She'd been running all of her life. At least, that's what it felt like every moment of her time with her father. He asked her to pick a few pockets, she did. He asked her to use her youthful good looks to ensnare victims into his cons, she did. He asked her to pull off a sweetheart scam, she did. He told her to marry William to give her alias respectability, she did. He ordered her not to fall in love, she didn't listen.
But none of that mattered now because she was finally free. She had finally escaped his torturous gaze and was free to make her own decisions. Her father had fallen in love too. It was a difficult con for her to pull off at first. She had to steal things right under her father's nose while he was distracted by the newest courtesan that struck his eye. Then he met Maryland Mitchell and suddenly wanted to go to America to be with her every moment of the day. He had no idea Maryland was a grifter Sophie had worked very hard to find. She had to steal a few signature pieces before the woman would agree to help her but it was well worth it. She was finally free to commit whatever crime she wanted to commit and she didn't have to hurt people to do it. She was free.
Then she, literally, ran into Nathan Ford. He'd been chasing her throughout all of Europe for the past couple of years. She knew because she would hear rumors about him being on her trail from new, reliable sources. Sure, that first job in Prague was a huge mistake. She had only just escaped her father's manipulative command. She was still learning all of the different ways her father kept her under his thumb. She didn't know there were such things as merchandise specific alarms or that I.Y.S. was an insurance company that invested in security because it was cheaper than paying for the stolen piece. (Something, she would learn later, that also applied to its own employees and their desperate, dying children.) But she was a quick learner and discovered everything her father had hidden from her throughout her career.
Now, she was in Damascus running into the very man who made her aware of her first major mistake. Well, her freedom was fun while it lasted.
"Well," Nate replied with a light chuckle at her disgruntled nature, "I can honestly say this was unexpected."
Sophie, though she had no idea she was about to choose that as her permanent title, stared at him with a blank expression. She watched as he kindly held out his hand for her to take. She took it but only because she didn't want to further ruin her brand new skirt. He pulled her up with very little effort and kindly waited until she had brushed herself off before he placed the cuff around her wrist. She glared at the play.
"It makes catching you easier," he replied with that little self-satisfied smirk of his.
"If I were that easy to catch it wouldn't have taken you two years to do it," she laughed in a charming tone. She figured she would at least try to seduce him into doing the work for her. (She had yet to learn that he was married with a newborn and thus impossible to con. It was probably why she fell in love with him anyway.)
"I knew it was you," Nate smirked not falling for her tricks despite her best efforts, "Where did the Degas go anyway?"
She raised her eyebrows in challenge. "I don't remember," she said.
The mastermind chuckled at her obvious lie. Then he un-cuffed her and held out his hand for a polite handshake.
"Nathan Ford," he introduced, unknowingly changing both of their lives forever.
"Sophie Devereaux," she replied in a British accent that was a bit more posh than her natural one. Then she grinned in victory at the slight red decorating his cheeks.
"But I'm afraid this meeting is over," she said, one foot already out of the metaphorical door.
His mouth opened wide in shock as she turned to race away. But his footsteps were hard on the pavement behind her. She was running but he wasn't far behind. Every time she ducked behind a corner his feet would sound only seconds later. Eventually she outsmarted him (because he wouldn't have been interested if she didn't) and she got away. They had no idea that was the moment that would define their relationship completely. She would run, but he would chase. Somehow, that made all the difference; to both of them.
%
Sophie reentered the house with amazingly dry eyes. She was probably still in shock of all of the things he told her. Nate begged for her to tell the truth. He pleaded with her to promise her everything she couldn't. Then he shouted at her and called her a coward and a hypocrite. She took every word he said because she knew it was true. He was in pain and it was because of her. Her father interrupted him mid-rant and ordered her to return to the house. So, she did as told and was now racing towards the window. She had already missed half of the argument.
"I don't care what you think!" Her father screamed towards the mastermind angrily, "I don't want you anywhere near her! She doesn't love you; can't you get that through your thick skull?"
"Then let her tell me," Nate shouted back, "You say you're her father but I don't believe you. For all I know you could have told her you would kill me if she didn't agree to come with you."
"She's my daughter!" Her father growled, "She says she doesn't love you and I believe her. Now get off my property before I fire off into your head."
Her father started heading for the door because he thought the conversation was over. He didn't know Nate didn't allow conversations to just end. The mastermind grabbed the older man's arm and forced him to face him. Her father flexed his left hand in agitation but the mastermind didn't care enough to notice.
"I'm not leaving without her," he explained, "Not unless I know for sure you're telling the truth."
Her father stepped into the mastermind's personal space but Nate didn't back down. In fact, he glared right back into his eyes. The two had a lovely staring contest that felt like hours of torture to the grifter.
"If you truly care for her at all, son," her father growled, "just let her go."
The mastermind met him word for word in an instant. He crossed his arms defiantly against his chest and narrowed his eyes in observation. Then his left eyebrow flicked up and he smiled.
"You're the one who sent the postcard," he realized aloud. Then he uncrossed his arms and shrugged his shoulders. "Please tell Sophie that I will be waiting for her at our favorite café in town. If she doesn't show, then I get the hint and I'll never see her again."
Nate turned around and left without another look back.
A tiny tear slipped down her cheek as she watched the mastermind leave. She knew she shouldn't be upset. The con was a success and the goal was to get him as far away from her father as possible. She just couldn't help the gaping hole that suddenly appeared in her heart. But she had to keep the tears at bay for now. Her father was on his way inside.
He barged through the door moments later.
"Pack your bags," he ordered, "We're leaving."
Sophie stared at him in confusion. She jumped to her feet and stared.
"Why?" She asked, picking up a few bags to help him pack away a few objects at a time, "You heard him. As long as I don't show up he'll accept that it was all just a con. He's gone."
"He's coming back," her father replied, "We have to leave now."
"Are you sure?" She asked softly. She knew she shouldn't but she had to know. Why was he so certain the mastermind wasn't going to do what he said? He didn't know Nate, she did. He said he was going to wait for her and he was going to wait.
Thankfully her father didn't get angry at her questions. Instead he looked a little worried. That was odd, her father didn't feel worried.
"I saw it in the way he looked at you," he explained, "He's not going to just let you go. He's too selfish."
"No, he knows I'm lying" Sophie wanted to correct sharply. Instead she just nodded her head and rushed to gather up her clothes. He grabbed her arm roughly, pulling him towards her while shaking his head in warning.
"We'll get you a whole new wardrobe," he replied, ignoring the increasing pressure he was applying to her arm, "Just grab enough to be believable that we were here on vacation."
The grifter nodded her head in understanding and winced when the pressure was gone. She ignored the fact that there was going to be a bruise soon. It was nothing new. She dealt with it for half of her life. She could deal with it again.
%
Paris was the city of love and lights and for Sophie Devereaux that was true. She constantly enjoyed taking a stroll around the Seine at night. The Eiffel tower, and Paris in general, looked so much better with the stars shining brightly in the background. Even the air felt wondrous in the middle of the night. That was the very specific reason why most of Sophie's crimes in Paris happened at night. It was a magical time and perfect for that little electric bolt of lightning in the pit of her stomach during a con.
Until she met Nathan Ford. He changed Paris.
He had already gotten to the point of being very successful at ruining most of her cons by the time they got to Paris. She had lost more merchandise because of Nathan Ford than any man alive. It was quite infuriating. The last time they had met had ended with her narrowly escaping a shoot-out in Tokyo. (Later, she would learn that Nate had done his best to get them off of her trail but at the time she thought he was trying to kill her.) She started carrying a gun with her as a precaution ever since. She hadn't targeted I.Y.S. in three solid months when she found a perfect target in Paris.
He was rich, naïve and young; her three basic essentials. She stumbled upon him during a midnight gala. She hooked him by only showing herself at night in places he just so "happened" to share in common with her. A few pleasantries, a business date and a slightly less than professional date later and she was finally able to steal all of the paintings she so desired. Her mark was out of town and had absolutely no idea she made a copy of each and every one of his keys. His employees were more loyal to her than him anyway, she was nicer after all. All she had to do was take the paintings the very night he left and she could play the blissfully ignorant "friend" there to comfort him in his time of need. Of course, at the time she had no idea the mark left because his insurance agency was updating his security.
She could have killed him when he shot her.
"You wanker!" She howled his way, it was the best she could come up with in such short notice. Sure she'd been shot before but never immediately after she shot the man aiming the gun.
"You shot me first," he replied as if he was speaking on autopilot. It was as though he actually felt guilty for shooting her. Why would he care? He was only doing his bloody job. (He would secretly still regret shooting her until they finally decided to duke it out directly in front of their teammates one day. Eliot, Parker and Hardison looked highly torn between amusement and horror when they realized they both shot each other. They all finally burst into laughter when Sophie shouted that she had forgiven him the moment it happened. They ran out of the mastermind's apartment real quickly when Nate initiated a very heated and passionate kiss in gratitude.)
"Well," she replied back bitterly still confused by his tone and the pain in her back wasn't helping, "You told me to freeze. I had to do something!"
"Freeze means stop moving, Devereaux," he howled. He was still stumbling back a bit and that was dangerous. He needed to take a moment and breathe. He needed something shocking to pull out of his shock.
"Don't call me Devereaux!" She hissed nearly falling to the floor for a reason she couldn't quite comprehend. Maybe he hit her somewhere more vital than she thought. "My name is Sophie. Call me Sophie or I won't help you with your shoulder."
"You're a thief," he replied in complete confusion, "Why would you help me?"
"You'll owe me," she waved off.
She was already making a bee-line for his shoulder. Her purse was sitting on the chair beside him with all of the necessary supplies anyway. Her father had taught her long ago to always be prepared for the worst. She even had a package of emergency clothes, make-up and shoes that would come in handy for the rest of the night.
"Owe you one?" He questioned, complying despite his words, "You're the one who shot me."
"And you shot me back," she agreed, checking his shoulder very carefully, "That makes us even. I patch you up and keep you from dying and you will owe me the favor of letting me go. Now hold still. I can't tell if the bullet went all the way through when you keep fidgeting."
He stopped moving immediately. She was thoroughly impressed with how well he was taking the pain too. Even when they removed his shirt and jacket for better observation, he didn't give so much as a hiss of complaint. He had a surprisingly high pain tolerance. There was a story there, Sophie was sure of that. (She later found out the story and regretted ever asking. Nate had to get her drunk just to keep her from making a call to a friend who knew how to sink boats.)
Instead she just grumbled about his horrible timing.
"So why did you choose this weekend of all weekends to track me down?" She asked.
"I didn't," he replied quite honestly, "I.Y.S. sent me to make certain the security for his art collection was done correctly. It was part of his contract to join our company."
"Of course," she rolled her eyes, "at least that explains how you were able to figure out my plan so quickly. You entered here, expecting to find the security men doing their work and instead discover that only the butler is on duty."
"I smelled your perfume in the air and heard noise upstairs," he said, "You weren't that hard to track after that. Then I get shot for doing my job."
She smacked him lightly on the head.
"You shot me too," she said, "Let us not forget that, Nathan!"
"Nate," he corrected immediately, "Not Nathan."
She raised an eyebrow at that but made no further statement. She had him patched up in no time and he quickly forced her to undergo the same treatment. Only, she still had the bullet lying around and he decided to yank that out instead of just letting it be for her doctor. She wasn't the only one surprised that she didn't yelp in pain.
"I see you've got a high pain tolerance as well," he mused.
"Fair is fair," she shook a finger sternly towards him. She felt it wasn't nearly as effective when she wasn't facing him, "You have to share a story if I do."
"Agreed," he said but he didn't say anything else. He just finished patching her up and let her go without a fuss.
She left the paintings behind as part of their silent agreement.
%
They were in the airport, waiting for their plane to hurry up and get them out. Her father had grumbled and despaired for an hour as they went through security when Sophie mentioned she was hungry. He ground his teeth together in agitation but immediately gave into her wish.
"Stay here," he ordered fiercely. His eyes were darting around the airport in search of danger.
He dragged her as close to the men's bathroom as he could get. She felt like a child the way he refused to let her out of his sight for even a moment. It didn't really matter. She was just going to make a pit stop at one of the stores and purchase a new pair of shoes. Then she remembered Hardison would be looking for that kind of purchase and that was the absolute worst thing she could do. She had to keep her father as far away from her family as possible. Besides, in Europe she had somebody who could give her exactly what she needed.
"I'll be right back," he father explained before disappearing into the men's room.
The grifter considered running away and taking her chances with her team. That thought was quickly vetoed when she remembered that her father had connections even Eliot didn't want to mess with. No, she was going to have to take care of this mess herself.
"Hello, Sophie," a husky voice whispered into her ear.
The grifter spun around with alarm on her features. Nathan Ford was standing in the airport bathroom with a smile on his face. He reached out a hand to caress her face and she couldn't help but lean into the touch. Then she silently cursed her body for forgetting the con. She backed away from him urgently but he didn't look hurt. No, he looked satisfied with whatever thoughts were going through his mind. She accidentally confirmed something she wasn't trying to.
"Nate," she croaked. She flinched at how raw and frightened her voice sounded. She wasn't supposed to sound like that. She was supposed to sound happy but her body was in protest of the idea apparently.
The mastermind smiled kindly towards her and gently grabbed her elbow. She hissed at the contact and mentally cursed herself again for being the worst grifter in history. The concern in his eyes was too much. He frowned at the noise issuing from her lips and immediately lifted the arm for better inspection. Anger and disgust filled his every feature before he even had a chance to switch back to his usual blank stare.
"Who did this to you?" He growled, his voice as soft as the roar of a lion.
"I hit my elbow on the table," she lied immediately.
This time he flinched. His blue eyes turned towards hers and sadness suddenly took over. The grifter felt the instinctual pull to comfort him. She even raised her hand and brushed away some of his hair. He wanted answers she would never be able to give.
"Why are you letting him get away with this?" He asked, kissing her hand and taking her comfort despite the both of them.
Sophie opened her mouth to answer. She had the lie right there on the tip of her tongue. But she couldn't use it, not on him. She just lowered her arm from his grasp and stepped back. The mastermind's eyes ached at the intentional play for space. He reached towards her but she shook her head and stepped back.
"He really is my father, Nate," she felt the need to explain.
"Doesn't that make everything worse?" He demanded harshly stepping towards her again with hope in his eyes.
"He needs me," she tried again stepping back just to see if the space would stick.
It didn't. He was right there in her personal space within seconds. She didn't even have the heart to push him away this time. Their magnetic pull had somehow gotten stronger over the years. It really was impossible to keep them apart. Of course, it took them years to come together ironically enough.
"Get away from her!"
Sophie jumped away from the mastermind instantly at her father's command. All she could picture was the bloodbath that would soon begin, but neither man made a move. In fact, they were doing nothing more than staring at each other angrily.
"I gave you my demands," Nate growled towards the man.
"And your answer is obviously no," her father responded in kind.
"Why don't you let her tell me that?" The mastermind hollered.
He refused to turn away from her father and Sophie felt the familiar air of eyes on her. She looked towards the ceiling and noticed a security camera pointed directly at her. It shook right to left in a wave and the grifter knew Hardison and Parker were working together to tell her they were there.
"We're going to miss our flight, Daddy," Sophie purred right on cue.
"Is that good enough for you?" Her father demanded angrily.
The mastermind didn't even acknowledge him this time. Instead he turned towards the grifter and stared at her. His blue eyes were searching every contour of her face. He was searching for the lie. He was trying to see if she was telling the truth or if it was just another ruse to get him away. She didn't say anything because he knew her voices, he would know if she was lying. So she stared stubbornly back and turned towards her father impatiently. She noticed a slight tilt to the mastermind's lips in her peripheral.
"Let's go," she said then she turned towards the mastermind with a sad expression, "Nate, I need time to think. Please give me the space I ask for."
The mastermind said nothing. He knew she would detect a lie too. He just nodded his head and left. The grifter sighed in relief. Her father looked towards her with concern.
"I'm very good at what I do," she shrugged, "You taught me that."
Then she grabbed her bag and led the way to their gate. She ignored the lurking hitter with all of her might. Her father wasn't stupid. He would get them another flight as soon as they landed with new aliases and a new place to go. Her team wouldn't be able to follow after a while. Their window was too small now.
"It's alright, Monkey," her father said pulling her into his side in a way he had never done before, "Once we're out they won't be able to follow. I have plans, big plans."
Sophie tried her hardest not to grimace at the irony.
%
Nate had been chasing her for years. He even asked her to help on a few jobs to find the person responsible for the crime. But never had he just barged in on her in the middle of a con and stole her away under the guise of an ex-boyfriend. That was highly new.
"Nate, what are you doing?" She hissed. Her accent had started out Nigerian and slowly faltered back to her British one when he came into the picture. She was dead certain he knew the difference too.
"No more cons," he yelled at her, quite unnecessarily considering he interrupted her con, "I don't want you doing anything dangerous, not anymore! You're done, you understand?"
"And who are you to tell me what I can and cannot do?" She hissed back right on cue. She couldn't help but be angry because now she had a mess to clean up and it was all because he felt the need to tell her to stop being a grifter? No, that was not how they worked.
"I'm a friend," he replied sounding far too broken than he had only moments ago.
"Nate," she said suddenly catching the tone and the lack of light in his eyes, "What happened?"
Concern enveloped her as she finally took in all of his appearance. His clothes were rumpled. His hair was a mess. His hands kept shaking if he kept them still for a little too long. He hadn't shaved in a day or two, long enough to find her probably. Something bad happened.
"Sam!" She guessed immediately with true fear all over her features. She knew how much he loved that little boy, his little boy. She knew, even then, that the boy's death would kill him. (This fact she didn't fully realize until they met again in Chicago and started working together. Sometimes Sophie should listen to her own thoughts where Nathan was concerned.)
"No, this isn't about Sam!" He screamed at her, but she could tell by the defeated look in his eyes that he wasn't telling the truth, "This is about you! You can't keep living this type of life, Sophie! One of these days you're not going to get lucky! I'm not always going to be able to protect you when your con goes wrong. One day somebody is going to sneak up on you and kill you!"
Sophie stared at him as he ranted about the dangers of her chosen profession. She knew he was trying to distract himself and she also knew it was the worst thing he could do. So she waited for the perfect opening and slammed him into facing the mess he was in.
"What happened to Sam?" She demanded immediately. She ignored the fact that her voice sounded pained to her own ears. "Was he hit by a car? Was it some old foe coming back for revenge? Is he still alive? What can I do to help?"
The last one got his attention. In fact, it got both of their attentions because neither one expected that question to ever happen. Nate stared at her in shock while she tried to push the sudden emotions aside. She couldn't afford to disappear on him now. He needed her. She didn't know why but he needed her and she was going to be there. When had that happened? (This question would be still bugging her when he showed up in Chicago. Sadly, it wouldn't be answered until that stupid, ridiculous, good-bye kiss on the Maltese Falcon. Yes, she still hated him for that.)
"There's nothing you can do," he replied. All of his fervent yelling was gone now. He just collapsed onto the closest chair and stared at her with absolute despair. "Sam has cancer."
"Well, there's treatment for that," she argued immediately, smiling slightly in relief that it was something curable. She knew some people. She could pull some strings and get him exactly what he needs. Everything would be okay.
"Stage four, Soph," he cried. He suddenly couldn't look her in the eyes and she felt as though he wasn't telling her everything. Maybe he blamed her for not coming to him sooner. Of course, she should have been giving him more attention so she guessed he was right.
"I know some very powerful people, Nate," she argued lightly, gently placing her hand on his knee and squeezing tightly, "Even stage four can be cured with the right equipment and I have the right equipment."
"I should have asked for your help when it could have done something," he mumbled. He thought it was under his breath but it wasn't. Sophie heard it ringing through her head, for many years later as well as during that moment. (Afterwards, when she finally got the courage to ask, he explained that he didn't think of it until it was too late. She ignored the fact that he was lying to her face and he made up for it whenever he could. She silently agreed that she probably would have never helped him if he had asked. They both needed to believe she was capable of that selfishness back then.)
"You're asking now," she said with another plastic smile on her face. She silently wondered when she could tell her smiles were faked around him. He seemed to be wondering the same thing.
"No," he sighed holding her hand as if in apology, "It's already too late, Sophie."
She understood in an instant why he was there. He was about to lose his son and he couldn't face it. He came to her because she would force him to go back. She would make him live through it because she knew him. He would never forgive himself for missing even that moment in his son's life.
"You need to go home and be there for your son, Nate," she told him straight out because he was probably expecting something else and she wouldn't do that to him. Then she took notice of her right hand gently rubbing against his temple in comfort.
"The cure was right there, Sophie," he gasped softly, "It was right there in my hands and I didn't act when I should have. Sam's dying because of me."
"No, Nate," she shook her head, "You did everything you could."
"How would you know?" He accused, "I didn't even come to you."
"Because I know you," she smiled kindly towards him, "You're an honest man. You did everything you could to save your son from dying legally. I'll take care of the rest my way."
"You don't even know…" he began. Then he bit his tongue and shook his head roughly. He was hiding something, something that was going to kill him if he didn't let it go.
"Tell me, Nate," she ordered, forcing him to face her, "I'll take care of it."
"Ian…" he said hesitantly, his moral code was still standing in his way. (It was probably the last honest thing he ever did.) "Blackpoole, my boss… he, uh… He denied Sam's treatment."
"What do you mean he denied Sam's treatment?" She questioned, her voice shrill and full of angry, "How could he deny Sam's treatment?"
"It's company policy to deny all new insurance claims until they have been properly investigated," he replied sounding as if those very words had been haunting him for a very long time.
"Stalled you mean," Sophie hissed in complete and utter disbelief. How could anybody be so cruel? "You've worked for that company for twenty years! You've saved them millions, billions maybe! How can he deny your son? You've given them your life!"
"Sophie!" Nate shouted in surprise, "I know."
"Nate, why are you here?" She demanded softly. It was the one thing that had been bugging her ever since he appeared. What could he possibly need from her that she didn't already give him?
"I don't know," he replied, "I guess I just wanted revenge."
"That's not why you're here," she shook her head.
He glared at her then. It was such a Nate thing to do that she almost sighed in relief. Then she remembered who she was dealing with. Nathan Ford only ever showed one emotion to hide another far more important one. So she glared back and made certain the expression he read told him he wouldn't be getting away without saying the truth. He got the hint and his expression turned defeated just as suddenly.
"If Sam dies," Sophie winced at the hope in his voice as he spoke, "I won't be chasing you anymore."
"Are you saying good-bye, Nathan?" She asked with a charming smile. She tried to make her voice light with laughter so he wouldn't have to deal with the pity anymore. She was certain she only missed the mark by a small margin.
He gave her a simple look and she knew everything he was saying. Yes, this was good-bye but it was so much more than that. It was a good-bye with an "I will always miss you" vibe. After this moment they would never see each other again. Only fate could prove them wrong. (And boy did it prove them both wrong when he found her in Chicago. That was probably when she actually started believing in fate and the rest of the things he whispered in her ear when they worked together before the team and Sam and everything. She didn't actually realize he was right until they found each other in Boston. Then she was a very firm believer that fate was either an evil prankster or a divine power that deserved worship. She still wasn't sure.)
"My flight leaves in three hours," he replied, "Want to get a cup of coffee?"
