Author's Note:

I own nothing. I make no profit.

This story was written for Mariella in a Secret Santa exchange on AO3. One of her prompts was a crossover with the TV series Lie to Me. Being new at this, I didn't think I had the chops to pull off a real crossover (perhaps someday…sigh) but I did try to work in a little "flavor" from that show and some of those characters make guest appearances.

I plan to publish two chapters a week. There are a total of 9 chapters and an epilogue. Enjoy.

The Fanfic Job

Chapter 1

A light snow fell onto the streets of Boston. It was the type of snow that drifted down lazily in fat flakes that added to the festive holiday air. Though the temperature was low, the wind chill factor was moderate, coaxing hoards of shoppers to brave the weather in hopes of finding last minute gifts. With only a week until Christmas, the pressure was on. Many who were done with their shopping- and others who wished they were- gathered in the warmth of McRorys for drinks and conversation.

Nate tipped his glass and finished his drink in a single smooth gulp. Ignoring Sophie's pointed glare, he gestured to the bartender for a refill before turning his attention back to the young woman seated across the booth from him. She was toying nervously with a glass of white wine, fingering the stem, tapping on the base. Her cheeks were flushed and she was avoiding his gaze. After a minute, she slid the glass of untouched Chardonnay away from her and reached for her purse.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Ford. I apologize for wasting your time. I don't think you can help me."

Nate placed his hand over hers. "Why don't you let us decide that?"

Sophie gave her a warm smile and nodded encouragingly. It was a 10 carat you-can-trust-me smile. Hardison could hack his way into anything, Parker could sneak into any place, and Eliot could bash down anything in his way. But Sophie? Sophie could smile. The keys to the kingdom were hers, whenever she unleashed that smile.

The client paused, settled back into her seat and gave Sophie a brief tentative smile in return. "It's just that…well, you probably won't believe me. The police think I am crazy. Even my friends are skeptical."

"You would be surprised at the tales we have heard," Nate said. "Tell us about it."

Taking a deep breath, she began to speak. "Have you ever heard of a website called Fanfiction?"

After exchanging a brief glance with Sophie, Nate turned towards the bar and gestured to a tall, young black man. Hardison snatched up his laptop and sauntered over to the table. He seated himself, popped open the laptop and typed in his password before looking at Nate questioningly.

"Fanfiction?"

Hardison grinned. "Fanfiction. Yeah. Website where writers can post stories about their favorite TV shows."

Nate turned back to the client. "Go on."

"Well, I write. Just a hobby, you know? Anyway, there is a show I really like. Lie to Me," she paused and looked from Nate to Sophie, both of them looking back with blank expressions. "It's about highly trained doctors who are deception experts. They can tell what a person is feeling and if they are lying just by looking at them. They read something called micro expressions. I…I know this sounds silly."

Nate took a sip of his whiskey to cover his grin. Sophie looked serene. Hardison snorted and said "Aw, hell no. Not silly, 't all. We know all kinds a things 'bout micro expressions."

"Really? Um, okay. Well anyway. I have been writing a fanfic about the Lie to Me characters. And weird stuff has been happening to me. Scary stuff."

"Go on."

"At first, I had some problems with the site. I would post chapters and then the chapters would disappear and I would have to post them all over again. I just thought it was a glitch with the site or maybe with my computer. But then I got an anonymous review on one of my chapters. It threatened me. It said that writing fanfiction could be detrimental to my health. Most of the people on this site are wonderful but occasionally a nut job pops up. I submitted a complaint to the site moderators. The review disappeared immediately, and I assumed the moderators took care of it."

She paused and took her first sip of the wine she had been toying with before continuing.

"But then, more scary reviews turned up. Some were terrifying. One said that I could get a sunburn sitting on that purple chair on my balcony."

"You sunbathe in December?" Hardison asked.

"No. But that isn't the point. The thing is, I do have a purple chair on my balcony. How could he know that? Then it got even creepier. In another review, he described clothing I was wearing that day and said it was a shame that bloodstains would not wash out. I kept emailing the site. The reviews kept disappearing. Finally, someone from the site responded to me. They said they didn't know what I was referring to because there were no scary reviews. It wasn't them! The moderators didn't delete those reviews. How could those reviews just vanish? Even the email notifications about the reviews just disappeared from my laptop. How is that even possible?"

Hardison's fingers were flying across the keyboard. He paused and looked up. "They threatened your cat? Now, that's cold."

"How did you know that?"

"Girl, nuthin' disappears completely from the Internet. Folks think that. They think you can make stuff just go away forever, but that ain't so. You can't just erase information that's out there, unless of course, you're me. Nope. That info is always someplace. Oftentimes, it's someplace that can't actually be found, unless of course, you're me."

At the bar, an attractive blond woman and a muscular long haired man sat watching. Though they spoke quietly, Nate could hear their words in his earbud when they simultaneously muttered "Behold my genius".

Nate cleared his throat. "Hardison. The point?"

Seemingly unaware of the byplay, Hardison continued with his rapid fire keyboard tapping. "He's good, Nate. The hacker. Not as good as me, but good. He encoded those reviews to self-delete as soon as she read them. I got his IP addy, though. Just need a few minutes…"

"So, you believe me?"

"Yes," Nate responded.

"Will you help me?"

"Yes. What else have you not told us, Miss…"

"No. Not Miss anything. If you are going to save my life, we should be on a first name basis. Please. Call me Mariella."

"Mariella," Sophie said softly. "What a lovely name. But you know, I feel as though there may be something else you are not telling us."

Mariella swallowed and looked away. Nothing micro about that expression, Nate thought.

"It's just that, I don't want you to think…I mean, it just sounds so paranoid…maybe I am just being paranoid, but…"

"Mariella."

"Okay. I think that someone has been in my apartment. It's nothing I can prove, but I noticed little things have been moved, drawers not quite closed all the way, stuff like that."

Nate smiled reassuringly. "You have a cat, right?"

"Actually it is my best friend's cat. Frodo. I am just cat-sitting. She and my brother are dating and they are off on vacation.

"Any chance Frodo might be the item-moving culprit?"

"Sure. Maybe for some of the things. But there are other things he could not have reached and he couldn't have opened drawers."

"Do you live alone?"

"No, I moved in with my boyfriend, but he is away for the holidays. We just got the apartment last month, and had to pay first, last and security. We didn't have enough money left for us both to go away for the holidays." Mariella's words trailed off and she hung her head. "I know what you are thinking. Boyfriend, best friend, brother- all away. Single girl home alone and imagining things. You could be right. My boyfriend put brand new expensive locks on the doors and windows. There is just no way anyone could have gotten in, so I guess I really am crazy."

Nate glanced at Parker, who was still sitting at the bar but was listening intently. The lights over the bar made her dangling candy cane earrings sparkle. At a quick nod from Nate, Parker eased off the barstool and headed out the door. Hardison was already texting her the address.

"Tell us more about the story you are writing."

"Oh. Well, it is about a guy who robs a bank without the bank knowing it was robbed."

Nate grimaced though Hardison and Sophie grinned when Parker's squeal came through their earbuds. "Ooo, cool!, Tell her to speak up. I want to hear all about that!" At the bar, Eliot growled and rolled his eyes.

Unaware of all this, Mariella continued her narrative with enthusiasm. "You see, the guy poses as a facility manager. You know, like a management company that takes care of things like repairs and cleaning and electrical bills? But this guy is actually a really talented hacker. One of his biggest accounts is a bank. He can hack stuff like the meters that measure how much heat and electricity the bank is using, and he makes it look like they used much more than they did. Then, after the bill comes, he hacks the utility companies and changes everything back. He pays the real amount but he has a paper trail to show the bank that the bill was higher and he keeps the difference. He does that for everything- the utilities, housekeeping, landscaping, plowing the parking lot in the winter…all kinds of things. He robs the bank every month and they have no idea. Or at least not until the bank manager gets suspicious and hires The Lightman Group to investigate all the employees."

A soft ping from Hardison's laptop, followed by his whispered "Gotcha" attracts Nate's attention. Hardison slides the laptop around so Nate can read the screen.

"Mariella, do you know a man named Scott Wilde?"

"No, I don't think so."

Nate turned the screen and showed her the picture. "This man?"

"Yeah, that's one of my ex-boyfriends. But his name isn't Scott. His name is Ken Gray."

"What does he do for a living?"

"I haven't seen him in years, but back then he was a bank manager. We only dated for a few months. He was a little intense."

"Actually," Hardison said, "Dude's name is Scott Wilde and he runs SJW Management Company. As far as I can see, and I can see far, mama, he ain't never been a bank manager."

Nate pursed his lips in thought for a few moments before making eye contact with his confused client.

"Mariella? Where exactly did you get the idea for your story?"

"Oh. Oh, crap. Ken told me. He said it happened in his bank and he was the one to spot the scam."