Author's Notes: Hi everyone! Here is the beauty that is chapter three...officially known as the Thayer and Alistair reunion chapter! This is the part we've all been waiting for, and the most fun I've had writing in quite some time. ;) I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do! This is my first foray into writing a character other than Thayer in this story, and my first ever writing Alistair. I hope I did him justice for all those Alistair lovers out there. Hehe.

Lots of emotion in this chapter so keep your eyes out. Please be sure to let me know what you all think.

FYI: I am in the process of a major move, so this might be the last chapter for a little bit. If the hotel room I'm staying in while I look for a place to live has internet, then it shouldn't be a problem, so cross your fingers!

Alistair's head hurt.

No, correction. It more than hurt. It felt like someone had it in a vice, and was squeezing it tightly enough on both sides to make it explode.

He wasn't sure what time it was, nor where he was. All he knew was that this was going to be another day spent wasting away in the Hanged Man.

It had all started with that day—that infamous day that had shaken him to the core.

How could Thayer have been practicing blood magic? How could he think he'd get away with it? After having seen everything they did on their journey together? The countless maleficars who had gone down in flames due to their malicious and sacrilegious use of magic?

Alistair couldn't really remember much of what had happened to him over the last year. Hell, he couldn't even really remember what had happened to him over the last week. Each and every day more or less melded together in one long, stream-less flow thanks to the mass amount of alcohol he imbibed. At first it hadn't taken much—just two or three glasses. By now…well, he'd lost count.

When the pounding in his head finally weakened, Alistair braved opening his eyes. Yesterday he'd woken up in an alley somewhere in Lowtown. He wondered where he'd be today.

To his surprise, he saw a ceiling above his head. At least he'd made it indoors this time, he thought.

Alistair carefully turned onto his side to help get a better idea of where he was. He'd learned the hard way that sitting up made him incredibly nauseated. That had been messy. The room around him, though dimly lit, seemed to be the one he'd been staying in. He was surprised to be there, considering that he was late on his rent. Had someone brought him here?

Then he remembered last night.

It couldn't be true. Could it?

Alistair moved to sit up far too quickly in his fervor to discover the truth. He nearly threw up, managing only to stop himself thanks to gripping the sides of his head and closing his eyes. The world soon stopped spinning and gave him the ability to look around him again.

There, lying beside him on the bed, was the one person he thought he'd never see again.

The details of the night before remained a mystery to the warrior. He planned on fully questioning the one beside him on what had happened, but he didn't know if he had the energy—or the guts—to wake him up. After all, when there was a problem, Alistair usually ran from them. Thayer was the one who stood and fought. He was the one from whom the warrior had once gained courage. But all of that had changed after that one night.

Yet here Thayer was.

Alistair let out a quiet whine. He was upset, damn it. He felt betrayed. How was he supposed to continue feeling this way if Thayer had traveled all the way from Amaranthine and had managed to find him? That wasn't easy, considering that he hadn't said a word to anyone about where he was going. Hell, at the time, even he hadn't known.

The warrior carefully ran a hand over his face. Every single motion caused his body to ache. His skin felt tight. His stomach lurched anxiously.

He sucked up the pain and knew what he had to do.

"Thayer."

The body beside him stirred. The movement on the bed was gentle enough that it didn't make him feel much sicker; thank the Maker for that, he thought.

Thayer opened his bleary eyes and yawned. He stretched out upon the bed. When he finally seemed to realize where he was and who he was with, the mage sat up, his once soft, vulnerable expression turning slightly distant.

"Ah, I'm…sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep. I was just…"

Alistair's stomach lurched once more. "What are you doing here? How did you find me?"

"A lot of hard work and patience," Thayer replied, scratching his head. He pushed a few strands of his long dark hair behind his ear. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Never better," Alistair lied. In a bout of stupidity he knocked his fist against his chest. He felt a bubbling sensation in his stomach, causing his eyes to flutter. The nausea was overwhelming.

Fool, he thought.

"You've always been a terrible liar, you know that, right?"

"I don't need you telling me what I am and what I'm not," Alistair snapped. He immediately regretted it; the rush of blood through his head blurred his vision and made him sick.

Thayer kept his distance, but he laid a hand upon Alistair's thigh. The warrior didn't pull away.

"I'm not here to start another fight. Would I have come all this way for that?"

He made a good point. Still, why was he here? What purpose in the whole world of Thedas did this visit serve? Alistair had made his decision, and painful though it was to deal with most days, he was doing his best to abide by it.

"What are you doing here? I don't understand."

"Yes, you do. I can tell you do." He squeezed Alistair's thigh. "I'm here because I…"

"Because you what?"

"Because I need you, all right?" Thayer said quickly. Then, more quietly, "Because I need you. And I don't want to be without you."

"Well, you made that decision when you resorted to blood magic."

"You didn't even—" The mage stopped himself. Alistair could see the irritation building with him. "You know, I just wish you would have let me explain myself."

Alistair took the time now to slowly remove Thayer's hand from his leg. He did so reluctantly, and let go of the hand just the same. Thayer was always so warm, his skin so soft.

"Tell me one thing: are you still doing blood magic?"

"No."

The answer came quickly, but Thayer's serious expression helped sway Alistair to believe him.

On some level deep down, he didn't want to push Thayer away. He wanted to welcome him back with open arms. He wanted to hold him close and get away from this hell on Earth. Kirkwall had been his prison for over a year now, his only cellmates being his anger and his wounded heart.

Now that sounded awfully corny, didn't it?

Alistair gave the faintest of smiles that ghosted away when he looked at Thayer again. There were so many different things he felt like saying—felt that he needed to say—but he was no good at moments like these. He opted for the only way out he knew.

"You didn't see me throw up last night, did you?"

Thayer snorted. "Maker, no. But you were…well, you were quite drunk. It was a challenge getting you to your room so you could lie down on the bed. You'll notice you're still in the same clothes if you look at yourself."

Alistair did just that, and was still somewhat surprised to note that his clothes remained unchanged. He furrowed his brow. Maker, his head hurt.

"I can barely keep focus. I don't remember anything that happened last night."

"Nothing important happened, aside from me finding you. I have to admit, you worried me. You were incoherent and almost nonresponsive at first."

Alistair's cheeks flushed red. He felt ashamed, but worst of all, angry—mostly with himself for letting it get that bad. But what else was he supposed to do? It was all he'd done for months. In Kirkwall, it was all he knew.

"I'm not proud of what I did," he said after a long pause. He looked away. "I regret what I've let myself become. But you were the one that drove me there. How could you—" Alistair looked up and made a face. "How could you do that?"

"You never let me tell you why. I was trying to help us—you and me."

"How on Earth would using blood magic benefit either of us?" Alistair asked incredulously.

"I was trying to find a way to reverse the Calling."

Alistair stared at Thayer for quite some time. That answer had been unexpected, and confused him on several different levels. How? Why? What? This didn't make any sense.

"Just hold on and let me finish," the mage said. He must have noticed the paleness in Alistair's cheeks that came from his brain working overtime.

"I tried to find a way to reverse the Calling because I was scared. I didn't want to live a marked life. I didn't want to die so early on, so young. It didn't seem fair, not to either of us. We've worked so hard, and defeated an archdemon, and I…" Thayer stared down at his lap. "I just thought that perhaps there was an answer in manipulating magic to help remove the taint from our blood."

There were so many things wrong with what Thayer had just said, but what upset Alistair the most was that it made sense. It fell in with Thayer's personality, with his decisions, with his outlook…the poor man was barely twenty-six, just a quarter of a century old. He had less than thirty years left in his life, whereas a normal mage of his background would have probably survived to well over one-hundred.

And this was all because he'd been conscripted by Duncan and thrust into a leadership position he hadn't been ready for.

Alistair closed his eyes. He willed himself not to get angry. It wouldn't do them any good—and Thayer wasn't trying to start a fight. He was simply explaining himself.

"I'm not proud of the things I did either," Thayer continued quietly. "But damn it, I tried my best. I did everything that I could. And without you there, I nearly lost it several times."

Hearing that created an aching burn in Alistair's chest. Abandoning Thayer was the stupidest thing he'd ever done, but there was no taking it back now—no more than the mage could retract what he had done.

"I can't lie to you right now, Alistair. I was given a lead by the Architect…the driving force behind the darkspawn attacks on Amaranthine. I don't know if you remember him, but he gave me another route that I had toyed with trying. He said that our own tainted blood may hold the key. I originally came to ask for your help because I doubted any other Warden would give me the time of day, but I realized…"

He trailed off, reaching down to fidget with the hem of his robes. "I realized that what I wanted more was you."

"Your honesty is refreshing, Thayer, but I can't—" Alistair sighed. "Don't you understand that we are what we are?"

Alistair turned to face Thayer completely. The mage looked tired, and even a little ill. His skin was pale, and dark circles hung low under his eyes. He looked as if he'd lost weight, as well. This was a far cry from the symptoms one would see from a blood mage; he just appeared run down and exhausted.

"We're Grey Wardens," Alistair said firmly. "The taint is as much a part of us now as our own blood and guts are. There's no removing it no matter what any sentient darkspawn says. It separates us from the rest of society and gives us a special advantage. I, for one, don't want to get rid of it. The benefits far outweigh the negative. "

"Well, when you put it like that—"

"I know we'll live a shorter life," Alistair continued, "and that we won't get to experience growing old together on a farmhouse porch and all that romantic rot, but knowing what we've accomplished because of what we are…knowing what more we can still accomplish…" Alistair gave a faint smile. "Well, I've accepted it. Have you?"

Thayer looked taken aback. He, however, soon softened his expression and rubbed his hands together. "I think on some level, I didn't want to. But I reckon I just need to focus on the positive, like you have."

He cocked his head to the side. After a moment of silence, he said, "You know, it's funny."

"Hm?"

"Aren't I usually the one giving you the sage advice?"

Alistair wanted to laugh, but just thinking about it sent a rippling pain through his head. "You make a good point. It can't always be you taking care of me, though, can it?"

"No, that's true. It's just an interesting change of pace."

For the first time that night, Alistair and Thayer's eyes met for more than a mere second.

"I'm sorry," Thayer offered. "I'm just…sorry."

"I know."

The two sat in silence atop the bed. Alistair welcomed the quiet, as it gave him time to think about their situation. The truth of the matter was that they were at their best together. Their time apart had more than proven that.

Thayer broke the silence with the question that was on both of their minds.

"What do we do now?"

"I don't know," Alistair replied honestly. "But for the first time in a long while, I can say that I don't feel like having a drink right now."

Thayer smiled. It lit up his face and in an instant erased away the tired pallor.

"We've got a lot to catch up on."

"Let's wait until I'm not quite so hung over. I'd like to actually, you know, remember what you tell me."

"For you? Anything."