Disclaimer: The characters and places mentioned herein are no property of mine, but of the illustrious Ms Pierce. I also owe more than one piece of wit to Christopher Fry's play The Lady's Not For Burning. It's a brilliant piece of literature, and you should read it. Go on then.

A Note from the Author: Written because I found a spare moment and had no inspiration for any of my chaptered fics. The story is purposefully ambiguous, so please don't complain. You should have everything important figured out by the end, anyway. Cheers!

Only He

Only he saw what happened that night.

Only he saw, and only he knew, and he was the only one who could do anything about it.

He had been the only one to see, after all.

She had come in late, having been gone all day with the Own on a bandit hunt. She didn't like to be inactive; he'd noticed it especially since the end of the war with Scanra. It was as if she didn't know what to do with herself when she didn't have something to keep her busy. Once he'd thought about it, though, the more true it seemed to be. Even when she was a page, and squire, as if she didn't have enough to do just training to be a knight, she'd always had some project, something to fill her time and keep her mind occupied. There was Lalasa, and then there was Tobe, even that damned horse of hers. Perhaps it was her fate, as the Protector of the Small, though he'd never mention as much to her – she tended to still be sensitive about that title and the implications that went with it. And it wasn't that she looked at them as "projects"; she honestly cared for them, but still, he had wondered, sometimes, what she would do when she didn't have a project.

Apparently, she busied herself as much as possible with "knightly duties" and kept clear of anyone who might suggest she was working a little too hard.

And then there was Dom.

Neal supposed he shouldn't have been so surprised to discover their interest in each other – apparently it had been obvious to anyone with eyes for several years. Still, he had been more than slightly astonished the first time he saw them together, making doe eyes at each other and acting like…well, it was a shock, to say the least. Owen (who now considered himself quite the expert, for reasons Neal had yet to figure out) had mocked Neal incessantly for at least a week after Neal had expressed his astonishment to him.

He supposed it was his own fault he hadn't noticed; he'd been too wrapped up in his own world of emotions to notice anyone else's. It was hard, after all, to break off an engagement. At first, he'd been inclined to blame Kel – she had given him the advice that led to the break. However as time wore on, he came to realise it was no one's fault but his own; not Kel's, not Yuki's, just his. And the advice Kel had given him had been meant to heal the rift that had sprung up between him and his betrothed, not to bring an end to their relationship. Kel had been trying to help, as she always did, and she ended up helping in a way she had not meant to at all. She had simply made him realise things he had not been allowing himself to see. After their conversation, it had been the most obvious thing in the world to him that the time had come to end the engagement. It had come as a surprise to everyone else though, even Kel. Everyone else except the other end of the contract – Yuki. Yuki had simply looked at him, and nodded, and spoken very little, and nodded some more, until words were no longer needed, and they both knew that they understood each other. She had kissed his cheek, and left, and never looked back.

He had, though. He'd looked back, and wondered, and agonised, and supposed, and tried to forget, and failed. And he'd been so busy with himself, he hadn't noticed what was going on with Kel, and with his cousin.

At first, he'd wondered if Dom was another project, just another something to keep Kel's inherent inclinations satisfied. And then he realised he was being callous, and that she did in fact care very deeply for Dom, and he began to wonder what would come of it. His cousin was notorious when it came to the ladies, and he hoped fervently that Kel knew what she was doing.

When this train of thought was mentioned to Owen (the expert – Neal really must put some time into discovering the source of Owen's expertise), Owen had told him not to be a dimwit and that Kel always knew what she was doing – she was Kel, after all, and not one to go after something lightly or without thought. Unlike some people, Owen had added, waggling his eyebrows at Neal suggestively. Neal had let the barb pass, and inquired as to how Owen's father-in-law was doing. Was it very hard to be married to a woman of that line? Was Owen's wife as stiff as a stump in bed as her father was when it came to change?

After that discussion, Neal had been forced to avoid Owen for several weeks, and Wyldon as well, as the nature of Owen's retort brought unpleasant images to mind.

And so he'd taken the very good advice that Kel always knows what she is doing and stuff it, dimwit, and stuffed it.

And it wasn't until that night that he regretted having stuffed it.

"Where are you taking Kel, Neal?"

"Out into the air. She needs it."

"Unnecessary. She's in the air already. The room's full of it."

Neal glared at Owen, who, being the expert that he was, probably knew perfectly well where he was taking Kel and why, and told him, in not very polite terms, to go away. Owen just smiled virtuously at Neal and allowed his wife to escort him to the drink table, because if he had enough ale, she just might convince him to dance with her, and she would not be the only woman besides her mother whose husband refused to dance with her at a court ball.

Neal, meanwhile, had dragged Kel out into the adjacent garden, away from the lights and music of the festivities, and given her a good look.

"Listen, if you just tell me now, it'll make things a whole lot easier for the both of us."

"Tell you what?" Kel wouldn't look at him.

"Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong." She was fiddling with the fringe on her velvet tunic and still refused to meet his eyes.

"Don't give me that. You think I haven't known you long enough not to see through that 'I am stone' face you have on? What's the matter? What's happened?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Neal."

"Was it the bandits? Did something happen out there today?"

"No."

"Great Mithros, it's not Peachblossom again, is it? I swear, the amount of time and worry you spend on that unmannerly, misbegotten – "

"One might say the same of you, Sir Queenscove."

"Don't try to change the subject."

"I wasn't."

"Kel…"

"What?"

He threw up his hands in frustration. If she would just talk to him… "It's Dom, isn't it?"

She just looked at him, her face smooth and unreadable in the scant light.

He sighed heavily. "Fine, don't tell me. Just remember, I'm here, if you ever decide to give up this stoic warrior thing and actually admit you have emotions."

"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about. Let's go back in, shall we? It's chilly out here."

He followed her back in, wondering if she'd ever tell him.

Wondering if she even knew herself.

The next day, he resolved to do something about it himself.

He wasn't sure what he'd do, or how he'd do it. He wasn't even sure what he was doing something about to begin with. All he knew was that he had to do something about it.

And so he did.

And then he went for tea with Kel. She served delicious green tea, something he'd become addicted to because of Yuki, but hadn't ever managed to master the art of making it himself. It seemed a very complicated process for a cup of tea anyway, and he was just glad Kel knew what she was doing.

Unfortunately, instead of a friendly one-on-one chat as Neal had been expecting when he arrived at her chambers, he found Raoul and Buri there as well. And it seemed Kel was expecting Dom in addition, which put a spoke in Neal's wheel. Apparently, Dom had been in the garden outside Kel's suite of rooms, doing some weeding for her. When Neal arrived, Kel smiled, and asked him to fetch his cousin.

"Go out and tell Dom to come in. It's raining."

"I can't. I've killed him."

Kel smiled benignly at Neal and repeated her request. "Call Dom please, Neal dear."

"I can't, dearest. I've killed him."

"Yes, yes, nevermind, Neal. Please just tell Dom to come in."

Buri, who had begun to peer out the window at Neal's words, spoke up. "Is that Dom there, lying in the flower-bed?"

Raoul joined her at the window. "Yes, that's him, lying on the ground in the rain. What does he think he's doing?"

"He's probably not thinking much at all right now," Neal said apologetically. "He is dead, you know. And what a fight! He went hurtling into the daffodils in the end."

Kel supressed a sigh. Neal, it seemed, would never fail to find the oddest things to say. She might as well go along with him, for the moment. Perhaps he would explain. "Why, Neal, have you killed your cousin, and left him lying out in the rain?"

"If you truly love him, it shouldn't matter whether he is wet or dry. And how was I supposed to know it was going to rain?"

Raoul exchanged a look with Kel and went out into the garden. Buri returned to the window and reported to Kel, "Dom isn't dead, he's lying on his back picking daffodils. And now he's speaking with Raoul. And now he's getting up…"

Dom and Raoul came into the room, dripping rainwater, Dom shooting glares at Neal. He was carrying a bunch of soggy daffodils, which he handed to Kel. And for the rest of the afternoon, Kel couldn't convince either of them to tell her what they'd quarreled about.

She tried again with Dom, that night, but he just kissed her, and told her it was nothing. Neal had been overly dramatic, that was nothing new, and that they'd both have forgotten all about it by the next day if she'd just let it be.

And so she let it be. And the relationship between Neal and Dom seemed no different than before the mysterious episode, except that they occasionally had heated, whispered conversations and refused to tell Kel what they discussed at those times.

It was several months later that Kel began to wonder what she was doing. It was an odd sensation for her, because she usually knew exactly what she was doing, and what she planned on doing next, and how everything would turn out, satisfactory or not.

With Dom, however, things were entirely different. One moment she felt he was promising her forever and eternity, and the next, she felt as if the next day itself was in jeopardy. At first she did nothing, but eventually, she realised she needed to talk. And so she went and found Neal.

"Would you like your revenge?" she asked him once she'd found him.

"What are you talking about?" he queried, somewhat alarmed. Kel looked grim, and her mouth was set as if she were steeling herself for battle.

"I want to complain to you about my love life, and then you can give me advice that will result in my ending the relationship, and we'll be even."

Neal's eyes widened. "Look, Kel," he said firmly. "It wasn't your advice that ended my relationship with Yuki. It was any number of other things, most of which had nothing to do with you. Now, what's the problem with Dom?"

Kel told him, in as much detail as she could manage, about how she felt the relationship was stuck in some sort of proverbial rut, and how uncertain she felt about nearly everything at the moment. Neal listened attentively, interrupting very little for once, and eventually offering the best advice he thought he could give.

"You shouldn't end the relationship," he told her, trying not to choke on the words. "I think you just expect too much." Kel opened her mouth to argue, but he held up a hand to stop her. "Not of love, not in the long run, but for the moment, I think you need to give what you have with Dom some more time. Or perhaps as time goes by…perhaps you'll realise that you want…other things. But for now, give the fellow some time."

Kel studied Neal's face; there was something there he was not telling her, something important, but she couldn't for the life of her tell what it was.

It was exactly one week later when she realised what Neal had been trying so hard not to say. She sat straight up in bed, shook Dom awake, and confronted him.

She told him everything she'd been feeling lately, and asked what exactly he thought they were doing. When he shrugged, she almost felt vindicated. Almost.

But she'd had a hand in it too, and on top of that, she still wasn't sure what to do about Dom.

"Do you think this isn't working?" he asked her, blue eyes boring into her own.

Kel swallowed. "I know that I don't like the uncertainty of whether this will go anywhere. I don't like seeing you, seeing us, that way."

Dom blinked, surprised at her response. He was becoming slightly angry now, what did want from him, anyhow? "Well, would you rather not see me at all?" he asked, not bothering to keep his hostility from his voice.

Kel stared; she hadn't been expecting that either. "I think I wouldn't." With that, she got up and left the room, and walked with purpose down several corridors until she ended up in front of the door she knew fate had brought her to.

Only she couldn't bring herself to knock. She stood there in the dark hallway, trying not to cry. She never cried. She never…

The door opened. It was as if he had known she was there, standing outside his room in the middle of the night, waiting for him to come to the door.

As the door swung away from her and his face appeared, a single tear slipped from her eye, just enough to remind them both that she was not, in fact, made of stone.

And Neal opened his arms to her, and she slid into them, and for a moment he just held her, and they both knew, in that moment, that they were exactly where they were supposed to be, and that nothing else mattered.

And he kissed her, and he poured everything he had felt over the past year into her: love, pain, disappointment, hope, jealously, fear, rage, lust, agony, joy, betrayal, faith…every emotion related to her in any way, shape, or form.

He filled her with himself, and he was all she needed, and she knew that he would be the only one she would ever love like this. He would be the only one she would share her days with, her nights with, her life with.

Only he would have her all.

Only he.

Fin.