[Fic] The Old Sins Job (PG-13) [1/2]

[mizzy]

The Old Sins Job
(by mizzy2k , for astridv for help_japan )

Category: Casefic.
Summary: Sophie/Nate. An old colleague of Nate's is in need of assistance, but will the past interfere?
Rating: PG-13.
Wordcount: 16,600



There was a saying Sophie's father told her once. It stuck in her head because in her childhood he never said very much to her and in her adulthood even less.

It was on her seventh birthday. Mama had been tired all day and should have been resting under the dappled shade of the trees and not out in the too bright sun, but Father hadn't let her.

Sophie had demanded to know why. Father had looked at her in that sideways manner he did when he was tugging in emotions too tight, not wanting them to spill on his face, and he said she had all the shade she needed, because "Old sins cast long shadows."

Sophie hadn't known what that had meant until later, and then she wished she hadn't. She kept her family's secrets closer than she had kept any object in her life, but that wasn't a surprise to anyone who knew her—thieves only become great thieves if they don't have anything they needed to hold onto, and Sophie was a great thief.

She didn't know exactly why this phrase had come into her head so suddenly and so adamantly, but there it was, spinning in the back of her mind like an itch. A lot of things since San Lorenzo had been like that. Fragments of memories and feelings that she was too tied up in. "You think too much" had been the insult she had flung at Nate two years ago during the First David con, but she had only been able to use it so passionately because really, it applied better to her. Her thoughts trapped her, bound her to certain decisions, and one of those decisions was to keep calm and carry on, like everything was normal. Like she didn't want something deep in her skin, something she couldn't think of a way to keep.

That decision led her to where she was now, idly tracing the edge of a smooth glass tumbler with the pad of her finger, listening to Eliot while they waited for the client to come in. Eliot wasn't exactly the best conversationalist at times, and this was one of those times, but his silence was comforting. It was predictable and strong and something Sophie could mentally hold onto, so she didn't obsess over the one thing she wanted to obsess over.

It was her fault. It really was her fault. She had her chance with Nate, a hundred different times, and if she wasn't so proud maybe each of those hundred times could have become something amazing, instead of fractured, broken moments which left them both aching and hurting, and now- Sophie felt sick in the pit of her stomach, nauseous and disjointed. It was his right to move on and find someone else, god knows Sophie had flung that idea at him with gusto in their sole heated and low pitched argument about that night in San Lorenzo, and she had no right to be feeling the way she felt now. None at all.

(Except seeing him there on the step of her apartment made the world spin away and heat boil her spine. The mystery woman, with her spill of ink black hair over Nate's suited shoulder as she hugged him goodbye; perfect, porclain hands locked behind him, ruffling through the soft curls at the base of Nate's neck.)

Eliot coughed. From the rough edge of it, she guessed it wasn't his first cough to get her attention. She glanced at him, eyebrows raised as if to pointedly say yes?, and he looked at her sympathetically, as if he knew what she was thinking about. She had received too many of those glances from the team over the last 24 hours, because all four of them had been there, worried about Nate's odd behaviour, and naturally stalking him to find out the answer of why he was disappearing all the time was their unified first thought after Hardison's web search had come up zero.

They looked at her like she had the right to care that Nate was emotionally involved with someone who wasn't her. She didn't. She really didn't.

Sophie Devereaux, in denial. How very out of character, a voice somewhere inside her said. Sophie ignored it, which was the only recourse when your inner conscience was that sarcastic. Her inner conscience was also in Nate's voice, so getting it to shut up and fast was the best plan for all concerned.

"I think that's her," Eliot said, still in that soft voice as if she was made of eggshells, and Sophie straightened, taking a sip of her lemonade to quench the prickling dryness of her throat. "Ten o'clock."

Sophie glanced over the checks of Eliot's shirt to see a woman at the doorway. Sophie wanted, suddenly, for the woman to be Nate's mystery woman, to have answers, and it was an absurd and ridiculous daydream that was too ludicrous to come true. It didn't. The woman had red hair, pulled back in a frazzled bun, and she might have been pretty if she didn't look so exhausted. Sophie clocked the comfortable shoes, the bags around the eyes, and the displacement of weight around the waist and hips on the woman's slim body—she must have given birth in the last few weeks.

Hardison had found their newest client on some forum on the Internet where new mother's congregated to whine and moan, and set the meeting up, but Nate had an "appointment" so asked Eliot and Sophie to take the initial meeting. Sophie had swallowed down the immediate question on where he was going, and nodded.

When Nate left earlier, Hardison helpfully pointed out that the woman had worked for a department of IYS in New York until eight months ago, and before that had worked in Nate's branch there in Boston, so maybe it was better he wasn't there for the initial meeting. His emotions were rare, but when they came out they were brutal and left everyone breathless, and IYS was still one of the best triggers for that. It was best not to bother him if this contact didn't pan out.

Eliot turned and made a hand signal which the red-haired woman picked up. She headed over to their table briskly, eyes wide with nervousness, her pale hand tugging at her bun like she could magically neaten it up that way. Her name was Astrid Alexander. Sophie had read her profile eagerly when she saw the magic initials IYS, as if she could give her more information on how to solve the impossible puzzle they called Nathan Ford, but apart from a brief note in her précis to say she worked for his branch for fourteen years, there was little else. No clue as to whether she knew Nate in passing, or at all.

"Hello," Astrid said, her right foot turning underneath itself as she swayed awkwardly at the end of their booth. Eliot turned on his charm and slid along, letting her sit next to him, giving her plenty of space and an escape. She was blushing and sitting in her seat in moments.

Sophie smiled at her. Maybe it was a little too plastic as Astrid wasn't calming down, and that set Sophie on edge. She shook it away. Even though her success so far had depended on the first impressions people made of her, she wasn't going to make that mistake on someone else.

"My name's Sophie, this is Eliot," Sophie said, launching into the spiel, because it was better than thinking. "And you're Astrid."

"I am," Astrid said. "And you said you could maybe help me?"

"Why don't you tell us a little bit about your problem," Sophie said, "and we'll see what we can do for you."

Astrid outlined her problem, in low and stuttering tones, forming each word as if it might come and bite her in the ass afterwards. This was a woman damaged by what had happened to her. Sophie didn't need to listen to her words so much—that was why they rarely did these briefings on their own. She was the body language expert, the nuance of tone was her realm, and Astrid was broken up by what had happened. She obviously used to be confident, and skilled.

She had worked for IYS for the last twenty years. Six years ago she had transferred to the New York facility. Four years ago she was given a client—Whitcom—which was a company which had been for decades the only provider outside of Sillicon Valley of a type of computer chip Sophie had never heard of. The New York branch was pioneering an insurance and security scheme, and Astrid was designated Whitcom amongst the clients. The owner of the company, Stan Whitman, had an original Cezanne worth $15million. Astrid regularly checked up on it and vetted its security system personally.

Except six months ago, Whitcom had a competitor rise up—Brattcom—who made the same kind of computer chips. Whitcom struggled but was coming out on top, and then the painting was stolen. Astrid worked to retrieve it, brought it back, and had it in her house overnight because she suffered a bad bout of morning sickness that evening.

That night, the painting was stolen from her house. Astrid informed IYS immediately, only to discover $5million had been put into her own bank account, as if she had stolen the painting herself.

The payment was frozen, but there was no way to prove Astrid had taken it as parts of her story checked out (her safe was smashed to pieces and her neighbours saw a suspicious van.) But it turned out that the $5million in Astrid's account had apparently come out of Whitcom's main account, so it looked like an inside job, like Whitman had paid Astrid to 'steal' the painting so they could share the insurance pay out.

Astrid lost her job—IYS fired her immediately even though she was weeks from giving birth. And even though the federal case was dropped due to lack of sufficient evidence, Whitman's reputation was mud and his company went bust within the month. She had done all she could up to this point to try and find out who stole the painting, both originally and then from her, but she was stuck. She needed proof that it was Brady Bratt from Brattcom that had engineered the whole thing to bring his competitor down, but all she had was a bad feeling and a broken safe. She didn't know who to turn to, and then she had an e-mail from Mr. Hardison, so here she was.

"I definitely think it's something we can look into," Sophie said, her hands on Astrid's, the small woman in tears over her lost job and IYS's lack of trust in her, even after the number of years she had worked there. "I just have to run it past our..." She searched for the word, and it escaped her. Mastermind wasn't entirely reassuring, after all; at least, not to civilians. Then all words escaped her as Nate pushed through the door, making a beeline straight for the bar, and signalling up a drink. Her heart sank a little, and then she remembered the client, and she turned her gaze back, a little flustered—her default reaction around Nate after their post-San Lorenzo blaze ups.

"Our number one," Eliot interjected, flashing a disarming smile at her. Astrid smiled back at him, her eyes suspiciously watery, but she blinked the tears away.

"I would get to meet your... number one, right?" Astrid said. "If you took on my case. I want to thank you all in person." She paused, her thin lips pursing together. "I want to see this guy taken down."

"I'll see what we can do," Sophie said vaguely, looking over at Nate. He looked up after a moment, feeling her eyes on him, and she made a small gesture under the table where Astrid couldn't see. New client. Come check her out.

Nate's face was impassive as he stood up from the stool, and Sophie tried not to cheer out loud when his hand moved away from his drink on the bar in front of him. He stepped forward as if to acquiesce to her gesture for help, and then he caught sight of the client, and he changed.

It was nothing perceptible to most people. If Sophie didn't know him so well she wouldn't have even noticed. But she knew him, had seen him in all sorts of situations, and she had only seen those dark clouds cross his face three times before. Twice had been with Maggie, when he had to tell her two secrets he didn't want to—about his own new criminal career, and of Blackpoole's hand behind Sam's death. Third had been when telling James Sterling that yes, they had a deal.

Her eyes locked with Nate across the room, as always with that challenging note that hurt, and then his eyes softened, and he looked almost- Sophie struggled for the word. Anguished? Was that it? He shook his head, and stalked quickly away, heading for the back room. Sophie turned back to Astrid, who looked a bit puzzled, and Eliot, who looked stern, like he was going to smack Nate in the face for not being polite to a female client and coming over to say hello.

Sophie looked at Astrid seriously. "I'll see what we can do," she repeated, patted her on the hand, and got up to follow Nate out of the bar, leaving Eliot to deal with her abrupt departure.

She didn't know exactly what she was going to say to Nate, but she knew she needed to go to him. All right, maybe part of that urge was her own curiosity. Still, it was odd behaviour from him, and coupled with his disappearances every now and again, Sophie felt she and the team had every right to learn some—at least—of what he was hiding.

He was sitting at the dining table when she entered the apartment. He had his head in his hands, resting his elbows on the glass table, casting a dark shadow over the normally light surface. As soon as her feet hid the wooden floor he let out a cracked exhale, like he knew who it was coming through the door.

Of course he did. He was Nate Ford. If he wasn't two steps ahead of everything and everyone, something was wrong with him. Something worse than usual, anyway.

"You going to explain why you gave our potential new client the wide berth?" Sophie didn't bother with niceties like hello and how are you. She liked to pretend it was because they were all past the point of necessary phatics, but mainly they didn't bother with empty words because they were all kind of to the point people. Except when they were trying to avoid particular points; then all of them could beat around the bush like masters.

His shoulders tensed, the material of his woollen coat stretching across his back slightly, and then sagging as he relaxed. He looked up at her, his hair dishevelled, like he had spent the two minutes head start away from Sophie just rumpling his hair in disbelief. Knowing Nate, it was a likely deduction. The rims of his eyes looked a little red, but Sophie would never raise the subject of tears. One day he would repay the favor.

"Astrid's been fired," Sophie said, "due to one company framing another and letting her take the blame."

Nate's eyes were steady, but one of his hands was not as he fished into his pocket and pulled out a couple of headache tablets, dry swallowing them before she could lecture him on combining alcohol and medication. Sophie let herself be in denial about that, even though he was probably stinking drunk already to be that shaky. He looked at her blankly for a moment, before literally shaking his head for a moment, and his eyes focussed. "I worked with Astrid for fourteen years," Nate said, and took a deep, shuddering breath in, and Sophie definitely recognised the sudden tight expression, (pain, pure pain) and she opened her mouth to tell him it wasn't needed, it was okay.

But in turn, he obviously recognised what she was about to do, and he spoke quickly and firmly, like he always did when trying to derail something she was about to say.

"Astrid left two years before Sam died," Nate said, the words almost joining together in his rush to say them. "She-" He took another of those shuddery inhalations, and Sophie caught a rumble in it, like Nate was in pain from it. "I-" He looked down at his hands, then at his trembling left hand, like it was a traitor.

"You don't have to tell me a thing," Sophie said. "I can tell her the case isn't in our remit. If this is too difficult for you, we're not doing it." Doing what is what the logical part of her brain is demanding, because nothing has been fully decided, but it's mostly denial that forces that response. She doesn't want to think she's soft enough to fall for a sob story without fully checking it out, and Astrid's story had hit a painful note in her chest. Pregnant and terrified, and fired, and probably with the threat of imprisonment binding that all together.

Sophie pushed that empathy to one side. Nate needed her attention. He was her focus now, even though his focus was on his hands at the moment.

"She worked with Sterling and I," Nate said, struggling through the words. "We were her mentors. I taught her everything she knows. She's the most honest person on the planet, Sophie." His voice cracked on the last sentence.

"You're ashamed." Sophie spoke the words as soon as she realised them, and the hurt of them was instantaneous, because if Nate was ashamed of himself, he was ashamed of all of them.

"Only of myself," Nate said, in that deeply disturbing way he had of knowing exactly what she was thinking. He looked up from his hands to look at her, and his expression was deadly serious. "I mean that. There isn't a second on Earth I'm ashamed of you." His face froze a little, like he had said something wrong. "Any of you," he amended, and his face settled, as if that fixed whatever he thought he had broken. "Besides," he said, moving on swiftly, "I just-"

"Relive Sam's death every time you have to say it," Sophie said, sounding the words out slowly as she thought it through. Nate's head sagged just a bit, and she knew she was right. "It's okay. We can let Astrid know we can't-"

"No." Nate's voice was rough and determined. "No, she needs help. She wouldn't be here unless she really needed help. I'm a grown man, I can suck it up and-"

"No," Sophie said, surprising herself with the stubbornness of her own tone, "no, we can help her and keep you on the sideline. She won't have to know you're helping. Not if you can't handle it. We're a team. And sometimes one of us has to take a back seat role; that doesn't make us not a team anymore."

He looked torn, like he expected of himself that he should talk her out of it, but the idea of having to tell Astrid about Sam was enough to make him reluctant, to hold him back. After a long, long pause, he nodded, and slowly, slowly exhaled. That was all the emotion he allowed himself to show. He pushed his chair back and relaxed his posture. "So what's the situation?"

Sophie grinned, the fire of a new con catching in her belly immediately, and she began to outline what had happened to Astrid Alexander.

Hardison and Eliot joined them after a short while, Parker in tow, and Nate already had half a con planned up from what he found online while Sophie briefed him. Hardison took over the search, and Nate directed him to a few salient pieces of information, and Hardison queued it up to show on the big screen.

Nate did his thing, delivering the plan coolly and confidently, except for the odd worrying tremble of a hand which he hid by clenching a mug of super strong coffee Sophie made for him. The basic con idea he came up with in a long-for-him three minutes was simple and dramatically pleasing as a conclusion.

It couldn't be that easy. It wasn't.

The first snag was Bratt's building. It locked down at midnight and was impenetrable. They needed to adjust their plan just in case Bratt didn't work with their timings, but Parker said she had a vague idea for it.

Hardison then hit something bigger in his search. Something which, for some reason, made Parker start clapping her hands delightedly and jump up and down on the couch, and Eliot's face turn the colour of thunder. Hardison looked impressed for a second, and Sophie looked bewildered.

"I thought Higgs-Boson was some sort of physics thing," Sophie said.

"It is, the God particle," Hardison said. "But it's also the nickname of a safe brought out last year, the HB safe. Two Indian kids came up with it. It's based on a ton of laws of physics."

"I've always wanted to be the first to break one of those," Parker said. "Oh please, oh please, oh please let us do this con." She was bouncing on the end of the couch now, sat down and eyes gleaming, hands clasped together.

"The first?" Sophie blinked. They already were looking her direction; she had set precedence with lack of safe knowledge when they stole Parker. "How can a safe be unbreakable?" was her second question, because in their world, the concept was quite ludicrous.

"It hasn't been done," Hardison said. "Doesn't mean it can't be."

"It's got like, four doors, and pressure sensors, and a heuristic algorithm that could beat a Steranko hands down, with tumble locks and DNA and voice recognition and fingerprints and retina scans and rotating passwords and a harmonic lock and gravity pads and movement sensors and heat, and saliva detectors for when you breathe out," Parker breathed, like it was a prayer. "No one's ever broken into one before. I'm going to be the first."

"Can you do it?" Nate said, his voice tight.

Parker outlined her plan.

Even Hardison sounded impressed.

"How did you think of something to break a HB safe in just two minutes since the concept was brought up?" Eliot demanded.

Hardison interrupted with, "Some people do crosswords." Parker grinned.

"Guess that ties in better with the plan," Nate said. He clapped his hands and they all turned to him. "Eliot, I need you to deliver his current PA to their new working address. Use the printouts coming now to suggest strongly to her that her money skimming has been noticed, and Bratt will chase after her if she tries it again at her new job. Hardison, how fast can you make me a sculpture about this high-" Nate gestured above his head "-and I suppose we'd better have removable weights in the bottom for transportation so it's not a pain in Lucille's ass?"

"Gimme a day," Hardison said, pulling up another website on the screen—a proxy site so he could start ordering the materials he needed. "I'll fake you a Edward Onslow Ford in no time."

Nate gave Hardison a look, but was overpowered by the matching grins from the other three. "As long as it's big enough for what we need," he said.

"Gotcha."

"Sophie, you'll be Bratt's new PA. Bratt's got too many departments. I doubt he communicates properly with them all," Nate said, looking across at Sophie.

"The Demcon scam," Sophie said with a grin. Hardison squinted at her dubiously. She turned her pleased grin to him. "It's one I pulled right in front of Nate's nose about six years ago. Some big companies have departments—Demcon in my case—that don't communicate with each other. I had an office in their biggest building and it took them a year before they realized that first, I was rarely there, and second that I probably didn't even have a right to be there. Bratt should assume his personnel department has arranged the interviews autonomously; they'll assume he's arranged it. If we rope in a couple of extra candidates for interview, I can flake them out beforehand."

"Parker, I'm going to need you to pretend to be a PA too," Nate said. Parker's face fell as she realised it meant putting on a fake persona. "It's not for long. We're going to get you outed to Bratt as a thief."

"How you going to do that?" Eliot asked. "Personally?"

Nate shook his head. "No. As I think you've gathered, I used to work with Ms. Alexander. She's hands-on, more than me, she always enjoyed that part of chasing you. Believe me, she'll want to be front and centre and I think she can handle it. She'll be outing Parker as a thief."

"Then what are you going to be doing?" Parker said, accepting Nate's plan without the explanation it really required.

"We're going to run a Big Store con," Sophie interrupted on his behalf, "but really big. There's a lot of behind the scene work necessary which Nate's agreed to take on. Hardison will be the boss of our new fake company, Hardcorp."

"Excellent," Hardison said with a grin, drawing out the middle syllable in glee. "I always knew I'd be a boss of a rising company before the age of 30."

"Well, you guys know what you need to do. Sophie, call Astrid back up to here, brief her on the plan, run her through the steps. She has a flair for the dramatic—use it." Nate got to his feet and swung his coat on, starting to walk away.

"Where are you going?" Eliot said, faking a casual tone, except the others betrayed his forced casualness by turning and watching, waiting for the answer.

Nate shrugged, and turned his head as he headed towards the door. "I'm going to go steal us a multi-million dollar business."

- - - -

After Hardison checked, checked and triple checked her to make sure she was on the straight and narrow and Sterling wasn't using her to yank their chain, they let Astrid Alexander into the apartment and into the plan.

She nodded determinedly through the whole briefing.

"I want to do this," Astrid said. "And I can. I've done it before to you, I think, actually." She had turned to Hardison before saying that. He jerked his head in surprise, and then squinted at her for a long moment.

"Detroit?" he said, eventually.

"Hardison," Sophie said, in a soft hissed warning. "What-"

"Nah, it's cool, man, it was while she was with IYS. I was sixteen, I thought it was cool to steal some props from the MGM vault, Luke Skywalker's lightsaber, the Wrath of Khan's ear slug thing, y'know." Hardison shrugged at his laptop screen. "This redhead came out of nowhere, man, I barely got out of there."

"That was you?"

Sophie and Parker stared at each other awkwardly for a beat before realising Sophie had directed the question to Astrid, and Parker had directed an impressed version of the question to Hardison.

"Yes it was," Hardison said for the both of them. "You didn't get me in Orlando, though, so I'm cool with you."

"Orlando was you? I thought it was you," Astrid said, nodding at Eliot. Eliot snickered.

"Nah, I think I saw you with Sterling once in Scotland," Eliot said. Astrid blinked, stunned. "Good times," Eliot added. Astrid looked blank.

"If you've chased them, you have to have chased me," Parker insisted.

"Vancouver, California and Germany," Astrid said, nodding. "Didn't catch you once. No one ever does. Your rep is insane."

Parker grinned. "The third time it was because I filled their car with cheese whiz."

"I thought it was you," Astrid said, repressing a giggle, but the memory seemed to make her finally relax in their presence. "Nate—sorry, Nathan Ford, a guy I used to work with, good guy—was angry for weeks."

"He does not like cheese whiz," Parker said. Sophie shot her a look, and Parker backpedalled. Badly. "Uh, so I realised after spraying the car full of it and the uh, shouting that came from the vehicle afterwards. I don't know him well enough to know his preferences on cheese whiz otherwise. Why would I?"

Eliot whistled through his teeth, Hardison looked like he wanted to put his head in his laptop and close the lid down hard, and Sophie's smile stretched to show her molars—a definitely tell that she was lying, or about to.

"You were still hanging around?" Astrid was shaking her head in disbelief. "I'm going to ring Ford up after this and tell him. It's been a while, but I'm sure he would laugh at it."

"Sure," Sophie said, in as level a tone as she could manage. "So you haven't seen him or any of your IYS buddies since this all happened?"

"No," Astrid said, a stiff but sad note in her tone. Her eyes fixed on a blank location on the wall. "I was working for a different branch anyway, they wouldn't know. I lost touch with them all just- Well- I had to." Her gaze dropped to her interlinked hands on her knees. "It was for the best, I guess."

"Why did you leave? I mean, it's possible you were set up that far in advance, it happens," Sophie said, "so maybe your move was engineered by an outside party we should know about before kicking this whole thing off?"

Astrid shook her head. "I don't need revenge for the reason I moved. I-" She looked at them all. "You've already been so kind to me, when for most of my life I've been wretched to you all. I don't know how you can even stand to help me, let alone listen to me whine on-"

"Lady," Eliot said, "it's what we do."

"It's better to have too much information going into something than not enough," Hardison agreed.

"Well, I don't think it will affect this job," Astrid said, chewing on her bottom lip for a moment. "My colleague—Ford, actually, funny how I keep thinking of him today—well, his wife thought he cheated on her. He was stubborn, real stubborn, I don't know if you can understand just how stubborn one man can be." She smiled at the memory ruefully.

"You'd be surprised," Sophie said, sotto voce.

If Astrid heard her, she didn't respond to it. "Well, I guess she thought it was me, because she got real frosty, kicked him out a while, I took him in. He never told me if he did cheat or not." She shrugged. "I didn't think he had."

"He doesn't sound the type," Sophie said, as evenly as she could manage considering the flush wanting to creep up the back of her neck. The idea of Nate cheating on Maggie with someone was disarming. Be honest. The idea of Nate cheating on Maggie with anyone but you is what's disarming you. Sophie shook the unpleasantly truthful thought away, and she squinted at Astrid. "What size are you?"

"Excuse me?"

"We're going in tomorrow. You're going to need to look the part." Sophie grinned. "I'm going to guess you were 4, pre-pregnancy? Come on. I've got some clothes in N-" She stopped just in time, but carried on smoothly, even though when she wasn't putting a personality on she wasn't a terribly great liar. "In the back," Sophie amended. "Come on up."

Astrid nodded, and followed behind Sophie. Sophie took the opportunity to pull a face at how close she had been to dropping Nate in it. Eliot just smirked up at her. Astrid paused at the base of the staircase, her eyes alighting on Hardison's painting of Nate as Harland Leverage III. "You know," Astrid said, with a laugh in her tone like she couldn't believe she was saying it, "your painting looks an awful lot like-"

"Come on," Sophie said abruptly, turning on the staircases and gesturing at Hardison over Astrid's head to take it down, "we haven't got all day. Everything's already in place. The clock is ticking."

"Yes, of course." Astrid turned and followed Sophie up the stairs, little noticing the sigh of collected relief that followed her departure.

Sophie headed for the spare supplies she kept in Nate's closet, trying not to show she was a little thrown when she opened the sliding door. Not that it wasn't still laid out how she was expecting—the smell of him rushed out like a wave, and she inhaled it deep, and her lungs burned for a moment with it. She steadied herself and turned to Astrid with a stretched wide smile. She didn't want Astrid up here any longer than she had to be, in case Nate had left anything personal lying around.

"This one," Sophie said, pushing a skirt suit at Astrid. Astrid looked at it doubtfully, then at Sophie's legs, then down at her own. "Believe me, you'll be fine with some high heels."

"High heels," Astrid said, taking the suit and letting Sophie quickly shepherd her over to Nate's small en suite shower room. She shut the door behind her. The rustling of material was audible through the thin door. "I haven't worn them since three months into my pregnancy. I got terribly swollen ankles."

"Where is your... girl? Boy?" Sophie asked, quickly glancing over the room to check there was nothing terribly Nate around. She pushed a pair of his shoes under the bed, and bent down to pick up a discarded shirt. It smelled like him too, the cinnamon tang of deodorant he used mingling with the scent of the plain soap he preferred. Sophie held his shirt for a moment too long—Astrid opened the door too quickly. Sophie pushed the shirt behind her, aware she was blushing, but adamant she wouldn't explain to Astrid why.

Astrid was standing awkwardly—they would need to do some work there—but with some heels and a tighter bun, she was going to look fierce, and the idea of it was already starting to work its way into Astrid's expression. Sophie recognised that glaze of joy on her face—Nate's face had been like that, when it dawned on him what they could to Victor Dubenich, when it dawned on him the good they could do together.

"You'll do," Sophie said, with a satisfied nod.

Astrid grinned at the compliment in Sophie's voice. "My daughter's with my parents in Michigan. I thought it was best she was out of the way for this. No need to see her mother indulge in a little bit of criminal activity while she's still in her formative stage." Her indulgent, soft tone vanished a little as she added, seriously, "I need this sorted. I need my girl to grow up in a world where she can believe there's good guys around, even if they are... outlaws."

"We are a little bit Robin Hood," Sophie admitted, rolling her eyes at the cheesiness of the sentiment. "You seem not as... reluctant to deal with our methods as I would have expected. We did a job a year or so back with James Sterling-"

"Jim?" Astrid's voice pitched upwards in disbelief. "Jim 'I can't lose' Sterling, and he did a job with you? No offense," she swiftly added.

"None taken," Sophie assured her.

"It was just... Jim would have gone down that route long ago, but Nate-" Astrid's smile got fond, and something in Sophie's stomach twinged - an ache of regret. Astrid turned back to the shower room, opening the door, and Sophie nodded. Astrid closed the door, and the clothing rustled as she changed back into her original clothing. Her voice was muffled, but she kept talking. "Nate always held us straight. We always, always operated within the law. Of course, Nate could find every loophole, but only if it was moral could we use it. Sterling adopted that like a tiger. He always competed with Nate. I think Sterling thought the three of us were almost a crew, like you, but there's darkness in James Sterling—you've seen it too," Astrid added, as she came out of the small room, the suit neatly back on the hanger.

"Fast change," Sophie said, "you'd make an awesome Grifter."

Astrid grinned and Sophie, unable to help it, liked her in that moment, because the grin was so very genuine. Nate had said that about her earlier to Sophie, that it was impossible not to like Astrid, and Sophie had felt sort of resentful and unwilling to believe it, but it was true. Sophie was jealous—that instant likeability was golden to a Grifter, and Sophie didn't quite have it to Astrid's extent.

"Thanks. Anyway, we weren't a team. It was supposed to be Sterling and Ford mentoring me, but Ford seemed to be looking after both of us. I guess all I'm trying to get out is... I worked like you guys seem to, and it's going to be nice to have that feeling again." Astrid's voice turned a little wistful at the end, and she had such a kind tone and expression that Sophie suddenly just wanted to grab Nate, pull him into the room, let Astrid know the truth, because Astrid probably would take it well. But Nate wasn't quite strong enough yet to take it, and Sophie would do anything to prevent Nate from that pain if he wasn't ready.

She probably would do anything even if he was.

"Let's go downstairs and practice how you're going to blow Bratt away, shall we?" Sophie walked out of the room before Astrid could say otherwise.

Downstairs, thankfully, the painting had gone. Parker whispered something about Hardison whining how heavy it was the whole time.

"Where's Eliot?" Sophie asked, as Astrid placed her bag and sweater on the counter and loosened up, ready for whatever practice Sophie was going to throw at her.

"Oh, he's gone help N- number one set up the Big Store," Parker said, dealing with her near slip a little better than Sophie had.

"That's the second time you've mentioned you have a... number one," Astrid said. "I presume he's your mastermind."

Parker and Sophie turned to her, two identical blank faces.

"Every crew, especially one as well organised as yours, has one," Astrid said. "I guess he's more of a behind the scenes guy."

"He's nervous around IYS," Sophie said. "That's as far as I can say."

"He doesn't trust me?" Astrid asked, looking a little downfallen.

"He doesn't trust himself," Sophie said, the truth stuttering out before she could really think about it.

Astrid nodded slowly, digesting that in her mind. "I guess I can understand that." She smiled a sad smile. "IYS used to stand for everything that was good and proper. But since they fired me... My whole life makes less sense than it ever did." She gestured at the blank wall where the painting was. "See, today I'm even hallucinating that you guys had a painting there that looked like my ex-mentor." Astrid gave a self-effacing shrug and placed her watch in her bag, swivelling her shoulders like she was limbering up for a run, not a con.

"That's really strange," Parker said, a little too brightly. Sophie gave her a warning look.

She crossed the floor and stared Astrid in the eye. Astrid flinched. Sophie sighed, and looked back at Parker. "We've got work to do."

—-

"Right, the old PA is stuck in Idaho, and Nate's booked a temp agency to send us some real applicants for her job. The original one, well-" Eliot said as he pushed through the main door. "She won't be coming back to bother u- what the hell is that?"

He stopped short on entering the sitting room area of the open space of the apartment, and stared at the sculpture that now occupied a ton of space. It was- it was- it was ugly, for want one of a better word.

"It's art," Sophie said, sitting with her legs crossed elegantly, rocking the secretary look so well Eliot had to double take. She even wore glasses. They looked scarily like his. He decided not to ask.

"Fibreglass state of the art," Hardison said. "And lighter than an armful of textbooks. All we gotta do is load it up with some rocks on site, join the pieces together, it'll act like it's solid rock. As long as. You know. No one tries to lean on it or anything." He squinted. "Or touch it."

"Sounds completely perfect," Eliot deadpanned. Hardison started to grin, but his smile fell when he realised Eliot was trying to yank his chain.

"That was Nate," Parker said, dropping her cell phone into her pocket as she walked into the room, clad in the same sort of skirt suit as Sophie, but somehow looking entirely less elegant. "The place is set up. All we gotta do is put up the statue, set Hardison in place, we've got a business."

"Web site's up and running, so are the fake news sites," Hardison said. "I've also faked a copy of the newest Time magazine with Hardcorp on the front cover and an article inside. If you can make sure it gets into his intray-"

"-got it," Parker said, taking the magazine and sliding it up her shirt.

"Right," Sophie said. "Parker, we'll go pick up Astrid from her hotel room and go to Bratt's. Nate should have arranged the other interview candidates to arrive at eleven. Eliot, take Hardison to Brattcom's, there's a suit for you there."

Parker nodded and followed Sophie to the door.

"Do I really have to wear a suit?" Eliot eyeballed the fake sculpture, like it was to blame somehow. "Come on, Hardison—you're the one who keeps saying you've got guns in them arms, time to put them to work, let's get this ugly thing down there-"

There was no response. He turned. Eliot's face tightened. "Guys, we've got a problem."

Sophie and Parker turned in matching horror to see Hardison unconscious on the floor, lying on top of his laptop.

—-

"Right, let's see if Nate's plugged in yet," Sophie said, pushing her earpiece in, Hardison's head cushioned on her lap in the back of the car. Eliot was driving. Parker was a menace driving even when she wasn't going crazy; none of them wanted to risk it now when she was so clearly on the edge. "He usually connects early."

"I heard that."

"It wasn't an insult," Sophie said.

"It is. I don't know how yet, but I'll figure it out."

Sophie snorted, just loud enough for Nate to hear.

Eliot blinked, and then realised who Sophie was talking to. He pushed his own ear piece in as they hit a straight piece of road. "We need someone to take Hardison's place."

"What's happened to Hardison?"

The soft indulgent tone he had been using to banter with Sophie dropped away to his harsh, all-business voice, the one he used when one of them was in trouble.

"Collapsed," Sophie said, trying to keep her voice even. "He's in a lot of pain right now."

Nate's response wasn't repeatable. Well, technically it was, but Sophie wouldn't have wanted to if she had to. Not because she'd heard worse, because she had, but because Nate never swore during a heist. Maybe at the beginning, if he had seen an obstacle far off in the distance that he didn't quite yet know how to surmount, but never in the middle. His swearing meant things could happen which he hadn't foreseen, and that was more unsettling than Hardison's face, contorted in pain.

"We're on our way to the hospital," Sophie said, unhappily.

Nate did that sharp, through his teeth inhale that he used when he was repressing several more choice swear words. "We can't slow this thing down," he said, tight and low like it hurt to say. It did. "Ask Eliot to stay with him. Then pick up Astrid and get her to the address I'm texting you now.“

Sophie felt the rumble in her pocket from her cell. "But what are we-"

"I've got it. Just get her here. And tell Hardison-"

Nate paused, too long.

"I will," Sophie said anyway. She looked up at Eliot in the reflection of the wing mirror. His worried eyes met hers. "Eliot, stay on course. You'll be staying with Hardison." Sophie's fingertips lingered on Hardison's clammy forehead and she looked down at his screwed up face. "Parker, we're going to pick up Astrid and keep on plan."

"But-"

"No buts. We're on a deadline, and Hardison would kill us if we deviated."

"No, I wouldn't," Hardison whimpered. Sophie twisted on his nearest ear. "Ah, ah, ahh, yes I would, I really would."

Parker frowned, but settled back into her seat. "Fine. Where are we going while Hardison's bleeding out of all his organs and dying while we're off cavorting around?"

"Don't say it like that, girl," Hardison managed. Sophie pinched at his ear again and smiled down at him with gritted teeth. Hardison at least stopped talking. The moaning, well, he couldn't help it. Even though it churned Sophie's stomach big time.

"Nate's found a workaround, he wants to meet Astrid at 10, before we get to Brattcom for 11 and pull this thing off." Sophie held in the sigh, but couldn't stop the tension from showing in her face, because it wasn't just Hardison she had to worry about. Nate's first reaction on seeing Astrid was to bury his nose in the nearest glass and hide. He was scared of telling Astrid the truth, and he was going to have to, and none of them handled his fallouts well.

Least of all him.

- - -

It felt like losing a limb, leaving Hardison and Eliot behind, and going to a completely new address, all three pretty much dressed as secretaries, and having Astrid and Parker by her side, it all amounted to a very weird feeling in Sophie's body, like she was wearing something that didn't quite fit.

She shook that feeling side. If she couldn't adapt to cons any more she had no future as a Grifter. Sophie locked the van door and squinted up at the large white building. A Hardcorp sign was already attached above the door. Nate worked fast.

"Come on. Our mastermind's inside."

Parker flashed Sophie a smile behind Astrid's back. Astrid swallowed, smoothed down her borrowed jacket, and started towards the door.

Sophie took the lead, pushing open the main doors, the sound inside surprising her. She didn't know exactly how Nate had done it, but the place was already swarming with workers, and the machinery was buzzing. There was even someone on reception, who squinted at them, tapped on an intercom, and informed them that "Mr. Hardwick" was waiting in his office for them. Sophie followed the reception's gaze to a sign on the wall that already pointed "TO MR. HARDWICK'S OFFICE."

She should probably make Nate do the background work more often. She tried her best not to glee over the fact that if Nate was here working hard on making this place look awesome, he probably wasn't hanging out with his mystery woman.

Walking in heels on the white gridded walkway over the main workspace wasn't easy. Sophie had to support Astrid by the elbow a couple of times. Only Parker made it look like it wasn't anything difficult, which wasn't fair, considering Sophie could count the number of times Parker had worn heels over the last 3 years on one hand.

Then again, Parker was a master of movement.

They pushed through another few set of doors, climbed a set of stairs, down another couple of corridors, and up another staircase, still all immaculately signed (seriously, did Nate have OCD on top of all his other problems?) and Sophie found herself slowing as she recognised movement at the end of the last corridor they turned to.

It was Nate, there at the far end, leaning casually against the wall, dressed in a suit Sophie recognised from his IYS days. She didn't want to ask why he had it on hand to change into. It was probably Plan X or something, although the very idea of Nate planning for any of them being injured or ill made her stomach turn a little. She shook her thoughts to one side. Maybe it was even the suit she shot him in. A smile curved on her face, and she felt herself starting to speed up to meet him- but when she didn't see Astrid match her pace she faltered, and turned to glance at her.

Astrid's eyes were wide.

"Astrid?"

"We. We have to go," Astrid said, her voice raising in a strained panic. She started to back up, small, tiny steps. The movement of someone about to flee for their lives. "Now!"

(Part 2)

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