A clinging grey smoke hung low in the dim bar, infusing its patrons with a cloying scent. Akin to cherries and burnt cedar, it was the kind that would stick to your clothes and keep you from smelling or tasting anything else for hours after you'd left. Of course, the pipes the smoke originated from was one of the draws of the place, so no one would complain.
If you weren't indulging in one of the complex glass-water pipe structures people were partaking from, then you were probably there using the smoke as a blind. The place made a perfect dark grotto of nooks and crannies, faces obscured by shadows, haze and mind-altering substances. No one would admit they saw you in a place like this – even if you could clearly recall, it wouldn't be worth the slit your throat or throats would garner if you had the chance to talk about who you saw. Plus, admission would mean that you'd been there too, and were probably just as complicit in some sort of shady dealing.
The beautiful woman, then, went relatively unnoticed, or at least, unmolested and unremarked. She rolled the thick blue glass between her palms slowly, speculatively. It was quite a bit past when they'd agreed to meet. Either her contact was running late, which wouldn't be that surprising, or he'd been nabbed, way more unlikely. Still, it didn't keep her from enumerating the exits again in her head, a precaution that never hurt. When a large hand slid onto her shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze, she sighed from relief, with perhaps a touch of exasperation.
"About time you showed up."
"Sorry, Songbird. I've had a hell of a day. I'd forgotten how difficult it is to wriggle through red tape."
A delicately shaped eyebrow raised at him as he hailed the hulking bartender over with a wink. She couldn't help a bemused smirk. Her friend would never change. Flirting with anyone and everything, and somehow managing to make even the most innocent things sound filthy. That was quite comforting, even with all that had gone before.
"I thought you were trying your hardest to avoid the system, such as it is, these days? What's your deal?"
"Nerbozian Ginger Brew, only one ice drop please, hm?"
The most winning of smiles was employed on the drink dealer before he turned back to his friend, leaning on an elbow as he swiveled to ease their conversation. "It's not this system … well, not our system I'm dealing with right now. Look, this is what I came to talk to you about."
"I'm definitely not getting involved with any system anytime soon, Blue Eyes, for good or ill. I don't care how much sweet talking you care to try on me." She frowned at him as he received his drink, fawning wordlessly over it before he handed the tender his credits card. "I'm trying to fly straight right now, love. Stay under the radar? I can't be caught out again, they'll throw me right back in prison, and I won't do that again. I just won't. As long as I spent last time was half too much."
"Would'ja just listen to me first before you go chucking me out the door, Songbird?"
There was a lazy amusement in his voice that tended to infuriate and ingratiate him with her all at once. Her lips pursed, unsure, and he took that as a signal to continue. He hunkered down a little over his drink, taking a sip to wet his lips, knowing he'd need it.
"Look, I know you're doing the whole 'play by the rules' thing. And I'm sure that's working out for you just fine. But I need some help. Help I know I can only get from you! Depending on how it turns out, it might be more than one job, could be lots. See, I have this thing running … "
Her bright eyes flashed dangerously in warning and he waved his hands, laughing softly, "I promise, I promise, your part in it will get you in no trouble whatsoever. No one need find out you were ever even involved. Even if I did get caught – and, I must add, when have I ever been caught? Your name would never come to the surface. I know who to avoid and who I want to attract, and in this case, I'm looking for choice patsies."
"Somehow, even with all that, I'm still not reassured. Isn't there anyone else who can get what you need?" The blue glass rose and she gulped the refreshing liquid as thought it would be taken away, eyes shifting nervously, as if simply discussing such things would see her back behind bars and thick walls.
"No one with the resources and contacts you have. My last supplier … well, let's just say he had a run in with the authorities that had absolutely nothing to do whatsoever with me, and it landed him someplace he'll never be able to help himself, much less me."
"Aren't you scared you're gonna end up there too someday, Blue?" She said softly, giving him what was probably the first true look of concern anyone had given him in … months? Years? He couldn't ever be certain. Not anymore. "One day - "
"One day I'll have lots and lots of money. I will. I'll have everything I need, and this discussion will hardly be a memory. We can meet in my private penthouse, I'll have someone serve you a drink and I won't be so uncouth as to remind you of this conversation from oh so many years before." His smirk could power half a spaceport.
"You? Are incorrigible." Sighing, she sat back and weighed him with a begrudgingly admirable eye. "So, then, what's this plan? Talking old ladies out of their knickers and reselling them or something?"
"Hardly. How unsanitary would that be? Besides, I could make enough money out of the first, I wouldn't have to follow through to the second." Grinning that irrepressible grin, he winked at her and she had to roll her eyes.
"No, I've got a long con already started. I just need some junk. Untraceable junk. And I need you to help me locate some."
"You need me to find you some junk."
"Yes."
"Untraceable, unmissable junk."
"That's what I said."
For a few moments, the haze between them didn't stir as she studied him.
"Why the hell don't you just grab a big hunk of asteroid and use that?"
"Please, Songbird," Exasperated, he practically collapsed against the bar melodramatically, earning him a stern glance from the massive bartender, which he paid little heed.
"Do you think if it was merely a bit of rock I needed I'd come to someone with such a specific set of skills? No! I need someone with contacts, who knows what's going on in different places, different times, and can shunt me items through a system without raising a flag. And that's you to a 't.'"
"I'm what to a what?" The epithet threw her, and she squinted at him oddly.
"Never mind. Look," Leaning in, his voice got softer as he got closer, not that anyone would mind anything but their own business in this place. "I've 'acquired' a ship, one with a shiny chronological shift drive installed in it, and a gorgeous little tractor beam, among other things. I've run a couple of decent little schemes so far – chuck down a piece of junk, something that looks a little flashier than it actually is. Do it around an event that has cataclysmic or destructive events happening within it - war zones are best, natural disaster's a good second. Pretend the junk's crash was an accident and I was just visiting the time, blending in, when it came along. Get whoever happens along to believe it's worth a ton, convince them to buy it, and exchange the information of where it's located for payment, then let the time period clean up the junk before the buyer figures out it's worthless once I'm out the door. Presto, lots of credits."
"So you've done this already?" It was quite obvious she was still uncertain, but that just made him more resolute, and not a bit less cocky.
"Oh, definitely. Works like a charm, lots of fun for me, to boot. I get to hang out on some backwater little planet, out of the way, a bit outta time, enjoy the culture, the food, and earn some money in the long run."
"And you don't think you'll get caught in the long run? You're dabbling in time streams. We both know what that means." She reached out, touching the paler strip of skin on his wrist and he flinched slightly, pulling his arm away, as if her touch stung. He felt far more bitter about it than she sounded, and he nodded, flicking his head with irritation.
"But I'm smarter than those bastards. You know that. None of the old crew's still there, anyways. Those that didn't get dead or wiped either escaped like you … or 're a mix of both, like me. But still, if there's anyone or anything I fear less, it's the Agency."
There was more to it, of course. Secretly, he wanted to run across the damned chronopolice. It was the reason he'd come up with the scheme in the first place. That they hadn't been the ones to stumble across him yet was just proof that without him and his admittedly mostly unbalanced, slightly psychopathic cohorts, the Time Agency was pretty useless … As well as a lot less fun.
But then, they'd been sacrificed, the greater number of the old crew, because that was what tinkering with minds and time could get you. The myths of Time Lords made everything seem so simple, but they were none of them Lords of any kind. They were simply humanoids with a myriad of motives for 'policing' - or rather more succinctly, screwing with time. When you get in trouble for it and have to flush or cleanse your ranks for fear of public recrimination, you end up self-castrated, a useless, overly cautious shadow of your former self.
They'd murdered, amnesia'd, locked up or outlawed so many people that the left hand didn't know how to talk to the right anymore, they'd haphazardly destroyed so many of the links in between. They'd lost track of stations, the lists of agents and staff were horribly inaccurate, and tapping into their systems showed that they'd had to hack away at hardware and circumvent systems they had no idea how to use anymore. Imagine, killing off the people who know how to do things before you know what they know. Ridiculous. Thoughtless. Served them right, was his opinion.
Which is why the blue-eyed ex-agent was more than confident he could pull the wool over the eyes of any idiot operative that might stumble across him on their rounds.
He didn't have to tell Songbird most of this, of course. She'd been one of them. Even more, she was one of his, and she was one of the few from their ranks acting sane, keeping wise and laying low. Of course, she'd probably have to stay that way for the rest of her life. He couldn't live like that. It went without saying. That wouldn't keep her from worrying about someone she thought of like a brother, though.
"As long as you've got your ass covered, Blue Eyes," She resigned with a sigh. "You know some of ours wouldn't forgive me if I didn't check. Just in case. So. Story, setup, exits noted, escape routes mapped, no sleeping on the job ... "
"Every bit accounted for, m'lady," He smiled wistfully for her concern, unable to help feeling it was a tad wasted on him. None of the others gave two shakes about him, not even the one he knew she particularly had in mind.
"I was just finishing clearing up my cover earlier, which is why I was running late. Had to push through some paperwork, sweet talk a few people … and of course, pick up the coat. Nice, eh?"
She reached out to finger a golden button, unable to keep from smirking at her friend's preening. The man was vain as ever, something that was so utterly him, he obviously couldn't help himself. "Very. It suits you, really. Accentuates those shoulders of yours, and makes your eyes really 'pop.' Not bad at all. You'll have them falling at your feet."
"I always do."
"Of course," She chuckled indulgently. Her fingers caressed her glass absently as she steered the conversation back to his cover. "What's the story, then?"
"Oh, it's a war. Didn't I say? Little planet, pre-contact, pre-outer-atmospheric travel. Planet-wide conflict, lots of struggle everywhere - easy cover for something like this. I've done disaster a few times, too, but this was too good a chance to pass up. Plus, I get to wear this killer uniform! Anyways, I simply found someone who generally fits my profile who was about to die, then got their internal paperwork 'lost,' got him – now me – a transfer to the area I need for the con. Way easier with a nice, big war, by the way, lots of strange and new faces in and out all the time. I just insert myself into the local officer gaggle. There's so much confusion everywhere, no one ever notices."
"Sounds like it," She hummed against the rim of her drink, musing on the picture he was drawing in her mind.
He could tell from the look in her eye that the drink and the smoke were aiding him in his cause, and she was warming to the idea. Of course, he could've done it without any aid, but this bar was a great place to meet, it was near her and it never hurt to have a little chemical help. Songbird was a force to be reckoned with at any capacity, which is why he kept her around.
"Officer in the army, eh? Not a difficult cover, then."
"No, not." The suggestion rolled off him, although it felt like she was trying to sting him. "But I like it, makes it easy to fit into the role."
"On the side of the good guys, I hope?" She grinned, knowing it was a loaded, if stupid question. The smoke and her drink were taking a bit of effect, but at this point she hardly cared. She already knew she'd be giving in. Blue Eyes looked uncertain whether to be injured or amused by the suggestion.
"Of course! I mean, it can be fun the other way around. But I much prefer being the handsome officer, commanding brave men, flying the skies and winning the war for the good guys against incredible odds. And I've never looked good in a mustache, nor good at twirling one evilly. I always fancied myself the hero anyways," He couldn't help chuckling with a silly shrug. "Even the name is heroic. Captain Jack Harkness."
To prove the picture the name and uniform presented, he straightened to his feet, striking as brave and gallant a pose as he could. Filling her role easily, his friend obediently chortled at the figure he cut, making him collapse back in his seat laughing.
"Captain. Jack. Harkness." The last few giggles lingered on her tongue as she stretched each syllable. "Well, if anything, you'll have 'em lining up, that's for certain, handsome. But I have a hard time seeing you as a hero. A rogue, definitely. Never a villain, of course. Unless it's the misunderstood kind that robs from the rich to give to the poor and keep a bit for himself. But a hero, Blue Eyes?"
Pretending her laughter didn't half sting, he chuckled into his drink, "Ah well, a boy can dream, can't he? Maybe a little of Captain Jack'll rub off on me. He was a brave man to his last. At least, according to his paperwork."
"We can only hope," Songbird smiled gently, fondly, looking sideways at her friend. After a few moments she let out a long sigh. "And if not, you can always go off and become someone else and hope they'll make you more like a hero in the long run, yeah?"
He ignored the dig, shrugged carelessly and picked up his glass, watching the ice slide in circles. "Maybe so."
"Well." It was all she could think of to say to break the pause, a little more brightly than she meant it, as the air had become suddenly awkward. "What're we sitting around here for, then? I've got to go find you a piece of untraceable space junk."
"Really, you're gonna do it?" He shot up, surprised and not a bit overjoyed at the news. Grinning ear to ear, he enveloped her in a big, tight hug. Her arms didn't seem to know where to go, and after a few moments, she found herself gently prying him off, laughing at his effervescent overreaction.
"Really, I am," She stressed, straightening herself awkwardly as he struggled to regain his composure and his seat. "Of course, we'll have to arrange how to get in contact when I have the goods. But I have something in mind, and it shouldn't take me very long. Won't matter to you, of course, you'll be playing around in the past."
"Songbird, I'll shunt the credits into your accounts as soon as I hear from you," He was restraining from kissing her, he was so happy. Internally he was doing a jig. It never satisfied him more than when a plan came together solidly, and he knew already that with his friend on board it would go over without a hitch.
Sliding his card from the bar back into his pocket, he took the last slug from his drink and stood, rubbing his hands together. "Well, then. You give the number you have for me a ring when you get news of the goods and we'll take it from there! I'm tellin' ya, this is gonna be great."
"Anything to make you smile, Blue Eyes," Her tone was utter bemusement, enjoying his delight just from her agreeing to go along with the scheme. "I mean, Captain Jack Harkness. I'll give you a call very soon." It was worth saying yes to almost anything to see joy in a face like that, and she knew a good portion of the galaxy would agree with her.
Leaning over her, he gave her a gentle hug and a kiss to the forehead, his smile undimmed as he pulled away. "I look forward to it. Take care of yourself, Song. And if you see that bastard of a friend of yours, kick him in the teeth for me, would you?"
"He was your friend, too. And if he ever gets out of rehab, I will, gorgeous," She laughed, shaking her head. "Take care, Captain." Raising a hand in farewell, she watched him retreat out the portal to the brighter world beyond. The spring in his step threatened never to fade, and that long, dark blue coat billowed impressively out behind as he went, turning not a few heads even in that secretive place.
Giving another bemused laugh, she grinned at the sullen bartender and sipped at the dregs of her drink. The dark creature's growl was part curiosity and part threat, and carried an obvious suggestion to order more or pay her bill that would be considered rude in most any other watering hole in the universe. The way he abused the bartop with the rag in his third hand could possibly even be called coercion.
"What? Put the drink on his tab. He's good for it," She practically growled back with a coy smirk, unmoved. If there was one thing Blue Eyes had taught her, it was that attitude was everything. She only hoped his certainty about this scam was actual certainty, because no matter how confident he came across, there were just some things you can't plan for.