Author's note: Weekly Alistair prompt "Everyone has a dark(er) side." Warning, there's likely to be some disturbing stuff in this. And of course, lots of my trademark angst! ;)

He crouched before the small fire that he'd setup for his own, tonight he understood why Morrigan camped separately from everyone else. He couldn't bear to be around the others after his actions earlier that day, especially her. Alistair knew as a warrior, as a templar, there were parts of his mind, heart and soul that were best to keep from the light of day, but he'd never expected that when they did surface, they would do so in front of Marlana. Or so horribly.

As if thinking about her summoned her, he felt that familiar presence with its odd Taint. Ever since she drank Avernus's concoction the Taint in her had changed, but as far as he could tell it was just different, not that it made the Taint in her stronger. He didn't look up at her, not wanting to see the cool indifference she wore when she didn't want anyone to see what she was thinking. Or worse yet, what she really thought showing in those brilliant blue eyes. He could hear her deliberately walking towards him, making every effort not to sneak up on him so she wouldn't startle him.

But it wasn't possible for her to startle him like that, somehow he always knew when she was near. Normally he didn't mind, welcomed it in fact. Welcomed the desire she could stir in him with just a smile. But now, now he didn't welcome it, completely the opposite in fact as he felt that familiar hunger as he got the beloved scent on the gentle breeze. The way he was feeling, if he did give in, it wouldn't be gentle and the thought of hurting her made him ill.

"Let's talk, Alistair", it worse, far worse than he thought as he heard the worry in her voice. She still cared for him, despite showing her what kind of beast he was.

"Go away", he said roughly and as rudely as possible.

He shuddered at the gentle touch of her hand on his shoulder, shuddered in need, and fear of that need. At the gentleness of her voice as she said, "No. I'm not leaving you."

"Oh Maker, Lana, please, just go. Go and don't come back." Alistair's voice cracked, she wasn't safe with him, not now, if she ever had been.

Then both hands were on his shoulders, gently kneading the tense muscles through the thin linen of his shirt. Despite himself, he could feel his body starting to relax. Most of it relaxed, except for one part that ached. When she spoke again, there wasn't just concern, but anger, "You're out here alone with no arms or armor and you expect me to leave you defenseless? When you wouldn't let anyone treat your injuries from earlier? Alistair, talk to me dammit."

He looked down at his hands, at the knuckles that were split open and still bleeding occasionally. He didn't remember that happening, but imagined it came from when he punched the bastard in the mouth repeatedly. She moved closer to him, he could smell her better now, and fought the urge to pull her down and… He shook his head and froze, torn between pushing her away and pulling her closer as she took up one of his hands to first smear healing salve over the still open cuts then wrapping it up with a bandage. As she began to repeat the same actions with the other hand, she spoke softly, "What's wrong, love? We've both killed people before, I don't understand why you're so upset. Talk to me, please."

Despite himself, his head jerked up so he could look at her, saw the worry mixed with fear for him. And over it all the fact she still loved him.

"What's not to understand? I beat a man to death with my bare hands. Which I assure you is very different from killing a bandit or one of Loghain's flunkies. Because that's in the heat of battle and they usually have weapons. And armor."

Seeing the man raising the whip to his children, especially the little girl with the pale blonde hair and big blue eyes, had filled Alistair with rage. But he first he tried to talk to the bastard, but the man brushed him off with "They're my spawn, I can do what I want with 'em." Those words made something in Alistair snap, his vision hazed, then he soon saw literal red as he used his fists to turn a grown man into so much pulped meat. He didn't remember much after that, or even during the beating, except the dull thuds of flesh on flesh. When he came back to himself, they were back at camp with Lana crouched before him with worried eyes and Wynne trying to heal him, but he kept stopping her casting. That was when he fled to the outskirts of camp and debated if he should stay or not.

She sat down next to him with an exasperated huff. "Serves the disgusting creature right. I was ready to gut him, and after seeing what he did to his wife… Well, it was justice."

Reluctantly he gave in to his curiosity, "What do you mean?"

Her lips thinned and her eyes got that dangerous feral look, "You didn't see the bruises, welts and old scars on her. So I'd say he got what was coming to him. Thankfully her family is taking them in."

It still didn't help, he was a templar, even if he never took the formal vows, he was a knight and had taken those vows. His actions weren't that of a knight or a good man, which he thought he was. And as usual, he couldn't hide what he was feeling from those knowing blue eyes.

"Alistair", he wondered how she could fit so much into just his name, "We all have dark shadows in us all. Maker knows, you've seen enough of mine, and yet you still love me despite that. Why do you think I'm going to stop loving you for acting on your convictions?"

Hunching in on himself, he couldn't look at her as he spoke hoarsely, "You said I'm the brighter half of your soul. How can I be that with what I did?"

Lana's answer was a soft kiss, there was nothing gentle or sweet about it, particularly as she ended it with a light nip on his lower lip. He growled, "Run. Go. You don't know what you're doing."

"I won't run from you, Alistair. Ever."

She kissed him again, and this time he pulled her down and against him. His kiss back was savage, full of hunger and need. He lightly nipped his way down her throat and growled, "I want to hear you scream."

And she did, his name again and again intertwined with don't stop as they both learned that no matter how much he gave into his darker passions, he would never hurt her, which was his greatest fear.