Title: The Intersection of Points N and E

Summary: Snapshots of Eliot and Natalia's adventures over their years together.

Disclaimer: I don't own Leverage or any of the characters associated with the show. I only claim ownership to the character that I created. Also, no profits are being made off of this story. It's only for your entertainment.

Author's Note: Wasn't planning on updating so soon, but this one nearly wrote itself. Figured there was no point in keeping it from you guys, so here it is! Just as a warning, it gets a bit deep. Let me know what you think.

Chapter 4: The First and Last Argument They Ever Had

~March 14th 2001~ Natalia's home in Florida

"He's a liar Eliot. He's a fucking liar and I don't know why you can't see that," Natalia slammed the front door so loud that Eliot cringed for the door frame's sake. "I have no idea why you would even consider risking your life for a job like that." She practically ripped her shoes off of her feet and threw them aside before she stormed off through the living room and into the kitchen.

"Because he's a friend, that's why," Eliot yelled before stalking into the kitchen after her.

"A friend," she stared at him in sarcastic disbelief. "You need some new fucking friends."

"You met him once Natalia, how the fuck can you even form a cohesive opinion from that?" He screamed through the higher octaves of his voice.

"Because I'm good at things like that, alright?" She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and mashed the door closed none-too-lightly.

"Why? Because you're fucked up? Get over it Natalia we all are. Just because you fuckin' hate people and couldn't trust anyone if your goddamn life depended on it doesn't mean that you need to go tellin' me who I should and shouldn't trust. I can fuckin' take care of myself," he slammed his fist down on the granite of the kitchen island. Then he started to regret what he had just said.

She was standing opposite him, both hands braced against the edge of the counter as if to stop her from springing over it and strangling him. Her green eyes were wide and livid as she took a ragged breath to calm herself.

"Yeah, Eliot," her tone a whisper as she breathed through clenched teeth, "because I'm fucked up."

"Natalia, I didn't mean…"

"Do you know what it's like to have people lie to you your entire life? To have people tell you how much you're wanted and appreciated and loved, and then turn around and throw all of that back in your face?" His lips parted and he offered a nearly imperceptible shake of his head. "Well that's my life Eliot." He hadn't expected this. And he certainly hadn't meant to trigger it.

"My parents told me they loved me and then left me to grow up by myself while they watched. My father was nothing more than someone who came to my house to sleep every night before leaving for work again at 7am. In my mind, it was my fault that he didn't want to spend time with me. Somehow, somewhere, I fucked up. Every fight between them was my fault, even when it had nothing to do with me. Because something had to cause it, and unless I knew what it was, I figured it had to be me. Who else could it be?" She screamed at him like he had an answer.

"I was nineteen before someone ever told me I was beautiful. That was the first time anyone ever touched me in a way that I craved. The first time I trusted someone. And you know what happened? I was cheated on with the definition of homely. That was my fault too. My fault because what I was, wasn't good enough for him. My fault because I wouldn't just lie down and agree with the bullshit that came out of his mouth on a regular basis like she did. My fault because I hurt when I found her pillow at his place. My fault because I was jealous that she spent every weekend with him while we were together. That was my goddamn fault. And that's why he didn't want me. That's why he beat me down the way he did. I gave my all, and my all isn't ever good enough to keep someone around. Everyone I've ever considered important has left me save for two people. My brother. And you. Everyone else told me to suck it up and move on. So that's what I did. Because no one…gives…a fuck about what happens to you." Her body was trembling with the energy of her conviction.

"But when you spend the first twenty something years of your life being told pretty things while being kicked in the stomach, you break Eliot. You break to a point that can't really be fixed. After that, everything is inconsequential. That's why I don't trust anyone. That's why I'm so critical. So that I can run at the first sign of trouble. I hate people before they have a chance to hate me. Because apparently something's so wrong with me that they always do. I'm too strong-willed, too smart, too independent for my own damn good. I thought that was a good thing but life apparently doesn't agree. It never has. That's why I don't break. Things have to be whole to break, but dust can't get any smaller than it already is. That's where I've been for the longest time. And frankly, I don't know if I can ever completely turn that around. I don't know that I give a fuck anymore." Her form sank almost out of exhaustion. "So go preach your bullshit somewhere else, Eliot." She weakly reached for her water bottle and turned to walk upstairs. "I've already heard enough to last me the rest of my life."

Well, there it was. Over three years of wondering what made her tick; wondering how she could be so brutal, so cold, so analytical in every aspect of her life had all been brought to light in the span of four minutes. It was what made her an exceptional assassin, but robbed her of the chance to be a human being. She didn't show her emotions because the world used them against her. She didn't believe in trust because no one had ever shown her that she could. He had done something horrible. But he was simultaneously glad and crushed. Glad that now he had the missing piece to her. And crushed that she bore such pain the way she did.

Eliot left her alone for a good half hour, having learned long ago that she needed space. When the time felt right, he knew he would find her out on the dock, thinking. He changed out of his jeans and into sweats and the softest t-shirt he could find, so as to not expose even her skin to any more unnecessary discomfort.

Natalia owned beachfront property in south Florida, the ocean being the only thing that could calm her when no one else was around. He stared up at the full moon before scanning across the deck and out over the expanse of sand, finding a tiny form sitting hunched over on the dock.

She heard his footfalls on the worn wooden boards before feeling him sit down right next to her. She was scrunched into a ball, her knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped around them, almost in an attempt to be so small that she would disappear.

"You're beautiful you know," Eliot whispered softly. If no one else had told her and meant it, he wanted to make sure she knew.

"It's fine Eliot, you don't have to fix anything," she roughly wiped at a tear with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. "Everybody is fucked up, just like you said. I mean, who doesn't have daddy issues right?" She offered a faint smile. "Suffering doesn't make you a saint." Her voice seemed so small. "I'm sorry I brought it up."

"That's not anything to be sorry about momma. Shoulda been let out a long time ago. I had no idea all that was inside," he looked out to sea, not fully sure that she would appreciate his touch at the moment.

She stared down through unseeing eyes at a knot in the wooden planks before them. "You know Eliot, I didn't feel for the longest time. And to an extent I still don't." Her words were crushing his heart. She looked up and over at him before continuing. "But I feel you. You were the first thing I had felt in years. And I was afraid of it. I still am. Still afraid that I'm going to mess up, just like I did all those times before."

"You ain't gonna mess anything up," he chided. "All of those things that happened…they're not your fault momma. You didn't mess up. We can't ever really tell why people make the choices they do, but I guess they don't always realize that they're not the ones livin' with the consequences." She shifted to the right and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her head in his chest as he held her as tightly as he dared. She was crying. Not because of what she had been through - her heart had hardened to that years ago - but because here beside her was quite possibly the only person in all the world who cared.

He held her there until the tears stopped. Until she relaxed into his embrace. Until he trusted his voice to speak again without breaking.

"Dunno why you'd want to be some asshole's definition of 'good enough' anyway momma."

"I don't," she sniffed. "But that doesn't mean that it didn't hurt when it happened. Getting left for something less than yourself isn't all…" she searched for the words, "…cupcakes and unicorns or whatever."

"Well, I don't like cupcakes. And unicorns don't exist, so…" She let out a soft laugh as he kissed the top of her head. "Plus you'd make a shitty housewife. I've seen the way you cook."

"Shut up," she whispered with a smile on her lips.

"I'm not goin' anywhere momma. Promise."

Natalia had ended up being right after all. Despite her protests, Eliot took the job, and barely lived to regret it. His "friend" was a huge fucking liar who screwed him over just like she thought. He had no idea, and yet somehow she had seen it all a month before. From that point on, he learned to value her judgment and even went out of his way to seek her advice. There was some kind of backwards logic to her reasoning, he had to admit. But nothing, he thought, was quite worth that kind of pain. He only hoped he would live long enough to help her heal.