"You should probably go find Blondie," Varric said as they trudged back along the docks. It had taken them some time to get back to the city from the isolated cavern system between the city and Gallows.

"I know," she quietly sighed.

"He seems to suffer so greatly," Merrill said, shaking her head. "I feel badly for him."

Hawke held her tongue, Anders' voice somewhere in her thoughts chiding the elf for her own drive to become an abomination all her own. But how he had looked in the caverns - he had nearly killed the young mage they'd saved from the templars. Rolling over her thoughts, she gradually said, "I'll go down to him."

"He brought it on himself," Fenris countered, eyes dark. "We should have killed him."

"Didn't Rivaini have something for you?" Varric asked, slipping his hand into Merrill's arm and directing her towards Lowtown.

"Me?" the elf asked, expression blank. It dawned on her soon enough, and her vibrant eyes lit with mischief. "Oh me... yes - yes she did! Thank the Creators you remembered for me!"

"That's what I'm here for, Daisy." Varric chuckled a bit, waving to Hawke once more before they disappeared.

The doors to his clinic were shut when Hawke stepped out from the cellar stairs into Darktown. The locks were cheap though, easily picked. Inside, the light was low, and she could hear Anders in the small room he kept for himself in the back. There was a crash and splinter of crushed wood, and she strode across the clinic to the doorway.

"...lying in wait far too long," Anders said to himself, fractured to reveal his spiritual cohort, his voice not his own. "More suffer yet, stalling this way!"

Hawke didn't move from her place by the door. When he turned, he immediately saw her, glowing sockets seeing without eyes.

"You," he grumbled, but stepping towards her, he shuddered and collapsed on himself. Clutching his head as he cowered, Anders made a tortured sound. "What are you doing here, Marian?"

"I think I sprained my ankle," she casually said, lifting up her foot. "And you're the best healer I know?"

Anders' head snapped aside, and he cracked his shoulders, though his voice was small, "How can you just say that? How can you just be this way after... after what I've done."

"You're right, it's probably not that bad," Hawke murmured. She linked her hands at her waist, watching him as he exhaled out, hands tensing and unclenching.

"I couldn't let you run away like that."

"I almost killed her!" Anders said, shaking his head as he came closer. "All the work we do, and I bloody well toss it to the sharks."

"We found the proof that the tranquil solution was never even entertained by the Chantry. And Ser Alrik is dead," Hawke quietly said. "That's an improvement. You're always telling me sacrifices need be made to liberate your fellow mages."

"I know," Anders shuddered, covering his face as he slumped own onto the small bed. "How is it fair to those who get trodden underfoot though? Is there any right in determining who is the lamb and who is saved?"

Hawke sighed softly, moving in front of him and pulling him in against her abdomen. Anders shuddered, wrapping his arms around her waist as he buried his face in her womanly cures. "You need to listen to yourself more often, my dear."

"Oh? Don't think I am unawares of how contradictory I can be," he said, his voice muffled. He sighed against her, arms tightening to pull her flush against him. "Maker, what am I doing?"

Hawke tangled her fingers in his hair, "What you think is right? If the templars didn't squeeze, the mages wouldn't pop like pimples."

"Lovely, Hawke," Anders wryly said, eyes still closed against her body.

"That's me, sweet, lovely me," Hawke grinned as he looked up to her. "In the end, that girl is free. You didn't hurt her. A little fear can go a long way."

Anders' eyes fell shadowed, and he looked away, "But I wanted to, Marian. He wanted to. And he is me."

"I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together," Hawke softly hummed.

"What?"

"Nothing," she plied the back of his neck like one might a cat. He reacted with similar action, exhaling heavily. "Just that we all have our demons inside. I cannot count the people I've killed, I cannot know how my actions weigh in the world... we all have influence. But if we act with conviction and passion, I believe we find our way."

Anders' arms fled up her back, snagging in the straps of her armour to pull Hawke down into his lips. His kiss bruised, rough with need as she crumpled into his arms. When her lips parted, he pulled at the straps, bits of her cuirass and belts flicked away, until he'd revealed enough skin that his mouth could latch on.

When Anders bit her breast, Hawke gasped in, closing her eyes as his mouth and teeth plied, his hands still ridding her of clothing - though her hands moved too. There was the rip of cloth as her undershirt tore, but their mouths were together again, and Hawke crawled into his lap, whipping away the belt around his waist as she did. Smiling devilishly, Hawke snapped it like a whip, and he just shook his head, cupping her face to kiss her again, scarce giving her time to breath.

"I don't deserve this," he panted as she pushed him back against the wall, his legs hanging off the small cot.

"Well I want you anyway, so there," Hawke replied, her nails down his chest and stomach before teasing between them and eliciting a shuddered sound. "And this too, mm?"

Hawke kissed him again before he could reply, letting her weight down to envelop him. Anders clawed up her back, red lines left on her skin as he thrust up into her, drawing a moan into the kiss. Planting her hand against the wall, she met his thrusts, grinding together and tensing her thighs. He softly panted as she fell into his neck, biting and catching his hair in her hand, and his voice grew rougher.

"Maker..."

Planting her lips by his ear, Hawke pulled at the skin with her teeth before panting out a reply of her own, their bodies rising together. Her fingers tightened in his hair, and his own gripped her ass, holding her firm as he drove up into her.

In a frantic thrust it was over, and Anders shuddered as she panted for breath. He clutched her body close, trembling more intensely as he hid his face in her breasts. Hawke tried to catch her breath, hands smoothing through his hair as she blinked in the dim light, aware of the quiet sound of his sob against her.

The clay vase tumbled off the table as Hawke slipped, cursing under her breath as she moved to catch it too late. In the process, she knocked the table over with her, the papers and books on it peppering her as she lay on the ground. She hiccupped, laying on the ground as her mabari roused and started barking. There were sounds upstairs.

"Who is there - Marian? Marian, come here."

"I am here, mother," Hawke drawled from her place on the floor, pushing away her dog as he bathed her face. "Worry not, his grace and I will keep the ruffians away."

The lamp Leandra held lit the wide chamber as she came downstairs, "Dear, are you al - you're drunk again. Grace, go lay down." The mabari moved about excitedly before trotting back to the fire as she clapped her hands.

"Really sweet mother," Hawke replied, getting up and making more noise in the process. The table fell again. "Drunk has such negative connotations."

Leandra sighed, and tried to support her weight. Anders appeared in the doorway from the library, his appearance dishevelled, "Would you help me, dear? She's going to wake the house. That poor Orana works herself to the bone, she needs what little rest she takes."

"Hey, it's my favourite mage," Hawke gushed, before her head lolled onto Leandra's shoulder. "Sorry, mother. Bethany is a very close second, cross my heart."

"Where have you been," she asked, furrowing her brow as Anders took most of Hawke's weight.

"In a bottle," Hawke hiccupped, her head hanging down. "Everything is so dreadfully heavy. But I had to go up-coast."

"In this state," Leandra sighed, and they guided Hawke up the stairs. "Keep her from falling?"

"I should have gotten you to join us after," Hawke said, her eyes closed as she leant into Anders, her face mushed in the feathers on his shoulder. "You're so soft, much better than a table or the floor."

"Only ever have to ask, love," Anders chuckled oddly, helping Leandra to strip Hawke out of her soiled vestments.

"I didn't think you'd want to," Hawke slurred. "Merrrrill you know. But I kept it. I kept that thing she wanted. It's here somewheres, we cannot let her have it. My precious, where are you?"

"Come on," Leandra sighed, and they poured Hawke into the bed.

"You didn't help her with the mirror?" Anders said, brushing her hair from her face. He took the glass of water Leandra gave him, and held it while Hawke drank it all.

"Goodness, no," Hawke replied, exhaling out as she lay like a rag doll on the bed. "There was a big stick monster. Dalish thing. It smelled like earth and bit like rose thorns. But it might be dead now. And I don't think Merrill likes me anymore." Her words trailed off as she passed out.

Leandra sighed, sitting on the end of the bed as Anders pulled the covers around Hawke, "Thank you, dear. I'm sorry she woke you."

"It's alright," he said, waiting for her. They looked on Hawke again before walking out of her room. He ran a hand over her face, "Wasn't sleeping in the most comfortable place."

"Asleep at the desk again," Leandra tsked and touched his arm. "You worry me as much as her, sometimes. You need to take care of yourself."

"That's very kind of you to say," Anders looked down, chuckling quietly. "Not enough hours in the day, though."

"Well we're up," Leandra sighed, slipping her hand in his arm. "Come sit and have some tea."

Sitting in the dark kitchen, Anders stoked the fire into flames again, putting water over it and making their tea before joining Leandra. "Thank you for making me feel at home here."

"I see how my little girl looks at you," Leandra said tiredly, tearing some bread and giving him half. "You take care of her, for all the cautious words you send her way. And she is more at ease knowing you are close and safe. Malcolm used to be like you - telling me I was better off without. Kirkwall was a much different place in those days. The Gallows were another world entirely."

"I forget sometimes that her father was a mage," Anders smiled weakly, looking sideways. "Times are different now. What wasn't safe before is a much greater risk now. For all I love her, I... I always worry."

"I doubt you could dissuade Marian if you tried," Leandra grinned.

"Oh I tried, I assure you," Anders replied, eating some of the bread. "Now, I don't know what I'd do without her."

"You are a person like any of us, Anders," Leandra said, putting her hand over his. "It warms my heart when I see the two of you together. Well, not on nights like this but..."

Anders chuckled, expression softening, "Thank you for saying so. I wish it were true."

"You are too hard on yourself," Leandra stood, drawing him close to kiss his brow. "I hear of the good things you do. Of your struggle. And Bethany speaks very highly of you. But I am too old for these hours and must get some rest. Thank you for looking out for my daughter the way you do. And get some sleep yourself. You need it, dear."

"I'll see if she's left me any room," Anders chuckled, looking in his cup as Leandra shuffled away in her nightgown.