A/N: Sorry all, got caught up with school, work and finals but I'm back and hope to be uploading more regularly again. Usual disclaimers apply and hope you enjoy!

Dorian released a shaky breath as he stared up at the night sky. The events at Crestwood had left him feeling raw. Now, as they fought their way through the mud of Fallow Mire with more undead all around them… He shook his head, trying to empty his mind of Crestwood's caves and the claw marks in the wall. The mage had always known that people could commit the most heinous atrocities – Tevinter practically flaunted theirs – but this… Even Tevinter wasn't that cruel. A shiver passed through his frame but Dorian wasn't ready to head back to his tent. Still, he knew better than to leave the safety of camp, so he walked along the edges until he reached the opening of the rocks.

It was too dark to see very far, although occasional flashes of lightening pierced the night. They couldn't be far from their captured soldiers & Maker willing, they'd be alright. It surprised him, really, how often the Inquisitor went out of his way to help people. The fact that Nathaniel could care less about whether the person they were helping belonged to the Inquisition or was rich or poor spoke volumes. It made it that much easier for Dorian to fall for the man, something he was trying desperately not to do.

A shambling form passed through Dorian's field of vision and his thoughts returned to Crestwood's caves. He frowned as he imagined the water rushing into the caves, the families panicking as they realized their fate. The desperate struggle as they tried to fight the inexorable outcome. Others resigned, choosing to end their life a different way. Dorian shivered again, but this time it wasn't from the cold.

"Dorian?" a voice questioned and the mage sighed – both pleased and irritated.

"Good evening Inquisitor. Or is it morning now?" he inquired.

"Dorian, how many times must I tell you to call me Nathaniel?" the man asked. "Why do you avoid using my name?" he asked. The mage hesitated to answer. If he spoke truth, their tentative friendship would be ruined and there was a good possibility that Dorian would have to leave the Inquisition. A convincing lie would be the best way to go, then.

"First-name basis invites all sorts of familiarity," he explained to the Inquisitor. "While you are undoubtedly closer to the members of your Inner Circle, too much familiarity is not advised. Especially with the evil Tevinter magister," he added sardonically.

"And what if that familiarity is what I want?" Nathaniel challenged as he crossed his arms. The question caught Dorian off-guard. Of everything he had expected…

"Nathaniel…" Dorian trailed off, at a loss of what to say that wouldn't give anything away. Trevelyan grinned, obviously pleased with the use of his first name. "We should turn in," he finally stated.

"I suppose trying to rescue our scouts while exhausted is a bad idea," Nathaniel conceded.

"More likely we'd be joining them," Dorian muttered. He ignored the way his body flushed when Nathaniel chuckled. "Good night, Nathaniel." Before the man could react, Dorian ducked into the tent he shared with Cole. Releasing a shaky sigh, he laid down and tried to sleep.

~Morning~

Dorian groaned as the dim light entered the tent but he left his bedroll anyway. He slumped into the seat next to Cole but made no move for food or drink. His head felt stuffed and it was clear to the mage that he had spent too much time in this horrible, damp weather. Still, their soldiers wouldn't rescue themselves.

"Sleep well?" Nathaniel asked politely.

"Racing thoughts swirling around, so many possible outcomes, terror and anticipation, choking on words, mustn't say the wrong thing." Cole answered. Dorian groaned as Nathaniel and Blackwall both looked to the mage for an explanation.

"Cole, what did I tell you about reading my mind?" he asked.

"Do it quietly," the Spirit answered dutifully. "But it hurts," he added. "I can help."

"NO." Dorian told him sternly. "Maker, Cole, just… let it alone," he sighed as he rubbed his temples. "Give me a shout when we're leaving," he added before heading back to the tent.

"I'm not doing it right," Cole told Nathaniel sadly. "But there are so many hurts – I don't know which to unravel first."

"It's alright, Cole. You'll figure it out," Nathaniel assured him before he stood up and trailed after the mage.

Dorian was not surprised to find Nathaniel ducking into the tent. It seemed that the Inquisitor was always turning up in the same vicinity as Dorian these days. He would find it annoying if he weren't so smitten with the man.

"Are you alright?" Nathaniel asked. Dorian tried to ignore the way Nathaniel was scrutinizing him. The warrior's eyes raked over the other man, cataloging every detail. The findings left him displeased and a frown marred his face. "Are you getting sick?" he asked.

"It's a cold, Nathaniel," Dorian sighed. He was too tired to fight. "No one ever died from a cold," he added. Nathaniel's frown deepened and he moved closer to the mage. A hand was placed on Dorian's forehead. Dorian startled and began to pull away. Nathaniel snagged one of the mage's wrists with his other hand, tugging Dorian back into his vicinity.

"You're burning up," Nathaniel muttered. "You're also extremely flushed."

"I'm fine, Inquisitor," Dorian snapped as he jerked out of the other man's grasp. He would never tell the man that his flush had nothing to do with illness and everything to do with his proximity.

"It's no use asking you to stay behind, is it?" Trevelyan asked. The resulting glare was all the answer he needed. He sighed but didn't argue. "We're leaving now," he announced before pulling back a tent flap and motioning for Dorian to exit first.

The walk through the mud was mostly silent. Dorian wasn't in a chatting mood, though he made a few of his trademark sarcastic quips, and his taciturn mood seemed to have rubbed off on Nathaniel. While Dorian appreciated the reprieve the silence unnerved him more.

"That little trick, Cole, when you dip into someone's mind and take a drink? Do you choose what you're looking for, or is it random?" he asked.

"It has to be hurt, or a way to help the hurt. That's what calls me." Cole answered. He went quiet for a moment and Dorian felt a moment of dread. "Rilienus, skin tan like fine whiskey, cheekbones shaded, lips curl when he smiles... He would have said yes."

"I'll...thank you not to do that again, please," the mage responded, purposely ignoring how Trevelyan's head had snapped to the right to stare at Dorian. He was thankful when they came upon Sky Watcher. It helped morale to hear that their soldiers were still alive and Dorian was intensely interested in how the Avvar used flocking birds as an augury. But his interest had to be put on hold and the group resumed its trek towards the remaining Avvar.

As they neared Hargrave Keep, undead began rising at an ever increasing rate. Despite their best efforts to cut through wave after wave kept coming. Dorian could feel his irritation growing – knew what it meant.

"Head for the Keep!" he shouted as the air around him began crackling. Nathaniel's protests cut off as Blackwall began hauling him towards the gate. Cole's eyes widened before he too disappeared and Dorian let down his walls. The anger and frustration that had been building inside of him since Crestwood poured out, incinerating everything in his path. With the path ahead clear, Dorian walked towards the gate, flames still burning around him, licking at the corpses and searching for anything it might have missed. As he crossed the threshold the gate slammed shut behind him and the gate in front of him opened.

"We may not get along, but I'm damn happy you're on our side," Blackwall told him as he saw the bodies outside the keep. Dorian gave the Warden a tight smile as he struggled to put out the still burning flames in his hands. There was a reason, he mused, that magic was meant to be kept free from emotion.

"It's so angry." Cole exclaimed.

"Not now, Cole," Dorian said tightly. As the flames finally flickered out of existence the mage sighed in relief. The party moved forward and despite the Inquisitor's hesitance as bringing Dorian he was happy the man was there. Shields definitely helped as Dorian and Cole took out the archers while Nathaniel and Blackwall focused on the warriors. The Avvar were tough, tougher than expected but the Inquisitor finally won the battle, freed their people and recruited a new ally. Blackwall was content with the new Grey Warden finds, Cole was pleased that they helped people and Dorian just wanted to go back to Skyhold without any more embarrassing incidents.

"Why did you leave your home, Dorian?" Cole asked softly as they headed back to camp. The mage sighed – hopes dashed.

"You know why. I had to stop the Venatori," he answered, praying that Cole would leave it there. He didn't.

"It was more...it was the man with your eyes...angry, walking on cobblestones, 'I'm on my own now'."

"Digging around in my head again, are you?" Dorian sighed. The thing that left him most disconcerted was that he didn't know when Cole was poking around in his head. There was no indication.

"You said I could ask questions!" the spirit replied. It was true, Dorian reasoned. He'd been so interested in learning more about Cole and Cole had been so accommodating about answering Dorian's questions that Dorian hadn't thought twice about extending the invitation.

"Rather like inviting someone into your house and they walk off with the silverware!" he sighed. Cole seemed to sense that the mage didn't want to talk about it and dropped the subject. The rain had seeped into his mood by the time they returned to camp. He felt drained after his fire display at the Keep and a dull throb had settled into his temples. He excused himself from dinner and collapsed into his bedroll. He must have slept deeply as he didn't hear Cole enter the tent. The morning found the dull ache transformed into a splitting migraine that not even healing magic could get rid of. But Dorian had been conditioned from birth to never show weakness. He pasted a jovial grin on his face and joined his companions around the fire. He faltered slightly as the smells of breakfast reached him – his stomach revolted at the thought of food – but he tapped into his iron Tevinter resolve and sat down with a flourish. "And how is everyone this morning?" he asked. He waived away the plate that was brought to him, barely swallowing back the bile.

"He needs soup," Cole whispered to the cook. "Like Nanny used to make when Mother and Father were too busy. Warm and spicy – burns the fever out of you."

"You are sick!" Nathaniel exclaimed. "Are you worse than yesterday?" he asked as he stood and circled around the fire to Dorian's side.

"You were sick yesterday?" Blackwall asked in genuine surprise. "And you still managed to…" he trailed off, giving the Tevinter an appraising look.

"Undead swarming. Keep them safe. So many needlessly dead here. Crestwood. The caves. Don't think of the caves. Burning hot – rage. Fire exploding but after, cold. So cold and tired." Cole stated, disappearing from the Cook's side and reappearing next to his companions.

"Yes, thank you, Cole." Dorian interrupted.

"Dorian, why do you never say what you mean?" the spirit asked.

"I could ask you the same question," the mage countered, raising an eyebrow. Cole gave him a confused look but let the matter drop. Now if Dorian could get Nathaniel to quit hovering over him his day would be perfect. "Really, Inquisitor, I am fine. If we were traveling anywhere but Skyhold it might be an issue. However, the way back is mostly clear."

"He has a fair point," Blackwall agreed. "Besides, this swamp isn't going to help his health – best place for him to recuperate would be the castle."

"See, it can't be a bad idea if both Blackwall and myself agree," Dorian stated, giving the burly man a half-smile. Nathaniel sighed but couldn't argue with the reasoning.

"All right," he agreed. "We'll head back to Skyhold but you tick by me the entire time," he ordered.

"That hardly seems well thought out, Inquisitor." Dorian told him as he accepted his soup from a young elven lass. "You have other mages to travel with while I recover but the Inquisition has only one Inquisitor. You would do better to keep your distance," he told the man, gently pushing him further away.

"But…" Nathaniel protested.

"The lad has a point, Inquisitor. Let me or the spirit stay with him," Blackwall interjected. Dorian left it to the warrior to carry on the argument and turned his attention to his rapidly cooling soup. The taste wasn't quite the same since the South didn't have the exact ingredients but it was delicious nonetheless. Southern food could be so bland and it was nice to finally sample something with flavor to it. He savored it as Nathaniel and Blackwall fought together. The disagreement seemed to perturb their spirit friend, who shuffled closer to the mage, soaking in his contentment.

"Careful Cole. I don't want you to get sick either," he warned.

"I can't get sick," Cole answered. It was clear the young man was confused at the mere suggestion of getting sick which presented a solution to the current predicament.

"Not that I'm not enjoying the circular arguments," Dorian interjected, disrupting the heated discussion between the two warriors. "But our rogue friend just brought up a very good point," he informed them. The two men turned to look at Dorian who motioned for Cole to repeat himself.

"Well, isn't that convenient," Blackwall chuckled after hearing Cole's news.

"Cole, do you mind staying with Dorian for the return trip?" Nathaniel asked, clearly put out that he wasn't getting his way. Or maybe that was just the mage's mind playing tricks on him.

"No. I like helping people," the spirit reminded the group. "I can answer his questions and he can answer mine."

"Lovely," Dorian sighed. It was going to be a long trip back to Skyhold.

~Review~