Hey, this is going to be a story from Anders' point of view starting from the minute Hawke walks in to his clinic in Darktown. I try to keep a lot of the canon dialogue… but I also edit it if it's particularly cringeworthy or doesn't quite fit. It should be in chronological order as I add new chapters, also rated M for future smut.

He lay there, under the stars, his thoughts drifting back to the past. He often reflected on the events that had led him here, the people who had touched him, the actions he had taken. This time, however, the subject of his musings was very specific.

Daggers. Swords. The newcomers were armed. Feeling Justice rise inside him at the threat, but quickly pushing the spirit back down, Anders reached behind him and brought out his staff. He swung round to face the group that had entered his clinic.

"I have made this place a sanctum of healing and salvation. Why do you threaten it?" He could still hear Justice in the undertones of his voice, but no, NO, he would stay in control. He couldn't let everyone see what he was.

The dark haired woman who seemed to lead them stepped forward, she was petite and curvy, though she held herself with confidence, as if she knew exactly what she was capable of, "I'm just here to talk." She showed him her hands and made no move towards her weapons, and Anders let his grasp on his staff loosen slightly. He felt the spirit recede within him too, he was himself again.

A dwarf stepped out from behind her, "We're interested in getting into the Deep Roads." He said, "Rumour has it you were a Warden. Do you know a way?"

"If the Wardens sent you to bring me back, I'm not going, those bastards made me give up my cat!" He ended on a mutter. Judging that they were honest enough and putting his staff away, Anders continued speaking, "Poor Ser Pounce-a-Lot, he hated the Deep Roads." Melancholy swept through him at the thought of his life… before.

The woman spoke again, she had a soft voice, gentle, but commanding at the same time. And was that a Ferelden accent? "You had a cat called Ser Pounce-a-Lot? In the Deep Roads?" A smile tugged at her lips.

"He was a gift. A noble beast. Almost got ripped in half by a Genlock once. He swatted the bugger on the nose – drew blood too!" She laughed, a strangely joyful sound in the darkness of his clinic. "The blighted Wardens said he made me too soft, I had to give him to a friend in Amaranthine."

She now tilted her head curiously, "I've always heard that joining the Wardens is for life?"

Anders sighed, "That's only partly true, the hopelessly tainted by the darkspawn and plagued by nightmares about the archdemon parts don't go away. But it turns out, if you hide well, you don't have to wear the uniform or go to the parties."

She smiled at him again, and he felt his eyes be drawn to her full lips. He jerked them back up in time to catch her next words. "I'm part of an expedition into the Deep Roads. Any information you have could save peoples' lives."

"I will be a very happy man if I never think about the blighted Deep Roads again." He didn't ever want to see those dark, stone walls or feel the incessant pull of the darkspawn on his blood again. There were too many bad memories there. "You can't imagine what I've come through to get here. I'm not interested in – " He stopped as an idea occurred to him. "Although… a favour for a favour? Does that sound like a fair deal? You help me, I'll help you."

She raised her eyebrow at him. "Let's be more specific, I don't do anything involving children or animals."

He was amused, despite himself. He was beginning to like this strange woman. "I have a Warden map of the depths in this area, but there's a price." He took a deep breath and spoke. "I came to Kirkwall to help a friend, a mage, a prisoner in the wretched Gallows. The templars learned of my plan to free him. Help me bring him past them and you shall have your maps." Anders looked into her eyes, trying to gage her reaction in them, mentally preparing his defences in case he had misjudged her.

She met his gaze, "You want to make your friend an apostate? The-"

He felt his anger grow as he interrupted her, "That is such a weighted term! Yes, Andraste said magic should serve man not rule him, but I've yet to find a mage who wants to rule anything. It goes against no will of the Maker for mages to live as free as other men."

There was steel in her eyes as she replied. "Forcing mages into servitude is not the way to prevent the rise of another Imperium. I know that."

Anders was stunned, she cared about the plight of the mages? "That's not usually the response I get, perhaps we will work together better than I expected…"

Again, she smiled at him - she seemed to do that a lot. "Okay, you've convinced me. Now what's you plan?"

"I welcome your aid." He hesitantly returned the smile, not sure what to make of this odd woman, "I have already sent word for Karl to meet me in the Chantry tonight. Join us there and we will make sure, no matter who is with him, we will all walk away free."

"We'll be there." With that she turned and her and her party began to move out of the clinic.

Anders had the urge to follow her, but didn't know why. Instead he called out, "I didn't catch your name."

She smiled once more as she turned round to look at him, and he felt something similar to a kick in the gut at the sight. "People call me Hawke."

"I'm Anders."

"I know." Still smiling, she continued walking until he could no longer see her, or her group, in the gloom of Dark Town.

He reached up to absentmindedly scratch at his thin layer of dark stubble. Maker, she was something. Maybe his plan would actually work with her help. He would have attempted it anyway, he owed Karl that much, but he wasn't stupid. The plan wasn't flawless. But with her being there it felt like he could, no, that he would succeed.

Shaking his head to clear it of thoughts of the mysterious Hawke, Anders centred himself and let the magic flow through him – there was more healing to be done. This was something he could do.

Later that evening Anders was stood outside the large, imposing building that was Kirkwall's Chantry. He froze as a group began to appear from around the corner- even Hightown could be unsafe at night, but then relaxed as he recognised Hawke at the lead. As she walked towards him he got a good look at her, she had dark, thick, brunette hair which was scraped back into a loose ponytail and she wore light armour that fit close to her natural, muscled curves. Her eyes were a deep indigo and she had a detailed tattoo on each cheek made up of thick, confident, flowing lines.

Peering curiously at the group that followed her he saw the same dwarf from earlier – blonde, with a large expanse of chest hair on show and a rather impressive crossbow strapped to his back. There was also a small elf – Dalish by the look of her tattoos, who was carrying a large mage's staff, and a human mage too. Her choice of companions explained her views on apostates and mages, though, Anders realised, as he got a closer look at the human mage, there may be another, larger reason for it. The girl bore a startling resemblance to Hawke. You could never mistake one for the other, but it was there – in the eyes, the determined set of the chin.

An apostate sister. No wonder she was willing to help his friend. And that was probably why she asked if he wanted to make his friend an apostate in the first place – she knew what it meant to hide from the templars. She'd probably been running all of her life. Just like him.

"Hawke."

"Anders. This is Varric, you met him earlier." She said gesturing to the blonde dwarf. "And these two are Merril," The elf stepped forward, "And Bethany, my sister.", she finished, confirming Anders' suspicions.

"Pleased to meet you all, and I thank you for helping me with this." He turned back to Hawke, "I saw Karl go inside a few minutes ago. No templars so far. When we find him, I'll handle the talking and you watch for trouble. Are you ready to go in?"

Hawke gave a short nod. As Anders turned to enter the building he felt a small touch on his arm. Knowing who it was, even before he looked, he looked round and met Hawke's steely, blue gaze.

"We will help your friend. No matter what." And then her hand was gone and she was entering the Chantry, though Anders could still feel her touch, as if it was branded into his skin.

Telling himself to get a hold of himself, Anders followed. The Chantry was eerily quiet at night. The statues cast foreboding shadows on the walls that flickered in the candle light. He didn't like it, it reminded him of the Circle. It didn't take them too long to find Karl. He was stood in a small alcove, his back to them as they approached.

He began to speak. "Anders, I know you too well. I knew that you would never give up." Karl's voice was flat, monotone… dead. Anders felt a shard of cold fury stab through his heart. No, it couldn't be, not Karl.

"What's wrong? Why are you talking like-"

Karl turned and Anders saw the brand on his forehead. His heart froze in his chest. "I was too rebellious. Like you. The templars knew that I had to be… made an example of."

"No!" The despairing shout was torn from his throat. His hands were clenched at his sides as he fought to control his growing anguish and rage.

"How else will mages ever master themselves?" Karl's voice was emotionless, empty… it hurt Anders inside to hear it. Karl was one of the only friends he had left… or he had been. Why must the Circle and the templars take everything from him? Floods of raw emotion were flowing through him and he was struggling to stay in control. "You'll understand Anders. As soon as the templars teach you to control yourself."

Anders spun around as he heard metallic footsteps enter the room behind him, Hawke, he noticed, had already drawn her daggers and was moving in front of him and Karl, barring the templars path.

"This is the apostate."

"No!" He felt Justice rise up in him and he had no fight left, he fell to his knees as the spirit took over. Anders was forced to take a back seat in his own mind as the rage poured out of him. "You will never take another mage as you took him!" His voice had changed, it was deeper, rougher, filled with an ancient power… and anger. So much anger.

Justice spun Anders' body around blasting templar after templar with raw power. Anders couldn't do a thing to help, he hated this, hated being trapped in his own mind, only being able to observe through eyes that he knew would be blue and glowing. It was like he was going through the motions without conscious thought, feeling a echo of the emotions pouring through his body. He saw Hawke take down several templars, moving fluidly and she weaved in and out of the battle. She was mesmerising. Then the battle was over, and he regained control of his limbs as he felt the spirit sink back down, dormant, for now.

He was breathing hard as he turned to face Karl.

"I – Anders, what did you do?" The mage's voice was incredulous. Wary. It was as if he were no longer Tranquil, "It's like… you brought a piece of the Fade into this world." There was pain in his eyes as he continued. "I had already forgotten what that feels like."

Hawke stepped forward, wiping templar blood off of her face. "I thought the Tranquil were cut off from the Fade forever."

"When you're Tranquil, you never think on your life before. But… it's like the Fade itself is inside Anders. Burning like a sun." His eyes turned desperate. "Please, kill me before I forget again! I don't know how you brought it back… but it's fading."

Anders felt cold, "Karl, no-"

Interrupting him, Hawke asked, "Maybe we can find a cure?"

Anders turned to her, "Can you cure beheading? The dreams of Tranquil mages are severed – there's nothing left of them to fix!" His anguish was apparent in his voice and she moved towards him, one hand outstretched as if to provide what comfort she could.

Karl spoke softly. "I would rather die a mage than live as a templar puppet."

Then he did feel her hand, warm through the cloth on his arm. "My sister calls being Tranquil a fate worse than death." The compassion in her overwhelmed him, "Give him peace."

Taking courage from her, Anders turned back to Karl. "I got here too late. I'm sorry Karl, I'm so sorry." His voice broke on the last few words.

Karl's voice was desperate, "Now! It's fading… " His gaze became blank and his voice was empty again, devoid of the fear that had permeated it before. "Why do you look at me like that?"

Feeling numb, Anders stared into the face of his friend. The only thing he was aware of was the warmth of Hawke's hand on his arm, lending him her strength.

He stepped forward and whispered, "Goodbye." Before placing his hand on Karl's stomach and letting loose the power of his magic to stop his heart.

Karl gasped slightly, then crumpled to the floor.

Anders turned away, unable to look at the body of his friend. "We should leave before more templars arrive." He didn't meet anyone's gaze. He didn't trust himself to stay composed if he did. With that he walked swiftly out of the building.

Unsurprisingly, Hawke followed him to his clinic. However, by the time they arrived her other companions had left. He leant against the wall of his home, feeling hollow. Now he had no one.

"That wasn't normal magic you just did, was it?" Her voice was kind with no trace of judgement, and it snapped him out of his stupor.

"I… this is hard to explain. When I was in Amaranthine, I met a spirit of Justice who was trapped outside the Fade. We became friends. And he recognised the injustice that mages in Thedas face every day."

Her brow furrowed slightly, "And that's… different from a demon?"

Anders tried to explain, "Just as demons prey on the deadly sins of mankind, there are good spirits who embody our virtues. Spirits of compassion, fortitude… justice. They are the Maker's first children, and they have all but given up on us."

She walked over to him and met his gaze. "So what does this have to do with your eyes glowing?", she said, with a waggle of her fingers towards his face.

He shifted under her scrutiny, "To live outside of the Fade, he needed a host. I offered to help him…" Her eyebrow raised and he felt distinctly uncomfortable. "We were going to work together, bring justice to every child ever ripped away from his mother to be sent to the Circle. But… I guess I had too much anger. Once he was inside of me, he… changed.".

"Let me get this straight. You have this spirit of justice living inside your head?"

"It's not like that. He's gone now. He's part of me. It's not like we can… have a conversation. I feel his thoughts as my own. " Anders grimaced. "Not even the greatest scholar could tell you where I end and he begins."

Her touch surprised him, as he had been talking she had drawn closer and had now laid a gentle hand on his cheek, turning him to look at her.

"That didn't look like a happy, benevolent spirit from where I was standing."

Anders quirked an eyebrow at her, but didn't remove her hand. "Since when is justice happy? Justice is righteous. Justice is hard." He looked into her gaze. "But I see your point. I think there was too much hatred in me. Justice thought that he would overcome that." His eyes darkened, "But my anger… when I see templars now, things that have always outraged me, but I could never to anything about…" Anders winced at the reality of who he was now.

Sighing, he continued. "He comes out. And he is no longer my friend Justice. He is a force of vengeance. And he has no grasp of mercy."

A moment of silence passed as she processed this. Then a small, thoughtful smile played across her lips, and she left her hand on his cheek. "You're a good man, Anders, you put yourself in danger to help your friend. This spirit doesn't change that. Though, that does explain the tall, dark and dangerous look you have going." She ended with a grin.

Anders was shocked. He had expected her to pull away from the abomination he was, but instead she was poking gentle fun at him. Trying to help. Believing in him, it had been so long since someone had done that.

"Perhaps I should check a looking glass more often." He quipped. Then he turned his head into her hand slightly. "I had not thought to ever find a woman who would look past what I just said."

She smiled at him, but removed her hand. He felt the loss immediately. He spoke softly. "My maps are yours. As am I, if you wish me to join your expedition. I thought I was done with the Grey Wardens, but if you have any need of me… I will be waiting here."

"Thank you, Anders." And with that, Hawke left.

For the rest of the night he replayed their conversation again and again. She intrigued him, more than anyone else he had come across in Kirkwall. He wanted to see her again, selfish as that was.

It turned out he didn't have to wait long. Hawke returned the following day. She wandered in during a gap in his usually steady flow of patients.

"Hawke?"

"Anders, got time to talk?"

"Yes. Of course. Come, sit down." He peered at her, she seemed slightly scuffed – there was dirt on her face and a few splashes of blood on her armour. The sight brought back memories of Amaranthine. "I had a friend like you once, got in all kinds of trouble. Dragged me along too. I didn't think I'd be doing that again." She smirked at him, and he continued, "Listen, I got a bit weighty the last time we talked. Sorry, for putting that on you."

"You'd be surprised how people just tell me their darkest secrets. I must look trustworthy." She laughed in dismay.

But Anders could see why people spoke to her. "You look… something. True. Proud. Like even if you don't agree with me, you'll be honest." And that was sometimes just what people needed. He paused, "I just, I hope I didn't seem too selfish when I told you about Justice. I didn't know what would happen, I figured a willing host, a friend, it had to be better than playing the demon and haunting some corpse."

"It's not your fault. You tried to help a friend." Her smile was genuine, kind. "And it's not like he can complain about the willing host." She raised her eyebrow and her smile transformed into a well-meaning smirk. "I like him anyway."

Anders was stunned - this has once been so effortless for him, easy flirting with anyone who'd respond, but that had changed years ago and he was not that man anymore. It hurt but, "No. Don't go there. That's not going to end well. I don't want to hurt you." He couldn't bear it if he destroyed that easy, affectionate smile.

"Why would you hurt me?"

"You saw what I did at the Chantry. That's who I am." It hurt him to say it, "A year ago, maybe we could have had something… but I'm not that man anymore. I'll break your heart, and that might kill me as surely as the templars."

He turned his head away, expecting her to be gone when he looked back. He was an abomination, and he had given her no reason to stay. Then her felt her hand on his arm. Why did she have to keep touching him?

"I don't think you will hurt me Anders." He met her eyes and saw nothing but sincerity in them. "Don't push me away. I know what I'm doing, I can look after myself." There was an amused glint in the blue irises now. "Friends?"

He took a shuddering breath. Unable to defend against her compassion, he had had so few people want to be near him, he nodded, "Friends."

"Good." She broke the eye contact. "Now could you take a look at my shoulder – you know, with your healing thing? I think I wrenched it when I was fighting last night. It's quite painful and I don't seem to be able to stab with that arm very well."

Relieved to have moved onto a new topic, Anders moved over to her, "Of course, you should have said."