After their hike was finished, Diana tried to keep herself very busy for the rest of the day - and the next few days after that. Guilt slammed into her every time she saw Cullen wave at her from across the sanctuary and every time he sat down next to her at a meal. They still had occasional conversations, of course, she couldn't dodge those, but she worked very hard to stay busy so they couldn't go on their customary walks.

Using people was wrong. Manipulating them was wrong, too. Was it possible she had been unintentionally doing both to Cullen, who had been, quite frankly, the best friend she had had since the Inquisition ended?

Her sensible head told her no, she hadn't been. She genuinely enjoyed his company… and it seemed like he enjoyed hers, too. But the clenching in her stomach and the fear fluttering like lightning in her heart told her… maybe. The rational thoughts were swept away by the thunderstorm of anxiety.

It was frustrating.

She knew that she wasn't using Cullen to soothe her bad feelings. She knew she wasn't manipulating him. She knew that she genuinely enjoyed his company. But there was a disconnect between her brain and her very fearful, guilty-feeling heart. No matter how many times she tried to assure herself that she wasn't using him, a tiny ' But what if you are?' escaped from the furthest corners of her mind and sent her spiraling back down into feeling guilty.

She spent her days feeling restless, her feet urging her to move. When she sat, her legs bounced with pent-up energy. Go. Go. Run. Leave.

It seemed her distress was noticeable. One night after a long walk in the hot sun (and then a bath afterward to clean off the day's sweat and grime), Diana looked up to see Flora leaning against her doorway.

"Knock, knock," the mage said, holding up a comb and some strips of cord. "I was wondering if I could braid your hair."

"That's a strange request," Diana said, forcing a smile. Go. Run. Leave.

Flora shrugged, pushing her long dark hair over her shoulders. "I need to practice and Sandrine won't let me touch her hair. She complains my braids are too tight. May I?"

The former Inquisitor nodded, standing from her bed. Flora took the space that Diana had been occupying, while Diana pulled up a stool and sat between Flora's knees. Soon the mage was dividing the sections of Diana's hair with nimble, practiced hands.

"I haven't seen much of you lately. Spending time on your own?" Flora asked, tying off a portion of Diana's wet, black curls. "We missed you at breakfast today. And lunch. And dinner."

Diana frowned. "I know. I've been… busy."

"Okay," Flora said simply, her voice pleasant and soft as she worked on Diana's hair.

Then it was quiet in Diana's bedroom, with only the soft noises of their breath and the gentle breeze coming through her bedroom window. For a long time they were both silent, Flora focusing on the task of braiding Diana's thick hair and Diana herself focusing on working up the courage to speak.

"I have-" her voice cracked. Diana cleared her throat, then tried again. "I have a problem."

"What is it?" Flora didn't sound surprised, but Diana couldn't see her face to learn if her expression matched her voice.

"I keep having these thoughts," she began, trying to stay vague in her explanation. "I know they're not true, but I can't stop the thoughts. How… do I stop them?"

Flora was quiet for a while. "You want to know the truth?" Diana gave a small nod, feeling her hair being tugged by Flora as she did so. "Keep still. You don't stop the thoughts."

"Oh."

"In my experience," Flora continued, her voice casual as if they were merely talking about the weather. "The more you try to not think about something or not feel something, the more you actually feel or think it. The thoughts are going to happen until one day they don't. And until that day, we can't stop them, we can only change how how we react and how much power we give them."

Well. Frankly, that wasn't the answer she had been wanting. Diana wasn't sure what she had expected Flora to say, but it hadn't been that. She was wanting a quick fix, a simple instruction to stop her intrusive thoughts.

"Whenever that thought comes into your head, I want you to try and listen to it. Don't fight it. And then I want you to respond to yourself in your head, even if that seems silly," she added the last bit because apparently she had somehow noticed Diana had opened her mouth to protest. "Think, 'I know this is not true. I know this thought is not rational and it's okay that I'm having it, but I know it isn't true.' and then try to accept it. And if that thought keeps coming, keep responding the same way."

Diana stayed quiet. That seemed like something that wouldn't work. But for her sake - and for her relationship with Cullen- she had to try.

Flora didn't push for details about the intrusive thoughts. The dark-skinned mage just kept working, deftly pulling strand over strand of Diana's hair tightly over her knuckles. When she was done, she pulled out two hand mirrors and angled them in a wayso that Diana could evaluate her elaborate, five-strand braid.

"Thanks. It looks wonderful," Diana said, genuinely pleased as Flora headed for the door.

"Anytime," Flora assured her, then hesitated in the doorway for a moment. "Diana, I think Cullen might think you're avoiding him. Specifically, him. I'm not asking you to do anything or say anything to him, just telling you for your own information."

And then, without waiting for Diana to respond, Flora left.

She stood there for a few seconds, watching the now-empty space where the mage had once stood. Of course Cullen thought that Diana was avoiding him. She had been avoiding him. Guilt sunk into her stomach and this time she knew it was a rational guilt, a guilt she had to do something about.

Diana didn't know what she was going to say to Cullen. He would be satisfied with the truth - and be nonjudgmental - but it was hard to find the words. An hour ago her feet couldn't stop moving and now she couldn't make them move.

Eventually, she sat down to write a letter.

Dear Cullen,

I'm sorry for my absence in the last few days.

This seems so strange to write out, but I had somehow convinced myself that I was manipulating you and using you because I feel better when I'm around you. It's been a very long time since I've been anywhere near happy with anyone and I thought I might be accidentally using you for that instead of appreciating you and wanting to be with you because of who you are as-

She stopped, crumpled the paper up, and threw it into a small bin in the corner. It was too rambling.

Diana tried again. When that letter didn't work, she tried again. And again and again. Deep into the late night, she tried to write a letter that adequately explained how he made her feel and how she had questioned the authenticity of her feelings, but nothing seemed right.

A sigh of frustration escaped her lips and she looked out of her bedroom window. A light caught her eye. Across the property, she could see the soft flicker of candle light in a window. The source was the building that housed Cullen's office and room.

She sighed again before reluctantly getting to her feet and leaving her quarters, walking across the grounds slowly.

John was on guard duty, apparently; he very nearly ran into her as he rounded a corner. "What're you doing up?" he asked her suspiciously, then followed her line of vision. His gaze settled on the light in Cullen's quarters and then he smiled wickedly. "Oh, I see."

"No, you don't. And you didn't. Didn't see me," Diana said, the words tumbling out of her mouth in a near-stammer. She cleared her throat. "Right?"

John just laughed, then continued walking. "Right," he said, giving her a wave over his shoulder as he continued to follow the perimeter of the sanctuary. "Get going."

She didn't waste any time, then, and soon found herself in front of the elaborate, lion-patterned door of Cullen's office. The window that looked into the office was dark. Figuring that he must be in his quarters, she continued to walk around the edge of the building until she came upon a less ornate looking entrance. A window near the door bloomed with light.

Diana knocked.