He finds (more like stumbles upon) her at a coffee shop in Damascus.
Nate doesn't even realize it's her to begin with as he waits in line with a file in one hand and glancing at his watch on the other. It's not until she reaches the counter and he catches a glimpse of her profile when she turns - pointing at something out of view, that he recognizes her.
It's been two years but Nate can't deny the facts.
She looks a little older (barely) and her hair is a little longer but it's definitely the woman from Prague. The one who he chased through the streets until he was turned around and out of sorts as well as breath. He wonders how to handle the situation because she is an art thief after all and he still works for IYS, but then she turns and catches his eye - and she smiles.
And if that doesn't throw him for a loop.
Nate tightens his hold on the file as he stares at her. She turns back to the counter long enough to get her coffee and he feels his stomach churn as she comes toward him. No fear. No hesitation. It's obvious she recognizes him. She's smiling too much for that not to be the case. Her blue dress sways in the gentle breeze coming through the door the closer she gets and then she stops, leaving an arms length of space between them. He's still trying to figure the situation out, trying to figure her out, when she shuffles her coffee from one hand to the other.
"I don't believe we've properly met," she offers her right hand to him and as he reaches to take it Nate realizes that he's never heard her voice before. Looking her over, he finds that it suits her. Smooth as silk and as thick as honey, rich in substance.
His hand curls around hers in a gentle squeeze as he clears his throat, "No, I don't believe that we have Miss-"
"Devereaux," her hand tightens around his for a fraction of a second. Her eyes twinkle with what seems to be mischief. "Sophie Devereaux."
"Nathan. Nathan Ford." He doesn't know why he offers his name except that it's good manners and he was raised to have manners. That or his Catholic upbringing is kicking in. Nate knows he should be trying to catch her. Instead he finds himself curious, "I don't suppose you're here to steal anything, are you?"
Sophie laughs. It's a warm sound that settles in his gut and raises the hairs at the back of his neck. She raises her coffee in a mock salute as her hand slips from his. "I think we'll be seeing each other again, Mr. Ford."
She leaves and Nate watches her go.
Later that night when he catches up with her at the museum, she calls him Nathan.