The next morning everything that had happened seemed like a distant dream. But real it was; I had enough money to pay rent for the next month and the papers were screaming about the events in Hightown the night before. A massacre of Templars in the Chantry – I skimmed that bit – and someone later identified as a Tevinter agent was found once a fire was extinguished in Hightown. The papers were suggesting it was some kind of grand conspiracy. Administrator Meridith blamed blood mages.

The truth was far stranger.

The events of the evening had also left me with a couple of problems, neither of which I was keen to deal with. The first was Anders. He was a friend, and he had to be hurting. I'd ask Ma to bake him something and I'd take it to him later, but I didn't know what I was likely to find.

The other problem was the elf, who hated mages but apparently not quite enough to keep away from us. I'd spent my dreams ignoring demons with silver hair and lanky limbs and was in a bad mood about the whole thing. The demons were confused and so was I. I consoled myself with the idea that I was unlikely to see Fenris again. As far as I was concerned he'd more than paid for my services already.

I looked up hopefully when my door opened, and was more than a little annoyed at myself for being disappointed it was only Varric. He nodded at the paper I was reading.

"See, that's what happens when you don't take me along when you go to Hightown."

"I wanted to, pal, but there wasn't room in the car." I narrowed my eyes, "Wait, how do you know I had anything to do with all of this? I'm not responsible for everything that happens in this city."

Varric shrugged, "An elf showed up this morning."

I snapped my head up to look at him. "And?"

"He told me you helped him out last night. He said he'll be moving in to that mansion as soon as all the police clear out." Varric handed me a card, "And that you can leave messages at this number if you need to."

"Someone summoned a rage demon in that mansion," I said, staring at the card. "Is he insane?"

"He did give that impression."

Varric sat down and I told him the whole story. Well, most of it.

"Poor Blondie," was the dwarf's immediate response.

I took a deep breath, "I'd better go check on him. Don't want him doing anything stupid."

"What about Fenris?"

I shrugged, "I don't know."

"He's going to be high-maintenance, Trip. Especially if his old friends keep looking for him."

"Don't I know it. Maybe it would be best to leave him be."

The clinic was closed. I banged on the door.

"We're closed," was the muffled reply.

"Come on, Anders. People are dying out here. They're wasting away without you." No response. I played my ace. "I told Ma you weren't feeling well and she baked you some cookies."

The door opened.

It was dark inside. Anders shuffled aside and let me in, his head bowed. I handed him the bag of cookies as I nudged a cat out of the way with my foot.

"I'm sorry about Karl," I said.

"So you thought you'd check up on me? Make sure I hadn't gone crazy?" Anders led me past his clinic to his rooms at the back – I think they had to have once been store rooms, because they were tiny.

"Well, yeah. Don't make me get mushy, I was worried about you. When the browncoats appeared I thought you were gonna lose it. I'm a mage too; I know what was going on in your head."

Anders waved me into a chair near a cluttered desk and sat on the bed with a funny smile. "I don't think you do. Oh, these are still warm. I'm going to petition the Chantry to have your mother canonised."

"I'll tell her you were appreciative." I lit a cigarette. "So are you going to tell me what was going on?"

Anders rested his forearms on his knees and stared at the floor. "I met a spirit. Not last night, years ago."

As I smoked he told me the whole sordid story. It was all a load of baloney, of course. I'm a detective; I can usually tell when someone is lying and Anders wasn't very good at it. Whatever was going on, it had to be worse than the story he told - which was pretty terrible to start with.

I didn't say any of this, of course. He was obviously hurting; I was here to make him feel better, not worse. And I don't hold the rest of the world to the same standards I hold myself. If his 'Justice' made him feel better about himself, I wasn't going to pick on him for it.

I took a deep breath, "Justice didn't make you do anything I wouldn't have expected a reasonable man to do in your place. I'd never seen a newly-minted tranquil before. I couldn't imagine what it would be like seeing someone I knew…Bethany or my father, or you."

He looked up from the floor. "Oh. I," he ran a hand over his head. "Expected you'd, well, I don't know, really. I've never told anyone this before."

"Well, I wouldn't spread it around." I grinned at him, "I'm a detective, and it's my job to get the truth out of everyone sooner or later."

"Let me know if you ever succeed with Varric."

"Ah, there we go. Anders is coming back to us." I clapped him on the shoulder, "Karl needs a proper farewell, you got anything to drink here?"

Anders considered. "Milk and medical alcohol."

I laughed, "Okay, milk it is. I like not being blind."

"Thank you, Hawke," he smiled. "You're a true friend."

"No, drink first and then get maudlin. You're doing this all wrong."

It was the weirdest wake I ever attended. We drank milk and ate Ma's cookies while Anders' cats butted our feet and had to be shooed off the table. I tried to steer Anders off the topic of the Templars, with varying success.

"You didn't grow up in the Circle. You couldn't imagine living there. Everything is about order and rules and Templars."

"I gotta say, it doesn't sound like my kind of place. There had to be something good about it though, right?" Father had treated the whole apostate thing like a game; hide and seek with the browncoats was nothing more serious than skipping a day of school. He told of his escape from the Circle like it was an adventure – when I'd been a kid I'd dreamed of doing the same thing. I only realised the danger when I was older, when I'd made some mistakes.

"Well, the apprentices, we found ways to make that bearable." Anders was getting that serious tone of voice and staring at the floor again. If he started feeding me another line about a spirit I was going to leave, I decided. "Karl and I, well, he was the first. When we were together, we could forget that we were prisoners. I never thought it would end like this."

Whoa, hold your horses.

"Wait, what? You and Karl? The guy with the beard?"

"He didn't have a beard then," Anders said cautiously. He took his glasses off and polished them nervously. Apparently for Anders sharing one secret meant sharing a whole bucket load. I didn't think he was lying this time though.

I should have shut up. Or changed the subject. Or told him I wasn't prejudiced but it wasn't my thing.

"But isn't it difficult?"

"I've always believed people fall in love with a person, not a body. Why would you shy away from loving someone just because they're like you?" he asked earnestly.

"Hey! No one said anything about love, pal." I knew I sounded far too defensive; Anders just looked confused.

"Does it bother you?" He asked.

"No, you don't bother me. I mean good luck with it. But what I meant was…" What did I mean? "I mean, how do you…"

"Err, well…" I'd swear his glasses were fogging up. He was turning red, anyway.

I scowled at my glass, "Okay, milk is not doing it for me. I'm not a cat. Let's go out for a real drink."

"I thought you didn't drink?" Anders said curiously.

"Only because I've yet to find anything in this damn city worth drinking. Today, I'm lowering my standards. As are you, come on."

"If you're paying, I'm not arguing."

At least it seemed to cheer him up.