Chapter 4: Misunderstandings

Summary: Where Evelyn Trevelyan doesn't know what the hell is going on and Jim is confronted with a very unpleasant possibility. Not shown in this chapter: Morrigan, shrugging her shoulders and not giving a shit about everything going down.

"Good morning," Cassandra stated dryly, greeting them all as they surrounded the War Table.

"We have a few pressing matters to address this morning," Josephine announced, placing a small stack of letters and scrolls on the table.

Evelyn cast furtive glances at Cullen. Something was decidedly different about the Commander that day, she thought. It was strange not seeing him in his armor. He looked very relaxed as he stood with his arms crossed and his head cocked to the side. She never realized how muscular the Commander was even when not wearing his armor. Those clothes were too informal, as he was on duty, and she would have to bring it up at some point… but he did look striking in them, she had to admit. And his hair that morning looked tousled and a little wild.

I'd like to touch it…she caught herself thinking longingly.

He raised those light brown eyes at her and she froze. They often did that during those meetings—they'd catch each other staring and awkwardly looked away. But this time he did not look away. He brazenly nodded and smiled.

She directed her flustered gaze to Morrigan, who had brought along a Private who she insisted was an operative. The man wore a scout's uniform and stood quietly at the sorceress' side. She had caught him unabashedly staring at her.

Everyone's always a little awestruck to meet the Inquisitor up close, I suppose, she sighed, glancing down at the mark on her hand. I wonder if I measure up to the expectations?

The scout had a kind expression, though—a certain seriousness she appreciated. He remained standing stiffly, at the ready.

"Private," she called out gently.

He continued to stare at her, but did not appear to register that she was speaking to him. Morrigan's elbow shot out to poke him in the ribs.

"Ah—yes, Inquisitor! Your Worship!" he babbled nervously.

She concealed a smile. She decided she liked the Private already. She'd have to ask Cullen about him sometime.

"You may be at ease," she told him. "These meetings can last a while."

"I know," he grinned sympathetically.

Morrigan cleared her throat.

"I mean—of course! Thank you, Inquisitor!"

"Shall we begin?" Josephine asked, looking around the table.

"Yes," Leliana seconded. "But I just need to say this before we begin: Cullen, this is a new look for you!" she teased, leaning past Josephine and addressing the Commander.

Rather than offer them the usual volley of self-deprecating comments or simply ignore her, he smoothed the front of his tunic and arched an eyebrow at her.

"Are you saying you like it?" he flirted.

Blank stares crossed the table. Leliana couldn't help cracking a disconcerted smile.

"I was just saying that it is different…for you, that is!"

Evelyn blinked a couple times in disbelief.

That was so uncharacteristic of Cullen!

As Josephine began to present the queries and requests they had received, Evelyn kept finding her gaze drawn to the Commander.

She had to admit he looked very handsome. She also had to say that seeing him looking so positively delicious was making her wish things between them would progress faster. Cullen was very articulate. She knew he held her in the highest regard. That he admired her. He told her those things time and again…but if only he'd act on all that fervent admiration…

That morning there was something odd she couldn't quite put her finger on.

He was quiet. Too quiet.

Cullen was opinionated and never refrained from expressing his point of view. He often challenged them on choices, offered alternatives, questioned courses of action…But at the meeting he'd said little, and what little he did say consisted of hasty agreements with whatever decision had been proposed by the others. Her unease was compounded when she noticed that he kept sneaking steamy looks at the spymaster.

In his gaze she could distinguish a fire she had never seen before. It was raw and lusty…and was not directed, as she would have hoped, at her.

Evelyn looked away, trying to compose herself. She met instead with the Private's sad eyes. She felt overwhelmed all of a sudden.

"I'm sorry," she stated abruptly. "Since we are almost done, I'd like to head back to my quarters. I am not feeling very well at the moment."

Before anyone could stop her, she had whirled around and burst past the doors into the stony hallway.

This is ridiculous, Evelyn. Pull yourself together. You are merely imagining things. You have to focus on Corypheus right now. There is no time for sentimental nonsense, she censured herself.

But she had seen it. Clearly. Cullen staring hungrily at Leliana, appraising her figure, running those covetous eyes over her body.

He had never looked at her that way.

Maybe it was because he had never felt that way about her. She had never seen that aspect of Cullen's before…Perhaps, in light of his inaction on the courting front and his sudden interest in Leliana, it was because he had never intended her to become familiar with that side of his…

She drew in a sharp breath.

Maybe he only thought of her with the type of respect and reverence afforded someone he admired. He was, after all, so formal with her, so polite, standing on so much ceremony.

She remembered the uncontained desire in those eyes.

Leliana was someone he knew much better, had worked so closely with in the past. Leliana and he shared a common background, history, experience, were involved with the Chantry.

And she?

She was a mage.

Everything the Commander despised, she realized. Yes, he had changed his tone considerably since they'd reached Skyhold. She had fervently hoped that his feelings towards mages had been swayed…She had even convinced herself that something deep and tender had begun to grow between them and that in time they would garner enough courage to push past their shared shyness to claim it.

But that morning had been a wake-up for her.

Cullen was, at heart, a Templar.

And a Templar could never learn to love a mage.

She dragged the back of her hand over her eyes, suppressing a surge of tears when she heard hurried footsteps halt behind her.

"Inquisitor!" a voice called out plaintively.

She turned to find the scout standing there. She sniffed and stared in bewilderment.

"Please allow me to escort you to your quarters, since you are not well," he suggested. "You should not be left alone."

Her first instinct had been to shoo him away so she could be left with her sorrow, but something about the scout's plaintive expression made her hold her tongue.

"Very well, she acquiesced. "Lead the way then." She stepped aside and let him open the door for her.

Evelyn said precious little to him as they walked towards her quarters. Cullen could tell she was very distraught—he'd learned to pick up on shifts in her moods. It was with a heavy heart that he walked her to her bedroom's door.

"Thank you, Private…?" she paused and glanced up at him.

"Jim!" he revealed. "The name is Jim."

"Jim" she repeated pensively.

"Do you need anything else, your Worship?" he stalled.

"No, thank you." She unlocked the door.

"Then I will take my leave, with your permission," he announced, watching her disappear from his view. "I should really get back to keeping an eye on the 'Commander,'" he grumbled crossly.

He'd meant that as an aside to himself, but realized, as Evelyn opened the door widely once more, that he'd been overheard.

"What do you mean?" she asked suspiciously.

Cullen scratched the back of his neck over the hood nervously. Maker, how he hated that uniform!

"I, uh, meant to say that I should get back to the War Table…"

Evelyn was persistent.

"No, no: you mentioned you needed to keep an eye on the Commander. I want to know why. Is there something the matter with him?"

He wracked his brain for something that would come across as a valid excuse, but he couldn't think of anything convincing.

"The truth is," he began apprehensively, "that the Commander…Well, Inquisitor…I am sure you noticed. He just…isn't himself today," he began weakly.

"I knew it!" she cried out triumphantly. She ushered Jim inside. "You must tell me exactly what is going on, Private Jim. Spare no details," she told him vehemently.

Oh, Maker.

"That was a smooth meeting!" Josephine announced cheerfully, tapping her stack of papers into an organized bundle over the war table.

"Yes, it was. I'm surprised myself. I thought be stuck here for hours! Are you sure you are feeling all right, Cullen?" Cassandra joked. "I can't believe you didn't try to elbow in on some of the operations I'll be undertaking!"

"I can always step up if I am needed to fix any messes," he kidded.

He noticed he'd succeeded in charming the Ambassador and even the Seeker with his laid back, playful manner. The spymaster, though, examined him pensively beneath her hood.

"Cullen."

Her hand stilled over his arm as he began to leave the room, following the others.

"Do you have a moment?" she asked.

"Yeah, sure!" he replied.

"Good." She wandered past the table towards the exit. "Come to the rookery in a moment. I'd like to have a word with you."

Jim went pale.

I'd like to have a word with you.

Wasn't that what she had messengers tell him anytime she wanted to see him?

Granted, he and Leliana had never talked about not seeing other people. He was always one to believe in the freedom of both men and women to do whatever they wanted with whomever they wanted…But even though he and Leliana always had those intense encounters, he had to admit that he looked forward to their pillow talks afterwards, when she'd be in his arms, resting her head on his shoulder and lazily running her fingertips up and down his chest…

He didn't want to imagine her with anyone else and he most certainly didn't want to imagine her in Commander Cullen's arms.

Jim's heart sank as he left the War Table.