Anders sat still as Bethany slowly unwound the bandages then carefully removed the dressing.
"Well? How bad is it?" he asked quietly.
The look on her face was answer enough.
"Anders, I'm sorry, I was never that good at healing, but this is... I'm sorry, I can't. There's nothing I can do. There's... there's nothing left to..."
He lowered his head. He'd suspected as much, but he'd held out some small hope there had been something there. If even a scrap of the eye had survived then there was a chance that with the right healing he might at least regain the sight in that eye, but if there was nothing left...
He clutched the bandages in his hand. No magic, and blind in one eye.
Varric set a tankard of ale in front of him with a sympathetic look. Anders stared at it. He shouldn't, he knew; he needed a clear head. But shouldn't warred inside him with need and want, and want won out. He lifted the mug with a nod of thanks and took a long pull.
"So now what?" asked Varric, glancing to Hawke who shrugged.
"He can't go back to his clinic; that's out of the question for now," said Hawke.
Anders lifted his head. "Why?" he asked. "I may not be able to heal with magic but there's plenty I can do without it. I'm still a healer, Hawke. Or would you take that away from me too?" he added bitterly.
"No-one's taking anything away from you Blondie," said Varric reassuringly. "We just think maybe you need time to recover physically as much as possible before you rush back into anything."
Isabela strode into the room and tossed something down into Anders' lap. He dropped the bandages and fumbled for the object, then held up the black velvet eyepatch with a small frown.
"Can't have you scaring the kids, can we?" she drawled with a wink. When he didn't move, she plucked it from his hand and stepped behind him to put it on him.
Bethany hesitantly handed a small looking glass to him, and he lifted it to stare at his reflection.
Anders stared at the haggard stranger who stared back at him from the glass. His face was unnaturally pale, stubbled and unkempt, his dark blond hair greasy and lank. The eyepatch did nothing to improve his disreputable appearance, though at least it obscured the empty eye socket.
He flipped the patch up a moment then stared at the angry, red, raw wound where his eye had once been. He shuddered and flipped the patch back down then dropped the glass from his shaking hands as he buried his face in his palms and drew a ragged breath.
"It's OK Blondie, you won't look quite such a fright when you've had a bath, a shave and a good meal," said Varric reassuringly. Anders lifted his head and stared at him.
The dwarf lifted an eyebrow.
"What are you trying to do, Varric?" Anders asked quietly.
"Help a friend get back on his feet Blondie, that's all," replied Varric as he lifted his tankard and tipped it towards Anders in a salute.
Anders stared at him then slowly nodded. Varric had always been a good friend. He reached for his own tankard and took a long pull. As he set the tankard back on the table, he sighed.
"You said something about a bath and food?" he asked hopefully.
"I did indeed," agreed Varric.
An hour later, Anders felt decidedly more human. He'd bathed, and allowed Varric to shave him as he relaxed in the tub, the hot water reducing him to limpness as he rested his head against the back of the large copper tub which was almost big enough for the tall, lanky apostate.
He sat at the table, eating slowly as Bethany combed out his damp blond hair, spreading it out across his shoulders so it would dry faster. It felt strange and yet comforting, having someone else do something so mundane for him.
He was aware of the others talking around them but kept his attention on the food. He hadn't eaten properly in days, the constant pain in his head making him nauseous. It still lingered, but he'd downed another healing potion after his bath which had reduced the pain to a dull ache he could mostly ignore.
"I'm going back to the clinic," he announced abruptly as he shoved his empty plate away.
"I thought we'd decided-" began Hawke, but Anders cut him off with a glare from his one good eye.
"No, you decided," he disagreed. "I don't recall you giving me any say in the matter. But it's my home - the only home I've got - and I'm going."
He picked up the eyepatch and with a grimace for the necessity, tugged it on before rising to his feet and reaching for his staff out of habit.
"We'll go with you then," said Hawke. Anders snorted.
"Yes, and advertise to everyone in Darktown that something's happened to me? I'd have the Coterie smashing down the doors the moment you left," he sneered.
"I will go with you," said Fenris quietly as he rose and slung his sword upon his back.
"Why?" demanded Anders, frowning.
"As you say: a large group will draw unwanted attention to your... infirmity," replied Fenris. "The two of us may pass unnoticed however. You have returned late to the clinic with only one or two for company before."
Anders stared at him then shrugged. "Do what you like, I don't care," he said as he turned away. "Thank you for the bath and the meal, Varric."
"Any time, Blondie," replied the dwarf, watching the former mage depart with Fenris ghosting at his heels. The dwarf's eyes were filled with worry as he watched his friends leave.
Anders set his staff against the wall near the curtain that screened off his small room from the rest of the clinic, and leaned against a nearby cot with a sigh.
Fenris closed the clinic door and barred it before turning to raise an eyebrow.
Anders lifted his head. "Why did you come with me?" he asked.
"Two may pass unnoticed where a group would draw attention," rumbled the elf quietly. "I merely was concerned to see you safe home."
"But why should you care?" asked Anders tetchily. "You never have before."
"You were not-" began Fenris.
"What? Crippled?" Anders finished for him. "Go on, you can say it! You were thinking it."
"I was not," retorted Fenris as he stalked slowly through the clinic towards the apostate. "You are half blind, yes, and no longer a mage, it is true - but you were able to bring down an emissary by yourself. That is not the work of a cripple, Anders."
"Then why?" asked Anders. "If you think I can handle myself, why care what happens to me?"
"I care because -" The elf broke off with a frown. "Why is it so hard for you to accept that perhaps I feel some concern for you, Anders?"
"I don't understand why the sudden change of heart," replied Anders, folding his arms as the elf came to stand before him. "You never gave a damn about me before."
"That is not true," replied the elf. "If I did not care for you as a companion, I would not have pushed you out of the way of that slaver's blade. I care for you in the same way you care for me."
"I don't!" snapped Anders.
It was the elf's turn to fold his arms and regard the apostate sceptically. "Then why did you step into the path of the crossbow bolt that was aimed for me?"
Anders blinked several times and opened his mouth then shut it again. taking advantage of Anders' dumbness, the elf stepped closer, unfolding his arms.
"You could have been killed; you have been blinded in one eye and lost your magic because you were willing to risk your life to save mine. Why?"
"Because... I couldn't stop it... or warn you in time..." faltered Anders in a small voice, pushing himself back but unable to retreat as the backs of his legs hit the cot behind him. Fenris pressed closer, stepping into the blond apostate's personal space.
"Why would you do that, if not out of some concern for me?" asked the elf softly. "Anders, I do not hate you. You can be annoying and aggravating at times, and your dogmatic views on mage rights often infuriate me -"
"Dogmatic?" exclaimed Anders, voice rising in indignation. Fenris raised a hand and lightly pushed on Anders' chest and the tall man fell back onto the cot with an alarmed squeak.
"Dogmatic and infuriating," continued the elf. "But nevertheless you are a valued companion of Hawke's who has worked tirelessly to aid others without thought of personal gain. You have placed yourself in danger often to heal or assist when I or Varric or Hawke or Isabela or anyone else have been in trouble or hurt. This is not the first time you have risk your life for mine. I do not hate you, Anders; I respect you as a skilled healer and warrior in your own right. And I am concerned for you, as I would be for Hawke, Varric or any other of our friends were they in your position."
"Friends?" echoed Anders breathlessly.
"Yes, friends," nodded Fenris as he leaned over Anders, his gauntleted hand still braced against the other man's chest. His gaze suddenly dropped to his hand and he seemed to realise how close and intimate their positions appeared. Snatching his hand away, he straightened and stepped back.
Anders stared at the elf as he turned away. Fenris moved to another cot then turned and stiffly perched on the edge of it, regarding Anders across the few feet of space between them.
"Anders, you have been grievously hurt, and it will take you a while to recover. I am willing to assist if you will let me."
"Assist? How?" asked Anders, curious in spite of himself.
"I will help you in your clinic, if you will permit me. And I will teach you how to use that staff of yours as a weapon. We will train together, you and I. You have a certain amount of skill already, I am sure it will not take you long to compensate for the loss of your eye."
"And my magic," added Anders. The elf inclined his head in agreement. The blond apostate looked down at his hands, turning them over, then ran a hand through his loose dark blond hair. He exhaled heavily, then looked up at Fenris.
"I need to think on this," he said slowly. Fenris nodded.
"Take your time. You should rest," the elven warrior observed as he got to his feet and held out a hand to help Anders up. The blond apostate eyed it for a moment, then grasped it and hauled himself to his feet. He nodded to Fenris then turned and ducked under the curtain that led to his small room.
Fenris stood and listened. He heard the sound of a heavy coat being dropped to the floor and then the creak of a rickety wooden bed as Anders sat down. Buckles jingled as the other man toed off his boots, and then the bed creaked again as Anders gave a low sigh. After a few minutes of silence, the sounds of faint snoring drifted to the elf's keen ears.
Fenris nodded in satisfaction and drew his sword, taking up an easy stance where he could observe the clinic doors. No-one would disturb Anders' rest.