December 18th, evening


"I counted eight bruises," Nevena announced. She walked in from the bedroom to the main living area and Cullen glanced up from where he was in the midst of cooking. She zipped her hooded top up over her flimsy pyjama tank and tugged her damp hair out of the back of it.

Since they had returned from Edgehall - taking the drive very slowly given the treacherous terrain - they had both showered and changed into warm, dry clothing. While Nevena had her shower, Cullen started cooking - more out of habit than any necessity. Cooking was a focus. It gave him something to concentrate on.

They had yet to speak about what happened in the cable car, and if Cullen was honest he didn't much want to. But he could feel the unspoken conversation hanging over them like a storm cloud. There was no easy way to approach the topic. No easy way to explain what happened. Cullen was not eager to divulge his past to anyone, let alone a woman who was a client. Now he felt he was obligated to. He owed her an explanation given that the panic attack was his fault anyway. He should have known better.

"What're you making?" Nevena leaned on the on the counter to Cullen's right examining the contents of a casserole dish he found while searching through the kitchen cupboards.

"I thought stew would be good. Given how cold it's become. Typical winter warmer." Cullen did not look at her as he gathered up a handful of diced pork and dropped it into the dish with the other ingredients already in there. "Unless you'd like something else?"

"No." Nevena moved out of the way. "I'll eat pretty much whatever is put in front of me."

Cullen smiled to himself, "Good to know."

They fell into a somewhat relaxed silence. He was aware of her watching him while he continued to prepare different raw ingredients and dropped them into the dish. He mixed after each addition. Nevena sniffed a few of the condiments he had out on the kitchen counter. He could practically feel the question she wanted to ask hanging in the air. Invisible to her. A blaring, neon sign to him.

"So-"

"How many bruises did you count?"

Cullen wiped his hands on the dish towel he was using as a make-shift apron. He tilted a brow and looked at her, puzzled.

"You said in the car, we should compare."

"That's right," Cullen nodded. "I did." He paused and leaned against the counter. "Only counted five. Though the one from where I fell on my side is impressive."

"I bet." Nevena scooted away from the kitchen towards the dining table allowing Cullen to place the dish in the oven and leave it to cook through. He deposited the dish towel on the counter, washed his hands, and readied himself for the explanation he would need to give.

Words ran through his head. He wondered where, exactly, he should start? How much detail did he need to give? What about time scale or time frame? He ruffled a hand through his hair as he turned towards the dining table and Nevena sitting in a chair with her legs tucked up to her chest, her chin resting on her knees.

"I feel bad," Nevena blurted out, speaking again before Cullen had an opportunity.

"Oh?"

"You've cooked what, twice?" She looked at him.

"I like cooking," Cullen explained. He crossed to the table and sat in the chair opposite hers. "It keeps me distracted and it's kind of calming. It's nice to create something and enjoy it."

"I guess." Nevena tilted her head to one side. Her hair spilled over her shoulders and she pursed her lips. "I am not a very good cook. Ineria can make whatever she turns her hand to, as long as she has enough prep time. I can just about cook scrambled eggs without messing it up."

"I haven't cooked for someone else in a long time," Cullen remarked. He met Nevena's eyes across the table and gave a lop-sided smile. "It's nice. To share that with someone again."

She beamed, "Well - I'm glad I'm the one who gets to share it. Who taught you?"

"My parents." Cullen shrugged his shoulders. "They taught all of us. My sisters and my brother. Beats spending money on take out all the time."

"I can imagine."

Silence began to settle again, longer than before. The quaint small talk about food and cooking put them both at ease for the duration of the conversation. But now with the silence dragging, the atmosphere was growing tense once more. Nevena shuffled in her chair. She raked her fingers back through her hair and gave a little cough to clear her throat. She looked like she wanted to speak but was struggling to find the words. Cullen did not want to speak, but knew what he should say.

He shifted in his own seat trying to disguise his unease as an attempt to get comfortable. He drummed his fingers on the table once. Twice. "Don't you..." he began. Nevena's gaze snapped to him. He suddenly wished there was music, or some kind of ambient noise. It would make talking so much easier. He took a breath, pretending not to feel his stomach clench. "Why aren't you asking about..." He scratched the back of his neck. "About what happened?"

"Because I had a thought," Nevena's expression softened and warmed. She smiled, a gentle, sincere smile, which caused dimples to appear in her cheeks.

"You had a thought?" repeated Cullen.

"In the shower."

"In... the shower?" He frowned, slightly bemused.

Nevena chuckled, "Don't knock it. It's where I do my best thinking."

"I believe you." Cullen leaned forward to rest his arms on the table. "And what was this thought?"

She took a deliberate breath and mimicked him, dropping her legs to the floor and perching her arms of the edge of the table. "You don't have to tell me. If you don't want to," she said. Cullen stared at her, sure he misheard.

"I'm sorry?"

"I thought about it," Nevena explained. "And I know you said you would tell me what happened, why you had a panic attack. But I decided I don't need to know. You can tell me, if you want. But it's totally your choice. No pressure from me." She teased a lock of hair behind her ear. "Honestly, I'm just glad you're okay. That's what matters. That's what is most important to me."

Cullen's chest tightened. She was so sincere, so earnest. This wasn't some kind of ploy or plot to get him to tell her things. There was no deceit in her face, or her voice. Her sentiments were genuine. Her concern and the words she said were honest. Her focus was him. Not the history, just him, and whether he was alright. Whether he was calmer and the worst has passed. Cullen couldn't remember the last time someone put him before themselves and he felt a smile come to his lips. He contemplated reaching across the table and taking her hand in a show of gratitude, but thought better of it. He did not want to make things awkward or confusing. Not when the air between them was now so calm and relaxed.

"Thank you," Cullen said after letting her words sink in for a few moments. "I appreciate it."

"No problem." Nevena leaned back in her chair and her hands were now out of reach. Even if Cullen wanted to take her hand to show his appreciation in a gesture, it was no longer possible. "I am glad you're okay..." A blush rose to her cheeks and she avoided his gaze. "Kind of scared me for a bit there."

Cullen leaned further across the table, "I'm sorry. I should have told you about the claustrophobia."

"It wasn't necessary. But at least I know for the future to avoid cramped spaces."

"Imagine if we'd been on a first date and it happened." Cullen remarked, rubbing a hand over his chin and then the back of his neck.

"It would probably go on record as the worst first date ever..." she laughed and looked him up and down, "I'd still be amenable to a second date, though."

"Good to know I'd have a second chance to make a first impression."

"You might even get a third, if you're lucky." Nervous laughter followed Nevena's words. Her blush spread up to her forehead and down her neck making her look almost sunburnt.

He watched her pull her hair over one shoulder, beginning to style it into a thick braid. His chest still ached from the trapped sensation the panic attack brought. Even though she said he was under no obligation to tell her the reason for his panic attack, he wanted to. Her kindness made him more determined to be honest, and give her all the details. Details he had not really told anyone, beyond his family and one other person. The truth weighed heavy in his stomach. A weight that would not shift until he cleared the air.

"Nevena..." Cullen murmured her name. He rose from one chair and moved to another that was closer to her. Nevena watched him do so and threw her half finished braid over her shoulder. "I know you said I didn't have to tell you..."

"Mhm?"

"What if I want to?" He looked her dead in the eye and tried to keep his expression still and impassive. He did not want to show just how much talking about the past would mean to him. How much it might help him. He did not want to frighten or overwhelm her. Nevena was a client, and given the growing familiarity between them, he considered her a friend. If he told her, then it would be a secret he no longer needed to carry around. It would be a burden shared and perhaps halved.

Nevena inched closer and turned her body towards him, giving her full attention, "Then by all means."

Cullen's lips twitched into a small smile. "Okay." He ran his hands through his hair. "I... guess... I'm not sure." He hummed thoughtfully for a moment. All the things he wanted to say before having now scattered from his mind. "Let me start with some history." He nodded to himself, as if telling himself that was the best place to start. "Is that okay?"

"Sure," Nevena nodded. "Whatever will help."

"I told you when we first met that I work in sports and rehabilitation therapy," He began. "Do you remember that?"

"Mhm-hm," Nevena nodded. "You mentioned that a lot of your work is with people learning to walk again after an accident. Sometimes military veterans who were seriously injured in service."

"Not sometimes," Cullen said. "Almost all the time." He chewed the inside of his bottom lip for a moment before continuing. "I consider it as my way of giving back. I was in the army from nineteen until I retired at twenty-eight."

"Okay..." Nevena pursed her lips. "Nineteen seems so young."

Cullen shrugged, "I was in the cadets when I was a child. All I ever wanted to do was protect people. I considered the police for a long time, but it never sat right with me. It wasn't what I wanted to do. So, I enlisted and began my military career. I showed promise. After a year I was selected for..." He leaned back, letting the word drag as he thought how best to phrase his thoughts. "I guess you'd call it a specialized squad, known as T.E.M.P.L.A.R.s."

"TEMPLARs?" Nevena quirked a brow.

"It's an acronym. The full name is Tactical Emergency Management and Passive Local Area Recon," explained Cullen settling back into his chair. "Basically, we would go into areas under attack from infighting or guerrilla warfare, deal with it, and then spend however much time necessary trying to help the locals rebuild. For the first year I was with them, I was stationed in Kinloch. You know it?"

"Vaaaguely."

"I was stationed during right before the revolution, mostly to keep watch and assist if necessary. Our presence was just to keep the peace as much as was possible, and deal with any unrest without force. We were there to help with the security for construction of buildings lost in earlier terrorist attacks and for protection of civilians." Slowly Cullen clasped his hands together and stared at them. "We were there because there was some ongoing political unrest. Two factions - Resolutionists and Loyalists - going at each other with whatever they could find. Kinloch was under the leadership of the Loyalist political faction, but a large amount of people disagreed with their choices and those in charge. Resolutionists wanted things changed, they wanted to be in power and... would bring down those that opposed them by any means necessary. Before we got there, there had been repeated attacks on schools and hospitals, as well as residential areas. As emergency response, we cleared out the extremists who were responsible for the attacks and stayed to help maintain stability."

Nevena's chair squeaked on the floor when she inched it closer. "What happened?"

"We thought the two factions had quieted down due to our presence. We thought things were under control." Cullen breathed to steady himself. "We were caught unawares by infiltrators-Resolutionists who blended in to the community we were trying to help rebuild and protect. Car bombs and IEDs were set off in precise locations, effectively corralling innocent people and my own teammates. We were rounded up. They tried to convert civilians to their cause. Those who conformed, lived. Those who didn't were slaughtered. Us, the military, some of us were held for ransom. Some were killed as examples. Some were tortured and left to die. I... saw a lot of my friends killed in front of me. To the Resolutionists, we were part of the problem."

"Oh, Cullen..." Nevena reached across and took his hands.

"With a couple of other surviving TEMPLARs, I was able to gather up a few remaining civilian prisoners and tried to help them escape. Someone informed on us, and we were, captured. As I was an instigator they made an example of me." Recounting the history brought up the smells and sounds again. Fresh. As though he were there all over again. He closed his eyes to try and centre himself, concentrating on his words. "I was... beaten, tortured. I saw my friends, those I'd tried to help, gunned down without remorse. They kept me alive - just -locked in a cell with no windows and one way out. They denied me sleep, tried to break my will, my mind. I... I don't know what they wanted. They never told me. "

"You're shaking." Nevena was closer when Cullen opened his eyes. He was quivering from head-to-foot. Funny how he hadn't realised it. "Cullen, it's okay." She tentatively touched his cheek and turned his head so he looked at her. It was a gesture that was almost tender in its intimacy. "You don't have to go on. I understand."

"Let me." He turned his body to face her completely. Their knees were touching and Cullen held her hands in his. "I don't know how long it was, but eventually re-enforcements came. They were able to end the occupation of Kinloch and I was freed from the prison. After that I... I struggled for a long time. I still wanted to serve and do good. This was what I always wanted to do since my childhood, after all."

He fell silent. His breathing was quicker and his heart raced. His clothing stuck to his skin with the cold sweat breaking out all over him. He felt sick and his throat was dry. He swallowed to dampen it and winced with the effort it took to do just that. He was safe. It was all a memory and it was in the past. He was in no immediate danger and he needed to remember that.

"After a brief recovery I was reassigned to another TEMPLARs' squads. This time in Kirkwall, in the Free Marches."

"I know it," Nevena murmured. "Our family came from Ostwick, originally. I grew up there."

Cullen smiled weakly. She was trying to be supportive and trying to relieve the severity of the conversation and what he was telling her. He appreciated that attempt at normality. "I still wanted to serve. I still wanted to protect and keep people safe. I thought I could. But my... My experiences in Kinloch tainted that desire. I was tarnished and broken. Kirkwall was worse than Kinloch; anti-religious fanatics and so called 'freedom fighters' wanted to make a point against the Mothers of the Chantry. Admittedly, some of the Mothers were questionable – stirring up racist fears, bringing legitimate businesses under fire because they would not give to the Chantry a percentage of what they made. After Kinloch, my own faith was… shaken. I believed in the Andrastian way, but not as strongly as I once did. I saw danger around every corner, and my commanding officer, Meredith Stannard, only fed my paranoia. I rose up the ranks and followed her every order without question." He sighed. "Until..."

He stopped. Meredith's face appeared in his mind. The sharp angles, the near constant frown, piercing blue eyes and white blonde hair. She was always an imposing woman but towards the end she was more haggard and worn.

"Until...?" Nevena prompted.

"Meredith lost sight of what the TEMPLARs were meant to do. Protect, and rebuild. I almost lost sight of it too."

"But you didn't?"

"I didn't." Cullen ran one hand through his hair and rubbed his fingers down his face. "A single man caused untold destruction in Kirkwall. He rigged the Kirkwall Grand Cathedral with explosives. One of the leading religious figures, Grand Cleric Ethina, was killed in the blast, along with hundreds of other members of the Chantry. Hundreds more innocent civilians were killed in the aftermath by other looters and rioters and falling debris. Everyone was looking for someone else to blame."

"I remember that," Nevena breathed. "It was all over the news. You were there?"

"I was there," he nodded slowly. "I was there and was almost complicit in the massacre of innocents because they were there. There was no excuse for what Meredith called for, they were peaceful protestors." Cullen shifted uncomfortably. "He was peaceful for a long time too. He organized protests and wrote endless letters to try and plead his case. But no one would listen. I didn't listen. His attacking the Chantry was the last act of a desperate man."

"What do you mean you were almost complicit?"

"Meredith ordered the TEMPLARs under her command to round up the protestors. She wanted them to be held accountable for his actions... I refused. I disobeyed a direct order and questioned her leadership because when I looked around, I saw frightened people. People who were terrified and being blamed as a whole for the act of one person," Cullen shook his head at the memory and scoffed. "That wasn't what I wanted. That wasn't what the TEMPLARs were supposed to be. They were meant to help people. Keep the peace. Protect those who couldn't protect themselves. Meredith wanted us to be executioners."

"So," Nevena still held one of his hands and squeezed it. "What happened?"

"My questioning Meredith caused others to do the same. She was forcibly removed from her position and authority and detained until someone of higher ranking could deal with her. As her appointed Captain, command fell to me. So, I reminded the TEMPLARs of their duty to protect."

"That's good though, right?" queried Nevena, her tone uncertain. "You did the right thing?"

"Too little, too late," Cullen said with a bitter growl to his voice. He got to his feet and began to walk a small path back and forth between the counter and the table. "Even as we tried to rally ourselves, there was pandemonium no matter what direction you turned. At one point, I came across a collapsed building with people inside. Debris from the explosion caved in the roof. I tried to get the people trapped inside out but the building was unstable around them and with me trying to move things..." He stopped pacing to lean on the counter over the sink. He hung his head and rubbed the back of his neck where it was starting to ache.

Nevena came and stood beside him. She said nothing, simply waited. He admired her drive to hear him out. In the past he'd never gotten quite this far. He always stopped, finding he couldn't face the truth about the person he once was. How close he came to being like the people who captured and tortured him.

"The house collapsed on top of me," he said after a few minutes pause. "The rubble was too heavy to move on my own... The… The people I tried to save were crushed. I heard them screaming as the building came down." Another dragging silence where the only sound was his breathing. "I don't even know how long I was trapped. I believed I was going to die there. In a tiny space barely big enough for me to move my arms."

"Someone found you?"

"A relief effort came… I'm not sure how long it was before they arrived. Days? Maybe even weeks. When they found me I was weak, dehydrated, and delusional. I spent days in hospital recovering from the trauma and the shock... Once I was considered healthy enough, There was a hearing to answer questions about the situation. It was a formal hearing and I was questioned about my decision to remove Meredith from command. The hearing was found in my favour: that relieving Meredith of her position when her judgement was so impaired was the only sensible course of action at the time, and that I had done as much as I could to relieve the tensions. I was medically retired and given a commendation for my part in aiding Kirkwall immediately following the explosion." He drummed his fingers on the metal sink. "I never felt more ashamed or undeserving of anything in my entire life."

"Why?" Nevena asked. He looked at her and saw the confusion on her face. "They clearly believed you deserved it."

"A last minute change of heart is the only reason I have a medal and those honours," he replied fighting to keep the anger from his voice but glaring at his reflection in the window over the sink. "I didn't deserve anything except to be forgotten and to disappear into obscurity."

"That isn't true." She took his hand again. "Cullen, you did good things before Kirkwall. You survived torture and yet you still wanted to do good things and protect people. You made mistakes, but to make mistakes is to be human."

"Not when those mistakes cost lives."

Her grip tightened. "You blame yourself, don't you?" She said meeting his gaze when he looked squarely at her. "For the deaths of the people in Kirkwall? In Kinloch? Survivors guilt?"

"I thought I was all right." Cullen told her, his voice growing hoarse with the emotion he was trying to keep under control and leaving her question unanswered. "For years I lived with nightmares of Kinloch. And then I had more nightmares of Kirkwall. I thought they were nothing, that they would pass. I believed the days of not sleeping until I was too exhausted to stay awake were normal. I would see my friends' faces. The faces of people I trained with and considered as close to me as family. The people I failed to save. I would hear them. I still hear them, even now. It didn't even occur to me until much later that I carried the effects of being trapped with me either. When I got stuck in a lift and had my first panic attack..." He managed to laugh. "I thought I was going to die."

"I'm sorry..." Nevena sighed. "That you went through... everything."

Cullen cleared his throat and shifted his weight uncomfortably. "I was kind of lost for a while afterwards. I was depressed, and I isolated myself until I got help and decided to give back. I came to the conclusion that I wouldn't waste away. The military was all I ever knew, and I wanted to do something to try and give back. It's why I chose to do an accelerated degree. I wanted to help people get back on their feet."

"You wanted to help people," repeated Nevena. "You just can't help yourself."

"Hm?"

"You said you wanted to help people when you joined the Army. You wanted to help people with your degree..." She tilted her head to one side. "You're even helping me right now. Pretending to be in a relationship with me. It's ingrained in you."

"I don't know about that," Cullen chuckled awkwardly, the weight of his past beginning to lift. "I'm sorry for putting all that on you. I didn't intend for it to get so deep."

"That's okay," Nevena shrugged. "Suddenly feels like I know you a lot better now."

"You do." He nodded and slipped his hands into his pockets turning his body to face her. "You know me about as well as my family do."

"Wow." She tucked her hands behind her back and swayed, almost playfully, on the spot. "That's pretty intimate knowledge... Any other deep, dark secrets you should tell me?" Cullen wasn't sure if she was trying to lighten the mood with her question, but he appreciated it, none-the-less.

"No," Cullen smirked. "What about you? Any skeletons I need to know about?"

Just like that, he saw her playfulness disappear and the barriers of her defence shoot up around her. She put space between them where there was hardly any before and retreated away from him. "No. Nothing." She shrugged. "I'm a completely open book."

"Of course you are." Cullen watched as she fidgeted with her hair again and untied the messy braid she tied it in before and began to retie it. He knew there was no point pushing the matter. And she didn't owe him anything. Just because he had told her the details of his past did not mean it was now her turn. Some things were more personal and more difficult to discuss than others.

He turned his attention to the oven and the food within. He checked it, stirred it to make sure nothing was burning, returned it to the oven and set a timer. In that time, Nevena hardly moved from where she was standing, toying with the tuft end of her braid.

"Something on your mind?" Cullen asked. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned on the counter. "You look thoughtful."

"Just something you said earlier," Nevena replied after a moment. "I wanted to ask you about it."

"Okay." Cullen stood up straight. He assumed she meant something about his past and steeled himself to answer whatever difficult questions she might put to him. "Go ahead."

"At the cable car station..." Nevena furrowed her brows. "I mean... Maker, I must sound like a thirteen-year-old asking this, but why did you tell the paramedic I was your girlfriend? I know we're meant to be keeping a facade, but I don't think my sister would pay the whole town to spy for her." She tapped her bottom lip. "I mean, she can be extreme but even that is a bit much for Ineria."

"That's your question?" Cullen laughed in spite of himself, releasing a long breath. "Why I said you were my girlfriend?"

Nevena pouted and crossed her arms over her chest, "It's not that funny."

"No, no." Cullen closed the space between them until she was within arm's reach. "It's not that," he chuckled and hooked his fingers under her chin to tilt her head up. "I just... I was expecting you to ask me something about... everything I just told you." He noticed a flush rise up in her face. Maybe it was warmer in the cabin due to the oven.

"I might have questions. Later. Once I've had time to organize my thoughts on what you said," Nevena answered, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. "It's a stupid question. I shouldn't have asked-"

"I said it because it meant fewer questions," Cullen explained, the firmness of his voice cutting her off. "If I said we were friends then they would ask for next-of-kin details. They would have called my sister and I would have had to deal with her. Saying you are my girlfriend eliminates that."

"Oh," Nevena blinked owlishly. "Okay. That makes sense."

"Okay." He smiled and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead before it registered what he was doing. Her skin was burning under his lips and his whole body clenched when he realised. He turned back towards the kitchen, sure his face was glowing and warmer. It was an accident, a momentary lapse on his part. There was something undeniably sweet and endearing about Nevena, something that caught him off guard. She was his client. He would need to be more vigilant around her and not be so sloppy.

He stared at the oven timer, feeling the air around him crackle and willing the numbers to descend more quickly. He planted one hand on the counter by the sink and ran the other over his mouth and chin, quietly cursing to himself for that instant of foolish judgement. It was a kiss on the forehead, nothing more and not really worth getting worked up over. But a kiss on the forehead was more familiar, tender, and intimate than most other kisses. There was a gentleness to it and he could not recall ever kissing any other of his clients in such a way. They were alone too. There was no member of her family to perform for.

It was the moment. He was emotionally drained after telling her about his past. A lapse in judgement could be excused when he was in such a raw state. It wouldn't happen again.

"Hey, Cullen?" He almost jumped when he heard her voice.

He glanced back over his shoulder. Nevena was still standing where he left her. "Yeah?"

"For what it's worth... I'm grateful you told me about your history." A pause. "And... I think I like the person you are. Mistakes and all." He watched her nod to herself and then go to the couch and sink down into the cushions.

"Thank you." Cullen muttered, more to himself than to her. His stomach coiled and dropped to his knees. He wouldn't allow himself to lose focus or slip up. Once was one time too many. This was an arrangement, one they both agreed to. One lapse in judgement could be excused. Two was risky. Three and it was habit.

He would not allow Nevena Trevelyan to become a habit.