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After their night in the cave, things didn't change, exactly. But there was an...ease between them that hadn't been there before. Anders knew that, whatever his stated reasons, Fenris would do what he could to protect him, to keep him alive. They had never really been enemies, but now there was an unspoken understanding that they were actually allies.
There was something in that knowledge that Anders found vastly reassuring.
When Fenris began coming to clinic, Anders wasn't as surprised as he might have been. In the cave he had noticed that something about the healing magic seemed to bring Fenris a sort of peace. He found himself watching Fenris sometimes in battle, while he was casting, or while Merrill did. None of those spells seemed to have anything like the same effect upon Fenris. In fact, if he wasn't imagining it, being close to battle magic seemed to irritate Fenris. Not in the usual manner of making him cranky, but more like a fly buzzing around his head might. Once, when Merrill had used blood magic for something, Anders had seen Fenris visibly flinch, as if proximity to the spell caused him actual physical pain. Anders desperately wanted to ask him about it, but wasn't willing to break the tenuous truce by pushing the other man too far. Not yet.
So instead, he tried to make Fenris feel welcome in the clinic. Anders set aside lyrium potions for Fenris to carry whenever he made a new batch of them. If he needed help holding a patient down during healing, he would demand Fenris assisted. If things in the clinic were slow while Fenris was there, Anders would insist that Fenris help him with organizing his supplies, or with cleaning. He never asked for the help, exactly, knowing that if Fenris didn't want to do something he would refuse either way, and asking seemed to cross the strange unspoken agreement they seemed to have reached lately. Though Fenris grumbled about the orders, Anders suspected that he did not really mind them at all. He had known Fenris long enough to realize that the elf loathed being idle.
Besides, it gave him amusement to realize that Fenris was willing to help clean the clinic when he still couldn't be bothered to do the same in his own home. Well. It amused Anders until he thought about it for too long, and then it just made him overwhelmingly sad.
A month passed. Two. When they were around the others, they kept up their constant bickering. Anders was still an apostate and an abomination, after all, and Fenris still believed all mages had the potential to become just like the magisters. But in the clinic, when it was just the two of them, it almost seemed like they ceased to be the apostate and the escaped slave. There they were just Anders and Fenris, two men who were quite surprised to realize they rather enjoyed one another's company. They did not speak much, but they did not need to. Words were not needed there. In fact, words only seemed to muddy things up.
Then there was that incident beneath the Gallows. Anders hadn't killed the girl, but it had been a close thing. If Hawke hadn't been able to talk Justice down.... Afterwards, Anders retreated to the clinic to try to make sense of what had happened. He was sitting at his desk and staring blankly at the wall when he heard the clinic door open behind him.
"I'm sorry, but the clinic is closed for the evening."
"I know."
That voice was enough to blow the fog out of Anders' mind. He whirled around to find Fenris standing behind him. His arms were crossed and he was looking at Anders with a blank expression.
"Have you come to lecture me on the errors of my ways?" Anders scowled. Fenris lifted one eyebrow in response. "Or are you here to finally rid the world of just one more abomination?"
"I came to see if you are alright, actually," Fenris said mildly. Anders uttered a breathless and humorless laugh.
"Right. You came to check on me. I almost killed one of the very people I've been risking my life to save."
"But you didn't kill her."
"No," Anders agreed softly. "But it was a near miss. Too near." He dropped his eyes to the ground.
"But you didn't kill her." Fenris said again, more firmly this time. "You managed to best the demon."
"This time." Anders didn't bother to correct Fenris' mistake in calling Justice a demon. It was an argument they'd already had too many times to count. He bit his lip, glancing up to find that Fenris had taken a few steps closer to him. "Do you know why I was able to stop Justice?" The question was barely a whisper.
"Hawke reminded you of who you are," Fenris shrugged, "that we were there to save her, not kill her."
"No," Anders said softly, shaking his head. "That wasn't it."
"Oh?" Fenris took another step closer.
"When Hawke stepped in, grabbed our attention, I looked at all of you, and I saw your face."
"My face?" Fenris straightened in surprise, his arms falling to his sides.
"Yes. You were watching us, watching me, and you looked...expectant. Like you were just waiting for me to do something like this."
"I was." Fenris nodded slowly. He looked at Anders, holding his eyes. "I am. That shouldn't be a surprise to you. One day this demon, this Vengeance, as he has become, will win the battle. It is inevitable. He will take over you completely."
"And you mean to kill me before that can happen." This time it was Anders who took a step closer, closing the gap between them completely. There was no anger in him at the thought. If anything there was relief. If he changed, if he fully gave in to Vengeance, Fenris would stop him.
"No."
"No?" Anders stared at Fenris in shock, those wide green eyes locked on his.
"I will kill you when it happens, not before. You...have proven that you are strong. You deserve the chance to fight against this demon. I will not take that chance away from you." He looked away, gesturing around the clinic. "You do good work here, Anders. For yourself and for the people of this city. If nothing else, you've earned the right to keep doing it for as long as you are able. You are a healer. When you become something else, then I will be there to stop you."
"But what if I am already something else?" Anders whispered, half-made plans and scribbled diagrams with lists of potion ingredients flashing through his mind. Then Fenris placed a hesitant hand on his shoulder and all of those thoughts fled, scattered away as if by a cool, strong breeze.
"You're not," Fenris insisted. "Not yet. Make the most of the time you have left. Do as much good as you can before the demon wins."
Anders blinked, surprised by the encouragement from Fenris, of all people. He stared into those wide, green eyes and for the very first time in a long time he felt calm. Centered.
"Make the most of the time I have left, you say?" He could feel a grin sliding onto his face. Fenris nodded seriously. "Alright then," Anders quipped.
He shifted forward, ever so slightly, and pressed his lips against Fenris'. Cautiously, he brought a hand up to the side of the elf's face, waiting for him to stiffen or to push Anders away. But he didn't. Instead he sighed softly, his hand tightening on Anders' shoulder, and leaned into the kiss.
Anders could barely contain his chuckle as a thought flashed through his mind. He was kissing Fenris, of all people. And not only did it feel as if that was exactly as it was supposed to be, Fenris, of all people, was kissing him back.