Chapter Text
Anders paced the floor restlessly, having given up on getting any work done or doing anything other than worrying.
It was late, and Fenris still wasn’t home. By itself that wasn’t odd enough for more than a passing twinge of unease, but after yesterday’s incident he felt like a bout of floor pacing anxiety was completely called for.
It seemed like all the troubles in this city were growing worse, and intruding on the fragile peace that his relationship with Fenris had brought the both of them.
This was the first time in weeks that he truly regretted not insisting on accompanying Hawke and the others. After Leandra's horrible death, Hawke had been less than friendly with the mages in his group and Anders had made a point out of staying out of his way.
Whatever else you might say about Hawke, he had always been a devoted mama’s boy. Most likely because Leandra had thought the sun rose and set according to her eldest child's whims, which was exactly the way the big Fereldan thought everyone should think of him. Hawke had always striven to put his best face on around her, and to present all of his decisions in the best possible light. He had even managed to make letting Bethany get hauled off to the Gallows look like a sacrifice he was making.
Anders sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to tamp down the rising irritation that accompanied those thoughts. No matter Hawke’s faults, there was no denying that he was genuinely devastated at the loss of his mother and strongest supporter. But the manner of Leandra’s death had hardened his stance against mage’s rights, and the blond had not wanted to antagonize him by insisting he go along.
Yesterday, however, they had been doing a 'favor' for the Arishok that had ended up with them fighting in an alley full of a qunari gas called saar-qamek. The healer had never heard of it before yesterday and he had certainly not been prepared when, after he had just gotten home from the clinic, Fenris had burst through the door and run straight into one of the rooms that they never used, bolting the door behind him. Anders had been baffled by the strange behavior, and a tiny bit frightened too, so he had banged his fist against the door, demanding an explanation.
Fenris had roared back in another language, possibly several other languages, and the sound of breaking furniture added to Anders' fear and confusion. He was preparing the break the door down when there was a pause in the commotion, and the Tevinter spoke in a roughened voice that seemed to be fighting for restraint.
“Anders, I am not...not in control of my mind. You must leave me in here until the madness passes. Do you hear me? Do not open this door...and make certain the cat stays out as well.”
“Fenris! I want to help you, what can I do?”
He heard a snarl and something shattering against the wall.
“Nothing! Just stay away from me...it will pass.”
He spent the next few hours in an agony of worry, not knowing what was wrong with his lover and debating whether he was doing the right thing in following his request. Finally, when the noises from within the room had given way to a silence that stretched beyond bearing, he put his weight behind one shoulder and ran at the door.
And found himself falling inward as the door gave way easily. He looked around the shattered remains of the room and then back at the doorway, noticing that Fenris must have somehow ripped the bolt right off. It was only due to the debris piled against it that the door hadn't just swung open earlier.
His eyes swept over the rubble again, looking for his lover. He finally spotted him mostly buried and only semi-conscious under what was left of a bookcase. Anders quickly pulled him out from under the broken boards and half-dragged, half-carried him up the stairs to their room. The normally inexhaustible elf had fallen asleep as soon as he hit the bed, and hadn't awakened even while Anders removed his armor and cleaned and healed his numerous wounds.
This morning Fenris had still seemed tired, but otherwise back to his usual self as he had explained about the saar-qamak and the crazy elf who had unwittingly unleashed it. The Tevinter said that the gas caused madness in non-kossith, and that while he, Hawke and the others were fighting their enemies it had been controllable, or at least focused, but when it didn't wear off right away they had all agreed that they needed to lock themselves away until it passed. For Fenris the feeling of wanting to rage and destroy things had grown worse as he had made his way back to Hightown, which was why he had come home in such a state.
After a quick once-over of his armor and sword he had left again to accompany Hawke; first to speak with the Arishok about what had occurred, and then to confront a large group of Tevinter slavers that Aveline had gotten a report on.
The healer had offered to come along, but Fenris had reluctantly declined. Anders wished he had pushed harder, as he didn't think the elf had really wanted to leave him behind. Now he was stuck here worrying that something even worse had happened today.
Another fretful hour passed before the Tevinter finally arrived home looking just as ragged, but not nearly as maddened as he had the day before. The healer breathed a sigh of relief as he automatically moved to help his lover out of his armor. Although there were still points of tension in their relationship, they had grown comfortable enough with one another to make a habit out of these little acts of intimacy.
Indeed, once Fenris was in nothing but leggings he wearily dropped his forehead to rest against the nape of the healer's neck and just stood there while Anders gathered him gently in his arms. The blond man nuzzled into the elf's white hair and said firmly,
“I'm not getting left behind anymore. I can't handle this waiting around wondering what terrible monsters you are facing without me.”
Fenris disengaged himself, nodding his head in agreement even as he spoke,
“You know why Hawke has been unwilling to have you along recently, and he is even less friendly with the blood mage. But you are correct, it is unwise to leave our healer behind.”
He paused, and Anders' waited expectantly.
“And I...prefer to have you with me.”
The healer smiled, relishing the little buzz of happiness in his chest that always accompanied these hard-won confessions from the elf.
“It's not so difficult to say is it? I prefer to be with you as well.”
When Fenris gave a soft little snort and looked down at his feet Anders just smiled and rolled his eyes. He gestured towards the big desk in the corner,
“I saved you some supper, you should eat and I'll go draw a bath for us.”
The elf gave him a grateful look, either for the offer or because he had changed the subject, and moved to do as the healer suggested.
~
When Anders awoke the next morning he was filled with a hollow feeling that was uncomfortably familiar. That feeling that told him he hadn't been sleeping, but he had no memory of doing anything else. Just a blank spot in time.
The bed beside him was empty, and as he sat up he spotted Fenris sitting on one of the benches by the fireplace. The elf was leaning forward so that his elbows were resting on his knees with his face buried in his hands. He must have heard Anders stirring, because he lifted his head up to give him a wild-eyed stare that the healer had never seen on his face before. Even at this distance he could clearly see the whites of his eyes outlining the green on all sides. He looked...freaked out. Not at all a common expression on his normally implacable face.
“Fenris, what is it? Did something happen?”
The elf rubbed his hand across his forehead and straightened up in his seat. He looked away when he began speaking, and Anders had to strain to make sense of the low rumble.
“Last night...your spir...Justice decided he needed to speak to me.”