Mod Gift for Bessemerprocess - 2014 Leverage Secret Santa Exchange
Title: A Boss in the New Way
Author: telaryn
Mod gift for: bessemerprocess
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: Team
Word Count: 1190
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Only own the effort involved.
Summary: AU where instead of defying his father, Nate follows him into the mob and still becomes head of the most feared crew in the city.
Author's Notes: Okay bessemerprocess, time for me to confess something. Your prompts intimidated the hell out of me. You give such beautiful detail in your requests, I was terrified I wouldn't be able to produce something worthy of them.
And then I read your AU prompt. Part of my deep and unending fascination with Nate is his connection to New England mob culture and how well John Rogers gave us just enough information that if you knew your history you could fill in the blanks yourself.
So here it is - the world where Nate follows his father into the mob and finds his true family anyway. I hope you enjoy it, and thank you for playing with us this round.
Absolutely nobody is surprised the day Nathan Ford runs the Fixer out of town. The old man and his son have been circling each other like a couple of alley cats for over a year now - ever since Nate successfully negotiated the acquisition of a good chunk of the North End for himself from Brigid O’Hare. The wags at McRory’s all agree that it was only a matter of time, and old Jimmy shoulda thought twice before showing his son the back of his hand as many times as he did when the lad was small.
Children remember such treatment. Children as smart as Nathan Ford grow into men capable of exacting appalling amounts of payback on those what did them wrong.
Information turns out to be Nate’s preferred stock in trade. By Christmas Eve there isn’t a secret in the whole of Boston that he doesn’t already know or have the means to acquire. Politicians, CEOs, even his fellow bosses - all of them fear what he knows, but none can suss out how he comes to know it. Most say it’s the dark haired beauty he keeps close to his side. Her name and her accent change on a whim, but her eyes are like the fairy pools of the old country, and everyone swears she can use them to see into a man’s soul.
Others swear Nate has a ghost bound to his service - a spirit who can walk through any barrier and steal him whatever he needs. Most will dismiss this as an alcohol fueled flight of fancy, but even old John McRory himself has to stop and occasionally point out that trafficking with spirits is a good explanation why the city’s newest boss never shows himself at Sunday services like a proper leader of the community.
What is never discussed are the things good Christian folk have no easy explanation for - money owed paid without the debtor lifting a finger to balance their own ledger, state of the art security systems hijacked, then put right with no hint as to why or how, the police sent sniffing into place where there should have been nothing to find, only to come out with pillars of the neighborhood in their grasp.
The one thing all agree without hesitation is that it’s Nathan’s hand guiding the strange goings on. So when he decrees that the drug trade is finished in his territory, there is none who oppose him. He deals with the sex workers different - them who can prove they’re clean and not under the sway of one of the bottom-feeders that infect Boston like a plague can stay and continue to ply their trade. It’s also whispered around the city that for a 10% tithe to the boss they’re given access to health care and legal counsel, but most claim that as madness too.
Sane or not, it quickly becomes obvious to them what needs to know that Nathan Ford has no interest in doing things the way they’ve always been done. So when word goes out that the guns are no longer going to have safe passage through the North End, everybody pays attention, even the folk on the legal side of the ledger.
It’s Russians this time, working for the Murphy boys in Southie territory, and most of the city is holding its breath waiting to see what Nathan Ford will do. Even them what are still in swaddling clothes know better than to anger the Russians.
Dawn comes the morning after the shipment was due, pink and soft as any other day and no sign of the ship that was due. It’s not until shift change at Detective Captain Bonanno’s precinct when people begin to put the pieces together about the pile of fresh - and very unconscious - meat in the drunk tank and the crates that have mysteriously found their way into the evidence lock-up.
Talk in the neighborhood turns from speculation on how Nathan Ford will stop the Russians and the guns to what form Ben Murphy’s apology will end up taking. The one thing all who care agree on is that there will be an apology. Nathan Ford may be a boss in a new way, but he knows some traditions are worth clinging to.
“You could stay on.” The surroundings are rough, but he’s made sure the coffee and donuts are from the best bakery in the neighborhood. “Sophie reads you as someone looking for a place to put down some roots.”
The stranger’s shrug is non-committal at best, but Nate reads a hint of a smile in his eyes as he looks out across the water. “See this kind of action a lot do you?” he asks finally, taking a sip of his steaming cup and finding it satisfactory.
“Would be happy never to see it again,” Nate admits, finishing off the last of his spiced apple tart. “But until I have someone like you in my life I can’t make that happen.”
“You can’t hold what you’ve stolen,” the stranger says, giving him a knowing glance and Nate silently blesses his lady-love once more for reading the situation true. Sophie knows. Sophie always knows.
Outwardly he spreads his hands, smiling his most charming grin. “I’m a thief,” he admits. “A thief, a con, and most of the time the smartest fellow in any room. Trouble is, it doesn’t take a genius like myself to see that I’m not a warrior - and eventually even the slowest of the men I’ve taken advantage of these past few years is going to understand what that means.”
“I could earn a handsome payout just by selling what you’ve told me to the highest bidder,” the stranger points out.
Oh, he wants this one. “Could” indeed - Nate makes a mental note to buy his Sophie the biggest diamond in the whole of Boston. “You won’t,” he says to the man.
His confidence earns him a raised eyebrow. “Because I haven’t done it already? Brave man to risk your empire on what another man might do.”
Grinning like a madman now, Nate finishes his coffee in a single swallow. “No risk. I not only did not question your rule about guns, I paid you a handsome bonus to deliver my enemies without killing a single one of them. You haven’t asked me why on either score, but you want to. You’ve heard the stories and you came here wondering which were true and which were simple pub talk.” He gestures at the stranger’s face. “It’s in your eyes. You’re not a stupid man, even though you’re fine with most thinking you are. You’ve done your homework - you know you can trust me, you just haven’t decided yet if you should.”
The stranger is smiling now, and it’s a grin that blends well with Nate’s world. “Convince me, then.”
His expression full of what he knows now, Nate slowly shakes his head. “I’ve got a place ready made for you, Eliot Spencer, and a family like none you’ll ever find anywhere else. I don’t need to convince you to take it - you just need to say yes.”
Author: telaryn
Mod gift for: bessemerprocess
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: Team
Word Count: 1190
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Only own the effort involved.
Summary: AU where instead of defying his father, Nate follows him into the mob and still becomes head of the most feared crew in the city.
Author's Notes: Okay bessemerprocess, time for me to confess something. Your prompts intimidated the hell out of me. You give such beautiful detail in your requests, I was terrified I wouldn't be able to produce something worthy of them.
And then I read your AU prompt. Part of my deep and unending fascination with Nate is his connection to New England mob culture and how well John Rogers gave us just enough information that if you knew your history you could fill in the blanks yourself.
So here it is - the world where Nate follows his father into the mob and finds his true family anyway. I hope you enjoy it, and thank you for playing with us this round.
Absolutely nobody is surprised the day Nathan Ford runs the Fixer out of town. The old man and his son have been circling each other like a couple of alley cats for over a year now - ever since Nate successfully negotiated the acquisition of a good chunk of the North End for himself from Brigid O’Hare. The wags at McRory’s all agree that it was only a matter of time, and old Jimmy shoulda thought twice before showing his son the back of his hand as many times as he did when the lad was small.
Children remember such treatment. Children as smart as Nathan Ford grow into men capable of exacting appalling amounts of payback on those what did them wrong.
Information turns out to be Nate’s preferred stock in trade. By Christmas Eve there isn’t a secret in the whole of Boston that he doesn’t already know or have the means to acquire. Politicians, CEOs, even his fellow bosses - all of them fear what he knows, but none can suss out how he comes to know it. Most say it’s the dark haired beauty he keeps close to his side. Her name and her accent change on a whim, but her eyes are like the fairy pools of the old country, and everyone swears she can use them to see into a man’s soul.
Others swear Nate has a ghost bound to his service - a spirit who can walk through any barrier and steal him whatever he needs. Most will dismiss this as an alcohol fueled flight of fancy, but even old John McRory himself has to stop and occasionally point out that trafficking with spirits is a good explanation why the city’s newest boss never shows himself at Sunday services like a proper leader of the community.
What is never discussed are the things good Christian folk have no easy explanation for - money owed paid without the debtor lifting a finger to balance their own ledger, state of the art security systems hijacked, then put right with no hint as to why or how, the police sent sniffing into place where there should have been nothing to find, only to come out with pillars of the neighborhood in their grasp.
The one thing all agree without hesitation is that it’s Nathan’s hand guiding the strange goings on. So when he decrees that the drug trade is finished in his territory, there is none who oppose him. He deals with the sex workers different - them who can prove they’re clean and not under the sway of one of the bottom-feeders that infect Boston like a plague can stay and continue to ply their trade. It’s also whispered around the city that for a 10% tithe to the boss they’re given access to health care and legal counsel, but most claim that as madness too.
Sane or not, it quickly becomes obvious to them what needs to know that Nathan Ford has no interest in doing things the way they’ve always been done. So when word goes out that the guns are no longer going to have safe passage through the North End, everybody pays attention, even the folk on the legal side of the ledger.
It’s Russians this time, working for the Murphy boys in Southie territory, and most of the city is holding its breath waiting to see what Nathan Ford will do. Even them what are still in swaddling clothes know better than to anger the Russians.
Dawn comes the morning after the shipment was due, pink and soft as any other day and no sign of the ship that was due. It’s not until shift change at Detective Captain Bonanno’s precinct when people begin to put the pieces together about the pile of fresh - and very unconscious - meat in the drunk tank and the crates that have mysteriously found their way into the evidence lock-up.
Talk in the neighborhood turns from speculation on how Nathan Ford will stop the Russians and the guns to what form Ben Murphy’s apology will end up taking. The one thing all who care agree on is that there will be an apology. Nathan Ford may be a boss in a new way, but he knows some traditions are worth clinging to.
“You could stay on.” The surroundings are rough, but he’s made sure the coffee and donuts are from the best bakery in the neighborhood. “Sophie reads you as someone looking for a place to put down some roots.”
The stranger’s shrug is non-committal at best, but Nate reads a hint of a smile in his eyes as he looks out across the water. “See this kind of action a lot do you?” he asks finally, taking a sip of his steaming cup and finding it satisfactory.
“Would be happy never to see it again,” Nate admits, finishing off the last of his spiced apple tart. “But until I have someone like you in my life I can’t make that happen.”
“You can’t hold what you’ve stolen,” the stranger says, giving him a knowing glance and Nate silently blesses his lady-love once more for reading the situation true. Sophie knows. Sophie always knows.
Outwardly he spreads his hands, smiling his most charming grin. “I’m a thief,” he admits. “A thief, a con, and most of the time the smartest fellow in any room. Trouble is, it doesn’t take a genius like myself to see that I’m not a warrior - and eventually even the slowest of the men I’ve taken advantage of these past few years is going to understand what that means.”
“I could earn a handsome payout just by selling what you’ve told me to the highest bidder,” the stranger points out.
Oh, he wants this one. “Could” indeed - Nate makes a mental note to buy his Sophie the biggest diamond in the whole of Boston. “You won’t,” he says to the man.
His confidence earns him a raised eyebrow. “Because I haven’t done it already? Brave man to risk your empire on what another man might do.”
Grinning like a madman now, Nate finishes his coffee in a single swallow. “No risk. I not only did not question your rule about guns, I paid you a handsome bonus to deliver my enemies without killing a single one of them. You haven’t asked me why on either score, but you want to. You’ve heard the stories and you came here wondering which were true and which were simple pub talk.” He gestures at the stranger’s face. “It’s in your eyes. You’re not a stupid man, even though you’re fine with most thinking you are. You’ve done your homework - you know you can trust me, you just haven’t decided yet if you should.”
The stranger is smiling now, and it’s a grin that blends well with Nate’s world. “Convince me, then.”
His expression full of what he knows now, Nate slowly shakes his head. “I’ve got a place ready made for you, Eliot Spencer, and a family like none you’ll ever find anywhere else. I don’t need to convince you to take it - you just need to say yes.”