This will be a collection of short stand-alone bits that involve the characters from my longer fic Leap (www. fanfiction. net/ s/ 6856002). Not in any particular order.

Anders hated her from the moment they met. After all he had lost in the last twenty years, everything the Chantry and the Circle and the whole damned system had stolen from him… she seemed completely oblivious. She had managed to get out… not only that, she had managed to find her family again. And how did she react? By bickering with her brother and rolling her eyes about their overprotective mother.

Malina Hawke seemed to have no idea about how lucky she really was. And it drove him mad.

"We need your maps," she had said.

He waffled, not liking the idea of sending anyone into the Deep Roads. It was idiocy. They weren't Wardens, she would be lucky if a single member of their trip survived. She must have noticed that he wasn't particularly keen on the idea. Unfortunately for her, she wasn't very good at being scary. Her attempts at intimidation were about as horrifying as a really angry kitten. Less, maybe.

"Don't threaten me, little girl!" he had snapped, hiding how amused he was to see her jump. Really, she was intimidated by a half-starved apostate living in a sewer and thought the Deep Roads were good plan?

She didn't give up, though. As he tried to ignore her, moving from patient to patient, she tagged along. "I know why you won't give it to us," she had said. "It doesn't matter. We're going either way. If you help it could save lives!"

The part of his mind that wasn't quite entirely him had pushed back, hearing that. After all, what did it cost him to help her? "Fine," he gave in with a sigh, too tired and hungry to argue. "Maybe we can work something out."

He had given her the maps at the Chantry door, not knowing what might wait for them on the other side. She thanked him and handed them off to her brother without a glance. For all she knew it was a folded sheet of blank paper. It wasn't, of course: Anders was a man who kept his bargains- even when he didn't want to these days. But she had no way of knowing about his newly upgraded conscience. Trusting idiot, he thought to himself.

Nothing happened like he had hoped. Even his most horrible worries up until that point didn't come close to what they faced inside. The templars, the setup, and Karl… he had been prepared for something bad, but nothing like that. It still made his chest ache to remember the horrifying monotone his voice had acquired, the voice that once laughed and whispered in his ear was gone. The spark in his eyes dulled.

It had been too much for him. Whatever remained of Justice had never been particularly good with dealing with Anders' emotions; it couldn't handle the full brunt of his anger and heartbreak. He lost control.

There had been blood on his hands when they left the Chantry. Templar blood, which meant nothing to him, and Karl's blood, which meant everything.

And with that the Chantry managed to take one more thing away, just when he thought there was nothing left to steal.

When she stopped him on the Chantry steps Anders braced himself for the worst. She had been whispering with her brother until that point, voices too low to catch anything but the tone; his voice an annoyed hiss, hers soft and reassuring. Anders watched her hands move as she talked, patting the young man on the arm. "Not now," she finally said before turning her attention to Anders. He readied his arguments that he wasn't really an abomination, his assurances that this was an unusual occurrence. "I'm so sorry about your friend," was what came out when she spoke. "Are you all right?"

He realized her brother had been arguing to confront him, she had known it wasn't the time. And he softened… slightly. "Yes… well… no, not really. I'd just like to go home." She didn't argue and he was filled with relief. Malina probably wanted to forget about him as much as he wanted to forget this entire day. Anders didn't expect to see her again, even if she did survive her ridiculous suicide mission.

To his surprise she appeared in his clinic a few days later, chainmail on her skirt clinking as she made her way across the room. Holding out a basket like an offering, Malina smiled. "I'm… not great with first impressions," she admitted. "Much better at cooking." Anders looked at her and she blushed. He realized with a shock that she was actually… very pretty. And while he was trying to figure out where that came from since he hadn't looked at a woman as anything other than a patient in more than two years and she wouldn't have been his type even before, Malina began to push him to the small table at the back of the clinic and into a chair. Part of his mind flared up in anger at being, quite literally, shoved around. The rational part, the part he knew was still him, understood and suppressed the rage.

As they ate she filled the silence with chatter. Mostly bad jokes… not unlike the jokes he used to make, to be completely honest. He complimented her cooking, since it was good and he literally couldn't remember the last time someone had cooked for him without it being thanks for saving their spouse or child, and she shrugged, only saying her mother was better. When a patient came in she ordered him to keep eating and took care of them herself. He watched carefully, not trusting her, but it turned out she was a competent healer.

Which was fortunate since, for some reason, he couldn't seem to get rid of her.

Anders found himself pulled from one end of Kirkwall to the other, and beyond. Whenever she would hear gossip about a mage in trouble he was the first one she ran to, enlisting his aid. He could respect that: even if she didn't seem to appreciate her own good fortune, she was at least willing to help others of their kind whenever possible.

She rarely spoke of her life before Kirkwall, and certainly not to him. She would usually just ramble to him, talking about current events or the bizarre circle of friends she had collected, before blushing and running off. He got the impression she was slightly afraid of him. He never did explain what happened in the Chantry, and she never pressed, so he couldn't blame her for that.

Even so, tiny bits of information about her past would occasionally sneak out. From an absentminded comment her brother made to Varric, Anders learned that she hadn't escaped from the Circle- she had never been there to begin with. Hearing that, Anders felt his resentment flair again, jealous over her good fortune. Realizing she could hardly be blamed for that it faded quickly, taking some of his initial annoyance with it. She didn't know how lucky she was since she had never seen the alternative.

From a quiet overheard discussion Malina had one night with Merrill as they camped he realized there had once been three Hawke siblings, although what happened to the third he didn't know. Seeing how the elf put a comforting hand on her back, the muffled sound of her sniffles drifting to his place across the fire, made Anders realize Malina's life probably wasn't as charmed as he had initially thought.

Even when he didn't find himself being pulled across the Free Marches on one of her adventures she would occasionally turn up at his clinic anyways, pitching in to help. "Made too much for dinner last night," was her favorite excuse. Anders figured she just knew he didn't have the money for food. Although since she was living in Lowtown with her uncle he suspected the Hawke family wasn't much better off.

When it came time for her trip to the Deep Roads she nervously asked him if he would join them, hoping his Warden abilities would give them a better chance to stay safe. "No threats this time?" he asked with a laugh.

"No," she said. "I'm asking as a friend."

Anders wasn't sure who was more surprised when he agreed- her or him.

It had been a long time since someone had called him a friend.

He made quiet conversation with her when she was on watch. He hadn't needed as much sleep since becoming a Warden, and with Justice constantly bolstering him as well Anders now found he needed even less. Fortunate, since sleeping in the Deep Roads ranked very high among his least favorite activities.

The seemingly-innocent question about how she learned her spells led to him discovering that not only was her third sibling, a twin sister to the ever-present, ever-obnoxious Carver, a mage, but their father as well. That, in turn, led to the story of her sister's death.

Knowing he would regret it, Anders then asked about her father. As she spoke he decided there was a place in her mind occupied by a very high pedestal, and on top of it was the glowing image of Malcolm Hawke, the farmer-apostate who was unconventional enough to marry a noblewoman and name his firstborn daughter after himself. Anders was afraid to ask what happened to him. She didn't say, only staring into the darkness, an unfamiliar expression of anger on her face.

The return trip was a nightmare. While Varric fumed over his brother betraying them, Malina tried to take care of hers, as Carver slipped deeper into the throes of blight sickness. He was surprised to see their bickering disappear, revealing genuine love underneath. Anders was, to the best of his knowledge, an only child. He had no idea what was normal for siblings. Maybe that was it.

He felt a stab of guilt every time he looked at her, wiping his brow or quietly singing him songs from their childhood. He had known this would happen. He had known. She brought him so they would be safer, and he hadn't managed to help. Although part of him raged at the idea, still chafing from their betrayal, Anders couldn't stop himself from telling her about the Grey Wardens nearby. The overjoyed expression on her face when she realized there was a chance to save Carver made it almost worth dealing with the fury of Justice.

The first night after Carver had left with the Wardens Anders glanced over at Malina. She was brooding quietly, watching lava flow through a nearby channel. With a start, he realized whatever resentment or anger he had felt was long gone. The woman who annoyed him so much wasn't real, it was just her mask. He felt strangely like he had taken something from her to see her without it; he had stolen a tiny bit of her privacy and wanted to give something in return.

"You never asked me about what happened in the Chantry," he said quietly after moving to sit at her side.

"I didn't want to pry," came the response. "I was curious but… if you wanted me to know I figured you'd tell me."

So he told her.

He couldn't have been more shocked when the only response was "is there anything I can do to help you?"

"No," he said. "I'm not sure I want help, to be honest. But… you're the only person I've ever told. So, thank you."

"Thank you?"

She looked over at him in confusion. Anders struggled to figure out why he found her so damned pretty. She looked delicate and fragile and doe-eyed… everything he didn't look for in a partner. He had always liked bold, fast, strong-willed women with wicked smiles, women like, well… women like the kind of man he used to be. Come to think of it, his male partners weren't much different. Maker, Anders, were you that self-absorbed? he thought to himself, almost laughing at the realization that most of his lovers had basically been… him.

"For not running away?" he said. "Not screaming, or calling me a monster."

She smiled then, and briefly squeezed his hand. When Malina blushed his stomach flipped. "You're no monster, Anders." He suddenly remembered who did like delicate, fragile women with big sad eyes… if Aura was any indication.

Your doing, friend? He asked the spirit silently. There was no answer, of course. Justice was gone. Justice was him. They would have no other conversations. If it was some bit of Kristoff, whose body once hosted Justice, carried over on the spirit, well… it was now just another part of himself. And knowing that didn't make him want her any less.

Besides, she wasn't really fragile or delicate. She was as brutal in a fight as anyone he'd ever known. Easily on par with any of his friends from the Circle, she might have even given Velanna, the only other Warden mage he'd known, a run for her money.

They sat in silence, looking out across the deep roads. From nearby Anders could hear Varric softly protest something in his sleep.

"You should get some rest," Anders finally said, noticing the dark circles under her eyes.

She shook her head. "I don't think I can. I tried, and all I could think of was Carver." Glancing up at him nervously Malina asked "will… he be all right?"

"I don't know," Anders said, not having it in him to lie. It was her brother, she wanted the truth, not some meaningless comforting words. "I hope so. I suspect he will… but there's no real way to know."

She sighed. "I guess we wait and see. They'll let him write, won't they? If he…"

"They will," Anders confirmed.

She gave him a goofy smile, the mask slowly clicking back into place. "Oh good, I love waiting. Nothing like waiting to take your mind off things." She pulled her legs up, wrapping arms around them and tucking her chin into her knees. They were silent for a long time. Eventually she spoke again. "You never asked me what happened to my father. I could tell you wanted to."

He shrugged. "You seem to value your privacy."

"That's an awfully nice way to say I'm secretive," she deadpanned. "Strange, people keep telling me that…"

"I'm sure you have your reasons," was all he replied. A nice neutral response. Nothing to make her think he agreed, although he did agree.

"I do," she said. "But they don't really apply to you."

Anders gave her a curious glance. Malina raised one hand, drawing on a connection to the fade. Anders could feel magic working through her. He was sitting too close to her. He was sitting too close and he had to move. He had to move because as her spell formed it felt like the fade calling out to him, singing, beckoning him closer, and closer was the last thing either of them needed. Light surrounded her fingertips and it took all his restraint not to mirror her gesture. "This," she said. "With you I don't have to worry. Not about being turned in to the templars, not about being feared, or looked at like I'm some kind of monster, nothing. I've had to worry all my life. It's nice to get a break."

The spell dissipated and with it Anders let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

"So," she said after a moment. "You can see why I probably don't need to be as secretive around you. You're one of the only people I know that's safe."

Safe. Anders could almost laugh at that.

"What did happen to your father?" he finally asked after another, less uncomfortable, silence.

"He died," she said. "Well, he was killed, to be more specific." For some reason he hadn't expected that, although knowing it, his absence finally made sense. Anders could feel his mouth forming the word, asking her how, but she waved him off. "How do you think, Anders? The same way I'll probably die. The same way you'll probably die. Take a guess."

Ah.

Guilt twisted within him when he realized how wrong his harsh first opinion had been. His own jealousy over her freedom had blinded him. The expression on her face made it quite clear she knew loss as well as anyone.

Looking at her, that anger once again cemented on Malina's face, Anders struggled to keep his own emotions in check. Part of him was already howling, raging at the indignity of a farmer, a father, a bloody village healer being cut down like a mad dog. Seeing him lose control wouldn't exactly be comforting, though, and he knew that was what she needed, even if the spirit within him didn't. She had given him this small part of herself, he had to make sure she knew he understood how important it was. "I'm sorry," Anders eventually managed. "He deserved better."

"Yes, he did," she said bitterly. "And so will I, and you. But that doesn't change things." Streaks were forming through the grime of the Deep Roads that covered her face. "I was the one who found him," she said quietly. Acting on instinct, Anders put an arm around her shoulder. He barely noticed when Malina leaned against him. Emotions nearing a fevered pitch, his control slipped briefly. Once the part of him that cared only for justice realized a man's own child could find him left for dead in the road, and it was not only legal but considered moral, there was no calming the spirit. Malina glanced up at him, dark eyes looking into two vacant blue windows to the Fade.

"Things will change," Anders said with confidence, still in control enough that his own voice came forward. "And you'll live to see it. I promise."