She loves watching Anders with his patients. She's never seen anything like this before, a mage just... letting their power flow, open and free.

And the way these people look at him, with gratitude, admiration, genuine friendship.

She never thought anyone would look at a mage with anything other than terror and hatred in their eyes. That was her father's first lesson: we're different, apart, always. Have to stay safe, if you want to be free, you can't trust anyone, you never know for sure. Family only.

And after he died... the lesson etched itself in her memory and soul, she learned he was right all along.

But here it's different. Children crowd around and play games, and laugh, the ones that are not on death's doorstep. And the ones that are... Anders can't save everyone, but he has many more successes than failures.

He knows how to make them smile. He knows how to heal more than just physical wounds.

Is it any wonder she keeps finding reasons to come back to this clinic?

She's no good at healing, never has been.

But maybe it's just because she never tried.

"Could you teach me?" she asks suddenly.

Anders turns away from the little boy who has fallen into a gentle sleep, as the blue glow of magic slowly ebbs away.

"What?"

"Could I... learn to do that?"

He smiles lazily. "What happened to being just a cutpurse? Don't you have a reputation to protect?"

"If you don't want to, just say so."

"I will, if you really want to learn." He realizes he has never seen her work a spell before. He vaguely remembers fire, that night in the Chantry, that must have come from her, but... his mind was on other things at the time. It's not like he was watching her fight. "What can you do?"

She shrugs. "Not very much," she admits. "I don't... it's not like I try to use magic. I start fires, mostly. When I'm..."

"Angry," he finishes. "Or scared. When you lose control."

She nods lamely.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," he says gently. "That's how it is for all of us, at first. They say that's what the Circle's for, you know? That it's to protect us. That it's too easy for us to lose control."

"Sometimes... Bethany and I used to stay up all night, and make up stories about what it might be like, to really be able to do magic, not just run away all the time. We never let anyone hear us, not even Father. He..." she swallows hard, remembering... her father had been right all along. "He always got angry, if he heard anyone talk about the Circle. He'd have liked you, I bet. Another runaway."

"Not a very good one."

Memories, clawing at him, no matter how much he wants to start over, no matter how often he pushes them away... rope tight against his wrists, icy panic clawing at his stomach, the vibrating metallic crash of gates slamming shut behind him. Reaching out for the Fade, for protection, coming up empty... nothing but pain.

Nothing but pain, and the wall in his mind that blocked it out. As much as he hates walls, he needed that one.

"Your father was right. It's not about us losing control. They don't fear that half as much as they fear losing control of us. I fought. I fought so hard, Hawke, but... you don't fight the templars. You just... survive."

He sits down, takes a few shallow breaths. It's as though he's only just realized how much he's really saying.

Honesty. What is it about her that cuts through all his defenses?

"Anders," she breathes. "It's..." she hesitates. She knows what she's asking him to do. There's a very important barrier between them that's about to be crossed.

They are breaking all the rules. No one sees you vulnerable. No one sees you weak.

But this is a place of healing, and he is clearly hurt. This is old pain, wounds that haven't healed, that may not ever heal. "It's okay," she promises, reaching for his hand. She's crossing barriers of her own. He wasn't wrong, about her reputation. She doesn't do this kind of thing, not with anybody but her younger siblings. It's been years. "You can talk to me," she says simply. "You can tell me, if you need to. Whatever you need."

He nods.

"Your father was lucky," he says softly, but she doesn't miss the bitterness in his voice. "To get away on his first try. I can't... I tell myself freedom is worth it but honestly..." he looks around the room, at the sleeping patients, or their family members conversing quietly, but she can tell he's seeing other people, in his memories, a long time ago, a place far away. "I wouldn't recommend following in my footsteps." He gives her a weak half-smile. "Don't get caught, Hawke. Your father was right about that too. If it comes down to it... better to die fighting."

But she shakes her head. "No," she says stubbornly. "You don't really think that. Because if you did, you'd be dead."

And she looks at the people here in this clinic too, and really sees them.

Someone who really thought it would be better to die wouldn't work so hard to save so many lives.

And she's seen Anders in action enough to know that he'd never take that easy way out.

She knows a little, about how the Circle really works. It's been a long time since she believed in the naive vision of a real home for magic that she'd whispered about with her baby sister, that safe and beneficial shelter that the rest of Thedas still believes in.

As she got older, thirteen, fourteen, her father began to take her off alone, away from Bethany, told her stories, of what the templars did, how they maintained control.

And the thought of Anders suffering those abuses... pure, good-hearted Anders, who can make her smile with no effort at all, who makes kids laugh... the familiar fiery anger crashes like waves in her blood.

"They never let me get away with anything," Anders says bitterly. "Every joke, every smart remark... they all had a price." He's not looking at her, instead focusing on some random point on the far wall. He takes a breath, a long pause, enough to make her wonder if that's all she's going to get out of him. And it's more than she expected or deserves, really. But she waits, and he eventually takes in another careful breath, and continues. His voice is low and quiet. "Sometimes they'd leave the wards down on purpose, during a beating, just waiting for me to slip, use magic to attack them back, so they could use it as more evidence against me. I... got good at never letting anything slip. Pissed them off even more." He smiles, but it's harsh and angry, a predator's grin. "They never liked that I was stronger than them."

Hawke nods. She understands. Her father's methods were not so harsh, but when he taught her, it was never how to use her power, but how to hide it. To stifle her abilities and deflect suspicion. To never let anything slip.

"I've never seen you lose control, you know," Anders reminds her. "And you've had plenty of chances. You already know far more than the Circle could ever teach you."

She returns his attention to the people across the room, smiling. Safe. "I still don't know how to do that."

He squeezes her hand. "Well," he promises. "That, I'll teach you."