Author's note: I haven't written for a while, so I'm a little rusty! Jaffar and Nino have been stuck in my head lately, since I'm working on a nice art piece that ties in with this story. And

for once, I thought I'd try the earlier stages of their relationship and Supports, rather than after they're already in love. =) They'd be much more insecure back then! So please enjoy!

The camp was stifling. It took Jaffar mere moments to slip away under the cover of shadows, skirting the tents and the crackling bonfire. Kent and Sain were on sentry duty; it was child's play for the former assassin to avoid the two bickering knights of Caelin. He kept low to the ground, his dark cloak blending with the growing darkness, following the edge of the small herd of warhorses and pegasi tended to by Rath and Fiora. Now he was in the darkness, alone, where he belonged.

The Angel of Death crouched behind a cover of reeds, impassively watching the bustle of camp from his vantage point across the small lake. He could still hear the rustling of the horses, the pleasant murmur of conversations, the clanking of armor and weaponry being cleaned and repaired. In true Black Fang style, he had memorized the names and positions of those in the rag-tag army within hours. It still confused him, though – the relationships were an enigma.

Royalty, deserters, commoners, and mercenaries alike mingled like friends and family, none of which made sense to Jaffar. The three commanders, Marquess Eliwood, Lord Hector, and the Lady Lyndis, were all so comfortable with each other. There appeared to be no ambition between them, no plots to rise above – the most unrest he could see were the fierce arguments Hector and Lyn shared, which were always quelled by the peace-loving Eliwood. Unlike the jealous and manipulative Four Fangs, these leaders were symbiotic, inspired by teamwork and closeness. The same could be said of the Pegasus Knight sisters, or the Phaeran Brigade, or Lyndis's Legion – none of which he was a part of, to be sure. He had heard tales of the old Black Fang, the way it used to be – that's what it sounded like.

And then there was Nino. The young girl he had rescued, who stirred such raw and unfamiliar feelings within him; the cheerful orphan with the powerful magic and the bright blue eyes. She, of course, was innocent enough to fit right in to this mad caravan. Jaffar had been trailing her all day, to make sure she was in no danger. The girl had already struck up a friendship with the shy knight Florina, the bright archer Rebecca, and much to his chagrin, the surly mage Erk, and the traitor Legault. Jaffar didn't mind if Nino wanted friends; he certainly wanted nothing to do with them, and she was only fourteen, after all. Legault, though, could not be trusted, and Jaffar had a brief talk with the tall thief after Nino was gone. The Hurricane was thoroughly bitter, but claimed to have no ill intentions towards Sonia's orphan.

Jaffar frowned, his cold eyes unreadable. He knew this army was going to war. They would battle to the death against the man who raised him, Nergal. It mattered not. He had no attachment to anyone, felt nothing when he chose to let them live, or die. The only time it mattered was when it came to Nino. He'd been glad to kill the despicable morph, Sonia, the one who made Nino cry again and again. He had been reluctant to fight Lloyd, because that man's death would sadden Nino, and it had. He had agreed to follow under Eliwood's banner, because Nino had asked him to come with her. But now... It had finally come down to this.

Did she need him, the same way he needed her?

He had seen this afternoon how Erk, the grumpy mage with the violet hair, had gotten flushed and embarrassed by Nino's attention. He knew that the antisocial boy, at that moment, had not been thinking of a simple friendship. What if Nino felt the same? He'd seen how Rebecca and Florina both welcomed the idea of a little sister to look after, and how Nino immediately warmed up to the two teenagers. What if she'd rather share her worries with other girls, rather than Jaffar? Other people, the people in this camp, openly showed their emotions and acted accordingly... like Nino did. What if she grew accustomed to that... and no longer wanted to deal with the cold exterior of an assassin?

He heard the soft footfalls behind him, and did not move. There were few people who would approach him at night, and it didn't sound like a vengeful Matthew or a jealous Legault.

"Jaffar, what are you doing out here in the cold?" Nino murmured softly, crouching down beside him. He noted with a flutter of pride that she, too, had evaded the sentries without notice. His garnet eyes scanned her over once, twice, checking for any signs of injury or malcontent. He found none, and returned his gaze to the dark pond surface.

"I... came here to think," he finally grunted, shifting to a kneeling position. Detaching the killing edges from his waist, he deftly plunged the red-lacquered daggers into the soft earth, hilts within easy reach. Nino's sky-blue eyes stared raptly at him, drinking in his every movement. She seemed fascinated by the easy grace his muscular form displayed.

"Really? You came out here to think? Wow, I didn't know you had much to think about," she said with a small giggle, inching closer to the dangerous man. Jaffar raised an eyebrow, noting that she was right. It was only because of her influence that he'd begun to worry about things and people beyond himself. Had she not come into his life, he would have no purpose right now. But she had no idea of how important she was to him... it would probably scare her to know just how far he would go to protect her.

"Jaffar, can I ask you something?" she piped suddenly, hugging her bare knees to her chest. He nodded after a moment, feeling a slight tremor of unease in his stomach. What did she want to ask? Did she want him to leave? Had she noticed him following her today? Did Legault tell her something he shouldn't have?

"Well, um... Why were you... with Nergal?" Nervously, Nino fiddled with the hem of her skirt, not noticing Jaffar's slight sigh of relief. "When I first met you, it was after you had come with Moth– I mean, with Sonia and the Black Fang. So I thought at first that you were with the Black Fang. Then, my brothers told me that you had come with Nergal. I'd never met Nergal, but... As Nergal's servants, you and Sonia must have been friends, right?"

Jaffar watched as Nino's voice trailed off, how she seemed to be lost in a memory of her verbally abusive "mother". She seemed so upset, even though that part of her life was behind her. And yet, Jaffar felt even more relief at the inquiry – she was still curious about him. She still chose him to share her worries. She would leave all of those other strangers to just talk to him, out in the cold, dark night, because he meant more to her... That thought drove him to give as honest an answer as he could muster.

"...I was selected by Nergal as a child. He raised me to become his Angel of Death... I... did not think. ...I did not feel. I did what I was told... ...and that was all." His troubled gaze once again drifted to look at her, watch the scant moonlight glint on her brilliantly green hair, watch a cool breeze flutter her purple cloak. When she didn't answer, he scrambled to come up with more of an explanation, something, anything to please her. He wanted to see her smile, more than anything.

"I entered the Black Fang with the intent of infiltrating them, of using them... I had heard rumors about Sonia and her daughter being there... That child, raised by Sonia... I thought she must be something like myself... But...the first time I saw you, you were with the Reed brothers, laughing... in that dazzling light... as if you belonged there..."

A faint smile ghosted his lips at the memory, one he often returned to on nights like this. Nino was the complete opposite of everything he was – she was friendly, open, compassionate, loving, and had never taken a life in cold blood. He, on the other hand, had been discovered as a baby on the scene of a massacre; a foreshadowing of his entire life. But Nino, Nino, she was so... He closed his eyes, letting the words he had thought so often fall freely from his lips.

"...I became very interested in you... When you saved my life... I thought I had you... But I couldn't do it... Nino, that was the first time I ever had...feelings..."

And it was true. He had been contracted to kill her, and could not. He had been ordered to kill the Prince of Bern, Zephiel, and could not in front of her. Everything had spiraled away from him since she had come into his life, and he could not have it any other way.

"Jaffar..." she breathed, gazing up at him with those irresistibly blue eyes. She hesitantly reached out a hand, brushing her fingers against the ragged hem of his assassin's cloak, but then let her fingers drop to the damp grass. He did not miss the attempted contact, nor did he miss the slight tremble in her slim shoulders.

"You're cold," he murmured, swallowing hard. "Let... me warm you..."

And noiselessly his bare arms encircled her, pulling her to sit onto his lap, wrapped safe in the dark fabric of his cape. His gloved hands flexed protectively, a silent gesture that he would never let her go. She squeaked in surprise, but quickly relaxed in his grip, settling with her head snugly beneath his chin.

They stayed motionless, watching wordlessly as the clouds obscured the moon, and as night's darkness dragged on. The noises from camp trailed off, and the bonfire flickered dangerously low as its attendants drifted into slumber. Finally, as Nino began to feel her own eyes fluttering shut, she whispered to him, her savior: "Jaffar... Don't ever leave me... Ever."

He said nothing. But his arms remained wrapped around her, holding her warm body against his broad chest until dawn's first light.