Fenris sat glaring into the smoldering coals of his fireplace. Despite the room's chill, he didn't bother to get up and stoke it. Hawke was supposed to have turned up for his reading lesson four hours ago, and yet he still sat waiting for her. She had never once missed their appointed time or even been late. The unwelcome thought passed through his head that perhaps she had finally tired of his presence, or more likely, his slow sounding out of words and his measured, shaky writing.

After pacing his rooms for a while, unable to fix upon a task, Fenris thought about staying away from the Hanged Man for Varric's usual card night. But that resolution lasted all of five minutes - he would go after all, and ask Hawke why she had not come. Before he left, he considered leaving the boots and cloak she had bought him, but the biting air outside melted his petulant stubbornness away.

But when Fenris arrived at the Hanged Man, Hawke was not there. Everyone looked up from their drinks when he reached the suite. "We thought she'd be with you, Broody," Varric remarked. "I haven't seen her all day."

"Nor have I," Merrill piped up. "She was supposed to visit me today and see what I'd been knitting, and she didn't come. That's not like her. Hawke always keeps her promises."

"She didn't come to… I have not seen her," Fenris admitted.

"Has anyone seen her?" Varric asked, looking around the table.

"Not since yesterday morning," Aveline said with a frown. The others concurred - none of them had seen Hawke for a day or more, and that in itself was unusual. After a few uneasy drinks, Aveline banged her fist on the table and stood up. "That's it, I'm going to the estate."

"Calm down, big girl," Isabela said, tipping her chair back and lacing her hands behind her head. "So Hawke's taken a day off for herself. It's not exactly a cause for emergency."

"She's been missing all day and you're not worried at all?" Aveline snapped.

"Just because you haven't seen her doesn't mean she's missing."

"Well I'm going anyway," retorted Aveline. "You lot can stay here if you want."

Varric dealt out a few hands of cards, but none of the usual banter went around the table. They all looked up expectantly when Aveline came striding back into the suite less than an hour later. "Hawke's manservant hasn't seen her all day," she announced without preamble. "He's worried sick. Says some message came for her this morning and she went running out the door." She slapped a fist into her palm. "I don't like this. I think we should all look for her."

Varric frowned as he stood up. "I'll get in touch with my contacts, call in some favors. Rivaini, see what you can find down at the docks. Blondie, you get down to Darktown. Daisy, go to the Alienage and ask around. Broody, you check around the markets." He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I hope we're just all missing each other and this ends up being a wild goose chase."

Fenris barely waited to hear the end of Varric's sentence before he left the tavern. When he stepped outside ahead of the others, he cursed. Thick flakes of snow fell from the darkening sky, and the ground was rapidly being covered. The others filed silently past him, going their separate ways.

He trudged alone through the empty markets, his breath puffing in white clouds in front of him. Memories of what had happened to Leandra jumped through his mind over and over again. But that this was Hawke. She couldn't have been taken so easily. It had to be a misunderstanding. He searched for what felt like hours, but no clues turned up, and the few people out on the streets in this weather had not seen the Champion. As the sun went down, it got colder and the snow fell thicker until the drifts piled past his ankles. Despair clawed at him, but he fiercely pushed back at it again and again. I will find her.

The city had grown so quiet under its blanket of snow that Fenris almost didn't hear Varric come up behind him. "I've got a lead," he said grimly. "The others are on their way."

"Where?"

Varric hesitated for a second. "The warehouse district." Fenris's fists clenched and he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. Varric tried to put a comforting hand on his arm. "Listen, Broody, it doesn't mean - "

"Let's go," Fenris snarled, already striding away through the snow. He could not allow himself to hold still or to think - if he did, the fear would paralyze him.

By the time they reached the place Varric had indicated, Aveline and Merrill were already there. "This damned snow hides any clues we might find," Aveline exclaimed angrily.

"We don't need clues," Isabela said from around the corner, coming into view swathed in an enormous scarf and thick woolen pants. "I had to crack a few heads to get them to admit it, but some louts from the docks said they heard shouts and scuffling in that building there."

"How long ago?" demanded Fenris.

"Earlier this afternoon. Didn't have time to get more specific."

"Look, look!" Merrill wailed, pointing in horror at one of the walls, where a red smear marred the stone. She knelt down and cleared the snow at the base of the wall, where there was more blood frozen to the ground. No one bothered to hope that it might belong to anyone. The trail led straight to a small wooden door a few feet away.

Aveline kicked the door in, and inside stood a large group of Dog Lords, many of them sporting fresh injuries. Their leader shouted a warning, but he was quickly cut down by Fenris's blade. He moved like a ghost, not allowing himself to feel anything as he cut through the gang's ranks. He heard nothing, not the clash of Aveline's shield, not Merrill moving the very earth, not the clatter of crossbow bolts or the ring of daggers clashing against each other. All he heard was his own overly loud heartbeat, saying where is she, where is she, where is she.

The battle was over quickly, and Aveline grabbed the one man left alive by his shirt front. "Whose blood is that outside?" she demanded.

The man blubbered, begging for his life, and Varric casually hefted Bianca towards him. "I'd tell her the whole story." He kept his voice even, but his finger twitched on the trigger.

"Oh come on already." Isabela stepped behind the man, twisted his arm behind him, and started bending his fingers backwards. "We don't have time to be soft."

"All right!" he screamed. "It's the Champion's! We took her, Cor said we had to make an example - aarrghh!" Fenris was at his side quicker than thought, shoving Aveline aside and hoisting the man in the air.

"Where is she?" he asked in a soft, deadly voice. His lyrium marks flared until they lit the whole room.

"She got away," the man sobbed, clawing at Fenris's hands. "She fought like a demon, we couldn't hold her -"

"Liar!"

"It's true, I swear! I don't know where she is now!" Blood bubbled suddenly out of his mouth when Fenris squeezed his heart right out of his chest. He was dead before he hit the ground.

"Fan out," Aveline said after a short silence. "Hawke could still be in here somewhere."

"Here!" Isabela shouted from the corner. "These are her gloves!"

"And her daggers," added Merrill, sounding as though she would burst into tears. "Oh, Mythal, there's blood all over here."

They found a small side door around the corner with more blood smeared on the handle, this time fresh. They pushed it open and found faint footprints in the snow. "These footprints are only partially covered. If this is her, she can't have gotten far," Aveline called. Fenris pushed ahead, his heartbeat slamming painfully through his chest. The snow fell thicker than ever, making it hard to see more than a few feet ahead.

Suddenly he put his boot into something wet, something separate from the snow around it. He lifted his foot and it came up dripping red. His eyes followed the puddle's trail in slow motion, where it dragged itself around an old pile of crates. Hawke.

She was lying face down with her body partially buried in the snow. Fenris slid to his knees next to her, suddenly unable to breath. He turned her over and cradled her head, desperate to see some sign of life, but her lips had gone a dull blue and she was so still. Blood still oozed out of a jagged slash across her chest, and bruises trailed up her throat and onto her face.

Hawke coughed weakly when he pulled her close to his chest. "Here!" Fenris shouted over his shoulder. "She's here!" The others were there in an instant, crowding around them in dismay. He heard their voices as if from far away, questioning and ordering, but everything in his world was centered around Hawke.

Fenris undid the clasp of his fur-lined cloak with one hand, and wrapped it around Hawke's body before picking her up and setting off towards Hightown. Halfway to the estate, her eyes fluttered open briefly and he felt her body go stiff with fear.

"Hawke -" he said quietly. When she didn't relax, he bent his head closer to hers and whispered, "Kyra. I am here."

"Knew you'd come," she breathed. Her eyes closed and her whole body sagged in his arms. Fenris felt her words as a jolt to the heart. Part of him wanted to shake her and demand to know why she had such faith in him, but he simply tightened his grip on her and increased his pace.

When they finally reached the estate, Anders was waiting with Isabela, who'd broken off from the group to fetch him from Darktown. Hawke had worsened - she'd opened her eyes a few more times on the way, but didn't seem to know where she was, and she shivered violently no matter how tightly Fenris wrapped his cloak around her. Anders took over with grim efficiency, instructing Orana get Hawke out of her wet clothes and dressed in fresh ones

When Fenris laid Hawke on her bed, Anders instructed all of them to leave the room. Fenris didn't realize that his tattoos were glowing until he saw Orana's frightened face, frozen in the act of cutting away Hawke's shirt with a pair of scissors. Isabela suddenly blocked his view with a hard look on her face.

"You're not helping her by staying," she told him in a low voice. "Let Anders work."

Fenris paced back and forth in the main foyer, watched nervously by Merrill. Isabela stared into the fire in the study, and Varric sat next to her. Aveline had left with her guards to investigate the gang's lair. Hours passed, and there was no sound or sign of life from Hawke's room. Anders and Orana finally came out near midnight, both of them completely exhausted.

"She'll be all right," was all that Anders said before he flopped down on the couch with one arm over his eyes. "It was close, but she's going to live." Fenris didn't stay to hear more but ran to take the stairs two at a time.

The bedroom smelled of elfroot and the cool tang of healing magic, and the fire had been stoked to send blazing warmth through the room. Hawke lay sleeping under a pile of blankets on the bed, her dark hair spread across the pillow. She stirred and opened her eyes when Fenris closed the door.

"Hello," she said weakly. "I suppose I kicked up a lot of fuss, didn't I?"

Fenris did not trust himself to speak. Instead he crossed the room and sat in the chair by the bed, toying with the red scarf around his wrist.

"Maker, I acted like a blighted damsel in distress," she went on, not quite meeting his eyes. "It was probably a lot less dramatic than it looked, though. Anders has me all patched up and I'm going to be fine after some rest, no need to worry."

"Stop," Fenris snarled, clamping down on the scarf tightly enough to rip it. "You were bleeding your life out and you nearly froze to death and yet you tell me not to worry!"

Hawke winced and closed her eyes. "What else can I say, Fenris? I'm alive. I did something stupid, I suppose, but I lived."

"I should have been there!" he burst out, flinging the scarf to the floor and standing up to pace the room angrily.

"I can take care of myself," she retorted. "I didn't have time to go get any of you, and I could hardly have known the whole thing was a trap!" The effect of her glare was rather spoiled by the fact that she could barely lift her head from the pillow.

"That is not my point," he said in a quieter voice. He sat down again and gently drew her hand out from under the covers. Her skin was usually so warm, but her fingers were still cold. Fenris remembered another night, one where her skin was cool from soaking spring rain. He remembered the way that he had not said the things he should have said that night. He would not be making that same mistake again.

He put her hand in between both of his palms and rubbed it gently, trying to bring the warmth back. "It took you getting kidnapped for me to realize what a fool I've been. The time that I have been wasting." He bowed his head and tightened his grip on her hand. "We have never spoken of that night… three years ago, where we…."

"Fenris," Hawke said quietly. She pressed a soft kiss to his hand. "We've both made mistakes. Let's not dwell on them."

"I need to ask your forgiveness," he insisted. "I should never have left you. If I could go back -

"You can't go back," Hawke interrupted, pushing herself up with a grimace. "But we could go forward. If that's what you want." She glanced downward nervously, but curled her fingers around his more tightly.

"If there is a future to be had, I would be glad to walk it by your side. No matter what." At that, Hawke's eyes snapped up again, and her smile returned, creeping over her face as slow and brilliant as a sunrise. Fenris felt any hint of cowardice inside of him melt away at the sight of it, and leaned forward to kiss her.

Their kisses three years ago had been all fire and rough desperation, consuming both of them and leaving cold in their wake. This time, though, their lips moved together with an unspeakable tenderness and need that left both of them trembling. And when Hawke cupped Fenris's cheek, deepening the kiss, he realized that her skin was finally warm.