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Hawke leaned against the closed door. Tears stung the back of her eyes, and she twisted her face in an effort to stem them. Whatever happened, she was not walking through the Hanged Man, not walking across Lowtown and Hightown, in tears. All the overblown rumors about the stupid Champion of Kirkwall were bad enough—hearing speculation about why the 'Champion' had been seen crying in the middle of the night would be unbearable.

Nearly as unbearable as standing here with a flimsy piece of wood between herself and the man she couldn't stop dreaming of. Her body still ached with arousal, her breasts still tingled from the touch of those clever, capable hands and that golden tongue. What she really wanted, really, truly wanted right at this moment, was to turn around and burst through that door and rip his clothes off and take her pleasure. His, too. And she didn't think, if she really pushed it, that he would stop her. In fact, she bet he'd be a willing participant, once she got past whatever it was that was holding him back.

But she also knew that in the morning, he would wake up and be just as closed-off as he was right now, and she would have gained nothing but a single night taken by force, when what she really wanted was to have him break through that barrier himself and admit that he wanted her.

At least standing here brooding for a few minutes had taken away her urge to weep. Instead, she really wanted to fight something.

Making her way down the stairs, she was delighted to see several of her companions at a table near the door. Fenris sat uncomfortably between Sebastian and Isabela. The former prince turned Chantry brother was carrying on a determined campaign to save Fenris's soul for the Maker, while Isabela carried on an equally determined campaign to use Fenris's body for herself. As far as Hawke could tell, Fenris was inclined in both directions, and she wished the other two would just stop pulling and let Fenris decide for himself how much of him wanted to worship at each altar.

Regardless of Fenris's dilemma, Hawke was glad to see him because he was always in the mood for a fight. As was Isabela. And, although he would never admit it, Sebastian was, too. Signaling to the three of them, she led the way out of the bar and into the darkness of a Lowtown night, where, true to form, a merc band jumped out at them from the shadows before they had reached the stairs.

Isabela melted back into the shadows once the fight was over, and Sebastian turned off toward the Chantry, leaving Fenris and Hawke heading toward their mansions together.

"Hawke. Are you … all right?" The question came out haltingly, Fenris being unused to having the freedom to care about someone else's well-being.

She shrugged.

"I see. Is it … your mother?"

Looking at him, Hawke could see that he really wanted to know, so she took a moment to consider the question and give him a truthful answer. "A little. And Bethany, a little. And that terrible empty house, a little. But mostly …" She looked around. "I love Kirkwall. It's warmer and less muddy than Ferelden, and there's always something to do. But … I seem to have run out of choices. I never wanted to be this … Champion, or live in this house, or—" Or be alone, she wanted to say, but she didn't want to get into that. "And now I can't get out from under any of it. I don't know … maybe it's time for something new. There's nothing holding me here."

"Is there not?" Fenris's green eyes studied her intently. "I thought—but perhaps I was mistaken."

"Good friends." She smiled at him, surprising him into an answering smile. "Which is something. Maker, maybe it's everything. I don't know. But … I'm not sure it's enough any longer."

"If it's any consolation, I believe you aren't alone in that consideration."

For a moment, her pulse leaped, thinking he was talking about Varric, that somehow he knew something she didn't know about what in Thedas went on in that dwarf's mind. But then she realized that Fenris was speaking of himself, and his own dilemma, and so she stopped and listened and helped him see that it was possible both to allow himself to believe in the Maker and the promises of the afterlife and to reach for Isabela and the promises of this life.

Fenris being Fenris, he was difficult to convince, and she wasn't entirely sure she had gotten through to him … but she had cracked that defensive mask he wore, and that was something. At least one of them was heading home with a lighter heart, she thought, turning her steps toward her own mansion.

Her housekeeper, Bodahn, was standing outside looking up at the stars. "Ah, serah, you're back! Did you have a successful evening?"

Hawke shrugged. "I've had worse. Doing some star-gazing, Bodahn?"

"I was just thinking that my boy and I have been in one place a very long time. It might be worth considering moving on."

She smiled. "I've had similar thoughts."

"Got a bit of the wanderlust yourself, eh?"

"Maybe. You know I appreciate all you and Sandal have done these last several years, don't you?"

"Of course. And we wouldn't leave you without warning, serah. We wouldn't do that."

"Thank you, Bodahn. Good-night."

He murmured an answering good-night, his eyes still on the stars, and she let herself into the echoing house. Alone, as always.