Number 06 │ A Leverage Fanfiction

The Three Strikes Job | Part 1

The rhythmic beeping of hospital monitors filled the quiet room, the sterile scent of antiseptic lingering in the air. Through the window, the sight of Patrick Bonnano lying unconscious in the hospital bed was almost surreal. Tubes and wires connected him to machines, keeping him stable. Just outside, his wife stood watching him, arms crossed tightly as if holding herself together.

Nate approached carefully, his voice gentle. "Mrs. Bonnano? I'm, uh... I'm Nate Ford. I just heard."

She barely turned, her eyes still locked on her husband. "I already gave my statement."

"No, I—I'm not a policeman," Nate clarified, stepping closer. "I'm in the private sector. Your husband and I are... colleagues."

That got her attention. She turned to look at him fully, studying him with weary eyes. "I appreciate you coming down here, but it's not—" She stopped, realization dawning. "Nate Ford? He talked about you."

Nate blinked. "He did?"

A tired, bittersweet smile ghosted across her lips. "He said you'd helped him with some cases. And, uh... he wanted to buy you a drink." Her expression darkened. "And then arrest you."

Nate huffed a small, knowing chuckle. "I knew he'd figured it out."

The humor, brief as it was, faded quickly. He straightened, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "Listen, I'd really like to help. Can you tell me if there are any leads?"

Mrs. Bonnano shook her head, her fingers gripping the strap of her purse as if holding onto something solid. "No. It was his day off. He said he was gonna run an errand and come right home."

"Was he working on a case?"

She let out a slow breath, shaking her head. "Pat never talked about his cases. I'd ask him what he did today, and he'd open a beer and say, 'Wrote a few tickets.'" Her voice wavered slightly, and she turned back toward the window. "I can't. I'm sorry."

Nate softened. "I'm sorry. Listen, if there's anything I can—"

His words trailed off as his eyes drifted past her, landing on the small figure sitting in the corner of the room. A young boy, no older than ten, sat curled up in one of the waiting chairs. His wide eyes were fixed on the doctors working over his father, his small hands clenched into fists in his lap.

Nate's chest tightened.

Bonnano had been— Is a good man. A rare kind of honest. And now, his son sat there, watching a moment that might change his life forever.

Nate exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening.

This wasn't just a case anymore.

<>

[McRory's Pub]

The warm glow of the bar lights barely cut through the dim haze of whiskey and regret hanging in the air. As I stepped inside, my eyes immediately landed on Nate. He was slouched over the counter, one hand wrapped around a half-empty glass, the other holding his phone up to his ear. His expression was distant, From the speaker, a familiar voice played back in a clipped, automated tone.

Sophie (on voicemail): It's me. Leave a message.

Nate exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand down his face. "Sophie, this is the fourth message. Please call back. The team could really use you on this one. It's just... it was a hospital, and you know— you know me and hospitals, so, uh..."

He trailed off, sighed, then hung up and immediately redialed. As he took another sip of whiskey, the voicemail clicked on again.

Sophie (on voicemail): It's me. Leave a message.