For a moment, he froze. He couldn't breathe. His fingers clenched Fenris' leather cuirass as he stared down at the elf, stunned. He was only distantly aware of the others as they gathered around them. He heard voices, but no words.

Someone was kneeling down on the other side of Fenris' body. Talking to him. The words made no sense.

Nothing made sense. Not any more.

The words slowly penetrated. A hand, holding out a vial of blue liquid.

Bethany. Lyrium.

Yes.

He took the vial without really seeing it; he knocked back the contents mechanically, and suddenly he could breathe again. Colour and sound flooded his senses once more, and power surged in his veins - power that he channelled out, down, into the body before him. He closed his eyes, and the world ceased to exist as he plunged into a different world - one of blood, of sinew, of flesh and bone.

There - there! Still yet a flutter of life; the thread thin but still there. He reached for it, even as he reached within for the answering magic. It was a whispering kiss beneath his skin; a soothing wash of energy that he let flow into the broken body beneath his fingers. It sought out torn muscle, bleeding veins, ripped arteries, shattered bone; it wove anew, restoring, reawakening life in a body that had all but surrendered to death. He was aware of the whispering voices of spirits, their ghostly touch upon his face; he welcomed their aid, as he had so many times before. Spirit mage. Healer. Yes.

Fenris drew a shuddering breath. And then another.

Anders was aware of it on two levels; the waking awareness of his external senses, but also the innate inward sense of the healer, his consciousness extended into the body before him. His heart beat in time to that of Fenris; each breath he took was shared with the elf. He could barely tell the pulsing of blood in his own ears from the rhythm of blood in Fenris' veins. The ache in his head, the trembling of his hands, the metallic taste in his mouth, the nausea - even the constant unclean scratching in the back of his mind that whispered of taint and the nearness of darkspawn; all these were forgotten in the here and now of healing. He heard only the beat of a heart reawoken and the encouraging whispers of spirits about them; saw only flesh made whole, felt only the flow of magic from his body into that of Fenris.

He was oblivious when Bethany set another vial of lyrium to his lips; he drank mechanically, unaware of the bitter argument between the Hawke siblings or Varric's attempts to make peace between them. He licked lyrium absently from his lips as the power continued to flow.

He reached deeper, willing his own life into Fenris, unaware of the murmured words that fell from his lips: Don't go. Come back. Don't leave me. I love you. And over and over, the name: Fenris. Fenris. Fenris. Each intonation of the name a heartbeat, a call, beckoning the elf's spirit back to his body. The silvery light of his healing surrounded them both like a softer echo of Fenris' own blazing brilliance, though Anders was oblivious to it, to the startled glances their companions exchanged.

It seemed eternity, measured in heartbeats.

"Mage."

"Don't go. Fenris. Fenris, come back. Fenris."

"Mage, I am going nowhere."

"Fenris, don't -"

Fingers grasped his wrists firmly. "Anders. Look at me. I am still here."

Anders gasped as his eyes flickered open; he stared down at Fenris. The elf regarded him with one eyebrow arched, and then gave a slow, rare smile.

Anders gave a small smile in return before his eye rolled back in his head and he slumped. Varric caught him before his head could hit the floor; his last thought was to wonder why Sandal was staring at him and smiling.

Fenris regarded the Hawke siblings thoughtfully as they continued arguing, then exchanged glances with Varric. The dwarf raised an eyebrow meaningfully and jerked his head almost imperceptibly towards Bethany and Hawke. Fenris sighed silently and carded his fingers through the unconscious Anders' hair.

He had awoken to find the mage bent over him, his eyes closed and face wet with tears as he murmured pleas for the elf to return to him, the air around them both filled with a soft, silvery glow. He had not expected to wake at all; he remembered the dragon's talons ripping into his side, a crushing rending pain that tore the breath from his lungs; sailing through the air, then hitting the ground hard, his head striking stone mercifully stealing his consciousness as he drowned in his own blood. To open his eyes and feel only a faint lingering ache in his limbs seemed little short of a miracle.

Anders had fainted through sheer exhaustion, and now he lay unconscious as Fenris cradled his head in his lap, stroking the dishevelled dark blond hair. He glanced again at Hawke and Bethany, and shook his head.

"Hawke, peace! Bethany did what she did to save my life. She does not have Anders' gift of healing; all she could do was give him the means to do so himself. Would you rather I had died?"

The rogue turned to him with a look of exasperation. "No, I don't but -" He ran a hand through his tousled black hair and exhaled noisily through his nose. "He's lyrium-addled enough as it is. How many times did you have to steer him away from those lyrium veins, Fenris? We both know where he'll end up. Bethany can't keep giving him lyrium; it's killing him. And what happens when the lyrium runs out? What then?"

Fenris sighed and glanced down at Anders' still face. In the deep sleep of exhaustion, the lines of care and worry were smoothed, lending his face a youthful air that belied his age. Fenris was suddenly struck by the realisation he had no idea how old the mage truly was.

"Too young to die," he murmured to himself as he brushed a stray hair away from Anders' closed good eye then stroked his cheek. Anders stirred slightly, sighing softly as he turned his head blindly into Fenris' touch before growing still once more.

"But he will die, Fenris, if he keeps taking lyrium like this," said Hawke gravely.

"I will not let him die," growled Fenris. "Do you forget I carry a kingdom's ransom in lyrium within my flesh, Hawke? Whilst I still breathe, I will not let him suffer, no matter the cost."

"You'd exchange one addiction for another!" exclaimed Hawke. "How is that any better?"

"Garrett, please, he's only -" Bethany began, even as Fenris drew himself up with a snarl.

"And what would you do, Hawke? Would you stand by and watch him crippled by lyrium withdrawal?" His lip curled in a sneer.

"Easy, Broody," said Varric placatingly. "You don't want to wake Blondie," he added, as the mage stirred restlessly.

Fenris lowered his voice, but his tone was still venomous as he glared at Hawke. "Have you ever seen someone go through lyrium withdrawal, Hawke? Do you know what would happen to him? Puking, shivering, feverish, delirious. The amount he's been taking, he may very well fall into a coma. He could die; I have seen it happen. He would be helpless, unable to care for himself; and he would suffer such agonising pain as you could barely dream of. It could well be the death of him. Is that what you wish, Hawke? You wish to see your friend suffer through such torment - here, of all places?"

"No," said Hawke, quieter; he seemed shaken. "No, I wouldn't. I - you're right, I had no idea."

"I was trying to help him," Bethany said in a small voice. She covered her face with her hands and began to cry.

"I can see that now," said Hawke, abashed, as he slipped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a hug.

"Maker, what a mess," Varric shook his head. "So what now? Blondie can't keep drinking lyrium forever - it'll run out eventually. You can keep him going, Broody, but at what cost - to either of you? He's practically a nervous wreck as it is, between his lyrium cravings and just being down here."

"I... do not know," said Fenris quietly.

"We'll work something out," said Hawke, with a confidence he wished he truly felt.

"Finding a way around that rockfall would be a good start," mused Varric. "The sooner we do that, the sooner we can get on with this expedition - and the sooner we can all be back on the surface and out of these damned tunnels."

"You're a dwarf; I thought dwarves were at home underground?" remarked Fenris.

"Hah! Not this dwarf," answered Varric. "I'm beginning to see Blondie's point of view on the Deep Roads."

"Well, we're not going anywhere whilst Anders is out for the count," said Hawke. "We may as well make camp here for now." He spotted Sandal sitting a little way away, staring at Anders. "What say you, Sandal?"

"Enchantment," nodded Sandal.