[Closed] You have always worn your flaws upon your sleeve

[apurrstate]

Who: Anders, Riona and Justice
Then Anders and Wolfe
Broadcast: No
Action: Iskaulit herb garden, then Malum
When: Forward dated to early January

They'd had plenty of time to decompress from the stresses of the red planet and the exploding one before it. Anders had even taken the time to speak to Hermione and Vash about how might be best to talk to Justice about the issue the spirit had long since known Anders was avoiding. And he was avoiding it, as though putting it off would delay it forever. As if he could truly hide something so important from one of his closest friends and a spirit.

One day, either through Atroma's slip or his own, Justice would finally see the massive hole in Anders' soul, the piece of him ripped away by Allen's blade and sent back to the Fade, the chasm that would be damningly Justice-shaped. It was only by the grace of the Maker he hadn't found out yet. The Maker as well as Fenris and Hawke and anyone else who knew keeping their mouths shut.

But they couldn't hold this dance for the rest of their time here...and, in the end, it wasn't fair to either of them. It had nearly been half a year. The lies and dodged questions would have to stop. Anders needed to stop it.

He orchestrated carefully. First, he sent a message to Riona to tell her he'd changed his mind. It was a deeply personal matter, this conversation, but if anyone else had any right to be there, it was their commander and best friend. She could bring a balance to the situation, should...Anders didn't even know what. If Justice grew angry or somehow suddenly violent, it would be the least the mage would deserve. No, it wasn't for that, it was for if Justice went the other way and sunk into the despair he expected would be his friend's eventual reaction. Anders would want to comfort him, to be there for him, but Anders would be the source of distress to begin with. Justice would need someone else.

Justice might not even want to talk to or see him again after this. Anders would deserve that too.

After Riona, it was Hermione to tell her he needed the herb garden, a place with a soothing and natural atmosphere would, hopefully, help. Then Wolfe, just to let him know...in case. In case of anything. At the very least to let his love know where he was disappearing off to and not to search for him.

Last was Justice himself. Just a simple message sent to start off the inevitable avalanche.

"Meet me and Riona in the herb garden on the Iskaulit. I owe you some answers."

He didn't wait for any of the replies, he went to the greenhouse himself and tended the elfroot and embrum and deep mushrooms and various other plants he and Hermione had planted there for their potions. Busy and familiar work to cope with the painful and ever-tightening knot threatening to choke him from his chest.

One way or the other, it would all be over after today.

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[apurrstate]

He barely pays any attention to where they're going, he's blind to anything but his own internal struggle against the seemingly inevitable. But the unmistakable sound of the shuttle door closing and Hawke's strong arms wrapped around him pull his attention and all feeling of desperation chokes under a new flood.

Anger. Hate. Disgust. It swirls and overwhelms and it's suddenly all he can feel and it's all turned inward. He did this, he's the cause of this pain and ruination for people he cares about, people who matter so much to him. He just made it worse. He always made it worse. He'd given them the choice, one to be there and the other to know at all and yet how could it not be his own fault when he was the cause of the need to share anything. He always lost everything he could even remotely call 'his.'

The wardens couldn't stand him, wanted him out despite his value as a healer. The others of their little group had all left him without a second thought, they likely hadn't even missed him when all he'd ever done was throw sarcasm, teasing and a flippant attitude their way.

Before that, he'd lost Amell and Jowan by leaving them behind just to run away again. Would things have been different if he just hadn't been such a selfish coward? He lost Karl to his own carelessness, he had to have slipped up somewhere in one of his letters, maybe the maid, and he hadn't been fast enough-

His next breath caught and he choked and he suddenly didn't dare breathe as something rushed through him like a tremor. But he had to breathe and on his next breath, the blockade he'd put on this feeling crumbled into dust and the sound that escaped him was unrecognizable to his own ears.

Kirkwall, he'd pushed everyone away. His mind went to his most recent conversation with Fenris, the banter, the teasing, could that have been his reality had he not been him? If he'd just picked his fights more closely, focused his ire on those that actually deserved it instead of the few that would still watch his back even if they didn't agree- and now they were all gone- dead or otherwise- from his and Hawke's lives. They were Hawke's friends more than anything and Anders had forced them away with his actions. Actions for the good of Thedas, sure, but actions that had hurt far more than those caught in the chantry at the time.

Varric. The look in his face- and then he hadn't looked Anders in the eye after-

He shook as though he would fall apart and his hands clenched tightly in or on whatever they found under them as his whole chest seemed to hallow itself with bone-crushing sob that finally brought the tears to his eyes he'd been dreading.

What right did he have to crumble like this? to cry? He'd done so much worse, this pain wasn't even a portion of what he deserved to feel and, instead, he'd placed some of it on Riona and Justice as well. Riona...Justice would have hurt her less if he'd slapped her, the look she'd given Anders as she left...pity, guilt, pain, grief- and Justice. He'd cried. The spirit had cried and it had shaken him to his core. He'd wanted to fall to his knees right then and there and beg for forgiveness, but it was horrifically selfish to ask for something he didn't deserve, he'd done that far too much in his life. Selfish. The epitome of his selfishness held him now and he suddenly wished he'd just come here himself and been alone so Wolfe wouldn't deal with it. But also this was somehow the only thing he had left, Maker only knew how when he'd ruined Hawke's life nearly as thoroughly as Justice's, Anders couldn't lose this now. Selfish. Horrible. Pathetic. bawling like a babe over a bed you've made and are now choosing to lie in-

The tears came faster, thicker, his breathing harsh and shallow as his body shook and wavered no better than a banner caught in a breeze. But other than the sound that had escaped him before, he remained nearly silent. His mind wailed and thrashed and screamed into nothing, but while his body mirrored, it was a silent action.

Maker if he could just choke on his own inability to breathe and die now, it would be such a relief and better for everyone he constantly hurt.

[wolfehawke]

Anders falls apart in his arms and it's all that Adalwolfe can do to try and hold him together. He doesn't wail, doesn't whimper other than that first sound that had ripped Adalwolfe's heart to pieces in his chest. Hawke holds Anders close and tight and does all he can to surround him with what safety and peace he can provide. Too little, too meager he thinks now. Not enough in the face of this much pent up sorrow and hurt and... whatever else this is.

He doesn't have the words for what this is. He's never seen Anders cry even when he thinks perhaps he should have. After Karl, after he'd nearly killed that girl, after the Chantry. Things that rend a person apart. But Anders had always stubbornly refused. This, though. This was enough and he's not sure what was said but he knows it must have been beyond any of those previous things to cause this.

He doesn't shush his love, doesn't plead with him to stop crying as he used to with Bethany when they were young. He just stays and runs his hand through Anders' hair and down his back and keeps his breathing steady. He'll be a rock, he thinks. Something sturdy for his love to keep hold of until the storm passes.

[apurrstate]

It's several minutes of the blistering static in his head before there's any sign of the end. His mind repeats every barbed, poisonous word it's come up with and any other it could add in like a mantra of sickening sorrow and disgust. He wanted to claw his skin off, scream, run until everything fell away and nothing remained and he was truly empty and no longer him, but he barely moved outside the quaking of his entire body. Each sob was torn from him as though his lungs knew it wasn't supposed to be happening and still fought to keep quiet or prevent the onslaught of emotion already flooding him.

The fabric of Hawke's shirt and the other mage's neck were damp with Anders' tears, but eventually they stopped. They stopped first. The choked sounds of broken breath evened out and Anders' vice grip on Hawke's back eased, allowing him to finally feel the ache of muscles clenched too tight for too long. He couldn't breathe through his nose and shudders still ran through him, but they were aftershocks as that storm did eventually pass.

He didn't dare pull away, not yet, he couldn't bare the thought of losing the feeling of Hawke's arms holding him so tightly so soon; he would surely fall to actual pieces if he did. But he also couldn't bare to see what might be in Hawke's expression. Pity? Disgust? Sadness for him? None of it would be good. The only thing he deserved was contempt. What right did he have to fall apart at all? He'd kept it together for so long...

"...sorry..." His voice seemed sapped from him, only a bare whisper able to escape between shaky gulps of air.

[wolfehawke]

"Shh, no apologies," Wolfe keeps brushing his hand along Anders' hair. He forces the tension out of himself, forces the anger at Justice for this to even be happening, for his shattering of the man in Wolfe's arms. It's unconscionable, and yet... Hawke knows it's not only Justice just as he knew it wasn't only Anders that day on the steps of the Chantry. It's both and it's neither. It's circumstance and unavoidable even insofar as it seems something they could all control. But that's the lie they tell themselves, isn't it? Control doesn't exist.

Or maybe it does, in doses. He can't control what happened or what will happen or even what Anders thinks and feels about it, but he can control himself. He is sovereign of his own actions, and he will use that power for Anders now. Now and always.

"I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

[apurrstate]

He wants to ask why, how, rant about how foolish Hawke's choices were when all Anders seemed to bring was despair and disappointment. Even his greatest accomplishment would never be something looked on in one solid light, it would always be a barbed and comforting thing all at once and Anders himself felt no different.

He lied, put a near-constant strain of worry and sadness on his love and was arguably the most wanted man in all of Thedas and yet Hawke stayed and held him and whispered kindnesses to him and stayed by him through it. He wants to ask why, cry it out until he gets a real answer that satisfies the clawing in his mind, but he doesn't. He swallows it and it chokes him, but it isn't what escapes him as his voice slowly returns. "Thank you. I'll never know what I did to keep you here, but-...thank you."