Spoilers: 4x10 The Queen's Gambit Job
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
A/N: Written for the leverageland TV Tropes challenge - my trope was My Greatest Failure (hence the inventive title).
And a big thank you again to mizzy2k for beta-ing :)
The longer the night, the drunker Nate Ford became.
He had long passed the 'functioning' stage of his drunkenness that he usually prided himself on, but it had already been clear to him when he had started drinking hours earlier, that tonight merited a more excessive intake of alcohol. Supporting his increasingly heavy head with one hand, he used the other to cling to his glass as if his life depended on it; white knuckles being the only apparent sign of his desperate state of mind.
Even though it had been the alcohol that had gotten him into this situation in the first place, it seemed to be the only thing that helped (or so he told himself). He had been drinking himself into oblivion for hours and yet the guilt was still gnawing at him, which in turn only made him reach for the bottle in more and more frequent intervals. Oblivion. So close, he kept thinking with each glass he emptied – sometimes taking slow sips, other times throwing its contents back in one go – but always just out of reach.
Nate knew he should have known better, but again he had ignored the team's warnings and run off, blindly following his heart. There were kids involved. Kids in hospital beds. And he, Nate Ford, had leaned out of the window a bit too far, thus risking his team's welfare... and now he was paying dearly.
He had sent them after the mark, another big insurance boss who was ignoring the claims of people in need, going all out and now Sophie was in the FBI's custody, imprisoned for art theft. His Jimmy Papadokalis alias was not nearly good enough a lawyer to get Sophie out of this mess he'd gotten her in. She had told him to go slower, steadier, to keep their identities safe; he'd been the one who'd pushed her, pushed her so far that the mark had gotten suspicious. And then... then things had moved so fast his drunken head was beginning to spin just thinking about it. The NYPD had arrested her on some ridiculous charge because the mark was a powerful man; and then the FBI had gotten wind of the arrest. Some agent who had worked a case on Sophie years ago had recognized the face on the rap sheet...
Letting out a pained groan, Nate reached for the bottle and poured himself another drink. Some of the golden liquid spilled on the wooden surface of the bar and he found himself transfixed with the reflection of the dim lights in the drops. Another groan escaped his mouth as he slowly tried to raise his glass to his lips, hands shaking and spilling more liquor. When the drink had almost reached its destination, a strong hand reached for it and easily took it away from him. For a moment Nate hardly realized what was going on; then the loud thud the glass made as it met the bar made him jump and he finally turned his head to look into Eliot's angry face.
"Get your shit together, man!" the team's Hitter told Nate in a voice a lot louder than necessary, before roughly pulling him off his bar stool by his shirt collar. Legs not withstanding the unexpected weight, it was Eliot's tight grip again that steadied Nate. "Is that really necessary, Eliot?" he asked unkindly, stretching out his arm in search of his drink. Before he could reach the glass, however, Eliot's jaw muscles tensed and Nate jumped yet again at the unexpected sound of breaking glass. It took him a moment to make sense of Eliot's actions, but when he did, more slurred words left his lips. "That was good liquor, Eliot."
"Come on Nate," Eliot simply barked in reply and all but dragged Nate away from the bar. Getting him upstairs to his flat was quite an act, even for a strong man like Eliot; even after he pushed Nate under an ice cold shower, the alcohol's effect hardly seemed to weaken. Nonetheless, Eliot sat Nate down on his couch with a strong cup of coffee, his strong fingers pressing into Nate's shoulders. "Sober up, man, there's an FBI prison we have to break into," he told him, face still set in an angry frown. "You can't leave Sophie hanging now, she's counting on you, damnit!"
The words passed Nate like a foreign language and he stared blankly into Eliot's eyes until the latter gave him a resounding slap. "Snap out of it!"
"It's all my fault..." was the only response, quietly muttered, that Eliot received, before Nate slipped out of his grip and started snoring.
.
Huddled up in a corner, Sophie had her arms wrapped around her legs, head resting on her knees, eyes fixed on the door of the hold up cell. Prison – any criminal's worst nightmare. Despite her long career as a grifter, Sophie had never actually been in lock up. At least the FBI'd had the courtesy to let her wear her own clothes, as she didn't know what she wold have done had they put her in one of those hideous orange jumpsuits. Wearing those must be worse than death by lethal injection, she thought (for what must have been the hundredth time), while running her fingers up and down her light grey cashmere pullover to calm her nerves. Her usually so carefully made up face was pale, letting her dark eyes stand out even more than usual – haunted and filled with actual fear. She looked small in her corner, her grifter self esteem shattered into little pieces during the humiliating arrest two days earlier; in private at least.
As soon as the FBI Agent assigned to her case was in sight, Sophie immediately straightened up. She changed her position, dropping her long legs from the edge of the uncomfortable bed and slipping her feet into her black Jimmy Choos. The heels, as silly as she knew it would sound to anyone if she actually admitted it out loud, made her feel grounded and more like her old self again. The cell was open and the Agent casually leaned against the wall.
"Ready to answer some questions, Miss Grey?" he asked, motioning her to stand up.
Sophie complied, silently thanking the Gods that the FBI hadn't caught up with her Sophie Devereaux alias. At least that would be safe for the moment, and she trusted Hardison to keep it out of any records. The downside to having so many aliases was that one of them would inevitably pop up in some database or other and she had completely forgotten about her brief encounter with a young FBI Agent years ago.
Luck had not been on her side when it was exactly that agent who was at the police station during her arrest. It had to happen sooner or later, she had told herself. Part of her had always known they would get to her sooner or later, even though she had never imagined that with the whole team at her back it would come so far. The team at her back... Sophie snorted quietly at the irony, causing the Agent that was guiding her to an interrogation room to raise an eyebrow in question. The true irony was that she had always thought Nate would bring her down eventually, and now it had happened. The circumstances, of course, were a lot different than what they had been back in the days when he had actually been chasing her, but the bottom line was that it had indeed been Nathan Ford who had gotten Sophie behind bars.
Her train of thoughts was cut short, as they had reached the interrogation room. Back to her usual attitude, if only as a mask to hide her true state of mind, she sat down in the chair that was offered to her, casually crossing her legs to show their best side. "I don't plan on saying anything, Agent... What was it again?"
"Burke. Agent Peter Burke."
"You're wasting your time, Agent Burke," she told him with a coquettish smile on her lips, leaning forward a bit and focusing on his eyes. He had a nice enough face, but then he was a Fed and they were always the enemy.
"Well, Miss Grey... Jennifer, I do think it would be to all our benefit if you talked."
"I honestly don't see why, Agent Burke. All the evidence you have against me is circumstantial; even if you tried, you wouldn't get a conviction."
"Don't be so sure of that, Miss Grey."
Sophie's eyes widened in a bout of momentary panic, but she caught herself again in a matter of seconds. "You're bluffing," was her only response, before the door was opened, abruptly ending the interview.
"Jim Sterling, Interpol."
This time Sophie was unable to hide her surprise, as she turned around to see none other than the real Jim Sterling, apparently coming to her rescue.
"Agent Burke, I apologize for any inconvenience we might have caused you, but Jenny here –" he stressed the nickname with a smile and nod towards Sophie, "Is an undercover Agent of ours. I've filled out all the necessary paperwork. Feel free to look it over, but she's coming with me."
.
The drive back to Boston had been wrapped in an awkward silence, as Sophie had refused to speak with Sterling after the court "Thank yo," outside the FBI in New York. Even though it was impolite towards Sterling, she wanted to hear the team's explanation first. Parker was the first to jump Sophie as she and her unexpected savior entered McRory's bar back in Boston. A whispered "I would have broken you out," from the blonde thief immediately made Sophie smile and she hugged Parker gratefully. "I know, Parker."
Sterling was staying behind in the shadows as Sophie was welcomed back by Hardison and Eliot, the latter of who gave her an almost bone crushing hug. "I'm so glad you're back," he murmured into her hair, before quickly regaining posture as well as his usual grim look. Looking around the bar, Sophie realized that one important part of the team was missing – Nate was nowhere in sight. "Where is..." she started, then let the sentence trail off. "Okay, who wants to explain how Sterling figures into all of this?"
Looks were exchanged between Hardison, Parker and Eliot, until the latter finally started to speak. "Well, as you can imagine, Nate kind of lost it when you got locked up... Hardison and Parker were planning to break you out of jail, but it was too risky. We already were one man down, I really didn't want to put either of them at risk... so I called him." Eliot nodded towards Sterling with an unfriendly grunt, not realizing he had pretty much lost Sophie at the 'Nate lost it' part of his explanation. "I figured he still owed us for the whole Olivia business... and maybe I threatened to find him and break his legs if he didn't help, so well. There you go."
"Can I leave now?" Sterling – his presence all but forgotten – was still standing near the door, at the mention of broken bones obviously itching to get as far out of Eliot's reach as possible. Eliot gave him a brief nod of approval, before Sterling did the same towards Sophie. "Jenny... always a pleasure to see you," he told her, his tone insincere as always, before quietly slipping out of the bar.
"Thank you Eliot... but where was Nate in all this?" Sophie asked at last, but the words had barely left her lips when the person in question entered the bar. The team took the cue and left Nate and Sophie alone (though not before Parker tackled Sophie again). Hands in his pockets, eyes fixed to the floor, Nate clearly didn't know how to handle the situation, or even how to start the actual conversation. "Well, don't you have something to say to me, Nate?" Sophie asked, getting tired of his hesitance at last.
Nate finally looked up. "I can't even begin to apologize, Sophie. I... I let things get out of hand and... and..." Stumbling over his words, Nate focused on the floor again. Sophie was ready to turn on her heels and leave without another word, but Nate got hold of her wrist and pulled her towards himself. "I'm sorry, Sophie. I won't let it happen again."
For a long moment, Sophie just looked at him, quietly shaking her head. When Nate dropped his head again in shame and regret, her hand collided with his cheek in a ringing slap.
It caught him off guard and he stumbled backwards, but he knew all too well that he'd deserved it. "Sophie..." he began again, but once more she surprised him, by suddenly throwing her arms around his neck in an unexpected embrace.
"Just don't you ever dare to do this to me again."