Fenris had never been very compliant with instructions that Anders gave. He had nearly lost his left arm once when he refused to hold still long enough to let Anders use magic, and he had nearly lost his life when a desperate blood mage had almost drained him, and even then he kept feebly shoving Anders away.

So it was very disconcerting at how meek and obedient the elf was now that magic was back in the equation.

He wasn't flinching away anymore, so Anders supposed it wasn't all bad.

"Easy Fenris," he murmured, sensing the tightening of the elf's body as the magic flowed through his supine form. "It's helping, it's not going to hurt."

"Yes," Fenris replied, shifting slightly.

Anders smiled gently at the back of the elf's head. He had not been lying when he had told him that healing magic did feel very good at times. What he had left out was that he had never had a patient before that was as sensitive as Fenris was proving to be. Their new healing regime had been going on now for little over two weeks, and each time he finished the session, Anders would leave Fenris for an hour or so for privacy, leaving behind a rag and a small bottle of cream. He himself refused to indulge and actually look over the elf with more than just medical concern; Fenris was not his lover, nor showed any interest in becoming his. Between that, his obvious preference for women and his horrible history with magic, it would be wrong as a man and as a healer to take advantage of the situation.

Oddly enough, whenever he would come back, Anders would see the rag and bottle still in their places, untouched. He wasn't sure why Fenris wasn't taking care of things, but unless the elf brought it up, Anders decided not to bother the other man about it. So long as it wasn't hurting his overall health, then that was in the very distinct 'Fenris Only' category.

"You are getting along much quicker now," he said conversationally, drawing his hands down the elf's calves. "I think you'll be able to start a few exercises in the next few days. Over," he commanded, waiting as Fenris gingerly maneuvered himself onto his back.

Anders noticed, and immediately dismissed, the elf's tented pants, and reached for Fenris' chest. Fenris let out a soft noise; not exactly a coo, but something akin to a rougher cousin. Anders knew he would remember that noise later, probably in his dreams.

Maker, forgive me.

He finished their session soon after, the glow around his hands fading away as he stood, offering Fenris a hand up. The elf took it after a moment, standing with a grunt.

"I'll be out in the garden for a bit," Anders said, heading out without looking back at the other man.

If he had, he would have seen the wistful, albeit confused, look Fenris was giving him.

"Venhedis!"

He didn't understand himself sometimes. It was bad enough to be under the mage's care, but now with his own body betraying him daily…he would go mad, he was sure of it.
Fenris watched Anders leave, just as confused as he was after every session. This man, who had infuriated him, who had stood for what ignorant mages could attain, who was part of a group that Fenris had feared all his remembered life…was making him respond to his touches. He did not flinch from this demon-possessed man anymore. He did not mind his company.

What in the world was wrong with him?

His erection twitched, bringing him out of his thoughts and back to the problem at hand. Growling, he plopped onto the bed, wiggled out of his trousers, and took himself in hand, stroking slowly. He would rid himself of these distracting feelings, he thought. It was a simple enough need; it didn't need to be dragged out and relished. Just finish it up and move on. He had not touched himself in a while, and soon enough he was nearing the edge.

Fenris turned his head to the side, burying it in the pillow as he climbed closer and closer. He fought to keep his mind blank, to focus only on the pleasure-

-a large form draped itself over him, caging but steady and warm. The smell of soap and tea leaves reached his nose, and he groaned softly as a stubbly chin leaned down, scratchy against his cheek. A low, soothing voice whispered in his ear, a calloused hand reaching down between his legs and gripping his cock. The voice chuckled, the laugh echoing out from the flat chest and into the elf's back as Fenris arched, crying out and pleading for more-

And with a stuttered gasp, Fenris came, spilling over onto his belly. He lay there, panting softly as he stared up at the ceiling.

"Fuck."

To say Fenris was acting strangely would be an understatement. The elf, though normally a man of few words, became virtually silent overnight, save for the grunts he made during his exercises, which he threw himself into with much worrisome gusto.

Anders didn't really worry about it until it interfered one day with their healer-patient relationship.

"Come here Fenris, I need to show you-"

"I can see fine from here."

The interjection was unexpected, and Anders blinked in surprise. Fenris had never cared for touch overmuch, but he seemed to tolerate Anders now. Odd that he would shy away from him now.

He must be repulsed, Anders thought with a pang. He's being aroused against his will by something that he hates. I guess I can't really blame him.

He eventually convinced Fenris to come to him, and to try and help matters, he used his magic more quickly, giving the elf only a brief once over. After their session, Anders excused himself as always. Once he got outside however, he quickly shifted form, and within minutes he was prowling through the forests, loosing himself in the nature of the beast.

When Anders returned to the hut some hours later, he was surprised to see that Fenris sitting at his desk. He cocked an eyebrow at the elf, who was intently reading what appeared to be Anders' journal.

"Good read?" he asked.

Fenris nodded shortly, not looking up. "Interesting. To see everything from your eyes, that is."

"Yes, I suppose it is," Anders said slowly, eyes narrowing now. "What part are you on?"

Fenris cleared his throat, and Anders couldn't believe it, but he was blushing. "Margaret the Milking Maid."

Anders blinked. And then once he realized who Fenris was talking about, he had to find a chair because he was laughing so hard.

"Oh, Maker, that was ages ago," he laughed. "She was, what, the fourth woman I slept with?"

"Fifth, actually," Fenris supplied, the edges of his lips tugging up slightly in an effort not to smile. "Anise, Felicity, Sherry, Wilma, and Margaret."

"I forgot about poor Wilma," the mage said.

"I bet she didn't forget you so soon," Fenris said, flipping back a few pages and skimming the contents, "Seeing as how you accidently set her bed on fire."

"I was fifteen!"

"Excuses, excuses," Fenris sniffed.

"Oh, like you weren't a troublemaker when you were that age," Anders grumbled.

"I wouldn't know," the elf returned, unperturbed.

"No," the mage said, deflating a little. "I suppose you wouldn't. I apologize for that."

"No offense taken," Fenris shrugged. "It is what it is."

They fell silent, and Anders decided to make use of the elf's suddenly talkative mood.

"You've been acting a little strange lately," Anders prompted gently. "If there's anything I can do to help-" He fell silent at the loud intake of breath from the elf.

"You…I, ah, it is difficult to speak of," the elf mumbled, looking down at his lap. "It's…very personal."

"I understand," Anders offered. "If you don't want to speak of it, we don't have to. I just wondered if I did something to upset you. You've been so quiet and skittish around me."

"No," Fenris said quickly, looking up from his hands and giving Anders a very open, solemn look. "You didn't do anything. I just…bah," he snorted. "I…fantasized…about something…and it upset me. It was through no failing of yours."

Immediately, Anders knew of what Fenris spoke of. Drawing from what he knew about the man, Anders knew that Fenris was a private man. Personal issues, and relationships, were off-limits. And if you added both of them together-

Yes, it all made sense now.

"It's alright to fantasize about something you can't have," Anders said gently, offering an understanding smile when the elf jerked, staring at him in shock. "That's why it's fantasy, and not reality."

Slowly, Fenris nodded. "I…yes. Alright then," he said, standing abruptly and heading out the door. "I'm going for a walk. I'll be back later."

"If you're not back in ten minutes, I will go looking for you," Anders warned. Fenris nodded, and quickly left.

Anders shrugged, pulling his journal over and closing it with a sigh.

It figured that the elf would feel terrible about masturbating to his dead lover, the poor thing.

It was a solemn, quiet day near the middle of summer when Fenris picked up a weapon once more.

"I looked and looked, but I could not find your normal weapon," Anders babbled. "I know you liked your two-handed weapons, but I suppose this works out because you can start out lightweight and work your way up-"

"The weapon," Fenris said hefting the long sword carefully "Is not the problem. I will not wear the armor."

"Oh," Anders' brow furrowed in concern. "Is it too tight? Does it chafe? Or is it not tight enough?"

"I will not wear a skirt," Fenris replied firmly. "Leggings only."

"Why," Anders asked with a laugh. "It's lightweight and gives you room to move. Why not wear it?"

"Because," the elf replied with a hesitant smile. "I would rather not show my ass off to the world when I fall over."

"I'm sure the world wouldn't mind."

Fenris turned and stared at him, gazing at him for a long moment with a strange look on his face before turning quickly away. "We should move on."

He waited until the mage was out of range before starting his exercises. He was tentative at first; unsure of his movements and body, he entered every move conservatively, cautiously making sure he did not overextend himself. Soon, however, he was dancing and whirling around, his weapon flashing in the dappled light. He grinned wolfishly; it had been a very long time since he had enjoyed himself like this.

Time passed slowly for him, and he became lost in his dance. It was the only dance he knew, the only one he remembered; he was a killer, not a socialite. Where Hawke and Isabella had once entertained him for an evening with swaying bodies and twirling skirts, he had entertained his master with glowing limbs and blood drenched hands. It was a dance he knew, and though he loathed to admit it, it was a dance he enjoyed.

Now, he danced for himself, with an audience of one. It wasn't just a reacquainting of his training with his body; it was a statement for himself, that he would go on and see this through. Fenris focused on his footwork, gliding gracefully from one form to another, leaping about and sword flashing as he parried, thrust, and swiped at invisible foes. Sweat built up, sliding down his form and making his skin itch under his armor, but he continued on, stubborn, intent on finishing what he started.

When he did finish, he halted, panting hard, and turned to say something to Anders. His words died before they left his mouth when he caught the mage staring in what appeared to be…awe?

"That was beautiful," Anders blurted.

Fenris blinked. The mage had enjoyed watching him practice? But he didn't…didn't he say before that Fenris could fantasize since he couldn't have what he wanted? Obviously he was too hideous and scarred for anyone to feel attracted to him now, but now the mage was telling him…he did something beautifully?

Unsure, Fenris coughed a little. "We fight beside each other for years, and you act like this is the first time you've seen me wield a sword."

"Excuse me for not staring back then," Anders smiled. "Normally I was making sure I didn't lose my head, and that you and Hawke didn't lose yours."

"Ah, a fact I can appreciate," Fenris said. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," the mage shrugged. "That was my job."

"And what is your job now, I wonder?" the elf mused.

"Oh, you know, the usual," Anders said flippantly. "Shoot lightning at fools, eat a good pie, get handsome elves back on their bare feet. Nothing new or exciting there."

Fenris gaped at him. "…what?"

"Don't tell me you're going deaf now too," the mage grumbled. "I'm helping you get back on your feet. That's my job now."

"Oh. I…I see."

Fenris realized that he must have misheard the other man. Anders was doing a job, a charity. Giving up on or losing the elf now would be a wound to the mage's professional pride.

And he most certainly did not just call him handsome. Obviously Fenris had been in that forest for too long. It was time to move on.

"If you want to make it to Kirkwall this year," Anders said, as if hearing the elf's thoughts. "Then we need to find passage on a ship quickly. No sane captain would sail after autumn begins."

"There will be someone in Minranthous," Fenris replied, stripping out of his clothing. "I'll leave tomorrow then."

"Tomorrow?" Anders squawked. "Are you kidding me? No, you're not ready-"

"I can properly defend myself," Fenris snapped, throwing down his leggings and standing before the mage completely bare, too annoyed to care about nudity. "I will not be delayed any longer. If I don't make it, then that solves a lot of my problems, doesn't it?" He stalked into the hut, intent on a quick sponge bath.

"I guess that means I'll just have to tag along," Anders called from the doorway.

Fenris dropped the wet cloth with a plop, cursing nastily under his breath.

"I'm fairly certain my mother did not do that with a horse," Anders said primly.

"Why would you follow after me?" Fenris snarled. "I'm well enough to go on my own. You've done your duty; I thank you for saving my life, healing me, and setting me back on a path that I can follow, but I am not some child to chase after!"

"I am well aware of that," Anders said quietly. Fenris paused, ears pricking up at the other man's tone. It was just…the way he said that, as if he…

Angry now at his train of thought, Fenris snarled, "Then why are you insisting on following me?"

"Because I want to go back now as well," the mage shrugged at the elf's disbelieving look. "You're not the only one who needs closure. And since we're going to the same place, and know each other, might as well go together."

"On your head be it then," Fenris said.