"I like the Chantry."

Beau was still getting used to Varric saying odd things at random times, it was just one of his quirks. Given her habit of spouting off whatever popped in her head, good or ill, she shouldn't have ever been surprised but… she was. "Not me, it reminds me of a grandmother's house."

"A grandmother who happens to be married to the Maker?"

"Oddly enough, yes," Beau still didn't feel right about leaving Bethany home and knew it wasn't because she overly missed her sister but because it felt odd not having Bethie there to watch her back. She had been tempted to bring Loghain but at the same time the last thing she needed was her hyperactive Mabari running rampant throughout the Chantry. But then again…. Considering what they were about to do, maybe it wouldn't have made much of a difference.

Falling into silence, Isabeau and Varric walked up the stairs to the Chantry, Varric only breaking the quiet to murmur a caution that even the doorsteps to the Maker's house were not safe from the thieves that plagued Hightown. She was very glad for her daggers, having been uncertain about bringing them. That had been a moment of wishful thinking before reality smacked her upside the head with a 'don't be daft'. Going to the market in Lowtown during the day was hardly safe, why would Hightown at night be any better?

She spotted the Grey Warden, Anders, leaning against a pillar, almost out of sight and had the feeling that he had seen them first and it was the only reason he was allowing them to see him at all. Trying not to look guilty, she approached him, stepping into the shadows.

"I wasn't sure you were coming," he said by way of greeting. "You left earlier looking a bit ill."

"I said I was."

"Ill huh?" Varric prompted, glancing up at her with a crooked smirk and a knowing gleam in his eyes. "Birthing not to your tastes, Hawke?"

"Give it a rest or I'll kick you down the stairs."

He mimed sealing his lips though the amusement never left his face.

"Like I said, I said I was," she gave her attention back to Anders.

He glanced at the Chantry doors. "I saw Karl go inside not too long ago, he was alone. No templars so far." He then looked at her. "Are you ready?"

Beau stared down at Varric for a long moment who nodded before finally nodding herself. "Yes," she licked her dry lips, sincerely this wasn't going to come back bite her, or more importantly Bethany, in the backside down the road. She had that horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach, she wasn't sure if it was nerves from what they about to do or something else. "Let's do this fast." Hesitantly, she pushed open the doors and held them open while her companions slipped inside. After a quick look around just to be safe, she followed.

"I'll do the talking, you two just watch for templars," Anders said in hushed whispers, his head twisting so fast on his neck that Beau was expecting it to pop off.

She had been in the Chantry several times with her mother and she would openly admit to everyone but her mother that she was not very comfortable inside here. She did not like the giant statue of Andraste, it creeped her out instead of inspiring reverence or awe. The sisters were also fairly odd. Some of them were nice and sweet whereas others seemed to suffer from dementia, and others were self-righteous and condescending. Then there was the heavy scent of incense that was almost overpowering and it made her want to close her eyes and grab forty winks. Her lids felt heavy now as it was and a glance at Anders told her if she fell asleep now, he'd probably set her on fire or something.

Up a short flight of stairs, then a turn, and there was Karl. Or at least, she was assuming this was Karl. His back was to them, and he was staring into a dying fire but she recognized his robes as those issued by the Circle. She and Varric came to a halt when Anders gestured them too, Varric frowning up at her. She nodded her agreement to his silent words, there was something wrong here. She had to learn to listen to that feeling in her gut, really she did.

"Anders, I know you too well." Karl said without turning around.

That feeling intensified before resignment swept through her. It registered that Karl sounded off, he sounded mechanical. Beau was already unsheathing her daggers, catching Varric preparing Bianca from the corner of her eye.

"I knew you would never give up."

Ander's posture was both tense and nervous as he shifted from one foot to the other. "Karl, what's wrong? Why are you talking…" the words died on his tongue when his friend turned around, brown eyes automatically narrowing in on the brand that stood out lividly on Karl's forehead. "Oh no."

"I was too rebellious. Like you, Anders." Karl continued in his monotone, staring at Anders emotionlessly. "The templars knew I had to be made an example of."

"No! Karl…"

"How else will mages ever master themselves? You'll understand, Anders."

"Uh, Anders?" Beau called over her shoulder, now standing with her back to the two mages, watching as templars approached. This had all been a giant trap and somewhere in her mind, it registered that Karl must have done something pretty bad to be made tranquil. They just didn't pass that condemnation for an attempted running away, right?

"Blondie, we have a slight templar problem."

Slowly, Anders turned, his shoulders slumped in defeat and sorrow.

"This is the apostate." Karl said, needlessly gesturing at Anders.

Isabeau and Varric both almost stepped right back into the templars when Anders suddenly went from sad and almost resigned to raging and scary. His brown eyes filmed over completely with a crackling blue that reminded Beau of lightning and then he dropped to his knees, face in his hands. Nobody moved, all eyes focused on him.

"What the bloody hell is he doing?" Beau demanded when the blue light that had obscured Ander's eyes literally began seeping from his body, crackling and flame-like. Her first thought was that he had been possessed and she was ready to let the templars have him.

"Good question, Hawke. Why don't you go ask him?" Varric was busy putting space between him, the templars, and the mages. He could fight in close quarters but he was better from a distance. Bianca was equipped with a bayonet but he preferred to not risk damaging her, or himself, he had a pretty face.

Anders pushed himself to his feet quickly, looking around at the assembled templars. When he spoke, it wasn't in his normal voice but a deeper, darker one that had an edge to it Beau could not place. "You will never take another mage as you took him!"

And the fight was on.

"You alive, Hawke?"

"Maker yes… and I don't like it." She groaned from her place on the floor, staring up at the Chantry ceiling. Templars were much harder to put down than she had thought, and she hadn't walked away unscathed. The templars hadn't walked away at all and Beau idly wondered if the Maker was going to count this against her. One hand moved to clutch her throbbing side, wondering what it was with people and getting her there, it was the same spot she had been hit before. Slowly, she sat up and looked around, appraising the damage, the bodies and the blood. "We just killed a bunch of templars, Varric."

"I know," he nodded, not seeming as bothered about it as she was. "And in the Chantry too."

She suspected he added that just to make her stomach flip flop even harder. Scowling, Beau pushed herself to her feet before stooping back over to retrieve her daggers, ignoring the blood on the blades as she sheathed them. There was the pressing matter of the gash on her side and Maker did it hurt. There was also the whole Anders going blue and crazy thing to wonder about as well, and that actually seemed more important than her bleeding out problem. Frowning, she turned to face him.

The last of the odd blue was fading from Ander's eyes and behind him, Karl was looking confused, which from her understanding was not something a tranquil was supposed to feel, let alone look. "I-" he began slowly, frowning. "Anders, what did you do?"

"Yeah Blondie," Varric drawled, Bianca safely on his back once more. "What did you do?"

Anders briefly met Isabeau's questioning gaze before turning to Karl.

"It's like… you brought a piece of the Fade into this world, I had forgotten what that feels like."

"But you're tranquil." Beau blurted out, pretty sure blurting wasn't the only thing coming out.

"Way to go on the subtlety, Hawke."

Scowling down at Varric, she rolled her eyes. "What I mean is that the tranquil are supposed to be cut off from the Fade, right? Like, forever?"

Karl nodded at her. "You forget your old life when you're tranquil. Things do not seem very important…. But… it's like the Fade itself is inside Anders." His tone went from awed to pleasing. "Please, kill me."

"Wha- what?"

Anders closed his eyes.

"Kill me before I forget again, Anders," Karl pleaded, reaching out desperately for his friend. "I don't know how you brought it back but it's fading already."

"Karl, no…" Anders shook his head, his voice breaking.

Tentatively, Beau placed a hand on his shoulder, hoping he didn't blow her up or something for the gesture. She wasn't biased against mages, she understood their plight, but at the same time when a man began seeping a crackling blue light from his very pores, caution was a must. "My sister says being tranquil is a fate far worse than death." she said quietly.

"It is," he whispered, finally meeting Karl's stare.

"I would rather die a free mage than a templar puppet." Karl said determinedly, though a hint of the monotone was creeping into his voice, even as he struggled against it.

Varric tugged Beau back as Anders procured a dagger of his own from his robes, shaking his head when she glanced down at him. This was something they were trespassing on, something they probably shouldn't be witnessing.

"Karl, I'm sorry."

They both closed their eyes.

"Hold still, Beau."

It was a mark of how potentially serious Varric was when he used her preferred nickname instead of her surname or much hated full name. Varric had made it quite clear that he did not like Beau, so the fact that he was using it caused her to stop thrashing and instead settle for biting down on her lower lip to keep from screaming. It did not, however, keep her from whimpering.

Anders had walked out of the Chantry without looking back, leaving Beau and Varric to stare at each other, wondering what had just happened. When they had gotten outside, he had been waiting and mumbled something about returning to his clinic before hurrying down the stairs and disappearing into the night. As tempting as following him and demanding some answers had been, Beau hadn't been able to take more than a few steps forward before clutching her side and toppling. If not for Varric, she probably would have gone flying down the Chantry steps and broken her neck. While her armor had done a fairly good job of protecting her, the blade had still cut through. It wasn't as bad as it could have been but considering it was very near, if not directly on, the spot she had been sliced not too long ago. More to the point, it was painful and Beau wasn't a big fan of pain.

This was odd given her previous occupation was basically signing up for pain. She had been at Ostagar, along with Carver when king Cailan and his army fell, they had both been soldiers. She had taken an arrow directly to her retreating arse and still bore the scar from that delightful night. Working for Meeran had gotten her several lovely new scars and one nasty bout of the flu. The point was: she wasn't an idiot with her daggers, and she had battle scars, but the pain factor… and the near death factor, could never forget that, or enjoy it, not for her.

With Varric's aid, she had made it to the Hanged Man and was now sprawled out on his table, grateful he had these private rooms because being in this ungainly position in front of the patrons would have killed what remained of her wounded pride. Not to mention, if she had tried creeping home in this state, there would be some serious explaining to do and she wasn't in the mood to deal with her mother's scolding.

She forced herself to hold still, knowing she couldn't return home until this problem had been dealt with. Leandra was under the impression she had spent her night drinking and playing cards, not getting into fights with the local templars and it was going to stay that way.

"Damn mage could have stuck around a bit longer; he is a healer," Varric muttered, his eyes squinted as he focused on the job at hand. "This is a lot harder than you'd think it would be… skin slips all over the place and it-"

"Varric, do you mind?"

"Have another drink, Hawke."

So, they were back to Hawke. Crisis averted.

After taking several days to recover and listen to mother's repeated lectures on the dangers of indulging too much and too often, Beau was ready to get back into the swing of things and quite frankly, out of the damn house. She had confided to Bethany about what had happened, knowing her sister wouldn't say a word. Bethany was much closer to Leandra than Beau was but she also understood the necessity of not informing their mother of all their comings and goings. If only to keep Mother's peace of mind -such as it was- intact.

That and it made Beau's life a little easier, Mother not knowing what she was getting involved in.

Anders had spent his days tending to patients, working long hours to force aside the thoughts of the incident. When he finally did succumb to sleep, Karl's face haunted his dreams. Tranquil, pleading for death and then receiving that death. Anders hoped that if the fate of being made tranquil was ever forced on him someone would be compassionate enough to end his life, just as he had done for his friend. It would be a mercy killing and he knew Karl had viewed it as such. But for the life of him, he could not stop himself from feeling guilty over the deed.

For him, it was an abnormally slow day, which did not bode well for his peace of mind. Anders had inventoried his supplies several times, tidied up, and gone for three walks about Lowtown. He was not doing a great job of keeping himself busy or occupying his mind.

"Anders?"

Distraction came in the form of the woman, Hawke, he believed her dwarf companion had called her. He knew what was coming, she was going to call him out on being some sort of abomination, and he reluctantly turned to face her. It was no surprise that she was regarding him with suspicion, not that he faulted her for it, not after what she had seen. He felt compelled to explain himself. "What you saw… at the Chantry, with me…"

"What kind of magic was that?"

"It wasn't… magic. Not of the normal variety at any rate." It was either a small mercy that she was assuming magic over abomination, or she was the Maker's own fool.

"I gathered that," she was looking around the empty clinic, realizing he wasn't knee-deep in patients. "Slow day?"

"Very slow, Hawke, was it? That's your name?"

"My surname," she was now walking around the room, not looking either disgusted or impressed with the shabby surroundings. Though why she would be one or the other he had no idea. From his understanding, she lived somewhere in Lowtown, which was maybe one step up from his situation. "Isabeau Hawke. Isabeau to my mother, Beau to my friends, and Hawke to everyone else."

"Hawke," he gathered he was in the 'everyone else' category and perched himself on the edge of a table that served both as his dining space and a surgery table. He didn't bother with asking how she knew his name; she had probably picked it up from someone with a loudmouth. He could recall her using it when they had delivered that baby. "I can explain that night and what you saw."

"Could you? Because that would be really, really great. After Varric stitched up my side that was pretty much all I could think of. Not 'oh damn, that templar got me good' but 'what in the name of Andraste did Anders do'?"

As someone who frequently employed sarcasm as a weapon and a defense mechanism, along with being a source of self-amusement, he wasn't overly offended. If anything, Anders was more surprised by the templar part. "A templar… got you?" He echoed in confusion though it cleared up when she gestured to her side and it sank in. "Oh Maker, Hawke… I'm sorry, I-"

She held up a hand and he abruptly ceased his apology. "You had your mind elsewhere, Anders, it is understandable and I was just heckling, mostly. You said you had an explanation?"

"It is… hard to explain." He was trying to keep up with her. she had seemed agitated over the templar thing but now it was as if she had moved right on past it. He watched as she eased herself onto a small stool, looking more hunched than comfortable, at least until she leaned back against the dirty wall. That tempted him to beg her to sit up straight, to not let the dirt, grime and whatever else was there touch her. She didn't look too bothered by it though, stretching her long legs out in front of herself, her eyes never leaving him. Knowing Hawke was waiting on him, he took his position back at the table, slouching a bit himself. "In Amaranthine, I met a spirit of Justice who was trapped outside the Fade."

"Was this when you were an active Grey Warden?"

He nodded. "Yes, we became friends, Justice and me. He recognized the injustice that mages in Thedas face every day." That she could obviously sympathize with and he could see it in the way her gaze turned thoughtful, encouraged by her nod of understanding.

"This spirit, Justice, is that different from a demon then?"

"Just as there are demons who prey on the deadly sins of mankind: greed, sloth, lust, rage, and so on, there are also the good spirits who embody our virtues. Spirits of compassion, fortitude and-"

"Justice?"

"Justice." A wan smile spread across his face as he waited for her to realize just where this conversation was heading and for it to crash down on her. if not now, if she couldn't see the path before them, then surely once he had told her she would call him an abomination and attempt striking him down. "They are the Maker's first children, and they have all but given up on us."

"And this ties in with your glowing eyes and that light coming from you….?"

It was coming, he could see her piecing the puzzle together, slowly. "To live outside the Fade, he needed a host."

And suddenly she knew, her entire body going tense.

"So, I offered to help him. Together we were going to work to bring justice to every child who was ever ripped away from his mother to be sent to the Circle, to bring justice to mages who are persecuted simply for being what they are." He paused, allowing her to digest all that.

It took several long moments before she swallowed, sitting up a bit straighter, more alert. There was no hostility in Hawke's posture, she was just… more alert. "I'm guessing there's a 'but' in there somewhere." She finally offered weakly.

His answer was a dry smile. "I guess I had too much anger in me because once he -Justice- was inside, he… changed. We changed."

Another period of silence followed that, both of them just staring at the other. Hawke waiting for the rest of the story whereas Anders was waiting for her to snap out of this acceptance and begin with the condemnation.

"So, you have a spirit of Justice living inside of you? In your head? Is that what you're saying?"

"No, that's not what I am saying, it's not like that." Anders wasn't sure how to explain what had happened to him and Justice. "He's gone now, he's simply a part of me. We've… merged together."

She cocked an eyebrow.

"We can't have a conversation together because we're no longer separate entities. His thoughts… are my thoughts."

"So, you're Justice and Justice… is you?"

"Not even the greatest scholar could tell you where I begin and he ends."