Fenris never mentioned his moment of lunacy, so Anders saw fit to not mention it either, never mind the fact that he had started having much more vivid dreams that involved his dream friend in much less clothing and much more into what they were doing- namely rutting like rabbits in any random local.
He awoke that particular morning as he had the last few- mussed, a little dazed, and with a raging erection from the dream he had just vacated. Fenris, bless the blighted bugger, was still sound asleep in the bed, unaware of the fact that the display he had put on for Anders days before had the Healer a bit flustered.
Anders glared down at his lap, and when his problem didn't go away, turned his attention to his journal which had acted like a pillow for him. Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, he read over his notes on Fenris' condition. For whatever reason, once he entered Healer mode, even his more wayward bits would get in line.
The fever had not returned, even with all of the new emotional turmoil, he noted. After the first fitful night after learning of Hawke's demise, Fenris had resorted back to relatively normal sleeping patterns. His daily exercises were going along slowly, but Anders wasn't that surprised. Between the near-death experience, malnutrition, and stress, it was miraculous the elf was making any progress at all. But in anyone else, Anders would have expected more progress.
He glanced over towards the bed, taking in the still form thoughtfully. Fenris' appetite was slowly growing, so that wasn't the problem. He had a few theories, but nothing concrete to go on. He would just have to do the best he could with what he had, the mage decided.
Anders closed and pushed aside his journal, stretched, and with a yawn, headed out towards his garden.
It wasn't a real garden; it was more of a clearing protected by briars and brambles that just happened to have some helpful herbs and plants growing in it, but Anders wasn't bothered by the pesky details. He carefully sidestepped the briars, and plopped down and got to work.
"Sometimes, I want to wring his neck," he said some time later to the rabbit that lived in this clearing. Messere Hops-a-lot cocked his head at the mage, munching thoughtfully on come clover. It had never feared Anders, and Anders was loath to send away such attentive company.
It wasn't a cat, but it would do.
"Granted, I know he would happily wring mine," he admitted. "It's just…I wish he hadn't seen my journal. I wanted to wait until he was healthier before dropping that on him. Guess that can't be helped now. Just have to watch and wait."
That was all he could do now it seemed, he thought bitterly. Watch the elf, watch and wait for signs or clues to whatever it was that had his benefactor up in arms, and wait for further instructions. Starting revolutions, and ridding yourself of spirits, had a price after all.
"Mage?"
"Excuse me," Anders said to the rabbit, standing and dusting off his knees. "Duty calls. Stay there Fenris," he called out. "I'll come to you."
It took another moment, but once he had exited the briar, he found Fenris standing there, naked as a jay bird and just as contrite as one.
"You shouldn't wander around on your own like that," Anders frowned, mind supplying vivid images of what could happen to the elf should he collapse prematurely or if he landed on something breakable or spiky.
The elf merely looked at him, almost appraisingly. Anders fought the urge to fidget under that cool, calm gaze.
"When can I be clothed again?"
"Soon, I'd imagine," Anders replied, offering an amused smile. "Sure you don't want to just go au natural full time?"
The elf ignored that comment. "I wish…I wish to return to Kirkwall. I would have you prepare me for the journey."
"Wait, what?" Obviously Anders had misheard the other man. "You want to go back to Kirkwall? A city teeming with Templars, Seekers, Wardens, Slavers, and Blood Mages?"
"They do not concern me," Fenris replied quietly. "I wish to go back. Will you help me, or not?"
Mental images of Fenris dragging himself over rocks and debris entered Anders' mind, leaving streaks of blood behind in the growing darkness while faceless slavers and thieves closed in on him from all sides.
Bloody hell.
"Fine, fine," Anders groaned. "I'll help you. I wouldn't be able to sleep at night if I sent you off without proper treatment."
"Treatment?"
"Yes," Anders answered, heading back towards the hut, Fenris falling into lurching steps beside him. "You will need to slowly build up your strength again, and your flexibility. You've lost a measure of both due to your time being ill and those bastards removing your markings. It will take time, but I will do what I can, I promise you."
Fenris was silent, and Anders sighed. He realized that Fenris had never been the most verbose person he had ever met, but he really wished the elf would speak more; like why he wanted to go back to that pit of a city, how he was going to get there without being picked up by slavers, not to mention how the hell he thought he could make it there on his own.
Anders supposed he would just wait and see, and make a decision when the time came.
Fenris wasn't sure what to make of the mage's new demands. He cocked his head, eyes narrowing at the man before him, trying to read him as one reads another's face in a game of Wicked Grace.
"You…are not bluffing," he realized.
"Nope."
"Is there no other way?"
"Well, you could do it on your own," Anders said airily. "But then you wouldn't be sure if everything was in alignment, and if you mess that up-"
"I get the picture, mage. Very well then."
And that was how the elf ended up sitting outside for the first time in a long time, in the sunlight, wearing trousers for the first time in weeks, letting the mage get close and touch him.
He couldn't stop the flinch when Anders' fingers rested on his back.
"Easy, Fenris."
Fenris huffed, but relaxed slightly under the mage's instruction.
"That's it," Anders encouraged quietly, laying his hands on the elf's back. "Remember, we want to stretch things out. If there is acute pain, it's too much too soon. Understand?"
"Let's just get this over with."
"That's the spirit!"
He should have been used to the mage touching him by now, but despite extended time with the other man, Fenris just couldn't erase body memory; the pain had been extreme, and then it had been recently been brutally reinforced. The mage had also not used magic since The Incident, so there was no extreme pleasure to counteract against the memories.
One hand bracing lightly against his right shoulder, Anders led his other hand over Fenris' arm, stopping at his elbow and gently gripping it.
"How are your scars?"
Fenris considered. "I…feel you touching them, but the sensation is…dulled."
"No pain?"
"No."
"Good," the mage said, and with little pressure, eased Fenris' elbow forward and down, rotating the whole arm. Fenris was silent, so Anders continued for five rotations before stopping, waiting three counts, and then doing it backwards. Fenris grunted a little, but did not protest. Anders noted that it was stiffer going backwards, and moved on.
They continued in this manner, going from the elf's arms to his wrists, his fingers, his legs, his ankles, and even his toes. Fenris had not problems with any of this; he endured the touching, because it would help, and it didn't hurt.
But when Anders reached for his neck, Fenris panicked. He remembered pain, remembered the flash of the knife-
"N-no!" he yelped, falling forward and trying to crawl away from the mage. He froze as Anders' form carefully covered his, pinning him to the ground. The intimacy of the position, the lack of clothing on his part, the way the mage was tilting his head, lips against his ear-
"Fenris, I won't hurt you. I know you are sensitive on your neck. However, it does need to be exercised. I won't touch your marks; I will hold the sides of your jaw, and you will go where I lead. Alright?"
Fenris nodded slowly, and breathed a quiet sigh of relief when the human got off of him. He sat up, glancing warily at Anders, who was sitting there like nothing had happened, hands outstretched, waiting.
Coward. He was such a coward, why couldn't he-
"You always charge in like it's nothing."
"I…what?"
"Even when you could die, you charge in like you don't care if you die. I like that about you, Fenris."
Fenris drew in a deep breath, drew on that courage she had admired so much, and scooted back into the mage's range.
"Why do you want to go back?"
Fenris looked over at the mage, who was working on their dinner. More stew, it looked like, but Fenris didn't really care at this point.
"Does it matter?" he asked. "I want to go, and you agreed to assist me. There is nothing more than that."
"Is there?" Anders replied, and Fenris noted with some surprise that the man sounded angry.
"What are you-"
"I need to know, Fenris," Anders snapped. "I'm your damn healer, I have a right-"
"You have no right," Fenris cut in softly. "But if it will shut your prattling, I'm going for closure."
Anders paused in his work. "Closure?"
"Yes. I need to see where she died. I need…" Fenris trailed off, frowning. "I just feel that, if I truly want to do anything else, I need to go to Kirkwall first. I can't really explain it."
At least the mage had fallen silent, Fenris thought wearily. Small mercy. Anders was asking him questions, making him think, and Fenris did not like it. He did not want to think. He wanted to get strong again, go to Kirkwall…and that was it. After going so long without any concrete goal, it was a little overwhelming. Anders would help; he had said he would, and even if he was lying, the elf would make sure he would hold up his end of the bargain.
"When can we exercise again?" he asked finally.
"After you eat and rest your belly," Anders replied promptly. "Three times daily, eventually adding in some stretches and relaxation poses before adding in strength training. I hope you remember how to wield a sword, otherwise you will be out of luck."
"I remember that much," Fenris muttered. "This sounds like it will take a long time. Do you have any idea when I could be ready to make the journey?"
"Hmm," was all the mage said, and Fenris couldn't get another straight answer out of him for the rest of the night.
Fenris would be the first to admit that he was not the most patient man on the face of Thedas. He was a man of action, a man of movement. He did not do well sitting on his backside, and he did not do well in cages, gilded or otherwise.
Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to a month, and eventually, he grew frustrated.
"When can we move on?" he finally asked one day, the exercises finished and Anders once again cooking their meal.
The mage didn't even bother looking up at him while he spoke. "You are getting better, Fenris. You've gained back some of your flexibility, but if we push too hard too soon, we will undo all the work we've done, and you could injure yourself to the point where even my magic wouldn't be able to save you."
"Load of good it's doing me now," Fenris snarled. "It should not be taking this long to heal! Even some of the most grievous wounds are healed by now."
"I refrain from using magic around you unless absolutely necessary out of respect," Anders replied coldly. "I thought I was doing you a favor."
"You do me no favors by keeping me here," Fenris growled, pacing back and forth in front of the bed. "I need to move on, but to be stuck here-"
"You make it sound as if I am insufferable," Anders said lightly.
"You are," Fenris barked.
"How so?"
"What?" Fenris stopped, turning to stare at the mage.
"How am I being insufferable?" the man asked, looking up this time, brown eyes looking particularly piercing. "I save you from the brink of death, I let you cuddle me in my cat form, I deal with your grumpiness without complaint, I'm slowly nursing you back to health, and I've been avoiding using magic in front of you because I know it upsets you. What, in all of that, causes me to be a pain in your ass?"
Fenris shifted, then started pacing again, remaining silent. There were circumstances not dire enough for him to admit to the mage that being close, touching him, was distracting to the point of madness. The mage's hands drew reluctant pleasure from Fenris every time they touched…at least three times daily. He had not embarrassed himself again after the first time, but it was still disconcerting when he had realized a few days ago that he no longer flinched when Anders touched him.
"Why is it taking so long?"
Anders shrugged, pooling out their portions into bowls. "I have a theory, but that's all it is, a theory."
"I'm listening."
Anders handed Fenris his meal, considering for a moment while the elf took a few bites.
"Do you know how long your body carried all that lyrium?"
Fenris glanced up, suspicious. "Several years before I made my escape. Why?"
"Lyrium is a potent and dangerous magical substance, as you well know," Anders said. "Only mages can imbibe the stuff on a regular basis without going mad, it can draw Spirits of the Fade in, it's used for Summonings. I've even been told that it was used in the makings of Dwarven Golems. I highly doubt that it was intended to be branded into someone's skin. The effects…"
"The effects," Fenris prompted the now silent mage.
"Fenris, your body was under severe stress from your markings. Even though they gave you all that power, it was probably best for you that they were removed."
"Oh, so I went through all that suffering for a reason," Fenris sneered. "Good to know."
"Listen, you stubborn ass, the markings would have killed you sooner instead of later," Anders snapped. "Why do you think it is taking you so long to heal? Your body was worn out from the markings. You weren't just drawing on the energy from the lyrium; you were drawing on your own reserves. Your body is resting now, trying to recover. If you had not had them removed, you probably would either be dead now, or dying."
"Such a comforting thought," the elf grumbled.
"You would say that, after what I pulled you out of," Anders replied softly. "The Magisters are truly cruel to subject less fortunate people to that kind of death. You would have keeled over eventually, without warning, probably from organ failure or a heart attack."
"I see."
"Good. Now, do you want me to start using magic again? It will help speed things along, but it is your decision. I'm not forcing it on you when you detest it so much."
Fenris paused, chewing thoughtfully. While he detested magic still, Anders so far had not hurt him with magic. But while it would help speed along his recovery, it would mean he would have to deal with the same pleasant sensations he had felt before…hence the possibility of more embarrassment.
Yet Anders had not laughed or belittled him for it, then or now.
He swallowed. "We will use magic then."