The air in Kirkwall was thick with smoke. Anders didn't want to breathe it in too deeply, didn't want to face the story that the choking odor of it told, the dead whose remains were mingled in that pungent airborne ash. Thanks to Hawke's efforts there would be time to dwell on the right or the wrong of what he'd done, but for now he needed only to think of getting back to the ship before the Knight Captain's mercy reached its end. He was certain that at any moment the Templars would be after them again, eager to close the head start Captain Cullen had granted. The others seemed to have the same worry; walking at a fast clip toward Isabella's ship, Hawke and the others kept casting backward glances to check that the gate to the Gallows remained undisturbed. Aveline and Fenris looked to Anders as often as they looked to the gate, apparently uncertain if they were in greater danger from him or the Templars. It stung more than he'd thought it would.

Isabella was the first to reach the ship and waved for the others to hurry and board. Each member of their party jogged across the extended gangway to the deck of the ship at Isabella's urging. Anders, at the rear of the group, was last to arrive. Before he could board, Fenris blocked his way, arms folded and face unyielding.

"We don't have time for this," Anders said tensely checking behind him again.

"He's right, Fenris," came Hawke's voice and a placating hand on her lover's shoulder. "You can have at each other when we're safely out of the Templars' path."

Fenris glared at Hawke with as much contempt as he'd extended to Anders, but he obeyed, muttering "Foolish, very foolish," as he made way for Anders to pass.

Anders felt a spark of selfish satisfaction that his actions had seeded discord between them, a pleasant warmth that spread through his cheeks before quickly turning to shame. He might take pleasure in Fenris' misery, but not Hawke's. "Thank you," he said simply, walking across the springy slats of wood that bridged the gap between the dock and the ship.

With everyone on board, Hawke grabbed the left side of the gangway. "Aveline, give me a hand with this," she called to her brawny friend.

Aveline stepped to Hawke's side, but didn't move to lift the board. "Hawke, no," Aveline said firmly. Her husband Donnic close at heel kept an eye on Anders and a hand on his blade.

Hawke laughed more out of anxious exhaustion than her usual levity. "Aveline, this isn't the time."

"It has to be," Aveline said simply. "I can't leave, Kirkwall. Not now."

Hawke released the board and stood up. "We have to go," she said, matching her friend's determined tone.

"You have to go. I understand that. The Templars here will be out for blood, and any mage who stays behind will be a target." Her eyes flited briefly to Anders before returning to Hawke. "But I have a duty to this city, and I can't ignore the hand I played in all this… chaos!"

Hawke flushed and Ander's shame deepened knowing that Hawke, like Aveline, felt a duty to this city, a duty she couldn't act on. "Aveline, you didn't have to…" Hawke began shakily.

"Don't," Aveline said, her hand slicing the tense air between them. "You know I did. What else could I have done? Cut you down?"

"Definitely not my preference."

"I trust you enough to believe you made the best of a bad set of options. Your hand was forced, and so was mine. But now I have choices, and I choose to stay and try to put this mess right."

Hawke's eyes glinted either from the smoke or feeling. "We've been together through all of this," Hawke said shaking her head.

Aveline grasped Hawke's left forearm with her left hand, a gesture Hawke returned. "We have," Aveline said with her characteristic curt warmth. "Be safe, Hawke."

Hawke smiled wanly. "You too."

Fenris shook Aveline's and Donnic's hands wordlessly, and Hawke gave Donnic a farewell pat on the shoulder before the two disembarked. Anders wasn't sorry to see them go, except insofar as he regretted Hawke's separation from a close friend. He'd half expected Aveline to demand he remain in Kirkwall himself and face charges; and part of him regretted that she hadn't. Whatever surety he felt in the rightness of his actions, he also seethed at the injustice of his continuing to live and be free while innocent victims had unwillingly payed the price for mage liberation. Still, he wanted to believe that Hawke was right to shield him from harm, that he could do more good for mages across Thedas, could lead other Circles to rise up against their Templar jailers. But another part of him, the part that was not Justice, rebelled against the thought of having more blood on his hands, no matter the justice of his motives.

Hawke and Fenris raised the gangway together while Isabella and Varric wound the capstan to unmoor the ship. Soon The Siren's Call II was at sea. Isabella barked orders from the helm while the others struggled with her nautical slang and emphatic pointing. "No, not that one!" she shouted to a perplexed Varric who froze in his fumbling with a rope. "It's the one with the… Oh, never mind, I'll do it myself. You just hold her steady!"

Anders leaned his forearms against the deck railing and looked across the increasing distance between him and Kirkwall. For all its failings, all the myriad reasons he hated this city, it had been his home for the better part of the last decade, and he was leaving people behind whom he would miss. Those wretched souls of Darktown, left to rot and be forgotten by the rich and powerful. He'd made a life among them, found family in people like Marni. And found a grounding purpose in caring for them when no one else would. Binding their wounds, delivering their children, nursing them to health through every blasted illness that swept relentlessly through the populace. If not for Justice, he might have found peace in that. Instead, here he was, fleeing again, as he had fled from the Circle, again and again, as he had fled from Amaranthine, each time leaving behind those he cared for. He closed his eyes against the pain of it, wondering if he could ever be the sort of person who could find a solid place to stand. Not likely with Justice constantly growling in his thoughts.

Angry whispers from across the deck snapped Anders' attention. He opened his smoke stung eyes and turned to see Hawke trying to calm a furious Fenris. Anders strained to hear the content of their argument, but could guess at it based on Fenris gesturing in his direction to punctuate his rant. "He should not be here!" the elf said forcefully.

Hawke shushed him, responding in a quiet measured tone, "This isn't up for debate, Fenris. It's done."

"It's not done," Fenris said, his voice raised. "He's an abomination! Even you should see that now."

Hawke widened her stance and crossed her arms. "Stop," she said, her voice commanding and firm. "I've made my decision. He's staying."

Fenris took a menacing step toward her. "And why is it your decision to make?"

Hawke snorted and rolled her eyes. "Really, Fenris? Did I somehow miss the part where you took command of this merry band of misfits? This is my call, and if you don't like it, I'll have Isabella drop you off in Ostwick."

"Is that what you want?" Fenris asked in a furious whisper. "For me to leave?"

Hawke's shoulders dropped and she rolled her head back with an exasperated grunt. "Of course not," she said blandly. "But I've made my decision in this, and I'm not changing my mind just because you're feeling testy."

"Testy?" Fenris snapped. "He is responsible for the deaths of hundreds!" he shouted, pointing at Anders again and turning the heads of everyone on deck who wasn't already eavesdropping on their quarrel.

"I'm sure it wasn't that many," Merrill piped in, earning her a vicious snarl from Fenris.

"It certainly wasn't that many," Anders mumbled to himself as his face heated with familiar anger at the elf's tendency to paint him the monster.

"This doesn't concern you," Fenris snapped at Merrill.

"Ho, ho!" Hawke laughed wryly, throwing her hands up. "And why not? You said the decision shouldn't be mine, so it stands to reason that everyone should have a vote. Should we start a poll?"

Fenris' shook his head and sighed. He no doubt knew that Hawke's position would have greater support if for no other reason than because it was Hawke's position. He couldn't hope to command the loyalty of these people in the way she did, and the realization took some of the steam out of his anger. "Have it your way, Hawke," he said, turning from her to go. "I only hope your foolishness hasn't damned us all." Fenris stomped away and threw open the hatch to the lower decks. He gave Hawke one last bitter glare before descending out of sight.

Hawke pressed the palm of her hand to her forehead to still the throbbing that Fenris had no doubt brought to bear. She was flushed, and Anders could see the tension in her neck from where he stood. He watched her for a while, waffling on whether or not to go to her. Everyone else was giving her space, no doubt unsettled by the rare sight of Hawke fuming mad. But Anders' key role in Hawke's and Fenris' argument made the muscles in his shoulder twinge with guilt. So, with a deep breath to steel himself, Anders crossed the deck to Hawke's side.

As he approached, Hawke exhaled heavily. "He's just being Fenris. He won't do anything," she said wearily.

"I'm not worried about that," Anders said softly. "I wanted to make sure you're alright."

Hawke smiled sardonically. "Of course I'm alright," she said with mock brightness. "Why wouldn't I be alright?"

There was a time when he would have joked back, joined in her effort to lighten the mood. But the years had weighed on Anders, and he no longer had that lightness in him, as much as he still admired it in her. "I'm sorry he's taking this out on you."

She snorted. "He knows I won't allow him to take you on directly. It's just venting. After a good night's sleep, he'll be back to his surly self."

Anders shook his head. "He wasn't just venting. He thinks you should have killed me."

"Oh is that what he was getting at? Why didn't he just say so?" she looked at Anders, hoping for a smile. But Anders couldn't manage one, not even for her. "Fenris is just going to have to accept that I don't execute my friends, no matter how off the rails they go."

Anders frowned. "Off the rails?" The words stung.

She laughed. "You did blow up a Chantry, Anders. I understand why you did it, but it was hardly a committee-approved solution."

Anders' nostrils flared. "Don't make light of this, Hawke. What I did…" His throat tightened with the self-loathing that flared as he thought of the lives lost that day. How could any end justify that? "Maybe you should kill me," he said darkly, "before I hurt anyone else."

"Stop that," she said putting her head on his shoulder. The warmth from her contact made the world whole again, if only for a moment. They stood there for a long while in silence, listening to the creaking of the ship and sloshing of the waves. As the sun sank below the horizon, most of the others made their way to the barracks. Only Isabella at the wheel, Anders, and Hawke remained. Hawke's sleepy whisper cut through the quiet: "I'm sorry."

Her apology startled him. "For Fenris? That's hardly your…"

She straightened up and faced him, and Anders saw the tears that streaked her face. "Not for Fenris." Her lip quivered, and Anders had to resist the urge to hold her, knowing that it wasn't his place.

"For what, then?" he asked gently.

"For failing you," she said, a sob breaking through.

"What?" he said incredulously, completely shaken by her words and unconcealed feeling. "You haven't…"

She held up her hand to quiet him. "I did. You were drowning, and I didn't see it, or couldn't admit it to myself. I left you to be slowly smothered by Justice when I should have recognized that you were losing yourself to him."

Hawke's guilt cut deeper than her judgement ever could have. He grasped her arms fervently. "You can't blame yourself. If what I did today was wrong, it's my shame to carry. Not yours. Never yours."

Hawke shook her head. "I was too damned caught up in my family, the Qunari, and Meredith. I didn't understand what Justice was doing to you. What he made you do… I shouldn't have let it happen."

Anders turned from her, his face contorting with a mix of anger, shame, and love. "Stop taking responsibility!" he shouted. "You always do this! You can't change everything or everyone; you don't have that much power. Whatever Justice has turned me into is my fault, no one else's. There's nothing you could have done. Not now, not ever."

He heard Hawke sigh behind him. "I don't accept that. No matter how strong Justice' hold on you is, I still see the part of you that is Anders. And I promise, we'll find a way to make this right again."

He whirled on her, outraged by her suggestion. "There's nothing to make right! Don't you get it? The good and the bad, the monster and the man. It's all me! Justice can't be boiled off like water from a salt solution." He reached into his boot and pulled out a small knife. Hawke took a step back but he caught her wrist and closed her fingers around the knife's hilt. He pulled her close and put the blade to his throat. "If you want to be rid of Justice, you can kill us now. No one would blame you. Maker, they'd probably thank you!" He wanted her to do it; his eyes pleaded with her.

Hawke, flushed and furious, kicked him smartly in the shins and pulled away when his grip loosened. She threw the knife overboard and returned to Anders to punch him in the jaw before making for the hatch to the lower deck. He almost laughed at how good it felt to have her justified anger redirected at him, the proper target.

"You deserved that one," Isabella said from the helm.

Anders rubbed his jaw. "I deserved far more."

Isabella shrugged. "At least you have the balls to admit it."