Summary: Companion piece to my story Faking It, but can be read on its own. Sterling tells Nate why he decided to work for IYS. Told from Sterling's POV.

A/N: When I was writing Faking It, I wrote a line about Sterling having told Nate a long time ago why he decided to work for IYS. I started wondering what that story was, and this happened. All I know about insurance and law education I learned from Wikipedia, so I'm not sure how accurate some of it is. Consider it artistic license. Constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated.

Rating: T for a few swear words.

Disclaimer: Don't own, not making any profit.

I'd been working at IYS for four years when Jamie Newbury moved out of our shared office and Nate Ford moved in. He was all of 29 and the consummate "new guy." He was brilliant, though, and that was the only reason I didn't ignore him out-of-hand.

It was during those early years, when we were both, as Nate had once put it, "lowly footsoldiers," that we became friends, and began our tradition of having an after work drink on the roof.

He'd been there about seven or eight months, and we'd only been going up to the roof for drinks for about two months, when he suddenly asked me, "Do you like working here?"

I shrugged. "I suppose. It's better than starving. Not quite what was in the brochure, though, either."

He gave me a curious look. "What do you mean?"

I sighed. I knew, if I answered him honestly, I would probably end up telling him way more of my life story than I wanted to. Brushing him off or lying would probably destroy our friendship, though, new and untested as it was. Nate was the only real friend I'd had since college, a person I could actually talk to without snapping at or otherwise pushing away. I'd decided I liked that, and didn't want to lose it. So, against all my instincts, I answered honestly.

"When I applied, I thought I'd be helping people, not chasing after idiots trying to save a couple bucks or cheat the system."

That, as I predicted, only made him more curious. "Helping people? Where'd that come from?"

Here-and I'm not ashamed to admit it-I deliberately closed myself off-hunched shoulders, crossed arms, looked away, the whole nine yards-in the hope that Nate would get the message that I really did not want to talk about this and back off. He undoubtedly got the message, but he didn't say anything, just stood there and looked at me. I knew he was giving me the silent treatment to get me to talk, but... damn it, there's a reason that works.

"During my second year of university, I rented a flat with three other guys. Two of them were friends from secondary or something, so they were always out together, which left me and the other guy. His name was Alex Collins. We got to know each other pretty well, had a lot of classes together, became friends. The four of us shared that flat for, oh, almost three years. I don't remember where the other two went, but after we graduated, Alex and I went to law school. Purely coincidentally, we both ended up getting accepted at Harvard. We decided what the hell, might as well be roommates there, too. Halfway through our second year, his parents died. Car accident. Their insurance company screwed up. They refused to honor his mother's policy, some bull about a technicality in the accidental death clause. He took it to court, lost. Ended up paying about $20,000 in fees. Other costs ate up all his parents' assets and his father's life insurance and then some. He was already in some debt from school, but that pushed it over the edge and he had to drop out. He went straight to work as a secretary in some penny-ante law firm. After that, I switched my focus to insurance law. I tried to keep in touch with him, but... he was so busy, I was so busy. Eventually we both just stopped calling. Last I knew he was working a day job at a law firm and taking night classes to try and finish his degree. That was... over five years ago."

Nate was silent for a long time. I hadn't been able to look at him the whole time I was talking, and I couldn't get up the courage to now. He'd either figure it out or he wouldn't.

"Sterling... the insurance company. Was it-?"

"Yes."

"... Damn."

We both left it at that.