Author's Note: I've got about 5000 words right now. Trying out posting this as shorter chapters instead of all in one go. Switching POV from Fenris to Hawke in each chapter.

He knew she was there the moment she crossed the threshold of the dilapidated mansion he claimed for his own. His tattoos itched at her approach, as though electricity was building before a storm. He reflected that this might be an apt analogy for what was about to happen.

It was too late to back out now, he thought. He'd almost hoped she might not come, that she might hate him enough that she would ignore his request. They had seen precious little of each other in the past three years. They hadn't spoken at all since. . . he jerked his thoughts away from that night. It didn't matter. He'd sent the request, and she had come. Now he just had to see this through.

She knocked politely on the study door, assuming that he would be there.

"Hawke," He called, keeping his voice steady.

The door opened and Leandra Hawke entered the small, dark room. She'd never liked to be called by her first name. Even less now that her mother—her namesake—had died in an unspeakable manner.

"You called?" she said flatly, an eyebrow arching.

"I—I have no right to ask this of you," Fenris stammered. He clenched his fists, and paced back and forth before his fire place, afraid to look her in the face. "I know that, but," he took a deep breath, "I need your help." There, he'd said it.

He'd almost hoped she wouldn't come. He didn't know where the two of them stood. After he'd left her three years ago, well, they had been friendly. She'd never been anything but friendly. But they hadn't been alone together since that night. She rarely requested his help on missions. And she never stopped by to see him anymore.

He turned his back to her, resting his hands on the mantle piece and waiting. She had no reason to be kind to him, and ample reason to use this as an opportunity for retaliation after what he had done. If she intended to do so, coward that he was, he couldn't face her as she rejected his plea.

The silence in the room stretched out, until he thought she hadn't heard him. "My help?" she finally asked softly. "We aren't exactly friends, Fenris." She didn't say it with any venom or loathing. Only stated it flatly, as a matter of fact.

"I know," he turned to face her, relieved that she hadn't shut him out . . .yet. She sat in a chair near the fire, her staff resting across her knees. One hand encircled the staff, and her chin was propped on the other. A slight frown creased her brow, but otherwise her face was carefully neutral. "But my sister has been found."

"Really?" She lifted her head, looking startled. "So Hadriana wasn't lying?" she mused softly. She studied him for a moment, and he felt himself growing hot under that gaze, remembering all too well the last time she had studied him so intensely. "You think its a trap," she said. It wasn't a question.

He nodded.

"Okay," she responded quietly.

"You're wondering why I've asked you," He rushed on, cutting her off before she could say anything else. He began pacing again, finding it difficult to meet her gaze. "You're wondering why I do not ask Anso to hire someone to help me like I did before? I know that you owe me nothing and I have no right to ask anything of you. But I cannot do this without you, Hawke. The last time Danarius found me, he commanded me to kill my protectors, and I did it. I cannot trust myself, and I find I have few allies to turn to."

He found her smirking slightly. "Actually, I was wondering when we are going? Now?"

The relief that flooded through him was intense, and it was only then that he realized how much he had been dreading asking her. "Thank you," he whispered, sinking into the chair opposite hers.

She shrugged, "No need to thank me. Killing people and helping people is what I do," she quipped lightly, but her smile looked more like a grimace.