But there is one thing that has changed, against my will. I find myself allowing him to watch my back, instead of doing it myself. And I've noticed myself checking on him as well. I've found that I can concentrate better when I can hear his voice. Not that he needs to be talking. The sound of his breathing, knowing that he is there should I stumble.

We don't talk much. I tend to keep things straightforward and to the point, the point of rudeness. He keeps to himself, and yet remains open and friendly, a skill I still struggle to develop. His abilities are natural; mine come from grueling effort. To be honest, though I envy that about him, I wonder to myself whether that is the fundamental reason why we make such a good team. He excels where I cannot.

Does he see me the same way I see him? I can't tell. He is difficult to read, besides what he lets show. I respect him, certainly. I'm sure he holds a measure of respect for me, as well. He isn't shy about letting people know what he thinks about them, especially if it's negative. Are we friends? He has asserted that we are. I find myself unsure on that subject. It isn't easy to measure relationships between myself and others. I'm not like other people. I don't do the things that normal people do. And I'm very aware of my social failings. He, on the other hand, seems to have plenty of skill in social interaction. Maybe he's right. Maybe in our own way, we are friends. I can say this: He is the only person that I would consider to be a friend. I have peers, mentors, and enemies. He doesn't fit into any of those categories. He is important.

The flaw in our partnership is this: I have come to rely on him. I expect him to be there. I expect him to play as my wingman. I have caught myself issuing an order to him, only to remember that he is gone, on a mission elsewhere, and that I am alone. Since first noticing this, I have become very self-conscious when he is not around. My mind is clearer when he is there. I am at ease with myself, even in the most strenuous circumstances.

He is out right now. I know where he is, and I shouldn't be concerned. But I still can't help but wonder if he is out there, struggling with his solitude as I am; if he is trying to tell me something before he realizes that he is doing his duty alone; if he can concentrate, or if he finds the lack of my presence disconcerting. And even though I want him to do his job well, I can't help but hope that it does.