"No." The elf regarded Anders flatly. "Absolutely not."
"You don't understand!" cried Anders, his hands clenching into fists as he stared at the elf.
"On the contrary; I understand too well, which is why I cannot allow you to do this," Fenris replied quietly.
"Please!" begged Anders, then again, in a broken whisper, "Please."
Fenris' eyes softened. "I am sorry," he said, and turned away.
Anders watched dully as the elf returned the vial of lyrium to the box and closed it firmly. The elf leaned over the crate of alchemical supplies and exhaled in a long, low sigh.
The idea had come to Anders a little while after he had finally awoken after sleeping like the dead for the rest of the day and the whole of the night. He had not stirred once, even as Fenris had gently sponged the drying blood from his body and washed his limp, unresisting hands. He had finally awoken with the dawn the following morning, stirring into wakefulness when Fenris rose from the bed to stir up the ashes of the fire and set water to heat for tea.
He had sat watching Fenris as the elf set out two cups and brewed tea for them both. Fenris glanced up as he poured the tea, aware of Anders' eyes upon him; he smiled, and Anders hesitantly smiled back. When Fenris handed him the cup, he had to restrain the urge to clutch at Fenris' fingers and beg him to unlock his magic again. If his hands shook when he took the cup, Fenris at least had the grace to make no mention of it as he turned away to reach for his own cup.
He could not bring himself to beg, even though he wanted to. That tantalising few minutes when the magic had flown through his blood like quicksilver, tasting the mana with every breath, feeling more alive than he had in weeks, had flown past all too quickly, and he longed to feel it again even if only for a minute. But he couldn't use Fenris like that.
The lyrium. The lyrium was the key; he was certain of it. He recalled again the shimmering halos he had seen about Hawke, Bethany and Fenris as he lost consciousness after inadvertently swallowing the tainted lyrium; recalled the whispers of spirits even as everything had gone dark. He had heard them again as he had healed Fenris. Maybe untainted lyrium would open up his senses once more and unblock whatever it was inside that kept his magic walled away?
They had returned to the clinic as soon as they had finished a light breakfast, Anders' fingers tapping restlessly upon the haft of his staff as he waited impatiently for Fenris to finish donning his armour, though he allowed the elf to distract him with a kiss even as his gauntleted hand closed gently around his fingers to still them. He had smiled self-consciously when Fenris drew away, but couldn't explain to Fenris his wild impatience.
When Anders had made straight for the crate of alchemical supplies and pulled out a vial of lyrium, uncorking it hastily, Fenris had plucked it from his fingers with a scowl.
"Fool mage, do you want to poison yourself again?" he glared.
Anders had argued. Cajoled. Pleaded; even begged; but Fenris was adamant. He would not risk Anders poisoning himself further with lyrium, tainted or otherwise.
Anders' shoulders slumped as he turned away, unable to conceal his dismay and disappointment. He stiffened slightly as Fenris laid a hand lightly against the small of his back, then turned back toward the elf, allowing himself to be held as he dropped his head to rest against Fenris' shoulder.
"I just want to feel again," he said quietly.
Fenris said nothing, merely held him silently. They stood like that for a few minutes, Anders lifting his head with a quizzical look when Fenris pulled away slightly. Fenris stared up into his eyes as he took Anders' hands in his own, and then with a faint, wordless sigh the elf lit up his brands.
Anders pulled his hands free, though everything in him screamed not to pull away. He wrenched himself from Fenris' grasp with a groan of pain as he turned away, hating himself as he fought down the urge to reach for the elf again as the magic stuttered out like a guttering flame within him, leaving him cold and bereft once more.
"I can't, I can't do this," he moaned as he stumbled away then fell rather than sat on the edge of a nearby cot, burying his face in his hands.
"I thought -" began Fenris, bewilderment in his voice; Anders could practically feel the hurt, kicked-puppy look he knew the elf must be giving him.
"Don't get me wrong, I want it – I want it more than you can imagine," replied Anders, his voice a little muffled by his hands. "But I can't use you like that. I'm not Danarius."
"I did not say you were," said Fenris slowly, baffled. "Anders -"
"You don't understand," sighed Anders. He lifted his head to stare at Fenris with his one good eye. "If you do this... it makes it harder to let go. I'll only want you to do it more and more. And yet I know your brands hurt you. Every time you use them, it burns. And I... I can't do that to you. I can't ask you to do that for me."
"How did you...!" exclaimed Fenris, startled. He had never breathed a word to a single soul of how it pained him to use the markings incised into his skin. He had told Hawke of how they had been cut into his very flesh, and they had all learned that he could not abide to be touched save only rarely, but even to Hawke he had never confided what it cost him in pain to use the brands.
"Healer, remember?" said Anders with a wry lop-sided smile. "Before I lost my magic, I could tell – whenever we were fighting alongside Hawke, I would know through my magic the very moment any of you were hurt – but you were always this ball of elf-shaped pain every moment you were lit up. I know what it costs you." He lifted a hand to forestall Fenris before the elf could speak. "I know, you're used to it by now – but that doesn't mean I can bring myself to allow you to endure more pain on my behalf." He sighed quietly. "I just have to find another way to do it. I had hoped..." He gestured at the crate, then lowered his head. "It doesn't matter," he muttered.
Fenris lowered himself to sit next to Anders on the cot; after a moment, he laid a hand gently over Anders' as it rested on his knee. Wordlessly, Anders turned his hand palm uppermost and they laced their fingers together.
"What did you hope the lyrium would do?" rumbled the elf quietly.
"Unlock what's been locked away inside me," said Anders softly. "Give me back what was taken. Make me whole again."
"Anders," said Fenris gently as he shook their interlaced hands lightly. "You are whole. We know your magic is not wholly gone. Give it time. Perhaps it is like – like feeling returning again, when nerves heal."
Anders lifted his head and looked at him quizzically.
"You remember – not long after we first met, that fight with slavers on the coast? The bloodmage who caught me with that fireball. You healed me, but it took some time for the feeling to return to my leg – you told me that even with magical healing, the nerves still had to regrow after being burned."
"I remember," nodded Anders, then smiled ruefully. "You cussed a blue streak that I couldn't just heal it all instantly and you tried to walk on it before it had finished healing."
Fenris nodded and returned Anders' smile with a wry one of his own. "It seems I have to learn some lessons the hard way also." Anders snorted. "But perhaps this is like that, Anders – perhaps you have to let your magic grow back in its own time?" Fenris went on. "Perhaps you must simply have patience. I would not see you poison yourself with lyrium. We both know that lyrium is toxic enough itself, and I... would not wish to lose you."
"I wouldn't like to lose me either," quipped Anders, but the flippant grin that flickered across his face was gone as swiftly as it had appeared.
Fenris' fingers tightened briefly upon Anders' hand. "Have patience," he said softly.
Anders closed his eye. "It's so hard," he breathed. "To know it's still there and not be able to reach it. To know that I could -" His eye flew open and the colour drained from his face as he stared across the clinic at the cot where Mae had given birth and breathed her last. His eye widened. "I could have -"
Fenris grasped Anders by the shoulders and shook him none too gently. "Anders. Anders! Look at me!" Anders stared at him, wild-eyed, as he clutched at Fenris' hands. "Anders, you didn't know. We didn't know!"
"We could have saved her!" Anders breathed.
Fenris shook his head. "No. We had no idea. We didn't know. Do not blame yourself for this – we didn't, couldn't have known."
Anders stared at him in disbelief, and then slowly crumpled.