Leliana

The sun began to go down, painting the sky a beautiful mosaic of reds, indigos, and violets. I held Salem in my arms, feeling at peace for the first time in what seemed like forever. Her breath was still ragged with tears; her body shook with fine tremors of exhaustion.

How near the edge were you, I wondered, pressing my lips against her hair. How close to collapse? I turned away from you...I abandoned you when you needed me. But I'm here now. Please, forgive me.

I moved my hand from Salem's wasit and brushed the hair out of my face. My hand felt wet, sticky. I glanced at it and paled when I saw blood there.

"Salem, are you all right?" I asked, thinking that she must have re-opened her wound during the fight with Eirik. Or while burying the boy.

"I will be." her answer made me smile.

Her iron facade had faltered and the part of herself that she longed to be true to showed. Her calm. Her peace. Her acceptance of the present and the serenity with which she faced the most uncertain of futures.

"Are you in any pain?" I wondered how my voice remained calm. Perhaps it was this stolen moment shared with her and the tranquility of the setting sun.

"No. Why?" she shifted, her instinct still to meet my eyes.

Then, I began to worry.

"You're bleeding." I told her, moving aside her shirt to see her bandages stained red. The wound had not been deep, or severe. What made me anxious was Salem's utter lack of concern...or reaction.

I pressed my hand against the bandage and looked for a response, a wince, a gasp...anything. Salem merely sat there, unfazed by the added pressure and discomfort. "Can you not feel this?" I asked, mystified.

She shook her head with an air of...resignation?

I did not feel it...those had been her words when Wynne informed her of the injury. I had thought it was battle fever, or perhaps shock from having killed the boy. Apparently, it had been something else. I inhaled deep, reining in my emotion. We did not need another argument. I could not bear to let something come between us again. Seeing her this vulnerable, shedding tears for lost life and dreams...it reminded me of what was precious, of what mattered to me above all.

I wanted to see her through this, embrace her at the end of the road, and help her heal the wounds in body and spirit. For that, I would turn away from anger and forsake fear.

"What is it?" I asked, waiting for her to deflect the question, or shrug off the inquiry.

Salem sighed. "I do not know." she replied. "Ever since we left Denerim, my side has continued to go numb. It was random at first...but I haven't felt anything there since we entered Haven."

Why did you not tell me...you stubborn, thoughtless, foolish, mindless...I love you and I worry! Must you always do this? Must you always insist on walking alone through blades and brambles?

"Why..." I stilled my tongue, regained my composture, and spoke again. "You should have told me."

"I know." Salem ran her hand through her hair and sighed. "It seems I can offer you nothing of late but apologies. I wanted to tell you but I..."

"Did not wish me to worry." I shook my head and laughed a little. "As if I do not wake and sleep worrying for you. I panic at the sight of blood on your skin, even when it belongs to another. Please, this must change. For me, for yourself, please, Salem. It is a small favor, but it is all I ask."

"You have every right to." she did not argue. Her voice was flat, void of emotion. "It is...difficult...to break my nature, Leliana."

"I understand." I cupped her face with my hand, rubbing my thumb across her high cheekbone, admiring the delicate strength of her features. "All I ask is that you try."

"I promise." she agreed.

"Come." I rose, reluctant to leave, but necessity, as always, pushed us forward. "We need to talk to Wynne."

Salem heaved yet another heavy sigh. "As you say." she managed a smile and extended her hand. I helped her to her feet, frowning at the blood that stained her shirt.

We found Wynne ensconced in a small house. Genitivi lay on a bed in the back of the single room, asleep. The senior enchanter rinsed blood from her hands and glanced up to greet us. "Salem, Leliana, is all well?"

"For the moment." Salem answered. "How is he?"

"He will be fine." Wynne rolled her shoulders. Her eyes had dark circles beneath them and her fingers tremored with exhaustion. "With the Maker's grace, I even managed to save his leg. With support, he should be able to take us to the temple in the morning. Is there anything you need?"

"Salem's cut re-opened." I spoke before my lover could downplay the damage done. "And she can feel nothing in her right side."

Wynne's eyebrows arched. She walked to Salem and lifted her shirt, pressing in the skin as I had. Again, there was no reaction. A blue glow spun from Wynne's hand and licked along the edges of Salem's wound. The warden despised healing magic. For most, it caused mild discomfort. Salem said it felt worse than receiving the injury it mended."

"You are not feeling this?" Wynne asked, a note of anxiety layered in the calm.

"No. No sensation. No touch or pain or heat or cold." Salem's voice shook.

This had been troubling her a great deal. I could see that now. But she had not spoken, holding out hope for the Urn; that it would take away whatever malady this was and she would not have to worry about it. Hope, that which I had feared she had forgotten, still burned deep within her.

"This does not bode well." Wynne mused, poking and prodding at Salem's side. But Salem gave no response.

Even when Wynne dug her nails into the shallow furrow across Salem's torso, my warden showed nothing. What could possibly be doing this, I wondered.

"Leliana," Wynne's voice jarred me, "what are the exact effects of Andraste's Flames?"

Why? Why would that be important? "It weakens the veins, making it difficult to heal." I answered, remembering that horrible night when Salem had given her life for me. "And it hyper-sensitizes the nerves, making even the slightest touch excruciating."

"And the antidote?" Wynne continued her questioning of me.

"Neutralizes the poison, of course...deadening the nerves." I caught the healer's thoughts.

"What does this mean?" Salem asked. "I...I do not understand."

"When the antidote was administered," Wynne explained and I cringed, remembering Salem's bewildered eyes as I plunged a blade near her heart, "you had an immense amount of magic coursing through your veins. I think perhaps it accelerated the antidote, expounded the effects...numbed you entirely."

"Maker's blood-soaked breath." Salem pinched the bridge of her nose. "Can I do nothing right? I cannot even receive an antidote."

"Salem, I will not lie, this is quite dangerous." Wynne's voice was clinically detached. "You did not even feel it when you were cut. And it may spread beyond your right side to other parts of your body."

If the effects did branch out...she could not feel her swords in her hands. An enemy would disarm her and she would be completely unaware. This is almost worse than blindness.

"All the more reason to find the Urn." Salem muttered. Dark humor crackled beneath her smile. "Let us see if these atrocious people managed to hide away some wine. We can toast the fact that I am not actively dying."

I wrapped my arms around her, holding her tight. I hope this gets no worse. I do not know what I would do if she could no longer feel my touch.

"I would rather find a quiet place." I whispered.

Uncaring that Wynne was in the room, Salem kissed me, deep, memorizing the feel of my lips and the contours of my face. "I agree." she smiled.

"Thank you, Wynne." Salem touched the healer's shoulder as we left.

"Be careful, child." she counseled.

"As you say."

We walked out under the moon and I shivered. Salem wrapped her arm around my shoulders and pulled me tight to her. There was a lightness in her step that I did not understand.

"Salem, are you all right?" I asked.

"I love you." she did not answer, but I found myself smiling.

"But..."

"It is not killing me, Leliana." she anticipated my question. "I was so afraid that I would make you relive Denerim. That terrified me more than anything, more than not being able to feel a knife going through my skin. I never wanted to hurt you again. Not like that. I suppose I am...happy?"

She questions her joy. I leaned into her embrace and she pressed her lips against my hair. And she shrugs off this new challenge because I will not be hurt by it. I love this woman. Maker, keep her safe, please.

We found a quiet place, sequestered, away from the stark buildings of Haven and the fire the others had built. Stars peered out from the ink-dark of midnight and I could swear they were singing. We lay down and gazed at them, thinking separate thoughts, dreaming separate dreams. But we were together.

I tucked my head against Salem's shoulder; wrapped my arm about her waist.

"Sweet dreams, Leliana." she whispered.

They were.