They stayed in Fenris' mansion for several days, Anders patiently tending to the elf as he always had. Fenris was functioning, but it was mechanical; he was still grieving, in his own way, and Anders tried to give him room to do so. Their days were quiet; Anders would usually go to the market to buy food, and Fenris would work on his reading, and two times a day they would do their sessions. At night, they would talk quietly in their armchairs in front of the fire about whatever came up: the first night, it was how little Kirkwall had changed. The next, they touched briefly on their favorite memories of Hawke.

"I rather liked it when she told me to just hand over the maps she needed for the Deep Roads," Anders admitted. "It annoyed me that she thought she could threaten me, but I thought it was funny because it seemed so out of character."

"You would be right in that assumption," Fenris said, sipping his wine. "She actually debated how to approach you before we reached your clinic. I…might have encouraged her to be bolder than she normally was."

"Ah, so I have you to thank for that lovely introduction!"

"You could say that," the elf said, smiling sadly. "I was rather fond of those times whenever we would all go to the Hanged Man for drinks in the evening. Even if it had been a trying day, she just…lit up whenever everyone was together. We were like her family, I thought."

"We were," Anders said quietly.

Fenris looked up at him, eyes forlorn. "Then why did she…?"

"She was sick, Fenris," Anders answered gently. "There…there were signs before you left, but it became more pronounced once you were gone. She became completely unhinged."

"Why?"

Anders sighed, sinking deeper into his armchair. "That is the great question, isn't it? Humans can lose it for a variety of reasons, but her? I think it was a combination of grief and stress. She had no family left, Isabella had run off for years before coming back, Merrill was spending more and more time with the mirror, Aveline was bogged down in her duties, and I was losing myself to Justice and the mage underground."

"But I was there," Fenris whispered.

"She might have thought you would leave after you finished off Danarius," Anders said thoughtfully. "You wouldn't have, obviously, but…she didn't see that, I think. I don't know, I can't say for sure what was going on in her head."

They were silent for a time before Fenris spoke again.

"Do you think it would have been different if I had not left her?"

Anders looked over at the other man, taking in the elf's wistful expression, and his heart sank. "Perhaps," he admitted quietly. "Who's to say?"

They again fell silent, until Fenris abruptly stood with a grunt. "Apologies then, healer."

"For what?" Anders asked, watching the elf carefully as Fenris stumbled towards the bed, shedding clothing as he went.

"It would seem you didn't kill Hawke," Fenris said, so quietly that Anders almost didn't hear him. He crawled under the covers, burying himself under the sheets. "I did."


After Fenris' declaration the night before, Anders kept a closer eye on the elf. He worried that Fenris would take a turn for the worse and would actually attempt to harm himself.

Yet throughout the next day, Fenris went about his normal routine without fuss. It was a little disconcerting, but the mage decided not to look a gift Mabari in the mouth.

That night, Fenris did do something rather odd, however.

"May I see your hand, Anders?"

The request in and of itself was odd, but so was…

"You…called me by my name."

"Yes."

Anders stared at the elf. What sorcery was this? Yet the elf held no malice in his eyes, and he was waiting patiently for the mage to either comply or ignore his request.

Besides their sessions, Anders did not Touch Fenris. Not that he didn't want to – Fenris was still as desirable to him as he had always been - it was just that he respected that Fenris did not Touch nor liked to be Touched.

Slowly, holding his breath the entire time, he reached out towards the elf.

Fenris met him halfway, and it was with surprising tenderness that his hand caught Anders'. Anders fidgeted a little as the elf drew him in closer, thumb gently stroking the inside of his palm.

"I used to read palms once," Fenris said, turning the mage's hand over and brushing his forefinger down the palm. Anders shivered, the touch both ticklish and…intimate.

"A nomadic Nevarran group once offered me food and shelter for a few days, if I earned it." He smiled down at Anders' hand, and Anders shuddered again. "Your hands are not mage hands," Fenris continued, ignoring Anders' movements. "I can feel the dips in your skin from the thorns in the garden." He drew his long finger down the line that started at the mage's smallest finger and faded away quickly into nothingness. "You were not destined for marriage. You wouldn't enjoyed being tied down."

Oh yes I would, a snarky voice piped up in the back of Anders mind. Especially if you were the one to tie me down.

Fenris continued, finger drifting further up along the palm towards the skin below the next finger. He massaged the skin there, eliciting a soft grunt of surprise and pleasure from Anders. "You seem to have a good, if easily misguided, heart," the elf said. The finger skittered down and back towards the flesh of the hand below the pinky finger. "Your head is…not as strong as your heart. That gets you into trouble quite often."

"Tell me about it," Anders grumbled.

Fenris offered a quick smile, but continued, the single finger dancing across the mage's palm towards a line that curved between the thumb and first finger. "Hmm, your life has been difficult up to now, but…" Fenris blinked, and chuckled. "Well, it looks like things might smooth out for you."

"Maker, I hope not, I'd get bored," Anders exclaimed. "What's life without an occasional maiming? Those really make my Tuesdays something special."

The elf snorted, his damned finger sliding right into the middle of the palm, again earning another pleased shiver from Anders.

"Your fate is undecided," Fenris muttered, almost to himself. "Too many variables, too many what ifs…"

"Thank you, that's very reassuring."

Fenris looked up, head cocked. "I was told I was fairly good at this. Equal parts intuition and equal parts misleading. People came wanting to know their futures, when all hands can do is show you your past."

"May I ask what brought this about?"

Fenris blinked, seeming to notice that he was still holding Anders' hand, and abruptly dropped it. Anders fought back a disappointed sigh.

"I…was feeling whimsical, and thought I would indulge."

"You know, if you wanted to touch, all you had to do was ask," Anders teased gently.

His eyes widened when the elf blushed and looked away. Well, now that wasinteresting.

"It is late," Fenris said quickly, before Anders could say anything. "I'm turning in."

Anders waited until Fenris had climbed into bed, and then changed into his tiger form, climbing into bed and curling up in his spot. He had done this since the beginning, and even in Fenris' old bed, the elf did not protest. He seemed to take comfort in having a furry form against him while he slept, and more than once already Anders had awoken to a gentle hand running down his pelt or from a friendly scratch behind his ears.

Tonight, something changed. Tonight, when Anders had settled in for the night, Fenris had scooted closer, and gingerly wrapped his limbs around the stripped animal.
Touch starved, Anders surmised, easily relaxing under Fenris' hold. It made sense now why the elf might have ventured to touch Anders; just because you feared or disliked touch didn't mean you could live your life completely free of it and be truly happy. People needed to touch one another, even grumpy elves who would probably rather swallow their great swords than touch someone they hated.

With that mystery solved, Anders drifted off to sleep, happily grumbling in his sleep as the elf petted him.


Over the next few days, Fenris became bolder in his touches, and Anders was all too happy to let the elf do as he pleased – mainly to make the elf more normal in terms of social interaction, he told himself.

Of course, it's not like I don't enjoy it when he decides to touch me. I enjoy it a little too much, actually.

It didn't take Anders all that long to realize that perhaps Fenris wasn't the only one who was touch starved. He wasn't used to diagnosing himself, but when he thought about it, it made sense. His abrupt induction into the Wardens, months on the run, and then years scurrying around Darktown did not lend to making human connections. But Maker, what a windfall it seemed now…A hand on the shoulder here to catch his attention, a brush of elvhen fingers through his hair to get it out of his eyes, and Maker, the cuddling in bed at night.

A gentle hand ran down his back, and the mage fought the urge to let out a happy groan. He was human again, but pretending to sleep. The elf seemed bolder when Anders was asleep, and Anders wasn't quite ready to 'wake up', and end the farce.

Am I so desperate for touch and affection that even the thought of snuggling is enough to make me as giddy as an apprentice who just passed his Harrowing?

The hand repeated the motion, harder this time, digging into the muscles of his back through his clothes and easing the tension there.

Oh yes.

"You frustrate me, healer," Fenris sighed quietly. Anders still did not move, and was rewarded when the warrior continued.

"I've spent nearly a decade hating you and what you are, and yet it was you who helped me when I needed it the most…and I find that I…I do not mind your company." The hand drifted lower, now rubbing into the mage's lower back, eliciting a soft groan from Anders.

"I…I am puzzled. I should not feel such things for a mage, an Abomination…" he heard the elf sigh. "Abomination," he muttered. "I must have lost what common sense I had when Danarius removed the markings if I am still hanging around something like you."

Anders tried not to let the remark hurt, but it did sting a little – even if it was no longer true.

"Bah," Fenris snorted, fingers digging deeper into the clothing and skin of Anders' back. "What does it matter? You're a handsome man, I'll give you that."

Be still, my beating heart!

"I do wonder if you are the friend Hawke mentioned," the fingers stilled, and Anders nearly shuddered when the elf's breath tickled his ear. "Are we…friends?"

I'll be whatever you want if you keep this up.

"I did not lie when I said she was the only friend I ever had," Fenris murmured, pulling away. "I…would like another friend."

When Anders finally rolls over to say that, no, he would not mind being friends and perhaps something more if the elf was inclined…Fenris was gone.
Swearing roundly, Anders buried himself deeper into the musty mattress, cursing both his timing and Fenris' ability to disappear at will.


Anders had just made it back to the mansion with a basket of market goods when he was rudely interrupted.

An accented, honey voice purred from the darkness. "You do realize, of course, that mi amora would have you watched after the last time you were under her command, yes?"

"Yes, I wouldn't have expected anything less," Anders replied. "That's why I left a note."

"Notes do not excuse you from your post, my friend," the elf said, stepping from the shadows with his blond head cocked. "Although if I were in charge, I would forgive you for following after that fine specimen of a man."

"He is currently my patient," Anders said. "I couldn't in good conscience leave him to his own devices just yet."

"Oh really," Zevran chuckled. "So the fact that I have watched you both making subtle overtures has nothing to do with that, eh?"

"That's none of your business," Anders snapped.

"Fair enough," the elf shrugged. "I will be watching you and later escorting you back to Ferelden."

"Ferelden?" Anders questioned, frowning thoughtfully. "Was abandoning my post that serious or are things falling apart back home?"

"Neither, I fear," Zevran grinned, looking like a pleased cat. "Mi amora has an idea, and she needs your…consultation for it."

"I see," Anders said.

"I doubt you do," the assassin cackled. "But I'll be waiting by the docks when you two lovebirds are ready to depart. Don't keep me waiting."

"We're not lovers," Anders sniffed. But the elf was already gone.

"Did you call me?"

Fenris was standing at the top of the stairs, looking sleepy and confused. Anders offered a small smile. "No. I was just talking to myself. I brought food," he added, hurrying over and ushering the other man back into the bedroom.

He encouraged Fenris to eat as much as he wished, though he rationed out the wine carefully. Fenris didn't speak much, but it wasn't a bad silence.

I'm starting to learn his different moods and silences. Wonderful.

"Do you want me to draw a bath?" Anders offered. Fenris glanced up from his chunk of bread, considering a moment before nodding.

"That would be appreciated, Anders."

Anders stayed outside the bathroom while Fenris cleaned up (just in case the elf needed help), and once Fenris was out, drained the water and drew a bath for himself. He didn't heat it like he had for Fenris', and once he was in the tub, sunk deeper into the water, and delved into his thoughts.

First things first, he had to make sure Fenris was recovered enough to take care of himself; physically he knew he was, but after watching his…friend sleep like the dead for three days, nearly being strangled by him, then comforting a sobbing wreck, and then dealing with an overly touchy elf, he felt that Fenris' emotional state might not be all that stable.

When he knew Fenris was stable, then he could leave guilt free.

Ah, but you don't really want to leave him, do you?

The downside of not being joined with Justice anymore was that sometimes odd voices would pop up in the Spirit's place, and they were not always welcome.

"Of course I don't," Anders mumbled, grabbing some soap and starting to scrub. "He's a former comrade and a…friend. Aren't friends supposed to want to be around each other?"

You don't want to be just around him, you knave. You want to be with him, in him, on him, beneath him-

"Shut up," Anders hissed, scrubbing harder. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

"Are you alright in there?" Fenris' voice said from behind the door. "You didn't drown yourself, did you?"

"No no," Anders called out. "I'm fine, just talking to myself again."

Silence from the other side of the door for a moment before he heard the heavy patter of Fenris walking away.

This is ridiculous.

"I am ridiculous," Anders sighed, dunking under the water and coming back up.

What's so ridiculous of wanting to love the man you've been aching for for years?

"Let's see, he has a bad history related to magic, he still thinks I'm an Abomination, he's probably straight, and he's in mourning for a remarkable woman that I wanted myself. What, about any of that statement, is not ridiculous?"

History can be rewritten. You could tell him the truth, like a good friend would. You don't know if he just likes women, since he can't keep his hands to himself. Time will help, but so will knowing that there is someone else interested in him. He's obviously interested in you!

"Enough," Anders sighed, pulling himself out of the tub. "I'm not going to think about this anymore tonight."

And he didn't. At least, not until it was time to turn in for the night.

"Come to bed as yourself," Fenris said quietly, not noticing the mage freeze. "I…would not mind human company…if it is to your liking."

It's to my liking a little too much.

Anders swallowed. "Okay."

He wasn't sure why, but this time curling up to Fenris felt more intimate than all the times the elf had been naked. Maybe it was because he had asked for him, or because of his own dark thoughts. Either way, it took some time for Anders to relax enough to fall asleep.

When he awoke once more, it was to screaming.