He softly shut the door to Siob- Hawke's bedroom door. He would not punctuate this moment with any more dramatics. He hesitated outside of her room for a moment, breathing deeply and debating with himself about his course of action. The Fenris-who-was arguing with the Fenris-who-is; a slave has no place here-but he is no slave, never again. He heard a muffled noise come from within the bedroom behind him. He momentarily panicked, half-expecting Siob- Hawke (dammit) to open the door, somehow knowing he was without. It became almost instantly obvious that was not the case. A second noise, slightly louder, sounded in his ears. It took him a moment to place it. A hitched breath, a sigh? No, he realized as yet another noise sounded, it was a sob. Shocked, motionless, he tried, and failed, to understand the now undeniable, horrible noise of Si- of Hawke's (he didn't deserve to use her given name any more) tears. Slowly, he made his way down the stairs, no longer looking back. That noise, that terrible noise, echoed in his mind. There was no thought of staying-not anymore. It was appallingly obvious to him now that he couldn't have- didn't deserve beautiful things; he only broke them.

He didn't know what to think, standing outside that all-too-familiar bedroom door. He had witnessed (and taken part in) some terrible, gruesome, evil things in the Imperium, but never had he seen something like this.

He had never had much cause to know Hawke's mother, but in every encounter he had had with her, she had always treated him kindly (and with a respect he wasn't sure he deserved). Now, here he was, standing outside Hawke's bedroom while Leandra's mutilated corpse was being retrieved by the city guard, cursing himself and his cowardice. What was he thinking? He had left her, had likely chased her right into the waiting arms of another. Why would she want to see him? He breathed deeply. He could not live with himself if he didn't, at least, try. Hake had looked so horribly broken, so empty (eyes dead like a tranquil; not this mage, not her. Too good, she was far too good). He would offer himself, pitiful comfort he was, and-well, the rest was up to her.

"I do not know what to say, but...I am here."

Hawke turned her head to look at him, eyes red and tears streaming.

She choked out his name, looking at him in disbelief. He held her gaze, awaiting her inevitable rebuke. He had tried, he told himself. That was all he could do.

"Fenris," she whimpered, holding out her arms for him. He slowly went to her and allowed her to pull him to her. She buried her head against his chest, soaking the leather jerkin with her tears. He brought his arms up around her, holding her tentatively as she sobbed.

Some distant part of him wondered if either Varric or Isabela would be able to bet this scene right. Probably not- Varric erred towards the romantic, Isabela to the sexual. This reunion had been neither-equal parts joyous, passionate, and awkward. Now, he lay panting with Ha- Siobhan curled up against him (and so happy, so much happier than he ever expected). Siobhan shifted beside him, curling her body tighter around his and tucking her head into the crook of his neck. He breathed easy, contented and peaceful in a way never before felt. Until he felt the dampness against his neck.

He shifted, trying to see Siobhan's face, but she only clung tighter to him. Of course, there were tears; what had he expected? Siobhan was far too good, too kind, and he had broken that long ago. Was it fear that caused her tears, doubt of his vow? Or had she finally seen it too? Had she realized how hopeless it was to be with someone like him?

"Siobhan?" he whispered, knowing that something terrible was coming.

"I'm sorry," came the muffled response, her breath tickling his neck. Finally managing to extract her face from its refuge, he looked with concern at the tears running down her cheeks.

She smiled at him, beautiful, even through tears. She brought her hand up to cup his cheek, drawing their foreheads together. Cautiously, he raised a hand to copy her action, gently holding a damp cheek as fresh tears still leaked from damp eyes.

"Siobhan?" he whispered again.

"They're happy tears," she replied. His confusion must have shown, for in the next moment, she shifted, kissing him with intensity, with emotion that surprised him.

After a moment's hesitation, he responded in kind, trying to pour every terrifying, exhilarating feeling he had for her into this one kiss. Slowly, she withdrew, but only just. With her lips gently grazing his mouth, she whispered.

"They're good tears."

His chest swelled, and he drew her back to him.

Maybe he didn't deserve Siobhan, maybe he would only taint and destroy her; for now, that didn't matter, All that mattered was now, this moment, with her lips moving against his, their arms around each other, and her tears on his face.

A.N.: Ok, this is the third time I've tried to fix this freaking thing so that the dashes that signal the interruption of a word, name, etc., are two dashes long. refuses to accept my formatting, so screw it. I'm sorry for the crappy formatting, especially if the horizontal lines don't show up again, but is being a word that starts with a 't' and rhymes with 'squat' and I'm not uploading it anymore.