Spoilers: Possible spoilers up to mid-season three.

Author's Note: So this is my first foray into Leverage fan fiction. I tried to do a straight up job from in-between the episodes. Thanks to my long suffering readers, Perky (listed first because he claims to have been suffering longer) and Jaira. :p

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable Leverage characters, settings, and so on are the property of their respective owners. I'm just borrowing them.

Summary: The Leverage team is called in to help an elderly woman and her friends, but there may be more to the job than they realize. What happens when the marks have plans of their own?

The Blue Hair Job

Meet and Drinks

"Are you sure you should be drinking that?"

"Why not? Everyone else is drinking," the octogenarian pointed out as she motioned to the room full of John McRory's customers. "What kind of person comes to a bar and doesn't drink?" Rose looked to her companion and then pulled the glass of whiskey closer. "Besides, I enjoy a good nip on a cold day."

"I thought you quit drinking some years ago," the younger woman, Marisa, said.

"Did I? I seem to have forgotten." Rose smiled as she sipped the honey-colored liquid.

"Only when it suits you," Marisa said with a soft huff. "You shouldn't be drinking with your medication."

Rose waved an arthritic hand. "A little won't kill me."

Marisa shook her head before turning toward the man and woman sitting across from them at the table. "I'm sorry about Rose, she—"

"Knows how to enjoy herself," Sophie Devereaux finished. She couldn't help but to smile at the exchange.

"I'm disappointed they didn't card me," Rose complained. She sat her drink down on the napkin in front of her and eyed Nathan Ford. "Do you really think you can help us? You're not some sort of schemer, are you?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Nate heard Sophie's soft laugh. Shifting in his seat, he reached for his cup of Irish coffee. They were in a bar after all. "Well, ma'am—"

"I'm not a ma'am," the older woman cut in. "I'm a Rose or a Mrs. Brewster, if you must. I never let my students call me ma'am back in the day and I won't start now."

Appropriately reprimanded, Nate smirked as he drew his drink closer. "Forgive me. Rose. I have been called many things but I don't think schemer is one of them."

"I think that's a pretty accurate assessment," Sophie purred.

Nate just looked at her.

"What?" She didn't even play innocent.

Shaking his head, he turned back to the other two women. "So, your concern about Mr. Winslow's death."

"Bernard's death was ruled an accident," Marisa said. "That may very well be the truth; he was 92. Heavily dependent on a walker to get around. Even then, it was getting very difficult." She glanced at Rose. "It was time for a nursing home."

"Bernard wasn't clumsy." Rose tapped the table showing her displeasure. "He used to work on roofs with my dear William. They were the best of friends." Her gaze shifted with some unspoken memory. "Had perfect balance. The man had to be part monkey."

"Look," Marisa began even as she reached out to Rose and patted the pink sweater that covered her shoulder. "Bernard's health was failing. We both know that." She turned to meet Nate's even gaze. "His mind was still sharp. No one could explain why his watch and wedding ring were missing. He never took them off. He kept Emily's cross with her picture by his bed. He didn't give them away. He didn't sell them." She pushed a dark strand of curly hair back from her face. "His death was ruled an accident. Things were financially tight for him, and we can't prove he had any of those items prior to his death. The police say just because there is no record of him selling or giving them away doesn't automatically mean they were stolen. There's no reason for suspicion."

"But you're suspicious," Nate said.

"Of course I'm suspicious!" Rose was adamant. "I've known Bernard for more than sixty years." She grabbed her purse, sitting it in her lap and searched through the main compartment. Producing a lavender piece of paper, she slid it across the table to Nate with a shaky hand.

Nate took the paper and unfolded it. There were at least a dozen names and detailed lists of different items each claimed had gone missing.

"We've been playing detective," Rose said proudly. "I talked to all my friends at the senior center and some of them are missing things too. These aren't things they would just lose or give away and forget about."

Sophie leaned closer to Nate and he caught a whiff of her perfume. Something expensive. Probably from some exclusive boutique in Paris.

"Almost all of it is jewelry," Sophie noted.

"I've been searching pawn shops in my free time," Marisa began, "on the wisdom that stolen jewelry and such end up in places like that. I found Bernard's watch and a necklace that belonged to Mrs. McGillicutty at this place in Belbridge. It's called Lucky A's Pawn and Loan." Her words drifted off, as her gaze grew distant. "I think if something happened to Bernard, and whoever took his things knows I've been snooping around."

Shock lit Rose's blue eyes. "What?"

"I think someone has been watching me since I got the watch and necklace back."

Nate was still going over the list. He had expected there to be other victims, he just didn't expect the list to be handed to him so readily.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Rose asked. Worried.

"I don't think they are following us. Not today. Everyone thinks I'm taking you to a specialist here in Boston."

"Oh," Rose said with a look of understanding. She shook her white crowned head. "Oh. That's why that nosy Mary Holland kept asking me what was wrong and if I was going to that new medical center." Rose stopped and looked at Sophie and then to Nate. "It's embarrassing to not be able to take care of yourself. People come and take whatever they want. Bernard, in his youth was a fighter. He wouldn't take guff from no one and would as soon put them on the ground than let someone run over him or anyone he cared about." The fight seemed to drain from her. "But he grew old. He couldn't fight back. Do you understand?"

Nate nodded. His thoughts drifted to a life before. "It's not just helplessness. There's frustration. Anger. Grief. You think that you should be able to take care of everything, fix every problem, but you can't. You feel completely alone." He leaned back in his chair, the list falling to the table in front of him. "You don't have to be." From his jacket pocket, he pulled out a business card and a pen. Pausing, he looked to Marisa. "Do you feel like you are still in danger?" His tone was subdued.

"No," Marisa said with a shake of her head. "It's scary. I won't lie. After I realized someone was watching me, I quit looking for stuff, quit going to the pawnshops. I just shut up and they seem to have backed off." She laughed. "I guess that's all they wanted."

"Don't involve yourself anymore," Nate said calmly. He pressed the card to the table and scribbled Eliot's contact information on it. "If you think you or Rose are in danger, don't hesitate to call this number."

Relief washed over Marisa as she took the card and looked it over. She then pressed her hand to Rose's. Confusion lit her features. "What kind of investigators are you exactly?"

Nate smiled. "Let's just say we take up where the law leaves off."