Somewhere, It Happened Like This, for Ceares

[meatball42]

Title: Somewhere, It Happened Like This
Author: meatball42
Giftee: ceares
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: The team, Nate/Sophie and pre-Eliot/Parker/Hardison if you want to read it that way, which I hope you do, because I love that ship
Word Count: about 4,000
Spoilers: Slight spoilers for S4, but since I don’t actually remember what happened, I don’t think they’re really that spoilery. But I mentioned characters who appear, so.
Warnings: Nothing even near as bad as what’s already been on the show.
Notes: Thanks be to fleurlb, who helped me navigate posting, surprise beta’d and was just the right mix of understanding and nudge-y. ceares, this was meant to fill the supernatural prompt, and also the shippy (at least a bit, I couldn’t fit as much OT3 as I would have liked) and the team is happy forever. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: When Dubenich approached Nate with a team and a plan, Nate saw an alternate future where Dubenich won. Can Nate convince four supernatural thieves to join him when he’s not even sure of himself?


[*]

Paris, France, seven years ago

Nate placed his ear next to the doorframe and listened intently. If he timed this just right, he could catch her in the act, the con artist who’d been keeping one step ahead of him for nearly a month on a spree of art thefts. Hearing the distinctive sound of a painting being removed from a frame, he burst in, gun drawn.

The thief jumped and faced him. She was a dark-haired beauty, dressed in fashionable clothes, and he knew her immediately from her Interpol suspect photo. She was also raising her own gun in his direction.

In a fraction of a second, a dozen timelines flashed before Nate’s eyes. He shot her and she died. He shot her and she fired back and escaped. He shot at her and missed, and she shot him. Or, he didn’t fire, and her bullet grazed him and she escaped. In half of the futures where he fired his weapon, she died. In none of them did he die.

He pulled his gun, aiming it safely at the floor. Her finger tightening on the trigger, she stopped.

Sophie Devereaux, he remembered from the file. Grifter and telemotional. Combines convincing acting skills with telepathic manipulation of target’s emotions. Multiple warrants, no arrests.

“Well, well, Mr. Ford, I’ve been waiting for you to catch up with me,” she said. Her voice was like honey, her eyes sparkled. Nate refused to swallow.

“It was only a matter of time, Ms. Devereaux.”

Her smile fluttered not one millimeter, her eyes, if anything, became brighter. Yet he knew he’d surprised her, even unsettled her. Perhaps it was the rising warmth in the room, the wave of friendliness and trust, and lust.

“P-put the painting down, Ms. Devereaux, before someone gets hurt.” He tightened his grip on his gun, raising it again. His palm was sweating.

Her eyes glinted. “I don’t think so, Mr. Ford.”

He blinked. He shot her, and she died. He shot, and missed, and she escaped, and later took pleasure in destroying his reputation. He shot her and she shot him back, and escaped, which damaged his reputation.

Nate tucked his gun back into his coat. This time, surprise registered on her face.

“I will see you again, Ms. Devereaux,” he promised. Then he walked away.

Los Angeles, California

“Come, you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts, un-SEX me here! And fill me, from the croown! To the toe! Top-full, of direst…”

Nate smiled as she forgot the end of the line and looked awkwardly to the side of the stage before continuing. He watched the whole performance in peace.

Outside, he was leaning against the alley wall when she exited. She looked startled, but he could tell that that was just acting, although not the same sort as what she’d displayed earlier.

“I thought you were great,” he lied.

Sophie gave him a smile, mildly sarcastic. “My only fan.”

“You don’t use your gift on the audience,” he observed. It wasn’t a test, not really.

“My gift, as you put it, obscures me,” she answered. “I use it to hide. When I’m on the stage, the audience should see the character I’m portraying, not some mystical genetic fluke I’m taking advantage of.”

He didn’t argue that her gift was just part of her acting, but he was thinking it. Her eyes narrowed.

“You disagree.” She began walking to the main road, fumbling for her keys in her purse. “I bet you use your ‘gift’ all the time.”

Not so much lately. But he didn’t say that. “It comes in handy sometimes.”

“Is this why you’re here?” She spun around. “To argue about our shared oddity?”

His expression remained bland, but inside he was smiling. She was as dramatic as ever.

“It’s not so much of an oddity anymore.” They were standing just a few feet from the road, the bright streetlights illuminating her profile and casting glimmers off her hair. He could not feel her influence in his emotions, but she was one of the best.

Sophie rolled her eyes. “One in ten thousand.”

“It’s enough for people to take notice.”

“Has someone taken notice?” she asked him. Suddenly the air around them was shivering slightly, tense as though a storm was about to break although the temperature and humidity had not changed.

“Not… really,” Nate answered. “I saw something. Something that didn’t happen.” The atmosphere had settled, but she watched him intently. “A man was going to hire me, to steal back something that had been stolen from him.”

“Seems right up your alley.” Sophie smirked.

“He was going to hire three other people to help with the job. Three people like us.”

Sophie was intrigued. “But…”

“I turned him down. And I sabotaged him. He was going to double-cross us. Try to kill us.” He took a moment to breathe away the memory of an explosion that never happened, and then other memories that never happened either. A coming-together and a breaking-apart. A reconciliation.

He felt an unnatural warmth crept over him. Sophie stepped forward and laid her hand on his shoulder, gently.

“I’ve never been able to see that far forward before,” he said quietly, voice rough from the alcohol that he could remember drinking that morning, but felt like he hadn’t touched in years. “We- the three of them, and me and you, we formed a team. We did the Robin Hood thing, stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, except that first guy, he came back years later and screwed us over. He beat us. We lost.”

Sophie’s eyes glowed. Nate couldn’t look at them, couldn’t stand to see the intrigue and suspicion where he remembered- falsely or not, it felt the same- companionship and love.

“We were a family,” his voice cracked. “I- Soph-”

She embraced him, the warmth permeating his leather coat, his numb skin, his numb heart. He’d spent the last two years mourning his son and his wife, his fatherhood and his relationship, along with the job and home and life he’d loved. He’d been drunk about two-thirds of that time, trying to forget, and he couldn’t decide if this vision was an impossible dream, a nightmare sent to taunt him, or a one-in-a-million chance to reclaim what he’d lost.

Sophie felt all this and shivered. “What do you want to do?”

Wasn’t it obvious? “I have to try.” He didn’t bother to clear his throat, and he rasped like he’d been shouting. He stepped back, stepped away, stood up straight. Aimed for some amount of formality, distance. She could still say no- maybe she should.

“Are you-”

“I wouldn’t miss this,” she interrupted. The last time Nate had seen that smile, he’d walked away, leaving her with unblemished skin and a four-million-euro painting.

This time, they left together.

San Diego, California

It took three weeks of Nate dredging up old contacts and Sophie working her magic before they got a location on the first of their marks. Andrew Jefferson (not his real name) had checked into the swankest hotel in San Diego with a perfect credit score and had spent nearly eight hundred dollars on ComicCon pay-per-views on his first night there alone.

“So what’s his special talent?” Sophie asked, watching the numbers light up and darken above the elevator door.

Nate checked his watch. Four minutes since they’d entered the hotel. “He’s a hacker.”

Sophie wrinkled her nose. “I never seem to get along with technopaths. They’re so… unemotional.” The elevator arrived at the top floor and opened. Sophie and Nate began walking at the same time, steps in synch.

“He’s not a technopath,” Nate said, smirking slightly.

Sophie narrowed her eyes at him. “Then what can he do?”

“I guess we’ll see.” He began to scan the keycard he'd lifted from the front desk, then hesitated. "And, uh... don't be afraid to, y'know, smooth things over." He wiggled his fingers symbolically.

Sophie just gave him a look.

"All right then, let's go." He scanned the keycard and the lock to the penthouse suite clicked. Nate opened the door and gestured Sophie inside. “Ladies first,” he said, giving her a con smile.

The first room of the penthouse, the living room, was spotless, well-furnished, and empty. A laptop was open on a coffee table before an empty chair, an abandoned bag of potato chips and a two-liter of orange soda beside it.

Sophie and Nate shared a look. “Mr. Jefferson, Adam Schteel here to discuss a business opportunity,” Nate called.

“Is that any way to start a good business relationship? Lyin’ about your name?” Nate and Sophie turned around wildly, but the room was still empty. The voice continued, however, sounding as though it were mere feet away.

“Now I’m a nice guy, so I’ll give you a chance to be straight with me. What do you want?”

“Speakers?” Sophie muttered from the corner of her mouth.

“I don’t think so,” Nate replied at the same level. Louder, he said. “All right, fine. My name’s Nathan Ford. I was telling the truth about the business opportunity, though. How about we-”

“Nate, look!” Sophie pointed to the laptop, which was conducting a search of Interpol. “There’s no one there. Is he conducting this wirelessly?”

At that moment the search beeped. Nate’s face and profile appeared and the disembodied voice chuckled. “Nathan Ford, former investigator for IYS. Quit two years ago for personal reasons. Now what would a former insurance cop want with little old me?”

“Maybe to talk face-to-face.” Nate rushed toward the laptop and slammed against a wall. He appeared to be wrestling with thin air for several tense moments, until a shadow began to flicker in and out of existence. Nate took an elbow to the gut before he felt a cool wave pass by him and the struggling slowed. He pinned the invisible person to the wall and gave a tight smile to Sophie over his shoulder.

“A’right, a’right, let go o’ me!” Nate's captive called.

Nate stepped back, fighting a smile as Alec Hardison flickered into existence, checking his Palm Pilot for cracks and straightening his stained Stargate t-shirt, trying to cover up the way he was rubbing his elbow and shoulder. Nate felt simultaneously like he was seeing the hacker for the first time and as though he was one of his closest friends.

“Do you want to talk like adults now?” Nate asked.

Hardison scowled. “Don’t think I can’t still totally roast y’all. One wrong move and your credit scores will join the mile-high club.”

Sophie stepped forward. “I think we all got off on the wrong foot. I’m Sophie Devereaux,” she said, offering one well-manicured hand.

Hardison gave her a distrustful look but accepted the handshake. “Alec Hardison.”

“Now, can we get to business? You’ve got some beer in the fridge, right?” Nate headed to the kitchen and found it stocked with a minibar. He made a delighted sound and immediately grabbed two small bourbon bottles and a beer.

By the time he returned to the living room Sophie was half-sitting on the edge of the table next to Hardison, who was looking as relaxed as if he'd known her for years. Nate nodded appreciatively and Sophie smiled.

Hardison was looking Sophie up on Interpol. “Telemotional?” the hacker said in confusion. “I’ve never heard of that. But… you’ve got some rap sheet,” he said admiringly, scrolling down the list of Sophie’s crimes. “The princess of Barbados scam in Geneva? That was you?” he looked up at Sophie, astonished.

The grifter tossed her hair. “It is such an honor to visit the duke’s private collection,” she said in a Caribbean accent, giving Hardison a coquettish look.

The hacked grinned, and Nate cleared his throat. “Okay, all right, glad to see you’re making friends.” He frowned at Sophie as he handed her a bourbon and passed Hardison the beer. “Anyway, here’s the deal. I’ve become, shall we say, disillusioned with insurance. I’ve seen good people get screwed over too many times. I’ve been screwed over myself.”

The hand not holding his bourbon tightened into a fist. Nate ignored the familiar sensations of guilt and remorse clenching in his chest and concentrated on the memories of taking down Blackpoole. He concentrated on the knowledge that, if he succeeded here, he would get to do it all over again.

He shook himself back into the present and found himself the recipient of a wary expression from Hardison and a compassionate look from Sophie. He felt a warm sensation from Sophie creep around the edge of his consciousness and continued speaking.

“I want to help make things right. When people get in trouble with corporations, big money and power taking advantage of innocent people, I want to be the one to fix it. And that’s why I need you, Hardison.”

The hacker looked skeptical. “Hey, I’m not a do-gooder. I do my thing for cash, that’s it. I’m happy for you and your vision thing, but that’s not my gig.”

“Oh, there’ll be money,” Nate told him, smiling. He remembered their first case as a team, the one for Dubenich. The one they would never do in this timeline. He made a big motion with the bourbon. “There’ll be lots of money.”

“You’re a smart man, Hardison,” Sophie said, catching the hacker’s attention. “I’m sure you could think of ways to turn bad publicity, a corporate takeover, a government shutdown, into money for yourself?” She smiled slyly, and Hardison grinned.

“Okay, insider information is always valuable.” He thought for a moment, then shook his head. “But what I’ve got going works perfectly fine. Why should I take this risk?”

Nate remembered another moment and felt a sudden loneliness without two pairs of blue eyes alongside Hardison’s brown. “A lot of money,” he said. “And if we’re lucky, a family.”

Waterloo, Alabama

Sophie laughed, tossing her head back and letting one hand flutter to the leather braided necklace she was wearing. Nate smiled, allowing his eyes to be pulled to the expanse of skin as she had intended, but reminiscing.

In the years he could remember that never happened on this timeline, he and Sophie had become friends and then lovers. After knowing each other for so long, Sophie didn’t use con tricks like this on him anymore- at least not that he could tell. She had realized at some point that Nate didn’t need to be conned into watching her and desiring her.

Nate took another gulp of beer, wondering how quickly he could let her know that secret this time around.

“Now I’m glad y’all are havin’ a great time in there, but maybe speed it up a bit? I’m feelin’ kinda conspicuous out here.”

Nate stifled the urge to roll his eyes and smiled at Sophie instead. “Just keep looking, Hardison. This is his local haunt. He’s sure to show up sometimes soon.” He held his pint glass in front of his lips as he muttered into the earpiece, and took another sip when he was done.

“You’re not the ones who gotta sit in front of a country bar to get wi-fi. I can’t believe this town is so low-tech. Even the hicks gotta get their internet shopping on sometimes.”

Nate adjusted his cowboy hat and let his eyes sweep over the bar another time. Plenty of jock spurs and tight tops, but no long head of hair attached to a fighter’s shape. “This isn’t exactly my favorite neighborhood hangout either,” he said in a mildly irritated tone. He’d been so quick to embrace the feelings of family and friendship he’d noticed in the alternate future that he’d overlooked just how annoying his team could be sometimes. He wondered what hidden qualities tonight’s mark would have.

Sophie, casting her emotional senses over the bar to search out their target, missed the curious direction his thoughts had taken and picked up his irritated tone. “Give me caviar and champagne any day of the week,” she said, voice silky with distaste. “I practically got patted down on my way from the bar, and there aren’t any police officers in here!”

Nate frowned.

“Do you have any idea the sort of looks I’ve been gettin’? You’d think these rednecks had never seen a comput-” Hardison cut off suddenly with a yelp and a strained gasp.

Nate had already stood up when a shard feedback came through the earpieces and he and Sophie winced. “Stay here,” he told Sophie, fighting through cavorting drinkers toward the front door.

When he got outside he had to suppress a grin at the not-unfamiliar sight. Eliot had Hardison in a chokehold, bent half over, pressed against the side of the building. Only the sounds of Hardison’s pained choking reminded him that this was not a playful scuffle.

“Let him go!” he called authoritatively.

Eliot looked up, blue eyes flashing, face screwed up with the effort of keeping a flailing Hardison still. “Why should I do that?” he growled.

Nate held up his empty hands. “Because we’re just here to talk.” He stayed still and waited.

Eliot’s scowl grew more pronounced, then he twisted and shoved Hardison away. The hacker took in several gasping breaths, clutching his throat and scrabbling in the dirt for his laptop.

Nate focused on Eliot, who was looking between the both of them, his body tense and ready for a fight. “We just want to talk,” Nate repeated.

“Yeah? There’s channels,” Eliot retorted. “You wanna talk to me, we talk when I say so.”

“Maybe this was a test,” Nate said, keeping his tone light and unthreatening.

“I spotted your guy from down the street. What sorta test is that?”

“The kind you passed.” Nate waited for a hint of a question to appear in Eliot’s eyes. “You let him go.”

“That was the test?” Hardison yelped. He had slumped against a nearby car, turning his laptop over to check for scratches. Now he stared at Nathan with an outraged expression. “Whether I died or not, that was your test? I thought you said it was if he would notice me.”

“That was part of it,” Nate admitted. “But I thought you blended in pretty well. What gave him away?” he asked Eliot.

The retrieval specialist gave him considering look. “He’s a hacker. You can see it in the way he types. That and how he looked real close at anyone matching my description and it’s not too tough to figure out he’s the lookout.”

“You got it from my typing?” Hardison asked incredulously.

Eliot shrugged. “It’s a very distinctive style.” A corner of his mouth turned up, just as Nate remembered.

“I don’t think that’s something you would notice unless you were already giving him a close look,” Nate observed. “So why were you suspicious?”

Eliot’s eyes narrowed. “What are you gettin’ at?” he asked in a low voice.

Nate held his gaze. “Eliot Spencer, I think you’ve got a gift.”

Eliot stepped toward Nate, suddenly looking very imposing despite his stature. “If you think you can take me in, you-”

“We’re not hunters,” Nate spat. For the first time in the conversation he lost the cool façade. “We’ve got nothing to do with slavery.”

“Then what do you want?”

“We’ve got a proposition for you. Sophie, you want to come out?”

In a few moments, the door opened and Sophie appeared. A wave of calmness settled over the group. “Have you bunged it up, Nathan?”

“I don’t take kindly to people messing with my head. If you don‘t mind, ma’am” Eliot said firmly.

Sophie gave him a considering look and the artificial emotion slipped away. “You’ve got very good psychic awareness,” she noted.

“Let’s get to the point,” Eliot frowned. “I haven’t got all night.”

“Fine. Here it is. I’m Nathan Ford. These are my colleagues Sophie Devereaux and Alec Hardison,” he indicated each teammate respectively. “And we’ve decided to work together. Sometimes innocent, law-abiding people need help outside the law, and that’s where we come in.”

“Cute,” Eliot snorted. “But what’s it got to do with me?”

“We have a grifter, a hacker and a mastermind,” Sophie said smoothly. “We need someone like you.”

Eliot crossed his arms over his chest. “And what do I get out of this?”

Nate started to speak, but Sophie interrupted him. “I don’t think you need us to answer that,” she said, thoughtful but firm. Her eyes stared daringly into Eliot's. “What do you say?”

Nate glared at Sophie, but she ignored him. Eliot looked slowly at the three of them, and then his body finally relaxed. “I’m in.”

“Great.” Hardison interjected. “Can I please, God, get something to drink now?”

Baltimore, Maryland

Sophie nibbled at a McMuffin and watched Nate with worried eyes. “It’s been nearly a month. I thought you said there was a fifth team member.”

Nate looked over the partition beside their high-top at the floor of tables below, where Eliot and Hardison were sharing a pizza and bickering about something. He sighed and glanced at the departure screens.

Sophie waved a hand in front of his face. “When are we going to look for her? Something’s off balance, I can feel it, Eliot can feel it, I wouldn’t be surprised if Hardison had noticed. If we don’t find her, Nate,” she said in an anguished voice, “then this isn’t going to work.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “But we can’t look for her. That’s not how it works.”

“Then how does it work?” Sophie hissed. Nate looked at her and was surprised to see her eyes even darker and shinier than usual. “Because I want this, Nate! Two months ago, you said you would get us a team. You said you’d seen us as a family. That we trusted each other. Now, I-” she looked away, “I don’t know how much I believed you. But now that I’ve met Alec and Eliot, I do. And I want it.”

“It’ll work, Sophie, I swear,” he told her, feeling like he was grasping at a shadow. “It’ll work.”

“What’ll work?”

Sophie screamed and jumped in her chair. Nate only flinched, and turned to the woman dressed in all black who was leaning casually against their table.

“Hello, Parker,” he managed to say calmly.

The blonde stared at him for a moment, then scrunched up her nose. “Sorry I’m late.”

Nate smiled wryly. “That’s fine.” He looked at Sophie’s I-nearly-had-a-heart-attack countenance and then glanced down at the floor below. Eliot was halfway to the staircase, heated glare demanding an explanation, when Nate waved him off.

Nate turned back to Parker. “Why don’t you go down and meet the others?” he suggested. “Sophie and I’ll catch up soon.”

Parker nodded and looked at Sophie. “Your mascara’s running,” she said, and was gone.

Sophie blinked, then reached for a napkin and began dabbing at her eyes. “So what does she do?” she asked, trying to pretend she hadn’t been startled. Nate went along with it. “You never told me what her gift is.”

“Well,” Nate scratched his head. “I don’t actually know. No one does. We know she has one, because there’s just no other explanation for some of her heists.”

Sophie looked down over the partition and Nate followed her gaze. Parker had reached the boys and was hugging Eliot’s neck like a long-lost friend. The retrieval specialist looked surprised, but strangely calm, an expression Nate hadn’t seen on him in this timeline. Hardison was standing beside them, grinning, and as they watched, Parker detached from Eliot and launched herself at him.

Sophie closed her eyes, enjoying the emotions she could feel from their three teammates. “I think they’ll be just fine,” she said, her smile curling a bit slyly around the edges.

Nate slipped one of his hands into hers and enjoyed the quick flash of surprise he elicited. “We all will,” he promised.