Summary: After the Maltese Falcon Job, Nate and Sterling have a much-needed talk. Well, Sterling vents and Nate is... Nate. Told from Sterling's POV.
A/N: This just kind of popped into my head after watching the Maltese Falcon Job. It went a different direction than what I originally thought it would, but I'm okay with that. Constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated.
Rating: T for a few swear words.
Disclaimer: Don't own, not making any profit.
I could tell Nate wasn't really sleeping. You can't fake sleep when you're attached to a heart monitor. So, I sat down in the requisite uncomfortable hospital chair next to him and waited for Nate to open his eyes.
"Hello, Nate."
"Sterling. What the hell are you doing here? You already have my statement, can't you just leave me alone?"
"I wanted to talk to you, Nate, somewhere you couldn't disappear." I paused, but Nate didn't respond. "You know, talking? That thing people do when they have issues they need to work out?"
"Well, sorry, but the only issue I have right now is that the food here tastes like crap. You know anyone I could speak to about that?" Nate turned away...
... and he still knew how to push my buttons. "You were shot, Nate! What was that for? And while you're at it, mind explaining why you changed our agreement?" I already had an idea what his answer would be, but I wanted to hear it from him. I was having trouble figuring out what he was thinking these days.
"Turning them in and walking free myself felt... wrong. They... they're the closest thing to friends or family I have now, and... I don't know," he trailed off.
For some reason I'll never understand, that hurt. "What about me, Nate? What happened to what we used to be?"
"We were never friends, Sterling. Just coworkers." I knew why that hurt.
"Really? What about all those times you got yourself utterly smashed and I let you stay at my place because you didn't want Maggie to see you like that? When I took as many of your overseas cases as I could so you could stay close to Sam? All the times I lied for you, so Blackpoole wouldn't find out you were spending more time at the hospital and bars than you were at your job? Would "just a coworker" have done that for you?"
"Jim, I..." He obviously wanted to deny it, but he couldn't, not the way I'd said it. I chose to ignore the fact that he'd called me by my first name.
"I still know exactly how your mind works, but I don't know you anymore, Nate. What happened?"
He didn't answer for a long time. His eyes closed and, for a second, I thought he'd actually fallen asleep, until he said, "I changed, Sterling. I'm not the by-the-book guy I used to be. I... I'm a thief."
That was complete bull. "You never were by-the-book, Nate. That you think you used to be just goes to show how skewed your worldview is now. I just want to help, Nate."
His eyes flew open again. "What can I say, Sterling? What can I say to explain myself? I'm just a jaded, bitter misanthrope with control issues trying to get revenge on the society that caused my son's death? Tell me what you want to hear, and I'll say it, even if it's a blatant lie, just to get you to leave me alone."
Well, that went well. There went any chance he might actually tell me what the hell was going on in his head. But there was still one thing I wanted to know. "You're much more complicated than that, Nate, and we both know it. All I want to know is how you can suddenly call four thieves you've known for all of two years more honorable than someone you worked with for over a decade."
He took his time answering again. "At first... they were in it for themselves, which made them predictable, and I could control that. Then, they started to like it. They're not doing this for themselves any more."
"And you think I am?" I said, before I caught myself. I mean, I know I have issues opening up to people, but I thought Nate knew me better than that. I'd more or less told him why I decided to work for IYS back when we still worked together. I'd hoped he remembered that, but it looked like he'd done his best to repress any memories where I acted like a human being. Well, if he wanted to see me like that, there wasn't anything I could do. And there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell I was telling him that story again. If he'd forgotten it, too bad.
This conversation was obviously going nowhere, so I got up to leave. I was at the door when I realized what he'd done there. To cover up the realization I'd made that second, I turned around and told him one I'd made not long after he'd first called himself a thief: "You know, I don't think you see yourself as a thief, not really. You see yourself as Robin Hood. A bloody martyr Robin Hood of a puppet-master, pulling just the right strings to get people to do exactly what you want. Someday, someone's going to pull back, and your little game is all going to come crashing down on your head. And... I hope I'm there when it happens. Not to gloat, or say 'I told you so.' You're going to need someone there to help pick up the pieces, Nate, and your team isn't going to stick around."