A/N: This was going to be a one shot, but then I just kept thinking of more and more I wanted to write, so I decided to make it a short multi-chapter story. Nothing novel length, but a couple or a few chapters to fully explore the characterizations. Starts with Evelyn's POV, but will alternate between hers and Cullen's. This is set before my other Cullen/Evelyn story, Love and Duty. In my head this Cullen/Evelyn is the same as that one and I may use these two for other little things until I decide if I want to write something long and AU-ish for them. I love AU's. Thanks for reading!

Scars and Healing

She had counted four so far. And it had taken the Inquisitor quite some time to see that many. The Commander was a well spoken and seasoned leader who was open with his opinions around the war table, but open about himself he most certainly was not.

The first was the most obvious. The thin line that just crossed the corner of his mouth was one of the first things she noticed about him. It wasn't so much the scar that always caught her eye, she had to admit. She liked looking at his mouth when he spoke and she couldn't help but be fixated by its subtle movement as his lips formed words or the ever anticipated slight expressions that she was finding herself increasingly dependent on for life. Sometimes she would catch herself holding her breath as she stared at it until he smiled or grimaced ever so slightly, that particular corner tilting up just a bit. At which point she would breath as a reward for seeing it and try to hold in her own smile of satisfaction. Evelyn loved that damn scar.

The second was on his right hand. To be exact, that one was actually a pair of crossed lines across his knuckles, but they looked to be the same age and likely from the same weapon so she considered them one scar from a single injury. The first time she caught him with his gloves off she saw it. It looked to be the oldest of the ones she knew. She reasoned he earned it when he was young and perhaps just learning how to fight. He let a dagger get inside the reach of his longsword probably and the cunning little blade left it's marks. She had studied his hands countless times by now. She noted that there were no other similar scars there. A testament to many of his best qualities; dedication, tenacity, pride. He clearly never let an enemy get that close to him again.

The third she saw by accident. They had just arrived at Skyhold and everyone was helping to put the place in order. He had removed his gloves and gauntlets to help some of the other men lift felled beams from the main hall. As she passed him with his arms up by his head carrying a massive piece of wood outside, the sun shining on his left forearm showed her the jagged remnants of a wicked wound. It was easily the size of her fist, like a starburst with lines going in several directions. The skin had obviously needed stitched back together at the time. It was unquestionably from a mace or other such cruel device that penetrated his shield, and his arm in the process, pulling back both flesh and splinters of wood and metal after it left it's mark. It looked like he was lucky he hadn't lost his arm along with his shield with that wound.

The fourth one she knew of was the most intimate, if the back of his neck could be considered such. Just below his hairline there was a patch of rough and poorly healed skin that looked like it had been a burn when fresh. It was impossible to tell how old it was because she knew it wasn't normal fire that caused it. Mageflame always left a distinct kind of scar that never really healed like other scars did. The skin would always be a little tender and a little pink. She saw it one day when she was staring at him giving orders to his troops. Sometimes she came up with excuses to be near just so she could stare at him.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched his back while Varric (her excuse for being there at the time) was telling her some story she would never remember. Varric knew he was simply a device for her to exercise her voyeuristic fetish, but he didn't seem to care. At one point, Cullen rubbed his hand against the back of his neck as he sometimes did and when he pulled it away and bent his head slightly, the old burn was brought to her attention. Her commander did not seem like the kind of man to let an opponent get by him, nor was he someone to run away from a fight, so how he had come to be burned from behind by a mage was a story she didn't think she wanted to know.

Ah, but that was a lie. She did want to know. She wanted to know everything about him. Every story, every scar, whatever they were, wherever they were, even the ones she had yet to discover. They were all part of him and despite her half-hearted efforts at demure indifference and professional distance, she had to admit to herself that she loved him. Totally and pathetically.

She often tried to convince herself it wasn't one-sided. For all the times she indulged in gazing longingly at him, she would swear there were times she caught him staring at her as well. And if she was really trying to make herself seem less obsessed, she would also swear there were times when his dutiful and gentlemanly manner was carefully and deliberately directed at her and not just default behavior meant for any passerby.

Well, a girl could hope.

Hope, however, was something she had in short supply currently. Whenever she was back in Skyhold, she tried to spend as much time as possible around Cullen, even if he didn't exactly notice it. When she ran out of excuses to meet with him or talk with him directly, she'd find him anyway and observe him secretly from afar. She almost never had trouble. He always seemed willing, eager even, to speak with her and it was never too hard to find him when she simply wanted to watch over him.

But at the moment he seemed to be actively avoiding her. She had been back for a while now, waiting for Leliana's scouts to report in with new leads to follow up on, but she had only spoken with him once in a council meeting about business and she hadn't seen him around casually at all. That one time she had seen him, he didn't look like himself. He seemed tired and distracted, which just made her more worried.

She took to pacing for no reason outside his office for hours when she knew he was in there, but he never came out. She was having trouble sleeping and had been spending most nights on her balcony looking down at his door, wondering if she should go and knock on it to see if he was alright.

It was on such a night that she resigned herself to the fact that she would get no rest staring at a door and decided to take a walk around the keep. She thought maybe exposure to the cold air during a brisk stroll would make her want to bury herself under her covers and go to sleep. Word had finally come in about where she needed to travel next and much to her dismay, she was expected to depart in the morning.

She didn't bother to dress before she left her room. She simply tied on a robe and started down the steps. She didn't even bother putting on her boots. A decision she regretted when she finally made it outside and felt the frigid flagstones beneath her feet. She shivered and danced on her tiptoes down into the main courtyard and then down again. She had no destination planned. She kept one eye on Cullen's tower as she went. She roamed outside then back inside, up the battlements and down again. She was no more ready to get back in bed than when she started. Cullen's quarters were dark just like most everyone else's.

She eventually found herself in the kitchens. As she had lost feeling in her toes some time ago and they were starting to look a bit blue, she decided to go in and sit by the fire for a while.

She was alone and the large hearth had burned down to embers. She piled on a few logs and stoked it back to life before settling down into a chair before it, stretching her feet out to feel it's warmth.

She folded her arms around herself and closed her eyes. In her head, she counted his scars. She went over in her mind's eye what each of them looked like. Then she imagined touching them. First with hesitant fingertips, then softly kissing them with her lips. She imagined what he would smell like up close. Perhaps steel and leather. She imagined what his skin would taste like. Perhaps salt and spice. She imagined what his unshaven stubble would feel like against her face and what his bare hands would feel like on her hips. She wondered what other scars lay beneath his armor and what scars lay within that would not be so obvious. If she could soothe them all with a kiss, she would.

She was starting to finally feel sleepy and she let out a sigh. She almost considered just falling off into the Fade where she was sitting, until the door opened behind her, startling her out of her half-dreams.

She turned and saw Cullen in the doorway. Not the Commander of the Inquisition. Cullen. No sword, no coat, no armor. Not even a shirt. He stood before her in his boots and trousers. His hair was tousled and he almost had the start of a beard on his face. His body seemed tense and he looked like he was sweating. His eyes looked surprised at the sight of her, but not just that. There was something else behind the surprise in those dark golden eyes that looked...tortured.

"Commander..."
"Inquisitor..."

They both started to speak then stopped. She was the first to continue, rising from her chair to face him. "Commander, I'm so sorry I startled you. Is there something you need?"

He held his hands up and took a step back. "No. No, it is I who should apologize. I did not mean to intrude." He turned to leave, but she stopped him.

"Wait, please. Don't be silly, you're not intruding. We're in the kitchens, Commander," She said with a smile. "If anything, I think the both of us are intruding upon the mice." He hesitated. And then she saw the scarred corner of his mouth lift just barely into something that could pass for amusement. If she hadn't studied his face so well, she probably wouldn't have noticed it in the dim light. But the almost-smile was gone before it even fully formed.

"I should go." He said to the floor. "Please excuse me."

"Commander..." She stopped him again. "Are you...are you alright?" She had to ask. She had known something was wrong for days and now she clearly had proof. She doubted it was common practice for him to wander Skyhold half naked. And she would swear he looked feverish. She allowed her concern to overtake her propriety. "I...haven't seen you...I was...worried..."

She should have stopped talking before she started. He looked annoyed, frustrated. Who did she think she was? His mother? How stupid of her. She tried to backtrack. "I shouldn't be prying..."

Cullen sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "No, this is my fault. I..." He shook his head and dropped his eyes to the floor. "As leader of the Inquisition you...there is something I must tell you."

The 'leader of the inquisition' relaxed a little, not having realized she had become tense. She pulled another chair next to hers and gestured for him to sit. "Whatever it is, I'm willing to listen."

He seemed to hesitate at first, but then he sat. "Right. Thank you." He said softly.

The two of them sat in silence for a while. Cullen stared into the fire. She stared at Cullen. But not how she usually did. She wasn't looking at the scars on his skin or his state of undress. She was trying to look within. Searching for a hidden hurt she desperately wanted to help heal.

He still didn't look at her when he began to speak.

"Lyrium grants Templars our abilities, but it controls us as well. Those cut off suffer. Some go mad. Others die. We have secured a reliable source of lyrium for the Templars here but..."

"You no longer take it." She finished the sentence for him. All the pieces came together. How could she not have seen it before? Maker! What he must be suffering...

He lowered his head further. "It's been months now."

"Cullen, if this can kill you..." She was suddenly terrified at the reality of his situation.

"It hasn't yet. After what happened in Kirkwall, I couldn't... I will not be bound to the order, or that life, any longer. Whatever the suffering I accept it." There was a long pause. Cullen rose from his chair, or at least he tried to. He stumbled slightly but caught himself, at the same time holding out his hand in refusal of Evelyn's reflexive offer of assistance. She sat back down while he started pacing.

When he started to speak again, she almost wasn't sure if he was talking to himself or to her. "At least, I thought I could accept it...I wanted to be able to accept it. It's relentless. If I am unable to fulfill what vows I kept then nothing good has come of this."

She had no idea what to say, or what comfort to offer. "Cullen...""

He cut her off and looked at her pointedly. "I had asked Cassandra to watch me. She could evaluate the risk, monitor my performance and my continued ability to lead. If I became...unable to perform my duties, she was to act in the best interest of the Inquisition. I've asked her to replace me."

His breathing was getting heavier. He clutched handfuls of his hair in his fists and he walked back and forth before the fire. "I expected her to keep her word, but..."

"She refused." Again she finished his sentence. Evelyn knew Cassandra. This would not be a responsibility she would take lightly. Nor would she wish to see Cullen step down unnecessarily. "I agree with her. You give yourself too little credit."

"I never meant for this to interfere." He shook his head in a sad and regretful gesture and then turned his back to her as he moved to leave.

Without thinking she rose and tried to intercept him. "Cullen, wait..." She reached out to touch his shoulder from behind. She felt the thick raised flesh of another scar beneath her fingertips but those superficial things were not the scars she was interested in right now. There were deeper ones that deserved her attention.

But it seemed Cullen wasn't yet ready to let her see them. He spun quickly and grabbed her wrist pulling her away from him. Their eyes met for a moment, hers shocked and wide, his wild and far away.

"Cullen, please," she said softly, patiently, "if you need to talk..."

He squeezed his eyes shut and threw down her hand. He just stood there, looking like he was trying to shut out...something.

"Are you going to be alright?" She asked.

"Yes..." He paused, shook his head again, then admitted the truth. "I don't know."