Once Mallory had been dropped off at the clinic, Hawke and Anders began searching the side alleys and hidden nooks of Lowtown. Anders couldn't have cared less whether or not Fenris was found, but he wanted Hawke somewhere warm, resting, so he joined in with as much enthusiasm as he could feign, which wasn't much.

Deep down, Hawke knew they were wasting their time in Lowtown. For some reason, he was certain that Fenris would be found at the mansion. The logical part of his brain told him that was the last place the elf would take refuge, but Hawke had never been a very logical person, and, in the intuitive part of his brain, upon which Hawke relied heavily, the mansion shone and pulsated like a beacon, calling him ever closer.

After a fruitless search of the markets and alleyways, the two mages headed for the steps. Much to Anders's surprise, Hawke took them two at a time and maintained his pace as he ascended. Once they reached the top, Hawke was gasping for breath, but didn't slow down as he charged toward the chantry, where Sebastian and Donnic were talking outside the main doors.

"Any-any luck?" panted Hawke, bending and bracing his hands on his thighs.

"Nothing," Donnic grumbled.

Sebastian shook Hawke's hand and then reached over for Anders's, who fancied he saw a moment's hesitation on the chantry brother's part.

"There's still Hightown Estates to search," suggested Sebastian.

"I'll take Danarius's manor," said Hawke, already on his way over.

"And if he's not there, you're going home," urged Anders, who followed him along with Sebastian and Donnic. "You need to rest!"

"Yes, all right," mumbled Hawke absently. He had no intention of going home until Fenris had been found, though, and Anders knew it.

"Right, let's split up," Donnic instructed once they'd reached the Estates. "Seb, you check along the tradesman's entrances; Anders-"

"Actually, it'd be better if I went with Hawke," he interrupted, "as I doubt Fenris will come out if he hears my voice."

Donnic looked at Anders for a moment before nodding briskly. "Fine. I'm going to knock on someone's door and check the rear grounds of the estates. I'm the only one among us legally authorised to do that. We'll meet back here when we've finished."

The four men went their separate ways, with Hawke and Anders entering the grounds of Danarius's mansion together. Upon entering the courtyard, Hawke stopped and looked around; the grounds appeared to be empty. He walked over to a window and peered through while Anders went to the front door and knocked upon it.

"I doubt he'll just come to the door," Hawke called over, squinting to see past the half-closed drapes.

"What else do you suggest, then?"

"He can't be in there," Hawke replied heavily. "Come and have a look."

Anders walked over to Hawke and stood beside him, looking through the window. Inside, numerous tripwires criss-crossed the main vestibule, and a fine layer of flour coated the floor; it would have been impossible for anyone to have entered without leaving footprints or setting off one of the traps. Hawke's eyes wandered over to the spot where the settee once was, and his shoulders sagged.

"That's it, then," said Anders. "Now will you go home?"

"What do you think?" answered Hawke. "Could you just go home if someone you care about had disappeared?"

"He hasn't disappeared!" Anders exclaimed in exasperation. "He's gone off in another strop! I don't understand what all this fuss is about! Why do you keep indulging him like this?"

"Careful, Anders. You don't know what you're talking about." Hawke's warning was clear in his low and deadly-calm voice.

"Then tell me! Make me understand why he keeps running off like this!"

"Keeps? This is the second time, Anders! That's hardly constant, is it?"

"Bloody hell," hissed Anders. "Why must you insist on making a fool of yourself over this man?"

"Because I love him, that's why!" Hawke stepped closer to Anders, bristling. "Have you never loved anyone, Anders? Do you not understand what it means to lie awake at night worrying about them? For one of their smiles to instantly make everything right? For their disappointment to cause the bottom to fall out of your world?"

"No! I've never loved anyone," snapped Anders, "and I doubt anyone has ever loved me! Is that the answer you wanted? Because it's the truth!"

Hawke's mouth fell open, and the two men stared at each other for a long moment before Anders broke eye contact and turned away.

"This is a waste of bloody time. I'll be outside the chantry when you're ready to go back."

"Anders, wait a minute…"

"What for? You're not going to listen to me, are you? You're just going to keep on looking until you drop. There are people who care about you as well, you know!"

"I know you're only looking out for me, Anders, and I'm grateful! But I can't just leave him, can I?"

Anders didn't reply as he walked away, leaving Hawke alone in the courtyard, slowly retracting his outstretched hand. Feeling the last of his strength and spirit ebb away, he trudged over to the wall and sat on the ground beneath a window, where he looked up at the sky, his vision blurred.

"Where are you?" he asked dismally, his voice little more than a croak. "I'm so sorry I hurt you! I wish I could just go back…Maker, I miss you…" He pressed the heels of his hands hard against his eyes in a vain attempt to stem his tears; exhaustion, guilt and fear overwhelming him.

"Hawke."

The name was a suggestion carried on the gentle rustle of leaves, and Hawke held his breath, his head jolting up, his eyes roaming the thick wall of ivy that blanketed the southern aspect of the mansion.

He wiped his eyes and nose and blinked several times, his lungs protesting at the air held within, denied its release until Hawke was sure.

"Fen?"

Was he imagining things?

Another rustle came from the far-right edge of the ivy, and a vague outline, darker than the shadows which half-concealed it, moved slightly and then stopped.

Hawke released his breath and pushed himself to his feet. "Fenris? Is that you?"

The outline grew darker and resolved into a solid image as the elf slunk out of the shadows, and the first thing Hawke saw were his eyes, as red-rimmed and wide as his own.

Fenris remained where he was as Hawke slowly walked over, stopping a few feet away. "I knew you'd be here," Hawke whispered. "I knew it. I know you."

"You should not be here," Fenris said roughly, hiding his trembling hands behind his back. "You are ill. You must rest. Why have you…"

"Everyone's looking for you. They're worried about you, Fen."

Fenris scowled, shook his head and disappeared behind the ivy. Hawke followed, finding the elf sitting on a stone bench in a small alcove concealed by the vines. Hawke remained standing, unsure how close to Fenris was too close.

"I almost…"

"You had a bad dream. Donnic understands. We need to get you back to the barracks before-"

"It wasn't a dream."

Hawke hesitated, unsure of the elf's meaning. "You were asleep. You had a nightmare," he said gently.

"No. Something…came back to me."

"You mean…?" Hawke slowly moved to the opposite end of the bench and sat down. "A memory?"

Fenris's eyes glazed over as they stared ahead, and he nodded almost imperceptibly.

"What-what happened?"

"I believe it was the first time Danarius forced himself upon me." The elf's matter-of-fact tone sent a chill down Hawke's spine. Fenris had only hinted at his master's depravity before, and had never actually come out and said it.

Hawke coughed to break a silence so weighty it was virtually a third presence among them.

"When I told you about the ritual that provided me with the markings, there were…gaps in the story, in my memory. Do you remember?"

Hawke nodded gravely and braced himself.

"…I remember part of it, now," the elf related, his voice as flat and lifeless as the air around them had become. "I had just regained consciousness. Danarius was standing over me. All of his-his assistants had been sent away. I was naked, except for a small cloth that covered my private parts. He… was looking at me in a very peculiar way."

Fenris closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed hard before turning slightly towards Hawke and opening his eyes again.

"I could not move; I was too weak and in horrendous pain. I begged him to administer a pain-relieving agent, but he ignored me. He began to… touch me." He shuddered at the memory, and Hawke inched a little closer, desperate to comfort him, but he refrained.

"He said I was a work of art, a masterpiece, that I was sublime," the elf spat hatefully. "He removed his robe…I remember recoiling from him, and he seemed…hurt, and intimated that I had never rejected him before. His touch became firmer, more…exigent. His breathing quickened. I told him that he was hurting me, but he would not stop…he used magic on me, paralysed me. The pain…I-I could do nothing. He told me I was his, to do with whatever he wished-"

"Fenris, please," Hawke beseeched in a fractured whisper. "Don't say any more."

Fenris turned his head toward Hawke and clasped his hands together. "You understand…you are the only one who understands because-because you have also been…you were…"

Hawke shook his head emphatically. "What happened to me is not the same. Not the same thing at all. I was willing. I wanted it to happen, until I knew…you were forced. It's not the same."

"When you told me the truth about yourself, I wanted to get as far away from you as possible," Fenris admitted, his words tumbling out in rapid succession, "but I had given my word to stay at your side. At the time, that was all that kept me from leaving, and yet, when I awoke from-I wanted to be with you. You were the only person I wanted to see, hear. The only one who knows…who understands." He placed his head in his hands, shaking it. "I feel…lost. I'm so confused. I don't know what to do. I want to run away from you and toward you at the same time."

Fenris's words came as no surprise to Hawke, but the shattering effect they had on him was no less intense for it. "I'm so sorry I made you feel like that."

"You didn't. This is something I have to figure out for myself." He removed his hands from his face and once again looked at Hawke. "It's too late. I…can't walk away from you, now. It's too late for that. But I…I don't know if I can trust you. You have kept so much from me. I'm sorry. I don't know what to do," he repeated.

Hope, mingled with sorrow, rose within Hawke and he longed to edge closer to Fenris, to reach out and touch his hand, his hair, but he knew he couldn't. He had to earn Fenris's trust all over again and wouldn't do that by forcing his proximity upon him.

"Don't be sorry. You've done nothing wrong." Hawke stood up and looked down at Fenris, his posture mirroring the elf's: beaten, exhausted, wounded. "Stay here. I'm going to tell them I've found you."

"I won't go back to the barracks," Fenris insisted, his hand cutting through the air. "Let Aveline dismiss me if she wishes. I care not for the consequences. I will not go back there today."

"You don't have to. Come and stay with me…us, my family. Mother, Beth and my uncle will be there; you won't need to be on your own with me, if that's what you want." The blurted invitation surprised Hawke as much as it did Fenris, who glanced at him and frowned, before looking away without answering.

Hawke sat on the bench again, this time a little closer to Fenris. "You don't trust me, and I don't blame you for that. I'm going to do everything I can to make things right. Even if you never trust me again, I'll not have you thinking that everyone is untrustworthy. I won't be responsible for doing that to you."

Fenris continued to stare ahead at some indeterminate point within the tangle of ivy.

"Come home with me," Hawke urged softly. "I'll tell you everything, Fenris: everything about my father, about the deal I made, and about…Dalton." Hawke's voice faltered, and Fenris once again looked at him.

"You don't have to…"

"I want to. You're going to know everything about me, if you're willing to listen. I'm going to tell you things my own sister and mother don't know, and I hope that will prove to you how much I trust you."

"I know you trust me, Hawke."

"I'll never keep anything from you again, Fenris; you're going to hear it all, good and bad," Hawke implored, his voice unsteady with anxiety. "I'm not going to give you up. You mean too much to me. If it takes the rest of my life, I'll earn your trust again." The urgency of his appeal resonated with Fenris and their eyes met, fear and hurt reflected in them. "Please let me try. Take a leap of faith, Fenris."

Fenris sighed softly and glanced down at his slippers, made for him by Leandra. Hawke came from a good, decent family. Hawke was a good, decent man, but one with a demon at his back. Hawke was not Danarius, he knew that with certainty, but could Fenris make such a leap? Could he accept, trust or even love a blood mage?

Was that question moot, though? Did he love Hawke already?

He remembered Bethany's declaration that her brother loved him, followed by Hawke's words to Anders, spoken only minutes earlier.

He remembered Hawke's reaction when Fenris had told him of the Fog Warriors, of when Hawke had watched him kill Hadriana, and of all the times Fenris had verbally lashed out at him. Hawke had seen the worst of him and accepted, trusted and loved him despite that.

"Fenris?" Hawke invited softly, interrupting his thoughts. "Come home with me?"

~o~O~o~

"You found him!" Donnic rushed forward as Hawke and Fenris entered the main square at the front of Hightown Estates, and Sebastian followed behind him. The guardsman halted, however, when he saw how dejected the elf appeared.

"Fenners?"

Fenris looked up, unable to meet Donnic's eyes, and studied his friend's throat, remembering his own hand closing around it and squeezing.

"I'm fine!" Donnic asserted, placing his hand over his neck, but not before Fenris had seen the bruises that had already begun to form there. "We're both fine. Come on, mate, let's get you back to the barracks; we can talk there."

Fenris lowered his head and shook it, clasping his hands together tightly. "I can't. I won't-I won't risk hurting anyone-"

"You didn't! It's fine, Fenners. We'll just know not to wake you if it happens again. Nobody knows about it but us, and that's how it'll stay. We're your friends."

"I'm…sorry, Donnic," Fenris whispered, crippled by his mortification.

"Fenris needs to prepare for the expedition, anyway," Hawke interjected. "I should have told Aveline that it's not far off, now. She can blame me if she likes."

Donnic, realising that Hawke was trying to save face for Fenris, nodded. "Well, she knew it was coming up. You were only in training, anyway, Fen, and that can be resumed when you return from the expedition. It will be resumed."

All eyes turned to Fenris, but he was withdrawn, his own eyes boring into the ground.

"Are you…is he going with you, Hawke?" asked Donnic.

"I've offered, yes," answered Hawke with a glance at Sebastian. "Although…maybe you'd feel more comfortable at the chantry? It's up to you," he said to the mute elf. "We can…talk another time, if you like. Whenever you're ready."

"You'd be more than welcome, Fenris," Sebastian answered benignly, "but the chantry is awfully draughty of a night. I'd recommend you spend the night with Hawke's family. His abode is small, but it's warm and welcoming, as are the Hawkes. You would be better off there, I think," he added with a glance at Hawke, who nodded back gratefully.

"Yes," said Fenris blankly, looking up at Donnic with dull eyes. "I have put you all to so much trouble. Forgive me, my friends." He shook his head and once again fell silent.

"Get him home, Hawke," Donnic urged. "I'll sort things out with Aveline."

"I'll accompany you both," offered Sebastian. "I could do with a walk."

"Fenris?" asked Hawke. The elf nodded and Hawke exhaled in relief. "Where's Anders?" he asked, glancing around.

Donnic and Sebastian exchanged a quick look, which didn't go unnoticed by Hawke. "He…went back to the clinic, I think," answered Donnic.

"What, that's all he said?" Hawke demanded.

Sebastian cleared his throat and once again glanced at Donnic. "He didn't say anything, Hawke."

"What…?" Hawke paused and breathed deeply through his nose, trying without success to push his anger down. "What's he trying to do?" he muttered under his breath. "I haven't got the energy to chase after him as well! What's he playing at?" Was that what he wanted Hawke to do? Did he resent the attention Fenris was getting?

"Fenris, are you ready?" he asked, waving his hand toward the steps leading down to the grounds of the chantry. Fenris nodded and walked ahead, with his three friends following.

"I'll call off the search and get back to the barracks," Donnic announced once they reached the foot of the steps.

"Let me help," Fenris uttered mechanically.

"Yes, we'll all help," Hawke chipped in.

Donnic shook his head. "Just get home, you two. Fen, I'll call on you tomorrow morning after my shift, if that's all right? Don't worry. Leave everything to me." He placed his hands on Fenris's shoulders and looked for a moment like he was going to hug him, but he stepped back. "I'll check on Anders tonight, Hawke," he promised.

"Thanks, Donnic." Hawke suspected there was more than concern for Anders's wellbeing in Donnic's statement, but didn't question him. Fenris was his priority and whatever was going through Anders's head this time would have to wait.

After a few handshakes, Donnic departed. As usual, Fenris walked slightly ahead but his bowed head and the slump of his shoulders spoke of how inattentive he was. In lieu of his usual protection, Hawke and Sebastian held their staff and bow ready. The merchants had started to pack away their goods and both men knew that this was the time of day when muggings and pickpocketing were at their peak. Hawke almost hoped that someone would have a go; he was in the mood to beat someone up.

Nobody did have a go, however, and their journey to Lowtown passed quietly. Conversation was minimal between Hawke and Sebastian, and non-existent from Fenris; his companions didn't trouble him with the inanities they exchanged.

Eventually, they reached the slums and Hawke let them into Gamlen's home. Bethany had returned from Merrill's and settled Fenris down at the dining table while Sebastian and Hawke stepped back outside.

Sebastian didn't speak at first; the suspicious look he gave Hawke spoke for him.

"He's, um…he's had a shock. Bad news," Hawke mumbled in explanation of Fenris's behaviour and demeanour.

"Donnic told me he'd had a…nightmare?" Sebastian queried, and there was a further, unspoken question there, as well as a restrained coolness to his voice.

"Yes…but I'm wondering if I…" Hawke paused, his mind still cogitating whether his confession had distressed Fenris so much as to bring on a flashback.

"Did you tell him?" asked Sebastian. "Is that what's behind it?"

Hawke frowned, confused, but an alarm clamoured in his mind. "Tell him? Tell him what?"

"That you're a blood mage," was Sebastian's blunt reply.

Hawke's breath caught, and his eyes widened, his mouth slowly opening.

"Yes, I know," Sebastian said stiffly. "Have you told him yet? I don't need to remind you that Danarius was also a blood mage. Fenris has a right to know."

"He knows," murmured Hawke, "and yes, I think that's what's behind it."

Sebastian folded his arms and let out a long sigh. "Well, I'm pleased to hear that you've been honest with him. He deserves that, as much as the truth has devastated him."

"It has," Hawke whispered, his eyes cast down, his posture slumping. "I'm…trying to put things right. I'm not a practising blood mage, although I don't suppose that matters to most people."

"I can see that. And in case you're wondering, I won't report you to the Templars. I wouldn't do that to your mother or sister…or to Fenris."

"I wasn't-"

"…Not unless you give me reason to, Hawke. So long as you continue not to practise it."

"I won't." Hawke exhaled, suddenly feeling very tired. "How did you know?"

"Your friend, Merrill. Something she said while we were engaging Hadriana."

Hawke nodded slowly. "She was worried that someone would guess. It's not her fault, though. Are you…going to report her?"

"Not for the time being. I'll be keeping an eye on her, though, as well. I won't abide the practise of blood magic; it was what killed my family. From what I have seen of you so far, Hawke, you appear to be a decent man, but I cannot ignore the fact you are bound to a demon, whatever the circumstances."

"I understand that, Sebastian. Just…we're not all like the Harrimans."

"Possibly, but the potential for corruption is always there," answered Sebastian. "You have assured me that you are a non-practising blood mage, and I must take you at your word. Do not break it, Hawke, for Fenris's sake, and for your own. Think of me what you will; I must do what I feel is right."

"My opinion of you hasn't changed, Sebastian," Hawke assured him. "You're being a good friend to Fenris, and I'm grateful to you for that. If he decides he wants nothing more to do with me, which is a distinct possibility, he'll need a friend like you."

Sebastian eyed Hawke warily for a moment before nodding and releasing a sigh. "You must understand, Hawke, that I have seen the very worst of blood magic…not that any good could ever come of it. Perhaps…perhaps you see that, also; I don't know. I am Fenris's friend, though, and I will do what I must to protect him."

"I know that, and so would I," replied Hawke, looking towards the door. "I…I wouldn't have hurt him for anything, but that's exactly what I've done. I've messed up, Sebastian, but I'm going to do whatever it takes to make it up to him…if he'll let me."

"I see your contrition, Hawke, which is why I discouraged Fenris from seeking refuge at the chantry. I do believe that you have his best interests at heart, and that you care for him." Sebastian's intense blue eyes fixed Hawke in place as he paused. "Don't prove me wrong."

Hawke nodded once, and Sebastian bowed slightly, but did not offer Hawke his hand. "Good afternoon to you, Hawke. Maker watch over you."

"Good afternoon, Sebastian, and thank you." Hawke watched the archer walk down the steps and out of the slums. "Maker watch over you, too."

He entered the house to find Bethany, Leandra and a disgruntled Gamlen hovering near to the door. Fenris sat at the dining table, nursing a cup of tea.

"Uncle Gamlen's taking us out, isn't that right, Uncle?" Bethany sang, receiving a grunt in reply. In spite of how anxious Hawke felt, he had to smile at Bethany's none-too-subtle scheming.

"We'll be back later, darling," Leandra said, concern wrinkling her brow. "Please get some rest."

"I will," he replied, and Leandra pulled him close, the suddenness and desperation in her embrace causing tears to spring to his eyes again. "M-Mother," he whispered, pulling away, "I'm fine, really…I just need a good night's sleep."

An impatient sigh was heard from the door. "Are we going, or not?" asked Gamlen.

Leandra nodded and released Hawke. "Make yourself at home, Fenris," she called over, and the elf doffed a respectful nod.

They left the house and made their way down the steps, Gamlen walking a short distance ahead, and mother and daughter arm-in-arm. Once they'd exited the slums, Leandra halted.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on, Bethany?" she asked her daughter.

"Going…on? What do you mean, Mother?"

"What has happened to Fletcher? Fenris?"

"They're just having a few issues which they need to talk about-"

"Daughter, it's clear to me that there's a lot more than a few issues here," Leandra interrupted. "Do you think I haven't noticed that Fletcher has lost weight? How he grimaces and clutches his stomach sometimes when he thinks I'm not looking? This is how he gets when he's worried about something, but when I ask him he pats my hand and tells me not to worry. I want to know what's going on."

Bethany sighed and placed her hands on Leandra's arms. "Fletcher and Fenris are…involved."

"I know that, Bethany."

"Well, sometimes couples go through a rough patch…"

"Bethany! In case you've forgotten, I have been married! Do you think I don't realise they're having difficulties? I wish you and Fletcher would stop fobbing me off! I'm not a piece of china, in case you hadn't noticed! I won't break if you confide in me!"

Bethany stared at her mother, open-mouthed, suddenly comprehending that, in their efforts to protect her, she and Fletcher had only succeeded in causing her to worry even more.

"Or perhaps you think I'm only here to dispense tea and cake?"

"Oh, Mother, no!" Bethany's lip wobbled and she wrapped her arms around Leandra's waist.

Leandra cupped Bethany's face and sighed. "Oh, Bethany…I'm sorry. I-I've just…you and Fletcher never come to me like you used to. I worry so much about you both." Leandra tutted and shook her head as tears threatened to spill from her eyes.

"Oh, Maker," grumbled Gamlen, turning away from the embarrassing spectacle. "I'm going to carry on," he announced. "Catch me up whenever…ugh…" He walked off, leaving Bethany and Leandra to talk about women's things.

"You're right, Mother," Bethany said, barely noticing Gamlen's departure. "Maker knows I've been worried about him going on the expedition, and you don't know anything about it, do you? You must have been imagining all kinds of things."

"I have," Leandra replied. "There could be all manner of monsters down there. And the darkspawn…I know you think I'm fussing, but I can't help it. I-I don't want to lose another son, dear."

"I know, Mother." Bethany took one of her mother's hands and led her down a side alley toward central Lowtown. "I know where we can go; Varric has a little place he's looking after. There are a few bottles of wine there. We'll snuggle up and have a girly chat, just like we used to."

"Oh, darling, that would be wonderful," smiled Leandra.

"I'll tell you everything that's been going on: the expedition, what happened up in the mountains. Fletcher did get hurt, but he'll be fine. I'll tell you all about it." Bethany knew that the only thing she couldn't share with her mother was that he was a blood mage.

It didn't take them long to reach the safehouse, and Bethany took out the chain around her neck that now held a key to the property as well as one to Varric's room at the Hanged Man. A small sealed note was nailed to the door and she pulled it off, squinting in the fading light to read it:

Varric Tethras! You cannot avoid me forever!

Will either you, Hawke, or preferably both of you, report to the barracks forthwith! And don't think you can run off on that expedition of yours, either!

You cannot just claim ownership of an abandoned property that is actually owned, I'll have you know, by the sodding CHANTRY!

Get your arses up here or so help me, I'll come and find you both.

GUARD-CAPTAIN (remember that?) Vallen.

"What's that, dear?" asked Leandra.

"Just a welcome note from one of Varric's friends," chirped Bethany, slipping the note into a pocket on her robe.

~o~O~o~

Hawke closed the door and turned around, just as Fenris rose from the table, although his eyes were fixed firmly upon it.

"Do you…would you feel more comfortable if one of them came back?" Hawke asked, thumbing toward the door.

Fenris looked up and shook his head, and then closed his eyes, his shoulders sagging.

"The door's unlocked," Hawke told him.

Fenris's eyes opened and he frowned. "I…why…?"

"I just want you to feel safe." Hawke slowly walked over to the table, his eyes on the kitchen door. "May I fetch you a drink, Fenris?" he offered.

"I already have one. Make yourself one, if you wish," answered the elf. "Not that you need my permission to make yourself a drink."

"I know that," Hawke replied with a gentle smile. "How are you feeling?"

"I…" Fenris shrugged his shoulders and his eyes slowly travelled up to meet Hawke's. The mage stood only a few feet away, the closest they'd been to each other all day, and for the first time he noticed how pale and drawn Hawke appeared. Fenris hung his head again, the realisation finally dawning on him that the last couple of days had been just as hard on Hawke as they had on him.

"I'm…sorry," he whispered, the memory of the tearful Hawke slumped against the mansion wall returning to him. "You have exhausted yourself looking for me. You-you should sit down. I will bring you a drink."

Fenris moved aside to allow Hawke access to the settee, and, when Hawke didn't move, he turned away and headed for the kitchen, only to feel a gentle touch to his arm.

Fenris stopped in his tracks, his heart racing. Hawke, the man – the blood mage - he wasn't even sure he could trust, was standing behind him, a dangerous position for anyone, and yet Hawke didn't move away. Warmth trickled into Fenris's veins as his markings bloomed their warning, surrounding him in a gentle blue corona, but still Hawke held his place.

"Hawke…you shouldn't-"

"I know you won't hurt me. I trust you, Fenris. Please don't run away from me."

Hawke's hand gently clasped Fenris's arm, turning him around, and the elf, weak with confusion, offered no resistance, although the glow of his markings did not wane.

Hawke raised his free hand, resting it against Fenris's other arm and took a small step closer. "Don't run away from me."

The urge to flee came strongly upon Fenris again, yet he also remembered the relief that had coursed through him when he'd spied Hawke entering the courtyard of the mansion. He'd thought that solace could be found in isolation, in making himself invisible, in removing himself so that nobody would have to look at him or suffer his company, but Hawke had risked his health to seek him out, and now offered Fenris solace of a different kind in his arms.

Making the decision for him, Hawke closed the gap as war broke out between Fenris's head and heart, and both thumped in tandem, sending him giddy; his markings responded to the perceived threat and flared violently even as his hands moved to rest against Hawke's chest, half pulling at his robe, half pushing him away.

"The door's unlocked," Hawke reminded him, and the glow of his markings lessened slightly. "You can leave at any time."

"…No."

Fenris's eyes closed and warmth enveloped him as Hawke's arms came around his shoulders, and he buried his face in the elf's hair. Fenris removed his hands from Hawke's chest and slid them around his back, the light of his markings waning as they held each other, Fenris finally finding his solace from the nightmares.

For now, Fenris's heart was winning the war.