The cave was difficult to climb to and sufficiently deserted, but Anders couldn't stop pacing to the entrance and looking out every few minutes. It was probably because it was either that or look at Neria - still in cat form, still unconscious. His healing seemed to have taken, the wound was no longer visible and her heartbeat was strong and steady, but she had not woken since they'd fled and he was desperately worried. The battle had been more than ten hours ago.

He'd cast haste repeatedly as they ran through the city, sticking to back alleys where he could to avoid the ever present Templars. He'd been lucky - the luck that had never held in all his escapes from Kinloch Hold, that he kept expecting to fail now.

You didn't escape in the end. You never escaped, truly. You were rescued.

Eventually exhaustion overcame him and he lay next to Neria and slept. There were wards at the cave entrance - they were dry and safe in the warm summer heat, but his dreams were full of nameless dread and disappointment.

When he woke he felt cloth under his hands rather than fur and he opened his eyes to see Neria next to him, long lashes resting on pale cheeks - dawn light illuminating her enough for him to see she was whole and healthy, if not conscious. He almost wept, but took a deep breath instead and reached out with his healing.

The sword cut had done more damage than he'd thought. Although the wound was healed her body had shut down in defense - she would no doubt sleep for a few more hours at least. He sighed, letting go of his worry for her, and pulled her closer into his arms. There was a difference to this escape. He wasn't alone this time. She was here.

When he woke again it was fully light and Neria was sitting looking at him with a strange, blank expression on her face.

"Neria?"

She shook her head. "She still sleeps, Anders," she said.

He blinked. "Justice?"

"Indeed. Do not worry, she will return soon. But I wished to talk with you first." Anders swallowed. The last time Justice had inhabited Neria it had been.. extremely frustrating. Helpful, yes, but desperately annoying at times. He sincerely hoped he wasn't present for an extended stay.

"How did you get in there this time?"

"We are connected," Justice said. "I can come and go at will, should it be necessary."

"That's just a little bit creepy, Justice." Actually, extremely bloody creepy.

"I would never come without her permission," the fade spirit continued. Anders cocked an eyebrow. "I would also be certain to inform you, Anders. I know how you feel about intimacies while I am present."

"And you never did learn boundaries about talking about that sort of thing, did you," Anders muttered. "Why are you here now?"

"She was wounded - I came to help."

"Well, it's nice to know you're still around, any way," Anders said. "What did you want to talk about?"

"I wanted to let you know they are coming to look for you," Justice said. "The Commander has sent one of her former companions - a bard from Orlais. The Templars do not have your phylacteries, they will not be able to locate you easily. If you remain here I can lead the bard to your location."

"How?"

"The mage, Fiona is accompanying her. I shall guide her during her dreams."

"Right. Good." Fiona was steady, and competent. And Leliana was extremely good at finding things - from what he remembered the Commander telling him. "How do you know all this?"

"Your cat was in the vicinity when they were discussing plans," Justice said. "I happened to be..."

"Pounce? You can inhabit Pounce as well?"

"On occasion I have done so, yes."

"On occasion? Which occasions? That's my cat you're talking about... "

"I assure you, Anders, the cat does not object. He barely registers my presence. And on occasion I have been able to channel power through him to assist you in battle."

"Wait.. you're the one who's..." Anders shook his head, trying to clear the information overload. "Ugh. Well. Thank you, Justice. We appreciate it, truly. Can I have Neria back now?"

"She still sleeps. But I will depart, yes."

"How can I be certain you're not lurking in there all the time?"

Neria's expression grew pained. "Anders, I am the spirit of Justice."

He narrowed his eyes. "Yes, but you've been hanging around us for too long. I don't entirely trust your motives."

"Ask Neria. She can feel when I am here. And before you ask, I cannot enter other humanoids - I do not share a link with them as I do with Neria."

"What about Pounce?"

"Cats are different. They are vulnerable to possession, surely you know this?"

He looked away, remembering Mr Wiggums. "Yes. I suppose I do. I'm sorry, Justice. It's just a little bit much to take in, that's all."

"Remain here if you can. I shall direct the mage and the bard to you. It should not take long."

"I know I excel at finding hiding places," Anders said, "but there's a chance we'll be discovered, in which case by the time they get here we'll be gone..."

"I will endeavour to keep track of you," Justice said. "Now I must depart, she is waking."

"She'd probably like to say hello, you know."

"I shall leave her an impression of my visit."

Neria's head flopped forward for a second and Anders lunged toward her, worried that she would fall, but she caught herself before he could and blinked a few times.

"Justice?" she said, and there was a plaintive note in her voice that touched him.

"He's gone," he said. "He's going to help. Maker, Neria, I was so worried..." he completed his movement and clasped her in his arms, cradling her small form against his. She sighed against him.

"Was I hurt?" she asked after a moment. "I remember a sword cut.." she pressed her hand to her side, where there was a gash in her robe.

He nodded. "Healed up now," he said softly, kissing her ear.

"Where are we?"

"A cave about twenty miles out of Val Royeaux," he replied. "Justice says if we stay put Fiona and Leliana will find us - they're already looking apparently."

"What about the Templars?"

"Well, we can assume they are also looking. Without our phylacteries they'll be looking blind though, which is a relief."

"Are we safe here?" her voice was small, vulnerable and he pulled back a little to look at her face, wondering what (apart from everything) was wrong. She was usually stronger than this. Her lower lip was caught between her teeth and her dark eyes were glistening and he realised suddenly that what was second nature to him was totally alien to her. He'd spent years like this - in caves, dirty inns, back alleys and haylofts, trying to dodge the inevitable capture. Her escape had been legitimate and the Templars she knew had been protectors rather than hunters. Templars like Cullen had been before the rebellion.

He wondered what she would have made of Biff and Rylock and her buddies, shuddering to think of what she might have suffered at their hands if she'd been in his place on a few notable occasions. A few of the Templars who had captured him were as far removed from Cullen's nervous kindness as it was possible to get.

"Hey, we'll be fine," he said, stroking her hair and squeezing her a little tighter. "I've set wards at the entrance, no one's getting in here without us knowing. We just have to keep our heads and wait."

She chuckled helplessly. "I've never been good at waiting." He grinned and started kissing the tips of her ears. One good thing about being stuck here, they were in private, and they had no demands on their time. His mind started going to all sorts of delightful places, thinking of what they could do while they waited.

Her voice interrupted his reverie. "I ah.. Anders I saw Irving fall. Before we left."

He stopped, remembering the rush of mana he'd received. "Yes," he said softly. "And Greagior fell too, defending him."

She sighed and reached up to stroke his cheek. "I'm so sorry," she said.

He shrugged. "He was an old man. And I'm sure Greagior would have preferred to go the way he did rather than locked up in a cell going mad."

"Don't you wish..." she started, but he put his fingers on her lips, tracing them and stopping what she was about to say.

"It's not important," he said, stroking her lip with his thumb, his hand trailing over her cheek to cup her the back of her head and pull her forward for a kiss. But he could see the old man in his mind's eye, his last act to give... his son.. a gift that would help him escape. The irony was not lost on him.

Neria captured his attention then, and he spent the next little while trying to pretend that the last twenty-four hours had never happened.