This is directly inspired by Lear's Daughter's story, A Kind of Kindness. Originally I was going to write this fic with Sophie, given her past history with Nate. But as I thought about the logistics I realized that out of all four thieves preseries, this actually fit Eliot the best. Caringbridge is a charity funded social networking site for people with serious health issues (like cancer), giving them an easy way to keep in touch and give updates to all the family and friends who are concerned about them. Thanks to moviefreak4634 for Beta reading this for me.
"Sometimes bad guys are the only good guys you get. " Parker, The Bank Shot Job
The Only Good Guys You Get
The absolute last thing Nathan Ford wanted to come home to after visiting his sick son in the hospital was Eliot Spencer sitting at his kitchen table chatting with his wife. It didn't help that last time Nate had seen the hitter it was behind bars in a Pakistani jail. It took a moment to connect that angry man with broken ribs and two black eyes to the charming, good looking man drinking Maggie's tea. For one of the most wanted and dangerous men Nate had the misfortune of chasing, Eliot Spencer cleaned up nicely.
"Nate," Maggie said her voice almost, but not quite light, as nothing these days could fully erase her constant strain and worry. "Eliot was just telling me how..." Her voice trailed off as she became aware of the tension between her husband and her guest. Frowning, she glanced between the two men. "Nate?" she asked.
Later Nate would have the time to mentally berate himself that in his attempts to protect Maggie from the worst aspects of his job, he had left her unable to recognize the danger a man like Eliot represented. At the moment, he had to deal with the threat at hand. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.
Eliot rose from the table. "Perhaps we should talk in private," suggested the hitter, southern accent particularly thick, as it always was when charming a mark.
Being alone in a room with Eliot Spencer was not a smart idea, but at least then Maggie wouldn't have to be involved. "We can talk in my office." Once the door was safely shut Nate demanded, "What did you tell my wife?"
"That we're colleagues, just didn't mention we play for opposing teams." Eliot looked unusually ill at ease, especially given that in their current situation the hitter had the advantage. Eliot could probably beat Nate to within an inch of his life before the insurance man could even cry for help.
"If I ever catch you within a hundred feet of my wife, I'm calling the cops on you. Stay away from Maggie." It was a somewhat empty threat. If Eliot truly wanted to hurt Maggie, the police probably couldn't stop him.
"I'm not wanted in the States," Eliot reminded him quietly, his own acknowledgement that he knew the threat was just a bluff.
Nate waited for Eliot to state his business. When the criminal remained silent, Nate demanded, "What are you doing here?"
Another silence stretched. This had to be the most uncomfortable Nate had ever seen the other man. Just what was he up to? Finally, Eliot said quietly, "I know about your son."
"You don't know anything," Nate shot back instantly.
Eliot coughed. "Awhile ago I was getting ready to do a job that involved IYS. I did a check on you. I found your Caringbridge site."
The color drained from Nate's face. That site wasn't meant for people like Eliot. "That isn't any of your business," he said, angry that the thief had seen something so personal.
"Maybe," the hitter acknowledged, actually sounding embarrassed. He removed a folded piece of paper and handed it to the investigator. Nate did his best to open the paper without taking his eyes off the other man. But when he saw what the paper was, he couldn't help but stare at it. In his hands he held a check made out to him from someone he'd never heard of, for a lot of money. "It's an old alias with a clean record," Eliot explained, "I even put in extra so you can declare it as a gift and pay taxes on it, like the honest man you are."
"Is this supposed to be a bribe?" Nate demanded, so furious he could hardly talk.
"No. I already know you would never accept a bribe. But that money isn't yours; it's for Sam. I read your latest entry- that treatment you mentioned, it really might work. I know you can't afford it, though, and IYS..." Eliot gave a humorless chuckle, "You know what kind of company it is under Blackpoole. They're never gonna pay for it. Blackpoole will turn you down or claim he needs to investigate, and stall until it doesn't matter anymore." The thought of what Eliot was implying and the realization that the hitter was likely right took Nate off his feet. He collapsed into his desk chair. Eliot sighed softly, "I know you don't want to take any money from me, but just hang on to the check. In a few days when IYS turns down your claim, you'll be glad you have it." Eliot gave a rueful smile and added, "If it makes your good guy heart feel any better, before this money was mine it belonged to a man who deserved to have it stolen." He moved past Nate to leave.
"Wait," Nate called his voice shaking. There were so many questions going through his head, but he settled for, "Why?"
"Because," Eliot kept his back turned and wouldn't look at him. "Because Sam is just kid. He deserves to live and grow up. Not to have his life cut short so a rich man can get even richer." He left after that, slipping out of the study, leaving Nate alone staring at the check.
Three days later, after the company that he'd helped save millions over the years, sentenced his son to death, Nate deposited the check. Whatever moral objections he had to taking Eliot's money, they weren't worth his son's life.
It was nearly seven months later when Sam was healthy and back in school, that Nate ran into Eliot Spencer again. His investigation for Unity Insurance (He'd quit IYS as soon he could afford to change health insurers.) led him and two armed security guards right to the thief. During the tense standoff with both guards pointing the guns at the hitter, Nate met his eyes and said in an almost inaudible voice choked with gratitude, "Thank you." Eliot gave only the barest nod in reply before violently knocking out the two guards and escaping.