Fic: Some things you can't forget (PG)
Title: Some things you can't forget
Author: vickysg1
Fandom: Leverage
Pairing:Nate/Sophie, Nate/Maggie (flashbacks)
Category: Romance, pre-series
Summary: Despite what she thought, he didn't forget anything about Tuscany.
Word Count: 6,264
Spoilers: All episodes are fair game
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own neither the show nor the characters. I don’t earn any money; I just do it for fun.
Author’s Note: This was written for Week One the 10 weeks of Nate/Sophie at nathan_sophie (Team Sophie). The prompt was 'The Mile High Job', and I've combined it with the Pre-series Bonus. Even though this is set mostly pre-series and during 'The Mile High Job', I reference things we learned in later episodes, up to and including 'The Long Goodbye Job'. Even though this is my first Leverage fic, my Muse ran away with this prompt, hence the length. I hope you'll enjoy it! Thanks to my ever so wonderful beta csiangel for having beta'd this fic and for allowing me to turn her into a Leverage addict.
"I still don't understand how you can mix up Paris and Tuscany."
Sophie walked away, leaving Nate alone. A small smile played on his lips. Oh, he did remember Tuscany. So maybe his alcohol-laden brain briefly mixed the two during the flight - but not really as something similar did happen in Paris, it just didn't involve them working together at the time - but he remembered Tuscany very clearly. There were just some things you couldn't forget.
Tuscany, May 2004
When Nate's plane touched down in Florence, he wished he was here with Maggie and not for his job. It was one of her dreams to come here, visit the centuries old city and its museums, and it just didn't feel right to be here without her. But he had to work, and they couldn't take Sam off school in the middle of the school year. One day though, the three of them would come back here and have a real family vacation.
Thankfully, he didn't have to wait long at customs, and the minute he stepped outside the airport, he didn't have to wait long for a taxi. Promising the driver to give him a large tip if he took him straight to the hotel and didn't try to make any detour to "show him the sights", Nate sat in the backseat.
Taking the file he brought with him out of his bag, he read it again. One of his sources had informed him that a Botticelli IYS was insuring was about to get stolen. Blackpoole didn't need to hear more to send him on the first flight out to Florence; he certainly didn't want the company to pay when they could prevent the theft.
The owner of the painting, a New Yorker, had lent it to the Uffizi Gallery for an exhibition that would start on the next day. Tonight was the Opening night, and he was sure that the art thief would be there and try to steal it. After all, what was better than the cover of fifty other guests? When he told the curator this, the man had wanted to change the plans for the night, but Nate had convinced him that it would only delay the theft, not cancel it completely.
He looked at the pictures of art thieves he brought with him, certain that one of them would be there tonight; those were the most likely as they had committed similar thefts in the past. As always, he marked a slight pause at one of the pictures, one he wouldn't have needed to take with him because it was a face he couldn't forget. One part of him wished she would be there tonight and another wished she wouldn't. He hated being this contradictory, but she always seemed to inspire these kinds of feelings in him.
He closed the file with a sigh as the taxi came to a stop just outside his hotel. Paying the driver, with the extra tip he earned for getting him here in what was probably a record time, he took his bag in one hand and the file in the other and got out of the car. Everything had been taken care of before he even got on the plane, and all he had to do was get his key from the reception desk. For that only, working at IYS had its perks.
Once in his room, the bag forgotten somewhere on the floor, and the file on the small desk, he took the time to call home. He smiled when he heard his son's voice on the other end of the line.
"Hey buddy!" he greeted him. "Are you being good for mommy?"
"Yes! And she let me sleep in her bed last night. I made a drawing for you. When are you coming back?"
"I should be home by tomorrow night, just in time to tuck you in bed and tell you a story," Nate replied; he usually knew better than to make any promises he wasn't sure to keep, but he felt confident that it would go down tonight.
"Can you tell me the one about your trumpet again?"
"Alright, I will," he agreed, chuckling, as he had known it was coming. "Let me talk to your mom, now, ok?"
"Ok. I love you, Daddy."
"I love you too, Sammy." He waited until Maggie took the phone before continuing. "I heard you already replaced me."
"What can I say?" she replied, laughing. "I've found someone cuter than you, and I couldn't resist him. How was your flight?"
"Good. Long. Boring. I wish you were here," he admitted with a sigh.
"So I could be bored too?" she joked, even though she knew exactly what he meant. "You're confident you'll be back tomorrow night?"
"According to my sources, the theft should go down tonight, yes."
"Well, let's hope that your sources are right."
"You miss me, already?"
"I always do," she replied, and he could hear the smile in her voice. "I'm sorry Nate, I have to go, or I'll be late for work and Sam for school."
"Yes, of course. I just wanted to let you know I landed safely. I'll try calling you back later."
"Ok. Talk to you later. I love you."
"I love you, too."
He put his cell phone back in his pocket, and walked to the window. From there, he could see the Duomo, and south from there, there was the Uffizi Gallery. He had to go see the curator, but after that, he was free to roam the streets of Florence, until it was time to go to the museum. He quickly changed clothes, grabbed the file and was out of the door before the bell of the Church of San Lorenzo struck the hour.
Ten minutes later, he was waiting for the curator to finish talking to some of the security staff. He understood Italian enough to know that the man was exhorting them to take extra precaution for tonight.
"Signore Ford, welcome to Florence," he said in heavily accented English. "I hope you had a good trip."
"Yes, thank you, Signore Bianchi. I thought we could go over the security measures you've taken for tonight."
"Of course. Let's go to the security office first, and I'll introduce you to our head of security, Paolo Marchetti. I'm sure the measures we decided upon will satisfy you and the insurance company."
Once there, Bianchi and Marchetti explained everything to Nate: they had doubled the number of guards, placed two cameras right before the Botticelli, and planned on checking everyone's invite carefully, searching for a fake one. Nate wasn't convinced the last measure would be efficient; he was certain that the thief would either have a real invite or enter the museum through other means.
"In the case that we find that the painting has been stolen, the guards will block the issues, and no one will leave before they are searched by the police."
"All of that sounds good to me, Signori," Nate agreed. "One more thing, though: act as if you don't know me, tonight. It'll be easier for me to mingle with the guests. They won't suspect me."
"Alright. You also said on the phone that you'd bring photos of thieves you think could be here tonight?" Bianchi prompted.
"Yes. Here you go," he said, handing the photos from the file to Marchetti. "Make sure your men memorize their faces and look for them."
He still had one last photo left in the file, but this one, he wouldn't give to them; if she was there, he wanted to be the one to find her and apprehend her. He realised that he might be taking a risk by not sharing this information, but the truth was he didn't want anyone but him to chase after her.
After a couple more minutes, Nate left the museum and walked down the Ponte Vecchio and across the Arno. He walked by the Pitti Palace and into the Boboli Gardens. During one of their talks about Florence, Maggie had mentioned wanting to spend a couple of hours here and stroll down the allées. She had told him all about the sculptures and fountains they would find there, and she described them so well, he felt like he had been here before when he came upon them.
This was truly a place he wanted to come back to with Maggie and Sam, when his son would be old enough to understand his parents' passion for arts. For the moment though, he would have to enjoy it alone, if only because he knew that his wife would want him to.
He spent another hour walking through the streets before going back to his hotel. Even though it was only May, there were already many tourists in the city, and he hoped that they wouldn't have to chase the thief down the streets; it would be quite easy to lose someone in the narrow streets surrounding the museum.
Nate went back to his hotel room and started to get ready for the evening to come. It was a black tie event, and he couldn't say he was a fan of those; he always hated to tie a bow tie. But tonight, he had no choice: he had to blend in with the rest of the crowd. Even though he was a well-known figure for thieves all around the world, he didn't want to stand out from the others.
He briefly considered calling Maggie again, but at this hour, she was at work, and he didn't want to bother her there. And he didn't have anything new to tell her since the last time he called. No, it was better to wait until he was back from the Uffizi Gallery with news that he would take his plane the next day as planned. And he would be able to talk to Sam and ask him about his day then.
About an hour before the Opening night was supposed to start, he was back at the museum and into the security room. They had the pictures he gave Marchetti earlier pinned up on the wall next to the screens so that they could compare them to the guests. The cameras set on the Botticelli were up and running, and he knew that they would focus more on those than on the rest of the museum. It would be up to the guards out there and him to notice anything unusual.
No other guests had arrived yet, and the museum was deserted aside from the guards and the caterer's staff rushing to have everything done before the doors opened. He took the time to take a look at the exhibition. One of the perks of his job was that he often found himself in museums after hours, and he could look at the paintings and sculptures without anyone around. No noise, no one else to obstruct his vision; that was what he liked the most.
He wasn't left alone for long; Bianchi, having finished putting the last touches to the exhibition, soon joined him in front of another Botticelli.
"La Primavera," Bianchi said as he came to a stop beside Nate. "It has always been one of my favorite paintings. See Venus, right in the middle of the painting?" he asked, pointing at her. "Unlike the other characters, except for Flora, she looks straight at the viewer. On the far left, you have Mercury: you can recognize him from his winged sandals and the helmet. Next to him you have the Three Graces. They represent the Beauty, the Virtue and the Fidelity. Above them and ready to shoot an arrow, you have a blindfolded Cupid..."
Nate tuned out the rest of the explanation. He knew the paintings and he knew what it represents, and he didn't need someone to explain everything to him. But he also knew that it would be rude to interrupt the man who gladly agreed to his conditions for tonight. And so he nodded at all the right places, and followed him when Bianchi went on to explain The Birth of Venus and how both paintings were displayed on opposite walls in the Villa di Castello before coming to the Uffizi Gallery.
Finally, after what felt like an hour - and to be honest, it was probably close enough - Bianchi left to welcome the first guests to arrive. Nate took the opportunity to go take a look at the painting he was here for tonight. The Virgin and Child with St John Baptist was a classic representation of the Renaissance: Titian, Da Vinci and countless others have done their own version of this scene. But Botticelli was one of the firsts and Nate guessed that it was what attracted the thief to it in the first place.
More people had filled the museum as Nate had been contemplating the painting, but they barely spared a glance at the exhibition for the moment, rather mingling among themselves. His limited knowledge of Italian prevented him from understanding their conversation, but his ears were trained to pick up on some words related to his work, and for the moment, he hadn't heard anything pertaining to his investigation.
"Hello Nate. Fancy meeting you here."
He smiled when he heard the voice he would recognize anywhere. Just like her face, her voice was etched in his mind. He turned around, and came face to face with a smiling Sophie Devereaux.
"Hello Sophie," he returned, before quickly adding. "Or should I call you something else, tonight?"
"Sophie is fine for you."
"You know, I can't say I'm surprised to see you here, tonight."
"Really? Were you hoping I would be here?"
He didn't answer, but he didn't need to; Sophie was able to read him like an open book, which was strange given how little they knew of each other.
"So," Nate said, clearing his throat, "are you here to steal the Botticelli?"
"Why? Are you here to stop me if I am?"
"That's my job. You know that."
"Yes. And no, I'm not here for that, but your thief is most probably here, already."
"So what? You're here, on this very night, by some sort of coincidence?"
"Nate, Nate, Nate. You know that there's no such thing as coincidence. No, I was offered the job, but I turned it down. You know I don't like to work for others."
"There's someone behind all this?" Nate asked, surprised.
"You didn't know?"
"My sources didn't tell me."
"Then, here's what I know. This person, whoever it is, offered the job to several people, yours truly included, but I don't know who took it in the end. What I do know is that it had to happen here because the security system the owner has in New York is quite impressive."
"Well, thank you," he replied, with a little bow. "Any particular reasons as to why it's happening tonight instead of later during the exhibition, or even on the last day when the painting will be ready to be shipped back to New York?"
"Not that I know of, no. Your sources couldn't tell you either?" she asked and he shook his head negatively. "I guess we will have to figure this out, then."
"We?" he repeated, surprised.
"If you don't want my help, I could just leave...," she said, taking a step back, but Nate stopped her with a hand on her arm.
"No, I... I'd like you to help."
"Good. Now that it's settled, do you recognize anyone?" she asked, turning towards the crowd.
"No," he replied, after quickly scanning the faces. "You?"
"A couple. The blonde woman here," she said, pointing to someone at the back of the crowd, "she stole a Vermeer once. The man with her is the go-to guy if you want an alarm system disabled without the guards noticing a thing. And I'm pretty sure that they are working with this waiter, here," she added, nodding to one of the caterer's employees.
Nate was pretty impressed by Sophie's knowledge, to say the least. They weren't among the people he had given the photos of to the guards, and even though he would have eventually picked them out, it would have taken him time. Moreover, he certainly hadn't expected a crew. Since he heard about it from his sources, he had thought it to be a one-person job. But he guessed that whoever ordered them to steal the Botticelli wanted to be sure that they wouldn't fail.
"Is that the other reason why you turned the job down?" he asked her.
"No. I'm fine working with a crew, using each person's strength to reach a single goal. That's something I could do more often."
"You know them, but do they know you?" he asked, a bit worried that they were going to cancel their plans if they saw her.
"No, I don't think so. I've only ever heard about them and saw a couple of photos, really. They're young, newcomers to this world, and unless they did their research, they won't know who I am. But we'll soon test that theory," she said, gesturing towards the curator who was getting ready to start his speech.
"How's your Italian?" he asked.
"A bit rusty, but better than yours, I think," she answered, smiling, as they turned as one towards Bianchi who was facing the crowd.
"Signore e Signori, benvenuti all'esposizione dedicata alle opere di Sandro Botticelli."
After that, Nate once more tuned the curator out, confident that Sophie would tell him if he was saying something interesting to them. Instead, he turned his thoughts towards the woman beside him. She was here, but not to steal the painting; no, instead she offered her help to stop the thieves who had taken the job. He was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, though. He just hoped that she wouldn't end up disappointing him. But really, with Sophie Devereaux, he was never sure what would happen next.
"So, where do you want to start?" she asked, when the curator finished his introductory speech.
"Let's not let them leave our sight. And you're good at lifting, so why don't we see what we can find in their wallets?" he suggested.
"Well, Mr Ford! If I knew the day would come when you encourage me to steal something..."
"Not steal, Sophie. We'll put everything back in its place when we're done."
"Killjoy," she replied with a smile. "Hey, did you see that?" she asked, nodding towards the catering table.
"Yeah, it looks like our waiter has a bag hidden underneath. It might be good to take a look at what is inside."
"Do you want to ask the guards or...?"
"Or. You'll distract the waiter while I look into the bag."
"We'd better make sure that the other two are nowhere around too. If they see us snooping around, they might cancel their plans."
"There they are," Nate said, gesturing towards the couple. "It looks like they are mingling with the rest of the guests and taking a look around, too."
"So, we should have some time before they come back around here," Sophie deduced.
"Ok, show time then," he said, clapping his hands, and they parted with a smile.
"Scusi," he heard her say in a heavily accented Italian - that he was sure she was exaggerating - as he walked towards the catering table.
He made sure that the other waiters were busy before tugging the bag towards him with his foot. He crouched down and opened it to reveal some interesting gear; so maybe it wouldn't go down now, as he thought it would, but later, when all the guests were gone. All the more reason not to let these three out of his sight.
Closing the bag, he put it back where he found it, grabbed two glasses of champagne, and went in search of Sophie. When she saw him approach, she grunted in frustration at the waiter, and left him standing there. For one brief moment, Nate pitied him, because he knew that she had played her role to perfection, but then, this guy was a thief and he had needed him to be distracted. Sophie joined him as he stood before The Adoration of the Magi. He handed her one of the glasses, and she smiled, clinking her glass to his.
"So, what was in the bag?" she asked, when he didn't immediately tell her.
"Three rappelling gears. I think they're going to wait until the museum is closed before trying to steal the painting. Now, we just have to find out where they're going to hide." He paused, then turned to ask her. "Where would you hide?"
"Oh, I wouldn't hide. No, I would have infiltrated the museum staff weeks ago."
"I already checked with Bianchi. No new employees for the past six months, and my client has only decided to lend them the Botticelli two months ago after horse-trading. No, no, no, I think they'll try to lift a key card from either the curator or one of the guards and hide in one of the offices in the back."
"Then, we'll have to lift the key card from them before they have time to use it. And since I think your lifting skills are as rusty as your Italian, I guess it'll be up to me to do all the hard work, again."
Nate smiled at her mock complaint. And really, even if his lifting skills were up to par with hers, he would have still asked her to do it: he loved watching her work and it happened too rarely for him not to enjoy it when he could.
"So, who do you think is going to do the lifting?" he asked.
"Well, I think we're going to find out pretty soon," she said.
He looked in the direction she was showing him, and sure enough, the couple was making its way towards the curator. Sophie gestured for Nate to stand before her, so she could still observe them while pretending to be engaged in a conversation with him.
"Ok, you're my eyes, Sophie. What are they doing?"
"They're just talking with him for the moment. Oh, she's good. She put her hand onto his arm, forcing him to focus onto her only," she explained at Nate's look. "She's not only an art thief, she seems to be a grifter too."
"Just like someone else I know," he replied with a smile and she rolled her eyes.
"The waiter is walking in their direction, and yes, he lifted the key card."
"Ok, let's not lose him now," Nate said, offering his arm to her.
"Do you think Bianchi is going to realise his key card is missing?" she asked, as they followed the waiter through the crowd, stopping to look at paintings every so often.
"I don't think so, unless he needs to go to his office."
"Well, let's hope he won't then. Look, he's walking by the couple, now."
"And unless I'm mistaken, he gave the card to the man," he said, and Sophie nodded; it had been subtle, but their trained eyes had seen it. "I think it's time for you to step up."
Sophie smiled at him as they walked towards the couple who was coming their way. They passed by them, Nate gesturing to one of the paintings on the far wall he said he wanted to show her.
"Ugh! Do we really have to stop before this ugly painting showing a man with his chest cut open?" Sophie asked, with a disgusted look on her face.
"For your information, this is The Extraction of Saint Ignatius' Heart. Ignatius of Antioch was one of the five Apostolic Fathers and a student of John the Apostle."
"You're catholic?" Sophie asked, surprised.
"I wanted to become a priest, even did the seminary for a while."
"What happened?"
"Life," he just answered, and she didn't push him for another answer. He cleared his throat before continuing. "Well, you got it?"
"Did you doubt I would?" she replied, handing him the key card. "I also remembered you wanted to get your hands on his wallet," she said, offering it to him.
"Thank you."
He started going through it, while Sophie was making sure that no one was coming their way. There was nothing to note, except for a couple of IDs with different names on it.
"This one is for an Massimo Rinaldi, and this one for an Ilario Gallo. They're pretty good quality, and I bet the carabinieri would love to know where he got them. There's also around a hundred Euros in there, and... What's that?"
"Don't tell me that this is the name and phone number of the man behind all this...," Sophie said, rolling her eyes at the amateurism.
"Oh, I think it is... But you know what else this is? The name of my client, the owner of the Botticelli."
"He hired these guys to steal what is already his?"
"It's not as uncommon as one would think," Nate said and she had to agree. "And the reason for this is the most common one: I read in his file that he's going through a divorce, and a pretty nasty one at that."
"So, if the Botticelli he owns gets stolen..."
"He'll get the money that he will have to share with his wife, yes. But he'll also still have the painting, and if he waits long enough, he will probably find a buyer."
"That's a pretty well-laid plan. It's too bad for him that word got out that it was going to get stolen and that you were sent to prevent it. I guess you can't always plan for any contingencies."
"Oh you can. And I know you do," he added, and they shared a smile.
"So, what now?"
"Now, you're going to put his wallet back in its place. And after that, we'll just have to wait until they act on their plan."
"You'll have to entertain me, then."
"You want me to tell you about the paintings?"
Nate grabbed two new full glasses of champagne from a passing waiter, as Sophie put the wallet back in Massimo/Ilario's pocket without him noticing a thing.
"You want to get me drunk?" she asked, still accepting the glass and taking a sip. "Anyway, I don't want you to talk to me about anything you don't want to talk about. If you want to talk about the paintings, fine. Or if you don't want to talk, we can just walk around."
"And that will be enough to entertain you?"
She shrugged, threading her arm around his. Sophie was a hard woman to figure out; he had known that from the first moment he set eyes on her in Prague. She had been there to steal a Degas, and he had run after her, eventually losing her in the streets. He hadn't known her name - he would only find out two years later - or where to find her, but he hadn't been able to forget her either. Sometimes, he wished she wasn't so frustrating, but if he was honest at least with himself, the mystery surrounding her was what had kept him so interested all this time.
He didn't talk about the paintings in the end. Instead, he told her about Florence, and Tuscany, what he knew about this region and what he would like to see if he had more time. He mentioned Maggie and Sam a couple of times, but she didn't pry, she didn't ask him to tell her about them. He was sure she knew more than she let on about them; after all, all the good thieves out there do their research on the people chasing them, and if he knew only one thing about her, it was that Sophie was one of the best.
A bit more than an hour later, the curator was thanking everyone for being here and directed them towards the doors. Nate and Sophie dragged behind everyone, eventually losing them. The couple finally turned back, towards the door leading to the offices. Nate knew that the cameras saw them, and he hoped that Marchetti, or whoever was there watching the screens, would send some guards after them. He could hold his own in a fight - and he was pretty sure Sophie was resourceful enough to be able to help if necessary - but he would feel better if they weren't alone.
They rounded the corner just in time to see Massimo/Ilario searching his pockets for the key card. Sharing a smile with Sophie, Nate cleared his throat to get the other three's attention.
"Is this what you're looking for?" he asked, holding the key card between two fingers.
Both men made a move towards him, but he held his hand out to stop them.
"Ah ah! Look, let's be honest here: I don't care about you three." At their surprised look, he explained. "As far as I'm concerned, you haven't stolen anything. Well, aside from this card, but I'm sure when the curator gets here that he'd agree to let that go."
"So, we're free to go?" the woman asked, with an accent that made Nate think that she was coming from Eastern Europe.
"Yes. But on one condition."
"You want to negotiate?" Massimo/Ilario asked, scoffing. "We're three against two. And even if the guards were coming now, we'd still get away. Maybe even with the Botticelli."
"You don't want to get on his bad side," Sophie intervened. "Trust me."
"What do you want?" the man who played the waiter asked with a sigh.
"This man," Nate replied, holding up the paper he found earlier in the wallet. "Is he the one who hired you?"
"Yes," the woman answered, glaring at her companion for having left this precious information in his wallet. "He was looking for thieves to steal The Virgin and Child with St John Baptist from this museum tonight. And he did specify tonight."
"Good. That's all I need to know. Of course, the contract is rescinded."
"Alright. So we can go now?" she asked, just as the guards and Bianchi arrived.
"What? You're letting them go?" the curator exclaimed, turning towards Nate.
"Well, they didn't commit any felony tonight, so you can call the police, but they won't be able to hold onto them. So why don't we spare us a headache?"
"What if they come back?"
"They won't," Nate assured him. "And I'll make sure that the person behind this doesn't try something like that again."
Reluctantly, Bianchi gestured for the guard to let the three go. As they passed by Nate and Sophie, she stopped them.
"One piece of advice. I heard you are pretty good when it comes to electronics, but you're crap when it comes to real work. I've been able to lift your wallet and put it back in its place without you noticing a single thing. If you want to be one of the best one day, I'd suggest you work on it and not let your partners handle it."
"Who are you?" he asked, frowning.
"Sophie Devereaux," she just said, prompting a look of utter surprise on the three young thieves' faces.
"Who is she?" Bianchi asked Nate, this time, as the guards were making sure that the thieves were really leaving empty handed.
"A friend," he replied, looking at her.
He wasn't sure it was the best term to define her, but he didn't know what else to say. If he admitted that she was an art thief, the curator would want some explanations; explanations that Nate wasn't ready to give - not to mention that he wasn't even sure what he could say. So yes, 'friend' might not be appropriate when it came to Sophie, but it was the easiest one.
The curator and the head of security took Nate aside, asking again if he was sure of his decision. Even when the guards reported back that the thieves left, they were worried that it wasn't over yet. He tried to reassure them the best they could, but he knew only time would tell them that he was right. With a promise to come by the next morning before going to the airport, Nate took his leave.
When he turned towards where he left Sophie, he saw that she was gone. He wished he could say that he was surprised, but he really wasn't. She wasn't one to stick around once she was done, and obviously, she was.
He smiled to himself as he left the museum. Instead of taking a taxi back to his hotel, he decided to walk. The night was mild and if there wasn't so much light pollution, he bet he could have seen the stars. On his way there, he called Sterling and told him about what their client had planned to do. They decided on their course of action, which would include rescinding the contract IYS had with this client, and going to see him personally in the next couple of days. Sterling had wanted Nate to change his plane ticket to one that would take him to New York, but he refused; he had made a promise to his son, and he would stay true to it.
When he arrived at his hotel, he didn't go to his room, but to the bar. It was still too early to call Maggie; she and Sam wouldn't be home yet. He sat on a bar stool and asked the barman for a whiskey; he wasn't one to get drunk, but he appreciated a good drink once in a while.
He felt more than saw someone sitting on the stool on his right. Still, he knew that it was her before she started talking.
"You were going to leave without saying goodbye?" she asked.
"Well, you were the one who put up the disappearance act, back at the museum."
"They already knew too much about me," she just replied. "And you know I'm not one to stick around when I'm done."
"But still you're here instead of halfway to another country."
She didn't say anything in answer and just shrugged, before taking a sip of her own whiskey.
"Why are you here, Sophie?"
"I'm not sure," she admitted. "But I already know it's a mistake."
"Why do you say that?"
Once again, she stayed silent, but this time, he was able to read her answer on her face. He couldn't say that he was surprised, but like she said, it was a mistake for her to be here with him.
He was tempted, but he wouldn't admit it, not even to himself. He was sure even Sophie didn't know, and she probably wouldn't believe him if she did. After all, the game that they were playing was one of a cat and mouse: always running and chasing, but never catching.
"I should go," he said, downing the rest of his whiskey in one gulp.
"You're a good man, Nate," she said, stopping him with a hand on his arm before he could stand up. "I had fun tonight. Who knows, maybe we can do it again one day?"
"When you'll be playing my side?"
"Or you'll play mine. I think you have it in you."
"I don't know about that. Thank you, for having been on my side tonight, Sophie."
"I will always have your back," she replied and he knew she meant it.
Without saying goodbye - they never did - he walked away from her and towards the elevators.
Once in his room, he took his cell phone out of his pocket and called home.
"Hey, it's me," he said as Maggie picked up.
"How is it going?" she asked.
"Fine. I'm done. We stopped them from stealing the Botticelli," he replied without really thinking about what he was saying.
"'We'?" she immediately picked up.
"Yes, me and the uh... curator."
Maggie didn't know about Sophie. He had never told her in the five years since he first met the art thief. He didn't really know why he was keeping her a secret from his own wife; he just knew that it was probably easier this way. A lot of people wouldn't understand the strange fascination he had towards Sophie, and he always guessed that Maggie would be one of them.
"So, you'll be home tomorrow as planned?" she asked, jolting him out of his thoughts.
"Yeah. I have one last meeting with Bianchi tomorrow, but I should make my flight. I'll call you once I'm through security."
"Great. Ok, I have an eager little boy here waiting to talk to his father. Should I put him on?" she asked, and Nate could hear Sam's squeal through the phone.
"If I must," he said, with laughter in his voice. "Hey Sammy," he greeted his son as he took the phone.
Tuscany might have happened a bit more than four years ago, but he didn't forget a thing about it. He pondered for a moment to let Sophie think that he had really forgotten, but he remembered her look on the plane when he mixed up Paris and Tuscany. And more than anything else, he wanted her to know that he couldn't forget the times they crossed paths in the past.
Leaving the room, he walked towards Sophie's office. He knew she wasn't gone yet; even lost in his thoughts, he would have noticed if she had already left. The only light in the room came from the lamp on her desk where she was reading a file. He leaned against the doorjamb, waiting for her to acknowledge him. He had no doubt she knew he was here, and that she was just ignoring him.
Finally, after a couple of minutes, Sophie sighed and raised her head to look at him.
"What do you want, Nate?"
Not answering just yet, he walked around her desk, and leaned in close to her, a mirror to what she had done earlier.
"You wore a black backless dress, and your hair was pulled up in a bun, with just a couple of locks down framing your face."
"You remember."
"You make quite an impression, Sophie," he said, before walking away, just as she had done before.
Fin.
Author: vickysg1
Fandom: Leverage
Pairing:Nate/Sophie, Nate/Maggie (flashbacks)
Category: Romance, pre-series
Summary: Despite what she thought, he didn't forget anything about Tuscany.
Word Count: 6,264
Spoilers: All episodes are fair game
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own neither the show nor the characters. I don’t earn any money; I just do it for fun.
Author’s Note: This was written for Week One the 10 weeks of Nate/Sophie at nathan_sophie (Team Sophie). The prompt was 'The Mile High Job', and I've combined it with the Pre-series Bonus. Even though this is set mostly pre-series and during 'The Mile High Job', I reference things we learned in later episodes, up to and including 'The Long Goodbye Job'. Even though this is my first Leverage fic, my Muse ran away with this prompt, hence the length. I hope you'll enjoy it! Thanks to my ever so wonderful beta csiangel for having beta'd this fic and for allowing me to turn her into a Leverage addict.
"I still don't understand how you can mix up Paris and Tuscany."
Sophie walked away, leaving Nate alone. A small smile played on his lips. Oh, he did remember Tuscany. So maybe his alcohol-laden brain briefly mixed the two during the flight - but not really as something similar did happen in Paris, it just didn't involve them working together at the time - but he remembered Tuscany very clearly. There were just some things you couldn't forget.
Tuscany, May 2004
When Nate's plane touched down in Florence, he wished he was here with Maggie and not for his job. It was one of her dreams to come here, visit the centuries old city and its museums, and it just didn't feel right to be here without her. But he had to work, and they couldn't take Sam off school in the middle of the school year. One day though, the three of them would come back here and have a real family vacation.
Thankfully, he didn't have to wait long at customs, and the minute he stepped outside the airport, he didn't have to wait long for a taxi. Promising the driver to give him a large tip if he took him straight to the hotel and didn't try to make any detour to "show him the sights", Nate sat in the backseat.
Taking the file he brought with him out of his bag, he read it again. One of his sources had informed him that a Botticelli IYS was insuring was about to get stolen. Blackpoole didn't need to hear more to send him on the first flight out to Florence; he certainly didn't want the company to pay when they could prevent the theft.
The owner of the painting, a New Yorker, had lent it to the Uffizi Gallery for an exhibition that would start on the next day. Tonight was the Opening night, and he was sure that the art thief would be there and try to steal it. After all, what was better than the cover of fifty other guests? When he told the curator this, the man had wanted to change the plans for the night, but Nate had convinced him that it would only delay the theft, not cancel it completely.
He looked at the pictures of art thieves he brought with him, certain that one of them would be there tonight; those were the most likely as they had committed similar thefts in the past. As always, he marked a slight pause at one of the pictures, one he wouldn't have needed to take with him because it was a face he couldn't forget. One part of him wished she would be there tonight and another wished she wouldn't. He hated being this contradictory, but she always seemed to inspire these kinds of feelings in him.
He closed the file with a sigh as the taxi came to a stop just outside his hotel. Paying the driver, with the extra tip he earned for getting him here in what was probably a record time, he took his bag in one hand and the file in the other and got out of the car. Everything had been taken care of before he even got on the plane, and all he had to do was get his key from the reception desk. For that only, working at IYS had its perks.
Once in his room, the bag forgotten somewhere on the floor, and the file on the small desk, he took the time to call home. He smiled when he heard his son's voice on the other end of the line.
"Hey buddy!" he greeted him. "Are you being good for mommy?"
"Yes! And she let me sleep in her bed last night. I made a drawing for you. When are you coming back?"
"I should be home by tomorrow night, just in time to tuck you in bed and tell you a story," Nate replied; he usually knew better than to make any promises he wasn't sure to keep, but he felt confident that it would go down tonight.
"Can you tell me the one about your trumpet again?"
"Alright, I will," he agreed, chuckling, as he had known it was coming. "Let me talk to your mom, now, ok?"
"Ok. I love you, Daddy."
"I love you too, Sammy." He waited until Maggie took the phone before continuing. "I heard you already replaced me."
"What can I say?" she replied, laughing. "I've found someone cuter than you, and I couldn't resist him. How was your flight?"
"Good. Long. Boring. I wish you were here," he admitted with a sigh.
"So I could be bored too?" she joked, even though she knew exactly what he meant. "You're confident you'll be back tomorrow night?"
"According to my sources, the theft should go down tonight, yes."
"Well, let's hope that your sources are right."
"You miss me, already?"
"I always do," she replied, and he could hear the smile in her voice. "I'm sorry Nate, I have to go, or I'll be late for work and Sam for school."
"Yes, of course. I just wanted to let you know I landed safely. I'll try calling you back later."
"Ok. Talk to you later. I love you."
"I love you, too."
He put his cell phone back in his pocket, and walked to the window. From there, he could see the Duomo, and south from there, there was the Uffizi Gallery. He had to go see the curator, but after that, he was free to roam the streets of Florence, until it was time to go to the museum. He quickly changed clothes, grabbed the file and was out of the door before the bell of the Church of San Lorenzo struck the hour.
Ten minutes later, he was waiting for the curator to finish talking to some of the security staff. He understood Italian enough to know that the man was exhorting them to take extra precaution for tonight.
"Signore Ford, welcome to Florence," he said in heavily accented English. "I hope you had a good trip."
"Yes, thank you, Signore Bianchi. I thought we could go over the security measures you've taken for tonight."
"Of course. Let's go to the security office first, and I'll introduce you to our head of security, Paolo Marchetti. I'm sure the measures we decided upon will satisfy you and the insurance company."
Once there, Bianchi and Marchetti explained everything to Nate: they had doubled the number of guards, placed two cameras right before the Botticelli, and planned on checking everyone's invite carefully, searching for a fake one. Nate wasn't convinced the last measure would be efficient; he was certain that the thief would either have a real invite or enter the museum through other means.
"In the case that we find that the painting has been stolen, the guards will block the issues, and no one will leave before they are searched by the police."
"All of that sounds good to me, Signori," Nate agreed. "One more thing, though: act as if you don't know me, tonight. It'll be easier for me to mingle with the guests. They won't suspect me."
"Alright. You also said on the phone that you'd bring photos of thieves you think could be here tonight?" Bianchi prompted.
"Yes. Here you go," he said, handing the photos from the file to Marchetti. "Make sure your men memorize their faces and look for them."
He still had one last photo left in the file, but this one, he wouldn't give to them; if she was there, he wanted to be the one to find her and apprehend her. He realised that he might be taking a risk by not sharing this information, but the truth was he didn't want anyone but him to chase after her.
After a couple more minutes, Nate left the museum and walked down the Ponte Vecchio and across the Arno. He walked by the Pitti Palace and into the Boboli Gardens. During one of their talks about Florence, Maggie had mentioned wanting to spend a couple of hours here and stroll down the allées. She had told him all about the sculptures and fountains they would find there, and she described them so well, he felt like he had been here before when he came upon them.
This was truly a place he wanted to come back to with Maggie and Sam, when his son would be old enough to understand his parents' passion for arts. For the moment though, he would have to enjoy it alone, if only because he knew that his wife would want him to.
He spent another hour walking through the streets before going back to his hotel. Even though it was only May, there were already many tourists in the city, and he hoped that they wouldn't have to chase the thief down the streets; it would be quite easy to lose someone in the narrow streets surrounding the museum.
Nate went back to his hotel room and started to get ready for the evening to come. It was a black tie event, and he couldn't say he was a fan of those; he always hated to tie a bow tie. But tonight, he had no choice: he had to blend in with the rest of the crowd. Even though he was a well-known figure for thieves all around the world, he didn't want to stand out from the others.
He briefly considered calling Maggie again, but at this hour, she was at work, and he didn't want to bother her there. And he didn't have anything new to tell her since the last time he called. No, it was better to wait until he was back from the Uffizi Gallery with news that he would take his plane the next day as planned. And he would be able to talk to Sam and ask him about his day then.
About an hour before the Opening night was supposed to start, he was back at the museum and into the security room. They had the pictures he gave Marchetti earlier pinned up on the wall next to the screens so that they could compare them to the guests. The cameras set on the Botticelli were up and running, and he knew that they would focus more on those than on the rest of the museum. It would be up to the guards out there and him to notice anything unusual.
No other guests had arrived yet, and the museum was deserted aside from the guards and the caterer's staff rushing to have everything done before the doors opened. He took the time to take a look at the exhibition. One of the perks of his job was that he often found himself in museums after hours, and he could look at the paintings and sculptures without anyone around. No noise, no one else to obstruct his vision; that was what he liked the most.
He wasn't left alone for long; Bianchi, having finished putting the last touches to the exhibition, soon joined him in front of another Botticelli.
"La Primavera," Bianchi said as he came to a stop beside Nate. "It has always been one of my favorite paintings. See Venus, right in the middle of the painting?" he asked, pointing at her. "Unlike the other characters, except for Flora, she looks straight at the viewer. On the far left, you have Mercury: you can recognize him from his winged sandals and the helmet. Next to him you have the Three Graces. They represent the Beauty, the Virtue and the Fidelity. Above them and ready to shoot an arrow, you have a blindfolded Cupid..."
Nate tuned out the rest of the explanation. He knew the paintings and he knew what it represents, and he didn't need someone to explain everything to him. But he also knew that it would be rude to interrupt the man who gladly agreed to his conditions for tonight. And so he nodded at all the right places, and followed him when Bianchi went on to explain The Birth of Venus and how both paintings were displayed on opposite walls in the Villa di Castello before coming to the Uffizi Gallery.
Finally, after what felt like an hour - and to be honest, it was probably close enough - Bianchi left to welcome the first guests to arrive. Nate took the opportunity to go take a look at the painting he was here for tonight. The Virgin and Child with St John Baptist was a classic representation of the Renaissance: Titian, Da Vinci and countless others have done their own version of this scene. But Botticelli was one of the firsts and Nate guessed that it was what attracted the thief to it in the first place.
More people had filled the museum as Nate had been contemplating the painting, but they barely spared a glance at the exhibition for the moment, rather mingling among themselves. His limited knowledge of Italian prevented him from understanding their conversation, but his ears were trained to pick up on some words related to his work, and for the moment, he hadn't heard anything pertaining to his investigation.
"Hello Nate. Fancy meeting you here."
He smiled when he heard the voice he would recognize anywhere. Just like her face, her voice was etched in his mind. He turned around, and came face to face with a smiling Sophie Devereaux.
"Hello Sophie," he returned, before quickly adding. "Or should I call you something else, tonight?"
"Sophie is fine for you."
"You know, I can't say I'm surprised to see you here, tonight."
"Really? Were you hoping I would be here?"
He didn't answer, but he didn't need to; Sophie was able to read him like an open book, which was strange given how little they knew of each other.
"So," Nate said, clearing his throat, "are you here to steal the Botticelli?"
"Why? Are you here to stop me if I am?"
"That's my job. You know that."
"Yes. And no, I'm not here for that, but your thief is most probably here, already."
"So what? You're here, on this very night, by some sort of coincidence?"
"Nate, Nate, Nate. You know that there's no such thing as coincidence. No, I was offered the job, but I turned it down. You know I don't like to work for others."
"There's someone behind all this?" Nate asked, surprised.
"You didn't know?"
"My sources didn't tell me."
"Then, here's what I know. This person, whoever it is, offered the job to several people, yours truly included, but I don't know who took it in the end. What I do know is that it had to happen here because the security system the owner has in New York is quite impressive."
"Well, thank you," he replied, with a little bow. "Any particular reasons as to why it's happening tonight instead of later during the exhibition, or even on the last day when the painting will be ready to be shipped back to New York?"
"Not that I know of, no. Your sources couldn't tell you either?" she asked and he shook his head negatively. "I guess we will have to figure this out, then."
"We?" he repeated, surprised.
"If you don't want my help, I could just leave...," she said, taking a step back, but Nate stopped her with a hand on her arm.
"No, I... I'd like you to help."
"Good. Now that it's settled, do you recognize anyone?" she asked, turning towards the crowd.
"No," he replied, after quickly scanning the faces. "You?"
"A couple. The blonde woman here," she said, pointing to someone at the back of the crowd, "she stole a Vermeer once. The man with her is the go-to guy if you want an alarm system disabled without the guards noticing a thing. And I'm pretty sure that they are working with this waiter, here," she added, nodding to one of the caterer's employees.
Nate was pretty impressed by Sophie's knowledge, to say the least. They weren't among the people he had given the photos of to the guards, and even though he would have eventually picked them out, it would have taken him time. Moreover, he certainly hadn't expected a crew. Since he heard about it from his sources, he had thought it to be a one-person job. But he guessed that whoever ordered them to steal the Botticelli wanted to be sure that they wouldn't fail.
"Is that the other reason why you turned the job down?" he asked her.
"No. I'm fine working with a crew, using each person's strength to reach a single goal. That's something I could do more often."
"You know them, but do they know you?" he asked, a bit worried that they were going to cancel their plans if they saw her.
"No, I don't think so. I've only ever heard about them and saw a couple of photos, really. They're young, newcomers to this world, and unless they did their research, they won't know who I am. But we'll soon test that theory," she said, gesturing towards the curator who was getting ready to start his speech.
"How's your Italian?" he asked.
"A bit rusty, but better than yours, I think," she answered, smiling, as they turned as one towards Bianchi who was facing the crowd.
"Signore e Signori, benvenuti all'esposizione dedicata alle opere di Sandro Botticelli."
After that, Nate once more tuned the curator out, confident that Sophie would tell him if he was saying something interesting to them. Instead, he turned his thoughts towards the woman beside him. She was here, but not to steal the painting; no, instead she offered her help to stop the thieves who had taken the job. He was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, though. He just hoped that she wouldn't end up disappointing him. But really, with Sophie Devereaux, he was never sure what would happen next.
"So, where do you want to start?" she asked, when the curator finished his introductory speech.
"Let's not let them leave our sight. And you're good at lifting, so why don't we see what we can find in their wallets?" he suggested.
"Well, Mr Ford! If I knew the day would come when you encourage me to steal something..."
"Not steal, Sophie. We'll put everything back in its place when we're done."
"Killjoy," she replied with a smile. "Hey, did you see that?" she asked, nodding towards the catering table.
"Yeah, it looks like our waiter has a bag hidden underneath. It might be good to take a look at what is inside."
"Do you want to ask the guards or...?"
"Or. You'll distract the waiter while I look into the bag."
"We'd better make sure that the other two are nowhere around too. If they see us snooping around, they might cancel their plans."
"There they are," Nate said, gesturing towards the couple. "It looks like they are mingling with the rest of the guests and taking a look around, too."
"So, we should have some time before they come back around here," Sophie deduced.
"Ok, show time then," he said, clapping his hands, and they parted with a smile.
"Scusi," he heard her say in a heavily accented Italian - that he was sure she was exaggerating - as he walked towards the catering table.
He made sure that the other waiters were busy before tugging the bag towards him with his foot. He crouched down and opened it to reveal some interesting gear; so maybe it wouldn't go down now, as he thought it would, but later, when all the guests were gone. All the more reason not to let these three out of his sight.
Closing the bag, he put it back where he found it, grabbed two glasses of champagne, and went in search of Sophie. When she saw him approach, she grunted in frustration at the waiter, and left him standing there. For one brief moment, Nate pitied him, because he knew that she had played her role to perfection, but then, this guy was a thief and he had needed him to be distracted. Sophie joined him as he stood before The Adoration of the Magi. He handed her one of the glasses, and she smiled, clinking her glass to his.
"So, what was in the bag?" she asked, when he didn't immediately tell her.
"Three rappelling gears. I think they're going to wait until the museum is closed before trying to steal the painting. Now, we just have to find out where they're going to hide." He paused, then turned to ask her. "Where would you hide?"
"Oh, I wouldn't hide. No, I would have infiltrated the museum staff weeks ago."
"I already checked with Bianchi. No new employees for the past six months, and my client has only decided to lend them the Botticelli two months ago after horse-trading. No, no, no, I think they'll try to lift a key card from either the curator or one of the guards and hide in one of the offices in the back."
"Then, we'll have to lift the key card from them before they have time to use it. And since I think your lifting skills are as rusty as your Italian, I guess it'll be up to me to do all the hard work, again."
Nate smiled at her mock complaint. And really, even if his lifting skills were up to par with hers, he would have still asked her to do it: he loved watching her work and it happened too rarely for him not to enjoy it when he could.
"So, who do you think is going to do the lifting?" he asked.
"Well, I think we're going to find out pretty soon," she said.
He looked in the direction she was showing him, and sure enough, the couple was making its way towards the curator. Sophie gestured for Nate to stand before her, so she could still observe them while pretending to be engaged in a conversation with him.
"Ok, you're my eyes, Sophie. What are they doing?"
"They're just talking with him for the moment. Oh, she's good. She put her hand onto his arm, forcing him to focus onto her only," she explained at Nate's look. "She's not only an art thief, she seems to be a grifter too."
"Just like someone else I know," he replied with a smile and she rolled her eyes.
"The waiter is walking in their direction, and yes, he lifted the key card."
"Ok, let's not lose him now," Nate said, offering his arm to her.
"Do you think Bianchi is going to realise his key card is missing?" she asked, as they followed the waiter through the crowd, stopping to look at paintings every so often.
"I don't think so, unless he needs to go to his office."
"Well, let's hope he won't then. Look, he's walking by the couple, now."
"And unless I'm mistaken, he gave the card to the man," he said, and Sophie nodded; it had been subtle, but their trained eyes had seen it. "I think it's time for you to step up."
Sophie smiled at him as they walked towards the couple who was coming their way. They passed by them, Nate gesturing to one of the paintings on the far wall he said he wanted to show her.
"Ugh! Do we really have to stop before this ugly painting showing a man with his chest cut open?" Sophie asked, with a disgusted look on her face.
"For your information, this is The Extraction of Saint Ignatius' Heart. Ignatius of Antioch was one of the five Apostolic Fathers and a student of John the Apostle."
"You're catholic?" Sophie asked, surprised.
"I wanted to become a priest, even did the seminary for a while."
"What happened?"
"Life," he just answered, and she didn't push him for another answer. He cleared his throat before continuing. "Well, you got it?"
"Did you doubt I would?" she replied, handing him the key card. "I also remembered you wanted to get your hands on his wallet," she said, offering it to him.
"Thank you."
He started going through it, while Sophie was making sure that no one was coming their way. There was nothing to note, except for a couple of IDs with different names on it.
"This one is for an Massimo Rinaldi, and this one for an Ilario Gallo. They're pretty good quality, and I bet the carabinieri would love to know where he got them. There's also around a hundred Euros in there, and... What's that?"
"Don't tell me that this is the name and phone number of the man behind all this...," Sophie said, rolling her eyes at the amateurism.
"Oh, I think it is... But you know what else this is? The name of my client, the owner of the Botticelli."
"He hired these guys to steal what is already his?"
"It's not as uncommon as one would think," Nate said and she had to agree. "And the reason for this is the most common one: I read in his file that he's going through a divorce, and a pretty nasty one at that."
"So, if the Botticelli he owns gets stolen..."
"He'll get the money that he will have to share with his wife, yes. But he'll also still have the painting, and if he waits long enough, he will probably find a buyer."
"That's a pretty well-laid plan. It's too bad for him that word got out that it was going to get stolen and that you were sent to prevent it. I guess you can't always plan for any contingencies."
"Oh you can. And I know you do," he added, and they shared a smile.
"So, what now?"
"Now, you're going to put his wallet back in its place. And after that, we'll just have to wait until they act on their plan."
"You'll have to entertain me, then."
"You want me to tell you about the paintings?"
Nate grabbed two new full glasses of champagne from a passing waiter, as Sophie put the wallet back in Massimo/Ilario's pocket without him noticing a thing.
"You want to get me drunk?" she asked, still accepting the glass and taking a sip. "Anyway, I don't want you to talk to me about anything you don't want to talk about. If you want to talk about the paintings, fine. Or if you don't want to talk, we can just walk around."
"And that will be enough to entertain you?"
She shrugged, threading her arm around his. Sophie was a hard woman to figure out; he had known that from the first moment he set eyes on her in Prague. She had been there to steal a Degas, and he had run after her, eventually losing her in the streets. He hadn't known her name - he would only find out two years later - or where to find her, but he hadn't been able to forget her either. Sometimes, he wished she wasn't so frustrating, but if he was honest at least with himself, the mystery surrounding her was what had kept him so interested all this time.
He didn't talk about the paintings in the end. Instead, he told her about Florence, and Tuscany, what he knew about this region and what he would like to see if he had more time. He mentioned Maggie and Sam a couple of times, but she didn't pry, she didn't ask him to tell her about them. He was sure she knew more than she let on about them; after all, all the good thieves out there do their research on the people chasing them, and if he knew only one thing about her, it was that Sophie was one of the best.
A bit more than an hour later, the curator was thanking everyone for being here and directed them towards the doors. Nate and Sophie dragged behind everyone, eventually losing them. The couple finally turned back, towards the door leading to the offices. Nate knew that the cameras saw them, and he hoped that Marchetti, or whoever was there watching the screens, would send some guards after them. He could hold his own in a fight - and he was pretty sure Sophie was resourceful enough to be able to help if necessary - but he would feel better if they weren't alone.
They rounded the corner just in time to see Massimo/Ilario searching his pockets for the key card. Sharing a smile with Sophie, Nate cleared his throat to get the other three's attention.
"Is this what you're looking for?" he asked, holding the key card between two fingers.
Both men made a move towards him, but he held his hand out to stop them.
"Ah ah! Look, let's be honest here: I don't care about you three." At their surprised look, he explained. "As far as I'm concerned, you haven't stolen anything. Well, aside from this card, but I'm sure when the curator gets here that he'd agree to let that go."
"So, we're free to go?" the woman asked, with an accent that made Nate think that she was coming from Eastern Europe.
"Yes. But on one condition."
"You want to negotiate?" Massimo/Ilario asked, scoffing. "We're three against two. And even if the guards were coming now, we'd still get away. Maybe even with the Botticelli."
"You don't want to get on his bad side," Sophie intervened. "Trust me."
"What do you want?" the man who played the waiter asked with a sigh.
"This man," Nate replied, holding up the paper he found earlier in the wallet. "Is he the one who hired you?"
"Yes," the woman answered, glaring at her companion for having left this precious information in his wallet. "He was looking for thieves to steal The Virgin and Child with St John Baptist from this museum tonight. And he did specify tonight."
"Good. That's all I need to know. Of course, the contract is rescinded."
"Alright. So we can go now?" she asked, just as the guards and Bianchi arrived.
"What? You're letting them go?" the curator exclaimed, turning towards Nate.
"Well, they didn't commit any felony tonight, so you can call the police, but they won't be able to hold onto them. So why don't we spare us a headache?"
"What if they come back?"
"They won't," Nate assured him. "And I'll make sure that the person behind this doesn't try something like that again."
Reluctantly, Bianchi gestured for the guard to let the three go. As they passed by Nate and Sophie, she stopped them.
"One piece of advice. I heard you are pretty good when it comes to electronics, but you're crap when it comes to real work. I've been able to lift your wallet and put it back in its place without you noticing a single thing. If you want to be one of the best one day, I'd suggest you work on it and not let your partners handle it."
"Who are you?" he asked, frowning.
"Sophie Devereaux," she just said, prompting a look of utter surprise on the three young thieves' faces.
"Who is she?" Bianchi asked Nate, this time, as the guards were making sure that the thieves were really leaving empty handed.
"A friend," he replied, looking at her.
He wasn't sure it was the best term to define her, but he didn't know what else to say. If he admitted that she was an art thief, the curator would want some explanations; explanations that Nate wasn't ready to give - not to mention that he wasn't even sure what he could say. So yes, 'friend' might not be appropriate when it came to Sophie, but it was the easiest one.
The curator and the head of security took Nate aside, asking again if he was sure of his decision. Even when the guards reported back that the thieves left, they were worried that it wasn't over yet. He tried to reassure them the best they could, but he knew only time would tell them that he was right. With a promise to come by the next morning before going to the airport, Nate took his leave.
When he turned towards where he left Sophie, he saw that she was gone. He wished he could say that he was surprised, but he really wasn't. She wasn't one to stick around once she was done, and obviously, she was.
He smiled to himself as he left the museum. Instead of taking a taxi back to his hotel, he decided to walk. The night was mild and if there wasn't so much light pollution, he bet he could have seen the stars. On his way there, he called Sterling and told him about what their client had planned to do. They decided on their course of action, which would include rescinding the contract IYS had with this client, and going to see him personally in the next couple of days. Sterling had wanted Nate to change his plane ticket to one that would take him to New York, but he refused; he had made a promise to his son, and he would stay true to it.
When he arrived at his hotel, he didn't go to his room, but to the bar. It was still too early to call Maggie; she and Sam wouldn't be home yet. He sat on a bar stool and asked the barman for a whiskey; he wasn't one to get drunk, but he appreciated a good drink once in a while.
He felt more than saw someone sitting on the stool on his right. Still, he knew that it was her before she started talking.
"You were going to leave without saying goodbye?" she asked.
"Well, you were the one who put up the disappearance act, back at the museum."
"They already knew too much about me," she just replied. "And you know I'm not one to stick around when I'm done."
"But still you're here instead of halfway to another country."
She didn't say anything in answer and just shrugged, before taking a sip of her own whiskey.
"Why are you here, Sophie?"
"I'm not sure," she admitted. "But I already know it's a mistake."
"Why do you say that?"
Once again, she stayed silent, but this time, he was able to read her answer on her face. He couldn't say that he was surprised, but like she said, it was a mistake for her to be here with him.
He was tempted, but he wouldn't admit it, not even to himself. He was sure even Sophie didn't know, and she probably wouldn't believe him if she did. After all, the game that they were playing was one of a cat and mouse: always running and chasing, but never catching.
"I should go," he said, downing the rest of his whiskey in one gulp.
"You're a good man, Nate," she said, stopping him with a hand on his arm before he could stand up. "I had fun tonight. Who knows, maybe we can do it again one day?"
"When you'll be playing my side?"
"Or you'll play mine. I think you have it in you."
"I don't know about that. Thank you, for having been on my side tonight, Sophie."
"I will always have your back," she replied and he knew she meant it.
Without saying goodbye - they never did - he walked away from her and towards the elevators.
Once in his room, he took his cell phone out of his pocket and called home.
"Hey, it's me," he said as Maggie picked up.
"How is it going?" she asked.
"Fine. I'm done. We stopped them from stealing the Botticelli," he replied without really thinking about what he was saying.
"'We'?" she immediately picked up.
"Yes, me and the uh... curator."
Maggie didn't know about Sophie. He had never told her in the five years since he first met the art thief. He didn't really know why he was keeping her a secret from his own wife; he just knew that it was probably easier this way. A lot of people wouldn't understand the strange fascination he had towards Sophie, and he always guessed that Maggie would be one of them.
"So, you'll be home tomorrow as planned?" she asked, jolting him out of his thoughts.
"Yeah. I have one last meeting with Bianchi tomorrow, but I should make my flight. I'll call you once I'm through security."
"Great. Ok, I have an eager little boy here waiting to talk to his father. Should I put him on?" she asked, and Nate could hear Sam's squeal through the phone.
"If I must," he said, with laughter in his voice. "Hey Sammy," he greeted his son as he took the phone.
Tuscany might have happened a bit more than four years ago, but he didn't forget a thing about it. He pondered for a moment to let Sophie think that he had really forgotten, but he remembered her look on the plane when he mixed up Paris and Tuscany. And more than anything else, he wanted her to know that he couldn't forget the times they crossed paths in the past.
Leaving the room, he walked towards Sophie's office. He knew she wasn't gone yet; even lost in his thoughts, he would have noticed if she had already left. The only light in the room came from the lamp on her desk where she was reading a file. He leaned against the doorjamb, waiting for her to acknowledge him. He had no doubt she knew he was here, and that she was just ignoring him.
Finally, after a couple of minutes, Sophie sighed and raised her head to look at him.
"What do you want, Nate?"
Not answering just yet, he walked around her desk, and leaned in close to her, a mirror to what she had done earlier.
"You wore a black backless dress, and your hair was pulled up in a bun, with just a couple of locks down framing your face."
"You remember."
"You make quite an impression, Sophie," he said, before walking away, just as she had done before.
Fin.