Work Text:
It’d been three weeks and five days since Hawke left. They’d returned home from another rally, he and Hawke, to find a letter tucked under their door signed with a familiar flourish that made his stomach turn. A quick glance from Hawke told him all he needed to know; Varric was finally cashing in on that long-overdue favour, and Anders would be left alone.
He didn’t mind entirely, not at first. Hawke had been away before, of course. They both had. Sometimes their efforts to support the rebellion had kept them apart for days at a time, but even through that they’d still managed to keep in touch, even if it was just via a nervous courier carrying a note bearing a scribbled ‘I love you stay safe’. But this time, Hawke was going to a place far away, with important people and templars. And, considering he was a wanted apostate with the destruction of a Chantry and thousands of people hanging over his head…Hawke certainly wasn’t going to be popular with a lot of people their, helping or not.
“Varric explained as much as he could.” Hawke had said the night before he left, gripping onto Anders’ hands like he was afraid to let go. “He trusts the Inquisitor, of course, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be under watch.” Then he’d sighed, looked away, and Anders’ heart had dropped. “There are still people looking for you. Any letters I send might be…checked.”
A silence stretched between the, broken only when Anders replied with, “I understand.” and pressed a kiss to the space between Hawke’s eyes. And he had. Between Justice and the crimes he knew he’d one day be forced to repent for, he was a dangerous man to associate with. But that didn’t mean he’d agreed with it. He’d wanted to complain, to ask him to stay and, for once, say ‘fuck you’ to the world instead of stupidly putting his neck on the line. Instead he’d sucked in a sharp breath and told him he’d miss him.
Of course, ‘miss him’ had been an understatement. When it came to the rebellion, time apart from Hawke meant duty, and duty meant distraction. But now he was without a thing to do except think and work quietly. So think and work he did.
The first week, he managed to keep himself together. The low blue hum in the back of his mind was quiet, thank the Maker, and the letters and papers that needed to be seen to seemed endless. He sat there for what felt like a quiet eternity, writing and shuffling and organizing. One letter caught his eye - there was another wave of Templars down in the Hinterlands, on schedule with their monthly assignment. Except this time, they were glowing red and assaulting villagers. He examined it for a few seconds, then sighed and pushed it into the pile he’d mentally labelled ‘Hawke’. Red Lyrium was his responsibility. Justice snarled at the back of his head, probably screeching about how it was actually his responsibility before returning to dormancy once more. Anders winced and went back to work, forcing the letter out of his mind.
By the start of the second week, his resolve was waning - his arms were starting to ache, and he’d somehow managed to miss sleep, despite having all the time in the world - probably because of Justice. And said spirit was starting to whine. “It’s been too long ,” The voice in his mind insisted, becoming less like a hum and more like a buzz as the spirit began to rise. “He does not understand. We cannot wait for him forever, Anders.”
“Watch me.” Anders mumbled back, too tired to argue. He fumbled with the quill for the ink pot, forcing himself to keep working. As long as he kept going, Justice couldn’t push through. But his eyes and head continued to drop forward, and after another ten minutes or so of battling the drowsiness he sighed and forced himself to his feet. His back cracked audibly as he rose and all-too-gladly started towards to bed, and by the time he’d reached the mattress he was already fast asleep.