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A/N: My thoughts are below, after the conclusion.

40. Epilogue – Languentes Suscitat Iustitia

Anders

I'll be lucky to remember any of tonight, once everything settles. Especially after leaving the Gallows. It's almost been like a dream, getting here. A real dream, the kind normal people have, that doesn't involve spirits and demons and danger.

The way Isabela hauled me in here, telling me if I wasn't waiting when he's ready to talk to me she'd kill me herself, even though her expression said something entirely different. None of them, not one, have looked on me with anger. I don't understand it. They saw what I did. They know what I am. Even Merrill, screaming at Justice about how my continued living will be needed to balance what I've done, yelling when he didn't want to let me walk that he shouldn't have helped me do something that put me at risk if he didn't want me running away to the only place that will be safe. All I saw on her face the entire time she went on was kindness.

I'll have to tell him the truth, when he gets here. Maker, but I can't look him in the eye.

Then there were the men who brought in the chest, the one from the clinic that had all my books in it. There was even my grimoire, right on top. The memory is fuzzy, but I know Davin sent Fenris and Carver to get something. How could he think of that with all that was going on, with everything I caused?

And then Varric, in the packet he evidently passed to Davin that was sitting inside that chest. Three sets of walking papers, and they look legitimate. False names, and even if it's been years since I've seen them, damn if those don't look like Irving and Greagoir's signatures. Dated ages ago, but giving us legitimate reason to be wandering around nonetheless. If that even matters anymore.

I suppose there's something to be said for the fact that I was still half-catatonic when Carver came in. He gave me the pillow, that bridge between then and now that I've never been able to let go. He called me Brother. Maker knows what he'd have thought of me if I'd been capable of any kind of reaction just then. Or any kind of thought.

And Justice. He's buggered off to some dark recess. Probably doesn't want to think about how cowed he was after Merrill finished shouting. Can't get anything out of him now, not that I'm in a hurry to try. He's backed off. That's good enough for now.

I hope I do remember that alley, though. I could swear I heard people telling Davin he'd done the right thing. Hard not to hear Aveline, the way her voice carries. Even Fenris. I knew he'd backed down on the whole mage thing, but I would have thought he'd be first in line for my head.

Oh, shit. He's here. I can see he's been crying, and I have to hope it isn't as bad as I've seen before. I'm almost paralyzed, wondering what he's going to say, what he's going to do. But as he crosses the cabin and reaches for me, I'm not going to flinch away. No. I'm not doing that to him on top of everything else. It's hard, impossibly hard, but I won't.

And then… All he's doing is shifting me up, moving me down on the wooden bed so he can slide in behind me to sit against the wall. I… I don't believe this. He's pulling me back, settling me against his chest, and he's… His hand is on my chest, and he's whispering in my ear, and I'm hearing on your time, then, love just like every other time he's been determined to wait me out.

It's… too much. I'm undone. I can't control it, I can't hold it in, I can't stop it once it starts. It goes on forever, long past the time it takes for Isabela to call out that we're clear of port and in the open. And all the while, every day of the six years we've had together is flashing through my memory and it feels like it's taking all that time and more before I can stop shaking and shuddering and finally breathe.

And still I can't speak. I have to say these words to him, he has to know, but I can't, not yet. So he does, as he always has.

I'm hearing of injuries and sicknesses and children who fall asleep with my name on their ears, and taking respite and solace where we can. I'm hearing of weights, and scales, and balances, and I know I said all these things to him only yesterday, but I can't believe I'm hearing them now. And when I feel the press of his lips at the back of my head, I can.

"I wanted it. I wanted it." I sound so flat, so hollow, even to myself. But he can't give me what I don't deserve. "When things boiled over the way they did, while you stood between Orsino and Meredith, all of the nightmares, all of the pain and the rage and the fear and the helplessness washed up all at once, flooding into my thoughts and pushing me to the edge, but… Davin, you have to know I'm the one who went over it."

He hasn't stopped soothing my chest, or toying with my hair. And there are his lips again, and I'm hearing him whisper I know, and I can't imagine why he would have all but carried me out of the Gallows as he did once it was all over if he knew it was my hand that caused all that atrocity. And then he's speaking again, and whatever else of tonight I lose I'm praying to the Maker now that I never forget this.

I was standing between Orsino and Meredith, but I was watching you. I knew when you reached the edge, and the second you stumbled over it. But I love you, Anders, and would be showing it poorly if I didn't catch you where you fell and forgive you your missteps.

He's not running away. After I… he's not running away.

Author's Notes

I never expected my puzzling over what could make Anders change so much between Awakening and Dragon Age 2, about what would drive him to a terrorist act, would bring me to quite this much contemplation, but here we are. For those curious, the epilogue title translates as "Dormant Justice."

To those of you who have followed this story from its beginning, thank you. Readers and reviewers all, it has been incredibly rewarding to hear your thoughts and perspectives and to know that you've found my project, and my desire to make some sense of my favorite healer, worth your time.

As for the epilogue… I thought it was fitting, to hold Anders's perspective apart from the rest, given that he's been such a central focus for the story. The reason for it, really.

And if any of you are thinking, "You evil bitch! You arranged it this way to drag it out through the last chapter trying to make us think Hawke had killed Anders!" Well… I thank you for the compliment, and if I did successfully plant that doubt, I'd ask that you please leave me a cookie in a review. ;)

Again, thank you all!