DA2 Fic - Children and Animals

[miri1984]

Title: Children and Animals
Words: 1600
Characters: Anders, Saoirse
Rating: T
Summary: Anders is awesome. As if you didn't already know.

This was written in response to a prompt from SurelyForth on DevArt, who wanted a story about Anders being awesome and doctor-ish with kids. 
 

When she got to the clinic he was busy - as usual. There were groans and coughs from the many patients littered on the rough cots scattered around and Anders was talking earnestly with a haggard young woman who was holding a boy in her arms. The boy was shaking; she could hear muffled sobs and even from the door she could see his arm, hanging limp away from his body, had been very badly burnt.

"Bring him over here," Anders said in his soft voice. He hadn't noticed Saoirse enter and she scanned the room quickly, looking to see if there were any cases she could deal with. When she couldn't find anyone who was in immediate need of her help she turned back to Anders, who had managed to get the boy to sit up on one of the taller wooden benches.

"And how old are you, Serah?" Anders said.

"Mam says I've got ten summers, Messere Anders," he said, hiccuping a few times as he tried to repress the tears that filled his eyes and threatened to spill.

"Really? I would have thought you were at least twelve," Anders said, his full lips twitching in a small smile as his fingers felt along the sleeve of his ruined shirt, so gently and deftly that the child did nothing more than wince. "You're so tall."

The boy bit his lip, obviously pleased at the implication that he was bigger and stronger. Saoirse would have pegged him at eight at the most, but she was used to the children of Lothering, who were all well nourished and cared for, not the pathetic wretches who combed the Kirkwall sewers. Lothering folk may have been common to the core, but they were proud farmers, and they looked after their children. No one from her town would have allowed him to get into this state.

She shuddered, suddenly, wondering where this boy had come from, whether he'd been on the same ship as she and her family, but less fortunate in his living arrangements. He could even have come from Lothering - could have been one of those happy, well fed children she vaguely remembered roaming the fields. He didn't look familiar, but no children she knew ever had circles that dark under their eyes, or arms so pathetically stick thin.

The burn was horrific. Saoirse couldn't believe that the child was so calm. She knew from experience how much they hurt. She wondered if the boy was simply so used to pain that it wasn't a big deal, or was so tired and hungry that his energy couldn't be spared for crying.

Anders simply glanced at the mangled flesh and then back into the eyes of the boy, tucking an errant strand of hair behind an ear and giving him a wink. "I bet you can run faster than everyone, too. Am I right?" His hands were busy and she could feel him touching the fade, the slight taste of rich sweetness in her mouth telling her he was pulling a lot of power - enough that she could feel it even though she was a good ten feet from where he knelt….

"Da used to say I was a whippet," the boy said, breath still coming in little hitching sobs, but smiling a little now.

"Whippet? Those are the little racing dogs, aren't they?" Anders' grin widened and she felt his spells (there were three of them, holy maker, at once!) release. One of his hands, on the arm of the boy, glowed blue and green as he let healing and grease spread out at once, gently tugging the ruined cloth away from the even more ruined skin and letting it begin to knit together.

His other hand - the one that had been tucking the child's hair a moment before, was held palm upwards in front of the boy's eyes and she gasped in as much awe as the boy as she saw what took shape in it.

A tiny dog, running, made entirely from lightning.

The boy's eyes went so wide with wonder she could practically see the lightning creature reflected in their brown depths. "Oh! Messere Anders!"

She breathed out slowly, watching as the boy's arm became whole, even as the tiny dog ran around Anders' hand and eventually jumped to the boy's shoulder, making his grubby hair stand up with static. The boy was outright grinning now as the creature rolled on its imaginary back and waved paws in the air and as the final tendrils of healing magic finished their work the tiny dog sat on its haunches next to the boy on the table top, tongue lolling, tail thumping, looking for all the world like a puppy waiting for a kind word from its master.

Anders was pale and she could see beads of sweat on his upper lip, but his mouth was still curved in a smile as he smoothed the boys hair back down.

"There you are. All fixed!" he said brightly. "Spot here had fun playing with you too, didn't you Spot?" the creature lifted its front legs and yapped silently, tail wagging even more furiously before fading. Saoirse let out a small sigh of regret at its absence.

The boy's mother, who had been hovering anxiously nearby the whole time, came up then and tried to press something into Anders' hand but he shook his head vigorously and stepped back. She tried half-heartedly again, but Anders was firm and instead she muttered something under her breath and started to lead the boy out. The child was babbling and nodding, all fear and pain forgotten in the wonder of what he'd seen.

She considered, for a moment, simply stepping back out of the clinic - she didn't truly need him, she reasoned, they were going to rescue a Templar after all and she knew they weren't his favourite people. But she also knew that there may be blood magic involved and she… just had no experience of it outside of Merrill and she got the impression that Merrill's idea of blood magic was ever so slightly different to whatever was behind the clusterfuck they'd found at Wilmod's camp.

She still couldn't believe she'd managed to get out of that one with her freedom intact. Varric had shoved her out of the way when the demons had started attacking and she'd had to play that she'd been knocked out in the initial attack. Fenris and Carver and Isabela had easily stepped in to finish the demons off with her bolstering them as subtly as possible from the sidelines but it had taken a lot of willpower not to land a few fireballs in the middle of the fight, even with the Knight Captain of Sodding Kirkwall fighting right there in front of her.

Saoirse will you never learn caution…

She blinked. Her father's voice was still so clear in her mind sometimes.

Anders had seen her and was walking towards her with a smile on her face. She attempted to arrange her face into something resembling a normal expression and leaned casually against the doorframe.

"And that's why I don't do anything with children or animals," she said, smiling softly. "I'd be so hideously outclassed."

The smile reached his eyes this time. She felt heat rise to her cheeks at how much a simple smile could transform his face.

It was a face made for smiling, she decided.

"Trick I learned in the tower," he said. "Very useful for when you have to tutor five year olds. They have very short attention spans."

"You actually taught in the tower?"

His smile turned wry. "Of course. We were all required to once we passed our harrowings. Lots of mages. Lots to learn. And it needed to be a fairly high child to mage ratio - can you imagine having to deal with more than ten kids who can fireball things at once?" he winked at her. "How did your father manage?"

She grinned then. "Well, by the time Bethany showed signs I was already twelve," she said. "I helped," she sighed. "And Beth was always the good child. Never got in trouble the way I did. Or Carver for that matter."

The smile faded. He was obviously blaming himself for making her bring up Bethany and she kicked herself. Sometimes it just… it was too easy to think she was still alive.

"Was there something you needed?" he asked, his voice kind.

No…. she was on the verge of saying it. He was needed here. Taking him away from it would… but as she opened her mouth he raised a shaking hand to push the sweaty strands of his hair away from his face and she remembered he'd just performed some of the most complex magic she'd ever seen and he had refused payment and he was…so very skinny under that motley collection of feathers leather and buckles he called robes…

He would never accept charity from her. She had tried to give him coin but he'd waved it away. The best she could manage was a few meals at the Hanged man, the occasional basket sent down to the clinic with spare ingredients or potions they'd collected on their outings. But if he went with her he would accept a share of the loot they found and if she sometimes over estimated the amount he was due when it came time to tally up at the end no one else said anything and these people… these people would be the ones to benefit.

"We've got a job… to rescue a templar recruit from a group of blood mages. I could use your help and expertise."

He cocked an eyebrow at "templar" but it lowered again at "blood mages" and arranged itself into a frown.

"You shouldn't be messing around with blood mages, Hawke," he said.

"You can help us, though, right? I mean…"

He sighed. "Of course. Let me get my staff."

Maker damn you, Anders. You're going to help yourself no matter what.