Author's Notes: Many thanks, as always, the Candice. I thought of going Mediterranean, with olive trees instead of palm and all, but threw out the floral business altogether. Thanks anyway! *hugs* And you may have taken a month to get the beta done, but I took an additional month to actually revise the thing - so don't feel bad.

Second Thoughts

The space between them seemed electrified - at once swollen and condensed. She walked some paces behind him as always, treading the hard, dusty path underfoot, bow in hand and at ready, but now it was different. It was as though she were looking at the world - or him, at least - was there a difference? - through a powerful magnifying glass, and details were alive and vibrant in her vision where before they had merely fallen anonymously into the great weave of everything. Now, she couldn't help but notice the strong line of his jaw as he surveyed the landscape around them. The easy swing and absentminded twirl of his mage's staff. The deep gleam of his sable hair in the hard sunlight. The grace and confidence to his stride. She was captivated.

The air around her felt strange, the very flow and pressure of it; or maybe she was newly aware of it. She felt unbalanced within her skin. Her hand kept wandering up to her lips, now tender and uncertain - craving, yet timid.

Things had changed, and in that fact she knew she had forsaken all previous security and established convention. Before, she'd known him as teacher, friend, colleague, traveling companion. Everything had fitted into its custom-molded place; everything had made sense. Now it was different. From guide and companion he had suddenly become more, and she wasn't sure how things were supposed to happen. Can't we just go on as we always have? she'd suggested, and he had agreed. But that was not to be.

Starting anew, she found herself newly shy. How were they to interact, to converse? She tried to remember the seceded past of before, and came up only with vague and jumbled images, as though through the wrong lenses - a dimension apart. Before simply had no bearing on the present. Her throat ached with frustration. Where had the old comfort and familiarity gone? How?

As the sun conquered its ascent, Numair glanced back at her. "Stop for a rest?"

Had his eyelashes always been so long? After a moment, she made a nondescript sound of assent and they turned off the road, heading towards a nearby oasis. Crossing the dry ground dotted with scrub, they reached a palm grove clustered around a quiet pool. A gentle breeze whispered through the foliage above; sunlight sparkled on the limpid water. Averting her gaze, Daine knelt by the pool to splash cool water on her face. At the sudden refreshment, she found herself short of breath.

Beside her, Numair refilled his flask. "The water here seems so much sweeter," he was saying. "I can't help but suspect the realms were unequally dowered when the gods first divided them." He grinned at her, white teeth flashing against his tan.

She simply smiled and turned her face to the warm sunlight, relaxing in the tranquility of the grove.

He shifted closer to her. "How are you doing?" His eyes were concerned, and intent on her. "After your injuries from yesterday, we can take an easier pace if you need -"

"I'm fine," she said automatically, and tried to grin. "I told you already, it would take more than falling off a cliff…." Then she blinked, hard.

He smiled slowly, and reached to brush her cheek with the back of his hand. "I remember."

Her breath caught; it felt out of place among the gentle, fragrant air and cooling breeze.

"Numair," she said suddenly.

"Yes?"

She turned to speak to him, lips poised around a beginning word she couldn't find. Moments passed; words did not come. She looked at him almost pleadingly. "Just - about yesterday," she managed. "The things we talked about, in the canyon - about what happened - I -"

He looked grave, now. "Yes?" he repeated gently.

She looked down at her knees, lip trembling suddenly. "Just -" she sighed. "Do you think it's right?"

He took a moment to answer. "I'm not the one to judge, Daine." He turned to look at her. "No one is. There is no definite answer."

This didn't help her uncertainty. How could she know? What if she was wrong?

"But Daine, I told you -" he spoke slowly - "I would be the last one to claim your love if it is an unhappy situation for you. And I realize the danger of that possibility. I will make no attempt to persuade you toward - anything - unless you are certain it is in your interest."

She stared down at the sand. She wanted so badly to love him. The truth was, she didn't know who she would be if she restrained herself. But still, there was no way to know if it was right. What about him? He was older, more experienced. Shouldn't he have an answer?

"I just can't know for sure," she said quietly, and looked up at him. "But - I wish I did."

A moment passed as she met his dark gaze.

"What about you?" she prompted.

A rueful smile tugged at his lips.

"Don't fool yourself," he said. "I know nothing more than you do."

Daine smiled then, tentatively at first, then widely, buoyed with unsullied joy. She took his hand. "Well, when all's said and done," she told him, "I've no regrets." The promise shone pure, a beacon. "And you?"

He smiled as well and raised her hand to his lips. "None, magelet."