A/N: I actually have 3 finals this week, none of which I'm prepared for but alas, such is fic. It's pretty hastily written and poorly proof-read, but please enjoy!

It was the kind of rain that drenched your clothes, crept under your skin and chilled you to the bone. It was dark, cold.

It was the kind of rain that Eric Delko found himself sitting in, and to his surprise, he found it calming. It helped quell his rage. He felt the raindrops beat down on his closed eyelids, and his mind began to drift to a happier time. A time before he knew the ugly truth about his origins. A time before the bullet changed everything. When he still had his swagger, his ego. He missed being sure. He missed the stability. He felt lost, alone, betrayed. It was unbearable.

He didn't know how much time had passed when he felt the bench creak beneath someone else's weight.

"You're going to catch a cold."

He lifted his eyelids and turned to the voice, though he didn't need to. The soft accent was unmistakable.

Calleigh was soaked from head to toe, her hair clinging tightly to her skin, though she didn't particularly seem to mind. The rain had the odd ability to wash away barriers, revealing vulnerability, fear, all the anxieties a person carried around with them, and he was seeing them in her. It made him tense. Not her presence but the realization that she probably saw the same in him. Most of the time, she didn't even need the rain.

"So are you," he replied apprehensively. "What are you doing here?"

Her eyes held steady with his. "I'm taking you home."

He chuckled bitterly and looked away. "I'm not sure I have one anymore."

She nodded slowly. "I do," she said simply, and though his pulse raced, he understood.

He left with her, searching for conversation, confessions and the comfort he always found in her.

An hour later, he was on her couch, fresh out of the shower, in nothing but a pair of sweatpants she'd dug out of her closet. Who they'd belonged to, he didn't know. Didn't particularly want to know, either. There was the irrational jealousy that coursed through his veins when he entertained the idea that they once belonged to an ex-lover.

Calleigh sat beside him in a clean change of clothes, her hand enveloped by his. Neither could tell who'd initiated the contact, but both were glad for it. She laced her fingers through his and gave his hand a light squeeze.

"You should've said something," she finally broached. Her words were quiet, reserved, and there was a hesitation there that betrayed how much his struggles were affecting her, too.

He chuckled. "About what?"

"Staying at that motel," she answered, though they both knew it was more than that. It was everything. She selfishly wanted to be the only one he turned to, even though she knew it was unfair to expect that when she didn't reciprocate. Didn't know how. Still, she wanted him for herself, and the realization startled her.

He shook his head. "It wasn't that bad."

"My door would've been open," she told him.

He looked down at his lap, feeling shame though he couldn't explain it. "That bullet this morning? Would've gone through your bedroom window instead."

She smiled. "You think you would've been allowed in my bedroom?" she asked playfully.

His eyes widened as he looked up. "That's not—"

"Eric," she interrupted, understanding with a start why he didn't want to joke about that. She suddenly felt foolish. "I'm just messing with you."

He exhaled a silent sigh. "I didn't want to put you in danger," he explained quietly.

"How's your arm?" she asked, inspecting the cut across his triceps and realizing, once again, how close he'd come. "It's okay to leave unbandaged?"

He nodded. "It's just a little tender," he replied, slowly flexing his muscle.

She watched his arm for a moment, fighting the urge to touch it. "Will you sleep here tonight?" She'd meant it to be an inquiry, but it left her lips resembling a request.

His eyes met hers, and he was surprised to find desperation there. "Okay," he agreed.

She stood up and silently led him to her bedroom, to her bed. She pulled the covers aside and urged him in. "Come on."

He shook his head, feet unmoving. "I can't—"

She gave his arm a gentle tug, offered an encouraging smile. "Eric, it's fine."

Still, he refused. The color rose in his cheeks. "I don't—"

She pushed herself up on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his, briefly, impulsively. He saw his own surprise mirrored in her reaction, felt his lips tingling from the contact. He'd never imagined their first kiss this way, never imagined it any way, because he knew the real thing would be so much sweeter than anything his imagination could cook up. It was.

She pulled away and avoided his eyes, tugging once again at his arm; this time, he relented.

He shuffled forward and climbed in under the covers, breathed in. It smelled like her and he found himself instantly hooked to the scent. She turned to leave, almost as though trying to do so inconspicuously, but he stopped her, his fingers careful around her wrist.

"You're not sleeping?"

"In a little while," she replied.

He tightened his grip possessively on her wrist. "Because of what happened?"

She shook her head, a little too fervently. "No," she promised. She hesitated a moment, then leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead, lingered just long enough to allow him to pull her in. She didn't protest, settling underneath the covers like they'd done it before, already. She rested her cheek against his bare chest, mapping out the rhythm of his heartbeat and calculating in her head how many beats she'd missed, how many she could've had, how many they could've shared. His arms were strong around her, warm, protective, and she had to wonder what she'd been doing all this time.

"I shouldn't be here," he murmured, the paranoia creeping into his conscious. "It could be dangerous."

She pressed a kiss to his chest, just over his heart. "I don't care," she countered. "I want to be with you."

She felt his heart pound a little faster in his chest, felt her own speeding up as well when she realized not only the implications of her words but how much she meant them.

"I want to keep you safe," she added.

Nothing was ever certain, they both knew, but what they shared could never change. For Eric, the search for answers would be a long one filled with unimaginable dangers, secrets, betrayal, but he had a renewed confidence that he could handle it all with a little help from the woman in his arms.