It was always these lulls in the action that made Nate feel crazy. When there were darkspawn to kill, crazy elven women to chase down or any other number of maddening things to keep him occupied, he was fine. But once the adrenalin faded, and there was actually time for rest, Nate felt like he was about to fall apart.

This was one of those times.

They chased off the Dalish sorceress back into whatever hole she'd crawled out of, but there wasn't enough time to make it out of the woods before nightfall. Although it was still a few hours before sunset, they'd found a safe, defensible location for a camp and Kya insisted they stop for food and rest. If it had been his choice, they would have pressed on until they couldn't manage to walk anymore. Then when it was his turn to sleep, exhaustion would have blurred the dreams.

He only wished he was dreaming about darkspawn. And he did, on occasion. But the dreams that came from inside his own mind were far worse. The guilt was eating him alive. Kya could tell him all she wanted that it wasn't his fault that his father had nearly destroyed Ferelden in his madness, but Nate still didn't believe her.

He'd looked up to his father like some sort of a god for most of his life, blind to his ambition and his cruelty. But Delilah had forced him to open his eyes and see Rendon Howe without the tint of a son's love for his father. And what he saw with his new eyes made him ill. He would have killed Kya and every last Warden in the Vigil in his blindness. He would have been damned forever.

He wanted Kya to forgive him, but she didn't think he'd done anything wrong. Or so she told him. She said that several of her friends had at one point wanted her dead; the Antivan Crow and Loghain. She clearly didn't hate Loghain, she'd taken him to her bed.

The lucky bastard.Nate Howe might have been conflicted and feeling guilty, but he wasn't dead; not yet anyway.

Instead of inflicting his poor company on the others, Nate stalked off to the nearby stream. When he was a child he loved to find some water to cast a line into, to watch the peaceful water buoy his cork around and watch for the little twitch that signaled a fish had taken the bait. He was hoping that it would help today. But it wasn't helping, not really. Then again, he had no idea what else to do with himself and this was as good an idea as any.

"What are you doing?" Kya's voice came from behind him. He was still enough on alert that he managed not to startle.

"Fishing," he replied. Nice, short reply; one word and a gruff enough tone that hopefully she'd be annoyed and leave him be.

"Oh?" she asked. "How do you do that?"

Nate turned around and looked at her incredulously. "How do I fish? Don't tell me you don't know how."

She rolled her eyes. "Maker's breath, how many times do I have to remind people," she sighed. She pointed to herself. "Mage, tower. You know, no windows and barred doors? They didn't exactly let us out for day trips."

"Isn't the tower on an island in Lake Calenhad?" Nate asked. "You're going to tell me that they never once let you wander along the shore?"

"No," Kya shook her head. "Not without a good reason. I guess I've seen people fishing before. They would let us out for air sometimes, and there were a few Templars that liked to do it. But it's not as if they were friendly enough to show me how."

"Well," Nate replied. "I'll show you then." He had no idea what possessed him to offer. Only moments ago, he'd wanted nothing more than to be left alone. But, just like a battle, this might offer some distraction to his dark thoughts. Any port in a storm.

Kya sidled up alongside him and he realized she wasn't in her armor. It seemed that once they stopped, she couldn't change out of it fast enough. It made him wonder what sort of state she'd been in the night she conscripted him to have still been wearing it.

"I'll warn you," she said. "I'll probably be bad at this."

Nate chuckled. "I don't doubt it." He handed her the length of branch he'd found and tied his line to. She took it gingerly, holding it nearly horizontal. He shook his head, putting his hand over hers and tilting the pole up. "No, like this. Or the fish will get away." He turned his head back towards the water, still helping her support the pole. "Now, just wait and watch the cork. If there is a fish, it will just bob up and down a little."

"Then what?" she said, smirking. "Should hit them with lightning or something?"

"That might be a bit of overkill," he snickered. "How about you just tell me and I'll show you how to set the hook and land the fish."

She looked back over at him and grinned. For a moment her eyes flicked down to where his hand was still over hers. He dropped his hand abruptly and took a step back. He couldn't read the flicker of expression on her face before she quickly turned back to watch the water. Probably mild annoyance and humoring him. He snorted.

"What?" she asked, looking back at him.

He shook his head. "Never mind me," he said. "I . . . um just . . . ." At that moment, a fish chose to take the bait, and Nate caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. "Look," he said pointing at the bobbing cork, thrilled to be saved by good timing.

Kya looked anxious, "And now I?" Nate couldn't help but smile. He'd seen her fight and command. She was a natural at both but looked overwhelmed by the little movements of the cork on the water. He shook his head again, putting his hand over hers again to steady her. She still seemed unsure, so he moved his arm around her so both his hands were over hers where they gripped the branch, guiding her movements.

"Here," he said. "Like this."

With a good deal of laughter, they managed to lift the little trout half out of the water before it wriggled its way off the hook, splashing back into the stream. Little droplets of water flew through the air, splattering them both. Kya laughed and turned her head back to look at him.

"See, this is why they don't let mages go fishing," she said. "They all . . . ." The tempo of her words slowed abruptly. Her face was close enough to his that he could feel her breath on his skin. The reasonable part of Nate's brain was screaming at him to let go but he couldn't seem to will himself to move. "They all . . . get away," Kya managed to finish. She swallowed and her breathing seemed labored.

"It just . . . ," Nate stuttered. "Takes practice."

And Maker damn him, but her hair smelled like wildflowers and Maker damn him again if he wasn't still a man. He hadn't spent his years in the Free Marches chasing skirts, but not because he was chaste and decent. Mostly because he was entirely too particular and homesick for Ferelden women. And finally, after what had been entirely too long without touching a woman, his ridiculousness had him all bothered over a woman he shouldn't even want and clearly couldn't have.

As if the fact that she was his commander wasn't enough, there was Loghain Mac Tir to think about. Nate had a feeling he could hardly compare to the Hero of River Dane.

But Kya made no move to pull away, just stared at him. She bit her lip.

"What in the sod are you two doing?" Oghren's booming voice interrupted their ogling. Nate stumbled back and without his support, the branch fell out of Kya's hands on to the ground. Kya was blushing – of all things.

"Nate was . . . ," she started and cleared her throat. "Teaching me how to fish."

Oghren gave them a sidelong look. "So that's what they call it these days?" he sniggered. "I'll have to remember that one." Then he gave them both a leering wink and lumbered off again. Nate could hear him laughing to Anders and heard some equally disgusting comment about a velvet helmet. Nate closed his eyes, mortified.

He opened them again to hear Kya chuckling. "We should go back before Oghren has Anders in a tizzy," she said.

"Yes," Nate replied, reminded of Anders' not so subtle warnings. "Sound plan."

And good little soldier that he was, Nate followed Kya back to their makeshift camp trying very hard to remind himself not to watch the swaying of her hips and failing rather miserably.

The look Anders gave him was wary, but not threatening, when he saw the vaguely amused expression in Kya's eyes. Anders quickly grabbed her and laid his head in her lap, acting coy. Kya indulged him; she always did. Nate wondered exactly how Anders got away with it.

They managed to get through dinner without bickering at each other which was a pleasant change of pace, but Kya shot him a few strange looks. Nate had the urge to flee, but kept his head. If he could face darkspawn, he could deal with this, whatever this was. He hoped.

Eventually the sun set and Anders drifted off to sleep still pillowed in Kya's lap. She extracted herself out from underneath him, draping a blanket across the mage's narrow shoulders and creeping around the fire to sit closer to Nate. Oghren too fell asleep, snoring intermittently and occasionally laughing. The dwarf was odd, to say the least.

Even though she was right next to him, he kept his eyes focused on the dancing flames of the fire. Trying to think of something to do with his hands, he reached back and untied the paired braids behind his head and started to unweave the strands of hair. He snuck a glance over at Kya and found her staring at him with a strange, wistful look on her face. He stopped half way through the braid, dropping his hands back into his lap.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, looking back at the fire.

"For what?" Kya asked. At first he didn't reply and he felt the touch of her fingers against his shoulder. "What are you sorry for?"

Nate sighed. "For a lot of things; for breaking into the Vigil, for wanting to kill you, for being completely wrong about everything," he paused. "For what happened at the creek."

He heard her take a deep breath. "Well," she said softly. "You don't need to apologize. Not for any of those things."

Nate still couldn't look at her. He felt the fool for all of it, whether she thought any of it merited an apology or not. He also felt . . . a lot more than he should have about her in general. Whatever compassion he could trick himself into thinking she might have felt for him, she'd told him bluntly that his life was spared for practical purposes. And she was right to have done it for that reason. Any other reason for sparing him was irrational; and Kya Amell didn't seem the irrational sort.

He expected the uncomfortable silence. What he didn't expect was feeling her fingers in his hair, finishing what he'd started. Swiftly, her fingers untangled his braid. Once it was done, she made a small sound, halfway between a chuckle and a sob. Nate looked up at her. She was staring at him again, this time her eyes glittering wetly in the flickering light.

"What is it?" he asked.

She gave him a sad smile. "It was just familiar, that's all," she said without much of an explanation. She cocked her head at him. "You should take the other braid out too," she continued. "It looks nice."

"Gets in my eyes," he said, but his sharp tone was forced.

"I don't think that's a serious problem at the moment, do you?" she said.

"I suppose not," he replied. He took up the other braid obediently and unraveled it. He raked his hands through his hair, tucking the loose strands behind his ears. "Better?"

"Yes," she smiled, but still cheerless. "Very nice."

Nate shook his head at her. "I really don't need to be humored."

"What are you talking about?" she asked. She did sound genuinely confused, which was clearly nonsense. She was there with him earlier, seeing his suddenly inability to speak when he found her inadvertently in his arms. He might be subtle with his fighting skills, but other forms of subtly escaped him entirely. His siblings had tormented him about it most of his life until he'd learned that saying less was the more effective course of action.

He shook his head again. "Nothing."

"Andraste's white arse," she muttered. "Fine, be like that. Maker, you're as bad as Loghain."

"Am I?" he asked, looking at her through his hair that had fallen back in front of his eyes again.

"Yes," she sighed. "If I didn't know better I'd think he was your father, not Rendon."

Nate raised an eyebrow at her. "I'm not quite sure how to take that."

"Well," she said, frowning now. "I guess it's a backwards sort of compliment."

"Hm," he said quietly. "I suppose I can live with that."