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Entry tags:
fic: Leverage, Tomorrow Finds its Way, PG
disclaimer: not mine
fandom: Leverage
length: 1600+
characters, pairing: Sophie, Maggie; Sophie/Maggie, hints of Sophie/Nate and Maggie/Nate.
rating: PG, language, some kissing.
set: pretty much directly after The First David Job
notes: I blame![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ijemanja for demanding such.
Tomorrow Finds its Way
by ALC Punk!
"I remember you," Maggie says as she's opening the door. She doesn't look surprised to see Sophie standing there.
Sophie. Jenny. Portia. Sometimes, she wonders a little if names matter. She cracks a slight smile as she steps inside the small house. It's less than what Maggie could afford--Maggie isn't rolling in it, but she's no slouch with the stock market. Or with investments. "I rather thought you might."
They're both silent as Maggie leads the way into the kitchen. It's sun-drenched, like some fantasy out of a family magazine, complete with gingham curtains and toddlers laughing at the table. It's lacking the latter two of course, and Maggie chose a pale cream to accent the blues and golds of her interior design. Sophie knows casing the room is automatic, but tries to stop herself. It isn't really that polite.
"Silver's in the dresser upstairs and there's an antique cameo that was Nate's great grandmother's in the jewelry box." Maggie tells her as she opens a cabinet full of tea.
There's a kettle on the stove, burner lit merrily beneath it. And two mugs on the counter.
"You were expecting someone?" It's not like she doesn't know who. Sophie glances out the window, watching the grass and the trees and wondering for a fleeting moment if she could enjoy that rather than what she is.
Maggie laughs, turning to look at her. "I know you."
"Lapsang souchong if you have it," replies Sophie before she moves to sit at the table, legs crossed. She wonders if she's using her 'con' voice, as Nate always accuses her of doing when she wants to get her way.
"Bought some just for you."
It's strange, this kitchen and Maggie. Strange because it's a reminder of things Sophie had long forgotten (or tried to forget). Places she's seen, people she's been, artifacts she's stolen--they all revolve around this sort of comfortableness. This idea of a retirement spent with nothing to fear.
Maggie interrupts her as she sets the mugs down, "Give it time to steep," she drops into the other chair, looking contemplatively at Sophie. "And tell me what's going on."
"You remember the Vatican?"
-
The tale takes longer, with Maggie interrupting for clarification and commentary. Something about Sophie being predictable makes her laugh, the sound right for the still-sunny kitchen. Sophie lets her eyes drift to the window, waiting as Maggie giggles into her second mug of tea, the liquid sloshing a little before she gets control of her hands, sipping.
"You never told Nate," Sophie guesses, watching the golden light in the green grass fade slowly to grey as the sun begins to set.
"It never seemed something he should know." Restless suddenly, Maggie moves to the sink, hands putting more water in the kettle while her mind seems to work. She turns abruptly, water still running and looks at Sophie. "You never told him, either."
"Well, no. As you say, there wasn't..." Sophie trails off and looks at Maggie, half-smiling. "You haven't changed."
"That surprise you?" Setting the kettle on the stove, Maggie turns on the burner. "Do you want Indian for dinner? I was thinking of chicken masala curry and jasmine rice."
Comfort foods. Things that bring back sudden, sharp memories and Sophie wants to jump up and run. But where will she run to? The thought of how ironic this all is doesn't escape her. She could run. She has an island, she has houses, she has money to live on until she's dead and buried. But she's staying. For revenge? For something else?
"Food sounds lovely."
Maggie looks at her, lips twisted into something that isn't a smile, "Don't try turning me up sweet, Jenny--"
"Sophie."
"You did always like the classics."
"And you never knew when to let well enough alone. An honest woman in a city like Rome was a little too hard to resist."
Maggie sits down again and puts her elbows on the table, grinning. It's the impish look she had more than ten years before. "You were never one to waste time."
"Time is fleeting."
"You read that off a Hallmark card."
"Actually, it's Shakespeare." It's Sophie's turn to stand and she moves to the window. The sun has drifted down further, shots of pink and purple tingeing the sky. If they were slightly more southerly, it might turn red. Deep reddish streaks that would look as though the sky were ripped in two.
Maggie's hand touches the small of Sophie's back and her chin settles gently on her shoulder. "Do you like the view? It's no Paris in the springtime."
"I could run, you know. I could walk away and never look back."
Maybe she has to say those words to make them real. Maybe there's only a choice when the world knows the stakes. Or maybe she's just looking for someone else to make the decision for her. Sophie doesn't know. But she doesn't turn and she doesn't shrug away from Maggie.
There's comfort in being held, even if it's been so long that you're both different.
"Has life been so hard for you?" Maggie asks softly.
"It's been hard for you." No question, of course. "Did you know, I was afraid you'd tell him? In the beginning, all I could think was, 'if Maggie utters a word'... but you didn't. And you sealed this deal for us. Why?"
"Sterling asked me to."
And just like that, the stakes change.
Sophie doesn't move, though she knows she stiffens. Sometimes, she can lie with even her body. Right now, she's a little slow on the uptake. "I should have realized who told him."
"He already knew," Maggie says quietly. "Just like he knew that I would say yes."
"Why did you do it? Revenge?"
Maggie laughs again, not moving from where she's leaning against Sophie. "Not really. I've had ten years to think about revenge, and this is never the way I would have gone around with it. No. I did it for Nate."
"Oh, I can see that. The team's split, Nate's whole life is in tatters--"
"It's been in tatters for years, now it's more than simply under the surface."
Sophie has to admit that last is true, and wonders a little what would have happened had Nate stopped drinking months ago. The first David would still be in the museum, and Parker would never have stolen it from her. "Given. Why aren't you calling Sterling and turning me in?"
"For the same reason I authenticated the first David as the second," Maggie replies. "Nate is better than Sterling, he's just a little too drunk to realize it right now."
"Well, maybe once--"
"And I know what IYS refused to do."
The tension in the room is now in Maggie, vibrating through her hands with a strange intensity as though, for just an instant, she would like Blackpoole's neck between her hands. Then she relaxes again, pressing harder against Sophie, her hands sliding around Sophie's waist.
"Nate never..."
"He always did underestimate me."
Sophie deciphers that as her hands absently brush over Maggie's. Their fingers slide together and it's ten years before, the heat of the summer filling their tiny room. Not that they cared about the heat, too intent on each other. Both in a strange little competition until Maggie wins, her lips catching Jenny's cries and swallowing them whole, greedy with her own need to follow.
"You set Sterling up."
"In a way. Your team is different from what he's used to. Sterling uses people then discards them at a whim. Nate..."
"He builds trust." Sophie turns abruptly, hands sliding up Maggie's arms, cupping her face gently. "Could we stop talking about Nate?"
"It's been ten years."
"Yes, it has," says Sophie with no inflection.
Maggie leans closer and Sophie lets her. The kiss is almost chaste, tentative. Both women testing each other until Maggie pulls back. "So what's the plan?"
"There isn't one," Sophie says, feeling confused for a moment.
Kissing Maggie is simpler than trying to sort out what's going on. And maybe Maggie agrees, her hands pulling a bit at Sophie's shirt, nails brushing over the skin there for a moment before she laughs, pulling away to murmur, "You're stealing again, Jenny."
For an instant, that's all right with Sophie. She can be two people at once, she can straddle personalities and memories. Then she shakes her head and catches at Maggie's hands. "Sophie. Jenny died in Greece, thrown under a bus for convenience."
Maggie smiles a little enigmatically, "We all need our excuses."
The moment is lost, then, Sophie letting her walk away. Like she did in Rome, watching the sun set, turning the trees golden for an instant before it was dark and grey. Poetic, surely, but it was apt. "Were you going to order dinner, or should I leave?"
"Dinner."
Right. Dinner, she can handle.
"During dessert, I can tell you my plan. And then you'd better call Nate and the rest of your team. Otherwise, we'll never take Sterling and Blackpoole down."
Maggie looks a little smug when Sophie stares at her, speechless. She stirs her tea, now quite cold, and tilts her head a little. "Just because I was never in charge of Nate's little plans didn't mean I never enjoyed them. And I know all of them better than either of you do, now."
The kettle whistles, breaking Sophie free of her paralysis and she moves to turn it off, pouring the steaming water into the small clay teapot. "Tell me your plan and I'll think about it."
She doesn't need to look out the window again to see the sun fading into grey.
-f-
fandom: Leverage
length: 1600+
characters, pairing: Sophie, Maggie; Sophie/Maggie, hints of Sophie/Nate and Maggie/Nate.
rating: PG, language, some kissing.
set: pretty much directly after The First David Job
notes: I blame
ijemanja for demanding such. Tomorrow Finds its Way
by ALC Punk!
"I remember you," Maggie says as she's opening the door. She doesn't look surprised to see Sophie standing there.
Sophie. Jenny. Portia. Sometimes, she wonders a little if names matter. She cracks a slight smile as she steps inside the small house. It's less than what Maggie could afford--Maggie isn't rolling in it, but she's no slouch with the stock market. Or with investments. "I rather thought you might."
They're both silent as Maggie leads the way into the kitchen. It's sun-drenched, like some fantasy out of a family magazine, complete with gingham curtains and toddlers laughing at the table. It's lacking the latter two of course, and Maggie chose a pale cream to accent the blues and golds of her interior design. Sophie knows casing the room is automatic, but tries to stop herself. It isn't really that polite.
"Silver's in the dresser upstairs and there's an antique cameo that was Nate's great grandmother's in the jewelry box." Maggie tells her as she opens a cabinet full of tea.
There's a kettle on the stove, burner lit merrily beneath it. And two mugs on the counter.
"You were expecting someone?" It's not like she doesn't know who. Sophie glances out the window, watching the grass and the trees and wondering for a fleeting moment if she could enjoy that rather than what she is.
Maggie laughs, turning to look at her. "I know you."
"Lapsang souchong if you have it," replies Sophie before she moves to sit at the table, legs crossed. She wonders if she's using her 'con' voice, as Nate always accuses her of doing when she wants to get her way.
"Bought some just for you."
It's strange, this kitchen and Maggie. Strange because it's a reminder of things Sophie had long forgotten (or tried to forget). Places she's seen, people she's been, artifacts she's stolen--they all revolve around this sort of comfortableness. This idea of a retirement spent with nothing to fear.
Maggie interrupts her as she sets the mugs down, "Give it time to steep," she drops into the other chair, looking contemplatively at Sophie. "And tell me what's going on."
"You remember the Vatican?"
-
The tale takes longer, with Maggie interrupting for clarification and commentary. Something about Sophie being predictable makes her laugh, the sound right for the still-sunny kitchen. Sophie lets her eyes drift to the window, waiting as Maggie giggles into her second mug of tea, the liquid sloshing a little before she gets control of her hands, sipping.
"You never told Nate," Sophie guesses, watching the golden light in the green grass fade slowly to grey as the sun begins to set.
"It never seemed something he should know." Restless suddenly, Maggie moves to the sink, hands putting more water in the kettle while her mind seems to work. She turns abruptly, water still running and looks at Sophie. "You never told him, either."
"Well, no. As you say, there wasn't..." Sophie trails off and looks at Maggie, half-smiling. "You haven't changed."
"That surprise you?" Setting the kettle on the stove, Maggie turns on the burner. "Do you want Indian for dinner? I was thinking of chicken masala curry and jasmine rice."
Comfort foods. Things that bring back sudden, sharp memories and Sophie wants to jump up and run. But where will she run to? The thought of how ironic this all is doesn't escape her. She could run. She has an island, she has houses, she has money to live on until she's dead and buried. But she's staying. For revenge? For something else?
"Food sounds lovely."
Maggie looks at her, lips twisted into something that isn't a smile, "Don't try turning me up sweet, Jenny--"
"Sophie."
"You did always like the classics."
"And you never knew when to let well enough alone. An honest woman in a city like Rome was a little too hard to resist."
Maggie sits down again and puts her elbows on the table, grinning. It's the impish look she had more than ten years before. "You were never one to waste time."
"Time is fleeting."
"You read that off a Hallmark card."
"Actually, it's Shakespeare." It's Sophie's turn to stand and she moves to the window. The sun has drifted down further, shots of pink and purple tingeing the sky. If they were slightly more southerly, it might turn red. Deep reddish streaks that would look as though the sky were ripped in two.
Maggie's hand touches the small of Sophie's back and her chin settles gently on her shoulder. "Do you like the view? It's no Paris in the springtime."
"I could run, you know. I could walk away and never look back."
Maybe she has to say those words to make them real. Maybe there's only a choice when the world knows the stakes. Or maybe she's just looking for someone else to make the decision for her. Sophie doesn't know. But she doesn't turn and she doesn't shrug away from Maggie.
There's comfort in being held, even if it's been so long that you're both different.
"Has life been so hard for you?" Maggie asks softly.
"It's been hard for you." No question, of course. "Did you know, I was afraid you'd tell him? In the beginning, all I could think was, 'if Maggie utters a word'... but you didn't. And you sealed this deal for us. Why?"
"Sterling asked me to."
And just like that, the stakes change.
Sophie doesn't move, though she knows she stiffens. Sometimes, she can lie with even her body. Right now, she's a little slow on the uptake. "I should have realized who told him."
"He already knew," Maggie says quietly. "Just like he knew that I would say yes."
"Why did you do it? Revenge?"
Maggie laughs again, not moving from where she's leaning against Sophie. "Not really. I've had ten years to think about revenge, and this is never the way I would have gone around with it. No. I did it for Nate."
"Oh, I can see that. The team's split, Nate's whole life is in tatters--"
"It's been in tatters for years, now it's more than simply under the surface."
Sophie has to admit that last is true, and wonders a little what would have happened had Nate stopped drinking months ago. The first David would still be in the museum, and Parker would never have stolen it from her. "Given. Why aren't you calling Sterling and turning me in?"
"For the same reason I authenticated the first David as the second," Maggie replies. "Nate is better than Sterling, he's just a little too drunk to realize it right now."
"Well, maybe once--"
"And I know what IYS refused to do."
The tension in the room is now in Maggie, vibrating through her hands with a strange intensity as though, for just an instant, she would like Blackpoole's neck between her hands. Then she relaxes again, pressing harder against Sophie, her hands sliding around Sophie's waist.
"Nate never..."
"He always did underestimate me."
Sophie deciphers that as her hands absently brush over Maggie's. Their fingers slide together and it's ten years before, the heat of the summer filling their tiny room. Not that they cared about the heat, too intent on each other. Both in a strange little competition until Maggie wins, her lips catching Jenny's cries and swallowing them whole, greedy with her own need to follow.
"You set Sterling up."
"In a way. Your team is different from what he's used to. Sterling uses people then discards them at a whim. Nate..."
"He builds trust." Sophie turns abruptly, hands sliding up Maggie's arms, cupping her face gently. "Could we stop talking about Nate?"
"It's been ten years."
"Yes, it has," says Sophie with no inflection.
Maggie leans closer and Sophie lets her. The kiss is almost chaste, tentative. Both women testing each other until Maggie pulls back. "So what's the plan?"
"There isn't one," Sophie says, feeling confused for a moment.
Kissing Maggie is simpler than trying to sort out what's going on. And maybe Maggie agrees, her hands pulling a bit at Sophie's shirt, nails brushing over the skin there for a moment before she laughs, pulling away to murmur, "You're stealing again, Jenny."
For an instant, that's all right with Sophie. She can be two people at once, she can straddle personalities and memories. Then she shakes her head and catches at Maggie's hands. "Sophie. Jenny died in Greece, thrown under a bus for convenience."
Maggie smiles a little enigmatically, "We all need our excuses."
The moment is lost, then, Sophie letting her walk away. Like she did in Rome, watching the sun set, turning the trees golden for an instant before it was dark and grey. Poetic, surely, but it was apt. "Were you going to order dinner, or should I leave?"
"Dinner."
Right. Dinner, she can handle.
"During dessert, I can tell you my plan. And then you'd better call Nate and the rest of your team. Otherwise, we'll never take Sterling and Blackpoole down."
Maggie looks a little smug when Sophie stares at her, speechless. She stirs her tea, now quite cold, and tilts her head a little. "Just because I was never in charge of Nate's little plans didn't mean I never enjoyed them. And I know all of them better than either of you do, now."
The kettle whistles, breaking Sophie free of her paralysis and she moves to turn it off, pouring the steaming water into the small clay teapot. "Tell me your plan and I'll think about it."
She doesn't need to look out the window again to see the sun fading into grey.
-f-
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This is so lovely. Unexpected and yet so right. Love, love, LOVE it. And you!
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And Maggie, Maggie said something about helping Nate before, and I can't believe that she would just have been there, blindly, and not figured something out (pls show, let her be awesome).
Thank you =)
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Yeah, I really, really want it to turn out that Maggie knows a lot more about what is going on than this ep leads us to believe. Like, maybe at least suspecting that Nate was more than likely pulling a con, and verifying the statue even though it was obvious to her that it wasn't the right one. If she could not be a witless pawn, that would be nice - or at least have it left open for us to fanwank.
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