Plot: Follows the story of Hawke and Anders post DA2. Hawke is furious with Anders after his acts in Kirkwall, but how can you stay angry at a man that is so helplessly lost? Hawke pledges to find a way to save Anders from himself and separate him and Justice, but does Anders want to be saved?
Pairings (Subject to change as the story evolves): F!Hawke/Anders
Author's Notes: This story doesn't stay so angsty/fluffy. I just wanted to get the initial intro out of the way and get Anders and Hawke on the same page in the first chapter. The first several chapters are already written, so I hope you'll stick around. A quick note – in the long run, this story will shift a couple times unless I get swayed by reviewer's requests. If there's something that you would like to see added to the story, please say so in a review! I'll try to meet requests as I am able! =)
This story came to me not too terribly long ago. At this point in time, it is unbeta'd, so I apologize for any typos or misspellings. If there is anything that is out of place and you feel the need to let me know, just send it in a PM, please! Otherwise I look forward to reading your reviews.
"How could you do this to me?" her voice was quiet in the dying twilight. Over the hills she could still see the city burning, tiny dots of ash floating toward the heavens as if to beg for the Maker's mercy. Her vision was blurry as she looked down at the blonde man kneeling at her dripping side. She rested bonelessly against a log, weakened from the loss of blood and the long battle.
"I had no choice," he replied, his voice equally quiet and deep in concentration. His eyes narrowed and the blue magic dancing around his fingertips hitched. She could tell he was exhausted and was using the very last of his reserves to heal her. It didn't lessen her desire to scream at him, hit him.
His answer floored her and she slapped his hand away from the grievous wound. The templar's sword had nearly disemboweled her and probably would have had Fenris not tackled the unsuspecting man to save her life. She wondered briefly through her blood red haze if he would have done so had he known the treacherous decision she'd make only moments later.
His blood-slicked hand shot out and grasped hers painfully. "You can be angry at me," he said through gritted teeth, "when you aren't in danger of bleeding out."
"You had a million chances to tell me, you bastard!" she growled, ripping her fingers out of his and slapping him hard. His head snapped to the side, leaving trails of her blood across the side of his face. Instead of turning back to her, he sat and waited, listening to her angry words in the fashion of a man resolved to his fate. "Instead you killed countless innocents and sent an entire city into turmoil to save our people! And do you truly believe that what you've done will save us? Or do you not think that the templars will twist the chains even tighter around our necks?"
She gripped his chin and turned his face to her, her eyes dark with hurt and anger. "And you used me, you selfish, selfishman." He flinched visibly at her words. Angry tears stung her eyes and she dropped her hand from his face, turning away from his piercing gaze as if giving him permission to go about what he was doing. In a few short moments his hand was pressing to her side again and the healing magics surged through her abdomen, warming her skin but not curing the undeniably cold ache in her gut.
The calm sounds of nightfall soothed her as much as she could be soothed in her state. Just outside of the reach of her ears, she knew that the city was still in panic. In her mind's eye she could still see the buildings burning, children weeping over the corpses of their parents who were crushed under the debris of the fallen Chantry, or worse, parents weeping for their children... Her dog, dead and left to rot... A tear rolled down her cheek. So much loss...
Anders' magic dwindled in mere moments, her wounds closing as much as he could afford under his body's strain. For several long moments after the nearly unbearable itching of her mending flesh had subsided, Anders sat, his hand still loosely pressed to her side.
"I'm sorry." His voice was nearly carried off on the wind to join the embers and souls of the city as they floated to the heavens. "I'm so sorry. His voice... It won't go away. And when I think it has it worries me even more because I'm terrified that I just can't tell him from me any longer."
The unmistakable shudder of sobs shook his hand as he shifted it to rest on her belly. She glanced over to him in intrigued irritation. She didn't know what to make of the mage. Sometimes she could swear that he was beyond help, other times she thought he was worth saving. She hadn't decided how she felt now. After another set of sobs rocked the broken man's shoulders, she sighed, setting her hand on the nape of his neck.
"It's ok, Anders," she said soothingly, forcing aside the words that she wanted to say. "What has passed has passed. There is nothing we can do to change what has happened, but we can work together to fix the future."
His battle tousled hair pressed against her arm as he sank against her side, not caring that her blood was soaking into his mantle. The position felt intimate and it made Hawke shift in discomfort.
"I am unworthy of your friendship," he hiccuped and wiped his nose on his sleeve. He looked so very much like a child that it made her heart hurt.
She had been disgusted by the idea of Anders' dishonesty, his duplicity against her when she had been one of the so very few had given a damn about him. The thought nearly sent her to sending him away in retribution after the destruction of the Chantry, but she had quelled the urges. Now she found herself smoothing her hands through his hair to comfort him. "Shut up," Hawke replied quietly without malice. "Now is not the time for self loathing."
He hung his head lower, his nose brushing against her thigh. "How can you be so forgiving?"
"Who said that I have forgiven you?" she paused, watching as his watery brown eyes lifted to hers with a frantic look. That look told her more about his mental state than she would ever want to admit; it was as if she were one of the only things still holding him together. "You will have to earn my forgiveness," Hawke added levelly.
"Then I will do whatever it takes, I swear," he said, his fingers curling into the fabric of her leggings, "Just don't send me away from you. Please. I would rather you kill me than send me away."
"I will not," she softened. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a loose hug. "I will help you, Anders. We will figure out how to save both you and Justice."
He clung to her helplessly. She had never seen Anders in such a state before. It honestly scared her. How long had he been so close to snapping? Such an overwhelming sense of guilt fell to her shoulders. Could she have prevented the whole ordeal? Had her negligence of the rebel mage been to blame for his rash actions? She bit her lip as doubt swirled in her mind, gnashing its razor sharp teeth at her excuses. Pushing the thoughts aside, she rested her chin on the crown of his head.
