A/N: Evelyn's POV this time. Poor thing. I swear she'll get a happy ending. I swear :) Thank you for reading!
Chapter 5: Hurt
You're useless sitting here. Why did you even bother to come?
Evelyn sat in the grass behind Cullen's homestead, this time invited but still very far away.
Too weak to shape up and too weak to just end it already? That really is something, 'Inquisitor'.
She didn't bother trying to parse out which taunts belonged to the demons she'd let in with her blood magic or the ones that had taken root in her soul long before she'd ever cast those disgusting spells. She couldn't blame the Fade or blood magic on the latter. Those demons spoke with her own voice, born from the dark she harbored inside and held close until Cullen came for her. She wanted to let it go now. She wanted to let it all go but it was hard.
So she sat. Hour upon hour, day after day, redefining her reclusive existence by shutting out the world while watching it move past her. Almost living, but not quite.
He should have never brought you here. You're not needed. You're not wanted.
Evelyn rubbed her eyes and then ran her hand through her neatly trimmed hair. Their first night on the road together after she made the decision to let him lead her off the path she'd been stumbling down, he helped her cut away the ragged strands and make it nearly presentable again. At least so she'd imagined. She had yet to look in a mirror. It was easier not knowing for sure what she'd come to look like and it frightened her even more to think she might see a bit of who she once was staring back at her trapped behind the thing she'd become.
That's it. Keep wallowing. Things may not get worse, but they certainly won't get better.
And that's what terrified her. More than the phantom pain in her arm, more than the sleep deprivation, more than the demons squawking inside her head. What terrified her was this. Sitting here. Sitting here and thinking that this was all that was left and all that was ever going to exist for her. That she would just keep living, that Cullen's presence would give her just enough motivation to walk the thin line between lost and found but she would never find a way to feel better, to feel good.
There's nothing left to feel good about. You should leave.
But she was too scared to leave. So she sat alone in a field, stubbornly keeping the world at a distance while holding her brooding thoughts close.
Cullen's Templars, former Templars, who were also seeking sanctuary here under the former Commander's beneficence let her keep to herself for the most part. She recognized some, others she did not, some recognized her. One young man who looked too fresh faced to have seen much of the war, or to have been leashed to the Chantry's lyrium for too long approached her when she arrived and asked her if she was the Inquisitor. She said no. Cullen frowned, worst Wicked Grace face ever, but he said nothing.
She worked up enough self-respect to argue when Rylen offered to vacate his room for her. She'd gone as far as sleeping outside her first night in residence to prove she would not accept his inconvenience on her account. He bunked with Cullen anyway and the room was left vacant. The next night she moved in. Stubborn Templars were more stubborn than her it seemed.
When she ate, she ate alone. Unless Cullen found her and sat with her. Sometimes he would remain silent and they would just eat staring into their bowls, sometimes he would talk, even if she didn't respond, about nothing mostly. The farm. The weather. His dog. It was infuriatingly pointless but she always listened, grateful, as memories from another time would come back to her. Memories of when she sat across from him at a chess table or his desk, prattling on about the same nothings. Memories of when he was the one silent and hurting and probably grateful.
When she slept, when she was able to sleep, it was always next to him. He would come to her in the evenings here in the grass and sit with her until the moons were high and the day was done. Only then could she find sleep. It would come upon her unexpectedly, so near to him her body would act on its own entranced by his steady presence, his warmth, his strength and she would lean on him and drift into the Fade. When that happened she always awoke in the morning in her appropriated bed, knowing he'd carried her there, hating that she just couldn't seem to remember how to be normal.
It isn't that you can't remember. It's that you never were. You just can't hide it anymore.
She rolled her eyes and sighed at the relentless perseveration of her own thoughts. She was considering finding another spot to sit, for no reason other than she hadn't moved in hours, when she saw Cullen walking towards her. His form was silhouetted by the setting sun and the sight made her heart skip a beat and then it sank; a mix of both anticipation and shame. The aura he wore was like the sunset, deep purple, deep gold, rich colors, warm colors that always threatened to disarm her, strip from her the cold colors of indifference that clung to her like a second skin, ineffectively concealing her pain and only barely protecting what was left of her dignity.
"I need to ask you for a favor." He said casually as he sat down next to her, leaning back on his hands.
"I...uh...of course, I'm...yes, anything."
And to think you were once important you stuttering fool.
He chuckled and she cringed.
You're just another one of his charity cases.
"Well, you don't have to say yes before you know what I'm asking. In fact, I'm fully expecting you to refuse, but I'm still going to ask."
"I can't keep living here on charity, Cullen, suffocating the grass under my useless arse. Whatever you want, I'll do it."
Well that was a bitter offer of help if ever there was one. How does he keep tolerating you?
He shrugged. "Alright then. I need you to get up off that arse of yours and start knocking some of these Templars on theirs."
"I...what?"
Cullen smiled. It was a dangerous thing, his smile. It always had been for her. There were times in the past when his smile was like an eclipse, rare and fleeting, but blinding if she stared too long. Now his smile was easy, ready, willing. She wished…
What? What do you wish? You can't possibly still think you'll ever get anything you wish for?
Cullen explained patiently. "Some of them are ready to fly away from our little nest here and I think it's important for them to learn how to fight and defend themselves without the lyrium. And for those still struggling with it, well, it always helped me when we sparred together." Another smile, warm with memories. It made her heart ache to see it.
You used to be better than this. Does it sadden him too, how far you've fallen?
She squeezed her eyes shut and brought her hand up to cover her ear. So much talking inside her head. And she always had one uncovered ear left to hear it now.
Cullen leaned in close, his words soft now but more intent, concerned. "Evelyn, if you'd rather not…"
"No, it's fine, I will." She shook off the voices and then she remembered. Funny how she hadn't given it a thought until now. "Oh, but...I...I forgot, I don't have my staff any longer..."
Or your arm...
"Yes, I noticed."
She said nothing, waiting for the question she wasn't sure she was going to answer yet. She'd never elaborated on where else she'd traveled and what else she'd done before her secret visit to him that she admitted to in their shared dream. Some hurt was easier to keep covered, even it it meant it would never heal.
When he spoke again, it wasn't to ask her where or when she'd abandoned her staff and her pride.
"Sometimes healing hurts more than the actual hurt, Evelyn. This I know." At that, he rose and started walking away, adding over his shoulder, "Dorian left a staff for you. It's in my office."