A/N: I apologize for the length of this chapter. I like how long it is, but if you don't, then take it up with Paden and Anders, because they're the ones who wrote it. Anyway, this is one of my favorite chapters, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. Thank you everyone for your wonderful, wonderful reviews, I love reading them!

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Act One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Of Rain and Flowers

Paden laid awake for much of that night, scenes and conversations from earlier in the day chasing each other around her head unceasingly, like a hound never managing to catch up with the elusive fox.

The morning dawned wet and gray. A misty rain blew in from the sea, and Paden pulled a hood down low as her boots squished in the mud on her way to the Hanged Man. The weather was perfect to match her mood.

The tavern was nearly empty so early in the morning, with only a couple resident drunks swapping lies in the corner. Paden took her cloak off and laid it on the bar, then she plopped herself down on a stool and motioned for the barkeep.

"Hawke," Corff said in surprise as he came over, wiping his hands on a rag. "Don't usually see you in here so early."

Paden smiled grimly. "It's one of those days, Corff."

"What can I do for you?" he asked.

"Just give me something strong, I don't care what."

"Coffee then?"

Paden gave him a long-suffering look.

Corff sighed and rested his hands on the bar. "Hawke, are you sure? You're not a morning drinker."

Paden took several coppers out of her pocket and tossed them on the bar. "Do you want my coin or not?" she asked.

Corff sighed and took the coins, then he left to get her drink.

"No coffee!" she called after him. Then she rested her elbows on the bar and leaned heavily on them. She absently scratched at the worn wood with her fingernail, scraping off a thin layer of black grime that had accumulated over the years. Corff returned and set a mug of ale in front of her, but she didn't take her eyes off her fingers.

"Hawke, what a surprise to see you here this early," a familiar voice said from behind her.

"Hello, Varric," Paden mumbled. She glanced up at her mug and then wrapped her fingers around the handle, pulling it closer to her.

Varric pulled himself up onto the stool beside her, and Paden could feel his gaze on her.

"You all right, Hawke?" he finally asked.

Paden shrugged one shoulder. "I suppose not. Didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

"Do you…want to talk about it?" Varric asked hesitantly.

Paden glanced at him and then took a sip of her ale. It was bitter, and she grimaced as it went down, igniting a line of fire from her tongue to her empty stomach.

"Not really," she replied to the dwarf. How could she talk about everything she was feeling? How could she sort out her thoughts well enough to even get them past her lips?

"All right," Varric said, and they sat at the bar in silence for several minutes while Paden nursed her drink.

After a while Varric took out a deck of cards and began shuffling them to keep busy. Paden watched the dwarf's stubby fingers as they cut the deck, positioned each stack, bending them just so, and then letting them fan out smoothly between his fingers, as if he had done it a million times before—which he probably had. It was a wonderful distraction, since Paden's card shuffling skills left much to be desired. Varric made it look so easy.

"Hey, I got a possible job for you," he said. "I meant to tell you yesterday, but with everything else…well, I just forgot."

"What kind of job?" Paden asked.

Varric chuckled lightly. "Believe it or not, it's another missing person case."

Paden finally glanced at the dwarf, incredulous. "I'm not really in the mood for jokes, Varric."

"No joke," the dwarf assured. "Some woman missing her son."

Paden blew a forceful breath out between pursed lips, then she took a sip of her ale. "Another missing person," she mused softly. "Seems like the only kind of work we can find lately." She held out one hand, as if framing a sign on the far wall. "Hawke, Hawke & Tethras, Investigative Services."

Varric chuckled. "Sounds more interesting than Hawke's Secondhand Goods."

Paden wrapped her hands around her mug and stared down at her dark reflection in the ale. "I don't know," she said softly. "I rather like the idea of Hawke's Secondhand Goods."

"It would be terribly boring," Varric assured.

"I don't think so. In fact, it sounds ideal right now. Chasing after bandits, smuggling lyrium, rescuing kidnapped children…" she shook her head. "That's not for me. I'm not cut out to be an adventurer, Varric, and I'm definitely not a hero. I'm Paden. A simple name not meant to go down in history."

Varric didn't answer that right away as he ran a finger gently along the edge of the deck of cards. Paden stared into her mug, and the rain continued to fall outside.

"Heroes don't make themselves, Hawke," he finally said. "And in my experience the true heroes are the ones that never asked for the title. You do what you have to do to survive, and let history be your judge." He shrugged and shuffled the deck again.

Paden considered his words. As true as they might be, they didn't help her feel any better about her life in the moment. She drained her mug and then held it out toward the barkeeper, motioning for him to bring her another one.

"Hawke, do you really think that's a good idea?" Varric asked.

"It's a great idea," Paden answered, and motioned to Corff again when he didn't come over right away."Hey, Corff, can I get some service over here?" she called.

Corff sighed and came over, placing both hands on the bar and making no move to take her empty mug. "Hawke, you're not a drinker—especially not in the morning.

"I am too a drinker," Paden argued. "I drink all the time."

Both Corff and Varric laughed.

"What? What's so funny?" Paden demanded.

"Hawke, you are no drinker, trust me," Varric said. "I've never seen you have more than two ales at a time."

"So, I've had one," Paden said, holding up her empty mug, then she shoved it at Corff. "Now give me my second one."

Corff stared at her, but still made no move to take the mug.

Just then the front door opened and a man in a dark gray cloak hurried in, his hood pulled low, but Paden recognized Anders' black lace-up boots. He pulled his hood back and smiled when he saw her at the bar.

"There you are," he said. "I've been looking for you."

"Good, Blondie, maybe you can talk some sense into her," Varric said.

"What's going on?" Anders asked as he came to stand beside Paden.

"They won't let me have another drink," Paden complained.

"She's in the sort of mood where one drink can turn into five faster than you can say 'nug's uncle,'" Varric said.

"Andraste alive," Paden exclaimed. "Can't a girl brood in peace?"

Anders took the mug from her hand and set it on the bar as far away from her as his reach allowed. "Come on, why don't you come with me?" he said.

"Go with you where?" Paden asked, a scowl on her face.

"To the Wounded Coast. I'm running low on some supplies and need to restock."

"The Wounded Coast, are you crazy?" She gestured to the window high above them. "It's raining."

"I know, isn't it wonderful?" Anders said with a grin. "It doesn't rain often enough in Kirkwall."

"Go with him, Hawke," Varric urged. "Some fresh air will do you good."

"It's raining," Paden said again flatly.

"Will you melt if you get wet?" Anders asked. "Come on." He took Paden's cloak off the bar and draped it over her shoulders, reaching around her to tie the strings at the base of her neck.

Paden's heart fluttered at his almost-embrace. She turned her head slightly until her nose touched the sleeve of his coat. Herbs and tallow; a scent that was quickly becoming a favorite of hers, simply because it meant comfort, safety, happiness…Anders.

All too soon he pulled away, having completed his task of securing her cloak. "Ready?" he asked her.

"No, not really," Paden said. "Why do we have to go while it's raining?"

"Why should we have to wait until it stops?" Anders countered. "The rain is a marvelous thing, Hawke." He took her hand and pulled her off the barstool.

"It's also very wet," she grumbled.

"Have fun, you two," Varric called after them as they left the tavern.

The rain was falling a little heavier than when Paden had left her house earlier. She hunched her shoulders against the wind and tugged her hood down low. Anders, however, was walking straight and unhurried as if the sun were shining. He wore his hood low, but every now and then he turned his face to the sky, allowing the raindrops to sprinkle his skin. After she noticed him doing that for the fourth time, Paden questioned him.

"Why do you keep looking up at the sky like that?"

"The rain is one of my favorite things," he said. "It's exhilarating to feel it on my skin."

"I've never found much fascination in it, to be honest," Paden said. "It's more of a bother than anything."

"That's because you grew up with rain. And in Ferelden you saw a lot of it."

"But you're Fereldan," Paden said. "You didn't see rain all the time like I did?"

He shook his head. "I went many years in the Circle without ever feeling the rain on my skin. We weren't allowed to go outside, you see—at least never when it was raining."

Paden looked up at him in surprise. "Not allowed to go outside? Why not?"

"A greater chance for escape attempts?" Anders guessed with a shrug. "I guess a lot of that was my fault, though. The first time I escaped was when we were all out for a swim in the lake—they let us do that a few times each summer. I used the opportunity to swim away. They never let us go swimming anymore after that."

"I bet you became unpopular with the other apprentices," Paden remarked.

He gave her a wry smile. "A little bit, yes. Anyway, ever since the Tower I've sort of revered rain. It never bothers me anymore."

"Well…lucky you," Paden mumbled. They left Lowtown and took the road that followed the coast. The falling sheets of misty rain obscured the view of the water, creating a gray void that seemed to swallow up everything around it, including any positive feelings Paden might have still had. She trudged along in silence, her gaze on the muddy road before her.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Anders asked, "So what were you doing in the tavern so early?"

Paden shrugged. "Having a drink."

"Varric seemed concerned about that."

"Varric's like a mother hen sometimes," Paden replied.

"So there's nothing bothering you then?"

Paden paused for a moment and then shook her head. "I didn't say that."

Anders leaned forward so he could look around the brim of her hood. When that didn't work he reached out and lifted her hood from her face slightly. She glanced up at him in mild startlement.

"Well?" he asked. "I have an ear to listen."

She looked at his face for a moment; at the sincerity in his amber eyes, and suddenly she wanted to tell him everything. She wanted to spill her heart and soul to him, because somehow she knew he could take it, and that he wouldn't mind, and that he wouldn't judge. The burdens and guilt that had sat heavily on her shoulders for so long suddenly grew legs and were poised to spring away from her, if only she would let them.

"I've…just been bothered," she admitted softly. "About our last job mostly."

"About which part?" Anders asked.

Paden turned her palms up in a shrug. "Different parts. Most of it."

They walked on in silence for a moment as Paden gathered her thoughts, trying to put them all into words. It was not easy. It had been so long since she had expressed her feelings openly to anyone. Anders waited patiently, not rushing her.

Finally Paden decided she would just plunge in at the beginning. "Have you ever…killed anyone?" she asked. "I mean…with a knife?"

When he didn't answer right away, she looked up at him and saw an expression of pain on his face. He glanced away from her, and Paden suddenly realized her blunder.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I wasn't thinking. Of course you have." He had killed Karl with a knife, and that had to have been ten times more painful than anything Paden had experienced recently.

Anders held up his hand. "No, its all right. I understand what you meant. And no, Karl wasn't the first person I'd ever killed with a knife."

Paden swallowed thickly and wiped the rain off her face, trudging along in silence. She could feel Anders studying her.

"Was Iduna…?"

Paden nodded. "I've killed more times than I can count, Anders. Always in protection of myself or someone else. And…always with magic."

Anders nodded. "I see."

She looked up at him, desperately searching for understanding in his eyes. Only a mage could possibly understand what she was feeling. And Anders was the only mage she knew.

"There was just something about…running that blade into her. Feeling it sink into her flesh…the blood spilling onto my hand…" Her throat stopped up and she couldn't continue. She clenched her fists at her sides and stopped walking as she shut her eyes tightly.

Anders turned to face her and rested a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Magic has a way of distancing us from the act," he said. "Casting a spell is such a natural thing that takes almost no thought to accomplish. It's easy to get into a comfort zone in which we convince ourselves that it's the magic that is doing the killing, and not ourselves. The truth is harder to ignore when blood is soaking our hands."

Paden nodded. That was it exactly. He had summed up everything she had been feeling since that encounter with Iduna. Everything she had not been able to understand well enough to put into words herself. The relief she felt to know that she was not alone in that was immense.

"Paden," Anders said softly.

She looked up at him and met his eyes. They were filled with kindness and understanding, and her heart nearly melted at the sight.

"Regardless of how you ended Iduna's life, you did the right thing," he said. "Never doubt that. She could not be allowed to go free, and turning her over to the Templars would have ensured her death anyway—only in a much worse fashion."

Paden hung her head. "I know," she whispered. "It just…sometimes I just feel like such a bad person."

Anders hooked his finger under her chin and gently tipped her head back up to look at him. He gave her a soft, sympathetic smile. "You are a good person, Hawke. The fact that you've experienced so much grief over this proves it. You care about people. You give up what's yours for others—people you've only just met. You risk your life almost daily to make other people's lives better."

"For coin," Paden protested.

Anders shook his head. "Did you help Keran for coin? No. You knew there would likely be no reward, yet you did it anyway. You risked your life—risked exposure—to save a Templar, not for your own benefit, but for that of the stranger you met on the street. You are a glittering jewel among ashes, Hawke."

Paden blinked, and a single tear trailed down her cheek as she gazed up at him. Her chin trembled and she forced a bashful laugh, not used to such compliments. But they made her feel warm inside, and she all but forgot how cold and drenched she was.

"Paden," she said softly, not taking her eyes from his. "I like it when you call me Paden."

He gave her that lopsided smile of his that she loved so much, and his thumb stroked her cheek gently, sending a tremble to her knees.

"Paden," he said.

For a long moment they stood thus on the sandy road by the coast. Paden could not hear the whistling of the wind or the spatter of the rain for the sound of her own heart thudding in her chest.

There was no denying it. She had tried to convince herself over and over all week long that she could be "just friends" with Anders, but she knew that would never be true. Every time she was close to him the only thing she wanted was to be in his arms. To feel that safety and contentment wrapped around her, never to let her go. Did he not feel anything for her? The gentle stroking of her cheek with his thumb hinted otherwise, and when his glance shifted briefly to her lips, she knew. He felt more for her than he was letting on.

But then it was over. Anders must have realized where this moment was going, and he smiled softly, letting his hand fall to her shoulder. He gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Well," he said, his voice catching in his throat. "We're looking for elfroot. I'm nearly out at the clinic." He dropped his hand to his side and turned to continue their stroll.

Paden felt herself deflate, and it took her a moment to recover and catch up with him. He had obvious feelings for her, yet he would deny them both, for what reason? Out of some fear that he might hurt her some day? How could he possibly know that? Didn't she have the right to decide whether or not anything he did or said would ever hurt her? Did he think he was doing her a favor?

Paden took a few deep breaths to calm herself. For now she would just have to let it go. He obviously was not ready for that kind of relationship and she wasn't going to push him. They hadn't known each other very long, after all. She could give him the time he needed. For now she would just enjoy being in his company, because she truly, truly did.

They spent the next two hours scrambling up and down the twisted pathways among the boulders that littered the shoreline, searching for the medicinal elfroot that liked to grow there, as well as any other herbs they came across. Anders asked her about her life growing up in Lothering, and she told him a few of her happier memories. She in turn asked him about life in the Circle, and he managed to keep his recollections focused on the more lighthearted moments. She could tell it was difficult for him to do so; she could see the struggle behind his eyes. Was he fighting with Justice, insisting that he be able to recall a good memory from his horrible past? If so then Paden was proud of him, for he succeeded, sharing about the friends he had had, the games they used to play, the practical jokes they used to pull. Apparently he had once been a master practical joker, and almost no one he knew escaped the privilege of being one of his victims. It made Paden slightly glad she hadn't known him then.

After a while the two intrepid herb gatherers stopped to take a break in the shelter of a shallow cave that faced a sandy cove. They knelt on the dry floor and let their hoods down. Paden's hair was soaked, since her cloak was not designed for extended protection against the elements. Anders' cloak, it seemed, was better suited.

"My stomach is rumbling," Paden complained. "Too bad we don't have anything to eat. Do you think you've got enough elfroot yet? Maybe we should go back and get something at the Hanged Man."

"I still need to find a few more plants," Anders said. Then he opened the satchel he had brought to collect the herbs in, and pulled out a leather-wrapped bundle. He set it on the floor by their knees and gestured for her to open it, then continued digging in his bag.

Paden unfolded the supple leather, revealing yet another bundle wrapped in a clean white cloth. She smiled in bemusement and unwrapped the cloth, revealing two only slightly smushed sandwiches. Paden looked up at Anders in surprise.

"You packed one for me, too? Was it your plan to bring me out here all along, and not just as a way to stop me from drinking too much?"

He grinned and handed her a water flask. "Guilty as charged," he said. "I thought you could use a break from the stress of work. You've seemed under a lot of stress since I met you. I was hoping to see if there was a different side of you."

A smile spread across her face that quickly turned into a grin, and then she giggled—a sound not often heard from her lips.

Anders chuckled and pointed a finger at her. "And now I've seen the elusive creature," he said.

She laughed outright. "Creature? I'm a creature? You mean like a dragon or a bear or something?"

"No, no, not a dragon." He shook his head and his smile softened as he regarded her. "No…more like a doe; shy and beautiful."

Paden's breath caught upon hearing those words, and a blush came to her cheeks. She looked up at him, once again drawn to those wonderful, honey-colored eyes of his.

Then her stomach growled. Loudly.

She clapped a hand over it and another over her mouth as she giggled again. "I'm afraid I sound more like a dragon right now."

Anders chuckled and picked up one of the sandwiches. He handed it to her. "Better eat, before it eats you," he said.

The sandwich was good, and the company even better. She completely forgot about the wet and the chill, so focused was she on the good time she was having. She hadn't had this much fun in years.

It took her only moments to devour the sandwich, and then she began to gather up any small rocks that were within her reach on the cave floor and stack them carefully one atop the other. She turned them this way and that, fitting them together strategically for optimum balance.

"What are you doing?" Anders asked after watching her for a moment.

"Making a rock tower," she replied simply.

"Well, as evidenced by your skill, you've obviously done this many times before."

Paden nodded with a fond smile. "My father and I used to build these on our walks in the Wilds. Whenever we stopped to have a break, we'd leave a rock tower behind to mark the occasion."

"That's a nice tradition," Anders remarked. "And a nice memory. You and your father were very close."

Paden nodded. "He really was my best friend. I still miss him."

"How long has it been?"

"Four years." Paden glanced up and gave him a melancholy smile. "I suppose I'll always miss him, won't I?"

Anders nodded. "I still miss my mother sometimes; she and I had been close. But…it does get easier."

Paden placed a couple more rocks, and then sat back and admired her handiwork. "For you, Papa," she said softly. After a moment she glanced at Anders. He was watching her. "It's been four years since I made one of these," she said.

He gave her a soft smile, and then reached over and plucked a small flower from the grass by the cave's mouth. Then he carefully moved the top stone of the tower over a little and placed another, smaller one beside it. Last of all, he wedged the flower stem between them, and it stayed there, standing proudly as if it were still growing from the ground, it's delicate white and red petals sparkling slightly with accumulated raindrops.

"For those who can no longer be with us," Anders said.

Paden smiled as she gazed at the flower. "Now it's perfect," she said. "Do you know what this flower is called?"

"It's Andraste's Grace," Anders said. "One of my favorite flowers, actually."

"You have a favorite flower? I didn't know men had favorite flowers."

"Now how is that fair?" Anders asked playfully. "If a woman can appreciate the beauty in a sword, can not a man appreciate the beauty in a flower?"

"Well, when you put it that way," Paden said with a chuckle. "So why is it your favorite?"

"They grow all over in Amaranthine," Anders explained. "They're used to help treat Darkspawn taint."

"Really? Does it work?"

"If it's used almost immediately after contamination," Anders said. "Before the poison can circulate through the blood."

"And that's why it's your favorite?"

"No!" He wrinkled his nose at her. "You interrupted me before I could tell you why."

Paden laughed and gestured for him to continue. "I'm sorry, go ahead."

"So one day the Warden Commander's Mabari hound got into the infirmary at the Keep, chasing down Ser Pounce-a-Lot, apparently."

"Oh, that's right, your cat," Paden interrupted again. "You mentioned you had a cat with that name."

Anders arched an eyebrow at her.

"Sorry, sorry, do finish your story."

"So the healer's store of Andraste's Grace was completely ruined, and she…was…furious!" He laughed at the memory. "She banned all dogs and cats from that entire floor of the keep, and gave the Warden Commander an earful."

Anders paused to take a sip from the water flask before continuing. "Anyway, so the Warden Commander, kindhearted soul that she is, took it upon herself to replace the entire stock of Andraste's Grace."

"So…that's why you like it so much?" Paden asked.

"Andraste's nickerweasles, woman!" Anders exclaimed. "Let me finish my blighted story."

Paden laughed and covered her face with her hands. "Sorry!"

Anders groaned dramatically, but Paden could see the smile in the corner of his mouth.

"Now where was I?"

"The Warden Commander replacing the ruined flowers."

"Yes, well, she dragged me along with her. Said she wasn't about to spend a day traipsing all over the countryside by herself, and that it was partially my fault anyway, since it was my cat that made her dog trash the infirmary in the first place—which is still very debatable to this day. But to make a long story short, I spent an entire day with just the Warden Commander, and I got to know her, and she got to know me—more than anyone had before. She wasn't a mage, but I felt like she really understood where I was coming from, and she didn't judge me. She was…a true friend. One of the few."

"Too bad she was married to the king, right?" Paden teased.

Anders arched an eyebrow at her, and then made a show of studying his fingernails. "True, I was quite a ladykiller back then." He gave her a wink. "But no, not the Warden Commander. She had eyes only for the king." He gave her a pointed glance. "Anyway, that's why it's my favorite flower. And because it smells like honey."

Paden laughed. "You could have just mentioned its smell in answer to my question and I would have been satisfied."

"Was my story that dull?"

"No, of course not. I liked it." She leaned forward, putting her nose to the flower and inhaling its scent. "Mm, it does smell like honey. And now it's my favorite flower, too."

"Why, because of it's smell?"

Paden shook her head and leaned back on her heels. "No, because now it will always remind me of this day."