[Author's Note: This is my first fan fic ever... I'm a bit nervous! Please let me know what you think, and I'll add more chapters in the near future.]

"This key opens the cellars below the house here. You can get in from Darktown... if you ever need a quick escape."

Sarai watched Anders leave, hanging the key around his neck and tucking it under his clothes. Giving Anders the key was a simple act, but it meant so much, to both of them. Sarai hoped it would put her mind at ease. The nights when Anders insisted on staying in his clinic, she barely slept, tossing and turning in her bed for fear of what might happen. Templars were patrolling the undercity. There was no doubt the rumors of an apostate healer had reached Meredith's ears.

She sighed. In spite of the danger, still Anders returned to his clinic. Sarai knew how important it was to him to help the destitute, especially the Ferelden refugees. But she wished she could protect him better. At least he had the key now. Maybe it would be enough.

~—~

"Message for you, messere. From Ser Varric, I believe." Bodahn handed a slip of paper to Hawke where she sat by the fire, reading.

"Thank you, Bodahn." Sarai read the note carefully. If Varric thought something was important enough to pass along, Sarai paid attention.

Rumors about the Templars. Could be trouble. I passed a warning to Blondie, but you'd better keep an eye on things.

Her heart beat quickened. Anders was at his clinic. She glanced up at the clock—it was past midnight. It was too dangerous to wander the streets by herself at this time of night; an ambush could get her killed.

"Bodahn," she called to the dwarf, who had returned to the main hall. He quickly returned, appearing in the doorway.

"Yes, messere?"

"You haven't heard anything from Anders, have you? Or... anything down in the cellars?"

"No, messere. Is something the matter?"

"I hope not," she replied. After a few moment's silence, she said, "Do not concern yourself over it. It's late, no doubt you are eager for sleep."

"Don't you worry about old Bodahn, messere. I did plenty of sleeping in my younger days. Don't mind staying up now, if there's some help I can provide."

"No... no. I will call if I need anything."

"As you say, messere." Bodahn turned and left the room again.

Sarai paced the floor in front of the fireplace. She found herself remembering the day—so long ago now—when she had returned to Gamlen's house to find the Templars dragging away Bethany. Even now, the thought of her sister's face sent chills down her spine and filled her with dread. Not Anders. Please, Maker, not Anders.

Hardly thinking, Sarai left her room and made her way downstairs. She grabbed a candle from the main hall and continued down into the cellar, then down another flight of stairs to the lowest level. She stared at the trapdoor that led into Darktown, and found herself shaking.

"Come on, Anders. Come on," she whispered to the wooden planks. She considered throwing open the door, calling for him. But if the Templars were down there, she would give him away and perhaps get them both killed. So she set the candle down on a crate and waited anxiously.

~—~

Anders crumpled the note Varric had sent and threw it into a corner. Templars. Damned Templars. He didn't have much time. But there were people in the clinic, people who needed his help. A young girl was sleeping fitfully in one of the cots, recovering after he had chased a nasty illness out of her lungs.

"Is something wrong?" asked one of the Fereldens, a man who had helped out in the clinic before.

Anders forced himself to take a deep breath. Stay in control. "Templars. I believe they're going to raid the undercity."

"Again?"

"Again." That fire flickered inside of him, but Anders willed it down. "We need to get these people out of here."

"That girl, there, I don't think we can move her." The Ferelden looked around the clinic at the others, still waiting for healing.

"We're going to have to." Anders also looked at the others. "I'll do what I can, but we have only minutes to spare. Maybe less."

He summoned up his healing magic. It had grown stronger over the years he had spent in Kirkwall. Though he had never spoken of it, he knew that Sarai was the reason. Her presence at his side helped him to keep his control, steadied his magic. Now he summoned up his most powerful healing spell and cast it like a wave across the clinic. The patients straightened up, and the girl on the cot sat up and looked around in confusion.

Anders raised his voice and spoke. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but you must leave. It is not safe here, for any of us. Return tomorrow, or the next day, and I will try to help you." Anders lifted the girl from the cot and put her in the arms of her mother, who looked at Anders fearfully.

"Will she—?"

"She'll be all right. Try to help her rest, she needs to build back her strength." Quietly, Anders added, "I'm sorry."

The woman nodded briefly and filed out of the clinic with the others.

Anders grabbed his staff and hurried out of the clinic as well. The people were gradually disappearing into the shadows. He waited until they were all gone before walking quickly to the ladder, looking up at the trapdoor above him. Darktown was quiet.

The assassin appeared instantly, unseen and unheard. As he drove the dagger between Anders' ribs, he hissed, "The Knight-Commander sends her regards, apostate." He gave the blade a brutal twist. Then he pulled away and let the mage crumple to the ground at the foot of the ladder. He was gone as quickly has he came.

~—~