ONE

Nobody asked him what he wanted.

The decision had been made for him. Khyran remembered how Solas and Varric bickered about what was best for Cole, but no one asked the boy what he thought. It was his identity, after all. Shouldn't it have been his choice?

Inquisitor Khyran pinched the bridge of his long nose and sighed. A heaviness grew beneath his sternum- a weight only guilt could bring. He was too accustomed to the power his title gave him, making split second decisions on behalf of his companions and taking advantage of their loyalty. He didn't think before he acted.

And it was Cole paying the price.

Khyran watched Cole where he sat on the ramparts, squinting through a haze of misty rain. The young man rocked himself, his head between his knees. His big hat obscured every inch of his face, but Khyran could guess what his eyes were like underneath: haunted, disturbed, unblinking. He had seen the look on Cole's face three days ago when they returned to Skyhold. Solas and Varric had each spoken to Cole in turn since then, but he had been unresponsive, save for complaining that it hurt.

Khyran thought he must've been sitting there for hours. He ascended the staircase to the ramparts, the rainfall masking his footsteps as he moved. He crept towards Cole until he reached an arm's breadth away from him. Cole didn't look up where he sat drenched in his dirty leathers.

Neither of them spoke for several minutes. An echo of metal smashing metal carried out from the nearby smithy. Wind rustled through the forest beyond the fortress. When it became clear that Cole wasn't going to do anything, Khyran tentatively hoisted himself up on the wall and eased his legs over the edge. He folded his hands in his lap and gazed out beyond the conifers below them.

"Chest clenching, cracked, cradled- held heavy, hurting." A breathy voice from Cole broke the silence. "I choose without their choosing, stole freedom, and they cannot object. I'm a tyrant, taking, twisting… and they only follow because they must."

It bothered Khyran, being faced with Cole's disturbing ability to translate the pain of other minds into poetry. It was like listening to him read his diary out loud. Here were his fears and insecurities, unmasked and naked. Khyran rubbed at his unshaven chin and chewed his lower lip as he considered a reply. "You can still get in my head."

Cole said nothing. Back, forth, back, forth. He teetered rhythmically where he sat on the edge of the wall.

"Are you angry with me?"

Cole's rocking ceased. "I don't know." A pause. "Sometimes you make choices that hurt people. Sometimes you have no way to choose without hurting." He began rocking steadily again. "You have so much power over people's lives… it hurts you."

"It hurt you too. I'm sorry, Cole."

He didn't reply. Khyran watched him for a few minutes. Cole's hat drooped with the weight of the rainwater.

"You should come inside. You'll catch cold."

"I don't get sick."

"I'm not sure that is so impossible now, Cole."

The boy didn't move. "I feel… stolen. I stole him but he is stealing me. I don't know how real I was or if I am getting realer."

"You took the form of a dead apostate because you couldn't help him. But I think you're helping him now, Cole. You're giving him a new life. I think you've always been real."

"But am I *him*? Did I bring him back?"

Khyran shrugged feebly. "I don't know. I… I think so. I think you are helping him after all. Giving him a new life."

If it were possible for a spirit of compassion to possess a dead body and make it live, that would be a rudimentary way of explaining what Cole was. He had always been caught in a strange limbo between reality and the Fade, a unique anomaly in the world where rules could as easily be broken as studiously observed. He was wholly spirit and wholly flesh. For a time, he didn't know how to properly be either.

It was Khyran who made the split-second decision to push Cole out of the comfortable place occupying both worlds into the one *he* inhabited. Varric's insistence swayed him. Varric said the boy was meant to be human- that he longed to experience a renewed life in the body that could do so no longer. Solas had strongly objected, saying it would do nothing more than confuse and torment the spirit. Solas believed he could not truly change his nature- at least, not without grim consequences.

Khyran realized, in retrospect, that Solas was right. As usual. Cole suffered before his very eyes.

He had been biased and blind, believing that the human experience was worth trading Cole's comfort. He couldn't believe Cole would be happy, drifting through life largely unnoticed by anyone while performing so many thankless services. He feared Cole was doomed to be forgotten. But, seeing Cole now, Khyran wondered how he could've been such a fool. Who in their right mind would want to be *human*?

Khyran looked down at his own hands with disgust, scowling at the flesh lined with cracks and callouses. Humanity was detestable. Stinking, self-obsessed, easy to anger, plagued by such basic needs to eat and sleep and bathe. They were jealous, hateful, weak, fragile creatures. Khyran wondered if any person was capable of being truly selfless. Wasn't every action one took secretly for their own benefit, even under the guise of charity and heroics?

"…It's not… all bad like that… is it?" Cole asked miserably. Khyran's heart twisted at hearing the agony in the boy's voice. He shouldn't have allowed his thoughts to drift to such dark places. He wanted to help Cole, not give him more things to worry about.

The Inquisitor heaved a sigh. "No, of course not." He said. "There's… a lot more to being human. I'm just…"

"Guilt."

For the first time, Cole lifted his head to peer at Khyran, his large and vividly blue eyes barely visible beneath the shadow of his hat and drooping locks of straw-colored hair. Khyran wasn't sure if the wetness on his face were tears or rain.

"You pushed me into hurt… because you thought it was right. You regret it." His head dipped so Khyran couldn't see his eyes anymore. "Thank you."

Khyran didn't feel comforted. "You can't see the good things when you read a mind, right?"

Cole didn't reply.

Slowly, the Inquisitor slid off the wall and back onto his feet. "I can't reverse what I've done to you." He reached out to touch Cole's shoulder. "But I can show you the good things that make humans special. If you'll let me."

Khyran assumed Cole's silence meant he was simply thinking, not refusing. The Inquisitor waited for a response. Cole remained where he was, still rocking back and forth, not reacting to the hand on his shoulder.

"Cole?"

"It *hurts*." Cole whimpered. His voice was so small, he almost sounded like a child.

"What hurts?"

Cole's breaths quickened and he rocked faster. His head dipped lower between his knees and he tugged at the brim of his hat. "Guts gripping in the dark… longing to fill it, I tried eating the rats but they bit my shaking hands… searing, suffering silent, fear they'd come but never came, Maker, Maker left me to-!"

"Cole."

Khyran tried to drag the boy back to the present before he descended into panic. His grip tightened on Cole's shoulder. "You're not going to starve to death again. I won't let you, okay? Now you're going to come off that wall and walk with me to the tavern, or I'm going to carry you there myself." It was an order.

Cole lifted his head from between his knees and slid off the wall in one smooth motion. He straightened to full height, but still the hat obscured his face. Khyran himself was a rather lithe Mage, but Cole still managed to be thinner than him. Khyran wondered if it wasn't just because Cole was young. Having starved to death in a previous life might have given him a body to match, but it was hard to tell in his ragged leathers.

Khyran led him away, wondering how in Thedas he was going to make Cole believe that being human was worth the trouble.

The Inquisitor stepped inside the tavern followed by a sullen Cole. Khyran felt the warmth on his face, inhaled the scent of burning wood and spicy meats. The Herald's Rest, filled to bursting point with Inquisition soldiers, felt alive with chatter. It all blended together until Khyran heard one voice above the rest.

"...and then I told her, 'Honey. That's a nug.' The look on her face!"

The Iron Bull laughed uproariously as Varric finished his tale. The Chargers were all seated around the dwarf as he held their attention. They didn't notice him come in with Cole and Khyran considered this to his advantage. The fewer eyes boring into Cole the better. The fact that he could be seen so easily now wasn't doing him any favors.

Ordering Cole something to eat went painlessly enough, but just as Khyran was about to take the bowl and scoot to an unnoticed corner of the room, Varric spotted them from the crowded table nearby. He saw the Dwarf's eyes lingering on him. Khyran could tell from the temporary lull in boisterous conversation that he was about to say something to them. Cole hadn't gone anywhere near anyone for the past three days. To see that he, the Inquisitor, had been successful in bringing him to the tavern served enough of a surprise to warrant Varric's attention. Cole, however, seemed oblivious. He slid into the chair nearest to the corner of the room and perched on it like a sad raven. Rainwater dripped from his hair and trailed down what was visible of his face. Khyran joined him and set his bowl down in front of him.

"Do you remember eating? Before your first life died, I mean?" Khyran asked.

Cole shook his head a little. "Only… fleeting feelings. Like… a dream you can't quite remember." He hugged his knees up against his chest. "Everything from my life before is like that."

Nearby, Varric launched into a new story to entertain the Chargers. Something about a naive Elf girl and his various expensive endeavors to keep her from getting into trouble. Khyran had difficulty listening, as interesting as the story probably was. Every story Varric told from his time with Hawke bore interest to Khyran, but he simply couldn't spare the attention now. He folded his hands beneath his chin and watched Cole. "I suppose it would be good if you don't remember what starving feels like?"

"I remember what starving feels like." Cole replied, playing with the spoon in his bowl. He lifted it and uncertainly sniffed at its contents. "I-"

The tavern doors burst open. Cole and Khyran both turned to see who had entered.

A bedraggled and frantic Cullen stood at the entrance, scanning the room. A few moments later, he fixated on Khyran and made a beeline for him. His blond hair was greasier than usual, his tired eyes set in a grave stare. "You're needed in the war room." He said. "It's urgent."

A thousand questions sprang to the Inquisitor's mind at once, but he could ask none of them yet. He wouldn't doubt the urgency of the situation or make Cullen wait any longer than he had to. Khyran stood and gave Cole an apologetic look. "Will you be alright, Cole? This… may be a while."

Cole adjusted his feet where he perched on his chair. Though Khyran couldn't see his eyes, he could tell he was watching Cullen carefully. He opened his mouth to say something, but Cullen was already leaving, and Khyran followed. He gave Cole one last look over his shoulder before he disappeared outside.

Varric would take care of Cole. He was certain of it.