For @dadrunkwriting Friday!  In which Anders and Fenris fight, and Isabela is a good friend, and Hawke tries really, really hard to cope.

This takes place after Baby, Come Back and Fight With Me (i.e. the breakup scene in Act 2).

********************

“You know, I should have seen this coming,” Isabela said.

Fenris slowly peeled the shell from a roasted peanut. He wasn’t really hungry, but he popped it in his mouth anyway. “To what are you referring?” he asked.

“You and Hawke, of course,” she said.

Fenris didn’t reply. He shouldn’t have been surprised that Isabela was bringing this up; she had no qualms about invading anyone’s privacy.

Sure enough, she continued full speed ahead on her train of thought. “The build-up was too good,” she said, as though discussing characters in a stage play. “There was almost too much tension, you know? Of course the main event couldn’t live up to the expectations.” She studied him sympathetically. “It’s too bad, though. I know Hawke is good. And you…” She looked him over from head to toe. “I had high hopes for you. I was hoping to get some juicy stories from our girl about you.” She twisted her lips ruefully. “Ah well. I guess you can never tell.”

Fenris scowled at her. “It’s not… that is not the… It wasn’t that,” he said bluntly.

The nosy pirate raised her eyebrows. “If the sex was good, what the hell’s the problem?”

Fenris hunched his shoulders defensively. ”It didn’t work out,” he said, parroting the words that Hawke had given their group over the past couple of days when the inevitable questions came.

Isabela pursed her lips and glanced pointedly at his wrist. “And yet you’re wearing her scarf.”

He hastily moved his hand off the table. “I don’t want to talk about this with you,” he muttered.

She shrugged. “All right, fine. It’s not like I’m saying you should get married or anything.” She wrinkled her nose at the idea, then sipped her drink. “But listen, Fenris, if there’s anyone who needs to get laid on the regular, it’s you.” She eyed him frankly. “You should consider giving it another chance with Hawke. She’ll make it worth your while.” She winked at him and took another sip from her stein.

He pursed his lips and began idly peeling another peanut. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask how Isabela knew he had been the one to break things off, but he didn’t really want to hear the answer.

“What, no smoldering comeback?” Isabela rested her chin on her fists and eyed him sadly. “Well, that’s very boring.”

He rubbed his forehead. “I’m tired,” he finally offered. “I did not sleep well.” He’d had nightmares, and he hadn’t quite been able to settle from them. Fenris was no stranger to restless dreams; usually they revolved around Seheron, blurred and vivid images of bodies lying broken at his feet, all of them wreathed in blood and boiling lyrium. But last night he’d dreamt of something different: Hawke’s body, broken and bloodless on the ground. The image had been disturbing enough to stop him from sleeping soundly for the rest of the night.

Thankfully, Isabela’s sultry voice interrupted his grim reverie. “You know what helps with insomnia?” she drawled.

Fenris shot her a sardonic glance; he already knew where this was going. “I can’t imagine,” he said flatly.

“Really, really good sex,” Isabela said, with much relish. “I suggest you get some.”

“Are you offering?” Fenris said, with a very half-hearted smirk.

She snorted. “Not anymore. I’m not touching this whole situation with a ten-foot pole.” She waved her hand vaguely at him. “Too many… feelings.” She wrinkled her nose again.

He shrugged and returned to toying listlessly with the bowl of nuts. “Fair enough.” It wasn’t like he’d have taken her up on the offer, anyway. The only woman he really wanted…

No, he reminded himself firmly. Ending his romantic liaison with Hawke had been the right thing to do. It was better all around if he kept to himself.

He continued to pick in silence at the bowl of peanuts until Isabela sighed loudly. “You are a completely hopeless sad sack, you know that?”  

He scowled, annoyed by her incessant prodding, and was about to demand that she leave him alone when the tavern door opened with a bang.

“Bels!” Hawke called as she stepped into the Hanged Man. “Get your ass over here, you gorgeous tart. We’re running-” She stopped as she realized Fenris was there as well. “Oh, good, you’re here too,” she said. “We were about to go and fetch you next.”

Her voice was light and friendly, and completely different from the bold flirtatious tone that he’d grown so fond of. He offered a polite nod as he and Isabela stood from the table, then wilted slightly as he realized who the ‘we’ entailed.

Anders poked his head around Hawke’s shoulder and glanced into the pub. “Ready to go?” he said cheerfully.

Anders was the only one who still didn’t know what had transpired between Fenris and Hawke, and a feeble writhing of dread began to stir in Fenris’s stomach at the thought of spending the day with him.

They all stepped out into the feeble sunshine, and Isabela stretched her arms leisurely. “All right, sweet thing, where are we off to today? Doing something fun, I hope?”

“Nothing too exciting, unfortunately,” Hawke said, and jerked her thumb at Anders. “The pretty one wants to help some apostates get out of the city, so we’re following his lead for now.”

Fenris clenched his jaw. First Anders, and now helping apostates to escape the Templars? “I should go,” he said bluntly to Hawke. “You do not want me along for this.” It was difficult enough for him to retain some semblance of normality in her presence. He wasn’t sure he would be able to restrain his temper in the presence of apostates, and he was loathe to hurt her more than he’d already done.

To his dismay, Hawke’s cheerful expression began to fade. But before she could reply, Anders snorted and folded his arms. “You are so selfish,” he said severely. “We all follow Hawke around without complaint while she does whatever you want, and now when there’s one thing you don’t want to do-”

“I was not speaking to you,” Fenris interrupted.

“You and I are both advocating for people’s freedoms!” Anders snapped. “How can you be so pig-headed as to not see that?”

“It is not the same,” Fenris retorted. “You want to argue that apostates are equivalent to slaves? Maleficar have chosen their fates. They chose to become a menace that requires putting down. Slaves do not choose to become slaves.” He jabbed an emphatic finger in Anders’s direction. “Do not speak to me of freedom when you walk through this city with a ticking bomb wrapped around your soul!”

Anders rubbed his forehead in exasperation, then turned to Hawke. “I know it’s not my place to criticize, but are you sure you want him?” Anders jerked his head at Fenris as though Fenris wasn’t even there. “He seems less a man to me than a wild dog.”

Fenris sucked in an enraged breath and took a step toward him, and Isabela sighed loudly. “Oh for fuck’s bloody sake,” she said.

Hawke deftly inserted herself between the two men, placing one placating hand on Fenris’s chest as she raised her eyebrows at Anders. “You don’t know him,” she said firmly.

“I know as much as I’m ever likely to,” Anders retorted.

“That’s right, mage,” Fenris snarled. Anders was as bad as any Tevinter magister Fenris had ever met. He adopted the facade of a helpful healer with his clinic, when all he really wanted was to dominate. The angry spirit that pulsed behind Anders’s eyes was obvious proof of that. Fenris had no respect for Anders, and he didn’t give a fuck if Anders felt the same.  

Anders continued to blather at Hawke, fixedly ignoring Fenris in the process. “He has let one bad experience colour his whole world! Surely you want someone more open-minded.”

“Like you, you mean?” Fenris snapped, then laughed nastily. “A mage and a hypocrite! What company you keep,” he snarled at Hawke.

He instantly regretted the cruelty of his tone when she flinched. Eyes on the ground, she exhaled loudly, then lifted her chin and smiled brightly at them both. “Boys, boys, let’s not fight over me, all right?” she purred. “I know I’m the most gorgeous woman in Kirkwall, present company excepted…” She winked at Isabela, who blew her a kiss in return, “…but let’s get on with our day, shall we? We’ve got a lot to do today before I go home and drown myself in a bathtub filled with brandy.”

“Hear hear,” Isabela interjected. “That’s a plan I can get behind.” She pushed Fenris aside and hooked her arm through Hawke’s, then tossed Anders a quick glance over her shoulder. “Come on then, you blond idiot. Let’s get on with it.”

Anders glared at Fenris for a second longer, then shook his head in disgust and headed toward Lowtown’s market. Fenris reluctantly followed suit, silenced by the ugly combination of rage and guilt that roiled in his belly. Hawke and Isabela trailed behind them, whispering and snickering together arm-in-arm, and Fenris was thankful for Isabela’s light-hearted presence. He was being horrible and he knew it, but he couldn’t seem to stop. His rage and his resentment felt closer than usual, more damaging than the lyrium under his skin, and it was difficult to hold them in check.

And of course, Anders was no help. Somehow Fenris found himself walking beside the misbegotten mage, and Anders simply would not let things lie.

“I can’t imagine what Hawke sees in you,” he said scathingly.

Fenris took a deep and steadying breath. There was one thing he could do for Hawke – one small burden he could take. He told Anders the truth. “It is done. Leave it be,” he growled.

Anders looked at him in surprise, his eyes darting curiously from Fenris’s bescarved wrist to his face. “Oh,” he said blankly, then recovered his smug aplomb with an almost offensive speed. “Well, good,” he said. “I always knew she had some sense hidden away under all those pranks.”

“Do not make light of this,” Fenris said quietly. “Leaving was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.” Then he snapped his mouth shut and ran an agitated hand through his hair. Venhedis. Hawke had been keeping neutral about who-had-done-what when telling the others. Fenris hadn’t meant to say…

Unfortunately, Anders didn’t miss the admission. The ex-Grey Warden stopped in his tracks and stared at Fenris incredulously. “You left her? You left? You,” he said, his voice absolutely slathered in disbelief.

“Vishante kaffas,” Fenris hissed. He glanced at Hawke, and his stomach dropped at the stricken look on her face.

Then Isabela interrupted loudly. “Oh, would the two of you get over yourselves? I slept with her too. Why isn’t anyone yelling at me?”

Hawke burst out a slightly hysterical-sounding little laugh, and thankfully, at long last, Anders turned his attention away from Fenris to grin at Isabela instead. “Isabela, you sleep with everyone,” he said. “The entire population of Kirkwall should be yelling at you by all rights.”

Isabela released Hawke’s arm and sashayed over to Anders’s side. “Well, that’s where you’re wrong,” she purred. “I haven’t slept with you.”

“Ah, that’s right,” Anders drawled. “And are you looking to rectify that?”

Isabela eyed him lasciviously, then abruptly dropped the sex-kitten act and snorted dismissively. “Not bloody likely,” she said.

Fenris couldn’t help it. Despite himself, he laughed.

Isabela smirked at him. “You shouldn’t laugh. I’ll never sleep with you, either.” She strolled back over to Hawke, then playfully tapped her on the nose. “Only this one can brag about the long, hot, steamy nights we spent together…”

Hawke grinned and wrapped her arm around Isabela’s waist. “Don’t forget the days. The days were even steamier.”

They laughed dirtily, and finally the group continued on their way, Hawke and Isabela poking lewd insults at Anders while he joked with them in return. Fenris lagged behind, watching the women’s banter with a faint sense of wistfulness. He was violently grateful to Isabela for dispelling the ugly row, but he couldn’t help but feel envious of the erstwhile captain’s easy hands as they flicked flirtatiously at Hawke’s hair and slapped Hawke playfully on the ass.

There was no point feeling envious, though. He’d made the decision to end things with Hawke, and it was the right one to make.

He surreptitiously watched the swaying stroll of Hawke’s hips. He thought of the way she’d defended him against Anders’ insults, despite what he’d done to her. And he thought of his dreams: lifeless bodies lying at his feet, wreathed in blood and boiling lyrium, and Hawke, pale and lifeless like a broken doll.

Breaking things off with her had certainly been the right thing to do. But with a pang of despair, Fenris realized that maybe it wasn’t enough.

*******************

Later that night, Fenris knocked on Hawke’s door.

Bodahn led him inside as cheerfully as ever and went to fetch Hawke. A minute later, she drifted out of her bedroom. “Fenris,” she said in surprise. “I didn’t expect-”

“I am leaving Kirkwall,” he blurted.

Her eyes widened, and she hurried down the stairs. “What? Why?”

He’d been thinking about this during this whole excruciating day. He and Hawke had spent the rest of the day being painfully polite to each other, and thus they had barely spoken. He’d watched with wistful envy as she flirted playfully with Isabela and Anders, and he’d bitten his tongue about the whole apostate-rescuing situation until he’d given himself a headache, and it had been… horrible. Unnatural. He couldn’t imagine that it had been any easier for Hawke.

He didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to leave her side. Even if they couldn’t be together, she was the only good thing he’d had in his life for as long as he could remember. But he couldn’t stand another day like today, and the idea of putting her through more of the same…

“I am doing you no favours by being here,” he said in a rush. If he said it quickly, he wouldn’t be able to cede to the temptation of taking it back. “You say you wish for us to remain friends, but I don’t know how to do this,” he said. “It… you would be better off without me here.”

She stared at him, arms folded, her eyebrows creasing slowly into a frown. She opened her mouth, then stopped and turned her back on him. Fenris waited in painful silence until she turned around to face him again.

Her response was not what he expected. “If you leave, where will you go?” she asked.

He swallowed. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure. “That is not your concern,” he said.

She gave a short bark of laughter. “I’m sorry, have you met me? Apparently everything is my concern. Just ask, oh, everyone in this damned city,” she said, then waved at the messy pile of letters on her writing desk. She folded her arms again and fixed him with a pointed stare. “But the concerns of my friends are actually important. Where would you go? To Qarinus to find Varania?”

He frowned. He still didn’t know what he was going to do with Hadriana’s information. It felt like an unfamiliar weapon, or a cure for a disease that he didn’t understand, and Fenris didn’t feel comfortable about how to use it yet.

He could feel his shoulders tensing, but he forced himself to stay calm. “I do not want to talk about that,” he said brusquely.

She covered her face briefly with her hands, then shook her head and lifted her face from her hands. “Fenris, don’t leave on my account, all right?” she said. She straightened up and planted one hand on her hip. “We can go back to the way things were. I might actually explode if I have to stop flirting with you. And I’m not going to fall apart into a blubbering mess if you yell at me about blood magic and mages and so on. In fact, I might rain firebombs on myself if we have to keep on tip-toeing around each other like this.”

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. This was exactly what he’d feared: that she’d reel him back in with her flirting and her sense of humour and her sunny naiveté. “Hawke…”

“I’m not a delicate flower, you know,” she interrupted cheerfully. She tilted her head thoughtfully. “I’m more like one of those felandaris brambles. All cool and twisted and spiky…”

A shining memory of her tattoo flashed across his mind: the twisting lines and spikes that spanned her left shoulder blade and the side of her ribs, the sharp black lines contrasting with the softness of her bare golden skin…

He ruthlessly shunted the thought away. Her eyes were sparkling with mischief as she waited for his answer, and Fenris scrambled for a halfway-appropriate response. “That sounds like me as well,” he said.

She smiled and punched him in the arm. “Ah, a rare thing we have in common! See, we have to stay friends. We can do this, right?”

He rubbed the back of his head. It wouldn’t be as easy as she made it seem, and he knew it. But against his better judgment, he found himself agreeing. “I… yes. All right.”

“Good,” she said. “So you’ll go back to yelling at me and flirting with me like normal, then?” Her question was brisk and matter-of-fact, and it made it easier for him to reply.

“I suppose so, yes,” he agreed.

“Wonderful!” she said. “Because I’ve got a really good prank lined up involving Cullen and Anders and a fake phylactery-”

“No,” he said sternly, and Hawke burst into laughter. “Maker’s balls, I missed this,” she said happily. “You can use that forbidding tone with me anytime.”

He smirked and shook his head ruefully, then headed for her front door. “Goodnight, Hawke,” he said flatly, and took one step out of her house.

But she stopped him with a gentle grip on his wrist, and he turned back to look at her.

“This sucks, and it’s awkward right now, but by this time next week it won’t be,” she said firmly. “It’ll be fine. I promise.”

He gazed into her earnest amber eyes, and a dull ache bloomed behind his sternum. He was the one who had hurt her. He was the one who had broken what they had, and yet she was the one reassuring him.

All the more proof that he wasn’t fit to be with her, or with anyone.

He didn’t really believe that things would be fine, but he didn’t have the heart to contradict her now. “I will take your word for it,” he said softly.

She smiled slowly at him, then released his wrist. “Goodnight, Fenris.”

He shot her a small, half-hearted smile before turning away and trudging off to his mansion. Hawke always tried to see the best in the ugliest situations. It was one of her traits that Fenris found both aggravating and endearing, and it usually worked in her favour. But Fenris wasn’t convinced that optimism alone would be enough to bandage this wound.