Notes: I've had this series of stories going on Live Journal for awhile and I figured I might as well bring them over here. There will be a lot of variation in length and style to these stories (some drabblish, some one shots, a few minor story arcs here or there). But they are self referencing and in somthing along the lines of a specific order so I figured they'd be easier to follow if posted as many chapters to a single story. I'll be posting them pretty regularly until we're caught up with live journal.

Trust

When it came down to it the relationship was really about trust.

From those first hellish weeks in that prison near Cairo, to that meandering chess match and their cat and mouse game across Europe a few years later, to Chicago and everything since they've constantly been putting trust in each other whether or not it was smart. Even now, laying together in a dark room, sleeping without one hand wrapped around a knife like Eliot used to always do, they put their lives in each others hands just by that mutual trust.

It's strange really, how many of his own rules Eliot's broken since joining the team. The others know where he lives, have access to the things he eats and drinks, can track him easily. Somehow none of that makes him paranoid.

And then there's Nate. They don't just practically live together now, sharing a condo while both keeping their own apartments, they share a bed. Nate's been doing the grocery shopping since Eliot started cooking for the two of them. Nate was the one who finally convinced Eliot to get a tracking device implanted beneath the skin at the base of his ear so that if he ever got captured they might have an easier time with a rescue.

And all of that? It made him feel safe.

He, a man famous among criminal's for the sheer violence he was capable of, feels safest when he's no more than a breath away from an ex-insurance investigator who can't decide if he's a black king, white knight, or both in equal terms.

It's late at night now, the tension of the day and the job worked off in a way that's left a content grin across Eliot's face when he remembers it. Nate was sleeping now, naturally and not the stone dead drunken unconsciousness that came with alcohol.

Nate was drinking less these days, though Eliot didn't bother himself with wondering if it was the job or love that was making the world a little more bearable.

They didn't really call this love anyway. They were both too broken and twisted for something as innocent as that. Love was for young couples and innocent people who didn't hurt people for a living, who weren't still fighting the urge to blow their own brains out sometimes, who hadn't lost a son or entire family. Love wasn't for people who lived in their world.

This wasn't love. This was comfort. This was protection against the nothingness they saw looming in each other's eyes. This was existing and knowing you existed because someone else was there in the dark of night to hold you when the world threatened to stop.

This was the only thing that made sense to them anymore.

The arms around Eliot tightened. Nate's breath against the back of his neck quickened and turned ragged. Eliot broke away and turned, stroking a hand through man's hair, soothing away a threatening nightmare. Even asleep Nate calmed under his touch.

Trust.

They may be too damaged to call this love.

But trust? That was enough for now.