A/N: Here's a nice long one for you guys. :)

—

Act One

Chapter Fifteen

Remnants of Anders

"Aveline, how are things?" Paden asked as she approached her friend in the guard barracks. It had been a couple days since Aveline had gotten in trouble with Captain Jevan, and Paden wanted to make sure her friend was all right.

Aveline sighed as she stood up from her seat to face Paden. "Slow," she said. "I've been stuck with desk duty for two days."

Paden smiled. "If you're hurting for excitement you're welcome to come with me sometime. You know I always manage to find some."

"That you do," Aveline agreed. "And you know I'm always here when you need me. Some days a bit more than others. Do you have anything exciting in the cards?"

Paden took a piece of folded paper out of her pocket and handed it to Aveline. "Actually, I found this help wanted poster up in Hightown on my way here. There's a man looking for his missing wife. Says he'll pay a reward to anyone who brings her back safely."

Aveline took a look at the poster and nodded. "Yes, Ghyslain de Carrac. I've heard of him. He's tried to get the guard to investigate his wife's disappearance a few times over the last couple weeks."

Paden frowned slightly. "Tried to? Won't the guard take the case?"

Aveline shook her head. "It's been labeled a domestic matter. His wife has every right to leave him if she wants to."

"But what if she didn't just leave him?" Paden asked. "What if she really is missing?"

Aveline shrugged. "I wasn't on that case," she admitted. "But the guards that were reported nothing unusual after speaking with Ghyslain."

"Well, I'm going to go talk to him anyway, see if I can help. There's a reward after all."

"Let me know what you find out," Aveline said.

Just then one of Aveline's fellow guards approached them. A young woman with short blonde hair. "Aveline! I owe you for clearing that ambush the other day. Saved me a mess of trouble."

Aveline looked at her in surprise. "Brennon, that route was yours?"

"It was," Brennon said with a nod. "Single patrol. I would haven't been dead for sure."

"A lone guard isn't much of a patrol," Paden said.

"Shouldn't need to be," Brennon said. "That route was clear for weeks. First noise out of it was your big fight. The captain reassigned me after he heard what you did, and I passed the satchel to Donnic for his patrol tonight."

"The satchel?" Paden asked.

"Pay and order assignments," Brennon explained. "Captain has us run delivery to the outposts during light duty. It's usually just an updated copy of the roster. Satchel for that night was heavy, though. Anyway, thanks again, Aveline. You're a good one." Brennon inclined her head to both of them and then left.

"So the satchel gets heavy the same day we discover an ambush," Aveline said, moving over to the duty roster.

"You're sure you want to pursue this?" Paden asked. "This is your superior we're talking about."

"If a guard has been put at risk, a good captain would want to know why. And if he's not a good captain, I want to know why."

"I bet there's a perfectly reasonable lie that explains why your captain arranged this," Paden said.

"I'd be willing to hear it," Aveline said. "But not while a guard may be walking into a trap." She began searching the duty roster. "Brennon said Donnic. A good man. Donnic…Donnic…I've got his route. A night walk in Lowtown. Let's go make sure his quiet patrol stays that way."

Paden smiled. "So, some action," she said. "Are you asking for my help again?"

"I could use it," Aveline admitted. "You're not doing anything tonight, are you?"

"Nothing planned, no. Mind if I bring someone else along?"

"Carver again?" Aveline asked, her tone none too thrilled.

Paden laughed. "I don't have to bring him if you'd rather I not. But no, he's not who I was thinking of."

"That dwarf then?"

Paden shook her head. "Though, I'm sure he'd love to come. No, actually I met someone else. A healer from Darktown. Anders."

"Anders? That's a man's name, and doesn't sound dwarven."

"You think I'm only capable of befriending dwarven men?" Paden said in mock hurt.

"So he's human then?"

"Yes he's human. He's a mage, actually, and he runs a free clinic in Darktown."

"Commendable," Aveline said. "He's an apostate then I take it?"

"Aveline, don't," Paden warned. "I know how you feel about apostates. I don't want to get into that with you."

"We're friends, Hawke. I don't betray my friends."

"Does that loyalty extend to friends of friends?" Paden asked. "Because if you turn him in I would consider that a betrayal of our friendship."

"Sounds like he's not bothering anyone," Aveline said, somewhat coldly. "If he keeps it that way then he has nothing to fear from me."

Paden eyed her friend warily for a moment. "I don't know whether to thank you or fear you right now," she admitted.

"Thank me," Aveline said. "I'm doing you a favor."

"Thanks," Paden said flatly.

"So, what about it, Hawke? Do I have your help tonight with Donnic's patrol?"

"Yes, of course," Paden said. "I may or may not bring anyone with me."

—

Later that evening Paden went to visit Anders at his clinic.

"Come on, Anders, it'll be fun."

He glanced over his shoulder at her with an arched eyebrow. "Fun? Wandering around Lowtown at night looking for a lone guardsmen is your idea of fun?"

Paden moved to the end of the table where Anders was working so she could see him better. "Well, maybe not fun, but better than staying here all night doing…whatever it is you're doing." She gestured to the bottles and containers and piles of ingredients on the table.

"I'm mixing healing poultices," Anders said. "And I've been behind with it, and finally have a moment to catch up."

Paden leaned her elbows on the table and gave him a mock pout.

He glanced up at her and chuckled. "You're horrible, you know that?" he said.

"Does that mean you'll come with us?"

"And what about my healing poultices?"

Paden sighed and stood up straight. "If you come with me tonight, I'll stay late and help you finish these."

"You have skill in herbalism?" Anders asked in surprise.

Paden shook her head. "No, but something tells me you'd be a good teacher."

Anders sighed and set down his mortar and pestle. "You realize how hard it is for me to say no to you, don't you?"

Paden only grinned and nodded.

Anders sighed again and threw his arms up in defeat. "Fine, I'll go with you. But I'm holding you to that promise of help later."

"On my honor," Paden said. "Come on, let's go. They're waiting for us at the Hanged Man."

"Who is this we're helping again?" Anders asked as they left his clinic.

"Aveline. She's a friend from Lothering. She's a City Guard, and we're helping her rescue a fellow guard from a possible ambush."

"Right, a City Guard. That's just what I need," Anders said. "You know they're almost as bad as the Templars when it comes to apostates?"

"Yes, I know. But don't worry, Aveline's assured me that your secret is safe with her."

"And why would she do that?"

"She's my friend," Paden said. "She's kept my secret. I trust her."

Anders gave her a sideways glance. "Well, I trust you," he said.

Paden gave him an appreciative smile, and then they fell silent as they climbed the stairs up into Lowtown. As they drew close to the Hanged Man they could see Aveline and Varric standing outside waiting for them.

"There you are," Aveline said. "We've been waiting."

"Good on you, Aveline. But we're here now. This is Anders, by the way."

"Nice to meet you," Aveline said, and then turned to Paden. "We can't waste time, Hawke, Donnic is around here somewhere; we have to find him."

"Right, onward then," Paden said, gesturing for Aveline to lead the way.

They wandered the streets, following Donnic's posted route, hoping they weren't too far behind him to offer aid if need be.

"Aveline, do you have any idea where this ambush might take place?" Paden asked.

Aveline shook her head. "Any place here in Lowtown's as good as any other. We just have to keep a sharp eye. Chances are it'll be in or near a blind alley, though."

"And Lowtown has a lot of those," Anders said.

After a few more minutes of searching, Varric said, "So you're sure this friend of yours is even out here?"

Aveline sighed in irritation. "We haven't covered the entire district yet. But we should be getting close, there aren't a lot of streets left."

"Wait, do you hear that?" Anders asked. They all stopped to listen, and could hear the faint sounds of weapons clashing.

"That's it," Aveline said, and began running toward the sound as she drew her sword. The others followed her, drawing their own weapons.

They came around the corner of a building to find a gang of men attacking a lone guardsman. There were several bodies strewn about, so it was obvious the guard had stood his ground, but just as Paden and the others came upon the scene, the guard was struck down and the attackers began closing in to finish him off.

"Not today!" Aveline called as she rushed into the fray.

Paden stood back at the entrance to the alley with Anders, and they both used offensive spells against the bandits, while Varric picked them off one by one with Bianca.

Then a second wave of bandits came up behind Paden and Anders. Out of habit Paden rushed forward to get out of their reach, then turned around to cast a spell from a safe distance. Anders was still where she left him though, fighting the two bandits with his staff, which was more like a weapon than anything, with a pretty decent blade on one end of it. And the way he wielded it showed that he had considerable skill in weapons combat. He combined that with a couple spells, and in moments the two men were on the ground not moving. Paden was impressed.

Aveline finished off the last bandit, and no more came rushing out. She sheathed her sword and hurried over to the fallen guardsman. He was injured in some way, but not mortally so. Aveline helped him to his feet.

"Who?" He mumbled, a bit disoriented. Then he recognized his rescuer. "Av…Aveline?" He sighed with relief. "You're a beautiful sight."

Aveline smiled, obviously flattered. "Guardsman."

Donnic arched his eyebrows, only just realizing how he must have come across. "I mean…I was on patrol, and they came out of nowhere."

Aveline turned away from him, and Paden could see a red blush on her cheeks.

"I took a few down," Donnic continued. "But there were too many at once. The captain said this route was supposed to be quiet."

Paden noticed a satchel laying on the ground. She crouched down to take a look at its contents.

"The seal of the Viscount," Anders said, looking over her shoulder. "Office details, city accounts."

"Valuable to a guild of thieves," Paden said.

"A sacrificial delivery with one of our own," Aveline said, clenching her fists. "Captain Jevan will answer."

Paden looked up at her. "Exposing this kind of corruption could make the guards look weak."

"Then we look weak," Aveline said. "The others deserve better. This goes to the office of the Viscount. This will be known. The captain likes his thieves so much, let's see if they welcome him in prison."

Paden stood up and handed the satchel to Aveline, then she looked at Donnic. "Are you all right?" she asked.

He nodded. "Yes, I think so."

"Are you sure? If you're injured, Anders here is a healer."

Donnic shook his head. "I'll make it back to the barracks," he said. "Thank you for your help."

"I'll help him back," Aveline said. "Thank you, Hawke."

"Any time, Aveline," Paden said. "Let me know how that goes with the Viscount."

Aveline left with Donnic, leaving the others in the alley.

"Well, I don't know about you two," Varric said. "But all that fighting's made me thirsty. What do you say we head to the Hanged Man to remedy that?"

Paden looked at Anders. "Actually, Varric, tonight I've got something else to do."

Varric arched one eyebrow at her. "Something else? What? You got more bad guys to kill? Don't you ever rest?"

"No, no more bad guys for this evening," Paden assured. "I promised Anders I would help him with something."

Varric eyed her suspiciously. "Oh, I get it," he said with a nod. "You're going to help him with something. Sure."

Paden laughed. "What? I am."

"Uh-huh," Varric said. "You two have fun then."

"Oh, Varric. Anders, tell him."

Anders chuckled. "Tell him what?"

"That I'm helping you make healing poultices, not…doing whatever it is he thinks we're doing."

Varric spread his hands and grinned in mock innocence. "What do you think I think you're going to do?" he said.

"Oh, never mind," Paden said in frustration. "Come on, Anders, the night isn't getting any younger."

Anders chuckled in amusement as he followed her to the entrance to Darktown. "You get riled easily," he remarked.

Paden let out a breath and willed herself to relax. "Yes, I am very aware of that curse on my life," she said. "My father used to say it's because of my hair. He said red hair sets people on fire."

"An interesting explanation," Anders said. "But it does seem like red-haired individuals have more fiery personalities than others. So maybe that's true."

"It was a lot worse when I was younger," Paden admitted. "I've been working to temper it the last few years." She laughed. "I used to sit on my brother and pound him with my fists to settle an argument, now I just give him a friendly jolt with lightening."

Anders chuckled and nodded. "Shooting lightening at fools. One of my personal favorites. I knew there was a reason I liked you."

They arrived at the clinic, and Anders pulled a second chair over to the table that served as his apothecary, and gestured for Paden to take a seat.

"So, how does one make a healing poultice anyway?" she said as she sat down.

"Well, I'll show you," Anders said as he took off his coat and draped it over the back of his chair. He sat down across from her and began gathering ingredients, setting them in front of her. "You know what, I think I'll write down the amounts of each of these for your reference." He took a stubby sick of charcoal out of his pocket and began to scribble on a small scrap of paper.

Paden watched him, noticing how a few strands of his blond hair had escaped the tie at the back of his head, and were falling across his forehead, tickling his eyebrow. He blew a puff of hair up at the offending strand, but when that didn't work he smoothed it behind his ears with his fingers.

Paden smiled slightly feeling like she could sit just like that forever. She so enjoyed being in his company. Even while doing such a mundane thing as this. Did he feel even remotely the same way about her? She was too afraid to ask him after the way he shut her down before, so she kept her wonderings to herself.

Anders finished scribbling and slid the paper across the table. "Mash all these ingredients together in this," he said, and set a mortar and pestle in front of her.

Paden reviewed the list and nodded. "Looks easy enough," she said. "I have to admit, I never bothered to learn any of the healing arts. Until recently anyway."

"It's not an easy skill to master," Anders said. "I've met very few mages who are healers. What recently piqued your interest?"

"Not long ago, my brother was almost killed by a malificar," Paden said as she carefully measured a brownish powder. "I wished I had healing skills then. I learned a basic revival technique from my father's grimoire and was able to save Carver. But it made me see that in our line of work we can't be too careful."

"I could teach you a few healing spells if you'd like," Anders offered. "You're right, being prepared is better than being dead. Dead is bad, as I always say."

"Thank you," Paden said, looking up at him with a grateful smile. "I'll probably take you up on that."

They each measured ingredients in silence for a moment.

"So, you're from Lothering," Anders said eventually.

Paden nodded. "I grew up there."

"You were lucky to escape," Anders said.

Paden shook her head, forcing her expression to remain unchanged. "We didn't all escape. We lost my sister. She was killed by an ogre."

"I'm sorry," Anders said softly. "How old was she?"

"Just eighteen," Paden said, clenching her teeth as the dagger of grief twisted a little bit. She changed the subject quickly. "Do you have any family?"

Anders shrugged. "Not any I know of. My parents shipped me off to the Circle in handcuffs when I was twelve. I never saw them again."

Paden looked at him in shock. "Why would they do that?"

"My father was afraid of me," Anders said with a shrug. "I accidentally burned down our barn with magic. So, off to the Circle I went." He chuckled bitterly. "You are very fortunate that your parents loved you enough to keep you away from that prison. Most mage children aren't so lucky."

Paden looked at him for a moment. He seemed to make light of something that was obviously very painful for him. A coping mechanism? Most likely. Sometimes it was easier to pretend it didn't matter as much as it did. Paden knew all about that.

"My father was a Circle mage," she said. "He escaped to marry my mother. He never wanted his daughters to have the life he ran from."

"Your father was a good man," Anders said.

"He was the best," Paden agreed. "He never talked about his life in the Circle though. I don't know why."

"They couldn't have been happy memories for him," Anders said bitterly. "They surely weren't for me."

"How did you escape the Circle?" Paden asked.

Anders sputtered a laugh and sighed dramatically. "Oh, let me count the ways."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Paden asked, amused.

"It means I've escaped the Circle so many times, you'd have to count them all on two hands."

"Seriously? You were recaptured that many times? The Circle in Ferelden must be a lot more lenient than the one here in Kirkwall. Here they would have just executed you."

"That's what they say." He shook his head. "But seriously, they couldn't keep me. I never understood why I had to be forced to live in a prison simply because I was born. Andraste's words were that magic must not rule over man. It is not ruling to simply wish for the same rights as any man. Doesn't every mage deserve the freedom you've had?"

"Yes," Paden said. "But…was it really that bad in the Circle?" She hopped she wasn't overstepping her bounds. This was obviously a sensitive topic for him, and his ability to keep it lighthearted was slipping, she could see that.

"You have no idea," Anders said, the timbre of his voice changing slightly, becoming deeper with whatever emotion the conversation was stirring in him. "In the Circle it's all about rules and regulations and the Templars. You're watched, day and night. They read your mail and your diaries to make sure you're not plotting against them. You have to keep everything secret, even your affections for other mages, because if the Templars found out, they could use your feelings against you, exploit your weakness. The children there grow up knowing nothing about the outside world. I knew mages my age who had never set food on a blade of grass, or felt the rain on their skin. And then, if they suspect that you might be a malificar, they execute you, or worse, make you tranquil. And you have no rights, no advocates, no chance for salvation."

He clenched his fists and then rested his head in his hands. "It's hard to believe that Karl is dead," he said softly. "And at my hand."

Paden nodded. She had wondered how he had been doing in regards to Karl. He hadn't mentioned his friend since that night, and seemed to have put it behind him. But the oposite was obviously true.

Suddenly he slammed his hands down on the table, causing Paden to jump. "Damn the Templars! I should have come to Kirkwall sooner."

Paden stared at him, her heart pounding as she carefully set her mortar and pestle down, not taking her eyes off Anders. He was quite agitated by now, and could no longer sit still. He stood up, running his fingers through his hair.

"I'm sorry," Paden said with growing unease. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"It isn't you," Anders said through clenched teeth, pacing slightly. "It's the bloody Templars! You know how it is. They don't see us as people. They don't care that Karl was someone's son…someone's friend. If you're born with magic, they hear about it. They search your little rat-spit village and find you. They tell your parents they'll be thrown in prison if they ever ask about you, stripped of their rights in the eyes of the Maker."

Suddenly a familiar blue-white light flashed in Anders' eyes, and seeped out of him as though through cracks in his skin.

"And if you run away," he said, voice straining for control. "They hunt you down, again, and again, and again."

Paden stood up slowly, taking a step back from the table. Anders' eyes returned to normal a second later, and he seemed unaware of what just happened.

"Your…eyes were glowing again," she said hesitantly.

He looked at her with such a sorrowful expression it nearly broke her heart. "And since yours is the only head here, and I don't want to rip it off, I should stop," He said, and rubbed his forehead. "Yes. Sorry," he added softly.

Paden hesitated a moment, not sure what she should do or say now. His little rant seemed to be over, but she still kept the table between them anyway for the time being. How could she redeem this moment? Was it even possible?

"Could we just…go back to friendly chatter while mixing herbs?" she asked hopefully.

"I wish it were that easy," Anders said, his voice filled with regret. "But this…voice inside me, this drive for justice… When I think about the Templars, it's unbearable."

Paden wished she could help him, but this was all strange territory for her. She had no idea what to do or say to make it better. Chances are she would only make it worse.

"This is what I warned you about," Anders said softly, staring down at the floor. "This is who I am." He sighed. "I think… it's time for you to go. I need to be alone." He turned away from her and went over to a chair that sat facing the fire pit in the far corner. He sat down and buried his face in his hands.

Paden watched him for a moment, and then went to the door. She turned around to look at him one last time, feeling her heart breaking. But not because of anything he did or said, but because of how she felt for him and was unable to help him. As she walked home she wondered what Anders must have been like before Justice influenced his personality. What sort of person was he? Even now he seemed to have a strong affinity for the downtrodden and helpless. Was that part of who he was, or was that Justice as well? He said that no one can tell where he ended and Justice began, but Paden wasn't so sure that was true. In the short time she had known him she'd seen two very different sides of him. There was this…almost remnant, if you will, of a lighthearted, caring side that tried desperately to show itself, to break free of its oppression from Justice.

Paden wanted to get to know that Anders, to draw out that part of him as much as she could. To help Anders become the more dominate personality, if that were even possible. Somehow there must be a way for him to master the spirit within. Maybe all he needed was someone who cared about him enough to help him.

—

Anders sighed as he glanced over his shoulder at Paden disappearing through his door. Would he ever see her again? He wouldn't blame her if she never came back, in fact, he expected she never would. He was a monster, dangerous and unpredictable. He had warned her, and now she had been the brunt of it herself. She would be wise never to return.

Instead of making him feel better, that rationale only made him feel worse. It was his fault she had left. His fault they were no longer happily chatting while making poultices. His fault he would likely never see her again.

Did he want to see her again?

Yes he did. He could admit that to himself without hesitation. There was something about her that drew him.

Like a moth to the flame.

He snorted at that analogy. No, not a moth to a flame, a hummingbird to a flower, a kitten to sweet milk…

She's a distraction.

He had to agree with that one. Since he met her four days ago—yes he had counted them—he couldn't stop thinking about her. With everything else going on in his life, everything else demanding his attention, she somehow managed to twine herself around every thought he had. Throughout the day he would catch himself wondering what she was she doing. Those green eyes of hers would dance before his vision, the memory of them as clear as any real moment. The compassion he saw in them disarmed him. Knowing what he was, knowing what he had done, what he was capable of doing…none of it seemed to matter to her. When she looked at him there was no judgement in her gaze, no disgust, no anger. None of the emotions he was used to seeing in the eyes of those who knew.

But he had seen fear in her eyes, and the knowledge that he was the reason for it twisted his gut.

You did warn her.

Yes, he had. So did that mean he was justified to frighten her, to hurt her with his words and actions, because he had warned her in advance? No! She didn't deserve that from him. She deserved gratitude, a smile, a hug. She deserved flowers…

Stop it!

She deserved compliments and praises. She deserved all her dreams coming true and all her fears and worries banished.

Stop it! Those are not your responsibilities.

He shook his head as he stared into the fire. No, perhaps they weren't, but he sure wanted them to be. She was what his lonely heart had been searching for for so long. He knew that the moment he saw her walk into his clinic. He had known it so definitely that he had not been able to keep it from his voice or his words, and he had shown his feelings to her prematurely, only to turn around and crush her obvious hope. The look of disappointment in her eyes had nearly made him take it back.

It was for the best. Better to stop it before it could even begin than to drag it out unnecessarily.

That was probably true, but it did not make him feel better about it.

Abruptly a memory from Amaranthine dashed to the surface. A comment he had made to the Warden Commander.

"All I want is a pretty girl, a decent meal and the right to shoot lightening at fools."

She had agreed that that wasn't an unreasonable dream. And even though he had veiled the comment in witty sarcasm, he had meant every word from the bottom of his heart. All he had ever wanted was the freedom to live his life in peace. A life of happiness and plenty, and a woman at his side to share it with.

But what did he have? Life as a fugitive, always looking over his shoulder for the Templars or the Wardens that would inevitably come and drag him back. An empty stomach that rarely knew what if felt like to be full, as every coin he received as a donation went directly to the needs of his clinic and his patients. An overwhelming sense of loneliness that left him near despair more and more often lately. Many a night he would fall asleep against a wet pillow, and then wake with no desire to rise.

You are fighting for those rights. You are fighting so that one day those dreams can come true.

Yes, he was. But was he fighting for himself or on behalf of others? As selfish and self-centered he had been his whole life, the big decisions, the ones that really mattered, had always come down to how they affected others. He could not bear to hurt people, to see them hurt or suffering. That's why he had become a healer, so he could try in some small way to heal the hurts he saw in the world. Was he fighting for the freedom of mages so that he could prosper from the outcome?

No. If he was doing this for himself then he would not be doing it at all. He was doing it for them. For every other young man out there that had the same dreams as he. He knew he would not live to see those dreams come true for himself. He knew that with a certainty that pierced his heart.

But to be happy…for a little while…

He drew a ragged breath and dragged his fingers under his eyes to catch the moisture that had unwittingly collected there.

Happiness had eluded him most of his life. He had found little moments here and there, but a true, deeply fulfilling happiness had forever remained a spectral idea, like a mirage on the horizon; unapproachable and unattainable.

Seeing her for the first time had allowed him to finally grasp a small thread of that happiness, and he was reluctant and more than a little stubborn about letting it go.

She is a distraction.

Again he could not argue with that. But oh, what a wonderful distraction she was.

—

A/N: Once again, thank you to all my readers and reviewers. You guys are the best.