Author's Note: My apologies for the delay, as I've been a little tired this week. ~.~ Hope everyone's still enjoying the ride. We're drawing into what I'd call the final leg of the story, so not too far to go from here (unless I get an idea and sidetrack, of course XD). Stay tuned, and thanks for all the wonderful encouragement and kind words.

The smell of something delicious cooking, the sounds of murmuring voices, a crackling fire, a bubbling pot and her own growling stomach all brought Asleena awake, but when she opened her eyes the first thing she saw was Zevran.

The blond elf lay barely an arm's length away, his face turned towards hers as he slept. She didn't think she'd ever seen the assassin asleep before now. Unconscious a few times, yes, but not asleep; he had a way of waking up as soon as anyone so much as scratched at the flap of his tent. He looked…peaceful. The morning sunlight through the trees dappled shifting patterns across the upturned tattooed side of his face. It glinted against a long tendril of hair that hung loose across his closed eyes. There was still blood and dirt on him, token reminders of how rough the last day and a half had been. The fact he was more dirty and dishevelled than she'd ever seen him was mute testimony to how hard he'd striven on her behalf recently…

Almost without conscious volition she reached out to brush the stray lock of hair away, and several things happened at once.

Zevran seized her wrist. A split second later his other hand emerged from beneath whatever he was using as a pillow, the dagger in his fist slicing towards her neck. Asleena reacted without thought and grabbed his forearm, wrenched her other hand free of his grasp and yanked hard, flipping him completely over and twisting his arm behind him. She finished up atop him with one knee pressed to the small of his back and her other leg aching in protest.

There was a muffled groan from somewhere beneath her.

"What a marvellous way to wake up," Zevran managed in a strained voice.

"Oh, Maker!" Asleena released his arm and hurriedly got off him. "Zev, I'm sorry, I—"

"—saw a weapon coming towards your throat and quite rightly took action," the assassin finished, flashing her a smile from his prone position. He propped himself up with one arm and gestured disparagingly with the dagger. "Survival instincts die hard, I fear, though I must say it may have been worth the trouble if it meant ending up being straddled by a ravishing woman such as yourself."

Someone cleared his throat pointedly. "Er…if you two are awake…"

Six Dalish were watching the pair with varying levels of alarm or curiosity, two with weapons drawn. Zevran rolled onto his back and sat up while Asleena settled carefully into her blankets, trying not to wince at the pain her movements had cost her.

She recognised the speaker's voice, but not his face. "You're Valar?" she asked.

"I take it I look like an elf and not a Shriek this morning, Asleena?" he replied, smiling kindly as he held out two wooden bowls that steamed.

"…so it wasn't just an incredibly humiliating dream. Sod."

"Eat now, talk later," Valar ordered. "You were burning up all the resources in your body when we got to you last night. Between that and your leg it's a wonder you managed to stay conscious."

"They are taking us to a nearby clan when we get moving," Zevran said. "The healer there will see you back on both feet."

Asleena started to thank them, but at a stern glance from Valar decided to eat instead. It took a certain amount of effort not to shovel the hot porridge into her mouth as fast as she could. She was famished, but not wanting to disgrace herself in front of her hosts she fell back on the strict eating etiquette that had been instilled as a noble's daughter and paced herself. It took four whole bowls before she started to feel full, but no one commented, even though Zevran had stopped after two.

"Now drink this," Valar said, swirling a earthenware cup of fire-warmed liquid and herbs, and she did what she was told. The texture of the liquid tasted oddly familiar, its flavour sweetened but not unpleasantly so.

"Milk?" she guessed after a couple of cautious preliminary sips.

"Halla milk, shemlen." The healer waited until she'd finished and set the cup aside then held out a wooden crutch with leather padding wrapped around the underarm support. "Here is something to help you walk. It won't be too comfortable, sadly, but it need only get you to where we're going. Try standing and tell me how your head feels."

Zevran was up instantly and offering her a hand, but Asleena found herself hesitating to take it as uncomfortable memories from the previous night rushed back. Her apparent reluctance provoked a flicker of…something…in her companion's golden-brown eyes. Disappointment. Maybe even a spark of fear. It was rarely easy to read him.

Ridiculous…I had my arm around his shoulder and his arm around my waist for almost all of yesterday, and now I don't trust to take his hand?

She felt guilty, then angry that she felt guilty. After everything he'd done recently he deserved better. The issue wasn't that she didn't trust him, for he'd done nothing wrong, it was just that she'd…well, she'd practically thrown herself at him…and…he hadn't taken advantage of it, but he'd seen. He'd witnessed something of her she'd have rather kept hidden and she felt exposed as a consequence of that.

Had she ever desired to be in the arms of Zevran Arainai? Yes...she had. He was handsome, capable, charming when he wanted to be, clever, fun to be around, he had those eyes of his, and whatever dark things were in his past he'd been here for her constantly. But there were plenty of things in life she'd wanted or dreamed of, whether as passing whims or so deeply her blood had boiled with the strength of her need. That didn't mean those desires weren't sometimes wrong, inappropriate, hurtful or just plain stupid. Some things you just didn't act on, let alone mention. It was like…she'd told Zev only a few days ago she found his tattoo attractive, but hadn't gone so far as to let him know she'd always had a fancy to touch it to see if the curved markings felt any different to unblemished skin.

Maybe he'd shrug it all off as desire demon trickery and not believe any of that had truly been her? Maker, she really hoped so…

She reached up just as Zevran began to withdraw his hand and grabbed his wrist. He said nothing but helped her balance on one foot while she got the crutch in order, after which he bent to collect and pack away the few things they'd brought with them. He wasn't obliged to pick up her armour as she was still wearing it, but she didn't question him when Duncan's shield went into a backpack—she wasn't in much of a position to use it, after all. She'd have to make do with the darkspawn crossbow if trouble came looking for them. She'd probably never see Starfang again.

"Any dizziness?" Valar asked her. "Nausea?"

Asleena rallied and shook her head. "No…not even a bit. Whatever you gave me did the trick."

"What all healers love to hear," he replied with a chuckle. "Shall we be off then? Let us clean this place up and get you to some expert care."

The Dalish made quick work of the camp and then led the way up the leafy trail, heading towards the cave and past it. Zevran walked beside Asleena. At first she thought he was going to make the trip in silence, but he finally said, "Might I ask what happened last night? Rather, what you remember?"

"Besides sucking on the face of a demon, you mean?" Asleena muttered, not trying to hide her flush of humiliation.

Zevran waved a hand. "Oh, that? That's not so bad. Truthfully, I'm a little envious. I got the demon that wanted to suck my blood. You got the demon that would have been willing to suck—"

"Zevran!"

He grinned impudently. "Ah, there we are. You were looking entirely too serious, my dear. Whatever happened cannot be that bad, can it? You were, after all, fully clothed when we found you."

"Thank the Maker."

"So?"

"So. A lot of lies. Wishful thinking and stupid dreams." She dug the butt of her crutch savagely into the fallen leaves as they walked. "If think a part of me knew none of it was real, but I fell for it and was…happy to fall, in the end. No accusations, no arguments, just acceptance and going back to how it used to be. Then you showed up."

"Should I not have?" Zevran asked carefully.

"No, no…I was happy to see you! I thought we'd all find Ferrix and go back home together. I'd take you both to Highever and show off my old stomping grounds and…I don't know. Just enjoy life, I guess."

"So you do wish for me to accompany you back to Ferelden?"

"Why wouldn't I?" She smiled a little. "You think that however this ends I'd want you to go away? You're my friend. I'd love to show you where I grew up." She hesitated. "I actually said I wanted you to come back to Ferelden? What else did I say?"

Something in his posture suggested he relaxed a little at that, though she had no idea why this would be so. "Do you not recall?"

"I…no, actually. A word here or there, but mostly it's impressions and embarrassing emotions. I remember what I saw, how I felt and how I acted more vividly." She scowled then, and decided to get it over with. "I tried to jump you, didn't I?"

"The things you did to try and seduce me," Zevran said, grinning once more. "Ah, but my fair lady, I have always preferred to have my victims…willing."

"This isn't going to change anything between us, is it?" she asked awkwardly.

"Why should it? You were not in control of yourself and I never forgot that. If anything changes then it is entirely your choice of how that is. My desires remain even as they were."

As they continued on with the Dalish in companionable silence, she wondered about that last claim. She'd have to be blind and stupid to not recognise Zevran cared about her welfare, but it had come to the point that she felt his attention went beyond what she'd expect of him as a 'mere' close friend.

"What does 'amore' mean?" she asked suddenly. "Is it elvish?"

He couldn't lie about that, not with a group of elves surrounding them. To his credit, the query didn't make him look surprised or put a foot out of step. "It is Antivan. Where did you hear that?"

"Just something I thought I remembered you saying last night."

"Amore…" Zevran lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "'My friend'...and now I am intrigued. Was I reciting poetry, perchance?"

"If I remember any more of it, I'll ask you for the translation," she replied wryly, and he seemed satisfied that he'd gotten away with the deception.

Asleena well knew what the endearment truly meant. She had never mentioned to any of her friends that her brother's late wife hailed from Antiva.

When they reached the Dalish camp less than an hour later, Valar led Asleena to the clan's Spirit Healer, went to speak with its Keeper about the demon, then took his leave. Zevran saw the old elf and his armed escort off, thanking them for their aid.

"No thanks are required, lethallin," Valar said, "but please be more careful in the future. Dareth shirel."

While Asleena was being healed Zevran wandered aimlessly through the camp. A large number of the elves were recovering from injuries, and in one area several fresh earthen mounds rose above the natural level of the ground. In the manner of the Dalish, a sapling had been planted atop each grave. There were eleven. Two were much smaller than the rest.

They would have to return to the earthwound to look for Ferrix, Zevran thought as he gazed at the verdant mortuary, and she would insist upon seeing Sindel if he brought up the fact the elven Keeper lived. That would give Alistair a head start…

I should have told him and ended this. It has gone too far. 'Amore'? What possessed me to say that?

Had the demon still been alive he'd have cheerfully gutted it a second time. How dare it try to toy with him, and use her to do it?

Muttering something unpleasant, he stalked back to the main area of the camp in time to see Asleena crouching down to strap a dragonbone greave to her healed leg. She stood and said something to the healer, a middle-aged but still attractive woman with braided blonde hair, and Zevran smoothed his features before going over to them.

"You are a half day's walk from the earthwound," the healer was advising, "and that's if you know where you're going, strangers. Keeper Damalian may provide a guide, but there has been great sorrow here recently. The thought of trusting two she doesn't know with the life of one of our own…"

"Would telling your Keeper I'm a Grey Warden help at all?" Asleena asked, throwing a grin at Zevran. No doubt she expected him to be amused that she was following his advice of playing that card whenever she could, so he smiled, but unconsciously held his breath at the same time.

"It might," the elf replied, her brown eyes narrowing. "If it's true. I heard there were two Wardens in the Green Dales, one of them a shem woman with an elf and a great hound as companions."

"My mabari warhound," Asleena explained. "He got separated from us near the earthwound the night before last."

"I also heard you were accompanied by Keeper Sindel. You were thought to be dead, Warden."

"As you can see, she is very much alive," Zevran said when Asleena fell silent. "As am I, and, I hope, the mabari. I had heard Keeper Sindel also lived."

Asleena blinked at him and the healer tilted her head inquisitively. "That was true yesterday."

"She was badly wounded?" Asleena asked quickly. "What's wrong?"

"She is blight-fevered. Worse than death, wouldn't you say?"

Asleena took a slow breath and released it. "Maybe there's a way to—"

"There isn't," the healer said in a flat tone. She made a motion to some distant sickbeds. "Unless the mighty Grey Wardens know some miracle cure we mere mortals do not? If so, I would love to hear it."

"Be very careful of whom you accuse for this sickness, my lovely elf," Zevran advised with a pleasant smile.

"If her order had gotten here sooner," came the angry retort, "this might have been avoided! Two. They sent us two. We have a right to blame them, and humans as well. Before they came to our lands we never knew sickness." She looked at Asleena coldly. "Leave now. Your leg is mended and we are done."

Asleena watched the healer stride towards the blight-infected area and Zevran noticed her close her eyes, a frown creasing her brow.

"It feels different to darkspawn," she murmured. "Different to Grey Wardens, too. It's weaker…but it's there." Her eyes opened again, and there was pity in them. "I wonder if Andraste's Ashes could cure them."

"Her temple is a little too far away to test that theory, Asleena."

"I know. I just…wish it were possible to try." She turned away, her face hardening. "Let's see if we can get that guide and look for Ferrix, then pay Sindel a visit."

"Might I suggest getting a replacement sword also? And then what do you intend?"

She glanced at him, a corner of her mouth curving up. "And then, unless you somehow know where Alistair is, we ride on to Starkhaven."