Sweet Dreams

Anders closed the bedroom door behind him, leaning against it for support. He leaned his head back against the white painted wood and closed his eyes. He wasn't sure whether to be amused or annoyed. Taking a deep breath he slowly opened his eyes.

He glanced around the room again taking in the dark wood, the pale walls and the navy drapes on both the curtains and the bed. He shouldn't be here, should have never even come inside of the estate with Hawke. He didn't belong here in this noble house, didn't belong…he looked to the wall separating him from Hawke and his thoughts derailed…what was it with the Hawke women?

He couldn't seem to say no to any of them, which was quite rather a new experience for him. He was used to women fawning over him and doing whatever he asked, not the other way around. But the Hawke women were…different. They were like the eye of a hurricane. Inside, close to them, you felt safe, felt comfortable. But when you weren't standing there beside them your life could be ravaged by the wind of their passing .

He brushed the thought aside, just another insane idea skittering across his disordered mind, almost lost in the cacophony of Justice's curiosity. The spirit thrummed and buzzed under his skin making it feel too tight. He was still wound up from their experience at the docks with Hawke. Marveling at how different the storm had been in comparison to all the others the two of them had experienced together.

And Anders could feel the spirit rifling through his memories, like shuffling papers, as he tried to find references to mothers. He wished, for Justice's sake as well as his own, that he had more experience with mothers. The thought brought a tightness to his chest. Sweet Andraste he missed Rhoswyn. Justice perked up at the name and he echoed the word "mother" in Anders mind. Anders gave a slight nod, "Yes," an agreement, an affirmation. Blood or not Rhoswyn was his mother.

Leandra's kindness, her treatment, had stirred distant memories in Anders' mind. Justice clung to the name, digging at Anders' frayed memories. He wanted so much to understand this concept of "mother", to understand why Leandra made Anders miss Rhoswyn.

Anders, with all of his reading, had no words, no language to explain the relationship between child and mother in a way Justice could understand. The spirit had no frame of reference that Anders could refer to. Justice was overwhelmed by all of the events of the day and could not understand Leandra's treatment of Anders, someone who was practically a stranger to her.

Anders took a slow deep breath to calm and center himself. Between his heart racing at Hawke's proximity, the foolishness of being in this room and Justice's errant thoughts he needed some clarity. He should get back to his small room in the clinic, away from Hawke and her smiles, away from Leandra's kindness and away from all of the temptations this estate held within its stone walls. Yet, he stayed where he was.

At length, realizing he wasn't going to do the smart thing and leave, Anders locked the door pushed himself up straight and strode across the room to the bed. He settled on it, not surprised at all to find it was soft and inviting. It had been a long time since he'd had the luxury of a real bed. His cot was functional, but a far cry from an actual bed.

He tried not to think about where he was, about how insane this evening had gone so far. He combed his fingers through his now dry hair, untangling the loose strands giving him a small sense of normalcy. The task completed he stood and pulled back the covers and settled himself in.

He resigned himself to staying awake so his nightmares wouldn't wake anyone. They may be used to the sounds of Hawke's nightmares, but he was another matter entirely. And he shouldn't be here in the first place. Leandra had taken his clothing and boots hostage, refusing to tell him where they were, insisting he just sleep the night in the estate, like it wasn't completely inappropriate and dangerous.

He wondered what Hawke slept in here at home? And was she wearing something different knowing he was in the room next to her? Perhaps she slept in the nude. Would she try his door? His gaze flicked to the door and a mad need to unlock it gripped him. Hawke was bold; would she be bold enough to try to seduce him in her own home? Was he strong enough to resist if she did? He quite rather thought if she were to come to him he'd crumble like dust and give her anything she wanted and then some.

He closed his eyes and tried hard to push away the thoughts of Hawke. Anders shook his head, he had always liked to play with fire, but this was a little too close for comfort. Being a grown man he should have known better than to play in the rain like a kid. If he could just make it through the night it would all be worth it, to heal the rift between him and Hawke. Shit, he was still thinking about her, there had to be something better he could concentrate on.

His head was cradled in the softness of the pillow, no doubt made of down. The sheets were soft and finely woven, probably linen and the blankets were thick and warm and incredibly soft like the one from downstairs. Leandra apparently had great taste, or at least decadent taste. Hawke didn't seem to care for such things. In his experience, she preferred to spend her money on blades.

It felt like his whole body sighed in relief as it was enveloped in the softness of the bed. It was nicer than even his bed at the Keep had been. And despite his best intentions he felt himself drifting off to sleep in the comfort of the bed. His last thought was that a short nap, a little doze, wouldn't hurt. He was terribly tired after all.

Light sleeper that she was, Sekhmet sat bolt upright in bed at the sound of Anders letting out a sound between a whimper and a shout. How loud had he been? Were the walls just thin or was something really wrong. She had to check, make sure he was alright. Surely, someone hadn't gotten in.

The Templars wouldn't dare, would they? Jumping to her feet she was thankful she had decided at the last moment to keep at least a little clothing on before she had fallen asleep. She grabbed her daggers and dashed to the door of his room.

Finding the door locked she cursed and ran back to her room and grabbed her lock picks from her desk. She crouched in front of the door as a more strangled cry came from inside the room. Hands steady, even as the rest of her body thrummed in anticipation of a fight, she quickly sprang the lock.

She shoved the door open and darted inside. She scanned the room quickly, her eyes probing the dark shadows but found no intruder. Anders was on the bed alone, his body thrashing, the covers were pooled on the floor and he made another of those half strangled sounds.

His legs were bare and she was pretty sure he was only wearing a tunic, but as much as she wanted to peek she behaved herself . Something was wrong and now wasn't the time to sate her curiosity. Worry furrowing her brow she crossed to him and spoke softly, "Anders?"

His hand fisted in the sheet but otherwise he just groaned. When he didn't respond she tried again, louder this time, but still there was no response. Hesitantly, she moved closer to the bed standing right beside it now, standing so close to him that she could smell him. He smelled of elfroot and mountain lake and something sharp and bitter that made her think he was afraid.

She had to wake him up, pull him out of whatever wretched nightmare he was trapped in. So, she reached out to touch his shoulder. She had a brief moment to think what a bad idea that might have been before Anders' eyes flew open and he grabbed her arms, shoving her roughly backwards. She was so surprised at his sudden movement that she stumbled and fell onto her back as Anders followed her.

His weight crashed on top of her as he landed on her middle, crushing the air from her lungs. His skin was searing hot, sweat damp against her stomach. She gawped, mouth working fruitlessly to pull in air. His hands gripped her upper arms squeezing tight. His eyes were open and as she felt the first stirrings of his magic tingling along her skin for a moment she thought he was awake.

But as she finally got a small lungful of air he remained crouched over her a little too still, his eyes unfocused and yet his magic was thickening in the air around them. "Anders?" Sekhmet stared at Anders unsure of what to do next; he seemed to still be locked in his nightmare. As she tried to catch a real breath and decide what to do she looked him over.

His left leg had a rather large tattoo taking up most of his thigh, some sort of geometrical design. She shifted a little under him and she felt his skin sticking to her hot and damp. She paused, surprised, Sweet Maker he wasn't wearing any smalls, and that was his…his…on her stomach. Oh, no he had to get off her right now. If he woke up and found himself crouching over top of her like this he was going to be upset .

She suppressed a quick grin; if she had known he was sleeping mostly naked she would have snuck into his room hours ago. Anders' fingers digging into her arms brought her attention back to the present and the almost visible cloud of magic that surrounded them now. She was in some serious shit if he let loose with a spell now.

She bucked a little and tried to shake him off her, but he was so much bigger than she was he easily held her pinned beneath him. He didn't even seem to notice her attempt to get free. She tried to buck him off again, "You know, I've imagined you pinning me down like this dozens of times. Clothed, not clothed, in a bed, against a wall, but you were always awake." She let out an exasperated sigh and stopped trying to buck him clear. "Figures you'd find a way to suck the fun out of being pinned half naked under you ."

Her attention was suddenly pulled away from Anders as she heard quiet shuffling footsteps crossing the mezzanine. This could be very bad. "Mother, go back to bed, everything is alright. It was just a nightmare, I have it under control." She didn't want her mother to see Anders like this. And she didn't want her to be hurt by an errant spell.

"Sekhmet?" Her mother's voice was hesitant.

Sekhmet closed her eyes and tried to squirm away, to wiggle out from underneath the still dreaming mage. Anders' grip tightened on her again, but this time he jerked her head and shoulders up off the floor several inches before slamming her back down. She only just managed to move her head at the last second to avoid hitting it on the floor. "Anders, wake the fuck up, please." She hissed as her mother's footstep shuffled closer.

Not wanting to deal with both Anders and her mother she tried to send the latter back off to bed. "Mother, I'm fine, go on back to bed now."

Anders bent close to her, his breath falling across her skin in little puffs, still carrying the faint smell of fruit. His beautiful brown eyes were still unfocused, his soft lips mere inches from hers and she had to stifle a giggle as she briefly thought about kissing him to wake him up. It would serve him right, and maybe, just maybe he'd let passion sweep him away and they could stop paying the damn game they'd been playing since they met.

Then again, it was Anders; he'd probably be furious, yell at her and stomp out in a huff leaving her to lick her wounds again. No, it was probably better to resist the urge to nibble on those gorgeous lips of his. Instead, she tried to move her lower arms, and was relieved to find she had some freedom.

Anders was only pinning her upper arms, even if his fingers were digging painfully into her skin. With some difficulty she was able to grasp his too thin waist with her hands. She really needed to make sure he started eating better. Anders hovered over her for another moment, his fingers flexing again, digging even deeper into her flesh. As she worried about waking him up with as little fallout as possible she heard her mother's shuffling footsteps headed away from the room. That was a relief at least.

Anders' lips curled into a snarl and for a moment she thought he was sniffing her before he made a sound like a growl as he jerked her up off the floor again. Sekhmet wrapped her lower arms around his waist and locked her hands together as best as she could so when he tried to slam her back into the floor she didn't move. She pulled herself tight against him and held herself there. Turning her face to the side and resisting the urge to nuzzle his neck.

Prickles of magic bit into her skin from his fingers and she started to worry she might have to hurt Anders to protect herself. She really didn't want to do that if she could avoid it. She turned her head so her lips were near his ear, "Anders, wake up. You're dreaming."

His body bucked violently seemingly at the sound of her voice and she struggled to hold herself tight to him. "Anders, please wake up, I don't want to hurt you." The words had barely left her mouth when the prickles from his fingers turned into searing pain. She couldn't stop a strangled cry as her muscles jerked and convulsed, her lungs temporarily seized and her heart stuttered in her chest. The pain was unbelievable; it felt as if her whole body had been set on fire suddenly. The muscles in her arms locked tight, clenching Anders almost in a bear hug.

The pain subsided after what felt like an eon. Tears leaked from her eyes due to the pain. Ragged breaths sawed in and out as her heart returned to a steady, if rapid rhythm. She had to wake him up now, couldn't be worried about hurting him.

So, she released her grip around Anders and brought her fist down sharply on his lower back near his bottom rib. The pain flared bright again for a second as another wave of electricity shot through her, her mouth filled with an acrid taste, her eyes burned, her lungs seized again and her heart beat fast and funny in her chest. Her body spasmed but it was cut off quickly as Anders collapsed on top of her.

His pretty blonde hair falling across her face as his head lay on the floor beside hers. Holding her head still took too much effort and she let it fall to the side, her head resting against his. She wanted to say something, see if he was awake, if he was alright but her tongue wouldn't co-operate.

His long fingered hands clenched tight to her upper arms for a second and she grunted as pain flared down both arms, like someone poking at an injury. His chest was pressing against hers making it hard to breath. She wanted to try to urge him to move but everything felt so heavy.

She was relieved when he groaned and started to push himself up. As soon as he had moved a little and had finally released her arms Sekhmet struggled to wipe the tears from her eyes but her arms still didn't want to work right, they felt oddly numb. Her body almost felt like she had way too much to drink, it just wouldn't respond correctly.

Anders' warm whiskey colored eyes stared dumbly down at her, "Hawke?"

She took a slow breath, her chest aching. "Are you awake now?" Her voice was very quiet; she wasn't sure he could even hear her. Oh, she wished her head wasn't feeling so fuzzy.

Those soft feminine lips of his bowed down into a frown, "Yes, I think so."

Anders was more than a little confused. He'd been in the Deep Roads again, trapped and alone. He remembered running down corridor after corridor trying to find a way out and each corridor had been narrower than the one before. When he was running down a long narrow alley the ceiling had started falling in chunks.

He had been dodging them, desperately looking for someplace safe when he had suddenly tripped on something soft and sickly yielding and fallen face first onto the taint slicked floor. As he'd started to get back to his feet he found what he had tripped over. His heart had caught in his throat and he had wanted to scream and run away.

Instead, his body turned into the room from which the twisted lump had protruded from. He'd screamed when he saw it, screamed like a hysterical woman. The oversized, tentacled, bloated, and many breasted body was bad enough, but it hadn't been what had made him scream.

It had Bethany's face, bloated and distorted, but there was no mistaking her sweet face. She'd glared at him for long minutes while he had screamed himself hoarse in the dream. And when he had finally fallen silent the broodmother, even now he couldn't think of her as Bethany, had spoken.

"Look what they did to me! You let them do this. You broke your promise." Her voice was booming in the small space.

He'd been so confused… shattered, broken and confused. "What promise?"

"You promised 'Reyna you would never let them take a woman alive." Her massive body shook as she bent closer to him. "You promised!"

He'd been heartbroken, he'd made many promises and vows in the Wardens and he had turned his back on all of them. "I'm sorry." It was pathetic and not nearly enough.

"Make it right, Anders. Make it right." She howled at the ceiling of the room they were in and chunks of the ceiling shook loose and fell at the strength of her cry.

He'd been horrified, he'd failed her, broken his promise and now she was asking him to kill her? He couldn't do it. "I…I can't Beth," he whined.

A tentacle reached out and wrapped around him, cold and soft, and reeking of taint. It lifted him easily into the air, and pulled him close to her face. "You fix this Anders or I will send all of my monstrous children after you. They will hunt you down, kill everyone you care about, starting with my sister." She spat the word sister like the very sound of it tasted bad on her tongue.

"You can't, she loves you." He'd tried to reason with her.

"Look at me? What use do I have for love, for family. I'm a monster!"

He'd recoiled at the word he used so often to describe himself.

Her voice changed, softened, "Please Anders, put me out of my misery before I lose my mind completely. I can hear their whispers in my mind they'll be here soon. Take away their prize; let me die on my terms."

It was Karl all over again. He couldn't let her suffer. He stroked her tentacle gently trying to convey affection; he buried his hands into its soft flesh and squeezed, the closest approximation to a hug he could manage. "Set me down, Beth. If I fall before the deed is done I won't be able to finish."

A tear ran down her grotesquely distorted face. "Thank you." She murmured as she gently set him back on the ground.

He held onto her tentacle and let his magic build up. He wanted to try to finish this with one blast of lightning if he could. They watched each other, both with sad eyes as his magic gathered in the air around them. At last he let it go and her bloated body spasmed nearly knocking him across the room.

When he stood back up she was slumped to the side and her eyes were closed but she was still breathing raggedly. Damn it, how could she possibly be still alive after that jolt? It should have stopped her heart. He pulled hard on his magic trying to end it quickly. He didn't want her to suffer.

Suddenly, he had felt a sharp pain, then he had been staring at a dark tiled floor. He'd taken a few moments to recognize that he wasn't dreaming anymore and a few more to realize that there was a body pinned under him. He'd pushed himself upright and had been beyond surprised to see it was Hawke lying prone and trapped beneath him.

Mind still fuzzy, clinging to sleep at the edge Anders looked Hawke over. He couldn't understand what she was doing here, and how she had gotten in. Her hair was loose and disheveled; her eyes looked puffy and a little red, a single track from what had probably been a tear ran from her left eye into her hairline. Letting his eyes slide further he saw that her tunic was up around her waist and she only wore pale purple smalls underneath. Her legs were bare and for some reason he was sitting astride her waist.

His thoughts were slow, mired in the traces of his nightmare and his lower back throbbed in pain. Why did his back hurt so much? Andraste's tits this was a mess. He had no idea why Hawke was half dressed underneath him and she seemed in no hurry to speak to him. Her clear crystalline blue eyes watched him curiously, and there was something else in her eyes. He couldn't quite wrap himself around what it was though.

He slowly realized he should probably move and get off her. An idea that was quickly put into motion when Hawke shifted a little and Anders felt the soft skin of her abdomen rub against the bare skin of his cock . He jerked off her as his prick started to stiffen.

His heart raced and he even felt himself blush of all things when he realized that standing over her like this he was exposing himself to her. He tugged the tunic down and grabbed a blanket to wrap around himself. Yeah, he was real slick.

His thoughts ran riot. "Hey, I missed you Hawke, let's be friends. Oh, but first I'm going to pin you to the floor while we're both mostly naked for no apparent reason and then for good measure I'll make sure you get a good look at my cock. No, really, I just want to be friends ." What the fuck was going on here?

He had a brief moment to wonder where the trousers he was wearing went, but vaguely remembered kicking them off when they kept getting twisted uncomfortably. He cursed himself for eschewing his smalls, even in their sodden state. He took a deep breath, calming himself as best he could, "Hawke what the Void are you doing in here?"

Hawke still lay on the floor, pale and beautiful, but something else. For some reason her body was only making small jerky movements. She finally stilled, taking a long breath and wincing before speaking in that oddly soft voice she had used when he'd first awakened. "I heard…you…scream," she took another breath and continued though it seemed like it took an effort to do so. "I thought…something…was wrong," another slow breath, "so I…came…to check…on you." Her face contorted briefly and she blinked a couple of times before taking another slow breath. "Anders… it hurts…to breathe."

He looked her over again, there were scorch marks and holes in the sleeves of the tunic she wore and the skin underneath looked red and angry and realized he must have shocked her. Oh, no, not again and he couldn't even blame this assault on Justice. Dropping to his knees by her side, still wrapped in the blanket, he held his hands over her as his heart constricted in pain. "Dammit, what were you thinking coming in here half dressed."

She gave him a weak smile, "I'm more…dressed…than you…are."

Anders scowled; he was too scared and upset to find this funny at all. His magic coated her skin in sapphire blue light and giving it a deathly pallor as he continued healing her until she was breathing a bit easier, he had damaged a few of her muscles, she was lucky he hadn't stopped her heart. "Stop joking, this is serious."

"If it makes you feel better, I didn't see anything." Her eyes roved over his face as she spoke.

Anders gritted his teeth, no but they had both felt something, as upset as he was his cock was still hard. And currently it was telling him how easy it would be to rip those pretty purple smalls off her and bury himself inside her. It'd be the work of seconds and he could end a year of frustration and fantasy. He ignored it and concentrated on healing her.

He turned his attention to her arms and grabbed the edges of the hole on one of her sleeves and yanked it to make a bigger hole so he could examine how much damage he had done. She had severe burns, some of the skin an ugly black. How had she survived that kind of electricity?

And why was his body being such a traitorous bastard. The sound of the ripping fabric had sent shivers down his spine. He'd nearly killed her, murdered his supposed friend. And his body could only think about all that bare skin and her weirdly gorgeous white hair, both skin and hair in magnificent contrast to the dark tile she lay on .

"Andraste's tits." He muttered as he began to carefully mend the flesh. He had almost ended her in her own home. Why had he stayed? Why had he let himself fall asleep here of all places? He could go days and days without sleep. He'd always been proud of his intellect so why was he so stupid around Hawke?

He really was a curse to this woman. At least he could fix the physical effects of what he'd done…this time. He'd make sure not to leave the smallest mark or sore muscle. It would be perfect.

"Anders?" She was frowning when he looked up to see her paler than usual face.

Some women were sun kissed, but not his Hawke…she was moon kissed. She was…no, no mooning, ha ha, over the woman he nearly murdered. He had no right.

"What?" He struggled not to growl at her. He was so furious with himself and his stupidity.

A slow flutter of her lashes, they were white now, the kohl that usually darkened them gone, washed away. "What were you dreaming about?"

He thought, perhaps he liked those pale blue eyes even more framed by the white lashes. It made them look delicate somehow. Anders shook his head; he had to stop thinking of her as a woman and remember that she was a patient.

He watched the skin re-knit itself as pale and perfect as before. He shifted and ripped open the other sleeve, more shivers shot down his spine. He turned his mind from her and to her question. The memory of Beth in the dream was like a kick to the gut, and finally his wretched erection disappeared. He couldn't…wouldn't tell her about his dream of Beth, so he kept it simple. "Darkspawn."

"I'm sorry." Her voice soft again, with concern this time.

He looked at her face, surprised she would be showing concern for him, especially now of all times. "Maker's blood, what for?"

She gave a one shouldered shrug with her healed shoulder. It pulled her tunic top to one side exposing her clavicle. "You're upset; I didn't mean to upset you. I was just concerned."

His eyes focused on the newly exposed skin. So tender and pale peeking at him, demanding his attention. It was a damn shoulder, why was he fantasizing about laving his tongue across the bone. The pale skin of her neck begged to be kissed, to be marked. As he continued devouring her with his eyes he saw her pulse speed up in her neck.

Did she know what his wayward mind was thinking? Were the possibilities of their current situation causing her blood to heat like his? He should remember Beth again; quash this desire before he did something stupid. He didn't want to though; he wanted to feel that pulse against his tongue.

He licked at his dry lips and saw her eyes narrow as she watched him. She was definitely thinking about the possibilities. No, this was stupid and dangerous. He wouldn't tempt Justice to hurt her. He'd done enough of that himself tonight.

"I'm upset because I nearly killed you." And because he desperately wanted to rip off the rest of her clothes and make love to her right there on the floor. He wanted to see that pale skin flush with desire and hear her panting in his ear as he worked her body.

She'd scream, oh he knew she would, she'd be a vocal lover, and appreciative. His eyes skimmed over her again, quickly. He wanted to know the taste of her, of her lips, her skin, her sex. He wanted…oh, how he wanted.

Justice's sudden anger at Anders' desires sobered him. He'd have to be satisfied with wanting. Tonight was exactly why there could never be anything between them. He was dangerous, a monster. Nearly killing the only real friend he'd had since Ferelden. And in her own home no less, what a way to thank her and her mother for their kindness and hospitality.

"I'm fine." She whispered.

This time he did growl at her, anger and frustration making his voice sharp. "And what if I hadn't woken up? What then?"

Her nostrils flared briefly. "I defended myself! You're probably going to want to heal yourself after me or you'll be pissing blood for a while." And now she was angry.

So, that was the source of the radiating pain in his lower back. She must have hit his kidney, smart girl. It oddly comforted him that she had defended herself from him. He was what…proud? Yes, definitely odd, but he was proud. Sometimes he worried she wouldn't protect herself from him.

"I didn't want to hurt you." All that sadness in her voice was for him?

He waived off her concern, preferring her anger. They both needed her anger now, needed to put some distance between each other before they did something even more foolish. He finally finished healing her arm. "No, I'm glad you did."

She sat up slowly and smirked at him. "You say things like that, but then expect me to believe you aren't looking to get roughed up as foreplay?"

"Hawke!" He practically yelled at her.

"What Anders? I don't think a little joke is going to kill you, by any means." She was trying to look annoyed but mostly she looked amused.

"I'm glad you defended yourself against me. Now you see why it's too dangerous to be around me." He settled back on his heels. He was so tired of this argument but the blasted woman never listened to him. And then they ended up in situations like tonight.

She sat up slowly and took a long, slow breath. "I'd argue with you, but I'm just too tired."

Anders nodded, anger helped keep them apart, but he'd have to settle for resignation tonight. "I'll get dressed and head back to Darktown. I'll pick up my clothes in the morning and return these."

She placed her hand on Anders' chest; the thin tunic barely shielded them from one another. His skin lit up with the heat of her touch and the warmth spread across his chest. For a very brief moment he thought that maybe he always reacted to her so strongly because he worked so hard to keep them apart.

Maybe if he just gave in and told Justice to shove it he could enjoy her easy affection and wouldn't react like he was a sex starved lunatic everytime she touched him. Justice's growl of disapproval in his head obliterated the thought. Once they were both dressed he'd get his equilibrium back.

Hawke's voice prodded him. "You need to stay. That is unless, of course, you want to explain to my mother why you insulted her hospitality by sneaking out like a thief in the middle of the night."

"This isn't a game." Anders said hotly as he stood up, still holding the blanket around him. The woman was insane. He couldn't stay here, couldn't be anywhere near Hawke right now. He wasn't in his right damn mind.

Hawke stood and took a step closer to him; there was fire in her eyes as she glared at him, she shook with the ferocity of her sudden anger. All the weariness was gone now replaced by a white hot rage that screamed at him from every line of her body. "No, it's not a game Anders, it our life. It's a shame you're too damn scared to live it." She turned and bent to pick up her daggers, affording him a great view of her purple clad ass, before stomping from the room and slamming the door behind her.

Anders sank onto the bed and closed his eyes; he could deal with being a coward if it kept her safe.

Justice finally spoke up, "You were wrong, she hurt you first."

Anders shook his head, the spirit couldn't have been more wrong. "No, I hurt us both."

He waited for Justice to respond, but he didn't. The spirit had fallen blessedly silent. Anders felt weary and worn, hollowed out. With all the months he had barely seen her, he'd forgotten how exhausting his encounters with her could be. Such an emotional gamut they always seemed to run though when they were together.

How two people who agreed on so many things always ended up in such a fury with each other was almost a mystery. It probably was a mystery to anyone who knew the two of them. He knew Hawke's anger was born of her frustration. She knew what she wanted and it seemed simple enough to her.

Anders wasn't so lucky though. Yes, he knew what he wanted but his two biggest desires were in direct conflict with each other. He wanted Hawke, in every way imaginable. He might have thought it was just about sex at first but he knew better now. And he might have even had that, but for Justice.

He wanted her safe as much as he wanted her. And because he wanted her safe he had to fight. He had to fight his own desires and needs. He had to fight Justice to keep her safe. And worst of all he had to fight Hawke to keep her safe. It was beyond torture.

And like a masochist, everytime there was any space between them he felt the need to fix it, to pull them back together. He was an idiot and a fool. Love struck for the first time in his life and now he wondered why he had wanted to fall in love so badly. It was such an awful torment.

Every so often the two of them found a balance though, a few hours of smiles and teasing and Hawke's laughter. For a few hours Anders could forget about Justice and his checkered past. For a few hours they could be close and share secrets.

It might be only a few hours, but for those few hours Anders could find some semblance of peace. And it was those hours that he lived for, those hours that made him seek her out again and again. He was a fool.

Sighing heavily, feeling the full weight of the night pressing on him Anders turned and found the pants he had been wearing hanging loosely around the post of the bed. If he wasn't so wiped out he might have found it funny that such an innocent looking garment could have caused so much trouble. He slipped them back on, depositing the blanket back onto the bed.

He sat on the edge, deciding Hawke was right, he didn't want to upset Leandra. So, he would really stay awake this time. No snuggling in the soft bed for any reason. Quietly, he waited for morning.

Sekhmet tossed her daggers into the chair in the corner of her room. She felt a momentary pang of guilt at treating them so badly but brushed it aside. She was angry, furious. And as usual Anders was the cause. She hadn't felt this kind of fury at all in the months they had pretended to be strangers and had stayed far from each other.

She'd forgotten how hot and visceral it could be. She sat at her desk and pulled out a piece of parchment, a quill and her inkwell. She scratched the note out quickly.

Anders,

I find it difficult to understand now how I could have ever enjoyed these back and forth games. This ridiculous dance we've been playing at for a year and a half. The novelty of chasing you has worn off, I am happy to say and I'm sure the idea pleases you to no end.

So please, do me a big favor. Tell Justice to go fuck himself, then kindly drop dead.

Hugs and Kisses,

"Hawke"

She dusted it and once she deemed it suitably dry folded it. She took special care to write his name with uncharacteristic, overly frilly loops on the front of it, then sealed it with wax. While she waited for the wax to harden she tugged on a pair of trousers and socks. She scooped up the letter and headed down the steps.

She set it on the desk knowing Bodahn would make sure Anders got it before he left. Tyr jumped up from beside the fire and followed her to the foyer where she pulled on her boots. She grabbed a couple of knives and strapped them to her forearms before leaving the estate.

She went round the corner and slipped into the Blooming Rose, grateful that they never closed. Smiling insincerely at Madam Lusine's not so subtle glare, she ordered herself a bottle of expensive wine and sat to people watch. She knew she wouldn't be getting back to sleep and had no desire to see Anders before he left in the morning, if he even bothered to stay.

Of course her mother would be upset, but she should be used to Sekhmet disappointing her by now .