AU. Or sort of Leverage/Doctor Who fusion. Written for Leverageland challenge Promt! [Time].
It has been a while since I last wrote something Nate/Sophie related, so I hope there still are someone out there enjoy this.
The first time he saw her, she was swapping Degas's Fin d'Arabesque. She ran, he chased. He didn't catch her, but she left the Degas. He caught a glimpse of her, long curly hair, deep brown eyes, a classic brunette beauty. But not until later when he carefully checked the painting to see if it was genuine, did he notice there was something familiar about the ballerina.
x
The next time, it was a Picasso. She pouted when he took it from her, "do you absolutely have to? I finally managed to find a perfect spot for it in my gallery."
"Don't even think about it." He cuffed her, wrapping up the painting carefully. "Besides, why were you after it? It's not even his finest work."
"I like it." She said it like it was the most nature thing. "It actually is one of my favorite portraits. He wasn't really drawing the model, but he captured the spirit."
Even if he had seen the painting a few times in the past, he studied it again before it was returned to the owner. He wasn't really surprised, when through those simple and wild strokes of Picasso, he recognized her.
x
It soon became a puzzle. He read through her files, looked up all the stolen art that were suspected to be her work, and realized quite a few paintings and sculptures she stole featured a woman, as the main character or in the background, who, in spite of dressing up in various styles, he knew in the first sight is her. He even saw her in some other portraits, sculptures and photographs, always breath-taking, never aging, as timeless as the artworks she was in. He wondered if he was being paranoid (which actually wasn't that impossible, considering how often she invaded his mind and dreams), but he knew when it came to her, his instinct had never been wrong.
He decided he would ask her the next time. But the next time they met, they were in Paris. She shot him (and he shot her back), and left behind an entire collection of Monet before he had a chance to ask her anything. But of course, when he went through the collection, he saw her again. Berthe Morisot with a Bouquet of Violets, he wondered why he never noticed before.
x
When he heard she was in Florence, he knew exactly where she would be. He caught up with her in Galleria Palatina. Following her gaze, he found he was looking at a Titian.
"It's you." He stepped up and stood beside her.
"Well," she greeted him with one of her mischievous smiles, "you figured out."
"But this woman he painted was supposed to be a royal."
"So?" She shrugged.
Then he remembered she was also a Duchess, a Princess, and most importantly, a grifter. He sighed, "what about Berthe Morisot, she was a real person."
"She was." The corners of her mouth lifted up slightly, her eyes shining like every time she talked about her successful cons. "But not the woman on that portrait. Not the Berthe Morisot Monet knew."
"But..." He remembered the more important question. "These paintings are hundred years old, how could you...?"
"Don't look so surprised, Nate," she leaned in, whispering softly beside his ear, "that sexy brain of yours must has some guesses already."
He had, as a matter of fact. A few. "You're an immortal." He could almost picture her as a vampire, beautiful and mysterious, except he had seen her in broad daylight.
"Not immortal, no, not exactly. Just not aging at the same speed as your human does."
"You're...An alien?"
She smiled at his reaction. "Yes."
"So you have lived hundred years, and while doing what?Waiting until the great artists were born and stealing?"
"Nate," she eyed him disapprovingly, "you made my life sound so painfully boring! My life is never boring. I don't sit and wait, I go to them. Travel through time, to be more precisely. Museums shouldn't be the only way we get to know the history."
She was full of surprises, he figured that out long ago. But still, he was once again enchanted (even with her being an alien and talking about geek stuff like time travel). "So you have a time machine? Then there must be times you can steal these paintings much easier. Why choose here, and now?"
I chose you, she thought. But she only laughed, "What's the fun then if there is no challenge?"
"So time travel, and stealing, uh? Sound like a fun life."
She smiled softly. "You know, you could come with me. I always thought you could be good on my side."
He chuckled. "No, Sophie."
"Just imagine, we could meet every artists in history, find every piece of lost art, we would become the best art thieves, the modern Bonnie and Clyde-"
"I'm not a thief, Sophie."
"-or, if you insist, we can simply enjoy the architecture and art in the New New New New Earth, or have a drink in Shenshen-did I mention Tardis is also a spaceship-or sunbathe on the beach of Felspoon, watching the mountains swaying with wind."
"Sophie."
She stopped talking and their eyes met. Then there she was, promising him entire history and universe, the whole time and space. Promising him her, her smile so dazzling and inviting, her lips so full and red, a timeless beauty.
But his ring was cold and solid around his finger, reminding him what he already had. He lowered his gaze, "I can't. I have a wife, and a son."
"I know." She smiled understandingly, but he wondered if it was sadness he saw in her eyes. "But it never hurts to try."
She brushed over him, her lips on his cheeks for a briefest moment, and then disappeared in a blink, maybe already thousand miles or thousand years away from him. That was when he realized he was tempted, so very tempted.