A/N: Must I say it again? THIS IS NOT SLASH. IF YOU'RE LOOKING FOR MAT/RAND SMUT, GO ELSEWHERE. Thank you.

Now, for some cute Rand/Mat friendshipness.

Mat was awake when Rand entered his tent.

Lying on his back, shirtless, Mat glanced briefly at Rand, grunted, then pulled that ridiculous hat lower with a sigh. Rand sat down uncomfortably. "Does it help?" he asked at last. "The hat, I mean. With the heat."

Mat lifted the brim to stare at Rand with bleary eyes. "What?" Rand started to repeat himself, but Mat interrupted. "No, I know what you said. But it's completely irrelevant. What do you really want?"

Rand flinched at the suspicion in Mat's voice. "Want? Nothing! Have I changed so much that we can't even talk unless I want something? Is that how you see me?" He sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair, sitting back down and releasing clenched fists. "I'm sorry, Mat. I don't know what's gotten into me. I'm just so…tense."

"Maybe you should ask Aviendha for a massage." Mat grinned. "Only kidding! Light, why do you keep her around, anyway? Only a –" he stopped, his grin melting like butter. Rand grimaced. Only a madman, he had been about to say.

"Relax, Mat," Rand assured him. "I just want to talk about old times. Life as it used to be, before… all this." Rand gestured around the tent. "Light, but I miss it," he murmured. "The sheep, and my Da, and always knowing what would happen, every morning. Don't you miss it, Mat?"

Mat snorted, but his eyes glinted in the light of the single candle. "Of course not. Out in the world, there's money to be won, girls to be dandled – it's better than anything back home."

Rand drew a deep breath. "I miss you, Mat," he said quickly. "I miss having you as a friend, making mischief with you. Remember when we stole that jug of brandy? And even the ride to Caemlyn: we were friends, really friends. But now you're pulling back, and I miss you. I wish we could just pretend that nothing's changed."

Mat smiled bitterly. "But it has, Rand. So much has changed. Nothing will ever be the same again. My luck, and Perrin's eyes, and you…" Mat hesitated, and rushed on. "It can't be the same, and you and I both know it."

Rand wanted to cry as he glimpsed the ropy scar on Mat's neck, beneath the scarf, and swallowed hard. "I love you, Mat," he said softly.

Mat stood and embraced Rand, holding him tightly. "I love you too, Rand. I will be your friend as I always have been, no matter how much life has changed – as soon as the old Rand is back – the one who used to smile and laugh with me."

Rand smiled weakly. "He never left."

A figure robed in white entered silently. "The Chiefs wish to see the Car'a'carn," he said in those soft Aiel tones. Rand turned red-rimmed eyes on Mat, eyes that had lost all their temporary softness. Hard as the Aiel Waste.

"I should go," he said at last.

"Get some sleep, Rand," Mat said quietly. "You look tired."

Rand looked at him a moment longer, then turned and strode out of the tent. But he imagined he heard Mat murmuring something, and struggled to make out the words.

"No Rand, you're wrong. The old Rand isn't there anymore, and I don't think he's ever coming back," Mat said, and Rand's heart was bleak as he stared at the miles of emptiness and wished he did not resemble the landscape so much within.