Disclaimer: I don't own Leverage.
In her youth, Maggie had been a fiercely independent woman. She'd been the first in her family to go to college, then to graduate school; had become a highly respected expert in her field before she was thirty; had earned more money in a year than her father did in five; and had, most importantly, done all of this without relying on a man. It was easy, then, to think that she would never want or need a man in her life, to imagine that she could be alone and happy forever.
Then she met Nate.
She'd liked him from the start. He'd been as skilled in his profession as she was in hers. And, just as her gender tended to isolate her, so his intelligence set him apart from his peers.
For Nate, manipulation was instinctive. He never seemed to stop doing it, carelessly soothing ruffled feathers, quickly rising to the top of the office hierarchy. But he never tried to manipulate her, and that was why she fell in love with him. It did not occur to her until years later that the lack of apparent manipulation was a form of manipulation in itself.
For the first time, she reconsidered her decision not to have a family. It wasn't that she needed Nate. (Though she did want him.) It wasn't that she swooned in his presence. (Though his smile had a powerful effect on her.) It was that she could imagine waking up next to him every morning. She could picture their daughter's face.
She asked him on a date a year and a half after they met. To her surprise, he seemed taken aback, stuttering, blinking rapidly, before saying, "Really? I mean, yes!"
They were married two years later. Two years after that, Sam was born and their family was complete. For a time.
When Sam died, so did Maggie's family.
It was difficult for her, running into Nate several years after the divorce. The sight of him brought back all of the old memories, stirred up feelings she'd worked hard to suppress. Yet there was a part of her—a small, shameful part—that was pleased to see that Nate was still broken. He was a drunk, living out of his car. At least Maggie had kept her dignity. At least she'd proven herself stronger than him. So what if she was dead inside?
Then she met Nate's team.
After the debacle involving the two Davids, she told Nate that she liked this new version of him. That was true. What she didn't tell him was that she hated him, too. Hated him because he'd begun to move on, to remake himself into a different, darker, Nate. Hated him because he'd proven himself stronger than her and didn't even realize it.
Hated him because somehow he'd built himself another family, and she knew—the same way she'd known, on their first date, that she would be in love with him forever—that she never, ever could.