Chapter Five

Fire scorched the walls around her. Ten-year-old Marilyn scampered away from the wreckage of her home, her mother holding her hand tightly. The smoke choked her and she coughed hard, squeezing shut her stinging eyes. The screams of the other people trapped in their emblazed homes echoed around her. The fire raged around them, not a single soul was attempting to tame the blaze.

Her fear was sickening as her mother shoved her into a narrow air vent.

"Find your father, Marilyn." She said urgently. "Quickly, honey."

"Mommy!" Marilyn cried as her mother was suddenly dragged away from her with a scream.

"Find your father!" Her mother was saying over and over again as a man hauled her down the burning corridor. Marilyn, clutching her teddy bear Simon, turned and shuffled through the vent.

She was so confused. One moment her daddy had been telling her a story to send her to sleep, smoking his pipe, and the next a huge explosion had rattled the windows. She knew it was a very special day. It was New Years Eve – she was used to big parties with her parents' friends. Often her daddy would perform tricks with his plasmids. She loved it when he did that.

But this evening, her daddy had said there wasn't going to be a big party. She'd been confused, but she'd accepted this.

Sniffing, she continued onwards. The tunnel seemed to stretch out forever – she hoped she could find her daddy.

"It's okay, Simon." She said, her voice shaking in fear. She was trying to comfort herself. Her nightie caught on her legs as she crawled. Simon's dark button eyes stared up at her sightlessly. The metal around her was cold, and the echoes of continued fighting made her feel sick. She hated fighting.

The memory seemed to fast forward.

Suddenly she was sitting in an office, her daddy tending to her scraped knees while she clutched Simon close, and cried softly.

"Th-they took mommy!" she wailed softly.

"Shh, it's alright." Her daddy wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. "You're going to be alright now. Mommy's in a better place now."

She paused and whispered. "Is she in Valhalla?" Her daddy's stories about Odin and the other gods had always comforted her. Her daddy peered at her with dark eyes, his expression pained. She cocked her head, the moment hanging on his answer. She hoped mommy was in Valhalla with all the great warriors; because mommy was definitely a warrior.

"Of course." Her daddy's voice shook slightly. She sighed in relief and smiled.

"That's good. That means she's happy."

All the worry bled out of her in that moment and her daddy turned from her, heading to his desk and starting to write a note. She peered at the picture on his desk and saw her family. And her little sister.

Confusion entered her heart as she stared at the little girl next to her in the picture. Her sister had gone missing so long ago she could hardly remember why. She'd known once, but she didn't understand now. She sighed softly, looking down at the floor.

The dream faded as Marilyn woke up slowly. Pain throbbed in her heart as she remembered that night. She'd never seen her mother again. Her father had died six years after, leaving her to fend for herself at sixteen. And her sister... Gods... that's why she was still here.

The constant desire to find her sister was all that was keeping her from blowing her brains out with her pistol. She had two leads, and a sneaking suspicion what had happened. She'd obviously been turned into a little sister.

Marilyn swept the thoughts aside as she rose from the bed and grabbed her dressing gown, pulling it on and padding out her room. She had more important things to think about. The others were asleep. Birdie and Mister Emotional were squashed on the couch for warmth, Varric and Santa's-Little-Helper were snoring softly on the thin mattress she'd managed to salvage and Fenris... Fenris was awake.

"Morning." He said softly, peering at her with those hypnotic eyes. She blinked and hesitated.

"Uh... morning."

Silently, he got to his feet and made his way to her over his sleeping companions. She eyed him suspiciously. She hadn't been alone with him for a long time – not since the Big Daddy over a week ago. Gods... he was extraordinarily eye catching.

He stopped before her, staring at her and frowning softly.

"Are you alright?" He asked softly. She raised an eyebrow.

"Of course."

"Don't lie." His voice held strained patience. "I heard you crying out in your sleep. What's wrong?"

She hesitated again, silently cursing herself. If only she could keep her trap shut when she slept! Then she wouldn't have awkward situations like this. She sighed.

"It's a little complicated. You don't need to worry." She turned away from him and headed to the bathroom. She felt a warm hand on her arm and she stopped dead. Fenris never touched anyone.

"I do worry."

She blinked and peered at him over her shoulder. He was frowning, seemingly at himself. Then she laughed very softly.

"You don't need to worry. I'm fine. Just a bad dream, that's all."

"Yes, and continue." He watched her expectantly. She sighed and looked at the floor, which she always did when she felt uncomfortable.

"No. Sorry, I don't want to." She said after a moment, and pushed him away before heading to the bathroom and closing the door sharply behind her. She leaned against the wood, resting her head back and staring sightlessly at the ceiling. She didn't want to talk about her sister tonight. Not when the past felt so close.

Fenris blinked, gawking at the bathroom door and felt a pang of something not dissimilar to regret. He frowned to himself and turned away. What was it to him if she didn't want to talk? It wasn't like he cared for her emotions. He was just concerned with her ability to focus on the task at hand. If their guide was incapable of helping them, he would step in and eliminate the problem.

Still, it slighted him that she didn't trust him.

He picked his way over the dwarf's snoring form and padded silently to the great window which took up most of the sitting room's wall. Through it he stared at the shaded towers of Rapture. The husky blue light from the ocean around them interested him. His sharp eyes picked over the red and yellow neon sign glowing eerily in the distance. He struggled for a moment to read it, remembering Hawke's lessons.

F-I-N-L-E-Y. Finley? What did that mean?

He suddenly jerked away from the window in shock and horror as a momentous creature loomed past the glass. One great dark eye beheld him for a moment before the creature passed serenely on, a huge grey bulk blocking the entire window until the only light in the room came from the gloomy lamp in Marilyn's bedroom. Fenris was struck between amazement and awe. He watched as the creature's massive tail swept past and then pressed his cheek against the cool glass to watch it on its way.

Of all the curious things in Rapture, this was the most curious he had seen since they had arrived.

"Whales don't often pass through Rapture." Said a soft voice from behind him. For a moment his heart leapt in shock and he twisted around to see Marilyn. She was watching him gently, smiling slightly. He stared at her dumbly as she padded to his side and surveyed the city below.

"They're quite shy, and uncommon. You were lucky to see one." She continued. Silence enveloped them for a moment. He felt himself standing awkwardly in her presence. She was so small in comparison to him – the top of her blonde head just levelled with his shoulder.

"So, will we be going out again?" He asked and she peered up at him seriously. It was a moment before she flashed him a grin. He couldn't help notice the grin didn't quite reach her deep amber eyes.

"Yeah. Just you and me today, Fen-Fen." She chucked very lightly and looked away as he scowled, outraged.

"'Fen-Fen'?!" He exclaimed, furious. "What is this profanity you bestow upon me? I am not some gilded pet to be–"

It was her laughter that stopped him mid rant. She was laughing softly, but without any hint of malicious mockery. It was... alien to him. Of course, Hawke and he had shared laughs before. And occasionally Varric provided amusement when the ale ran like water between them. But Marilyn's laugh sent a shiver down his spine. It was pleasant to listen to, and put him in mind of fair places, rather than the grime in Rapture. A laugh like that didn't belong in a dark place.

"Dear Lord, Fenris, it was a joke." She snorted. "Just a stupid joke; there was no need for you to freak out."

The way she shook her head made him regret his anger. This surprised him. He'd never regretted being angry in his life, except maybe with Hawke.

The words fell from his lips before he could master himself. "I... apologise." He left a polite pause and when she didn't reply, he continued. "Why did you call me such?"

She shrugged. "I thought it would be funny." His eyebrow rose at this, but he allowed it to pass. "Anyway, today we go foraging. Just the two of us – you're the only one I really trust here, other than Varric. So, y'know..."

He blinked. She trusted him? He fell into meddled confusion for a moment. Hawke was a better warrior than him, and she was their leader and friend. How could Marilyn not...

Oh. His eyes darted to the slumbering abomination. Crystalline understanding sharpened his brow as he frowned.

"You don't trust Hawke because of the... the mage?"

"Yes. I don't trust people who blow up buildings filled with the people of faith. I might not be overly religious, but somehow that idea doesn't sit well with me."

"We are of the same mind."

She smiled up at him and he found himself smiling back automatically. Then she cast her gaze over his armour. He looked down at himself, wondering what was wrong.

"We need to get some comfortable clothes for all of you here. You can't keep sleeping in your armour, plus you're all starting to smell a little." She wrinkled her nose slightly. "The Splicers will fuck you over if they can smell you. So you've got to be careful."

"Indeed?"

She smiled warmly up at him for a moment before padding towards the hatch and crouching down. He swallowed slightly, eyeing her behind as she crawled forwards and out of sight. He hesitated, and then decided to follow her.

He was about to crawl through the hatch when he heard Hawke call his name. He glanced back, peering at her face which was concerned.

"What is it?" He asked, his voice sharp and irritated as usual.

"Be careful with that woman. I don't want you getting hurt."

He scowled and headed out, getting to his feet as the hatch closed and clicked behind him. He peered at Marilyn, who was inspecting the peculiar beasts that guarded her home.

"What are those beasts?" He asked as they ticked menacingly, turning their long snouts to him. He didn't bother tensing. They wouldn't attack him. "I hear them roaring in the night sometimes." He reached out and patted the nearest one, the one she called Igor, on the nose. The metallic carapace did not yield to his touch.

"They're not beasts." She grunted as she tightened something under the creature's belly with what she called a wrench. There was silence for a moment before she shuffled back out into the open. "They're turrets. Machines that shoot splicers that come into this room."

"I do not understand. They are made of metal, like some golems, but they do not move but for their snouts."

"Well... they're just machines. They're just parts office chairs with guns fixed onto them." She peered at him. "They do their job well enough. Come, we have a lot of work to do today."

With that she turned and padded away. He followed quickly, glancing back at the machines. They ticked softly, barrel muzzles at the ready.

She led the way through the darkness of Rapture, her gun drawn and at her side. Each breath was carefully calculated, and so was each step. The one thing he found odd about Rapture was the way the sound was distorted. Every so often he would hear the ominous creak of the bulkheads, and the tap tap of water dripping on a wooden floor. It gave him chills. However, he would rather die than show his emotions.

He watched as she ducked into a room silently. He followed her, humming softly as his hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword. He was tensing up, preparing for combat. Anything could be lurking behind the sofa or chairs.

"Ah... here we go." Marilyn murmured as she picked her way towards a closet. "What does your Hawke like to wear?"

"Trousers." He hissed in reply, keeping a sharp ear out.

"How big are your feet?"

"Pardon?" he threw her a look. She was crouched on the ground beside the closet, holding a pair of tight looking black shoes. He narrowed his eyes and said with pride. "Elves don't wear shoes."

"Elves don't want seven inch nails shoved into their feet. Wear the shoes." She stuffed them into her backpack before gathering the rest of the clothes and putting them in as well. She got to her feet slowly before continuing out the room and into another corridor. He followed, frowning slightly. Marilyn was rather... strange. But he liked her. He definitely liked her.

"Oh fuck."

Marilyn had paused in the entrance to another room and had flattened herself against the wall, her eyes closed and her breathing shallow. He tensed, watching her carefully. She peered at him after a moment, pressing a finger against her lips before tugging at her earlobe. Listen.

He listened with all his might. Distantly, he heard soft rustlings. Splicers. Over twenty of them. In one small room. His eyes widened as he stared at Marilyn. She looked terrified.

The rustlings stopped and silence fell over them both. She hesitated before raising three fingers. On the count of three they were going to enter the room and attack. He nodded, drawing his sword with a soft hiss of metal on metal.

One finger went down.

The rustling had started up again.

The second finger followed the first.

Fenris tensed, clenching his sword hard. There was a hesitation on Marilyn's part. Fenris knew what she was thinking. Was this worth it? He nodded his head. They needed food desperately.

The third finger ended all thoughts of retreat.

With a roar Fenris charged into the room, swinging his sword and beheading several splicers who were too slow to react to him. His lyrium flared to life, and he buried his hand deep into the chest of a woman with a face made of clay. He tugged once, twice, three times before ripping her still beating heart through her ribs. He heard the roar of a gun and saw Marilyn slaying another splicer.

By this time the other splicers had realised what was going on. With a collective shriek they fell in upon them. Fenris slashed and hacked and dodged and jumped for his life. Several times he almost lost his footing as blood pooled around him. His breath came hard and fast, bursting out of his chest as he twisted, burying his blade deep into a splicer with a face mask. The moment froze as the mask fell away and revealed the horror beneath. He pulled away in disgust, killing the monster with a harsh kick with is leg. It fell back only to be replaced by another.

Distantly, he was aware of Marilyn fighting at his back. Together, they moved as one, dancing in the heat of battle. Had he not been so preoccupied with the sheer volume of enemies he might have called it beautiful in a sick sort of way.

Marilyn, on the other hand, was roaring various profanities. Her tongue moved as fast as her trigger. Every few seconds an explosion deafened him to her voice.

He discovered from this that she was battle crazy. Eventually, when the last splicer had fallen, she sprinted forward, bellowing a taunt as the survivors scurried away. She would have continued after them had he not grabbed her shoulder.

"Enough."

She whirled to him, panting hard and fast, her eyes wide and excited. Then she grabbed the front of his armour and yanked him down, pausing before kissing him hard.

Fenris tensed, shocked. No one had ever kissed him before. No one had ever dared. Yet...

The sword in his hand clattered to the floor as he placed his hands on her waist, pulling her close to him. Her arms wound around his neck, her lips moving with his with a desperation he had never experienced. She was alive and hot to the touch. His fingers found bare flesh as her shirt rode up. She was standing on tip toe to reach him.

After a few seconds she murmured heatedly against his mouth. "I need you, Fenris."

Panting hard, Fenris pushed her away. "I can't."

She stared up at him, her eyes filled with hope and longing. "Please, Fenris. I have never had a man."

He paused at this. He found he was a little too pleased about her innocence. But... he couldn't. She was of a different world. A different time. He was... not right for her.

"I can't, Marilyn. I'm sorry."

She placed a hand over his heart. It was thrashing hard against his ribs. For her, he realised a little too late. "Fenris, you can do whatever you want." She leaned up and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek before taking a couple steps back. The heat had faded from her.

Silence fell between them.

"C'mon." She murmured. "We've got food to get."

With that she padded away.