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Crash and Burn	By : youjik33 Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 1819 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Dragon Age 2 and all the characters in this story are owned by BioWare; I just gave Cavendish a first name. I make no profit off this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Crash and Burn
- 2-Part 2
- 1
- 2
“Did I do the right thing, Varric?” Cavendish asked, leaning against the hall outside his bedroom door. Inside, Anders slept, exhausted from the fight and from keeping all of them alive.

“Hawke,” the dwarf replied, “I don't even know if there was a right thing.” Hawke smiled despite himself as Varric continued. “You stood up for the man you love – who could blame you for that?”

“I spared a terrorist who murdered the Grand Cleric.”

“Well, that too. It's all in how you want to spin it. Personally I'd stick with my version.”

Hawke closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, letting the wall support him. Somewhere downstairs he could hear the murmuring of voices as the others discussed the situation. “I can't believe you all followed me,” Hawke murmured. “Even Fenris. I was sure he'd storm off and I'd see him as a general in Sebastian's hypothetical army.”

“Maybe he just likes you more than he hates mages.”

“That's... rather terrifying. I'm not really that charismatic, am I?”

“You are, Hawke,” Varric chuckled. “Champion of Kirkwall, remember? I would've thought you'd be used to all the adulation by now.”

“I doubt I'll ever be used to it. But... thank you, Varric. Talking to you always makes me feel a little better, somehow.”

“Talking's what I'm all about,” Varric said. “But I'm glad I could help. Now I'm going to go raid your wine cellar. We could all do with a drink or two. Or ten.”

Hawke turned to Interceptor, who was sprawled in front of the door, licking matted blood from between his toes. “I'm going to talk to Bethany. Let me know if Anders needs anything, all right, boy?”

“...you could have asked me,” Varric called in mock irritation from somewhere near the stairs.

“He follows orders better,” Hawke replied.

-

Bethany stood alone in their mother's room. There was such a quiet, thoughtful air about her that at first Cavendish wasn't sure he should disturb her, but then she turned to face him, and her tired eyes lit up. He crossed the room and pulled his sister into a tight hug.

“I wish she were here,” Bethany murmured into his shoulder.

“I do too,” he said with a sigh. Orana kept the abandoned room dusted; it looked as though Leandra Hawke had simply stepped out for a moment. Even after three years her absence still hurt.

“Oh, Cav,” Bethany said, squeezing his shoulders. “I'm so sorry. I did blame you, at first, and that wasn't fair at all.”

“It's all right,” Cavendish said, letting her go gently. “I wish you could have lived here with us. It's not fair that we never got to be a family here, like you wanted.”

“Yes,” Bethany said tentatively. “That's... that's why he did it, you know. Life in the Circle, it wasn't always terrible, but I should have been here with you and Mother. It's not... it's not fair!” For a moment she seemed on the verge of tears, but she pulled herself together. “Thank you for... for doing what you could. I can't even begin to imagine what's going to happen next, but I'm glad we're together again.”

“So am I.” He hugged her again. “I wish you had your own room here. You can claim whichever guest room you'd like, though.”

“I think I'll stay here, if it's all the same to you. And maybe I'll find Father's old staff.”

“That thing?” Cavendish couldn't hide his surprise. “It's in the cellar, I think. I thought you hated it. You used to always go on about how weird it was that he'd carved that naked woman at the top.”

“Well, it is weird, there's no denying that. But I think I'd like to carry it. I think... if he were still alive, I think he'd be happy right now.”

“I hope so.”

“Anyway, maybe I can sand her breasts a little smaller.”

Laughing felt good; Hawke felt the heaviness that had settled in his chest recently loosen just a bit.

“If you'd rather,” Bethany added, a hint of hesitation in her voice, “you could give it to Anders. I wouldn't mind.”

“I'm not sure he'd want to carry around that naked woman carving either,” Hawke said lightly, but in truth, the idea of handing a family treasure over to his lover was strangely exciting. Still, excitement was one thing his life certainly wouldn't be lacking any time soon.

“I'm glad you found someone, Brother,” Bethany said. “Though I'm sure Mother was disappointed she couldn't marry you off to some noble family.”

“Not that disappointed,” Hawke replied. “Though I think she would have liked to have entertained the prospect of grandchildren. Still, she couldn't very well get angry with me for falling for an apostate. And on that note...” He gave her hand a squeeze. “I should go see how he's doing.”

-

Interceptor, as it turned out, had abandoned his post. The bedroom door had been pushed slightly ajar and the dog was sprawled on the bed at Anders' side. Maybe, Hawke mused as he regarded them, he would have been better off leaving Varric in charge after all.

The mage had thrown himself fully clothed on top of the blankets, not even bothering to remove his boots. His robes were dusty and tattered, and many of the feathers of his pauldrons were missing or broken; he looked like some kind of storm-tossed bird. It was hard to fathom that Hawke had woken to him here only that morning.

He shooed Interceptor out of the room in a whisper, but Anders stirred and rolled over all the same.

“I'm sorry,” Hawke murmured, settling onto the edge of the bed. “I didn't mean to wake you.”

“You didn't, really,” Anders insisted, sitting up and pushing hair out of his eyes. “I was just dozing. I feel better already.”

“You must have been exhausted. I hope Fenris realizes that you saved his life.”

Anders chuckled. “What Fenris realizes, I'm sure, is that if it weren't for me there wouldn't have been any Templars shooting arrows at his throat in the first place.”

Hawke reached for Anders' hand, running his thumb across the bones of his wrists. They were so prominent; how had he not noticed earlier? “You've lost weight, haven't you?”

Anders gave him a sheepish smile. “I haven't been eating very well lately.”

Of course he hadn't. He hadn't expected to live through the day. There was a part of Hawke that was furious that Anders could have ever imagined that Hawke would be willing to kill him. Those few moments, when the Chantry still smoldered and Hawke found Anders' fate on his shoulders while Anders just sat there, so calm and resigned, not even turning to look at him – those were very possibly the worsts moments of Hawke's life.

Mostly, though, he just felt sad. It was a deep, aching sadness without any focus, and in an effort to suppress it Hawke put his arm around Anders' shoulders and pulled him close, hoping he would understand that Hawke would never let him go. Anders' fingers gripped the front of Hawke's shirt.

“Please don't leave me again,” Hawke said.

“I'll try.” Anders' voice shook, as if he were trying to fight off tears. “I feel... more like myself than I have in a long time. But... I don't know if I can promise...”

“I understand.” Hawke closed his eyes, focusing on the weight of the body in his arms, warm and human and real. “I suppose this will never be easy.”

“What ever is?” Anders said, and kissed him.
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