11: Only When I Breathe

Why did she always have to land on her back? Beau silently asked the Maker this, wondering if this was his way of punishing her for a prank she had played on a Revered Mother as a child. She could sort of hear the others scuffling about through the pounding of her blood and heart in her ears, not bothering to move, not yet. She was certain that once she gave a ginger wiggle, the pain was going to intensify.

"Anything broken?"

Groaning, she looked up, meeting Anders stare and noted that he was in what she liked to call 'healer mode'. "Give me a moment and I'll tell you."

Frowning, he crouched down beside her, reaching out to run his hands along her limbs, checking for breaks. When he found none, he slipped an arm beneath her back, slowly helping her to sit. "Does this hurt?"

"Only when I breathe."

"I'm being serious, Hawke."

She really disliked this new formality that had sprung up between them. It seemed like ages ago since that day in his clinic and nothing had been right since. Her feelings must have been showing in her gaze because when she realized he was looking directly into her face, she saw a faint sadness lurking just behind the calm mask he wore. "Anders…" she whispered, raising her hand slowly, trying to decipher the flicker of emotions that flashed through his eyes.

He let go of her, steadying her with his palm against the middle of her back before standing up, sucking in a deep breath between his teeth. "You're fine. You'll be… fine."

"Varric, if you ever offer me another business proposition, I will cut your throat with a song in my heart." Beau muttered tiredly as they tread the underground highways that once connected the dwarven kingdoms.

They were all exhausted, filthy, and covered in dust and blood. Fenris' white hair was gray and red, matted in places and what wasn't mattered fell limply in his face. He made no effort to brush it aside, just plowed on as stoically as ever. Varric was walking rather oddly, having gone flying head over heels and landing in a most awkward position. Beau might have been seriously tempted to crack a joke about flying dwarves if not for the fact that he had given her a hard look and then stared pointedly at Bianca when she opened her mouth.

Anders was looking just as bedraggled as the rest of them. His own hair hung lankly around his ears instead of back in his customary short tail. His robes were torn and stained, and the circles beneath his eyes probably mirrored her own.

Beau knew she wasn't exactly looking like a peach at the moment, and she didn't really care. All she cared about was getting home, seeing her family and Loghain, then bathing and sleeping at least a month straight. She had every intention of letting Varric handle the treasures they had found after defeating that rock thing, a rock wraith was what Anders had called it. From what Varric said, they had discovered what translated into a fortune. She really had no idea how valuable any of it was, so she was going to take his word for it.

"Hawke, if I ever do come to you with another proposition, you can be sure it will involve white beaches and wenches to serve our every whim," he replied, stopping in order to take a look around, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the passageway ahead of them. "We're going in the right direction; this is our way back."

"And how long will it take to get back?" Fenris demanded, crossing his arms over his chest with a scowl.

He smirked. "If we're unlucky, maybe a week."

"And if we're lucky?"

His grin became something almost menacing. "We stumble over Bartrand's corpse on the way."

"Bethany!"

Anders hadn't intentionally been following Hawke, hadn't even been aware his feet were leading him in that direction, until he heard her shrill scream. Looking up, he could see her through the slight crowd that had established around the Hawke residence and he automatically shrank back at the sight of the templars.

"No, no!" Beau was struggling to get past two templars who were holding her at bay while another stepped through the broken doorframe, his hand wrapped firmly around Bethany's upper arm.

"Stop this, Beau, you'll only make things worse," Bethany pleaded, looking up into the helm covered face of her captor. "Please, it's my sister… May I…?"

Nodding, he let go of her and folded his hands in front of him, obviously not worrying about her escaping.

Anders moved along the back of the crowd, maintaining a distance but also trying to get close enough to see, to hear, feeling his heart breaking for the Hawke's. He was all too familiar with this scene.

"Please, Beau, it's better this way… really," Bethany soothed, having been allowed near her family, her arms tightly wrapped around her sister.

Leandra could only stand there, her face stark white, eyes brimming with tears. "Not you too, Bethany," she whispered. "I can't lose you too."

"Mother, you're not losing me." Bethany assured her, swallowing down her own fears and tears, next enveloping her mother in a hug. "I'll be fine, I promise."

"Time to go," the templar interrupted, aware of the crowd surrounding them and reached out for Bethany.

She nodded, her head drooping as she tried hiding her tears, letting him drag her down the steps.

Leandra began wailing, slumping back against the dirt-covered wall.

"No!" Hawke roared, coming out of whatever lull Bethany had managed to calm her in too.

Anders almost shouted her name in a warning to halt when he saw her drawing the dagger, she had found at the top of Sundermount. He had been the one to translate its name to her: Arm of Adriul, though he hadn't had time to properly analyze the obvious magical properties it held.

His eyes widened when she threw herself off the landing and down towards the templars, whirling out of harm's way much quicker than he would have assumed she could. It was probably a fortunate thing that she hadn't drawn her longsword because the templars would have cut her down right then and there. He would grudgingly admit that these templars were not as bad as some he had had the misfortune to run across. Though when one of them knocked Beau down into the grimy, dirt street, he began shoving his way through the throng of people to reach her. After knocking her down, it would have been easy to dispose of her, but they didn't. Instead, the templars simply walked around her, taking Bethany with them.

Halting a safe distance away, Anders kept one eye on the disappearing templars and the other on Leandra Hawke, who was stumbling her way down the stairs to Beau's side.

"Where were you?" she was crying, both holding and hitting her oldest daughter at the same time, the hits feeble. "If you'd been here, they wouldn't have taken her!"

Beau was crying openly, her mouth a tightly compressed gash of bright red against her pale, pinched face. Along with the tears that were falling freely, blood was now running down her chin.

"Come on, Lele, you're making a scene," Gamlen muttered, pulling his hysterical sister off Beau. "Let's go inside, I'll brew you a cup of tea…"

Once Leandra was tucked away inside the hovel -her loud sobs still able to be heard-, and the crowd had begun dispersing, Anders made his way to crouch at Beau's side. "Isabeau, not here…" he whispered in her ear, hesitating when he felt her turning towards him. Her pressing her face in the front of his still disgustingly stained robes reminded him that he had yet a chance to get the Deep Roads off of him.

He was aware that the remaining stragglers were watching them. Two scummy, blood and who knew whatever else covered people, and one of them had just attacked the templars. Gossip material for sure, especially when a few of those stragglers really began taking notice of just what he was wearing underneath all that filth.

"Isabeau, I can't carry you; you'll have to walk," he tried to pry her off him, frowning when she simply clung even harder. "Beau, come on, let's get to my clinic."

She took a deep, shuddering breath and simply nodded.

Anders let out a sigh of relief, apparently, she had heard him through those tears.

This is going to sting a bit," he cautioned awhile later, using a paste of elfroot to daub Beau's split upper and lower lips. He had already packed the inside of her mouth -the are between gum and lips- with it and she had simply sat there through it. It was the healer in him informing her now, she likely didn't care.

Beau simply stared at him, unable to talk with the paste in her mouth.

Letting the medicines do their work, he turned to walk over to his table, where he had dropped his satchel from their expedition. Unpacking it was not exactly a priority but as he couldn't very well strip and bathe with her right there, he needed something to do to distract him from the fact that he smelled liked a pile of dead darkspawn and weeks' worth of body odor. Smelled like them and felt like he had brought several of them home with him on his skin, in his hair and clothing.

It was quiet other than the sounds of him unpacking and her breathing heavily through her nose, at least until he removed the packing in her mouth. "No infections and the cuts will heal nicely within a day."

"Thank you," she said quietly, wrapping her arms around herself. "I didn't mean for you to… to see that."

He simply nodded, now setting down a roughly made bowl of warm, clean water. "I know."

"No, you don't," Beau caught his hand when he raised a damp cloth towards her, tilting her head back to look up into his face. "I mean that I didn't want you to see me like this."

He met her stare, seeing the pain in her bloodshot green eyes, bending down until his forehead was resting against hers. "I know," he breathed, inhaling the very faint scent that was uniquely hers beneath all the other foul odors. This was the closest he had come to her in a long time, outside of when she required his healing services. "I know."

"While I admire your tenacity in getting back on the horse so to speak, I do wonder if it's the best idea."

Beau shot Varric a dirty look before draining the rest of her ale. "I can't sit around the house all day anymore, I'm going crazy." Maker help her, she had spent several weeks with her mother, and sometimes Gamlen, in what was basically mourning for Bethany. She couldn't do it anymore. Bethany was not dead; she was just locked up in the Circle. It wasn't that bad, was it?

A quip sprang to her lips, but he managed to swallow it down, knowing now wasn't the time for remarks concerning her family. Not after what had happened with Sunshine. "I know, why don't we go visit Daisy?"

"Merrill?"

"Sure, we haven't been to see her since you dropped her off in the Alienage, which was before our trip to the Deep Roads."

That had been some months ago and Beau shook her head, her lip curling upwards slightly. "That's because she's a crazy mage who thinks blood magic is alright and demons are her friends. I might not have high standards, but I do have standards."

"Ah but Hawke, she's a nice blood mage who just happens to think demons are cute and cuddly."

Rolling her eyes, Beau pushed away from the table. "Fine, we'll go see her but if she turns into an abomination, I'm going to laugh and say I told you so."

Now it was his turn to cock a brow.

"While running away as fast as I can possibly can."

"It's not so bad here…" Merrill said, glancing at Beau as they walked around the Alienage before looking straight ahead. She had already plowed into a few children a time or two from gawking around; she was aiming for a 'plow free' day today. "Could be worse."

Could be better, they both thought.

"How are you?"

Startled, Beau looked up from her feet. "Sorry?"

"I mean… with Bethany being taken. I heard about it, you know, I'm very sorry."

"I… I'm fine. Mother goes to see her once a week, she says Bethany is doing… all right."

"And you haven't gone once," Varric spoke up from behind them. He had been unusually quiet, which was not his normal, and he smirked when both women jumped.

"Yeah, well, I've been a bit busy," Beau said defensively, lying through her teeth and shot Varric a look that dared him to contradict her. Between spending her days with her mother and sneaking out at night to drink with Isabela… that was busy-ish.

"It's not so bad, being in the Circle, not when there are much worse alternatives." Merrill said reasonably, reasonable and Merrill did not usually go hand in hand. "Like being an apostate on the run, that's hard."

"You manage it, Bethany managed it until we came to this pit. Anders manages it."

"Anders is also a Grey Warden and a healer, the people will protect him." Varric informed her gently, reciting information she already knew. "To a point," he then amended.

"The point being that if someone offering the right amount of coin or promising to turn an eye to something illegal," Beau said bitterly. "Look, I know you're trying to be helpful about… about Bethany, but I just don't want to talk about it."

"Was it something I said?" Merrill asked, turning to watch as Beau walked away, Varric turning alongside her.

"No, Daisy, it's not you. She just has to work through the guilt."

"Guilt? Guilt for what?"

"She thinks it's her fault Bethany was taken."

"Oh… well… that's just silly."