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The sound woke Anders - a cacophony that rose in pitch and volume likes shades crying out their pain and fear. He sat up and clapped his hands over his ears. He fell back to his sleeping mat only to arch up as the pain in his head spread down his body and centered in his chest. His heart thrummed under the waves of agony, his blood pumping through him in a beat that reverberated with the rising wail. He seized, crying out as everything - the sound, the pain, the rush of his blood, reached a crescendo. His eyes bulged, the rocky roof of the cave above vividly bright with hot white light. Then it was dark.

A hand shook Anders’ shoulder. Opening his eyes, he realized that he must have fallen asleep. A dream, perhaps? The pain and sound was gone, leaving behind nothing more than tiny clicks and ticks in his ears. He was shaken again, and he turned his head to see Hawke looming over him. His face was pale in the morning light, his lips moving frantically. There was no sound, though. Nothing but the rushing of his blood and a pop and hum that filled his ears, the hum tinny and high pitched.

“Anders! Maker’s balls. You’re bleeding from your ears. Anders?” Hawke shook Anders again. The man lay calmly, staring up at him with a frown. Finally, Anders reached out and touched Hawke’s lips.

“Anders?”

Anders hand pulled back and horror filled his face. He reached for his ears and started when they came away wet with blood. He reached for Justice to find out what had happened and found...nothing. His mind was wholly his, empty of all thoughts but his own. He opened his mouth to speak and no sound emerged. He pressed his hand to his neck and tried again, gasping out the words “what in the void,” to no avail. No vibrations met his fingers.

“What has happened?” Fenris had moved up to sit with Hawke. The elf’s green eyes widened as he took in Anders’ hands glowing bright with healing energy. “His ears…”

“He has no voice. I don’t think he can hear.” Hawke grabbed for one of Anders’ hands as he began to flail. “Anders...Anders stop…”

“Hawke, he cannot hear you. He’s panicking.”

“I’m panicking.”

“Why are we panicking? Oh shit, what’s wrong with Blondie?” Varric hovered behind Hawke and gawked at Anders.

Anders swung his other hand and slapped Hawke, who fell backwards onto Varric with a grunt. Anders managed to scoot away from the group and huddle against the back of the shallow cave they had camped in overnight. His eyes gleamed wetly in the morning light. He pulled his knees to his chest, wrapped his arms around them, and began to rock.

“Hawke. Go start breakfast with Varric.”

“What are you going to do? Now isn’t the time to poke at him.”

Fenris turned his head and speared Hawke with a glare. “Your worrying is making this worse. Get food going. He will need the normalcy.”

“Normalcy. He’s deaf.”

Fenris turned back to look at Anders. “So he will have adjustments. Fretting will not solve this.”

“And what are you doing?”

“I will calm him. Please Hawke, go.”

“Come on Hawke. I think we should let Broody try. If it doesn’t work, I’ll go back there.”

Hawke wrung his hands. “I just...do you think it was the blood mage?”

“He got hit by a spell?” Fenris was watching Anders shake as he rocked.

“One of the blood mage slavers we fought yesterday got him. Justice was making an appearance when it happened. I thought he had shrugged it off.” Hawke tucked his hands under his armpits to keep from reaching for Anders. “I thought Justice...he would have stopped it.”

Fenris sighed. “Go get breakfast ready. I will see what I can do.”

Hawke pursed his lips, but did as he was told and left with Varric to stoke the fire and gather breakfast. Fenris watched Anders rock, hesitating over how best to get his attention. He could remember times that Danarius would take his other senses - sight, sound, the ability to speak. Sometimes for training, sometimes for punishment, sometimes just to prove a point or show off how well Fenris could follow command.

Touch, during those times, had been especially hard to handle. The feeling of fingers would only herald pain or humiliation, never help. Never comfort. Now, he found himself having to touch and it wasn’t with the rough affection Hawke showed or the sly flirting done by Isabela.

He crept to Anders’ side and with a gentleness that he hadn’t realized he even knew how to show, brushed Anders’ hair back from his face. Anders looked up, eyes bloodshot and skin mottled red, and frowned. He opened his mouth to speak and gave a panicked look as nothing came out.

Fenris showed Anders his hands. Held out and open, empty, devoid of armor or weapons, he tried to show Anders that he was safe. Anders reached out and grasped one of Fenris’ hands in a clenching hold. Fenris tugged to let Anders know he should scoot closer, which he did. Fenris tapped Anders’ knee and Anders dropped his legs and finally, gradually, leaned against Fenris’ shoulder.

He was stiff, unsure why Fenris would do this. They usually bickered. Maybe not as rough and angry as they used to, back before being stuck in the Deep Roads together had forged a bond between them. Still, there were many cases where Anders found himself frustrated with Fenris and vice versa.

But Fenris was here with him. His touch was steady and not overwhelming. Anders knew that of all of them, Fenris would have the best idea of what to do. Anders had never been privy to Fenris’ conversations about his past, but he had some clue that Fenris had been terribly abused .

The lack of Justice in his head made the situation more surreal. There were no feelings of anger beyond his own. Worse, there was no voice to combat the steadily growing fear that pushed its way through Anders. He was alone in his head for the first time in years, with no sounds other than his thoughts and the tinny whine that rose up on occasion. His voice had been silenced. He felt cut-off from everybody, from life, from Hawke and Varric.

Only the touch of Fenris’ hand and the warmth of his shoulder grounded him. He dared to move closer and press tighter to Fenris and Fenris gave a huff...the sound a vibration that Anders’ felt...and released his hand to wrap one arm around his back. The feeling of Fenris’ arm was anchoring and Anders relaxed into it.

“Breakfast is ready.” Hawke’s tentative words made Fenris look up. Anders followed Fenris’ movements and stared at Hawke. “Is he...ok?”

Fenris snorted at that. “No. But he will eat. I will bring him there.”

“You’re holding him.”

“Yes.” Fenris stared at Hawke, waiting for Hawke to finish his thoughts.

“You hate being touched. Why…”

“It grounds him. Let me get him to breakfast. Go and sit with Varric. Act normal. Do not fuss.”

Hawke nodded. He was happy to hand the reigns over to Fenris, unsure of what would help or hurt the situation. He smiled at Anders and reached out with to pat at Anders’ knee. Anders moved away from the touch and Hawke froze.

“Hawke. Ask before you touch.”

“But he can’t hear.”

Fenris sighed. “Go sit with Varric. We’ll be along shortly.”

Hawke frowned, but didn’t question Fenris. Instead, he walked back to the opening of the cave. Fenris waited till he was gone before he turned to look at Anders. Anders felt the movement and looked at Fenris.

Fenris scooted back a little and showed Anders his hands. He pointed at Anders and then patted his belly while asking “Are you hungry?”

Anders tilted his head and nodded. Fenris pointed to the front of the cave. He mimed eating. Anders lips twitched up into a shy smile and nodded again. Fenris stood and cocked his head at Anders, gesturing for him to follow. Anders slowly stood. With only a little more prompting, he headed towards the front of the cave.

It felt strange to watch his friends around the fire. Anders could see Hawke smile at him and move his lips, but no sound reached him. The fire burned steadily, but he couldn’t hear its crackle and pop. A touch on his arm caused him to jerk sideways and into Fenris. When he turned his head, Varric had his hands up. He could feel the vibrations from Fenris’ body as he spoke and could see the sudden understanding on Varric’s face, but he couldn’t hear the conversation.

Varric nodded and pointed to Fenris. Anders turned his head to look at Fenris and watched as he held up his hands and then gestured at Anders. Anders frowned, not understanding. Fenris tried again and held out one hand, palm up. Understanding hit him and he held out one hand.

Y-O-U-F-U-L-L

Anders frowned as Fenris slowly spelled out words on his palm. It took a couple tries before Anders caught the meaning and nodded. Fenris bent his head to spell out H-O-M-E before looking at Anders and pointing to himself.

Anders shook his head. He pointed at himself. Fenris raised one eyebrow before shaking his head. Anders huffed and crossed his arms. He could feel the pout on his lips. He narrowed his eyes and held out his hand again, only this time he summoned a small flame. He glared at Fenris, who glared back.

Fenris reached up and tapped his ears and then gestured to the room around them. Anders dropped the flame and slumped. He was right, the blasted elf. Anders couldn’t hear. He had no idea what Hawke was doing while he glared at Fenris. He had no idea where Varric was.

Fenris’ hand appeared in his line of vision and Anders glanced up to stare at him. Fenris’ fingers moved lightning fast. They formed shapes and gestures. He stopped and raised his eyebrow. Anders shook his head, not understanding what Fenris wanted. That made Fenris hold out his hand. Slowly, Anders gave him his.

T-E-A-C-H Fenris spelled out slowly and then pointed at Anders.

“What are you on about?” Hawke asked.

“I’m bringing him home with me. I know slave sign and will teach it to him.”

“Oh, and how many others know this slave sign?” Hawke raised his hands when Fenris glared at him. “I’m just…”

“It is based on old scout signals, Hawke. Some of the words are mimed different, but the general meanings remain the same. It has been a part of the Imperium since...for as long as any slave knows. We all learn it eventually. We all have need of it eventually. How else would a household run if the slaves did not have a manner to communicate that would not annoy their masters?”

“That may be, but you two aren’t exactly bosom buddies. Wouldn’t it be better for him to come home with me?”

“Where you will coddle him like he is some invalid?”

“He is. He’s deaf.”

“He has lost one sense, not all of them. He will come home with me. I will make sure he attends to his clinic and that he is safe. You have the Viscount’s demands to deal with. The Qunari are only growing more difficult.”

“Don’t remind me. Fine. But at least allow me to get that mess of a mansion cleaned up.”

“It will cause people to notice me.”

“Hate to break it to you, Broody, but people already notice you. Hawke is owed some favors by the Viscount. He can get the mansion for a song and rent it to you. Easy as pie. We fix it up and you and Blondie here have someplace safe.”

Anders was staring at Fenris through all of this, confusion on his face. Fenris forced himself to relax. “Fine. Do what you feel is necessary.”

“Always do!” Hawke grinned at Varric who just laughed.

***

Fenris would be the first to admit that housekeeping was not one of his strong points. He kept his room tidy: the glass in one corner, the bed covered in clean sheets and blankets, his chairs empty, and his belongings put away. But the rest of the house was a mess. The upstairs bath was less of a mess, the tub being covered in soap stains and the rub constantly damp. The downstairs kitchen showed promise, provided nobody looked at the dust in the corners, the cobwebs along the ceiling, and the grease on the unused stove. The rest of the house, however, was beginning to sink into filth and decay.

Fenris was looking now, and he felt ashamed. None of his jobs with his former Master had included cleaning. And as much as he was loathed to admit it, he was used to somebody just straightening life around him. A slave had no need to clean their own belongings because they had none. There were slaves to clean the clothes, clean the bath, and clean the rooms. None of that had been his job. And while he was on the run, he stayed nowhere long enough to worry about such things.

However, Anders was tidy. His clinic, despite it being in the sewers, was organized and as clean as he could make it. Anders himself was usually a mess, but his surroundings were always well-kept.

Fenris glanced at Anders and shrugged, which made Anders shake his head. Anders mimed sweeping and Fenris shrugged again. Anders rolled his eyes at what he took to mean there was no broom. Or maybe Fenris didn’t know where the broom was.

Anders followed Fenris up the stairs and into his bedroom. Truthfully, it was the first time Anders had been upstairs since they cleaned out the mansion. The carpet was faded and worn and the walls held bloodstains and charring from the battle. Fenris’ room had a hole in the ceiling covered by a blanket. Cool air swirled in and teased over his face. He couldn’t hear the flap of the blanket, but he could feel the movement of the air.

Fenris stepped in front of him, and Anders looked down to meet his gaze. It was strange looking at Fenris instead of Hawke. After Hawke had reclaimed his own mansion, he had made sure Anders knew he was welcome at all hours of the day or night. Fenris had...not exactly ignored him, but certainly didn’t invite him over.

Fenris held up his hand so that Anders could see it. Then he pointed at a door to their right. He mimed rubbing over his neck and chest. Anders cocked his head and pointed at the door again, rubbed his hands together and then acted like he was splashing his face. Fenris nodded.

Ah, the bathing room. Anders nodded enthusiastically. He held out one of his own hands and summoned a small ball of flame, extinguished it, and then shot Fenris a hopeful smile. Fenris rolled his eyes and nodded and then - slowly- pushed Anders towards the door. Anders laughed, head thrown back and eyes sparkling, and he headed into the bathing room to start the water.

Fenris waited for the sound of water filling the large tub and then rifled through one of the random chests that had been pushed against a far wall. He pulled out an old, yellowed shirt - long and wide and obviously designed to sleep in. Fenris threw it over one shoulder and then rummaged some more before pulling out long, worn leggings. Their previous owner had obviously been a tall large man. Anders was tall but slender. Fenris figured baggy beat out naked, especially with the late fall winds.

The water had stopped, but there was no noise from the bathing room. Fenris hesitated before walking across the bedroom and opening the door. Anders was in the tub, his head down and his shoulders shaking.

Fenris stood in the doorway and shifted on his feet. He wasn’t surprised at the outburst, only at how long it had taken to happen. He supposed they had been busy with packing up and walking and that had kept Anders’ focused outside of himself. Now, sitting alone in the tub, he was having to face just how much change had happened in his life.

Fenris put the clothes down and removed his gauntlets, pauldrons, and breastplate. He went back into the bedroom to stack his armor tidily, and then returned to the bathing room in his tunic and leggings. He crept to the tub and knelt down, slid one hand into the water, and splashed a little water onto Anders’ arm.

Anders lifted his face, misery etched in the lines around his eyes and lips. Tears gathered at the corner of his eyes, trailed down his cheeks, and dripped from his chin. He stared at Fenris a moment before crumpling into silent sobs. Fenris kept his touch light as he brushed back Anders’ hair and rubbed along the back of his neck.

Anders sniffled and looked at Fenris through the fall of his hair. Fenris grimaced and then mimed a collar around his neck. Anders’ eyes widened and nodded. Fenris mimed being pulled on and then touched his ears. He touched his throat and then mimed the collar again. Anders’ blanched and touched his ear and then pointed at Fenris.

Fenris sighed and touched his eyes. He watched horror blossom on Anders’ face. He wasn’t sure if he was fully explaining it, but Anders seemed to have grasped that Fenris understood. Anders suddenly gripped his hand and pulled him from his thoughts. Anders pressed his hand to his chest and then his head. He screwed his face up into a scowl and acted out getting angry.

“Justice?” Fenris asked, feeling foolish the minute the word left his mouth. Anders squinted and motioned for Fenris to speak again. “Justice?” He drew the word out slowly.

Anders shook his head. Fenris gripped the tub. “Gone?” He enunciated the word.

Anders’ face crumpled as he dissolved into tears. Fenris hesitated before picking up the soap. He patted Anders’ arm and showed him the soap. He shook his head and returned to his sobbing. Fenris pursed his lips, put the soap back down, and settled next to the tub to wait for Anders to stop crying.

Anders found himself bustled from the bath, into the sleep clothes, and back into the bedroom after his crying jag. His skin felt pin-prickled sensitive. Every brush of air had him turning his head to look for the source of the movement. A sudden touch by Fenris startled him and earned him an apologetic look. Fenris pointed at a chair by the fire and Anders sat down, uncertain and scared.

The silence wasn’t...not completely. There was a nuance to it, a level of quiet that was filled not with static but the beat of his heart and a soft whoosh of sensation when a stiff breeze ruffled the blanket over the hole in the roof. Anders could feel the house under his sock-covered feet. The floors vibrated, even with how light Fenris walked. The fire moved with the wind. The coolness of the air took on a slightly warmer hue when Fenris stepped closer with a pad of paper and a pen.

The paper held a question - the one Fenris had asked and he had answered.

“Justis is gon?”

Anders looked at Fenris and nodded. He felt the spirit’s loss keenly. No matter how difficult it had been to live with Justice, he had been his friend. There was a hole in himself now, a missing link. More than his hearing, more than his voice, Justice had been a constant companion.

Now he was left with nothing but the strange not-silence. His voice had been silenced. His hearing was gone. He felt afloat in the world, anchored only by the chair and touch of Fenris’ fingers on his arm.

Fenris moved his hands in a complicated sign and then took the paper and wrote, “Hungry?”

Anders tilted his head and watched Fenris touched his lips and draw his hand down to his belly. He mouthed the word “hungry” at Anders as he repeated it. Anders nodded and then mimicked the word. Fenris made a fist and mimed a knocking motion. Then he touched his lips and drew his hand down to his belly. Anders blinked in surprise.

“Yes. Hungry.” He signed.

Fenris nodded and took the paper. He wrote slowly, his face screwed up in concentration. Hawke had been teaching him to write and he had only a basic grasp of spelling and grammar. It was enough to get his point across, though.

“Slave sine. Teach.”

Anders took the page and corrected Fenris spelling. Then he peeked up at him and responded. “Like scout signs?”

Fenris made the “yes” motion again. Anders shyly smiled and took the paper.

“Want to learn it. Thank you.”

***

Two weeks after the attacks, Fenris signed the paperwork for the mansion. Varric assured him that workmen would start work immediately on repairing the roof and that it would be done before winter hit.

The news put him in a good mood. Fenris would never have thought that helping another could be so fulfilling. He had never been in the position to offer aid. He had never owned anything of value to give.

He now had a home. And he had been teaching Anders the signs. As Anders learned, Fenris felt pride blossom. It was so alien a sensation that he shied away from it. Unlike his affection for Hawke, his feelings for Anders were harder to pin down.

They had started off on the wrong foot almost from the moment they met. Fenris hadn’t been able to put his trust in a mage, and Anders had taken it as personal attack. Fenris had to admit that it had been one, that every harsh word dredged up had been designed to wound Anders. Not that Anders hadn’t given back as good as he got. He had been just as willing to attack Fenris.

The two of them had circled around each other, hissing and spitting like two angry cats. Then the Deep Roads had happened. Whatever distrust felt for each other had melted away into grudging respect. Fenris had watched Anders fight the darkspawn and his dreams while in the Deep Roads. And he could admit that it wasn’t Hawke that had led him out safely, but Anders.

Since then, they had existed in a state of tentative peace. Neither of them had seemed to want to break what small trust had sprung up. The attack on Anders had pushed the trust from something small to something steadfast. Fenris didn’t want to admit it, but the loss of Justice helped him see Anders clearly for the first time. And Anders leaned on Fenris in a way nobody had ever done.

His excitement ebbed when he came home and found Anders slumped and red-eyed. He dropped the paperwork on his table and quickly moved to kneel by Anders. He waited, patiently, while he breathed slowly in his direction. Gradually, Anders looked at him.

“Never be whole.” Anders hands moved through the signs with only a little difficulty. “Useless.”

Fenris shook his head and signed back. “Whole. Healthy. Good. Mage.”

Anders sobbed and shook his head. “Broken. No healing. Dangerous.”

Fenris sat back on his heels. He had to admit, Anders was right. Going to Darktown to heal would be dangerous. Unless he had help. Unless…

The thought stuttered in his mind. He had been a bodyguard for a mage. He knew how to protect them, how to be a deterrent, and how to hide and ambush. He look at Anders and felt an unfamiliar twinge in his chest. He wanted to help, he realized.

“I. Help.” Fenris signed. He looked at Anders and signed the words again. “I. Help. You.”

Anders patted around on the floor and picked up a notebook and pen. He scribbled something down and handed it to Fenris.

“No. You can’t want to stand in Darktown while I heal. You have things to do with Hawke.”

Fenris snorted and wrote back. “I want to.”

Anders grumbled. The sound was a low grunt in Anders’ throat, a rumble of sound that he couldn’t be heard but felt. He frowned and touched his throat and grumbled again. He grabbed for Fenris’ hand and pressed it to his throat.

Vibrations. Faint, but there. Anders pointed at Fenris and then his ears. Fenris slowly enunciated, “Anders?”

Anders shook his head. He concentrated and healing magics swirled around his neck and head. He picked up the pad and wrote again. Fenris leaned forward to see.

“Ears permanently damaged. Throat healing. May be able to talk.”

Fenris wrote under that. “Still will help.”

Anders rolled his eyes.

Fenris patted Anders’ shoulder and stood, going back to the table to get the papers he had left. He gathered them up, returned to Anders, and handed him the papers. Anders looked at Fenris and then began to read. Gradually, a smile filled his face.

He laughed. There was a rough burst of sound that faded away. Chuckling, Anders signed, “Roof. Fixed. Yes?”

Fenris nodded. He lowered his hand and then tugged at his chin, their sign for Varric, and then pointed to the roof. He held up three fingers.

Three days and Varric’s people would be there. Anders looked up at the roof and then over to their bed. He pointed at the bed and then the roof. Fenris tilted his head and nodded.

“Messy. Move?”

“Help. You. Day. Night. Sleep. Bed.”

Anders narrowed his eyes at Fenris. He poked Fenris’ chest. “Planned.” He signed and poked Fenris again. Fenris chuckled and grabbed Anders’ hand. Anders’ fingers were smooth, though his palm was rough with callouses. Anders watched Fenris with interest as he rubbed his hand.

“Fenris?” The mouthed word was accompanied by a little wheezing grunt.

Fenris squeezed his hand and released it. “Help. You.”

Anders sighed, made a production of rolling his eyes, and nodded. Fenris reached forward to brush the tears from his cheeks. His fingers slid over warm smooth skin and then down to the ever-present stubble. Anders leaned into the touch and closed his eyes, relaxing into the caress.

“Friends?” Anders signed, opening his eyes and staring at Fenris.

Fenris nodded and sat back, unsure of what to do or how to feel. Anders looked just as flustered, his eyes wide and his cheeks tinged pink. He leaned forward and reached out with his fingers towards Fenris’ face. Fenris closed his eyes as Anders brushed his fingers over his cheek and then down to his chin. Anders grunted a little and pulled back. Fenris shivered from the touch, the air cold over the skin that Anders’ had touched.

“Tomorrow?” Anders signed.

“Stay. Here?”

Anders blinked. “Yes?”

Fenris picked up the notebook. He scribbled out a message and handed it to Anders.

“Live here. Get things tomoro?”

Anders touched Fenris’ hand and signed, “Yes.”

***

Anders tried to not stare at Fenris as they made their way to Darktown. He had long held an ill-advised crush on Fenris. Justice had given him the strength to ignore it. Work had kept him busy enough to not always think about the handsome elf with the strong convictions. Plus, they had started out at each other’s throats.

It took the Deep Roads to make Anders see past their bickering. The call of the darkspawn had kept him awake. When they would stop for a break, Hawke and Varric would bed down and he would sit and stare out into the dim corridor. Fenris would sit next to him. They had started off silent. Then, gradually, they began to talk.

Anders talked about being a warden. He described the call of the darkspawn, the duties that kept him underground and in caves, the camaraderie that he missed, and the templars that had pushed him out. Fenris listened and then told him about the fog warriors. That one story had opened Anders’ eyes more than the past year spent in his company.

When the group had found their way from the Deep Roads, Anders had been happy that Fenris had made it through alive. He had continued to watch Fenris as quietly and as unobtrusively as possible. Their friends, as kind as they could be, were horrible teases. Anders couldn’t see the teasing improving his relationship with Fenris, so he had kept his mind on his work and his glances brief.

He had assumed that that was where their relationship would end. Justice wasn’t fond of physical affection or the pull of softer love. He had given Anders the strength to stay away.

But Justice was gone, and Fenris had reached across what Anders had long seen as an insurmountable chasm to help him. He didn’t know what to do. With the loss of his hearing came a sudden world of quiet. It was similar to the quiet of solitary - a haze of empty filled with drips and creaks, but no voices. With Justice gone, he felt alone. Fenris’ friendship was all that stood between him and world of nothing.

He could feel Fenris’ presence behind him while they walked. It was solid feeling, familiar and comforting. Darktown was a low pressure against his ears. A not-sound that seemed to resonate from the lower ceilings and crowded rooms. The more crowded the room, the greater the pressure. It was uncomfortable, though, and had him walking faster.

They were three-quarters of the way to his clinic when they ran into the ruffians. They had just finished shaking down a man and woman for what appeared to be a few coins. Anders came a stop and Fenris nimbly stepped around him.

The apparent leader sneered something at Fenris, who responded by lighting his markings. The lyrium flared a brilliant blue-white and Anders’ world exploded with sound. He could hear Fenris’ sword as he pulled it from his sheath, the scream of the ruffian, the wet squelch as Fenris’ blade met the man’s side, the pained grunt, the bones in his ribs cracking, and then his body hitting the floor. The other two ruffians didn’t say a word. They dropped their weapons, turned, and fled. Fenris panted, his breathing loud in the silence after the battle.

“Anders?” Fenris turned to look at him. Fenris’ markings died down, and with them so did the sounds.

Anders shook his head and tried to focus on the couple cowering away from Fenris. He took a step towards them and held out his hands. The woman’s lips formed words and Anders looked to Fenris.

“Hurt.” Fenris signed.

Anders took another step forward before patting his chest and signing, “Help. Heal.”

Fenris translated for him. The man’s lips moved as he spoke. Anders couldn’t catch the words, so he focused on the woman instead. She stepped towards him and took one of his outstretched hands. Anders closed his eyes and focused.

She had some bruises along her back and her hip had been injured. A thin cut along one arm. A few bruises on her other. He focused, his magic reaching out to surround her. When he opened his eyes, he was met with a wide smile and tears on her face. She squeezed his hand and then patted the man next to her. He glanced at Anders, hesitated, and then reached out as well.

Anders found cuts on his arms, a broken rib, bruising. He healed everything before releasing the man’s hand. The man glanced at Fenris and then slowly, with exaggerated care, mouthed the words “Thank you.”

Anders nodded his head and stepped back. The man grabbed his arm and Anders froze. The man dropped his arm, but removed a pouch from his belt. He held it out to Anders, who shook his head and held up his hands. The man turned to Fenris and held out the pouch. Anders shook his head at Fenris, but was ignored.

The man and woman both mouthed the words “thank you” again and then set off into Darktown. Anders watched them go and then turned to Fenris. He slumped a little and sighed. Fenris frowned and reached for Anders, but Anders shrugged him off to continue on towards his clinic.

He waited for them to be in the clinic before he turned to Fenris. His mind picked at what had happened. The sudden flare of Fenris’ lyrium, the explosion of sound, the return to silence. Hearing not with his ears but with his magic, Anders decided. A direct conduit that bypassed the damage inflicted when Justice had been pulled from him.

The urge to grab at Fenris was strong - to beg him to activate his brands so that he could hear. A whisper of a name, Danarius, crawled through his memory. Anders had a chance here - be like the grasping mages Fenris remembered, or let this be on Fenris’ terms.

Fenris searched Anders’ face. He looked worn through and conflicted. He hadn’t done anything during the fight, though he had healed the man and woman. Fenris couldn’t, quite, shake the look of despair that had crossed Anders’ face when the fight had ended.

He reached out now and touched Anders’ arm. Anders met his gaze. Something glimmered there in his eyes, emotions Fenris couldn’t understand. Anders lifted his hand to take Fenris’. His fingers smoothed over the brands, his touch making them tingle.

Anders dropped his hand and went to his desk - the old wooden monstrosity pushed against the far wall and groaning under the weight of books and paper. He took one of those pages and grabbed his pen, uncapped his inkwell, and dipped it quickly to write. When he was done, he seemed to hesitate before handing the paper to Fenris.

“When you light your markings, I can hear.”

Fenris nearly dropped the paper in shock. Then he stared Anders, his gaze narrowing. Anders held up his hands and nodded at the paper. Fenris looked down and kept reading.

“Keep teaching me sign. For work in clinic.”

Fenris rubbed the paper between his fingers. In front of him, Anders fairly vibrated with nerves. Fenris swallowed, a giddy feeling working its way up from his belly. How fast he had been to go straight to anger, how typical of Anders to already have worked out a response.

Fenris looked back up as he lit his brands. Anders’ eyes widened in shock as sound flowed into him.

“You are a fool mage. You consort with spirits. Your goals could lead to another Tevinter. But you are a good man.”

Anders snorted. He touched Fenris’ arm and shook his head.

“Stop. Not need. Sign. Good.”

“You would give up your hearing? You could guilt me into doing this night and day for you.”

“You. Hurt. No. Wrong.” Anders signed, his lips pursed.

“You will be able to continue helping Hawke. We should learn to work together.”

Anders nodded and slumped. He pulled at Fenris’ arm.

“Stop tugging. I’m fine, Anders.”

Anders crossed his arms and glared.

“You would be deaf again if I stopped. Is that not...does that not…”

Anders sighed and nodded. His fingers flew as he signed back.

“Silence. Scared. Hurt. You. Hurt. Wrong.”

Anders’ eyes filled with tears as he touched his ears and then the center of his chest. Sorrow filled him. He missed Justice. He knew none of his friends, least of all Fenris, would understand. But Justice would have agreed with Anders. There was no justice in using Fenris to hear. He had lost his hearing in a fight. It could have happened to anyone. He needed to learn to live, not use Fenris.

Ringing silence covered him as Fenris let his markings die down. Strong hands pulled him against an armored chest, maneuvered him to press his face against Fenris’ neck. He sobbed against Fenris, the loss making every inch of him burn. Fenris held him through the storm of tears.

***

Six weeks. Anders marked the date in his journal, noted how he felt and how his voice and hearing were doing. He could talk for short bursts. As he couldn’t hear himself and seemed futile, except Fenris was teaching him to talk with his signs. He felt self-conscious, but pushed through it since the act of speaking helped him to remember more signs. He now knew all the ones for colors, for temperature, for weather, for chores, and to express a wide range of emotions. The more he spoke, the faster he memorized the signs.

As his vocabulary grew, so did his desire to return to healing. Fenris patiently went with him every day to the clinic. Fenris helped him talk to patients and explain treatments. He stood guard against ruffians, bandits, and Templars. And Anders healed, that hadn’t changed. He couldn’t hear his patients, but he could sense the wounds, feel the problems, and bandage or use magic to help.

The act of healing others helped. Every spell cast, every bandage used, every potion handed out helped Anders feel needed. Wanted. Important. The citizens of Darktown rallied behind him and began to talk to Fenris. Word spread - when seeing the healer, see the elf first.

As busy as he had been, he hadn’t had a chance to really go out with Hawke. He had avoided the Hanged Man - too many people, too much confusion. The one time he had stepped into the establishment had been enough. The noise of the bar had made his ears throb painfully. He had taken three steps in, turned to look at Fenris, and had shaken his head.

Instead, their friends came to them. Varric brought the builders by and stayed to talk. Hawke visited frequently to check in on them both. Merrill came by with tea and treats. Isabela would pop in for quick hugs and head ruffles. Aveline would come by to check on the mansion and ask if Anders felt safe.

What humbled Anders was that all of them were working to learn sign. It was becoming habit to play a round of cards and have the bets spoken and signed. Or for Hawke to sign as he talked to Fenris. The first time Isabela ruffled his hair and then stood in front of him to sign “hi handsome” he had cried.

Hawke was over now and signing as he spoke. “Danger. Blood mage. Find. Help.” His gaze cut to Anders’ as he signed the last word. “You. Help?”

“Me?” Anders looked up at Fenris. He cleared his throat. “Why?” he signed and asked.

Hawke grumbled a little as his fingers worked to find the sign he wanted. “Help. Children.”

Anders looked up at Fenris. He wrapped his hands around his own neck and then around each of his wrists. Anders’ lips thinned. Slavers. He looked back to Hawke and nodded. “Help. Yes.” He signed the words while nodding.

“Tent. Sleep. Night.” Hawke signed while he kept talking to Fenris. “Tomorrow. Morning. Leave.”

Anders nodded and smiled. Tomorrow. And they would camp. He hadn’t been on a job since his injuries, and he was anxious to see if he could handle the rigors of traveling, the fights, and then camping. He had been training with Fenris to not freak out when his hearing returned but...he wouldn’t know for sure until he was fighting if it would work or not.

Anders watched Hawke pat Fenris arm and leave. The minute Fenris turned around, Anders was signing.

“Excited. Fight. Help.”

Fenris nodded. “Brave. Proud. You.”

Anders flushed at the praise. He reached behind him for his staff and drew it from his back harness with a flourish. Fenris shook his head as Anders mock-battled the imaginary enemies. Fenris waited for him to finish before tapping his staff. When Anders met his gaze, he tapped his markings. Anders grimaced but nodded and tapped his staff to the ground in agreement.

They hadn’t told anybody about Fenris’ markings and Anders’ hearing. Fenris was relieved to see that Anders was ready to deal with the use of the markings while in combat around their friends. Fenris would have found a way to handle the fight without them, but now he could fight unimpeded.

Anders’ hands caught his attention. “Pack. You. Food. Me. Bed.”

Fenris nodded and Anders re-sheathed his staff before heading for the stairs. Fenris could only hope that tomorrow went smoothly. He wanted the group to see how capable Anders was, and tomorrow was the perfect time for that to happen.

***

It felt strange to walk the paths of the Wounded Coast. Before, Anders would join in conversations or listen to the waves crash against the rocks. He would stop and pick herbs, using the sound of his friends to tell him when they were getting too far away. Even the scrape of boots on gravel or the sound of the wind were constant.

Now he felt the wind, but heard nothing. There was a low drone of noise in his ears and the pop and crackle that he’d come to expect. He relied on Fenris to let him know when he needed to stop harvesting herbs to catch up to the group. Instead of laughing with the group, he signed to Fenris.

Anders noticed little things as they walked: how the air smelled, intense and pungent with salt and elfroot flowers; the taste of the breeze, fresh and cool on his lips, salty and a little smokey on his tongue. He couldn’t hear the gravel and stones under feet, but he could feel the fine particles of sand that the wind picked up.

When they turned further inland and began to climb a high path, the smells turned more earthy. Underneath it hovered burnt wood, an acrid tang of char and the rich smell of meat that had been roasted. He reached out and pinched Fenris’ arm.

“Fire. Food. Old. Near.”

His fingers moved rapidly. Fenris nodded. Anders watched him purse his lips, obviously whistling for the group. He spoke, his hands moving in sign as he explained to the group what Anders had sensed.

Hawke shot him a wide smile and unsheathed his sword. Varric nudged his hip and grinned as he pulled Bianca free. Anders loosened his staff and glanced at Fenris, who was gripping his sword. Fenris nodded. The group turned and headed at a slower pace up the trail.

The trail turned and ended at a cave. Two men sat at the cave entrance. Both were obviously bored and not expecting a group to show. Hawke took advantage of the surprise to charge forward. Fenris flared his brands at the same time that Varric fired a shot. The world burst into sound.

Anders focused on the cadence of his magic - the hiss of fire, the crackle of ice, the hot sizzle of electricity. He listened for gasps from his companions and the stuttering tempo that meant an injury. Fenris’ sword cleaved through the men pouring from the cave. The wet bite of metal into soft skin, the spray of blood on sand, and the cries of pain all blended with the ripe smells of death and fire.

Standing near the mouth of the cave was a blood mage. They held a child by the hair, a knife to the throat. Anders saw the child struggle and knew he had mere moments to act. He gestured, the bolt of lightning hitting just over the child’s shoulder and slamming into the blood mage with a deep hiss.

The blood mage seized. Hawke reached out and grabbed the child, wrenching them away from the mage. Anders gestured again and this time cold hit the blood mage. Fenris stepped close, swung his sword, and took the mage across his torso.

The mage fell and with him the sounds of battle. Anders panted as he leaned against his staff. The child went limp in Hawke’s hand. Anders sighed, straightened, and headed over to check on the child.

Fifteen people were rescued from the slavers, including the child. After they ate, Anders set up a healing station. After he healed the first patient, it spread that Anders knew slave sign. These were slaves headed for Orlais and the fancy noble houses in the countryside. All of them were from Tevinter and all knew slave sign. Anders found himself with a bevy of people signing to him as he healed.

He answered questions in between treating wounds and disease. Most questions were about Kirkwall and the ability to find jobs. The rest were about him, how he knew the sign language, how he lost his hearing, and who Fenris was.

It was all overwhelming. He felt a part of something, something worthwhile. Fingers brushed against his shoulder and he looked up to see Fenris smiling at him. He watched as Fenris signed to him, the words making him blush.

“Proud. Good. Tired? Sleep?”

Anders nodded and ducked his head, his smile sheepish.

Fenris called out to Hawke. “Anders is tired. He’s been healing since the fight ended.”

“You two go on. Want second or third watch?” Hawke waved at Anders as he spoke. He switched to look at Anders, his hands still clumsy while signing.

“Good. Fight. Happy. You. Rest.”

Anders went redder as the blush spread over his cheeks. He could feel his ears burning from all the praise.

“Third watch will work,” Fenris said.

“You two rest well, then.” Hawke said, signing to Anders to sleep well.

Anders signed back. “You. Sleep. Good.” Then he waved at Varric and headed to their tent.

Fenris’ hand brushed over his lower back as he ducked into the tent. Anders took a seat and watched as Fenris removed his armor and began stacking it. Anders turned as Fenris tidied and fussed with the blankets, making sure they were piled properly and ready for sleeping.

He had just finished with them when Fenris brushed a hand over his hair. Anders looked up and watched with wide eyes as Fenris slowly lowered himself to straddle Anders’ lap. Fenris stroked a hand over his cheek and then back to his ear. He caressed Anders’ ear and then gently urged him forward and down into a chaste kiss.

Even though it was little more than a brush of lips, Anders felt warmth travel from his stomach up into his chest. He squirmed and finally wrapped his arms around Fenris, pulled him closer, and kissed him again.

Fenris chuckled against Anders lips, their breath mingling as they sat cuddled together. Fenris settled back and tapped his markings while tilting his head. Anders shook his in response and then signed.

“No. Talk. Sign. You. Kiss. Me.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Fenris brushed his fingers over Anders’ lower lips. “Want.” Fenris’ signed the word while speaking it.

“Want. You. Kiss. Friend. Lover?” Fenris’ cheeks heated on the last word.

“Lovers?” Anders pressed his hand against his chest and then pointed at Fenris.

“Yes.” Fenris huffed as he tried to think of how to explain it. “Happy. Important. You. Me.”

Anders smiled. “Yes.”

Fenris touched his chest and then Anders’. He then touched Anders’ lips. “Important. Not. Damaged.”

Anders frowned as he thought. He tapped his chest and then frowned while shaking his fist, their sign for Justice. “You. Hate. Justice. Gone. Like. Now.”

Fenris sighed. “Wrong. Scared. Justice. You. Better. Now. Sorry.”

Anders huffed at that. Fenris was sorry he had been afraid of Justice. The question was, was Anders willing to give him a chance at being more than just a friend.

Because he had been a friend. A good one. Helping him and encouraging him. Standing with him and supporting him. Anders didn’t wake up alone or afraid. He didn’t fear while working in his clinic. He could fight at Hawke’s side.

Fenris was waiting patiently as Anders thought. His face, so familiar now that it meant home, was a mirror of hopeful calm. Anders sighed at that face - at the calmness that Fenris seemed to manage around him.

“Forgive. Kiss?”

Fenris chuckled and leaned forward and up, pressing another kiss to Anders’ lips.

“Silly. Mage.” Fenris signed. “Demanding.”

Anders laughed roughly and kissed Fenris again. They tumbled onto the blankets, curled up face to face, and talked until Anders fell asleep.

***

“Drink. Water. No. Run.” Anders signed at the young man sitting on one of the cots. “Rest. Eat. No. Fight. No. Alcohol.” Fenris translated and both of them laughed when the young man grimaced.

“Aww Healer, but that ain’t no fun at all!” The young man’s voice whined to Fenris. “Tell ‘em. Was just one little knife wound.”

Anders snorted as Fenris signed the words. “Fool.” He signed back.

“What he means is, you were stabbed in the stomach twice. Perhaps you should take his advice.” Fenris stared at the young man, who grumbled but nodded.

“Fine. But I ain’t happy.”

The young man still left a few silver on the cot before he left. Fenris scooped it up and added it to the donation jar. Anders rolled his eyes at Fenris and set about cleaning up the bloody towels. Fenris watched him with a fond smile.

A jangle at the door had Fenris looking up and his hand falling on Anders’ shoulder. Anders stood up and both relaxed when they saw Hawke.

“So. Up for an adventure you two?” Hawke signed while he spoke.

Anders turned to look at Fenris and cocked an eyebrow. The clinic was empty of truly injured and Anders knew Fenris was getting bored.

Fenris shot Anders a quick grin. “Yeah Hawke, we are.”

“Excellent. So...the Bone Pit…” Hawke said, signing the words for Bone Pit.

Anders and Fenris both groaned, but still went to get their weapons. Anders glanced at Fenris as he strapped his staff to his back. He patted one of his ears, nodded to Hawke, and then rocked one hand back and forth.

Fenris shrugged, wiggled his hands in front of his mouth, and then signed “burned.”

Anders burst out into laughter.

“Come on you two, you know we can’t follow how fast you both sign. What did he say?” Hawke’s whining was loud and petulant.

“He wondered what else he’ll lose while out with you. Maybe an actual ear. And I said doubtful. We’d probably find a dragon.”

Hawke looked shocked and aghast at Fenris and Anders before all of the words caught up with him. Then his eyes widened.

“Do you really think so?”

Anders sighed and signed back. “Only. You.”

Fenris laughed while Hawke sputtered. Anders grinned, slid his hand into Fenris’, and set off on another adventure on the Wounded Coast.