A/N: This was written for LJ for The Bank Shot Job. For some reason I really liked how this turned out! Hope y'all like it.

I'm Still Here

It wasn't the most normal Sunday morning. Nate could guarantee that. The team had just arrived back in Chicago late yesterday night but by that time the morphine that Parker had given him had worn off. His shoulder had been screaming in pain from where he had been shot but all the stores were closed due to the late hour so he wasn't able to get any more. He was forced to wait until the morning when one of them could stop by the store and get him some strong painkillers.

He hadn't gotten much sleep most of the night because his shoulder throbbed in so much pain. The only thing he could do was count down the seconds until he could take more Advil. Although the Advil didn't really do much except help with his headache. He was laying on his bed wide awake but feeling as though he could sleep for eternity when his phone had rung. The only reason he had answered the damn call was because he was in so much pain and he figured it was probably one of the thieves telling him that they were bringing over medicine. Thankfully it was Sophie and she had already gotten his medicine but she just needed to know where he lived so she could bring it over to him.

After giving her crystal clear directions to the house he was staying in he pulled himself out of bed and walked upstairs to go tell Mildred that he was expecting company. Well, a woman named Sophie. He had been living with Mildred since their first job, and he resided in the basement of her small house. She was understanding of him, and didn't really care what he did as long as he didn't break anything and went around purposely causing trouble. So when he told her Sophie was coming over she just told him that she'd keep an eye out for her and that he should probably go lay down again.

It wasn't until much later that Sophie had finally showed up. He could faintly hear their conversation and the click of the grifters heels from where he lay in his bed, and this made him smile. Even though he was in pain he managed to pull himself up from his bed once again and change his shirt without ripping his stitches out. He was buttoning the last button on his clean shirt when Sophie walked in.

"This is not what I was expecting," Was the first thing out of Sophies mouth.

The room she stood in was relatively small. His bed was nestled in the farthest left corner of the room underneath a tiny window that let in a small amount of light. The sheets were in a haphazard mess from him twisting and turing through the entire night. Next to his bed was a nightstand and he had a tall glass of water and an open of bottle of advil on it. Behind his water was the picture that Sam had drawn him in a nice frame. As for the rest of the room there really wasn't much. There was a dresser that sat on the opposite wall of his bed and a small mirror sitting on top of it. Next to the dresser was a door that led to what she supposed was his bathroom, and next to that was a small couch and coffee table. A television sat on the other wall, but it wasn't the sleek new kind they sold these days. It was an older, bulkier one that she supposed didn't get more than a couple channels.

As Sophie ventured more into the room she saw the bookcase that sat perpendicular to his couch, sitting against the staircase. She also noticed how neat and tidy everything was. It seemed that even though she had known him for so many years she still didn't really know what he was like when he was off a job or when he wasn't chasing her. Part of her wished that she would've come to know that man, but now he was gone. The death of his son had changed all that. Now he was a different man. And she knew wondered what he was like when he was home alone in this place. This place that seemed so meager and simple that it was fit for a poor man, not one with enough money to buy an island three times over.

Sophie looked around the room again and noticed Nate had gotten his glass of water off his nightstand and vanished into the door by his dresser. She took a couple steps forward and peeked into the room that he was in. To her surprise it was actually a kitchen and not a bathroom. The kitchen was narrow and there wasn't much counter space but it had managed to jam all appliances in and give just enough cabinet space. She watched him dump out the the glass of water that he had and then get himself a fresh glass.

"Why are you living her Nate? It's not exactly the type of thing you'd see a millionaire living in," Sophie commented. The millionaire thing might've sound like a joke to other people but she was dead serious. After that job they were all millionaires, especially Nate.

"Mildred needs the money more than I need some place nice to live."

And that hit one of Sophie's heartstrings. She looked down at her feet, feeling ashamed of herself for always being such a greedy person. Here was Nate giving his money to an old woman who needed it and had given a ton of his other money to a children's charity, and then there was her. She had bought herself two islands.

"Can I have my medicine? My shoulders been killing me since we got back," Nate said, slightly irritated.

This broke the grifters train of though and she snapped her head back up to look at him, but only to hang her head in shame again. She stepped into the kitchen and set her purse on the counter so she could dig through it's contents. Her fingers brushed over the plastic bottle and she curled her nimble fingers around the container. She pulled it out and handed it to him. Her hand stay extended slightly for a moment, but then she curled her fingers her and pulled her hand away.

Nate took his pills and gulped down his water. He was thankful for the cold water to help cool him off for he had been sweating horribly since they got back. His chapped lips and parched mouth welcomed the coolness greatfully. He felt it trickle down to his stomach, making him shiver, but not affecting the sweat that dripped down his back and his sides and his forehead.

"Nate, you look awful."

"Thanks, that's sweet of you," He replied rough, monotonously.

There was sweat dripping down his forehead and she really preferred if she didn't have to touch it but she figured asking him to wipe it off would be rather rude. She reached up and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. It was scorching. "Geez, Nate! You're burning up! How long have you had a fever, and why didn't you tell anyone about it?"

"Probably all night. I've been taking Advil but it's not doing crap to help it," He sighed. The tiredness in his voice had grown apparent, his eyelids drooping ever so slightly, and his shoulders slouching under an inate, invisible weight. His black dress shirt hanging limply from his shoulders like a deflated ballon with the buttons in the wrong holes and the fabric heavily wrinkled.

Sophie couldn't bare to see him look so pitiful and in the doll drums so she took him by his wrist and guided him back over to his small bed. His feet shuffled across the wooden floors, once again hinting at his tiredness, and contrasting with the sharp click of her heels. He nearly collapsed onto the bed purposely but she stopped him with the light touch of her hands on his chest. Her nimble fingers began to pop the buttons out of their incorrect holes until his shirt hung open and then she helped him remove it.

She did her absolute best not to drool over over his sexy body but he really did make it difficult. With just a bit of the waist band of his boxer briefs showing and his flat, toned body on display for her, she was about ready to jump him. It was the first time she had seen him shirtless like this and up close, and for a long moment she forgot what she was doing. The Mastermind wasn't saying anything. Inside he silently was priding himself in the fact he had her entranced for the time being. However, when the trance broke he acted as though he hadn't noticed her staring.

Her eyes were glued to his torso still, and so much that she didn't notice him when he bent down and began to remove his sweatpants. Had he not been in so much pain and so tired he might have cared that Sophie was staring at him. However, he just wanted to lay down and sleep for eternity until all the pain went away. She obviously liked what she was seeing, which made it only the slightest bit easier for him to undress in front of her. Well, that and his boxers hid most of his ugly scars.

The second that she realized Nate was only in his tight boxer briefs she had to bite her lip to hold back a moan. He looked so ungodly sexy. His back was mostly turned to her so she was staring at his ass, wondering when in the hell did it start looking that good. When he turned around slightly her eyes grew wide. She instantly snapped her head up to look at him, face burning red. "A-are you...?"

"Only in your boxers?" He finished for her. "Yes, Sophie, I am," He sighed tiredly. The sheets to his bed were a tangled mess and he just pulled them all off so they were out of his way.

A plethora of colorful textiles pooled around Sophie's ankles as all the blankets and sheets fell to the floor. She pushed them out of her way using the tip of her heels and then took a seat on the edge of his bed. From where she sat she could see him watching her from under his drooping eyelids. She smiled weakly at him and then looked down at her lap. "I was so afraid that I was going to lose you," She whispered, playing with the tips of her fingers.

"Of course you were."

She looked back at him with a serious look ground into her beautiful features. The rims of her eyes were slightly red as her emotions began to waver. "Don't be so dismissive about it, Nate. You could have died."

His lips twisted into a wry smirk, chuckling inwardly. He remembered a phrase he had heard when he was a young boy, but even though he couldn't quite remember who had said it in his incoherent phase he thought it fit the situation. "Luck of the Irish."

"I'm serious, Nathan."

He sighed heavily, the smirk on his lips fading, and his gaze turning distant and solemn. His fingertips stretch slightly and he almost reaches out to hold her hand, but he falters, and sighs once again. "I'm still here."

"Yeah," She laughs sourly, pressing her lips into a thin line to hold back her tears. Sophie looked over at him with a sad smile on her face and unshed tears that made her eyes glitter. "Yeah...you're still here."

Even though she tries so hard to hide the pain in her voice he can still hear it. Her voice cracks faintly on her last word, and he knows she's doing her best not to cry. He wishes he could hold her. Maybe one day...maybe. His eyes open suddenly and he feels the edges of sleep retract. "Hey, Soph, maybe you should go before I fall asleep on you. This morphine is kicking my ass."

"Yeah, you're probably right. I'll come check on you later tonight to change your bandage. Sleep well."

Her soft, sincere voice makes him smile to himself. She had always been a caring, loving person no matter what kind of persona she threw up, and it was rare these days that he ever got to see that. It was nice for a change. He feels the weight on the bed shift as she stands up and then the echoing click of her heels on the wooden floors as she walks away. Before the welcoming darkness of sleep engulfs him he says on last thing to her. "I couldn't leave you in there."

"I know."