Anders sat on the dirt floor of his undercity clinic, his back propped up against the flimsy wooden wall across from the doors. This place had once been a pub, but it had fallen to ruin long ago. Now it was a second hand safe haven for anyone seeking help and healing. His staff resting across his lap, he was sleeping. With all of the time he spent aiding Allora, or helping apostates and hiding from Templars, this was usually the only opportunity he had to be here. Of course, he was always tired from such busy days. So he often slept while he waited for patients, always stirring and looking after them the moment they arrived. It was rough, but, to him, worth it.
He started awake when he heard someone stumbling in through the door. Rubbing his eyes and getting to his feet, he expected to find a refugee who had been wandering around the collapsed mining tunnels, scrounging, when some of the rubble shifted resulting in a broken wrist. Or something to that effect. What he saw when his vision cleared nearly made him dizzy. Sebastian stood trying hard to catch his breath with Hawke limp in his arms, barely breathing at all. Behind him, Fenris suddenly appeared, even more out of breath than Sebastian.
"What happened?!" He cried, heart suddenly heavy. He saw the arrow, but could not quite grasp how it was possible.
He took her from them and brought her to the nearest table, setting her down with care. Turning, he rummaged through a nearby crate, pulling from it lyrium potions.
"Choir boy hit her..." Fenris said breathlessly.
Sebastian, who had caught his breath by then, looked down in shame and sorrow.
"It was a mistake. I thought... I thought she was an enemy. I could not see it was her."
Anders had come back to her side, his hand on her forhead. Her skin was cold, her pale complexion ghastly. His voice trembled as he told them her odds.
"She's very weak. I don't know if I can..."
"You had better try." Fenris growled, finally recovered.
Anders shot him a stern look, "Of course I will try..."
Magical energy swelled in his hands, and he released it on her. It was a spell he used in battle when an ally began to falter with fatigue. It was meant to help invigorate her waning strength and steel her for the next step. He could not repair the damage while the arrow remained. Her fate would be determined when he pulled it from her body, though. He felt incredibly unsure of himself and paused to warn the others.
"If... There is anything you wish to say to her, now would be the time. When I remove..." he stopped, "Either she will be strong enought to bear it, or we will lose her."
Sebastian took the chance to speak first, eyes watering with such regret, he could hardly take it.
"I pray you can hear me. Whatever happens, I want you to know I truly am sorry. I would trade places with you if I could. I made you a promise. And, I not only broke it, I defiled it by hurting you myself. I would do anything to earn your forgiveness."
Stepping forward, he reached out and gave her hand a squeeze. He then moved away, allowing Anders to have a few words.
Gently caressing her face, he spoke encouragingly, "Just hold on for a little longer. I will stop the pain and heal you. You'll be alright. You'll be stirring up trouble again in no time," he smiled gently "Albeit, more carefully from now on, I hope."
He loooked to Fenris, who had been shifting from one foot to the other, uneasy. Fenris stared back with a disapproving expression, something Anders might have used to exasperate him with by claiming he was jealous. If not for the current circumstances. Sebastian nudged him foward, prompting him to say something. Fenris looked down at her, his expression shifting to a calm sadness, a look neither man had ever seen him make before. He rested his hand over hers.
"Hawke. You are my closest friend. I'm not sure what I would do without you. Don't you die on us."
He took his hand from hers, but he did not step back. His eyes moved to Anders expectantly. Sighing, Anders proceeded to unbuckle the leather straps to her chest plate, careful not to move it. Pinning it in place, the fingers of his right hand wrapped around the arrow. He took a deep breath closing his eyes for a moment in his own silent prayer.
With a sharp jerk he pulled it up and through the chestplate exactly as it went in, the armor being the only thing that had given her this fighting chance. He was very relieved when he saw the arrowhead still attached to the shaft. She bagan choking on what little breathing she could manage and he quickly pushed the metal plate away. With the arrow gone, blood spilled through the puncture into the dark blue robe she wore beneath. It had a row of buttons leading from her neckline to her waist.
He hurriedly ripped them undone, exposing the fatal injury so he could focus the magic to it. He cupped both hands over it, pushing the magic into her breast as her heart pounded wildly in distress. Before long, her choking ceased. But, soon after, so did her breathing. Feeling her struggling heart as it fought to keep beating, he did not give up. Death was closing in on her and he refused to let it have her.
Removing one hand, Anders popped the cork on a potion and downed it, never minding the blood left on the vial as he dropped it. His tiring energy restored, he placed his hand back in place and put more into his magic than he'd ever before. Against the nearly inevitable, his persistence and dedication paid off. She drew breath and her heart beat became steady. Both were weak, but there.