Shell Shocked

Sekhmet just stood there for a moment in shock, nausea built in the pit of her stomach. Since she had attacked Gamlen things between her and mother had been tense but this, to hear it, was too much. And her mother stood there silently, actually waiting for a response.

Had she thought her mother would ever forgive her for Papa's death, or wouldn't blame her for Carver's as well? It had been upsetting enough to hear her mother scream it at her that day, as her brother's body lay broken and bleeding at their feet, but she hadn't truly believed her mother had felt that way.

It all rushed back at her again, the emptiness, the loneliness of realizing that not even her own mother wanted her. After all the months trekking across Ferelden and the months she had spent fighting for survival since arriving in Kirkwall she had nearly forgotten it. It was amazing how heavy words can be, heavy enough to strain any bonds at all, heavy enough to crush a spirit under, heavy enough to crush a fledgling hope into grit and dust.

Digging deep inside of her she looked for the anger, that powerful drug that had bolstered her through so much in her life since Papa's death. It was gone though, missing or all used up, either way there was nothing left, she had nothing left, nothing to give, nothing to take and nothing to show. Her mother's amber eyes stared at her still, and her mother seemed to have anger aplenty as she glared daggers at Sekhmet. The sharp points tearing into her heart and ripping more of it away.

She felt like the shell of an egg, hollowed out and ready to crack. She needed to get out, to get away. She needed a drink and maybe a decent lay, but first she would answer, give her mother the satisfaction she seemed to need.

"Don't you think that if I could bring Carver back for you I would? That if I could trade my life for his I would? I know I'm not the one you wanted to live, I know it would never have been me, and I'm sorry but I'm all there is and I'm doing the best I can." She turned and left Gamlen's tiny, grubby shack quickly not able to stay, she was near tears and could ill afford them.

Outside the door the cool air of the night felt good on her heated face. She paused at the top of the stairs taking a breath before she started down them, not quite running, Tyr keeping pace beside her. The door came banging open after her, "Sekhmet, wait."

It was Bethany, looking to mend fences…again. "I'm alright, Beth."

"She doesn't mean it, she's just hurting." Her sister's voice was wheedling and tinny in her ears, she didn't want to hear it. Beth just couldn't understand the way things worked in the family, how they had worked since she had carried Papa's lifeless body home.

"I know very well how mother feels." It was so hard not to be bitter, but Beth didn't deserve it and so she curbed her tongue the best she could.

"Do you? Do you really? You've been gone, it's just been the three of us, and then she gets us all together finally and has us together for less than a day before Carver dies."

At least they'd had each other; she had ranged up and down Ferelden alone. "As I said I know how she feels. You should go back, I don't know when or if I'll be back tonight."

"Looking for a bottle to crawl into or perhaps a bed?" Her words were sharp, reproving. That was alright, Bethany could look down on her too, Maker knew everyone else did.

"Maybe a few" She responded flippantly before dashing the rest of the way down the stairs and disappearing out into the night.


She had every intention of heading over to the Hanged Man and drowning her sorrows and guilt with Varric but somehow she found herself in Darktown. She was looking for a fight and found several before she collapsed in a heap on the floor and started trying to find a piece of calm, to find a center that seemed to have spun farther and farther away from her since she had returned to Lothering.

She had almost been happy traveling Ferelden, no specific agenda other than to change scenery and the faces of those around her as often as possible. No one to be disappointed with her or hate her for her failings, no one who even knew her many failings. And she had reveled in that freedom; no one thought anything of an armed woman traveling. If they tried something and she wasn't interested she was more than able to protect herself and if she was interested there was no worry some sordid tale would make it back to her brother's ears.

How many fights had the two of them had over her exploits? Too many to count. "Do you have to let all my friends fuck you? It's bad enough knowing your sister is the town slut without hearing that all your mates have had her." "I thank the Maker everyday that father isn't alive to see what a disgusting disappointment you are." And on and on and on, Carver was always ready with anger and criticism and loathing. It was one of the reasons she had left in the first place.

But when she had heard about the Blight she couldn't stay away. She had tried for a few days but the knowledge that they were in danger and she could help ate at her until she had turned back home, back to Lothering with all its baggage and recriminations. Back to the home where she was no longer wanted or needed, back to the home she had barely missed since she had left. Papa would be angry with her if she didn't head back, and so she found herself standing at the door of her old home with her brother glaring at her and asking what she wanted, that they didn't have anything for her.

She ignored him and moved into the house, pleasantly surprised when Bethany had pulled her into a tight hug; even her mother had a smile for her. But the pleasantries had been short lived, she headed off to Ostagar to offer her services and they were more than willing to take it, they didn't even balk at letting her fight beside her brother, a secret she would keep until they were on the battlefield itself. She hadn't returned to the house but had opted to remain in the camp.

Sekhmet jumped to her feet blades drawn when she heard footsteps coming towards her. Tyr paced back and forth in front of her hackles raised, teeth bared, growly fiercely at the dark haired man that approached her. He was sallow and barely taller than her, and she knew she was short though she was loathe to admit it. "That's close enough, I don't know what you're looking for but I carry no coin and I'm in the mood for murder just now."

"Pardon me serrah, but you seem to have gotten a few injuries taking on all those thugs alone. I thought I might take you to the healer. Those thugs have been stealing what little we have and harassing all of us for weeks, I know the healer would be more than happy to heal your wounds. And he won't ask questions ma'am, it's not his way. He might even put you up for the night. If not, you're more than welcome to pass the rest of the night with my family, it's not much but it's warm and dry."

She patted Tyr on his massive head and the hound sat down beside her, silent but still wary. Her wounds weren't life threatening, a stab to the back of a calf, a few slices, a bruised jaw and several other minor bruises but when she had jumped to her feet a moment ago her body had been stiff and aching. Maybe going to see Anders would be a good idea. She gave the man a smile, "Yes, I think perhaps I should see this healer."

The man nodded and pulled a wicked looking blade from a sheath near the back of his belt. "I'll take you serrah, I'm not great but I can handle a knife fairly well and have seen a few fights. If someone tries to hurt you, I can lend a hand."

He moved close, his eyes constantly on the move looking around them as they headed off to Anders' clinic. Her limp was bad and her jaw ached horribly but she actually felt good. She had worked out a lot of her frustration and the anger that had found her too late while at the same time she had actually managed to help this man and his family. And she wasn't sure why but his simple kindness struck right to the heart of her. He didn't even know her but was willing to risk his life to get her help.

They made an odd procession moving through Darktown, the small dark haired man with his wicked blade held in front of him, her limping behind him and Tyr following behind her licking her palm and nudging her along every so often. They reached the door to Anders' clinic and she put a hand on his arm to stall him for a moment.

"What I said about not carrying coin earlier was a lie." She pulled her coin purse free and gave him a handful of silvers, she wasn't sure how much it was but he deserved every copper. "Thank you for your kindness; this is the best thank you I have."

The man stared into his palm, his eyes as wide as saucers. "Serrah this is too much. I just did what anyone would have."

"Not here, not in Darktown, only you and I appreciate it." She couldn't tell him that a little kindness was exactly what she had needed.

The man swallowed and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and carefully wrapped the coins up so they wouldn't make noise when he moved. She knew he would need to be careful until he returned to his family but hopefully he would make it there and would be able to feed his family, maybe even rent them a small room somewhere out of Darktown. He pushed the tightly secured packet into his pocket and raised his hand to knock on the clinic door.

"Do you mind me asking your name?" She was curious who it was that was helping her.

"Dogan Rautio." He responded giving her a slow smile, like it was an unfamiliar thing on his face.

Faint footsteps were heard coming towards the door.

"Did you practice you father's craft before coming here?" The name was Antivan she thought, but the accent was Ferelden. She couldn't fathom how a gold-smith would end up in Lowtown.

He snorted, "I did, but what does it matter here."

"I won't forget your help Dogan, I promise." Perhaps the man could start his trade again; Kirkwall had plenty of snobs who loved their gold. She could hear Anders' shuffling steps near the door and Tyr whined quietly beside her. She scratched behind his ears and he quieted down again.

"It is sad to me that such a little thing means so much to you serrah, I will keep you in my thoughts as well. I hope you know much more kindness in the future." They both heard Anders stop just on the otherside of the door. "Healer, I have a woman here, she needs your help. She cleared out the thugs that have been plaguing the western corner by herself."

The door unlocked and swung slowly open, Anders stood there in a light weight pair of trousers and a long woolen tunic laced, as usual, all the way to his neck. His hair was a tangled mess; he had apparently fallen asleep somewhere as evidenced by how he had been stretching his back when the door had opened. He paused at the sight of her, standing up straight and dropping his arms. "Hawke?"

"Hey." Her voice was quiet as she amusedly watched Tyr push past her and started sniffing Anders before plopping himself comfortably beside the door.

"You know the healer? How fortunate, come, come let's get you settled on a cot." Dogan pulled her inside the clinic past Anders and steered her towards a cot where he gently pushed on her shoulders to get her to sit. He turned back to Anders who was still standing by the door. "Can you help her? And perhaps give her shelter for the night. I understand if you can't I already told her she could stay with us."

She would have smiled if her jaw wasn't throbbing from talking so much after getting hit. Dogan must have been a man with a lot of clout back in Ferelden because he sure knew how to throw his weight around and get things done. He stood watching Anders expectantly.

Anders seemed suddenly pulled out of his daze, but his gaze remained riveted on her, his eyes all but glowing with intensity. "Uh, Dogan right?"

Dogan nodded in the affirmative.

She could feel his eyes on her as he spoke, almost like gentle touches. "She'll be fine; I'll heal her and give her a place to sleep for the night. You should head back to your family; they'll be worried about you."

"Are you sure healer, I feel a little odd just dumping her here." He looked at her and she could see the indecision in his eyes. It was odd since he had been so eager to have her see Anders in the first place. Was Anders' intense stare what had unnerved the man, made him question the wisdom of leaving the two of them alone? And just why was Anders staring at her like that?

"It's alright I know her, and she's in no danger from me." Anders picked up on the man's uneasiness but didn't seem bothered by it in the least.

Dogan turned to Sekhmet who nodded. She didn't plan on staying long anyways. Dogan took a deep breath and quickly left the clinic after resheathing his wicked blade. Anders closed the door behind him and as he moved away from it Tyr pushed to his feet walked in front of it and plopped down again. Head down on his paws she was pretty sure the dog was sleeping in moments. Lazy thing.

Anders stared at her for another few moments before frowning, "What the Void happened to you?"

She looked away, not really wanting to discuss it, especially with Anders. "Can you just fix it then I'll head home."

He walked up to her and she felt so small, so vulnerable. She wondered if he had any idea how defenseless she felt against him half the time. It wasn't just that he was so tall, or that he was beautiful or kind, but she had seen him in action, the man was strong, powerful. A wolf disguised as a lamb and half the time she felt like another sheep falling for the illusion. And tonight she felt like she hadn't any defenses to start with, everything already stripped bare from her conversation with her mother. Why had she agreed to come here?

He stood there just looking at her, it was unnerving. Anders always seemed to be on the move to her, like he had a specific purpose for each moment of his day. But just now he was watching her, his eyes moving over her slowly before his warm honey brown captured her own crystalline blue and she couldn't seem to look away.

As he watched her his long fingers reached out and touched her face trailing down her jaw, a small blaze of sapphire light following in their wake. She had to force herself to sit still, to not shudder at the touch or turn into it. His fingers and the healing felt nice, intimate and brought blessed relief.

She hadn't failed to notice that when the others weren't around he liked to touch her when he healed her. She wondered if he did the same with them, she kind of hoped he reserved that for her; she enjoyed his touch, though it was always brief. He almost seemed to regret touching her but he turned around and did it again and again.

He picked up her left hand and tugged off her glove carefully. She was surprised that it was bruised so badly. He shook his head as he healed it. "If you keep breaking these bones I might not be able to heal them properly. You have weapons; you don't need to hit people."

She remained silent; she didn't even remember hitting anyone. He tugged the other glove free and healed the bruises from that hand as well, she was grateful she didn't seem to have any broken bones there. She watched him curiously as he calmly began working the buckles of her armor free. He didn't seem to have any trouble with them at all, finding all the necessary ones, leaving the others alone. Once he had it undone he carefully peeled it off her.

Her heart raced in her chest when he pushed up her tunic to just under her breastband and his fingers ghosted across her ribs. His fingers were so warm and she enjoyed it knowing his magic would be almost cold. His eyes flicked back to hers periodically as if he was waiting for her to protest, or maybe he just wondered what she was feeling. She was definitely curious about what he was thinking.

She enjoyed his touch and the feel of his healing magic on her skin. It was cool and she felt her nipples stiffening from the chill. Neither of them commented on it, though she did notice his gaze wandering there briefly as he wrapped a hand around her healed ribcage, closing his eyes and sliding it down to her waist.

Without a word he moved to the other side and did the same thing though those ribs didn't need healing. When he reached her waist he scowled and moved his hand around to her back but still remained silent. Another pulse of cool energy flowed out over her skin following Anders' fingers. He was so slow, so gentle and careful it was hard not to imagine him as her lover. He had never touched her this much, had never been this silent when he healed her in the past.

It was nice, a balm, for a little while at least she could pretend that someone cared for her, that someone wanted her, even if she knew it was a lie.

Apparently satisfied he stood back releasing her tunic to cover her again. Without hesitation he reached for the buckles on her hips securing her armor to her legs. When they were free he grabbed it on both sides near the back, without a word she lifted her hips for him and he slid them off carefully pausing where the blood from her injured calf was making the leather stick and peeling it gently from the skin. When he reached her boots he paused long enough to discard them before pulling her armor completely off.

Even though she was still dressed she somehow felt naked under his intense gaze. His eyes roved over her quickly before returning to her leg. He slid the loose leg of her trousers up over her calf and probed carefully around the wound. His fingers settled just under the wound and she watched the sapphire energy swirl from his fingertips and flow over her leg into the wound, longer this time than the other injuries but when it looked healed his fingers skimmed down her leg towards her ankle while the other cupped behind her knee.

He bent her leg a few times before moving so one hand was behind her ankle and the other gripped her foot lightly. He watched her face as he pointed and flexed her foot checking for stiffness or pain. He must have been satisfied because he stood up. His fingers reached for the laces on her tunic then he paused.

Sekhmet watched him carefully. She had never had giddy crushes on boys when she was younger, she never understood what all the fuss was about, mostly she just thought the other girls were ridiculous as they tittered and swooned over this boy or that. Even when she was older she had no problem spotting an attractive man, but it was almost a detached, clinical appreciation.

Having met Anders though, she wondered if perhaps she was just a late bloomer. Seeing his tall slender form even from across the room made her heart pick up. Watching him walk, those long legs eating up the ground sent tingles down her spine. His voice seemed to demand her attention; even in the crowded din of the Hanged Man she could catch his voice from across the room. He had beautiful, full and expressive lips, almost like a woman's. And his eyes were so warm, so gentle and so sad at the same time you couldn't help but feel them tug at your soul.

And then there were more intimate pleasures, she loved the way he smelled. You hear how people all smell differently but it usually isn't something you notice. Anders definitely had his own smell though, he smelled like the Frostbacks and it made her ache. Perhaps the best though were those very few times like now, when he looked at her with that heat in his gaze.

Those flashes of naked want, desire that he struggled to hide. The ones she saw so seldom she often thought she imagined them all together. There was heat there now though; if she hadn't already been sitting her knees might have given out on her. She held his gaze, that hungry wolf stare, not wanting to break the moment, wondering if he would press forward. His fingers tugged at the strings tying her tunic together and it easily came untied. His fingers dragged down one lace again and again.

She wanted to nod, to make some gesture to assure him she wouldn't object, but Anders was like a rabbit sometimes, spooked by the smallest thing so she held still barely daring to breathe waiting for him to continue, to make up his mind. The moments stretched out as they stared at each other and he continued to fiddle with that lace, still undecided though his eyes told another story.

She had a flash of herself laid back on the cot with Anders above her, his long body nearly dwarfing her own. His long hair loose and that dazzling smile of his on those gorgeous lips, still the same heat in his eyes. The image made her heart race faster and she wondered if he could feel it tattooing a staccato beat beneath her skin. She was surprised at herself; usually in her fantasies she had him on his back.

He suddenly took a step away from her and dropped the lace he had been toying with, for one mad moment she wondered if he had caught the stray image but she saw him blinking and then he refocused on her arm. Oh, what she wouldn't give to have had a glimpse at what might have been going on in that mind of his.

She made sure not to react to his abrupt change, to make it seem like she didn't notice it. Whenever something like this happened Anders could disappear for days at a time. She hoped by not reacting he wouldn't feel self conscious and wouldn't drop out of sight again.

Instead of tugging on her lace he wrapped his hand around her upper arm over her tunic and a brief pulse of energy healed another small cut before letting go of her completely. He turned and disappeared from the room and she reached for the armor he had placed carefully on the floor ready to start pulling it back on. This whole situation with him had been odd and a little unnerving.

He had been so silent the entire time he had been healing her that she jumped when he spoke to her now. "Stop."

Even Tyr gave a short bark at the sudden noise before seeing it was just Anders and putting his head back on his paws. She looked up at Anders curiously, his brow was furrowed and his lips were pressed into a thin line. For some reason he was carrying his bedroll under his arm. He looked upset though she had no idea why.

She gave him a small smile, wanting to make him a bit more comfortable after he had helped her. "I'm alright now Anders, thank you. I'll get dressed and go home."

"What were you doing out there Hawke? It's late and you know better than to come to Darktown alone. Or were you looking for a fight?" He had her pinned with his gaze and from the look on his face he seemed to already know the answer.

She took a deep breath before responding, he was obviously irritated with her again. "It doesn't matter, I'm alright."

His scowl deepened, "Yes, it matters. Are you an idiot or just suicidal?"

She rubbed her hand over her face a few times, frustrated that he seemed so intent on finding out exactly what she had been doing. An argument was not what she wanted or needed right now. She sighed and shook her head before dropping her hand and looking at him again. "What do you want me to say Anders? I'm sorry we woke you, but I'm fine now, thank you."

He crossed to her, his long legs eating the ground between them in just three steps, a shiver slid down her spine at the sight. Gorgeous.

His voice was gruff and his brows dipped into a scowl. "Is this going to be a habit, stumbling into my clinic in the middle of the night?"

Yes, there it was, her illusion that someone cared for her shattered to pieces, as well it should be. He didn't want her bothering him, as simple as that. She turned her face away from him, her heart aching too much to look at him. It had been stupid to come here. She should have gone to the Hanged Man to drink with Varric, or even gone to see him instead of Anders, he'd have a few poultices on hand, he always did.

"No, it won't happen again." She wouldn't be repeating this mistake at least.

He must have heard something in her voice because she felt his long fingers on her again, curled around her jaw as he slowly turned her to face him, tipping her head up to look at him so he could see her eyes and it was such a long way up. "What's going on Hawke, are you alright?"

She blinked a few times willing the tears to stay at bay a while longer. All that fighting in Darktown to get herself on even ground again all undone with a brief touch from this man who didn't even care about her, it wasn't fair. Though that seemed to be her pattern, always needing the most from those who wanted nothing to do with her. "I'm fine, just very tired. I want to go home." She cursed herself as her voice broke on the last word.

He let go of her chin, his hand instead sliding down her arm to take her hand gently. "Why don't you sleep here? It'll be quiet. No listening to Gamlen snoring." He was placating her.

She pulled her hand away, almost angry that the action wouldn't hurt him like it hurt her everytime he pulled away from her touch. "Don't," he looked at her questioningly, "just don't do that." She wiped her face as a tear slipped free.

He looked worried now; no doubt he didn't want to deal with her tears. She was just another hysterical female patient he had to deal with, had to pretend to listen to, to care about. It was ingrained in him, years of healing dictating his actions more than any real concern. Not that he wasn't a good healer he did care about his patients, about their illnesses and injuries, about their pain, about all of the things he could fix.

But hysterical women, scared children, belligerent men, it all went with the territory. He had to show at least a passing concern in order to calm them and treat them effectively, but he was done treating her. So, she would leave and he could get back to sleep and wouldn't have to worry about the crazy and hysterical woman who had awakened him in the middle of the night.

"Don't what?" He sounded genuinely confused.

"Don't pretend you care, I'm not one of your sad little patients." She really was beginning to sound hysterical.

She was surprised when he inhaled sharply through his nose. "Pretend? You think I'm pretending to be worried about a friend of mine who seems bent on killing herself by throwing herself at every thug she finds? You don't usually come here to see me, to the clinic, but I hear about the white haired terror that comes down and sweeps out all the trash at least once every couple of weeks. I know that you're always alone and it's always at night."

She lowered her eyes; she didn't have it left in her to argue. She was so tired and so alone she just felt used up, empty, hollow. The tinny refrain of the same old complaints echoing in her head. He clearly wasn't going to let her leave and maybe it was just as well, she wasn't exactly sure she would be welcome at home. So she'd sleep here tonight if for no other reason than to ease Anders' conscience and tomorrow she would see about getting a room at the tavern.

She sighed again; she was being uncharitable to Anders. The man had never really done anything to her, and that was precisely the problem. She cared for him, more than just someone she worked with, more than just the man who healed her. But he didn't reciprocate, which wasn't exactly a crime. It just hurt, just reminded her how alone she was.

She looked up at him and nodded, "Alright I'll stay. I'll stay out of your hair and I'll leave before you open the clinic in the morning."

"Stay as long as you want there's plenty of room, you won't be underfoot." He settled onto the cot tugging her gently to join him. "Will you talk to me, tell me what's going on?"

It would be so easy to talk to him, to tell him everything and a large part of her wanted to. But the small shred of dignity she had left kept her from spilling out all of her problems to the beautiful mage beside her. And it was a struggle, because she cared for him, because she wanted to believe that he cared for her. It was just his nature though, he saw someone in pain and his instinct was to fix it. He just happened to be part of the problem this time.

"Just family, it's hard all of us being crammed in there, always in each other's way, no way to get a break from each other. Coming down here is so I don't end up doing that to my family. Just frustration, really I'm alright." Apparently, taking out rage on family is frowned upon.

"Still problems with Gamlen then?" Bethany had obviously told him all about her little 'fight' with Gamlen.

"No, once we got over the whole 'That crazy bitch can't live here' thing he's been pretty quiet. Gives me a wide berth, which is good for both of us. I still want to hit him everytime I look at him." She dragged out a smile and plastered it on her face for him. Gamlen had been easy to cow after their little dispute, he'd only made the one comment and when she had snapped at him had fallen silent and stayed that way.

He looked dubious, "You're always welcome to come here for a little space. I don't mind." He touched her shoulder tentatively and she wanted to scream but she just sat there quietly waiting for him to get up so she could crawl into bed and forget today ever happened. "And I'm not sure what brought about the idea that I pretend to care but…"

She cut him off not wanting to hear whatever bland quick fix statement he was about to make. "I'm sorry about that."

She could feel his eyes on her, could feel him hesitating but finally he pushed himself up to his feet and handed her the bedroll. "Not the best accommodations but I didn't finish washing all the linens yet. Or start really."

She could smell it, smell him, the thing was absolutely covered in his scent. It was going to be a long night. "It's alright, it looks warm and comfortable. Thank you."

He nodded, "Pick any cot you want," he smiled just the slightest bit, "obviously there's lots of room." He stayed there watching her for another minute before he turned and headed to his small room at the back of the clinic. He walked slowly and she was sure he was going to turn around again, try to get her to talk again but he didn't. He hesitated at the door making her hold her breath but finally walked through.

She laid out the bedroll on the cot she had sat on while Anders had healed her. She let her hair down, slipping the pins into the bag on the belt of her armor before sliding into the bedroll. His scent enveloped her and she felt another tug at her heart, no one smelled like that man. Bethany and Papa both had scents she associated with them when they were casting. Papa like fresh loamy earth and Bethany reminded her of apples, the tart and tangy ones. She remembered thinking Bethany's magic should smell sweeter, more like her personality.

But Anders, he smelled like his magic all the time, it was just stronger when he cast. He smelled like the cold water of early spring, like the cool mountain air at the higher elevations, like the deep untouched forests in the mountains. It was soothing, refreshing, she buried her head and giggled. To her Anders smelled like the thing he wanted most in the world, freedom. The mountains were always her favorite as a child and had been the first place she had gone after leaving Lothering.

She snuggled down into the bedroll as it warmed rapidly; she hadn't even realized that she had been cold. With his scent surrounding her, and the warmth of the bedroll nestled around her it was easy for her to fantasize about him holding her, curled up around her from behind, his chin resting above her head his long legs running the length of her own and further. If she closed her eyes she could almost feel it.


Anders tossed and turned on his cot. It was difficult to get comfortable knowing Hawke was so close, sleeping in the next room, sleeping in his bedroll. He was aroused, couldn't help it. He had tortured himself with touching her so intimately when he healed her, there was no reason he needed to touch her, or remove her armor other than he had wanted to. It was only with great will power that he had been able to stop himself from taking off her tunic and trousers. She had put up no resistance at all and he was sure she would have let him continue undressing her.

Even now he was sure that if he were to get out of the cot and go to her she would not turn him away which was why he was still awake, warring with himself, torturing himself with thoughts of her. The moment he had seen her he had wanted to take her into his arms, to soothe and heal her. And as soon as Dogan was gone he hadn't been able to stop himself from wanting to touch her, from wanting her. Having her alone and vulnerable in his clinic had stirred him in dangerous ways.

It hadn't just been desire to bed her that had moved him, but desire to take care of her, to provide the comfort she so obviously needed. It still stung that she thought he had been pretending to care. He had wanted to tell her how wrong she was but she didn't want to hear it and he knew it would be better for them both if she believed he saw her only as someone he worked with. The knowledge didn't make him feel any better.

He closed his eyes, trying desperately to shove thoughts of her out of his mind, wanting to try to get a little more sleep before morning. He wasn't sure whether he wanted her to be there or not when he woke up. As he slipped into slumber thoughts of her sleeping just feet away still plagued his mind.

It was wrong of him, he knew that, but he couldn't help himself. He rarely indulged in fantasies anymore since Justice had put a leash on him. But here in his little corner of the Fade it couldn't hurt, just a harmless fantasy, a bit of 'what if' to make his night easier. Justice seemed concerned that Anders wanted some sort of sordid sexual fantasy but all he really wanted was to be with her, to hold her, to not be afraid to show her how he really felt.

The two of them, somewhere far from Kirkwall, in a small secluded clearing, a stream burbling nearby as they had a picnic, alone except for the ever present Tyr, even in fantasies he couldn't manage to prise her away from the dog. It was all so simple, so seemingly harmless, talking freely about anything and everything, touching her without that deep ache. Even a chaste kiss or two, alright maybe not so chaste, but it was nothing more and there was no expectation of more.

As the sun set she moved so she was watching it with him, leaning back against him, head on his chest as he curled an arm around her. The sunset was beautiful, pinks, purples and hazy golds, and Anders enjoyed it but mostly he enjoyed the feel of her against him as they watched it.

She pulled away from him and he ached to feel her again immediately. But she lay down and tugged him down to lie behind her. She scooted backward until her body pressed against his and he wrapped his arms around her. His heart was racing in his chest even though he knew it was only a dream, that none of it was really happening. He kissed the top of her head, and took long slow breaths, and then inhaled even deeper as he caught her scent, that wild unrestrained something that he loved.

He caught her hitching her breath, "What's wrong love?"

"You'll laugh." A quiet declaration on her part.

Her quiet worried him, she was hardly ever quiet. In fact, tonight in the clinic had only been the second time he had seen her be quiet at all. "Try me?"

She snuggled back a little more, tucking her head down a little. "I hate that this only a dream, that this is the closest I'll ever get to you."

His heart felt like it stopped beating, "What?"

"Nothing," her voice picking up a forced lightness, "don't mind me, just hold me close please."

Dreams were a funny tricky thing, his own fears parroted to him from the lips of his dream lover. He ignored it, agreeing with her that all he really wanted at this moment was to hold her in the waning light.

As morning neared Justice pulled him from slumber admonishing him that there were things to be done that were more important that his ridiculous Fade fantasies. He sat up and stretched before grabbing a long sleeved tunic from the chest and pulling it on. He laced it up tight; he didn't like the stares when people saw his scar. Still wearing his trousers from the night before he opened the door into the clinic hoping she would still be there.

She was sitting on the edge of the cot bent over tying her boot, her armor already all in place. Tyr sat attentively at her feet panting happily. He felt disappointment wash over him, she was obviously ready to leave and he had hoped for at least a little more time with her. She glanced up at him and quickly looked back down. He wasn't sure, but he thought she had blushed when she looked at him.

It amused him to no end that a woman as crass as she could be was capable of blushing. Sometimes he thought her mouth was all an act. Sometimes he was sure she would have given him a run for his money in his more carefree days.

"Morning." He mumbled, not sure what else to say.

She finished with her boot and sat up, "Morning." She turned and picked up his bedroll, already neatly tied up for him, she crossed to him with a hesitant smile. "Thank you, it was very comfortable."

This time he watched the flush climb up her neck. He bit his lip for a moment and made a decision. "You had sweet dreams I hope."

The flush darkened. "Uh, yes, they were rather nice." She took a breath and seemed to regain herself. "And you? Did you sleep well, any nice dreams, perhaps naughty ones?"

Ah well, they were back to this; it was alright he had seen her reaction to the question about her dreams and knowing she had been dreaming about him was enough to keep him feeling pretty good for a few days at least. "It was a night without nightmares and that's a good night's sleep in my book."

She nodded, not bothered at all that he didn't take the bait. Turning she seemed to take in the whole of the clinic before she looked back to him. "Did you need any help this morning? I have nothing else I need to be doing right now."

He thought quickly, he wanted her to stay. "Do you mind helping wash the linens?"

She shrugged, "Sure, when do your patients start coming in?"

"We'll start seeing them come in as soon as I light the lanterns, but I would prefer to get the washing done first. I'll need them by the end of the day and if we wash them now they should be dry by time I need them." He walked over to the crate in the corner that held the dirty linens and to wooden tub he used to do the washing in.

He canted his head at her as he began filling the tub with water, a simple spell that had become a life saver in his little Darktown clinic. "You might not want to wear your armor, it'll likely get wet."

She raised a brow and smirked, "Are you trying to get me to undress for you Anders?"

He had a few flashes of the night before and thought briefly of making a comment about how willing she had been to let him undress her last night but held his tongue. "It's up to you, it was just a thought." He was actually feeling pretty good after sleeping last night. Usually he let her wind him up with her teasing, he actually felt calm about it today.

He was even more pleased when she started removing her armor.


Bethany was worried, more worried than she was willing to admit. She paced around the Gamlen's snapping at Gamlen and his muttered remarks. If she heard him say they would all be better if Sekhmet was dead she was going to turn him to ash herself.

It was well past noon and Sekhmet was still missing. She had gone to Varric's this morning but neither he nor Isabela had seen her sister. She had even gone to ask Aveline to have the guard keep an eye out for her, something Sekhmet would never forgive her for if she found out. Aveline had waived it all off telling her not to worry.

She had thought several times about going to Anders' but didn't want to interfere if something had finally happened between them. And she told herself again and again not to worry, Tyr was with her. That dog would defend Sekhmet to the death, he was a good Mabari and a great dog.

"After all the things that girl has done how can she leave us all here to worry like this? Such a selfish thing." Her mother was staring into the fire wringing her hands and muttering.

Bethany had heard enough of all this crap her mother was spouting like Sekhmet was to blame for everything bad that had happened to them. "Mother, you have to stop this. Don't you know what you're doing to her? What you, what we allowed Carver to do to her? Why do you think she left the first time? She felt unwanted. Carver was so vicious, blamed her for so much and you let him. You never stood up for her. And neither did I." A shame she still hadn't gotten over.

"Don't you remember what that did to her? She came back, she's been taking care of us, been doing everything she can so we can have a better life. You know it's not her fault Carver died. You have to stop blaming her or she might stop coming home at all. Is that what you want, for her to leave again? If it is you're on the right track."

Mother looked stricken. "Of course I don't want her to leave."

"Then act like it. Tell her you love her, that you don't blame her. Apologize to her; let her know you want her here with us. You can't blame her everytime you think of Carver. I know it hurts, I feel like I lost a part of myself and I want someone to blame but…" She took a shaky breath, just thinking about him sometimes was enough to send her into tears. "But that ogre killed Carver, no one else."

Gamlen stood and glared at her, "That ogre might have been what killed your brother but it was that bitch of a sister of yours that tried to kill me. Stop acting like she's some kind of hero, she's a murdering thief and I want her and that damn dog out of my house!"

Mother glared at him, stalking across the room to stand toe to toe with him. "My daughter spared your life when she didn't need to. My daughters keep food on our table while you spend your money on booze and floozies. My daughter's dog keeps the collectors from breaking into your house and taking what few possessions you have. My daughter's connections keep the criminal slime you associate with from hurting you or worse." Her voice rose with every sentence and Gamlen seemed to shrink in on himself.

Taking a deep breath Mother continued much more calmly. "However, if it is your wish that the four of us leave we will look for lodgings immediately." She turned and gave Bethany a smile, "Won't we dear?"

Bethany was shocked; this was a side of her mother she hadn't seen since her father had died. This strong, proud woman standing before her made her want to beam with pride. She was just sorry Sekhmet had missed it.

"No, that won't be necessary. You're family afterall." Gamlen mumbled before easing back into his chair.

Her mother smiled at her and silently mouthed, "Thank you," to her.

She wasn't sure what she had done, but hopefully her mother would stop moping at last. And though she wanted to stay and be with her mother who seemed to finally be finding herself she needed to find Sekhmet. In her room she slipped into her robe with the chainmail that Carver had helped her make. Slipping the dagger Sekhmet had bought for her and had spent hours training her with into a sheath on her belt. She filled a pack with a few provisions determined to find Sekhmet before she returned to Gamlen's. Grabbing her staff she headed for the door.

Interruption or not she needed to go to Anders' and see if he had seen her sister.

Hand on the door she paused, "I'm going to loo…" she stumbled backwards as the door suddenly opened.

Tyr came bounding in with a happy bark, licking her hand before trotting over to mother. Sekhmet came in slower and Beth was surprised that Sekhmet didn't seem like she had a hangover or like she was feeling a mountain of regret. So, she was someplace all night not drinking and probably not having sex either. She didn't seem overly dirty or beat up so where had she been and what had she been doing?

Mother hurried over to her and gave her a hug, "Oh, my darling girl, I'm so sorry." She let Sekhmet go and held her out at arms' length. "Are you alright? Where have you been, we were so worried."

Bethany rolled her eyes a little at the display but was glad Mother was being decent. She walked over and looked Sekhmet over more closely, "Yes, are you alright?"

Her sister gave a small smile and nodded, "I'm fine. Anders took Tyr and I in last night. He let me sleep on a cot in his clinic and to repay him I helped with laundry this morning or I would have been home sooner."

Beth snorted, "You sleep here all the time but never do laundry."

Mother smiled, "You'd be surprised, Beth, by the things a woman is more than happy to do for a good looking man that she would never willingly do for her family."

Sekhmet gave them a little smile but didn't say a word.