"I understand if you have to kill me."

Was he trying to rip her heart to shreds? Hawke sometimes wondered if Kirkwall and back-stabbing always went together, especially after Isabella's Qunari mess. Anders's first time wielding the knife was when he told her there was a way to remove Justice. It wasn't the false hope that killed her then, but the fact he didn't even trust her. It seemed to be a recurring theme for the couple now that the Chantry was gone.

"Hawke, we need to move," Varric urged. She couldn't stop staring at the man she used to love. No, loved still. A love that felt like he was cradling her heart one minute and stomping on it the next — either way, it belonged to Anders and Hawke couldn't do a thing about it.

Anders was on his knees before her. This wasn't right: him at her mercy, like a criminal. Well, he sort of was a criminal, but still. What was she supposed to do, bring down her swift, merciless blade upon him — like Meredith? She loved him, and couldn't bear the thought. Even after all he'd done, he was still Anders. Her impossible, irrational, brilliant Anders.

A smile tugged at the edge of Hawke's lips. "Get up, Anders. You're not dying today."

He furrowed his brow. "You...you want me to leave then? Never to return, banished forever?"

"Do you want to leave?" Dread started to build up in her. Maybe he didn't need her anymore...

"No," he said quickly. "I just didn't think—"

Varric stepped forward. "No Anders, you *didn't* think. Can we leave, Hawke? Kirkwall's kind of a war zone right now."

Goodness, not even a "Blondie" she thought. Varric must be upset. "A moment, Varric. Please." The dwarf backed off, grumbling something about emotional women.

Anders stood up straight; it was his turn to look down at Hawke. His eyes searched hers, looking for some semblance of disgust or rage. It would have been better than the bitter sting of disappoint he found. "I'm so sorry," he began...

"You're a fool," Hawke stated matter-of-factly. That took Anders by surprise, but he kept going.

"Yes, I know, and—"

"No, Anders. I mean you're a bloody fool. Just for one second, I'd love it if you listened to me. I help you with the not-really-a-potion bit, and it turns out you lied. Fine, but I was still there, wasn't I? Then this," she waved her arm at where the chantry used to be, "happens, hell breaks loose, and I think everyone can agree you very much had a hand in it." Hawke pointed at her companions, who all nodded vigorously. "But I — against what some call better judgement — do not execute you. And what's the first thing you say? 'Do. You. Want. Me. To. Leave.'." She brought her hand up to his cheek. "You honestly cannot take a hint, can you? You're stuck with me, you are," she teased, then lightly slapped his face. "Get used to it."

Anders was silent. The others looked around awkwardly, pretending like they weren't waiting for him to speak. "Love," he began, 'I don't know what to say..."

"Dammit, Blondie!" Varric blurted out. "We don't have time for this!"

Anders considered this, nodded, then pulled Hawke close and kissed her. Fenris groaned, but they didn't mind. Hawke wrapped her arms around Anders's neck, never wanting to let go lest she almost lose him again. When they separated, he leaned his forehead on hers and whispered:

"Thank you."