Author's note: So this is the chapter where I really delve into Varric's anger and try to figure out what's going on. It took me several tries to get it to a place where I was satisfied with the way things played out, but I think it's finally making sense to me. Also, I threw in a little Solas action, because his character's fascination with spirits is one of the reasons I felt like they were setting things up to fix Anders and never delivered. Well, him and Cole, but it's going to take me a while to get to him.

Varric stared into the fire, thoughts ricocheting around inside of his head too fast for him to catch. A reflection caught his eye and he saw Solas sit down next to him, firelight casting strange shadows on his bald head. The two of them had next to nothing in common, so he was surprised to see that Chuckles had sought him out, then he remembered the apostate sleeping off a rift hangover in the cabin down the road. Of course Solas wanted to talk to him. This was likely to continue. He was the bloody author of the Champion of Kirkwall, so of course he was an expert on its most tragic character. Nevermind the fact that fiction was his genre of choice and he was prone to embellishment.

"He's harboring a spirit," Solas said without preamble, and Varric appreciated that at least the elf preferred not to beat around the bush.

"You noticed that, huh?"

"A spirit of Justice, I believe. But it has been inside him a long time. Years, maybe."

"Try a decade. I take it you never read my book."

Solas blinked at him. "I have not. Ancient histories are more to my taste."

"You don't say."

Solas looked back at the fire, Varric's sarcasm clearly sailing right over his shiny head. "If we don't do something soon, that spirit will become a demon. Frankly, I'm surprised that hasn't happened already."

"Don't be so sure it hasn't. But aside from killing him or making him Tranquil, I don't know what we could do about it anyway. He says that he and Justice are too jumbled up at this point to ever be separated." Picking up a stick, Varric began drawing patterns in the dirt. "Believe me, if I thought there was a way to fix him, I would have tried years ago."

"Fix him?" Solas turned to him in surprise. "He's not broken."

Varric looked at him through slitted eyes.

"Well, he's not. In fact, what he did was very admirable."

Admirable was about the last word Varric wanted to hear applied to Anders, but Solas didn't seem to notice his annoyance. He also didn't seem to be referring to blowing up a chantry.

"The spirit was trapped outside the fade and he took it into his body in order to save it." Solas held out his hands as if to pantomime holding a baby. "A noble, selfless gesture, though ultimately doomed to failure. Spirits can't exist outside the fade without eventually turning into demons. But he knew no other way to protect his friend." The wistful half-smile on his face made Varric queasy.

"If only the spirit had been as kind to him," he muttered.

Solas pulled away from him as if affronted. "What do you mean?"

"Listen, I know you have a blind spot where spirits are concerned, but this one took my friend away, changed him. Anders will tell you that it was his weaknesses that corrupted Justice, but from the outside it looked exactly like the reverse. Either way, his mistake ended up killing a lot of innocent people. In fact, it's still killing them now. The mage rebellion has taken more lives than it's saved." Breaking the stick in half, he threw it into the fire and watched it burn.

Solas frowned. "Perhaps. Either way, we will have to deal with this at some point. I should tell the others."

"I think they already know. Not everyone is as behind on current events as you are."

Solas pressed a finger against his lips thoughtfully. "There still might be a way to save them both. I know a ritual that could return the spirit to the fade. It would be difficult given how long they have been coexisting, but there is a chance it would work."

Varric chuckled humorlessly. "Good luck with that."

"I would need your help."

"What? Why?"

"I would need someone to keep him grounded through the process or his soul might get pulled into the fade as well."

Varric bit the inside of his cheek in frustration. "Ask someone else." he growled.

"This task requires someone who knows him well. You are the only one here who meets that criteria."

Standing up, Varric began pacing in front of the fire. When he turned he saw Anders walking right toward them. The mage looked as if he had aged a decade overnight. If only he had stayed smug, if only he had kept the self-righteous gleam that had been in his eyes that horrible night in Kirkwall then Varric might have been able to hold onto his anger while looking at him. But the more that Varric looked at him now, all he could see was the broken remnants of the man he had met at the beginning, the one who spent all his time healing others, setting out bowls of milk for kittens and trying to make the world a better place. Varric hadn't seen that man in a long time, and he didn't want to see him now, not when looking at him made it so hard to stay angry.

Solas stood up beside Varric, watching Anders approach with a pained expression. "It will take time to collect the necessary items for the ritual. I'll let you know when I'm ready."

The elf walked away and the movement drew Anders' attention, but as soon as he saw Varric, his expression fell even further. Barely looking at him, Anders walked up to the fire and sat down, bowing his head as if preparation for a blow. "Go ahead," he said.

Puzzled, Varric crouched down to get a better look at his face. "And do what?"

"I don't know. Whatever it is you've been wanting to do. Go ahead."

Varric punched the dirt next to Anders' knee and he flinched. "Would you stop playing the martyr? It makes me sick."

Anders swallowed, and Varric could almost see the emotions washing over him like waves against a cliff. His back curved, his shoulders hunched and then he just crumbled, burying his face in hands with a soundless sob. This was exactly the kind of anguish that Varric had wished on him. He'd wanted Anders to suffer for what he'd done and he'd expected to feel vindicated watching it happen, but in reality it only turned his stomach.

"I don't know what to do." Anders' voice was muffled by his hands and Varric had to strain to hear his words. "Everyone wants me dead, but no one more than I do. I know I wouldn't be a martyr. I would die a villain and that's probably what I deserve. I wanted change the world, and I did. But change brings chaos. You can't control the outcome." He looked up but was still hiding behind his hands, damp cheeks glimmering in the firelight. "Justice gave me a purpose, a righteous quest. It felt so good to be free of doubt, but that kind of certainty comes with a price. I lost myself along the way."

"What are you saying? That Justice was the one who…?"

"No." Anders straightened, wiping at his face with his sleeve. "I can't dodge the blame so easily. Justice and I brought out the worst in each other despite our best intentions. I don't think I would have ever done such things without him, but I'm just as culpable as he is."

Varric rolled his eyes and sat down beside him with a sigh. "That doesn't exactly make me feel better."

Anders looked at him and smiled, that little lopsided smirk that was his trademark, but it was all wistful, full of pain, and Varric just wanted to slap it off his face. "I'm sorry."

Varric turned to stare at the fire.

"I wanted to kill myself afterward, but Justice wouldn't let me. He said we had too much left to do. I started losing track of time and place as he began taking control more often. I don't even know how I ended up at the conclave. I came back to myself after the explosion, and by then it was too late to do anything."

"You really don't remember what happened?" The anger began simmering inside of Varric again as he considered the implications.

"Just fragments here and there. It's maddening. I feel like there's something important I should be remembering, but I just...can't. There was someone else there. Remember the visions projected by the rift? I can't recall that moment myself, but it's obvious I didn't kill the Divine. Someone else was responsible."

"But what if Justice…"

"No! I refuse to believe we were involved." Anders' breaths were coming fast and shallow on the verge of hyperventilation, and Varric wondered if he had pushed him too far, if he was about to get another glimpse of the spirit inside him. He didn't know what he would do if that happened, but he didn't think it boded well for Anders. But eventually Anders regained control, hands trembling against his knees as he tried to slow his breathing. Varric watched him struggle and felt his anger calm again. In spite of everything, he wanted to believe him. He wanted Anders to be innocent this time.

The silence dragged on as Anders collected himself and the storyteller in him ached to fill the space with words, to find some way to lighten the tragedy, if only for a moment. He didn't know what to say, so he just said the first thing that came to mind. "Chuckles thinks he can send Justice back into the fade."

Looking up, Anders blinked at him in confusion. "Why would he want to? Did you ask him about it?"

"Me? No." I don't really care what happens to you anymore. He wanted to say it, but he couldn't, not when he was looking at those wounded brown eyes. "He is concerned about Justice. He has a real soft spot for spirits and can't stand to see them turn into demons."

"I see," Anders said quietly.

"He wanted my help." Varric looked back at the fire. "Apparently the process could kill you." He could feel Anders watching him, the weight of his gaze almost unbearable.

"But you would rather let me die." Anders sounded calm as if he thought that was a perfectly reasonable response. He even reached out as if to pat Varric's arm in reassurance but pulled back when he saw Varric flinch. "It's okay," he said softly. "I understand."

All of Varric's anger come back in a single instant, burning through him with the heat of one of Anders' fireball spells. "It's not okay," he roared, turning on the man he'd once called a friend with no idea what he was about to do. "I'm not like that. I don't leave friends to die. Not even Bartrand brought this out in me. But you..."

Varric's hands were clenched in Anders' lapels and he had knocked the mage off balance, practically pinning him to the dirt as he screamed in his face. But Anders just looked back at him with understanding and acceptance in those damn soft eyes, lying prone in the face of his wrath without fear, and that lack of resistance made Varric want to tear him apart. But that wasn't like him either.

Forcing himself to pull away, Varric finished in a whisper. "You brought out something inside of me I didn't know existed, something ugly I didn't think I was capable of feeling, much less acting on."

"I'm sorry," Anders said again, and this time there was no smile. Anders' face was void of emotion, and Varric wondered if this is what he would look like if he were made Tranquil. He hated it.

"I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to fix it."

"How?" Anders' voice broke on that word.

"I don't know." Varric scrubbed at his jaw. "But maybe that thing on your hand is the key. Do enough good and maybe it'll start to tip the scales."

Anders looked hungrily at the fire as if he wanted to crawl inside it. "I spent years in Kirkwall healing others, doing whatever I could to help the mages without causing harm. I saved so many lives. But one act of desperation wiped away all the good I'd done. How can a few good deeds now make up for anything?"

And suddenly Varric felt exhausted as if he had been running for days. Emotions were not his thing, and grudges even less so. They were against his nature and the effort of keeping one alive for even this long was tearing him up inside. But he couldn't let Anders off the hook. Not yet. "I don't know. But you'd better figure it out." Walking away, he left him there, feeling a pang in his chest for doing so, but he didn't look back.

Author's note: I'm curious to know what you thought about it. Do the emotions ring true to you? Drop me a line if you have thoughts.