Chapter 66: Healing Process

I headed back out after a few more minutes of idle chatter, happy with how things were going with Anders. He wasn't quite as angry or bitter as he was in DA2, but he was different than he seemed in Awakenings, too, even though he'd just come from the dungeon. Not that I expected him to suddenly love templars and be a devout Andrastian, but it was nice that he wasn't too bitter.

When I thought about it, I was lucky with all of my companions. Shale had considerably mellowed towards me, Morrigan kept most of the nasty comments to herself, Aedan wasn't bitter at being conscripted, Alistair wasn't resentful about having lost Duncan or having to take the throne ... the level of bitterness was much, much better than it could have been. I was relieved.

I went looking for Wynne, finding her reading in a cabin of her own; when I knocked, she looked up expectantly and smiled.

"What can I do for you, dear?"

I was embarrassed, but clearly something had to be done about my ... girl issues. "Um, I need help with something." I was blushing, and she gave me a curious look.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm just embarrassed. My, uh, monthly came. Last night."

"And that has you embarrassed because... ?"

"Well, mine have always been sort of ... enthusiastic. I didn't know it was coming and it soaked through my clothes and blankets. Alistair saw. It was mortifying."

"I'm surprised this hasn't come up before now, then."

"My body at home was on medication that prevented them. I hadn't had a monthly in five years. They recently stopped the medication."

"Ah, that would make it awkward then."

"Yeah. So Morrigan gave me some potion to temporarily stop my bleeding, but she said I should talk to you about them being so heavy."

She shot me a sharp look. "Don't use those potions often, do you hear me?"

"I know, I know. They cause birth defects. Pregnancy isn't exactly something I'm concerned about at the moment."

She relaxed. "At least she told you. So you were hoping I could decrease your bleeding?"

"I would be forever grateful if you could."

"Let me just..." I felt her aura flare, and she directed some sort of magic at my belly.

"Is that some sort of ... diagnostic tool?"

She nodded as the magic winked out. "Ironically ... we should probably talk to Anders. As much as I don't approve of him, he was the finest spirit healer in the tower, by far."

"I can't talk about this to Anders!"

"Oh, youth." Her lips twitched, trying to suppress a laugh. "He's a healer. He won't be embarrassed."

"I will!"

"What about if I tell him? All you have to do is lay there."

"I..." Oh, who am I kidding, I'll go through a lot worse than that to have better periods. "Fine. But what exactly is it that's wrong with me?"

She looked surprised. "Well, your womb is ... I don't know how to explain it to someone who's not a healer. There's some unusual blood flow, and the lining gets too thick. Anders will be able to redirect the flow so that doesn't happen. It often takes a couple of attempts to fix it, just so you know. And it can be ... uncomfortable."

I nodded, not exactly thrilled, but willing if it meant I wouldn't have to deal with the same problem again.

"There's one other thing I want to talk to you about."

"Oh?" I looked at the healer, who had a suspiciously neutral expression on her face. "What's that?"

"Actually, it's more something to show you." She turned and lifted a brown leather tube off the small bedside table in her cabin. "Don't open it now. Open it later tonight. Before bed."

"A gift?" I raised my eyebrows in surprise.

"Of sorts. Now, scoot, young lady. Let's go find Anders."

I dropped the tube off in my cabin, tucking it inside my pack for safekeeping, then followed Wynne back to Anders' cabin. She pulled him aside and whispered into his ear for a few minutes. I was red-faced and horrified, and he smiled softly at me, trying to put me at ease.

"Can you lay down for a second? It shouldn't take long."

I nodded, and awkwardly crawled onto his bed. Wynne stayed, and I soon felt both auras flare, as the same evaluation scan Wynne had done to me before started. I closed my eyes and tried to pretend I wasn't there, imagining myself on a beach somewhere tropical, anything to keep my mind off the embarrassing problem I was having. At least there's no nakedness or stirrups or awkward physical examination involved. I purposefully didn't listen as they discussed what they were feeling, and then Wynne's aura faded. Anders' aura was similar to Wynne's but somehow deeper, or bigger; his flared higher and I felt warmth spread through my belly.

Suddenly the warmth became heat and then burning, and I gasped, biting my lip to keep from screaming. I felt like he was burning my insides with a laser, and the target slowly moved throughout my abdomen. The pain got worse and worse, and I finally couldn't help the cry that escaped, before eventually passing out. The blackness was a relief.

When I woke, it was much darker outside, if the lack of light streaming in through the window was any indication, and I had been moved. Disoriented, I looked around to realise I was on the bed in my own cabin. Sitting in a chair at my side was Anders, his expression anxious; across the room, leaning against the wall, was Alistair. Aedan sat on the bed at my side, holding my hand.

I struggled to sit up, and Anders sprang up to assist me. They told me I'd passed out, which I knew; drawn by my cry, Alistair and Aedan had come running, and they decided to bring me back to my own room to recover.

I could tell Alistair was furious at Anders; his mouth was pressed into a thin line, and his scowl could have melted plastic. Anders seemed amused by it, and I struggled not to laugh when his lips twitched every time Alistair sighed.

Anders asked my permission to examine me to ensure the healing was done, which I granted; I watched as he ran another diagnostic scan. He then asked Aedan and Alistair to leave. Aedan got up without a word, squeezed my hand, and left. Alistair's scowl deepened.

"Why should we have to leave?"

Anders sighed. "Look, some things are more ... sensitive, than others, to heal. This could be embarrassing for her. It's bad enough with a healer in the room; infinitely worse with someone else."

"Do I have to get naked or something?" I asked, suddenly nervous.

"No." He leaned over and whispered, softly enough that Alistair couldn't hear. "This time it won't be painful. It will probably be the opposite. It's not uncommon for, uh, reactions to happen." I raised my eyebrows, and he chuckled. "Don't worry. You'll like it, and I'll never tell."

I whispered back. "And now I know why you became a spirit healer." His laugh was infectious, and as embarrassed as I was, I couldn't help but join him. Alistair looked unamused and irritated, and it made me laugh harder.

"It's okay, Alistair. You can go." I gestured towards the door.

"I'm not leaving you alone with him."

I sighed, giggling mood gone. "You know what? Fine. Go ahead and watch."

I laid back again, gave Anders a decisive nod, and closed my eyes. I heard Alistair close the door to my cabin. I felt the usual magic aura, and then suddenly gasped as the warmth started flooding my belly again. This time, though, it didn't feel like a laser; it felt like hands, stroking with just the right pressure, moving down, and down further. And then I was overtaken by pleasure, body writhing as the warmth pooled in my core. I tried to fight it, one part of my brain horrified as I groaned and bucked against the invisible fingers, but I had no control over it. I lay, shuddering, and the warmth finally receded, leaving me panting and my head spinning.

When I finally opened my eyes, Alistair was huddled on the floor, head in hands, trembling, and Anders was looking at me, apologetic and anxious. I gave Anders a reassuring smile and sat up, feeling better, though extremely ... frustrated.

"Did it work?"

"Yes. It should be more normal, now." He looked over at Alistair, looked back at me, shrugged, squeezed my shoulder, and took his leave.

I sighed and approached Alistair. "Hey."

He didn't look up, just grunted in response.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know it would be quite like ... that. I'd have insisted you leave."

"And leave that bastard alone in here with you like that? No."

"Alistair, he was healing me. Fixing that embarrassing girl problem I'd rather not deal with. He wasn't doing anything wrong."

"Right."

"I trust Anders. I know you don't, but try to think of Zevran. You don't have to trust him, but I'd like to think, despite everything, that maybe you still trust me? Besides, frankly, the first healing hurt like hell. If this is the alternative, I'll take it. And better him than Wynne, because that would just be creepy."

He stood up quite suddenly, and I took a step back in surprise. He reached out and cupped my face gently. "I trust you with my life. I let him heal you, didn't I? I wanted to punch him in the face, but I didn't. But I didn't promise not to hate every man who looks at you with lust on his face, and I can't promise that I'll get better about that. That said..."

He leaned in and kissed my forehead softly, then released my face and turned away. "Leliana told me I should let you go. I have no intention of doing that. But she also said I'm hurting you, and that I will not do. So this is the last time I will bring it up. I picked one more song, but I'm done after that. I will keep it to myself, my love and my desire and my jealousy; I won't torment you with it anymore. But know this. I love you, and I always will. I don't expect your forgiveness. But if you ever need anything, I will be there."

He leaned over and placed my phone on the bed, then without looking back, walked away. I sat on the edge of the bed, dumbfounded. I decided to delay listening to the song, and instead rifled through my pack, pulling out the tube from Wynne. The smell of parchment and leather teased my nose when I popped the end off the tube, and a thick roll of parchment slid out onto my bed. I carefully unrolled it – parchment, while thicker than paper, is far more fragile – catching just a glimpse of an eye as it sprang back into the roll. I tried again and finally flattened the papers out.

The top page was a picture, drawn by hand, of Aedan and I, sitting together, laughing. There were shadows on our faces, making it look like firelight; Aedan had his arm casually around my shoulders, his head thrown back in a laugh. I was more restrained, but my eyes were scrunched with laughter, and I hid my mouth behind a hand like I tend to when giggling. I had what must have been a smear of dirt on my forehead, and my hair was coming undone from a braid or pony tail, curling crazily around my face. The detail was incredible; you'd have thought it was a photograph rendered into sepia tones with photo-editing software.

I set that page aside to see another drawing, this time of Leliana, Wynne, and me around a table talking. The third was Aedan, Zevran, and me; the fourth Duncan and me. There was one of me sparring with Sten, one of Leli braiding my hair, one of me grinding herbs with Morrigan for potions. Each picture was perfect, capturing the mood of each subject, as well as the subtle details that make each person unique.

And the theme was obvious – each picture was of me, with one of more of our companions. Until I flipped through a few more, and my eyes grew round. The bottom half of the stack of parchment was pictures of me alone. Sitting, eating, watching the fire, star-gazing. There was one of me sitting cross-legged on the floor of Soldier's Peak drawn from behind, shoulders stiff, head turned so that I'd just be able to see the observer out of the corner of my eye. I knew whose point of view the picture must have represented; I could recall sitting in a circle, discussing next steps, and feeling Alistair's gaze on my back.

The last few were the worst. Or best, I suppose, depending on your viewpoint. There was one of me asleep, hair mussed, mouth slightly open, head turned as though being cradled by someone. The expression on my face was peaceful, but somehow sensual; I could almost sense the artist's urge to kiss me. The next was less finished than the others. Again it was me, crouched down in front of a body of water, shoulders slumped, arms reaching out for a bundle floating in the water. I recognised it – it was me washing blood out of my clothes and blankets in the lake the night before. The only one who'd been awake at the time was Alistair; he must've followed me quietly to check on me when I'd asked him to leave me alone, and then spent the rest of the night drawing instead of sleeping.