He slowly drifted back to wakefulness. It was dark when he opened his eyes; pitch black, so that he couldn't even see his hand in front of his face. He panicked for a moment, reaching out and flailing wildly until his hand touched warm skin and he felt breath on his face, soft hair brushing his cheek.
"Calm yourself, Anders, I am here," rumbled a low voice, and Anders sighed with relief; he wasn't alone in the dark. Fenris was there.
"It's dark," he managed to gulp, his panic slowly receding.
"Ah. Your vision has not yet returned then?" pondered Fenris quietly. Anders groaned and rolled over onto his back, rubbing his face tiredly with one hand.
"It seems not," he sighed. He lay still for a moment, staring sightlessly into the darkness before he slowly sat up and patted around for his staff. There was the soft scrape of metal and wood on stone, and then the haft of his staff was pressed into his hand. "Thank you," he whispered, clutching it firmly.
"Wait here, I shall bring you something hot to drink and something to eat," Fenris told him. Anders snorted.
"I'm not going anywhere," he shrugged, a faintly bitter note creeping into his voice.
"Anders." Fenris had paused; Anders had the feeling he was staring at him. "Your sight will return; you said yourself it might take a little time."
Anders nodded. "I know. It's just so frustrating." He sighed.
A scrape of a foot against stone, and then Anders felt the elf moving away from him as a slight draft of colder air eddying in the warrior's wake and a sense of emptiness. Around him, he could feel the others stirring; the crackling of the fire as someone coaxed the embers back into life and added more wood; the splash of water and the dull clunk of an iron pot being set over the fire.
Anders folded up his blanket by touch then felt around for his pack. He managed to pack it away by feel, tucking his mother's pillow safely in on top. His movements were slow, his joints stiff and aching, though only a dull echo of the agonising pain he'd experienced yesterday evening. He felt the tell-tale trembling in his hands beginning once more, his head aching. He felt for his belt pouch and brushed his fingers over the small vials of lyrium, then blinked. There were only two left.
He'd best start rationing it; take only barely enough to take the edge off the worst of the cravings. He pulled out one, uncorking it before taking a small sip - barely enough to wet his lips, really - before recorking it and tucking the precious vial away again. He would need to be careful. He had no idea how much lyrium Bethany had left but he doubted she could have much more than he did. She'd been too free with it, giving it to him.
He felt in his other pouches; he still had a good number of his little modified blast capsules. He could tell the difference between them by which pouch each type was stored in, counting along from the large brass ring that held his belt closed. Not that they'd necessarily do him a lot of good until the sight in his good eye returned - though at least he could reasonably accurately pinpoint any darkspawn he might encounter.
He tapped his chin thoughtfully with one finger. He was used to casting shields on the others and keeping a light touch on each of them during fights with his healer's senses; maybe he could use that to at least tell where they were? He frowned, "reaching" out.
Ah, that was Fenris; he could tell by the touch of the lyrium in the elf's skin, like a silvery thread running through what he identified as "elf". Stretching further he touched the earthy presence that was Varric.
Turning his head blindly, he felt carefully then smiled as he recognised the feel of Bethany; she felt like sunlight and cooling spring rain.
Hawke, he would have known anywhere; he had healed him so often that the sense of his presence was familiar and warm.
Fenris muttered an oath. "Mage, what are you doing?" he exclaimed irritably.
"Trying to tell where you all are," Anders replied. He pointed in the direction of where he'd sensed Fenris. "You, Varric, Bethany, Hawke." He pointed to the presence of each in turn, and by the exclamations of the others he knew he'd gotten it right.
"How on earth did you do that?" asked Hawke.
"Same way I keep tabs on you all and heal you at a distance when we're in a fight," shrugged Anders. "It's just a variation of that. And I already know I can feel where darkspawn are."
"Useful," remarked Varric in an approving and thoughtful tone. "I wonder if any mage could do that, or just a healer?"
"I certainly couldn't," replied Bethany. "I'm useless at healing magic."
"Well, at least we know you're not quite as helpless as we thought," said Hawke in a relieved tone. I don't suppose you can feel where the cavern walls are too?"
Anders snorted. "Rock isn't alive," he pointed out. "And moss isn't exactly what I'm attuned to feeling in terms of living creatures. I can sense the lyrium in the walls..." His voice tailed off.
"Right, well, we'll keep you clear of the cave walls then," said Hawke briskly, clapping his hands together. "Breakfast I think, and then we should break camp and start looking for a way out of here. Beth, I think you should stick with Anders, make sure he doesn't trip over any potholes he might miss with his staff whilst Fenris scouts on ahead with Varric. Anders, do you still have your maps?"
"Right here," answered Anders as he reached into his pack, locating the old worn parchment by touch then pulling them out and holding them up so Hawke could take them from his hand. Whilst he was aware of where Hawke was standing, he had no clear idea of where Hawke's hand was. He felt the other man pluck the maps from his hand. "You'd better hang onto them; they're no good to me now," he added.
He felt Hawke's hand close over his own fingers as the rogue crouched down in front of him, his breath warm on Anders' face. "Listen, Anders... about what happened yesterday. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking straight. But it's going to be OK. Your sight will come back, and we're going to find a way out of this pit and get back to the surface, alright? And then you'll never have to set foot in the Deep Roads ever again."
"I'll hold you to that," answered Anders. He tried to smile, but suspected he'd failed from the way Hawke's fingers tightened briefly on his before he let go, straightening up as he turned away. A moment later Fenris was at his side, pressing a cup of something hot and steaming into his hand.
"There's a plate to your left with bread and cheese on it," said the elf quietly. "There's a little elfroot and willowbark in the tea."
"How did you know I had a headache?" asked Anders. He blew on the surface of the hot liquid before taking a cautious sip.
"Because I saw you taking lyrium. And I saw how little you took. How much do you have left?"
"Not enough," said Anders, deliberately keeping his tone light. "A little under two vials left. But it's OK, because we'll find a way to the surface and get out of here and I'll be fine. Really."
"Anders..." He felt Fenris' hand upon his shoulder.
"Don't," said Anders in a fierce whisper, feeling the sting of threatening tears in his good eye. "Please. Just... don't. Don't make this harder than it already is. I don't want anyone's pity or condescension; I just want to get out of this fucking pit and away from here to somewhere where I can breathe without the Maker knows how many tons of rock over my head and darkspawn around every corner. Just... just leave me be. I'll be fine."
Fenris' hand fell away. "As you wish," he acceded quietly. Anders felt him move away, and he sighed silently.
They packed up after they'd eaten and taken care of bodily needs, Anders shrugging off Fenris' solicitous hand and stumbling away, feeling his way with his staff and one hand outstretched to find an out of the way spot. Finding his way back was easier; he just had to focus on where he could sense the others and then home in on their presence, feeling his way with his staff for any obstructions in his way. Even so, he was thankful to reach them, and he managed to accept Bethany's arm linking through his with grace. As they headed off through the tunnels, he grew grateful for her presence; between her deft yet silent guidance and his staff, he managed to keep up without stumbling too much.
After a while he realised the blackness was not quite so complete and dark; it seemed more of a very dark red, and when he turned his head he thought he could see slightly lighter patches. Not enough to really see, but it seemed something of his vision was slowly returning.
"Bethany," he said quietly. "Can you call up a little light?"
He felt the pull of magic in the air, and then he grew aware of a faint bloom of red against the darker shadowy void.
"Can you see that?" exclaimed Bethany. He reached out and passed his hand before the light and back again; he could dimly make out the faint shadow of his hand against the dull dark red light.
"Kind of. I can sort of make out where the light is," he replied.
"Then your eyesight is recovering!" she said, delightedly.
"A little," he nodded. "It's not great, but it is at least something."
She squeezed his arm comfortingly. "It's going to be alright, Anders," she said reassuringly. "We're going to get out, and you'll get your sight back, and everything will be OK."
"Funnily enough your brother said the same thing," he said with a lop-sided grin. He was aware of her turning slightly towards him, and wished he could see her face.