Mod Gift for Acquariusgb - 2014 Leverage Secret Santa Exchange
Title: Dancing Around the Truth Within
Author: telaryn
Mod gift for: acquariusgb
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: Audrey Nathan, Phil Coulson, Nathan Ford, Sophie Devereaux; Phil/Audrey, hints of pre-Nate/Sophie
Word Count: 2322
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Only own the effort involved.
Summary: Pre-series Nate and Sophie cross swords again - this time over the cello belonging to a certain Portland musician.
Author's Note: acquariusgb darling, I hope you enjoy this. I don't know what it is, but every time I write for you it ends up being all about the elegance. Thank you for playing with us again.
It was the sort of protection detail Nate ordinarily wouldn’t have been within twenty miles of, except a name had cropped up in connection with the concert - one Sophie Devereaux had decided to add a three hundred year old hand-crafted cello valued at two and a half million dollars to her embarrassingly large collection.
And through no fault of his own, Nate Ford had become IYS resident expert on Sophie Devereaux.
Working in his favor was the fact that the building housing the Portland Philharmonic had made a grab for some of the city’s post-911 money and used it to set themselves up with a state of the art security system. In several cases Nate was able to observe and inspect equipment he’d only ever read about to this point.
His final security check finished just as the orchestra was assembling for rehearsal. Moving into the wings, Nate watched the cello’s artist - Audrey Nathan - settle into position. She was an elegant woman in her mid-thirties, nice enough that he’d been mortified by the time he finished his background check for ever suspecting that she might be vulnerable to bribery. One thing he’d learned about Sophie Devereaux - she was more of a grifter than a thief, which meant that she never expended an ounce more effort than she had to in an acquisition.
“Mr. Ford?”
Genuinely startled, Nate turned to find that while he was watching the musicians, a slender man in a well-tailored dark suit had come up beside him. “Ah…yes?”
The newcomer stuck out his hand. “Phil Coulson. Audrey tells me you’re overseeing her security?”
Coulson… The name had come up once or twice while he was doing his due diligence on Audrey - high enough on her list of known associates to be memorable, but not high enough to be too memorable. Some kind of government agent, he recalled as he took the man’s hand and shook it. “Technically I’m overseeing security on the cello; I work for IYS insurance. Since Ms. Nathan is the only one aside from the cello’s owner who handles the instrument, however…” He shrugged, glancing back at the stage as the musicians began the somewhat involved process of getting themselves in tune.
“Would you mind sharing with me how much danger Audrey might be in?” Phil Coulson asked, drawing Nate. “I have some experience in this area.”
Nate nodded. “I saw. FBI?”
A small smile ghosted across the man’s expression. “I have some experience in this area,” he repeated. “If you wouldn’t mind?”
CIA, Nate’s brain oh-so-helpfully supplied, and for a moment he hoped the chatter was wrong and Sophie hadn’t targeted the cello. As much as it was becoming his life’s mission to bring her to justice, crossing somebody on the level Phil Coulson operated at was so far above both their pay grades it brought out every protective instinct he had.
Which was frankly, just weird.
“If our intelligence is accurate,” he said, “the person targeting the cello is not in any way a threat to Ms. Nathan’s safety. Sophie is pathologically acquisitive, but she has never been known to offer violence to anyone or anything.”
Coulson’s eyes narrowed shrewdly. “You care for her.”
Nate brought his left hand up automatically. The government man - CIA or FBI or whoever he really was - wasn’t even close to the first to make the accusation. “Mr. Coulson, I am happily married.” His wedding ring threw off a spark of light from the overhead spots. “My wife and I have a little boy. Sophie Devereaux is a fascinating puzzle, but once I crack her she will go the way of every other thief and grifter I’ve sent to prison.”
A small tremor of fear shivered through Nate’s body when he realized that he had inadvertently given Sophie’s full name to the government agent. Behind him the orchestra began the opening strains of Elgar’s Cello Concerto in E Minor. So be it, he decided. After years of chasing her he had no idea if Sophie Devereaux was any more the woman’s true identity than the dozens of others attributed to her. Elegant and flirtatious almost to a fault, Sophie was just the one he enjoyed interacting with the most.
**************************
Sophie Devereaux watched the two men from the safety of the wings on the opposite side of the stage. Damn and blast the man! she thought, scowling from behind the safety of her horn-rimmed glasses and dishwater blond hair. She’d targeted this specific item because it was insured for considerably less than the value of the items Ford was usually tasked to protect.
And yet here you are, just as predictable as a summer cold. Her phone vibrated in her hand, almost as if on cue. The moment she’d spotted Nate Ford backstage, she’d messaged her mole inside IYS Insurance to find out what he knew.
Blackpoole considers him the in-house expert on you. Cellist has some high level political connections.
“Cochon!” Sophie snarled under her breath, momentarily incensed at the idea of Nathan Ford styling himself some sort of expert on her. We’ll just see about that, laddie-buck, she thought, fading back into the shadows to avoid the annoyed looks her outburst had drawn.
On stage, the orchestra had transitioned smoothly into the second movement and all the focus was on Audrey. Sophie paused, feeling a small twisting of regret as she thought about how this was going to play out. It was doubtful anyone would blame Audrey for the loss of the cello, but patrons would think twice about trusting her with their priceless instruments in the future.
Why did you have to be so nice? If Audrey had been the owner of the cello, Sophie’s conscience would have forced her to move onto another target. In the entire horrible, back-biting world of the professional orchestra, she had never heard of anyone as universally beloved as Audrey Nathan.
“Do you think that’s him?”
Sophie paused - two of the gossipier lighting techs had their heads together, and seemed to be whispering about the man standing next to Nate Ford. “She said he might be flying out for the performance,” the other tech said.
“I heard he was a spy,” the first one said. Completely intrigued now, Sophie tried to get a read on the man. You just have to be Mr. High Level Political Connections, she thought. The man’s entire demeanor screamed federal government. A spy though? That seemed a bit far-fetched from where she stood. On stage the orchestra had already transitioned to the final movement and was heading towards the coda.
“Natalie told me he’s apparently a big fan of romantic gestures. Candlelight suppers, flowers - she said their dressing room smells like a funeral parlor half the time!” Natalie was the second chair violinist, Sophie recalled. Most of the musicians were still required to share their dressing room space - Natalie and Audrey were the rare pair that managed to co-exist without trying to sabotage each other every spare moment they had.
The concerto drew to a close at last - a momentary hush following the last drawn out note, then scattered applause from the onlookers, Sophie included. Audrey had real talent; as far as Sophie was concerned there was no harm in acknowledging it. The conductor spent the next several minutes giving the musicians his notes, then dismissed them until after lunch.
Gathering herself, Sophie headed on stage. Audrey’s lover was already at her side before Sophie had crossed half the distance to her mark - and from her angle of approach, she suspected that Natalie and the others only knew a hint of how deep the man’s true feelings went. Flat out gone, was the phrase that occurred to her as she reached the pair and waited patiently for Audrey to notice her.
She saw Nate Ford standing at the edge of her vision, but forced herself not to react. She was not Sophie Devereaux now, or any of the others who had cause to fear the insurance investigator.
“Carol!” Audrey said, drawing her bodily into the conversation. “I want you to meet my dear friend Phil Coulson. Phil, this is Carol Rogers - you remember I told you that my business manager had hired a personal assistant for me?”
Recognition lit Phil Coulson’s eyes and he pressed her hand warmly. “If you can keep Audrey from working too hard, you and I are friends already,” he said, smiling.
Definitely not a spy, Sophie decided as she returned the handshake and greeting. The man looked so much like a government pencil pusher she had a hard time picturing anyone taking him seriously as any sort of covert operative. “It’s a real pleasure Mr. Coulson,” she added. “Audrey goes on about you all the time.”
The cellist colored a very attractive shade of pink. “You promised you were discreet!” she protested.
“I won’t tell anyone,” Phil Coulson said, drawing her into a one-armed embrace.
All right, Sophie thought, mentally putting a stop to the banter. The whole scene was growing so precious she was in very real danger of being sick. “Audrey, your reservations are for one o’clock - you don’t want to be late.”
Her revelation caused the expected fluster. Sophie’s arms were suddenly full of a portfolio trying to shed sheet music in every direction. She tamed the chaos as quickly as she could, but as she reached for the now-cased cello, she heard a painfully familiar voice say, “Allow me.”
Making sure it was Carol who looked up into Nate Ford’s eyes, Sophie responded with the expected. “It’s no bother,” just as Audrey added, “We don’t want to inconvenience you, Mr. Ford.”
“I’d feel more comfortable securing it myself, if you don’t mind,” Ford said, addressing his remarks to Audrey, but still watching Sophie out of the corner of one eye. “Given the situation…”
“Audrey,” Coulson interjected, “we’re going to be late.”
The cellist huffed out a quiet breath. “All right - you’re the expert Mr. Ford. Carol, would you show him where I keep her?”
Cornered, Sophie couldn’t do anything besides agree. “Follow me?”
There was something to be said for the thrill of her nemesis falling into step at her heels - uncertain whether he’d recognized her or not. They’d been doing this dance long enough that having Ford so close was making Sophie question every move she made. “You haven’t been working for Ms. Nathan for very long,” Ford said as they entered the main hallway to the dressing rooms.
“Her business manager is very particular,” Sophie offered by way of explanation. “He interviewed nearly two-dozen applicants, I’m told.”
“Before settling on you?” Ford asked as they stopped in front of Audrey’s dressing room. Reaching into her pocket, Sophie pulled out the key the cellist had given her and unlocked the door. “High praise.”
“I was just grateful for the job,” Sophie managed, bustling in and making a show of trying to organize Audrey’s portfolio. She gestured with a nod of her head at the Glen Reader floor safe standing at one end of the room. “The cello goes in that monstrosity.” Safe-cracking was far from her forte, which made the over-sized green box the current bane of her existence. Hearing Ford lock the precious instrument away made her physically sick to her stomach.
“That’s better,” he said. Sophie let herself fluff the sheet music a beat longer, then turned to face him. “The hair’s a nice touch,” he said, nodding at her. “And I have to admit I’m impressed at your guts - the whole way here I didn’t see you break character once.”
“I’m sorry?” Sophie asked, projecting all the genuine confusion Carol Rogers would be feeling.
Smiling now in that way he had that turned her knees weak, Ford closed the distance between them. “Not as much as you’re going to be if you don’t give up this job right now, Sophie.”
“I’m sorry,” Sophie countered, still clinging stubbornly to her persona. “You obviously have me mistaken for somebody else…” She started to push past him, but Ford grabbed her and pulled her in close.
“I’m not going to embarrass you by pulling off that wig,” he said, “but I also don’t have the patience to draw this out.”
“Let me go!” she said sharply, beginning to struggle as she internally weighed her options. If she could create enough noise to draw witnesses, the odds were in her favor to turn this around on Ford. Before she could draw breath to scream for help though, he tightened his hold on her and leaned in close to whisper in her ear.
“Whose prints am I going to find all over that portfolio? Remember…Carol…I have literally hundreds of open cases I can use to turn you over to the authorities.”
Well and truly caught, Sophie closed her eyes briefly and sighed - inwardly cursing the arrogance that had led her to try and play this out too far. “You won’t, though,” she said, letting herself dissolve into Sophie. “This isn’t the way you want to win.” She turned to face him, let him see she wasn’t frightened, but he was curled in closer than she’d expected.
Years later the moment would take its place among dozens of others where they would argue who made the first move. At the time, all Sophie knew was the smell of his skin, the feel of his lips on hers, and the sinking realization as they kissed that they were in this a lot deeper than either of them was prepared to admit.
They may not have known who moved first, but it was Nate who broke it off. “Go,” he said, releasing her and stepping back. Stunned at the abrupt shift in tone, Sophie turned to face him.
His expression was a study in guilt and need, and Sophie knew deep down that the last thing she wanted to do was leave. “This isn’t how I want to win either.”
Author: telaryn
Mod gift for: acquariusgb
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: Audrey Nathan, Phil Coulson, Nathan Ford, Sophie Devereaux; Phil/Audrey, hints of pre-Nate/Sophie
Word Count: 2322
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Only own the effort involved.
Summary: Pre-series Nate and Sophie cross swords again - this time over the cello belonging to a certain Portland musician.
Author's Note: acquariusgb darling, I hope you enjoy this. I don't know what it is, but every time I write for you it ends up being all about the elegance. Thank you for playing with us again.
It was the sort of protection detail Nate ordinarily wouldn’t have been within twenty miles of, except a name had cropped up in connection with the concert - one Sophie Devereaux had decided to add a three hundred year old hand-crafted cello valued at two and a half million dollars to her embarrassingly large collection.
And through no fault of his own, Nate Ford had become IYS resident expert on Sophie Devereaux.
Working in his favor was the fact that the building housing the Portland Philharmonic had made a grab for some of the city’s post-911 money and used it to set themselves up with a state of the art security system. In several cases Nate was able to observe and inspect equipment he’d only ever read about to this point.
His final security check finished just as the orchestra was assembling for rehearsal. Moving into the wings, Nate watched the cello’s artist - Audrey Nathan - settle into position. She was an elegant woman in her mid-thirties, nice enough that he’d been mortified by the time he finished his background check for ever suspecting that she might be vulnerable to bribery. One thing he’d learned about Sophie Devereaux - she was more of a grifter than a thief, which meant that she never expended an ounce more effort than she had to in an acquisition.
“Mr. Ford?”
Genuinely startled, Nate turned to find that while he was watching the musicians, a slender man in a well-tailored dark suit had come up beside him. “Ah…yes?”
The newcomer stuck out his hand. “Phil Coulson. Audrey tells me you’re overseeing her security?”
Coulson… The name had come up once or twice while he was doing his due diligence on Audrey - high enough on her list of known associates to be memorable, but not high enough to be too memorable. Some kind of government agent, he recalled as he took the man’s hand and shook it. “Technically I’m overseeing security on the cello; I work for IYS insurance. Since Ms. Nathan is the only one aside from the cello’s owner who handles the instrument, however…” He shrugged, glancing back at the stage as the musicians began the somewhat involved process of getting themselves in tune.
“Would you mind sharing with me how much danger Audrey might be in?” Phil Coulson asked, drawing Nate. “I have some experience in this area.”
Nate nodded. “I saw. FBI?”
A small smile ghosted across the man’s expression. “I have some experience in this area,” he repeated. “If you wouldn’t mind?”
CIA, Nate’s brain oh-so-helpfully supplied, and for a moment he hoped the chatter was wrong and Sophie hadn’t targeted the cello. As much as it was becoming his life’s mission to bring her to justice, crossing somebody on the level Phil Coulson operated at was so far above both their pay grades it brought out every protective instinct he had.
Which was frankly, just weird.
“If our intelligence is accurate,” he said, “the person targeting the cello is not in any way a threat to Ms. Nathan’s safety. Sophie is pathologically acquisitive, but she has never been known to offer violence to anyone or anything.”
Coulson’s eyes narrowed shrewdly. “You care for her.”
Nate brought his left hand up automatically. The government man - CIA or FBI or whoever he really was - wasn’t even close to the first to make the accusation. “Mr. Coulson, I am happily married.” His wedding ring threw off a spark of light from the overhead spots. “My wife and I have a little boy. Sophie Devereaux is a fascinating puzzle, but once I crack her she will go the way of every other thief and grifter I’ve sent to prison.”
A small tremor of fear shivered through Nate’s body when he realized that he had inadvertently given Sophie’s full name to the government agent. Behind him the orchestra began the opening strains of Elgar’s Cello Concerto in E Minor. So be it, he decided. After years of chasing her he had no idea if Sophie Devereaux was any more the woman’s true identity than the dozens of others attributed to her. Elegant and flirtatious almost to a fault, Sophie was just the one he enjoyed interacting with the most.
**************************
Sophie Devereaux watched the two men from the safety of the wings on the opposite side of the stage. Damn and blast the man! she thought, scowling from behind the safety of her horn-rimmed glasses and dishwater blond hair. She’d targeted this specific item because it was insured for considerably less than the value of the items Ford was usually tasked to protect.
And yet here you are, just as predictable as a summer cold. Her phone vibrated in her hand, almost as if on cue. The moment she’d spotted Nate Ford backstage, she’d messaged her mole inside IYS Insurance to find out what he knew.
Blackpoole considers him the in-house expert on you. Cellist has some high level political connections.
“Cochon!” Sophie snarled under her breath, momentarily incensed at the idea of Nathan Ford styling himself some sort of expert on her. We’ll just see about that, laddie-buck, she thought, fading back into the shadows to avoid the annoyed looks her outburst had drawn.
On stage, the orchestra had transitioned smoothly into the second movement and all the focus was on Audrey. Sophie paused, feeling a small twisting of regret as she thought about how this was going to play out. It was doubtful anyone would blame Audrey for the loss of the cello, but patrons would think twice about trusting her with their priceless instruments in the future.
Why did you have to be so nice? If Audrey had been the owner of the cello, Sophie’s conscience would have forced her to move onto another target. In the entire horrible, back-biting world of the professional orchestra, she had never heard of anyone as universally beloved as Audrey Nathan.
“Do you think that’s him?”
Sophie paused - two of the gossipier lighting techs had their heads together, and seemed to be whispering about the man standing next to Nate Ford. “She said he might be flying out for the performance,” the other tech said.
“I heard he was a spy,” the first one said. Completely intrigued now, Sophie tried to get a read on the man. You just have to be Mr. High Level Political Connections, she thought. The man’s entire demeanor screamed federal government. A spy though? That seemed a bit far-fetched from where she stood. On stage the orchestra had already transitioned to the final movement and was heading towards the coda.
“Natalie told me he’s apparently a big fan of romantic gestures. Candlelight suppers, flowers - she said their dressing room smells like a funeral parlor half the time!” Natalie was the second chair violinist, Sophie recalled. Most of the musicians were still required to share their dressing room space - Natalie and Audrey were the rare pair that managed to co-exist without trying to sabotage each other every spare moment they had.
The concerto drew to a close at last - a momentary hush following the last drawn out note, then scattered applause from the onlookers, Sophie included. Audrey had real talent; as far as Sophie was concerned there was no harm in acknowledging it. The conductor spent the next several minutes giving the musicians his notes, then dismissed them until after lunch.
Gathering herself, Sophie headed on stage. Audrey’s lover was already at her side before Sophie had crossed half the distance to her mark - and from her angle of approach, she suspected that Natalie and the others only knew a hint of how deep the man’s true feelings went. Flat out gone, was the phrase that occurred to her as she reached the pair and waited patiently for Audrey to notice her.
She saw Nate Ford standing at the edge of her vision, but forced herself not to react. She was not Sophie Devereaux now, or any of the others who had cause to fear the insurance investigator.
“Carol!” Audrey said, drawing her bodily into the conversation. “I want you to meet my dear friend Phil Coulson. Phil, this is Carol Rogers - you remember I told you that my business manager had hired a personal assistant for me?”
Recognition lit Phil Coulson’s eyes and he pressed her hand warmly. “If you can keep Audrey from working too hard, you and I are friends already,” he said, smiling.
Definitely not a spy, Sophie decided as she returned the handshake and greeting. The man looked so much like a government pencil pusher she had a hard time picturing anyone taking him seriously as any sort of covert operative. “It’s a real pleasure Mr. Coulson,” she added. “Audrey goes on about you all the time.”
The cellist colored a very attractive shade of pink. “You promised you were discreet!” she protested.
“I won’t tell anyone,” Phil Coulson said, drawing her into a one-armed embrace.
All right, Sophie thought, mentally putting a stop to the banter. The whole scene was growing so precious she was in very real danger of being sick. “Audrey, your reservations are for one o’clock - you don’t want to be late.”
Her revelation caused the expected fluster. Sophie’s arms were suddenly full of a portfolio trying to shed sheet music in every direction. She tamed the chaos as quickly as she could, but as she reached for the now-cased cello, she heard a painfully familiar voice say, “Allow me.”
Making sure it was Carol who looked up into Nate Ford’s eyes, Sophie responded with the expected. “It’s no bother,” just as Audrey added, “We don’t want to inconvenience you, Mr. Ford.”
“I’d feel more comfortable securing it myself, if you don’t mind,” Ford said, addressing his remarks to Audrey, but still watching Sophie out of the corner of one eye. “Given the situation…”
“Audrey,” Coulson interjected, “we’re going to be late.”
The cellist huffed out a quiet breath. “All right - you’re the expert Mr. Ford. Carol, would you show him where I keep her?”
Cornered, Sophie couldn’t do anything besides agree. “Follow me?”
There was something to be said for the thrill of her nemesis falling into step at her heels - uncertain whether he’d recognized her or not. They’d been doing this dance long enough that having Ford so close was making Sophie question every move she made. “You haven’t been working for Ms. Nathan for very long,” Ford said as they entered the main hallway to the dressing rooms.
“Her business manager is very particular,” Sophie offered by way of explanation. “He interviewed nearly two-dozen applicants, I’m told.”
“Before settling on you?” Ford asked as they stopped in front of Audrey’s dressing room. Reaching into her pocket, Sophie pulled out the key the cellist had given her and unlocked the door. “High praise.”
“I was just grateful for the job,” Sophie managed, bustling in and making a show of trying to organize Audrey’s portfolio. She gestured with a nod of her head at the Glen Reader floor safe standing at one end of the room. “The cello goes in that monstrosity.” Safe-cracking was far from her forte, which made the over-sized green box the current bane of her existence. Hearing Ford lock the precious instrument away made her physically sick to her stomach.
“That’s better,” he said. Sophie let herself fluff the sheet music a beat longer, then turned to face him. “The hair’s a nice touch,” he said, nodding at her. “And I have to admit I’m impressed at your guts - the whole way here I didn’t see you break character once.”
“I’m sorry?” Sophie asked, projecting all the genuine confusion Carol Rogers would be feeling.
Smiling now in that way he had that turned her knees weak, Ford closed the distance between them. “Not as much as you’re going to be if you don’t give up this job right now, Sophie.”
“I’m sorry,” Sophie countered, still clinging stubbornly to her persona. “You obviously have me mistaken for somebody else…” She started to push past him, but Ford grabbed her and pulled her in close.
“I’m not going to embarrass you by pulling off that wig,” he said, “but I also don’t have the patience to draw this out.”
“Let me go!” she said sharply, beginning to struggle as she internally weighed her options. If she could create enough noise to draw witnesses, the odds were in her favor to turn this around on Ford. Before she could draw breath to scream for help though, he tightened his hold on her and leaned in close to whisper in her ear.
“Whose prints am I going to find all over that portfolio? Remember…Carol…I have literally hundreds of open cases I can use to turn you over to the authorities.”
Well and truly caught, Sophie closed her eyes briefly and sighed - inwardly cursing the arrogance that had led her to try and play this out too far. “You won’t, though,” she said, letting herself dissolve into Sophie. “This isn’t the way you want to win.” She turned to face him, let him see she wasn’t frightened, but he was curled in closer than she’d expected.
Years later the moment would take its place among dozens of others where they would argue who made the first move. At the time, all Sophie knew was the smell of his skin, the feel of his lips on hers, and the sinking realization as they kissed that they were in this a lot deeper than either of them was prepared to admit.
They may not have known who moved first, but it was Nate who broke it off. “Go,” he said, releasing her and stepping back. Stunned at the abrupt shift in tone, Sophie turned to face him.
His expression was a study in guilt and need, and Sophie knew deep down that the last thing she wanted to do was leave. “This isn’t how I want to win either.”