The Weight of the Rain.

Title: The Weight of the Rain.
Fandom/Universe: Dragon Age II.
Pairing: Fenris & F! Mage Hawke.
Rating: U.
Genre: Angst/Guilt/Forgiveness/Little teeny hint of the mushy stuff.
Length: 1, 700.
Disclaimer: I love Bioware & occasionally I use their characters to act out scenarios in my brain.

A/N: Set a week or two after the party have finished the Night Terrors quest in the Fade. Hawke & Fenris got it on ages ago &, of course, he left. He likes to beat himself up over it.

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This was wrong.

Heavy rain thundered from the clouds, spattering Fenris' back in cold water & making his armour feel heavier than usual. His hair was sopping wet, forcing the elf to shake his head every few seconds in order to see beyond his curtain of thick, white mane. With a growl of exertion, he swung his greatsword in a wide arc, cutting through an approaching enemy as if the man were made of butter.

More bodies of the recently deceased lay scattered at Fenris' frozen feet (most of them in more than one piece). Any pools of blood that had begun to blossom were quickly absorbed by the already sodden sand, leaving dark splashes of colour across the wounded coast.

This particular fight had been far too messy & had taken far too long. The familiar sense of camaraderie & cohesion in battle that Fenris & his – dare he say it? Friends – had come to rely on over the years had been shattered; lost because of what happened during their first (& what the elf also hoped was his last) trip to the Fade.

He instinctively looked upward when a belt of thunder rumbled from over the sea. The dark waves crashed violently onto nearby rocks, spraying the elf & his party with saltwater. Fenris growled & thrust his sword downward into the thick, soggy sand, which held the blade in place as he ran one gauntled hand over his forehead in an attempt to clear his flooded vision.

Even during battle, when he could move impulsively & without conscious thought, Fenris was continually torturing himself. Swordplay was much like therapy for the elf; it was satisfying to swing & thrust his enormous blade; felling the faceless bodies around him whilst turning in slow circles. Every movement of his limbs, every shift of his muscles; it was all purely instinctual. But now he was distracted & tormenting himself by re-playing those moments in the Fade over & over again. He could still hear the desire demon's whisper in his ear & see the glorious, tainted images she had put in his mind. A wave of sickness passed over the elf as he involuntarily recalled the very moment when he did the one thing he had always promised himself he would never do - the same thing that a countless number of those that he abhorred had done to him. He wished with bitter regret that he could pull the words out of the air & bury them back inside his body, to be able to reverse everything to a point where he hadn't thrown away the loyalty of a woman he come to revere.

Lost in his painful thoughts, Fenris' gaze moved over to Varric, who nodded back to him as he holstered Bianca. The expression on the dwarves' face made it clear that he felt the same sense of unease & shame that Fenris did (though the elf was quite certain that there was no one on this beach that loathed themselves more than he right now). Their guilty thoughts were clearly following the same path, as both men turned almost simultaneously to look at Hawke.

She was fifty feet further up the beach, locked in battle with one of the few remaining mercenaries left. Hawke spun her staff over her head & across her back faster than Fenris could follow – the intense magic she crafted making her glow brightly against the blackened sky.

The elf watched as she twirled gracefully between the mercenaries' much slower & obviously rather bewildered movements. He moved to strike but Hawke elegantly twisted out of his way & continued to dance in circles, occasionally unleashing a fireball from her palm that would engulf one of the poor man's limbs in smoke & flame.

If it weren't for the present situation, Fenris could have almost felt sorry for Hawke's target – the mage was known amongst their party for occasionally toying with her folly before moving for an easy kill, especially if she were in a good mood.

Hawke suddenly ducked beneath the mercenaries' swooping axe & let out a powerful cry, bringing her staff up to meet the side of her target's head with a sickening crunch. The expression on her face was not that of a child playing with it's food – it was the look of a frustrated, anguished woman who had been selfishly betrayed by those who loved her most.

The man's knees instantly buckled, crimson blood splashing across Hawke's hands. The mage watched her folly as he hit the wet sand with a thump, her chest heaving. The expression she bore was hard & set, though Fenris noted that her eyes seemed distant & unfocused.

The elf swallowed a lungful of salty air & tightened his fists. The shame inside him was tantamount to physical pain. It was he that had put that haunted look on her face; those rings under her eyes, the clenching of her jaw, that mournful howl of anguish that escaped her lips as she pummelled enemies with her staff; it was all his fault.

His reverie was suddenly broken by a sudden, sharp stab of pain across one shoulder. Hissing loudly, Fenris instinctively turned on his heel & coughed as he was met by a plume of purple smoke masking a shaded form, the constant rain making the figure harder to see.

A rusty blade was thrust just beneath the elf's iron spaulders, the owner's gloved hand still gripping the weapon's hilt. Fenris snarled loudly at the assassin, clasping his own gauntlet over the dagger's handle, though the rain made his grip unsteady. He pushed with all of his strength, forcing the blade out of & away from his body as the elf's lyrium brands blazed blue with pain & indignation. The assassin stumbled under Fenris' burst of might & fell backward into the soft, wet sand.

The elf squinted downward at the man, trails of rainwater marking their path across his face, & pushed one hand to his open wound in order to stem the bloodflow. Without warning, the sound of a rushing arrow whipped at the side of Fenris' ear & less than a second later, the bolt was lodged firmly between the assassin's eyes.

"Watch your back, broody," Varric called across the wind, slipping Bianca behind his back.

"Fenris?" Hawke appeared from behind, her hands glowing gold with healing magic as she held them to the wound.

"Thankyou, Hawke," He managed, squinting uncomfortably as the mage pressed her palms to the rips in his armour.

She didn't respond but Fenris could feel her gaze upon his face. He stared down at the raindrops spattering on the assassin's lifeless body.

"It's not like you to be so easily caught off guard," She ventured after a moment of silent regard.

The relentless storm gave another crash of thunder. Fenris said nothing & continued to look away. He hated it when she tried to speak as if everything was the same between them, as if he hadn't turned his back on her for his own selfish desires. He shut his eyes & tried to concentrate on the warmth caressing his closing wound, though he immediately felt guilty for enjoying the sensation of having her hands on his body. He realised this was the first time he'd had any physical contact with Hawke since the night they had shared together almost a year ago. His eyes opened & involuntarily flickered to her face, which was studied in concentration at his injury.

Hawke glanced back at him & their eyes locked for a moment. Her dark, wet hair was stuck to the sides of her face & a wan smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. A dull, aching want rose in Fenris' stomach & he turned his head away in shame.

"We haven't really had a chance to speak since Fenyriel left for the Circle," She began, her fingers gently smoothing over his bloodied skin.

Why was she doing this? Was she probing him for an apology, an admission of his guilt? Fenris thought it obvious that the anger & disgrace that plagued him every day was plain enough for everyone to see. She must know the grief that was written across his face each time he looked upon her. Wasn't it enough?

"There is nothing to be said," He responded darkly & he shivered a little when the magic's warmth spread down his side.

"On the contrary, I think there is much to be said," Hawke removed her hands, the golden glow fading from her fingertips, & the elf felt a twinge of regret that she had finished healing him.

The mage moved to stand before Fenris, her boots quietly padding in the sodden sand. She lowered her head a little so that they were level & he saw rain trace marks across her wet cheeks.

"It doesn't have to be like this," She murmured, a determined frown across her face, "You have burdened yourself with a needless guilt."

The elf blinked back at her in disbelief, "Needless? You think my guilt is without cause? Hawke, I betrayed you to a demon!"

"I am a mage," She replied, & Fenris saw her eyes harden, "I know better than anyone what lurks in the Fade - what promises are offered with little asked in return," Her mask of confidence slipped briefly then, & the elf caught a a note of sadness in her voice, "I will not pretend that your decision didn't hurt me..."

Hawke paused & Fenris saw the conflict etched across her features. He itched to walk away from her, to leave her with those that were worthy of her company. He clenched his jaw & remained still, knowing he could never turn his back unless she requested it of him.

"I understand the magic she would have used on you," Hawke added, her eyes wide with sincerity. The elf found it hard to look at her. "I know the strength of a demon's influence."

A streak of lightning clattered above their heads & illuminated the conviction on Hawke's face. Even if she could no longer trust the elf, Fenris knew that he could always take assurance from her. The determination with which she spoke to him eased his temper.

"I would like things to return to as they were," She added a little more nervously & her eyes flickered down to her boots, "I have missed the ease of our conversation &... The comfort I take from your company."

Before he was able to respond, Hawke had turned her back & was marching back down the coast. Fenris saw Varric give a curious grin over his shoulder before following suit across the sand.

The elf paused & wiped water from his face. What he had done; he knew that it was unforgivable. But Hawke was definitely worth any time or effort Fenris may spend trying to repay her, & the elf knew that he had a lot of time on his hands.

Maybe he could make this right.