This is it, the last chapter! Thanks so much for sticking with me through all of this. I'm sorry it took me so long! If you like this Hawke and Fenris, then check out my prequel story "For A Little While" for some sexy times with these two.

It was with trepidation that Hawke headed to Fenris's dilapidated mansion the next morning. She found him, as usual, pacing by the fire. She guessed he knew she was there, for he glared at her sharply as she entered the room, but didn't break his angry stride.

"Festis bei umo canavarum," he muttered darkly.

Hawke leaned against the door frame, suddenly feeling very tired, the slight hang-over from last night's revelries souring her mood even more. Andraste's ass, can this damned elf never be happy? "Let me guess," she replied tartly, "you're upset. Again."

"It means 'you will be the death of me.'"

"I already have been. Twice now. We really have to stop going into the Fade together. It always ends the same way. Me killing you. You angry at me."

"This is not a joke, Hawke."

"It never is, with you, is it?" She was getting angry. She could feel it. And she knew it wouldn't help. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm her anger. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she sent a tiny tendril of healing magic up into the space between her eyes trying to relieve the headache. "You said you wanted to talk about unsettled business," she said, seeing no point in beating around the bush.

"I need to explain myself."

She lowered her hand, giving him her full attention. The headache was less now, as was the anger. "Okay. I'm listening." She entered the room, coming to stand before him, forcing him to stop his relentless pacing. There were two chairs drawn up by the fire, but neither of them sat down.

He refused to meet her gaze, but after a moment, he began to speak. "Six years ago I decided to stay with you because I owed you a debt. But I also thought you could help me. And you did. Hadriana is dead. Danarius is dead. I am finally free." He sounded as though this was an unwanted outcome.

"Am I meant to apologize for that? Should I have let Danarius take you? Maybe I could have sold you to him?" she replied, her anger rising again. Maker's Cock but his moods are hard to understand.

"No!" His eyes widened in surprise, finally meeting hers. "I—I. . .Nothing feels like it should," he ran his hands through his hair, and sat down heavily in one of the chairs. "This freedom tastes like ashes. What do I do now, Hawke?"

"Why ask me?"

"I am free, Hawke. Free to come and go as I please. Should I go? Would you prefer if I were no longer in Kirkwall?"

"What?" she stuttered, failing to make the connection that seemed to be so obvious to him. "Why ask me?" she said again, "I don't think my preferences should matter. It's a free city, and you are a free man."

"Hawke." He made her name sound like an accusation. Like she was dodging the issue. "We've never spoken about what happened between us four years ago. . ." it didn't sound like a question, but he left the sentence hanging there, his eyes searching her face.

"Oh," her heart gave a lurch, part anticipation, part pain. Unable to stop her legs from crumbling beneath her, she sat heavily into the chair opposite him. "You never wanted to," she said softly.

"And you always do what I want?"

"Rarely," she smiled. "But in this matter, yes."

"Why?"

"Because. . ." wasn't it obvious? One look into his face told her that it wasn't. "Because it was what you needed. Fenris, I don't know much about the life of a slave in Tevinter, but I know that you have been mistreated, badly. And I know that the people who did that were like me—"

"No,"

"They were like me," she plunged on. "Mages, like me. You had every reason to hate me. I've always known that. I'm not stupid."

"Hawke, they were nothing like you."

"Of course they were. They were mages."

"You would never. . ."

"I might," she countered, ruthlessly. After the Fade, there seemed little point in deception. "We both know I might. Any mage might become the kind of tormentors you faced. And any mage might become an abomination. I can't change that. And," she took a deep breath, clenching her fists together, to hold her trembling hands still. But she would speak the truth, even if it cost her his friendship. "And I wouldn't want to, even if I could. Even if I could remove the threat of corruption, I wouldn't. To do so would be to lose a part of myself. I'm a mage, Fenris. It's who and what I am. It's a gift from my. . ." her throat closed over the next word for a moment, the pain still too raw, "father. A gift I shared with my sister. To me, magic is family. Magic is life, and fun, and snowball fights in July, and the power to protect the people I love. But I'm not a fool. I know what else it can be. I know what else I am capable of being. And all those dark sides of magic have touched you. I know that too. So," she shrugged, "you didn't want to talk about it. About us. So, we didn't."

He stared at her, startled. "I thought you would take me for a coward. That you would hate me."

"For a while I did hate you," she shrugged. "When you ran, I though it confirmed all my deepest fears about myself. That I was tainted. Spoiled. I thought maybe you were right—"

"No," Fenris shot out of the chair, alarm written all over his face. He was kneeling at her side in a moment, her hands in his own. "Magic has not spoiled you. It is unforgivable that I gave you cause to think that."

Hawke smiled ruefully, "that was the response I wanted four years ago." She gently untangled his fingers from hers, folding her hands in her lap. "But you spoke the truth in the fade, Fenris. You can't love me the way I love you," she saw his eyes widen, and smiled in spite of herself. "I do, oddly enough. Even when you made me feel like an abomination. Must be my stubborn nature."

He didn't respond, but he smiled ruefully before his face crumpled, like discarded parchment, revealing powerful emotions that she didn't know how to untangle.

"It's up to you," she said, gently, resting a hand on his forearm, "stay, or don't. You don't owe me anything, Fenris." And she was mildly surprised to find that this was so. It hurt to say it, but it was the truth. And it was a clean hurt. A healing hurt. Maybe the love would never go away, and maybe that was alright. But the longing was gone. She could let him choose this. She was strong enough for this.

Fenris stared at his hands, "I did not intend for you to ever view yourself as tainted or worthless," he said slowly, "for that, I apologize."

"Thank you," Hawke said, an old ache in her heart easing at his words. She didn't fear that she was tainted anymore. Even now, with the untapped power of her blood newly awakened, she felt confident that she could walk the line between mage and abomination. She'd faced down her darkest desires and survived. And she had a new family to help her hold onto herself. But hearing his words mattered, even so.

Fenris took a deep breath, as he did when stealing himself for battle, and looked her in the face. He still knelt before her, his face mere few inches away from her own. His voice was low, and soft, as though it took a great effort to force these words out. "I do not know how to love a mage," he said and Hawke nodded in sympathy, opening her mouth to tell him that it was okay. That she didn't expect him to love her. He held up his hand, forestalling her, and continued in a rush, "but nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you."

He spoke in a rush, feeling an overwhelming sense of trepidation at the bearing of his own heart. It was hard to speak the truth to Hawke. But she had given him truth, and he would do the same. He had been a coward before. But no more. A free man does not shy from the truth. So he held up his hand, forestalling her words, and spoke the truth, freely, because he could. Because he wanted to. And because she deserved no less. "Nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you."

"Oh," Hawke breathed quietly. Her eyebrows turned up in confusion, and a faint blush coloured her cheeks.

"I—I would stay by your side. If you would have me," he saw her brow furrow and rushed to add "as a friend, if you wish," though it was not friendship he wanted. Still, he would make no false promises to her. He was unsure if he could meet his heart's wild demand. If he could learn to love a mage.

"No, not a friend," Hawke said. His heart guttered in his chest, but he nodded. Of course she would not accept him. He had hurt her too deeply. It was as he had always feared. What right had he to hope or expect kindness from her?

She reached out and touched his arm lightly. "Family. You can stay if you like. But then you'd be family."

"Family?"

"Yes," she smiled. "I don't have much anymore. And neither do you. If you stay, I'd like you to be my family."

"I—that would be more than I deserve after the pain my actions have caused," he said, feeling the weight of his past sins pressing down on his chest.

"Oh, I don't know," Hawke said lightly, "Carver was a bigger pain in my ass. And don't even get me started on my mother!" There was a haunted look about her eyes, but she was laughing too. Remembering the people she loved.

He smiled, in spite of himself, feeling a weight of guilt lift off his heart. "Then I suppose I'll fit right in."

"Yes," Hawke said softly, pulling him into a gentle embrace, "I think you will."

The embrace was light, with no heat of desire and no demands of more. But Fenris accepted it. It was enough. More than enough. Her embrace, and her words offered him something he had never had before; acceptance.

For the first time in his life, he could listen to his own heart. And maybe, in time, he would be able to to love as fully as his heart demanded. But even if he could not, he would be Hawke's family. Accepted, as he was. He breathed deeply, allowing his own arms to encircle her waist, and feeling the familiar tingle of her magic against his lyrium. She was a mage. But she was also Hawke. And she was his family. His home.

He had never known such a thing was possible. To belong somewhere while still being free. It was not what his heart demanded, but it soothed the jagged edges of his soul. For now, it was enough.

For now, he was content.