[ AN: First scene takes place in Act 1 of Dragon Age II, after most of the regular quests, but before the Deep Roads Expedition. ]

"How can you do it, Hawke?"

Anders didn't look up from the bandage he was tying around Hawke's arm as he posed the question. She'd taken a blow bad enough that she'd passed out from blood loss earlier that day, and despite her protests that she was fine, the apostate Grey Warden had insisted she be treated properly. There were some injuries that basic healing magic wouldn't quite solve.

Hawke suppressed her initial reaction to the question - much as she longed to give him an annoyed sigh or groan - and decided there was no getting around this conversation any longer. She knew exactly what he was talking about, but letting him know that would be far too accommodating of her. If he wanted to drag her through this conversation, she was going to make him work for it.

"I can do a lot of things, Anders," she said. "You'll have to be more specific."

She winced as he yanked the bandage tight, probably harder than he needed to. "I think you know I was talking about the mages, Hawke," he said, still not making eye contact with her. "But I suppose a better question would be how you can sleep at night after what you've done?"

"Poorly," she said casually. "Though I think that's rather more to do with the quality of bedding in Gamlen's shithole of a house than any kind of guilty conscience."

"How could you work with the Templars? You're one of us. You know what it's like to live as an apostate, to fear capture by the Circle and Chantry every day of your life. How can you possibly turn them over?"

Hawke didn't suppress her sigh this time. "Look, I think you and I have set enough abominations and reanimated corpses on fire these past few weeks to realize the Templars aren't just locking mages away because they like being jerks. There's a reason the Circle exists, Anders. Mages get into some nasty stuff, as you and I well know."

Anders finally looked up at that, eyes flashing. "Don't spout the Chantry's lies at me! Not all of those you sent away were blood mages! Most of them were innocent people, just trying to get away and live a life!"

"The Chantry's lies? You really want to sit there, as a mage, and argue to me that mages aren't dangerous? Increased risk of possession aside, the fact that either one of us could set this room on fire at will seems dangerous enough. I haven't studied for long and I already know how to do more than I feel comfortable letting the average idiot on the street having access to."

Anders shook his head in disbelief. "I can understand how someone like Fenris could be blind to their suffering after what he's been through, but you? You've stayed free of the Circle because you know what it's really like! How can you sentence fellow mages to that life?" He paused, eyes narrowing. "Unless… that's it."

Hawke didn't like the change in his tone of voice. "What's it?"

"Fenris," Anders said, the name spoken like an accusation. "I've seen the way you look at him. What is this, some kind of twisted courtship ritual? You hand over mages into captivity the way another suitor might hand a bouquet of flowers?"

Hawke sneered. "Well, you know, Knight-Captain Cullen is a rather fetching sort too. Maybe I'm tying mages up in bows to try to catch his eye. Did you consider that?"

"This isn't a joke, Hawke! We're talking about people's lives here!"

"Then don't say things so stupid they make me want to laugh." She shrugged her arm out of reach, despite the fact that whatever stitches or bandaging he was doing hadn't been completed yet. "This isn't about Fenris. Even if I do think he's attractive, that's not how I work. Do you honestly take me for the kind of person to lap at his heels and suck up to gain favor like that? I thought Wardens were supposed to be perceptive."

He made as if to grab the bandages, but she just pulled out of reach again. Shooting her an annoyed glance, he let his hands drop with a sigh.

"No, I've never gotten that feeling from you," he said. "But that would at least make sense, albeit in a disgustingly twisted sort of way. But this?" He looked up, meeting her eyes, and for someone supposedly outraged with her actions, she saw a surprising amount of humility in his expression. "Please, Hawke. I just want to understand. How can you hate them so?"

She glanced away, the sincerity in his request making her uncomfortable. "I don't hate them. I'm just not about to let them wander around and yank dangerous entities out of the Fade. The templars and Circle keep them under control."

"They didn't choose to be mages! It's not their fault they're at risk! Beyond that, there are those among them who are safe, who know how to cont-"

"There's enough of them who aren't!" Hawke snapped."And you can't say that those who haven't succumbed yet, won't!"

Anders stood, slightly taller than she was while sitting on his high table. "So they are to be locked away like criminals for crimes they didn't even commit?"

"I'm not going to coddle the demon bait just because you feel bad for them, Anders! You're not exactly the best example of saying no to bodymates from the Fade. I seem to remember you feeling the need to warn me how dangerous you are when you lose control and Justice takes over, and you've got one of the nice ones!"

Anders opened his mouth, then closed it again with a pursed-lipped frown. "This isn't about me, it's about them. What happens here in Kirkwall? This isn't normal. I'm sure you saw back in Ferelden that mages normally don't fall prey quite so easily as they do here. Abominations are supposed to be rare occurrences, even among apostates."

He turned away, almost pacing across the floor of the small clinic as his tone grew distant. "It's this city, the templars here and the abuses of their Circle. They drive these mages to desperation and then blame them for what they do there! Living in constant fear, it weakens them. It makes them susceptible. When faced with the fate of life trapped in the Circle, is it any wonder they turn to any means necessary to escape? If they weren't being caged like animals they wouldn't lash out to try to get away!"

Hawke dragged a hand down her face with her uninjured arm. She did not want to be having this conversation right now. "Whatever their reasons, you said it yourself: Mages here are more likely to end up bad than other places. That's reason enough for me to turn them over. Besides, I've got more than enough reason to stay off the templars' bad side." She tapped her fingers against the staff sitting on the table beside her.

"You'd sell them out to save your own skin!"

"I'm pretty fond of my own skin, yeah!"

He finally looked back at her, disgust written across his features. "Yet for all your talk of mages being dangerous and susceptible, I don't see you volunteering for a room down in the Gallows, Hawke."

She gave him a small shrug. "Nor will you anytime soon."

He paused, eyes narrowing. "You're a rare breed of honest hypocrite."

"It's not hypocrisy. I deserve to be free. The mages I turn in don't."

He seemed conflicted at that response, as though he couldn't quite decide if he should be confused, angry, or disappointed. "And by what kind of twisted logic have you decided that?"

"Simple," she said, completely unashamed. "I deserve to be free because I am free."

"Wha-"

She leaned forward slightly, speaking over him before he could finish his question. "Here's the deal. You want to be an apostate? You need to be strong enough to resist the demons and smart enough to stay away from the really stupidly dangerous magics. The ones who I trust to handle themselves outside the Circle are the ones who can keep themselves outside of it. If you're weak or foolish enough to get captured by me or the templars, then obviously you didn't deserve that freedom in the first place."

He kept his eyes on her for a long moment, then went back to tying off her bandage, shaking his head. "That's an awfully convenient philosophy. 'Everyone captured deserves captivity.' How nice it must be for you to not have to think morally about your actions or bother with the annoyance of empathy! Only the strong and clever ought to be treated like people, let's cage the rest! Just ignore that they didn't choose to be dangerous, that their only crime is wanting to live like anyone else does!"

Anders was a useful person to have tag along on adventures, which was why Hawke suffered his talk of causes as long as she did. But she'd never had much patience for arguments, and she could only take being attacked for so long before she got defensive.

Unfortunately for him, being a mage had taught her quickly that the best defense was a good offense.

"You want to talk about hypocrisy? About my lack of empathy, Anders?" Her tone had turned savage as she decided enough was enough. "What about you? Let's talk about your callous hypocrisy for a little bit, huh?"

"Excuse me?" There was a small shift from righteous outrage to offended outrage in the Grey Warden, as Hawke changed the topic without warning. It was subtle, but the difference was there.

"Oh, you heard me just fine," Hawke said, refusing to let up. She fixed him a glare practiced to be threatening. "Sure you care about mages just fine, but anyone else in the city? You couldn't care less. You were so upset about me handing Feynriel over to the Circle, but would you have cared about him at all if he hadn't had magic? What if he were just another alienage elf, starving and scraping to get by in a city that hates him? Merrill's heart breaks everytime we walk in there, but the only place that makes you scowl is the Gallows."

"That's not tr-"

She didn't let him finish. "And, if we're going to say that you don't care about elves because you aren't one, how about our fellow Fereldens? The life of a refugee in the streets is living in the dust, resorting to crime out of, hmm what was it? Desperation for how terrible their situation in Kirkwall is. Sound like any other groups you know? Yeah, you'll patch them up if they walk in here, but Maker forbid you lift a finger for them once they step outside! Not unless they can shoot a bolt from a staff at least!

"It even happens with me. I'd be willing to bet Isabela's drinking money that the only reason you and I are having this little chat is because I'm a mage myself!" She raised an eyebrow, daring him to deny it. "Oh, you'll bicker with Fenris, but you never really try to change his mind. I can't imagine you'd sit here lecturing Aveline or Varric or Isabela while stitching them up either. You don't talk to me like I'm some acquaintance you disagree with, no. You act like some Revered Mother, and I'm one of your flock who's gone astray. How dare I be a member of the 'one of us' and not share your views, right?"

Anders seemed to be struggling to find words to yell back at her. Hawke was being overly hard on him, and she knew it, but she also didn't care. She didn't truly believe the bad spin she was putting on things, but she wanted to shut him up and hitting him where it hurt seemed like the fastest way to do that. She let him stutter, open-mouthed at her accusations. It suited her just fine.

"You want to accuse me of not being empathetic enough?" she asked. "Fine, but at least I'm honest about it. This whole city is a cesspit and I don't see the point in risking my neck to try to clean it up. I just want to survive, and I don't think it's my job to feel bad when others can't do the same. Mages aren't the only ones who have it hard, Anders. But for reasons I can't believe aren't at least a little bit selfish, they're the only ones you care about."

His features drew together, creases spreading across his forehead as his expression shifted from disbelieving to wounded to defensive to angry once more. By the time she finished, she had no idea which emotion he'd decide to settle on. To be honest, she hadn't even been thinking that far. She prepared herself for him to curse at her, or send her away, or Maker forbid, another treatise on why she was a bad person for not helping her fellow mages.

She wasn't ready for him to grab her, however.

She froze as hands meant for healing clasped her arms, just below the shoulders. Anders seemed to have forgotten the bandage he'd just tied around her wound, and his grip was tight enough to be sore even on her uninjured side. The stitched-up gash sent a flash of pain lancing up her arm as Anders held it, but she forced herself to react with no more than a wince.

Besides, the pain from the wound seemed like a minor concern in the face of the outraged apostate whose grip was causing it. Hawke suddenly questioned her wisdom in pushing him so far. With him pinning her arms as he was, she couldn't reach her staff, even though it was right beside her. She wasn't nearly as good at casting loosely, but she started drawing up what power she could to defend herself if things turned bad.

She stared into eyes wide with anger and steeled herself for the flash of light she was sure would overtake them, the cracked lines of energy she remembered shattering its way across his skin when he'd lost control to Justice in the Chantry. It wasn't a power she relished the idea of facing on her own. What had she been thinking? Hadn't she just said how dangerous he was when he lost control?

Her fears of the spirit manifesting were unneeded, however. Anders' eyes remained his own. Not that that made him much less terrifying.

"You think I don't care about them?" he asked, voice rising to dangerous volumes. "You think I could walk past the sufferings that these people face and feel nothing? Watch them walk through my doors and just ignore what they're going through? I'm not you, Hawke! I hear every cry for help that rings out, in Darktown, in Lowtown, in all of Kirkwall, and they feel like daggers, every one of them! I feel it all! What I can't understand how you don't feel it!

"But I can't care about them," His hands trembled, even as he held her tightly. "I... I'm not strong enough to care about them all. There's too much wrong with this world and I'm only one person! I would give anything for the power fix the world, but I don't have it, as much as it pains me to admit it! All the arcane knowledge in the world can't fix the sufferings of people, and I could sell my soul to the most powerful demon in the Fade and still be unable to save them!"

His grip slackened, though he didn't let go of her completely, and suddenly the Grey Warden looked exhausted. Like a mask being taken off, the proud defiant apostate had become a weary man struggling with a burden much too heavy for him, but that he didn't dare set down. Hawke relaxed just slightly, less worried about needing to defend herself, and more worried that he might be on the verge of a breakdown now.

"It does pain me, Hawke," he said, voice taking on a hollow quality it hadn't had before. "Do you know what it feels like to everything that's wrong with this city - no, with this world - literally burn you from the inside out? Of course not. How could you? But every cry from the streets- mage or not - tears at me, begging me to do something to make it right. But I'm not strong enough. I could try all my life and never be strong enough."

He let his hands drop, stepping away from her with a grimace like he'd tasted something bitter. "It's the first thing one learns as a healer: You cannot save everyone. There isn't enough time or energy or skill. Sometimes you must step away and let someone die in order to save the ones you can. But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. It doesn't mean I don't wish with every fiber of my being that I could do more. It all hurts, Hawke. But I have to choose to try to save the ones I can."

Hawke fell silent, absently rubbing the skin around her bandage where he'd grabbed her. "You don't owe them anything, Anders," she finally said. "This cause of yours is going to kill you."

He gave her a long look before turning away. "If that's what it takes."

"Fine, you can believe what you like. But I'm not going to be dragged into this," she insisted. He could tie himself to the stake if he wanted, but martyrdom had never appealed to her. "You don't have to work with me if this mage thing is going to be a problem, you know."

He didn't answer, keeping his back to her as he started to fold the bandages he hadn't used.

Hawke sighed. "But... I'll take that stunning answer to mean that you will. Probably thinking you'll win me over to this little mages crusade eventually. You won't. It's a stupid risk and I've always hated sob stories. But you can tag along so long as you're useful."

He still wouldn't look at her. Just kept folding. "You should rest the next few days to let that injury heal. Change the bandage tomorrow, and don't pull the stitches."

Hawke gave the apostate's back and annoyed frown. "Really? That's it? We shout at each other and then you decide we're just done? You're gonna dump your mages rights tirade on me and then clam up and send me off with boring healer instructions like nothing even happened?"

Anders' posture stiffened, but he didn't turn around. "Just go, Hawke."

"Maybe I wasn't done yet, Anders. You picked this fight and maybe I want to see it f-"

"Go." His voice seemed strained, but without being able to see his expression, she couldn't quite tell if the word was a command, a plea, or a threat. Perhaps some mix of all three.

She didn't like being dismissed, by him or anyone, but she supposed she had been looking for a way to end the conversation when she'd gone on the attack. The chances she would do anything other than make it worse if she stayed now seemed slim anyway. With a huff, she pushed herself off the table to her feet, favoring one side as she did so, and turned for the door out into Darktown.

She paused, her good hand resting against the open door frame. "Thanks for the stitches, at least."

Without turning around or waiting for a reaction she was certain wouldn't come, she headed out into Kirkwall once more, hoping this was the last she'd hear of this stupid debate, and fearing that it wouldn't be.