What would have happened if Anders' concern that Hawke would have wanted to help him with his plot to destroy the Chantry was valid? Thought I'd explore that a little…

I struggled a little with what to call this story. In the end, I settled on "The Terrorist and the Parasite" because there's a little bit of both in everyone involved in this story.

This is darker than I've dared venture before, and things ended up in a place I didn't expect when I started out…I hope some of you will take the time to review and let me know what you think…

"Anders…just tell me," she pleaded.

And so he did. He told her his plan, down to every last detail. He refused to look her in the eyes as he outlined the intended locations of the explosive mixture. He explained the reasoning behind his extremist approach to negotiations. He revealed the logic behind wanting to carry out his plan late in the evening – to prevent unnecessary casualties. He had only wanted those responsible for such apathy to suffer…to know that this was because of their inaction. Their inability to make a decision, one way or the other. He felt at least that if the Grand Cleric and her Chantry had the backbone to side against the mages, he could declare open war. But with a lack of clear position, it would have to be declared in another way. One that told the world that mages had enough of the indifference on the part of the Chantry.

When he finished speaking, he slowly looked up, expecting to find a look of pure horror on her face. But he did not find that. He found something else. Her face displayed a look that he could only describe as conspiratorial. A smile crept on to her lips that made Anders' stomach turn. There was a sick pleasure in her voice as she finally responded to his revelation.

"We must move quickly to gather the required ingredients. The situation is escalating every day and I fear what will happen if it boils over and we are not ready to act," she said calmly.

We? Maker, what have I done?, Anders thought to himself. He had always hoped that she would support his position. That she would be able to forgive him once the deed was done. But he never expected her to become involved so vehemently. Not like this…it wasn't supposed to be like this…

He loved this woman in front of him. He loved her for so many reasons. Her convictions were strong. She always saw the positive side of the darkest times. She never once faltered in her support of the mages…in her support of him. But now, he saw a side to her that he had only once seen a shadow of. She had tasted vengeance when she came with him to seek out answers to the rumours of a "tranquil solution" – Justice had seen the look on her face as she held the bladed end of her staff at the templar's neck as he lay on the ground, imploring her to let him live. She took great pleasure in driving the blade into the man's throat, abruptly bringing his life to an end. It was in that moment that the spirit no longer saw her as a threat or distraction, but as an ally – and Justice would not allow him to forget that moment. Anders never wanted to admit that the experience frightened him, playing it off as though he didn't see what happened when the spirit took hold. But the eyes of Justice were his eyes, and he could not deny it. His fear was placated as her anger turned to compassion for the mage cowering from Justice's impending attack – she pulled him back from the brink of destroying the girl's life. He thought she would always be his balance…a source of stability to the imminent madness he saw on the horizon.

But now…

Would her unexpected reaction to his plans change everything? Push him further down this road to lunacy? Justice crept into his mind…their mind, pushing the last vestiges of humanity out of his grasp.

No…, he thought, this changes nothing. This makes it easy. There is nothing in the way of our justice now. This woman is…surprising… He wondered if he had any further need of the mage.

"Everyone out!" Anders – or perhaps Justice – roared at the lingering people in the clinic. His finger, pointing in the direction of the door, was shaking. His patients and those who volunteered to assist him had never seen him this way. They rushed out the door, and Hawke turned to do the same. He grabbed her roughly by the wrist, stopping her advance. The man who was last out the door closed it fearfully behind him. She was spun around to face the man who was Anders, but saw only cracks of blue light emanating from his skin…the glow of blue from his eyes. He was changed.

"I did not expect you to understand," said a voice that was no longer Anders. "That was…unforeseen."

"Did you expect resistance from me, spirit?" she asked, her eyes narrowing as she stared at him.

"Your resistance would have been of negligible impact. Yet your assistance in the matter will ensure the success of this mage. I am…impressed by your allegiance to your fellows. And your attachment to this one," he continued.

"I love him," she said, unwavering.

"And what of me?" he asked. "Do I not deserve your emotion? The mage and I are one now. Your…Anders cannot exist without me. Can you exist without your Anders?" He stepped towards her and placed a hand at her neck, his thumb curling a little too far around her throat. The spirit appeared to be mimicking the affection Anders showed to her in the past, not fully grasping all of the motions enough to get them right. She felt insecure for a moment in his grip, though did not recoil. His thumb pressed at her throat, causing her mouth to fall open in a gasp.

"Would you give yourself to me as you did him?" he asked pointedly. He had experienced the emotion of love only as a memory in the body of the Warden Kristoff. Those memories still lingered, intermingling with the thoughts for this woman that belonged to his new host. When he returned to Kristoff's wife in his decaying form, she withdrew from him, frightened at what had become of him. But his current host was living. He had experienced their past relations as an outsider – a voyeur looking in through foreign eyes. He could never grapple with the pleasure the humans took in such activities. Romance…love…sex…none of these were concepts he could identify with. He felt a desire to understand, and waited for her to comply.

She did not know how to respond to him. She felt threatened by his question about Anders – she knew deep down that she would likely not be able to live without the mage. Not understanding what the spirit was suggesting, she felt it best that she bend to his requests, for Anders' sake. Justice had never arrived in this manner before – it had only ever been in instances of anger…where a templar threatened the life or freedom of a mage that the spirit had burst to the forefront of his host's mind. But this…this was different. She couldn't comprehend, and so she responded to his question by moving towards his lips to kiss him. At first he did not respond. But then, his mouth responded to hers, roughly pressing into her. She pulled back and opened her eyes, hoping to see that the man inside had returned, but the spirit remained.

He stared at the mortal woman in front of him, wondering if the reaction this body had to the kiss belonged to the mage or to him. He decided that he wished for the feeling to continue and grabbed her brusquely by both forearms. He pulled her close to him and kissed her again. His hands gripped her arms tightly, and she whimpered slightly under the pressure. He loosened his grip at the sound of her discomfort and she pulled away from him. She was clearly moved by his advances, but did not know how to react in this foreign territory. Anders had never been so forceful, and the sensation produced by the aggressive spirit had captivated her. As if out of her own body, she saw herself push the man that was no longer Anders against a nearby table. He yielded to her and quickly spun her around on to the table.

Prior to this night, their affair had been torrid and animalistic, but there was still something human there. There was love. That night, the love was gone, replaced by a shared hatred for their enemy. They ripped and clawed at each other, adding pain to their pleasure. He hungrily bit at her skin, causing her to yelp and moan. The spirit quickly came to understand why the mage felt such yearning for the woman. He could not comprehend love, but now knew lust. He recalled the moments she shared with Anders, and tried to imitate their actions. She gasped for air when he joined with her and brought the full power of the Fade with him. It was then she knew that she began to suspect that her love was gone…perhaps forever. Lost to the spirit inhabiting his body. He continued to thrust into her repeatedly, and she no longer felt…anything. She stared at the ceiling, cold and full of regret. Her mind raced; full of confusing thoughts and random images of a life lost. Anders, forgive me love…

Justice pulled off of her and retrieved the clothing that had once belonged to Anders. She sat up, staring at the cracks of blue light still present all over his body.

"Will you never allow him to return?" she mused aloud. He ignored her.

She would help this man who was no longer Anders, this spirit of vengeance. She would destroy the Chantry, the first of many things that would stand in the way of freedom for mages. And then she would offer herself up to atone for her crimes. A fitting sacrifice to end the mission begun by the one she loved.

"You and I are one now," he said to her. "I cannot exist without you. Can you exist without me?"