There are two mages going on the expedition; he does know that, doesn't he? Both Anders and I can summon flame, and I can create grease, which will burn with almost no smoke. We don't need wood, Varric; we need lyrium, and as much of it as we can get our hands on."

"Bartrand reckons the Deep Roads'll be lined with lyrium."

Hawke shook his head. "Not in a form mages can use. The lyrium smugglers can risk brain damage and insanity if they like; I won't touch it in its raw state. Anders and I were planning to get several batches made, before I got us all stuck up the mountain, that is. Oh…we'll also need salt. Lots of it."

"Salt? What for, Hawke? Is the food down in the Deep Roads a little on the bland side?"

Hawke shook his head. "No, we need salt to make oxygen." Smiling at Varric's puzzled expression, he leaned forward a little. "Which one of your paragons invented breathable air, then?"

"Uh…the name escapes me, Hawke. I guess I didn't pay too much attention at Paragon School."

"It was Paragon Garias," declared Hawke, and Varric's eyebrows shot up. "My father taught us about all the different cultures of Thedas. I paid particular attention to the science-y stuff, so I remembered the name. Garias eradicated black lung way back in 71: Towers with his oxygen generators. Due to that, he enjoyed wealth, privilege and as many women as his tongue could cope with." He beckoned the dwarf a little nearer. "Not to disrespect the man, but a child could have come up with it; it's a very simple chemical reaction. Even a mage could have thought it up," he added with a grin, his spirits lifting in Varric's company.

"You see, Hawke? This is why I came to you for the expedition! I knew there was something about you the first time I set eyes on you!" said Varric brightly and, it had to be said, proudly.

"Are you…coming onto me?" Hawke teased. "Bethany's sitting just over there, you know."

"You're welcome to him, Brother," she joked from the settee.

"Smartass," muttered Varric. "Well, I'll leave all the clever chemical stuff to you and Blondie, while I keep an eye on Bartrand." He produced a piece of paper and unfolded it, passing it over to Hawke. "I made a list of things he wants to take along. I said no to most of 'em, but he said if you agree, then I'm outvoted and I can kiss his ass. The guy's optimistic, I'll give him that."

Hawke pored over the list, shaking his head, his nose wrinkling. "He's having a laugh!" "Oh, please," and "No bloody way are we taking that!" were some of his more polite responses.

"Fletcher, eat," Leandra reminded him sternly as she set a cup of tea down in front of Varric.

"Yes, Mother," groaned Hawke, forcing another spoonful of the now-cold mash into his mouth.

"There's something else," Varric said with a mild grimace as he took the list of rejected items back. Hawke raised his eyebrows and waited. "Well, the Rivaini has been pestering me-"

"Who?"

"You know…Blondie's 'friend'? Isabela?"

"Oh, her? What's she been pestering you about?"

"She wants in on the expedition. I know, I know," He held his hands up to stop Hawke's protest. "I warned her that there are dangers down there for women, even though I don't know what those dangers are. She said that she laughs in the face of danger."

Hawke folded his arms on the table in front of him and rested his chin on them. "If she keeps on at you, send her to Anders. He'll tell her a few stories that'll make her vomit in the face of danger."

"Seriously, Hawke? You don't think she'll um…get round him?"

Hawke shook his head. "Anders is vehemently opposed to having any woman along on the expedition."

"Mash, Fletcher!" Bethany nagged from the settee with a cheeky grin.

"Not you as well!"

Varric watched as Hawke reluctantly nibbled at a spoonful of cold spuds. Varric was used to seeing his young friend with flushed, healthy skin, cheeks full with gravy dribbling down his chin as he ate. The man who sat before him now, though, was as pale and flaccid as the slop he pushed around his bowl. Varric was a consummate people-watcher and knew from Hawke's breathing pattern of long, deep inhalations, his body language and the inflections in his voice, that, despite his cheery façade, the young man had been on the verge of tears once or twice during their conversation, but had pulled himself back at the last minute.

"I walked into Hightown with the elf," he mentioned casually, guessing that, as Hawke would not lose control in front of his mother, now was as good a time as any to broach the subject.

There it was: the dull sheen of sadness in Hawke's eyes, his anxiety given life, before it was quickly blinked away. "Yes, Beth said he had to report back; declare himself ready for duty and all that. He's, erm…going to pop by later on."

"That's great, Hawke. I put in a good word for you, y'know, but, damn his pert little elven ass, he keeps his cards bloody close to his chest."

Hawke flashed a toothy smile, and his shoulders shook, but Varric saw the sadness return to Hawke's eyes immediately. "Pert little elven ass?" Hawke repeated, his eyes glazing over as he pushed the sadness down and forced his grin even wider. "I suppose it is."

"I have high hopes that you'll get to see that ass one day, Hawke," Varric muttered so that Leandra wouldn't hear, and Hawke sniggered.

"That's something to aim towards, at least." This time, his smile was genuine, but it quickly faltered. "More likely he'll tell me to kiss it."

"Well, when you're better, get yourself up to Hightown. You can kiss the elf's ass the same time Bartrand kisses mine," quipped Varric, waving the list at Hawke. "That'll give the nobles something to talk about."

Hawke sat up straight and smiled wanly. "It's a date." Probably the only bloody date I'm likely to get now.

Varric finished his tea and stood up, hefting Bianca over his shoulder. "Guess I'd better see what else that stone-humping asshat is up to."

"You're going back to Hightown?" asked Hawke, glancing at Varric's legs. "How are those little stumps of yours?"

"Getting stumpier by the day," replied Varric with an easy smile. "You'd think one of those damned paragons would've invented something useful, like shoes with wheels, but oh, no, they were all about running water and breathable air. What use is that to me?"

"Maybe you should invent shoes with wheels?" suggested Hawke. "Paragon Tethras…it has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

"You think so?" Varric pulled a face and looked at his legs. "Nah, I think I'll stick with my stumps. I couldn't abide all those adoring lackeys. I enjoy the quiet life."

"I'll walk out with you, Varric," Bethany said, also heading for the door. "I'm going to call on Merrill, keep her company for a while."

"Say hello from me," Hawke called over, waving to them both. As they left, he slumped in his chair and pushed his bowl aside.

"How long do you think it will be before you set off for the Deep Roads?" Bethany asked Varric as they descended the steps.

"Shouldn't be more than a couple of days, now," answered Varric, "but we're not going anywhere until Hawke's a hundred percent. Is he…gonna be okay if things don't work out with the elf?"

Bethany shrugged. "He'll be fine for the expedition, if that's what you mean. He's been waiting for it for such a long time, but I'm just worried about after the expedition. If he has nothing to work towards, well…I'm scared he'll start drinking again." She shook her head.

"In that case, we'd better make sure things do work out with the elf," said Varric thoughtfully. "I'll keep on at 'em in the Deep Roads, and you do what you can for the next few days. I don't wanna see him the way he was when I first met you both. He's too good for that."

"Neither do I." Bethany hung her head and Varric squeezed her arm.

"Will you be okay?" he asked her, and she nodded, forcing a smile. "I just need to keep that brother of mine in line. You go see Daisy, take her to the 'Man, have lunch on my tab. How about we go to the house, later?" he suggested, referring to Petrice's former safehouse. "I'll have some nice food brought over and we'll put our feet – or stumps, in my case – up. How's that sound?"

"Oh, I'd like that," Bethany smiled and leaned down, kissing the dwarf on the cheek.

"I'll call for you when I'm done in Hightown," he told her with a wink, and walked off, his stomach sinking. Although he would never let on, he was worried about his young friends. Blondie had been talking to himself again, Hawke was almost the lowest he'd ever seen him and Sunshine was doing her best to be strong when she felt anything but. He guessed that Sunshine must also be concerned about him and her brother venturing into the Deep Roads.

He hadn't formed quite as strong a bond with the elf as the others, but he hadn't known him as long, nor was the elf as approachable or as open as the others, but still, Varric liked him, and could see that he was good for Hawke. He decided there and then that if Sunshine had no luck, then he would make it his business to badger Hawke and the elf mercilessly once they were in the Deep Roads until they started talking just to shut him up.

And, with a little luck, maybe they'd figure things out between themselves?

~o~O~o~

As promised, Anders called on Hawke once he'd seen to things at the clinic. To his surprise and delight, Mallory, the refugee who'd helped out when the Fereldan ship had docked in Kirkwall, had been managing things in his stead; thankfully, there had been no emergencies, and, having some knowledge of herbalism thanks to her experience as a cook, she'd dispensed a few of Anders's decoctions to those who'd needed them. Much to Anders's amusement, she'd also sent a few timewasters to the Wise Woman and her leeches.

Anders brought Mallory with him, and they informed Hawke that, as she'd had no luck finding work on the surface so far, she'd volunteered to help Anders out at the clinic for the time being. Anders seemed very enthusiastic about this, and also explained that Mallory had approached a few refugees who had medical knowledge of some kind, and had asked them if they'd also volunteer while Anders was in the Deep Roads.

"I don't know how I ever managed without her!" Anders gushed, his cheeks pink, and Hawke was amazed at the change in the man.

"Well, you certainly get things done," Hawke said to the petite but spirited woman. "Anders has been trying for ages to get more help at the clinic, but he obviously doesn't have your charm."

Mallory shook her head and smiled. "Back home, I had to deal with tradesmen, nobles and slack-jawed kitchen staff. A few refugees are a doddle in comparison."

Their pleasant chat was interrupted by heavy rapping upon the front door. Gamlen groaned, put his book down and walked over to the door.

"Yes, Guardsman?" Gamlen asked as he opened the door.

"Pardon the intrusion, messere, but is Hawke at home?"

"There are several Hawkes here," said Gamlen unhelpfully. "Which one do you want?"

"Come in, Donnic," Hawke called over with an irritated look at his uncle, who tutted and walked back over to his chair and book.

Donnic entered and bowed to Leandra, once again apologising for the intrusion. She bade him to sit at the table and went into the kitchen to make some tea.

"How are you now, Hawke?" asked the guard, and Hawke answered, but could see that Donnic was agitated about something, and he cut to the chase.

"What brings you here, Donnic? Not that I'm not pleased to see you, of course."

Donnic sighed, relieved that Hawke hadn't engaged in smalltalk, and he glanced around the room. "I don't suppose Fenris is here, is he? Or has he been here, at all?"

"Not since this morning, no," replied Hawke with a frown. "I thought he was at the barracks?"

"He was." Donnic again glanced around and cleared his throat. "May we speak in private, Hawke?"

Hawke froze for a second before he stood up and led Donnic over to his and Gamlen's room. Closing the door behind them, he turned toward the grim-faced guard. "What's this about, Donnic?"

Donnic paused momentarily, unsure of what to say. "Does…does Fenris have…nightmares, Hawke?"

Hawke's face dropped like a stone. "Tell me."

"Well, I and the other fellas went to bed after our shift, and Fenris came in a while later, having reported back to Aveline; she told him to resume his nightshift as usual. We had a chat for a bit; I asked him how you were. He was very quiet…we all went back to bed…sorry," he said with a groan, "I'll get to the point. Sometime later, Fenris…he started…yelling in his sleep, almost screaming. Filbert and I tried to wake him, and he-he just grabbed us both by the throats and started to glow…"

"What happened?" Hawke demanded, eyes wide in panic.

"He realised it was us…he let us go, and he stopped glowing. He mumbled an apology, threw some clothes on and scarpered."

"He left the barracks?"

Donnic nodded and released a heavy sigh. "He scared the shit out of us. I knew deep down he wouldn't hurt us, but Davy and Filbert took some convincing. I talked them round, though, and explained a little bit of Fenris's past, but not too much. They like him; they're out looking for him, as well. We need to find him before Aveline discovers we're gone. She'll want an explanation, and she can smell a lie a mile off. If she suspects that Fenris is…troubled in any way, that'll be it; he'll be out."

"The chantry," Hawke said immediately, but Donnic shook his head.

"That was the first place I thought of. Sebastian hasn't seen him since we were up on the mountain. He's going to keep an eye out, though, and will get word to us if he shows up. I even thought of going to the mansion, but that's the last place he'd go, isn't it? Besides, Varric said he had the place rigged."

Hawke rubbed his forehead, his heart thumping. "He wouldn't go to the Hanged Man, or anywhere with lots of people…I think he'd want to be on his own. Where, though?"

"He might still come here," Donnic ventured.

"I doubt it," mumbled Hawke, suddenly feeling weak and hot. "There's the safehouse…no, he doesn't have a key. You say you didn't check the mansion?"

"I didn't see the point," shrugged Donnic.

Hawke went over to a small wardrobe and pulled out a black robe, which he slipped over his shirt and leggings. He then retrieved his boots from a corner and pulled them on. "Let's go," he said as he opened the bedroom door and entered the main room. "Mother, I'm going out-"

"You can't," Anders insisted. "You're not well enough! You're supposed to be resting."

"Fenris has gone missing," Hawke began.

Anders shot to his feet. "No! It's because of him and his vendetta against mages that you were injured in the first place!" he spluttered. "He can't keep doing things like this to you!"

A hush fell over the room, and a few pairs of eyes darted from side to side; all except those of Anders, Hawke and Donnic; the guard shot Anders a decidedly black look.

"It's because of me that he's in such a state," Hawke answered, and could feel irritation taking root inside him, but he supressed it, mindful that Anders had recently saved his life.

"I can take care of the clinic, if you like," offered Mallory, and Hawke, by now feeling none too charitable, narrowed his eyes at her, wondering how anyone could be so irrepressibly helpful all the time.

"Fletcher, please do what Anders says," Leandra implored. "You're not well. I'm certain the guards will find him."

"I'm sorry, Mother; I won't be able to rest until I know he's all right." He turned to Anders, his expression stern. "Are you coming?"

Anders, you must be a friend to both of them. Be the better man.

"All right," groaned Anders, "If only to keep an eye on you."

"I'll be back soon, Mother," said Hawke as he opened the front door.

"I'll tell the other guards to look out for him," Donnic informed Hawke. "Meet you in Hightown?"

Hawke nodded and walked off with Anders and Mallory. Donnic stared after them for a moment, wishing he could keep his own eye on Anders. With a huff, he turned and headed in the opposite direction.