Notes: Thank you for your interest and support as always. There's a nice treat at the end of this chapter!

Song inspiration is "Shake It Out" by Florence + the Machine.


Chapter 16: Cut It Out and Then Restart


Anders awoke the next morning to find that he had, at some point in the night, rolled onto his back—but that he had pulled Caitlyn along with him. She was nestled against him, making a pillow of his chest, an arm draped loosely around his waist still. It was very pleasant, and he reflected with a smile that his travels in the Fade really had been much better since she had joined him. He doubted that she would always be able to keep him from having nightmares, but if their presence next to each other decreased the frequency that they both, apparently, suffered, that could only be a good thing.

She yawned herself awake, the arm around his waist rubbing in semiconscious affection. She obviously didn't intend it to have this effect, but Anders tensed, his jaw set, as he found himself trying not to focus too much on that... he was already beginning to feel himself grow hard at her movement, and this was one thing that he really did not think they were ready for again yet...

Mercifully, she raised her arm from him and stretched awake. As she blinked her vision into focus, she smiled at him. "Good morning," she said, showing no discomfort or regret whatsoever for spending the night in his bed. That was a good sign.

"Morning," he responded softly, gazing into her eyes. It had been such a very long time. Even their first shared night in Kirkwall, they had not actually cuddled. He felt a pang at the thought that if the Templars had not taken him away, they might have been waking up together for years. We would have been married for four years, he thought, officially so, if Malcolm could have found a sympathetic priest, and by the common law if not. We probably would have had a second child and possibly a third. He suddenly felt sick at the thought that they had had all the children they ever could.

Of late, he was perceiving a new conviction of Justice's, the spirit's confidence that its presence was lessening the effects of the Taint, especially since Anders had allowed him houseroom so soon after taking the Joining—before the poison could really take hold. Justice seemed very confident that his Spirit Healing effects could prevent Anders from experiencing the Calling... another horrible Warden secret that I'll have to tell her sooner or later, he thought, but I'll wait until Justice knows for sure that he can do it—or not. Even if he can, he hasn't been able to keep me from having the Warden nightmares or feeling hungrier than I did before I became a Warden... though I don't feel quite as hungry as I did before we merged. Justice believes the magical source of the corruption truly is the Black City and that he can block the worst of it as a good spirit of the Fade, but fertility is extremely delicate—like dreaming. Anders did not hold out much hope that Justice could counter that particular effect, and the spirit was not indicating that to Anders either. Mal was it, then, most likely. The large family he'd hoped to have—and that he believed Caitlyn had wanted someday too—would not happen.

I didn't think I would have anything at all with her until we met again. We can have other things, he thought, trying to be positive. We can wake up together again many times. Hopefully it won't be too much longer. He turned to her with a smile on his face. "I know you only brought one change of clothing, but... you do have another home here." A real home, he thought, not one that belongs to a profligate, alcoholic uncle.

She raised a hand to his cheek and caressed him gently. "I'm very angry at my uncle still, but I suppose I need to try to make amends with what remains of my family. But... the Deep Roads treasure... once Carver and I recover the Amell manor, if we can of course, you know..." She trailed off awkwardly, concerned that she was making too many assumptions. What if he wanted to stay?

His eyes widened. He was surprised at what she had hinted at, but very pleased.


They were getting the clinic ready for another day of activity—and Mal was fascinated with a crate of bound, dried herbs—when a knock sounded on the outside door. Anders immediately strode to the entrance, expecting a patient, but when he opened the door, Carver Hawke stood before him.

"Oh," he said, stepping aside. "Come in. She's over there."

Carver was already making a beeline for his sister, who tried her best to suppress a scowl. The scene last night had not been Carver's fault, and it would be unfair to take it out on him—unless he is doing Uncle Gamlen's bidding now and took his side after all, she thought balefully.

Carver stood before her. "Mother sent me to say... she did talk with Uncle Gamlen this morning, and he says that he is sorry and that you and Mal are welcome to return home."

Caitlyn glowered past Carver. "Are we. What about Anders? He's the one Uncle Gamlen actually ordered out of the house last night, for no reason that I can see other than an act of spite against me, to try to shame me. I was the one who was harsh with him, after all, not Anders. I don't particularly care to live at a place where my... where Mal's father is not welcome."

Anders had looked up again, startled, at Caitlyn's aborted sentence. He wondered what she had almost said. Her... what? he thought. What are we right now?

Carver sighed. "He didn't say anything about Anders, but Mother put him in his place..."

"That's hard for me to believe somehow. I hardly see her stand up to him on anything. It's why I always have to be the 'bad' one."

Anders finally spoke up. "He is your uncle, and your mother and brother live with him, and if he's sorry—or even if your mother just got him to claim that he is—you should at least speak to him."

Caitlyn was stunned, and a little hurt, if she had to be honest. He had just said that she had another home. Didn't he mean it? He probably means exactly what he just said, she tried to reassure herself as she gently pulled Mal away from the herbs and prepared to leave with her dog and her brother. That's all that there is to it. He doesn't want me estranged from my remaining family.

Mal gave his mother a pouty face. "I want to stay with Father," he pleaded. "I don't want to go back there."

She glanced at Anders, asking permission silently. He assented with a nod, then turned to the child. "You'll have to let me do my work when people come in to be healed," he said.

Mal nodded at once. "I like watching you work. It's... int'r'sting." He struggled a bit with the long word, making both of his parents smile.

Anders spoke up again as Caitlyn and her dog left with Carver. "Lowtown... is better than what I can offer," he muttered, his face cast down as they were leaving.

This comment seemed very different, and in fact, it seemed like he was taking back his implicit offer of an alternate home. Caitlyn felt her heart sink. Don't you want me here? she thought. A safe clinic in Darktown with you is better than a house in the slums of Lowtown with an uncle whose behavior is toxic. Don't you understand?


Leandra was somewhat surprised, and visibly disheartened, that Anders and Mal had not accompanied them. As the young siblings entered the house, she turned with a glare to her brother Gamlen. He was seated in a chair across from her, and in that moment, Caitlyn noticed the stark difference between the two of them in their physical appearance. Both were grey-haired now, but her uncle had the distinct markings on his face of excessive drinking over many years. Her mother had not lived an easy life either, certainly not the life she had expected to lead as a young girl before she had met the Hawkes' father, but she had followed a relatively healthy lifestyle, and it showed.

I would feel sorry for him except that this is entirely his fault and we have suffered for it too, she thought as she sat down near her mother and glared at her uncle.

He did not want to talk, but he seemed to understand that he'd better. He cleared his throat. "Er," he began, "I... I'm glad you came back."

Caitlyn regarded him coldly, not saying a word.

"I... wanted to say that I'm sorry about last night. I didn't mean what I said."

"Which part?" she said, ice in her words. "The insults to my child? Ordering Anders out of the house for absolutely no valid reason? The insinuation that your behavior is equivalent to mine, the drinking or the other?"

"All of it," he muttered. "Especially the parts about the boy. He's a good lad."

"You never denied that," she retorted. "That was not the substance of your insult."

Gamlen grimaced. "I'm sorry, all right? Your mother talked to me pretty harshly this morning about the sacrifice you and Carver made the past year, and she's got a point. I'll try to do better."

"Hmph." She scowled at him. "You had better. As for Anders... I can't imagine that you would think I would... do anything... with him in this cramped little house with everyone nearby. I know why you said it—you wanted to draw a false equivalency between my relationship with him and your constant hiring of prostitutes in front of everyone else, I suppose because I'm a woman—"

"I said I was sorry," Gamlen snapped, not sounding it. "He can come. He can even spend the night, for all I care. What's one more person to keep warm?"

All three Hawkes glared harshly at him, but it was Caitlyn again who spoke. "I wouldn't dream of making you pay for extra coal or wood in the wintertime for someone else," she barked. "After all, you have much better, more pleasurable ways to spend your coin. With any luck, though, we won't be here come winter. The Deep Roads expedition is coming up. However, Carver and I haven't saved up the necessary buy-in yet, so we can't waste our time here."

Leandra scowled. "If only we could get the will, perhaps we could prove to the Viscount that..." She broke off.

Gamlen glowered. "I've told you, they cut you off. They didn't leave you anything, and what did you expect, running off with a Fereldan apostate? The house is gone. I'm sorry for burning through it, but it's done."

"But the will—"

"If it still exists, it's in the cellar, if you must know. And since slavers own it, that's that."

At that, Carver and Caitlyn shared a private grin which their mother and uncle did not notice. Leandra sighed heavily as her daughter and son rose from their seats once again to head back into the city. There were always vigilante-type crime-fighting jobs to be done, it seemed—which was a harsh indictment of the City Guard, but at least it would fund their treasure hunt.


"Daisy, your face lights up when you see him," Varric remarked as Caitlyn and Carver entered the Hanged Man and approached the table that was currently occupied by the dwarf and Merrill.

Caitlyn glanced askance at Carver. Other than Varric himself, Carver was the only "him" currently in the party. Could Merrill...

Carver glowered, but Caitlyn noticed that he took a seat beside Merrill. "Stop teasing her."

Merrill looked utterly relieved—but Caitlyn did not miss the fact that her brother had stepped to Merrill's defense. Was something going on? Or, perhaps, did the two of them want something to be going on, but did not know how—or have the nerve—to start anything yet? Caitlyn had tried to stay completely out of her younger brother's private life, and Bethany's too while she had lived, but she was relatively sure that Carver had patronized the Blooming Rose, Kirkwall's brothel, at least once. She felt vaguely sad about the fact that he would choose to learn about intimacy that way rather than by having a relationship, but otherwise, she didn't care. Anders had done the same, apparently, and he'd turned out all right. If Carver did, he had the courtesy to be discreet and keep it out of their house—which was much more than she could say for their uncle and his nightly companions.

But that was earlier, during their indenture. If her brother was interested in Merrill, and especially if Merrill returned the interest, that was actually rather shocking to Caitlyn. A mage? A blood mage, at that? Carver had such a problem with magic—or so she had thought. He had been so against doing anything to offend the Templars... but perhaps that was just because he didn't want them to come down on me, she thought in a sudden epiphany. That might have been the reason all the time, even back in Lothering, rather than actual agreement with them, let alone the most extreme ones. It might always have been family feeling.

Caitlyn was also relieved about the possibility of something between Merrill and her brother because that should thoroughly eliminate the possibility of her own nascent feelings for Merrill becoming more than friendship.

"Hawke," Merrill spoke up.

Caitlyn glanced at her with a smile. "You can call me Caitlyn," she said.

"Oh," Merrill said innocently. "I don't know much about human customs. I thought that your given name was only for your family, like your brother. He is the only one who calls you by it. Varric and Fenris call you Hawke."

"I've told them they can call me by my given name too," she said. "They prefer 'Hawke.' I mean... you can say Hawke too, if you really want to, but you don't have to. Anders calls me by my given name," she replied gently.

"Oh, yes, he does," Merrill said. "I'm sorry; I forgot. But he's special too... isn't he?" she said uncertainly, her brows knitting at the last.

Caitlyn sighed. Was he? She certainly wanted him to be... "Yes, Merrill, we... have had something special in the past, and maybe in the future too. But all of you are my friends. I just wanted you to know that you can call me Caitlyn if you want to."

"All right," Merrill said. "I may do that." She gazed at the table for a moment before continuing, changing the subject as she did. "He is in his clinic a lot, helping the refugees. There is suffering in the alienage too... but many of the elves there don't trust magic." She sighed sadly. "It is difficult for me to live there. I don't understand how my people can have lost so much of their lore, their history, that they look upon a mage with fear..."

Caitlyn wondered if this was the right time, but she really didn't think anything good could come of Merrill's consorting with a demon, and she wanted to discourage it to the extent possible. "If they knew what you were doing with your magic, that wouldn't help your case," she said. "I don't think we mages should have to meet an impossible standard, but demons actually are dangerous."

Merrill scowled. "You're like him—and how is his Justice any different?"

Caitlyn had no good answer for that. "Justice is a positive spirit," she said, sounding rote even to herself.

The young elf harrumphed. "What is wrong with pride? Why is it 'negative'? If we had no pride, we would do... well, anything!"

Caitlyn definitely didn't have a good answer for that. "Maybe this particular... spirit... is misnamed," she offered. "Maybe instead of pride, it is actually a spirit of arrogance—which would definitely be a demon."

"Like a demon of vengeance?" Merrill retorted. "I know he is dangerous. I am wary in the Fade. I wonder if Anders is."

Carver snickered at that.

Caitlyn sighed heavily. This conversation was rapidly going south, and she hadn't wanted that to happen. "Anders is well aware of the risks," she finally said. "He has experienced what Justice is capable of when he... they... are angry and feeling dark and vengeful. He is concerned for you, Merrill. That's all it is. We both are."

Varric cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with this entire discussion of demons, spirits, magic, and the Fade, since it was not a place for dwarves. "Right, then," he began to say.

Merrill interrupted him. "Haw—Caitlyn," she corrected herself, though the name felt awkward on her tongue, "I do understand. I know that's why he is so judgmental of this. He is a compassionate person, and he does know a lot of interesting things about magic and the Fade."

In spite of everything, Caitlyn smiled faintly.

"He loves you very much, you know," Merrill continued innocently. "Why are you not with him again?"

Varric was startled. "Uh, Daisy..." he began to say.

"Oh, no," she said at once, her face falling. "I said something foolish again, didn't I?"

"No!" Caitlyn assured her at once. "Not at all! You... pose a good question."

Merrill seemed unconvinced, especially when the conversation subsided awkwardly. Carver, to his credit, tried to lessen Merrill's obvious discomfort by bringing up a discussion of smithing with Dalish ironbark, which Caitlyn rapidly found herself unable to follow. Her mind was focused on Merrill's observation and question, in any case. How could she have noticed, of all people? She doesn't even seem able to find her way around the city. She misses so many things. How could she notice that? Or... is she seeing what she wants to see, based on what she knows of the past and perhaps what Carver has told her?

But if she's right, she asks a good question. Why am I not with him? What am I waiting for? Must I learn if I can actually keep my promise about angry outbursts first? As soon as she thought this, she realized that that was a large part of it. She didn't want to become too emotionally involved again until she was certain that she wouldn't lose it all by her own doing.

That's... incredibly depressing, she realized glumly. I have to sort this out. If I take too long, I might lose him anyway.

The door to the Hanged Man swung open, and Fenris walked in. Merrill and Carver subsided as he approached them, and Varric, mercifully, detected the unhappy mood swing of the woman seated across from him. He spoke up just as the male elf was approaching their table.

"So," Varric said, "what actually brings you here today? Looking for more jobs to do?"

Caitlyn was relieved of the change of subject. "We actually have a task planned for tonight. We are going to clear out a gang of slavers that 'own' my mother's family estate in Hightown, in the hopes that they haven't destroyed my grandfather Amell's will."

"You know," Varric remarked, "I have my own thoughts about family estates, but clearing out a band of slavers... that sounds like fun, at least."

Fenris sat down at the table. He glowered at the mention of slavers, but he seemed interested as well, if for vicarious revenge on his former master.

"What about Blondie?" Varric asked.

Caitlyn shook her head; she had already decided about that. "I've let Mal stay with Anders today," she said, "and I don't think Anders should be involved in this. If..." She struggled with the words, but it was possible, and it was best to speak of it. "If something happened to Carver and me, Mal would at least still have his father."

"Well, that's grim," Varric replied.

"But possible," Fenris said darkly. "I... do not get along with Anders... but Hawke is right about this. The child should not be in danger of losing his entire family save his grandmother. Not for something like this." His lips pursed in contempt; apparently Mal's great-uncle did not warrant mentioning. Caitlyn was mildly amused by that. At least all my companions agree about Gamlen!

At this, loud sounds came from elsewhere in the pub. Caitlyn and her companions whirled around, only to see a gang threatening a scantily dressed woman—but before any of them could rush to the woman's defense, it became perfectly obvious that she was more than capable of defending herself. She drew a brutally sharp blade from her back and proceeded, to the astonishment of everyone at the Hawkes' table, to make short work of her tormentors.

With a salacious grin on her face, she sheathed her blade and turned around, clearly aware that she had had a gawking audience. Her honey-colored eyes seemed to fix upon Fenris most of all, but she took in everyone at the table as she sauntered over.

"Greetings," she said in a sultry voice. Caitlyn tried not to stare at her muscular tan-skinned body, but she was wearing very little clothing and no pants, from the looks of it. "I'm Isabela—previously Captain Isabela, but, sadly, without a ship, that title rings a little hollow." She eyed them all a bit more, her gaze settling upon Caitlyn. "You shouldn't stare, honey."

Caitlyn was completely taken aback. "I'm not staring!" she protested. Maker, she was glad Anders wasn't here right now. She honestly was not interested in this woman, but he was so inclined toward jealousy lately, he would not have needed to hear Isabela's charge.

Isabela grinned. "You're lucky you're staring at me. Others would take it as rather more than 'approval,' dear. You're nothing but tits and ass to the men in this place, and they won't hesitate to grab at both."

Caitlyn glowered back at the other woman. "I am a Fereldan native, with a small child, and I lived in Kirkwall for a year before my son's father—whom I believed dead—turned up again. You can only imagine what these swine thought of me because of that. I'm very well aware of what some of these 'men' are like to certain women." She took a hard pull from her flagon, which she set down firmly on the tabletop. "The first and only batch to try it didn't live to tell the tale."

"It's true," Carver grunted in defense of his sister.

Isabela's eyebrows flew up high. "I do like a woman who can take care of herself," she remarked. She pulled up a chair at their table, sat down, and leaned forward on the table conspiratorially. "Well. Perhaps you are just what I'm looking for to solve a little problem I have."

Caitlyn rolled her eyes. "Maker, can't anyone fix their own lives around here?" she muttered. She had business—family business—in Hightown tonight that was going to be risky enough.

"You haven't heard me out. There's excitement to be had—or coin."

That might change things, Caitlyn thought. If the slavers had destroyed the Amell family will, or if it did indeed show that the estate had been left to Uncle Gamlen, then she and Carver would definitely need the coin to get into the Deep Roads expedition—and they were still fifteen gold short. "All right—what kind of 'help' are we talking about?"

"Someone from my past has been pestering me. I've arranged for a duel, but I don't trust him to play fair. I need someone to watch my back."

"That's it?"

Isabela nodded. "No more, no less. His name is Hayder, and we worked together in Antiva. He's been asking about me all over town, and I thought I'd get it over with and meet him face-to-face. We've arranged to meet in Hightown."

"And you want me to be your second?"

The captain nodded again. "That's it, sweetie."

"I think I can manage that," Caitlyn said, considering. "My brother and I, and Varric and Fenris here"—she nodded to the dwarf and elf—have business in Hightown tonight anyway." She gazed at Isabela with a menacing smile. "There had better be coin."


After a very exciting night, Carver and Caitlyn emerged from the Amell cellar into the tunnel of Darktown feeling both deflated and hopeful—and very much in need of healing. Merrill had gone back to the alienage after meeting them at the Hanged Man and had not participated in the duel or the raid, and Fenris had returned to his former master's mansion, not wanting to have anything to do with Anders even as a Healer, but the others were approaching the clinic.

"It's fortunate that Anders' clinic is right here, so close to the basement entrance," Caitlyn remarked. "It's like it was meant to be." She smiled in spite of her wounds. If they did get the family manor back, Anders could live with them and go to work in his clinic very easily—and safely.

The first fight had been with Isabela's contact and his gang, a brutal fight that had occurred after a chase that led all over Hightown—and, to Fenris's dismay, had involved the man Hayder's confession that a "shipment" Isabela had abandoned had been, in fact, a shipment of captives who had thought they were merely escaping the Blight but were to be sold into slavery. Fenris had fought harder than usual when he learned this detail, and he seemed to respect Isabela very much for refusing to be a part of a slaving operation once she learned about it.

My own uncle sold us as indentured servants, Caitlyn thought bitterly, but it seems that we were lucky. How many Fereldans bought passage thinking that they would be safe from darkspawn, but had actually signed up with Tevinter slave ships? And those who do live free mostly live in Darktown. We're lucky to live in Lowtown with very reasonable hopes of Hightown soon. We're incredibly lucky.

After that, everyone's blood had been hot, and they had been more than ready to take on the gang of slavers, including a slaver blood mage, who had occupied the Amell family estate. Caitlyn had even persuaded Isabela to join them, favor-for-favor, and for some reason the pirate woman had done so. They had taken care of the gang, and Fenris seemed to be a bit more tolerant of Caitlyn's magic once he saw it used directly against a slaver mage. For one thing, the others in the group, none of whom had magic, were struggling against the mage, whereas she could meet him as an equal—and whether Fenris was ready to admit that openly or not, he seemed to realize it. She was pleased about that. Showing the elf, and others who thought like him, that magic was not inherently evil or corrupting, but was instead good or bad depending on what a mage used it for, was one of her goals.

They had made some coin from their adventures, both from looting Isabela's enemies and from the stash that the slavers had kept in the Amell house—but the real coup de grace, to use the Orlesian phrase, was the Amell will.

The house was never Uncle Gamlen's. Grandfather Amell forgave Mother and left it to her after all, Caitlyn thought. We may not have to go to the Deep Roads to recover it at all, if she can successfully petition the Viscount to restore her property.

Her temporary optimism was checked by the consideration that the wait time for an audience with Viscount Dumar was long and growing longer by the day, and that was for the nobles and genteel folk of Hightown, let alone anyone else. But it was something. If nothing else, it's a piece of paper I can shove down the throat of a sodden arsehole the next time he lies to us about being the heir or comes home drunk or brings in a strange woman.

She was at Anders' door, and it was quite late, so she made sure to knock gently in case Mal was asleep—as he ought to be. He opened it, and in the next moment, he gaped in shock and disapproval of their appearance.

"What in the Maker's name have you been doing?" he exclaimed, ushering the entire party into his clinic. "This is blood!"

"It's not all mine," Caitlyn offered as he began to clean and heal her. She and Isabela had taken the worst beating, since Carver wore armor and Varric was naturally tougher as a dwarf.

He tutted and shook his head. "You shouldn't have to go through this to earn coin for the 'privilege' of going into the bloody Deep Roads. Caitlyn," he said, his tone suddenly very serious, "you don't have to do this. You have another home. I said that this morning and I meant it. You and Mal could live here, with me. It's not much, and your uncle's house is nicer, but... it's an option."

Her heart soared suddenly. She had almost forgotten about her uncertainty regarding their parting conversation that morning. However—

"It's a long story, but most of these wounds, I got from killing the Tevinter slavers who were occupying my mother's family home," she said, "and Carver and I learned after clearing them out that it was never my uncle's at all."

Anders stopped cleaning her arm and stared at her. "You mean..."

"My grandfather Amell left it to my mother after all," she said bitterly. "My uncle squatted on it for years and blew through the coin, gambling, drinking, and whoring—and it wasn't even his!"

Anders shook his head in silent disgust.

"And I do appreciate your offer," she said sincerely, "and... we'll see... I may have to take you up on it if Uncle Gamlen reacts badly to our discovery that he is a liar."

"And a thief," Carver muttered.

"But," she continued, "we still need to get the house back. Carver probably doesn't want to live here, nor does my mother. And it should be ours. In fact... there is an entrance to the cellar of it practically right above our heads."

"I certainly don't want to live here," Carver said under his breath, but everyone present heard.

Anders ignored that, focusing instead on what she had said. "Really? A shortcut? That's... convenient..." He cast a blue healing spell at her, then heaved his breath. "There. Good as new." He gazed tenderly at her, and suddenly, it was all that she could do not to take his face in her hands and kiss him in front of everyone. His breath hitched in his chest, and her heart soared again. Was he about to actually do it? The others were here, but she found that she didn't care. She moved slightly closer—

Isabela had been uncharacteristically silent throughout the entire conversation, but at the most inopportune time possible, she burst out at last. "I know you!" she exclaimed to Anders.

His focus was lost as he shifted his gaze to her. His brow furrowed in thought.

Isabela licked her lips in an unmistakably salacious way. "You're the Fereldan Grey Warden that Lady Cousland sent here. Poor dear... never had a chance of involving my Zevran, since she only likes women, but she, Leliana, and I could've had such a good time—"

"What?" Caitlyn burst out, utterly shocked at what the pirate was implying. She had made peace with Leliana's committed relationship with Elissa Cousland a year ago, but what Isabela was hinting at was very different—though it sounded as if it had only been a proposition on Isabela's part. Varric also looked very surprised—and very interested. Caitlyn wondered for a moment if he would take down this bit of spicy gossip for a future story.

Isabela chuckled. "Unfortunately, nothing happened in that department," she said. "Not for my lack of trying, mind." She eyed Anders as if he were a piece of meat. "This hot mage is a different matter, though."

Anders suddenly looked horrified for Caitlyn's sake, as recognition dawned on him. Varric whistled and began to back away slowly. Carver was frozen in place.

"The Pearl. Denerim," Isabela said, staring at him in an unmistakably hungry way. "9:26, right? I think 9:26. I was there again the year of the Blight, when I met our sexy Hero, but I don't think it was that recent." She licked her lips again. "You're the runaway mage who could do that electricity thing, right?"

Anders was struck dumb. He glanced sideways at Caitlyn, swallowing hard, hoping to the Maker and all the good spirits that she wouldn't set loose a firestorm and burn the clinic down around their ears. Carver, who had finally figured the situation out, did not seem quite so confident. He began to step backwards out of the clinic, followed by Varric.

"What are you saying?" Caitlyn finally got out, her voice shaky. She remembered "the electricity thing." He had not done it every time they had made love, but she had always enjoyed it when he had. To think of him doing it for anyone else—

"9:26," he burst out, eyes wide, pleading silently to her. "Please, Caitlyn. She said 9:26. We met in Wintermarch 9:27."

Isabela glanced from Anders to Caitlyn. "Ohhh," she said. "I see." She nodded knowingly at Caitlyn. "He's your child's father."

He said he had only fooled around with other Circle mages—though who knows what he and Karl got up to—though I suppose I don't have a right to complain about that, no matter what it was—and that he had only actually slept with prostitutes in the Pearl... except for one person. Her? How could it be? What are the odds? How in the Maker's name is this possible? she thought in misery.

"You weren't listening?" she burst out in fury at the pirate. "What do you think it meant when he said I could live here with my child?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't actually paying attention," Isabela said, winking pointedly. "You have to understand, right? Don't worry, sweetcakes—I'm not trying to steal him. I don't much like being tied down at all. And I'm always happy to share, if you like."

To Caitlyn's infinite relief, it was Anders who replied. "No," he said firmly, placing a hand around her waist. "We don't 'share.'"

Isabela shrugged, visibly disappointed, but only mildly so. "A pity, but not everyone can do it, of course. I don't want to break up couples. I do have some ethics." She extended her wounded arm to Anders. "Now... Healer... if you will?" she said, in a determined attempt at professionalism.

Anders sucked in his breath and began to tend to Isabela's wounds. Caitlyn could hardly stand to look, even though she knew this was unfair—Isabela did have a bad gash, and it was only right for a Healer to treat it.

I knew I wasn't his first, she tried to tell herself. It didn't bother me at the time, either. He met her before he met me—so it wasn't cheating. If he ever actually cheated on me, then I cheated on him too. Karl and Leliana are wholly separate issues from this. What he had with her was one night, according to his own words—and what she implies too. It meant nothing. There is no threat here.

It didn't bother me four years ago, she thought. It truly didn't. I told him something about being glad that he didn't have a meaningful relationship as a runaway apostate, since he avoided them for fear of breaking someone's heart. It seemed to me to be another sign of his compassionate, honest nature. I meant what I said. It didn't bother me then. Why does it bother me now?

She knew the answer as soon as she had the thought. Because I haven't had to interact regularly with any other partner of his, she thought. Karl died, and his other partners—full partners—were Denerim prostitutes, apparently, except for her. It's different to have to consider actually interacting with somebody who... She swallowed bile. Who knows him as intimately as I do.

No one does, though, she told herself to attempt to calm her stormy emotions. Nobody else has been intimate with him as much as I have. She wondered, for a brief moment, just how long Anders and Karl had been together before the Circle authorities sent Karl to Kirkwall, and then adjusted her thoughts. Isabela sure as the Void hasn't. She had one night. I had four months of being lovers with him. I bore his child. He was going to propose marriage to me if the Templars hadn't caught him... and maybe... But no matter what comes of that, I am the one he loves. He told me that he still does, that he always did.

"Caitlyn?" Anders asked, breaking her out of her own thoughts. She blinked and gazed around the clinic. Her brother and Varric were standing in the threshold of the door as if they thought they might need to make a quick exit. She realized in a flash why they apparently thought that, and it shamed her—did they really think she had no more control over her emotions than that? Her gaze shifted to Isabela, who was standing aside and, to her credit, looking somewhat sheepish.

"I... need to go home," she said. "Mal... he's asleep?"

Anders nodded, looking extremely pained. "I put him in my bed. Come." He took her hand, rubbing circles on her palm soothingly, as he escorted her into the nook where he slept. He pulled back the cladding and let them inside, where—sure enough—the small child dozed in his father's bed.

He gazed at her desperately. "Caitlyn," he said, "please—you must have remembered—"

"Yes, I did," she said crisply, stroking Mal's soft feathery strawberry blond hair. She gazed at Anders. "I knew at the time, and that genuinely did not matter to me, any more than it mattered to you that you were my first... but it's different to have to see somebody regularly." Maybe especially someone as salacious and blatantly sexual as she is, Caitlyn thought. How can I compete with that? She says she won't interfere with couples, but what if we don't actually become a couple again quickly enough? What if she sees an opening and takes it—and he decides that he would rather have someone who clearly, without a doubt, wants him, than someone who might lash out and throw a fireball at him in a fit of pique—someone he had to insist make a promise not to say cruel things to him?

He looked miserable and reached for her arms. "It meant nothing," he said in a voice barely above a whisper, far too low for Isabela to overhear outside this little room. "And I've grown since then. I want more." His gaze hardened. "I'll make sure she takes no for an answer if it comes up again. I won't tolerate her making you feel so unhappy."

"Don't be ugly to her," Caitlyn urged him. She didn't want Anders to be vicious to Isabela. As he had pointed out in the main room of the clinic, his... encounter... with her had happened before he even met Caitlyn, and both of them had apparently been completely honest with each other about what it was. He was being honest with Caitlyn herself, now, too. She didn't want him to punish Isabela for something that, at the time, had been done in good faith. She didn't want him to allow Isabela's advances, either, even if he never responded to them, but she knew she would derive no pleasure from seeing him be hateful to Isabela. She just wanted him to express his preference by shutting Isabela down and favoring her. She thought with pain of the aborted kiss this very evening.

"I won't," he assured her, "but I won't let her say these things if they hurt you."

"I just hate the thought of her knowing about something that we did together," she said in a heated whisper. "Something that I thought was just for me."

He gazed hard at her, desire suddenly blaring from his eyes. The room, already quite small, suddenly seemed even smaller and stuffier to Caitlyn. "Then I'll have to think of something new," he hissed. "Something that nobody else knows about." For a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of bluish-white behind his eyes, but Justice retreated as quickly as he had appeared. The spirit was there just long enough to make Caitlyn's heart race in a strange kind of desire that she did not understand, but equally did not question.

She sucked in her breath hard through her nostrils as he stared at her as intensely as he ever had. In the next fraction of a second, he had—mercifully—closed the distance between them.

His hands gripped her waist tightly, and then suddenly, warmth—warmth, pressure, and intense tactile sensations as Anders pressed against her down to the hips. Caitlyn gasped for a moment, but in the very next, he had sealed her lips with his own. One of his hands stroked up her back rapidly, settling on the back of her neck, his fingers finding their way into her vermilion hair.

He was devouring her, punctuating the near-sucking motion with gentle nips on her lips and tongue. "Only you," he murmured, briefly breaking the kiss.

She finally regained control of her body and responded at last to his motions by gripping fistfuls of his blond hair and tugging. He let out a growl at that, pushing her against the wall roughly as he intensified his kiss and nipped her lower lip hard enough to sting.

She gasped as they finally broke apart. Her lips seemed to be swollen, but as she licked them, she tasted no blood. His eyes gleamed at the act, but he did not react again except to breathe heavily. "Are you sure you don't want to spend the night?" he said, smirking.

A hard thrum of desire rocked her at his words—but she somehow managed to keep her head. "I do want to—but I need to tell Mother what we learned."

"Let your brother do it."

She was actually tempted, but she restrained herself. "Maker knows what he'll say to Mother about me if I don't go," she said. "I should be there for this. It's important." She glanced at their sleeping child, then back at him. "You can come too if you want."

He considered for a moment before nodding. "All right. We'll all go together."

She laughed happily. "As we should."

He leaned forward again, briefly touching her lips with his own. She thought, wildly, about the fact that this was exactly how their first and second kisses had been, years ago—an aggressive, rough, very unchaste first one, followed by a sweet, innocent second one. The fact that this had not changed—that he still kissed this way—made her heart soar.

She lifted up Mal from the bed, waking him, but he closed his eyes and settled down again in his mother's arms. As the three of them stepped out of the tiny little room, she found that she hardly noticed the others, even Isabela.

He wants me, she thought joyfully. He still really does want me! It's going to happen! And—Maker!—I actually kept my promise. This was another moment of jealousy, but I kept my temper and wasn't cruel or unfair to him. She was delighted at this realization; it gave her hope that she really could keep her word.

He placed his hand possessively around her waist as they passed the others, a pointed gesture directed at Isabela, who merely smiled tolerantly.

The group dispersed once they reached the surface, with Varric and Isabela heading toward the Hanged Man while the others headed for the residential area of Lowtown where Gamlen lived. Carver stepped ahead to give them privacy, which Caitlyn rather appreciated, and which surprised her. Perhaps he really did respect their relationship.

Anders took advantage immediately. "This is going to sound absurd, but a small part of me has been... afraid this would all disappear," he said quietly, shivering. "Every time you leave, every time you step outside the door of the clinic, or any building I am in, I don't want to let you go. That same part of me is terrified I'll never see you again." His gaze was intense, desperate, needy.

She glanced at him. "I've... had a similar thing happen, watching you walk out a door without me." Because it did happen once before, she thought, and my mind cannot let go of that. I wonder if we ever truly will let go of this fear, this trauma. She could not embrace him with Mal in her arms, but she hoped he understood that she wanted to.

"You're in more danger now," he said, his voice still quiet. "I am a Grey Warden. They aren't allowed to interfere with me. You're an apostate, in the most apostate-unfriendly city in Thedas except Tantervale."

She gazed into his eyes. "I give you permission to do whatever you must if I'm threatened."

He nodded. "I will. I won't let them hurt us again."

"We'll fix it," she said. "We'll make it right for others of our kind."

He nodded again. "Someday." Impulsively, he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. "Now, let's show that will to your mother."


Notes: Polyamorous Hawke (or kinky Hawke who's into threesomes) is something of a trope, but this one is clearly too prone to jealousy and possessiveness. I'm also writing romanced Anders along those lines, though not as aggro about it. I think the dialogue you get from him if you're with him and flirt with certain other people can support this. Of course, that does not mean that they couldn't be into other kinks! Hawke just hasn't had the chance to explore that in much depth yet; it's been limited to mutual magic play and very mild dom talk. There very well could be more once they have some real privacy. There is a certain dialogue in the dungeon of Duke Prosper's chateau that IMO is canon that they're into some kinky stuff.