Unresolved Tangles (Through a Glass Darkly 4)

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Within a few weeks of Hawke's party, his schedule changed. On Tuesdays, he would neaten himself and walk up to Hightown and Hawk's estate to organize her books, even as some more rare tomes were unearthed in hidden corners. Most weeks she spent part of the time with him, talking about the library and events around Kirkwall.

He missed one week entirely after a large accident at the Foundry, and he ended up sending beggars to call everyone he knew who had steady hands and weren't squeamish. That meant he called Hawke and Hawke called the others, though Aveline was already there with a swarm of guards. Every other week, he climbed those stairs, eagerly anticipating his visit.

Slowly over the months as Hawke and Leandra settled in, the closed off areas were emptied. Then workers were brought in by the enthused Bodahn and repairs and improvements started. It would take months, with Leandra trying to restore much of how she remembered it.

That meant some days it was so loud indoors, he found Hawke up on the quiet and private roof garden. The planters held their bright flowers which had already multiplied. Hawke was close to the edge as she looked out over the city, or toward the tiny ships leaving port. Despite whatever Justice wanted, he didn't want her to leave Kirkwall.

He felt a pang as it hit him deeply. She could go, back to Ferelden or even cosmopolitan places like Antiva or Orlais now. She was rich enough with name, estate, and even investments. He lifted a hand, wanting to say something, anything against that fear, but let his hand fall even as she began to turn.

The bright sun on her hair and strong breezes ruffled her hair this high over the city... this was how he wanted her life, unfettered by a fugitive abomination.

He lived in the shadows of the Circle, of the Taint, and in Darktown. It was too late for him.

Hawke's smile was bright. “I see you noticed the... enthusiastic construction downstairs. I'm not sure we could get much done down there today.”

His forced smile got real. “It's not a bad thing to get sunshine and fresh air too. I get too many with lung problems as it is.”

“Should I get checked after visiting the Foundry? Maybe my lungs got filled with that crap, it almost hurt to breathe for a while.” Her voice got a bit huskier as she glided closer.

“Hawke, don't.” He was now the one who couldn't breathe.

Hawke looked up, close but not touching him. She looked annoyed. “What? Lung-crap of metal dusts isn't the stuff of seduction. It's not like I'm going to throw you down and rip your clothes off up here.”

Maker, yes!

Frivolous distractions. You are not plumbing the knowledge of a useful library today.

Leave my daydreams be!

He closed his eyes, but that didn't help as his imagination painted a different kind of plumbing among the scents of hyacinth and tulips.

So he opened his eyes and took a couple of breaths. “Sorry.” He decided to leave it there because he wanted nothing more than for her to do that right now.

“Can you check, please? My cough is lasting a bit too long...”

He placed a hand on her shoulder, his healing a little more effective if closer. There was a problem in the lower part of her lungs. It had partly healed on its own already, but she took deeper breaths as he worked.

The deepest part of her lungs had globs of metal dust, making combat more risky until it might slowly heal. Unconsciously, his hand shifted a little.

Not there! Or there! Or... This is to heal one of your allies, not to indulge carnally!

His argument had to be cogent. You know it won't work as well.

The spirit didn't object to him hesitantly placing his other hand on her other shoulder, and he swept his arms around her, his hands on the back side of her rib cage, making an embrace.

Displeased at Hawke being a warm presence pulled closer against him, Justice held the rest of him stiff and awkward as he healed Hawke.

Hawke understood better than Justice and didn't move, aside from laying her cheek against his chest, and he felt better.

“Do not provoke this kind of injury again!” Justice grated at her.

Hawke stiffened. “Anders called me for help. Would it be fair to let them die when there are people he can trust to help?”

He pulled her closer for a brief embrace when he was done healing. “No. I should get back if we can't work today.”

“I'm sorry I irritated him.”

He shrugged, he'd lost count of that long ago. He just enjoyed holding her, even like this with his imagination running wild. He dared the briefest of kisses of her hair and stepped back out of range. “I'll see you next week, unless Varric has another game I can lose at.”

She smiled and gave a small salute.

He hurried off, visions of what he wanted to do crowding in. Only Justice's determination to get back to the clinic prevented him from rushing back and begging.

When he reached his clinic, it wasn't long until he normally closed and only one of his assistants remained. It had been a quiet day, and Justice subsided as he sent the refugee home with most of his remaining coins. He swept up and locked up, his mind still racing.

Once undressed and on his cot, his mind flew back up to the sunlit and open place again. He indulged every his every wish safe within his imagination until even the Warden stamina was worn out, and the sounds outside said he'd had yet another sleepless night.

He couldn't regret it, he could regret that it wasn't real.

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A/N: Prompt words that helped this story are rare, beggar, and cogency. Thanks to my beta reader who has been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.