by Captain Sammitch and TheTimeTrust
"Grissom."
The mercenary turned and nodded to Phil Smith, who came up to the bar next to him. "Evenin'," Grissom Montag said. "Nice to see you out and about for a change."
Phil shrugged. "Time for a change, I guess."
"Proving once again," Griss said jokingly, "that you don't need an identity to have personality."
Phil chuckled. "I guess not." He looked around. "You had quite an entourage going earlier," he said. "Looked like fun."
"Just came over here to take a break," Montag said. "It's hard to think straight when you have gorgeous women all over you."
Phil smirked. "I wouldn't know, but I'm sure you don't mind very much at all."
Grissom sighed. "They ran off to watch the drinking contest."
"Which Wulf won."
"Naturally," the Brit said. "So, how are things going with you and Leslie?"
Phil looked down. "They're not, really."
Grissom raised an eyebrow. "You two looked like quite the pair when you made that little entrance together earlier."
"Yeah," Phil admitted. "Thanks for the help, by the way."
"Anytime," Grissom said. "You can pay me for the flash-bang grenades later, but the teleportation is on the house, as per usual." He ordered a pint from the bartender. "But there really isn't anything going on between the two of you?"
Phil sighed. "I really don't know. I mean, I'm crazy about her, and it seems that she likes me, but... I don't know. It's just not a good time."
"As opposed to during Hurricane Jason?" Grissom challenged him. "I don't see anything wrong with letting things happen." He smiled at a pretty Hispanic waitress who walked by.
Phil nodded. "Maybe you're right." He smiled at the waitress and did a double-take as she walked off. Impossible.
Griss wasn't paying attention. "Personally, Mr. Smith," he said slyly, "I think it's high time you tossed your inhibitions to the wind and just make love to her like she's been dying for you to." He turned. "You all right, mate?"
Phil's face paled. "I... I don't know."
Grissom chuckled. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I... think... I have," Phil stammered.
"That waitress -- you know her?" Grissom asked. "I've never seen her before. I didn't even know she worked here."
"She's..." Phil shook his head. Don't kid yourself. "Sorry. She just reminded me an awful lot of someone." He smiled. "I'm all right. Now, where's Leslie?"
"Sitting over there talking to Shirley and Mick," Grissom said. "I didn't see them come in, actually. You may not have to worry about some bloke runnin' off with her -- the gents seem rather taken with Jackie and her friend over there."
"That's all right," Phil said. "Jackie's cute, and her friend's nice-looking too, and they're certainly entitled to have guys around them. But me? My mind's made up." He started to leave. "Hey, I'll be there tomorrow to give you a hand with the new security implements, if you need it."
"I think I've got it handled," the mercenary said, "but I could sure use a hand with some other stuff."
"I figured as much," Phil said. "So I figured I'd go ahead and move back into my room up there, since it was on the side that wasn't hit as hard. Leslie wants to tag along, if that's okay."
Grissom shrugged. "Let her. It's no trouble." The bartender handed him his drink. "Thanks for the help," Grissom said. "Now get over there and talk to the girl!"
Phil laughed. "That's an affirmative, Griss. I'm on it."
"Knock-knock..."
Chance looked up to see a silhouette in the doorframe, a very feminine silhouette. "Charlize?"
"Hey, Chance... Grissom said he hadn't seen you at the party all night... and that you're missing all the fun cooped up with all these books," Charley Montoya said with a smile. "He thought I might have some luck in tempting you there myself."
"He couldn't have picked a better person," Chance said, laughing.
"So are you coming, or not? It's getting pretty close to midnight already."
"Sure..." he replied, setting his book down and grabbing a light coat, "...but I was thinking of going outside for a bit of fresh air before I join the others. The air is kind of musty in here."
"I don't blame you. Whoever came up with the idea of relocating to a fish factory should be shot."
"Shall we?" Chance said, opening the door to the outside for her.
They stepped outside and began walking among the old cobblestone roads built more than two hundred years ago.
"You smell lovely," he said.
Charley laughed. "Well, anything would smell better than that place back there."
"No, I mean it. You smell very nice tonight. And you look very pretty in that dress. I guess I've gotten so used to you wearing old jeans and T-shirts, not to mention that baseball cap, all the time, that I'd almost forgotten how pretty you are."
She didn't say anything at first, but just smiled and continued walking. A group of little kids ran by holding streamers that glinted in the moonlight. She shivered. "Mm. It's a bit chilly out here."
"It's that sea air," Chance said. "Keeps the temperatures fairly mild. Here, you can have my jacket; I don't need it."
"Thank you, Kris," she said, putting the jacket on over her dress. "As you can probably tell, I'm not used to wearing dresses very much. I was always a bit of a tom boy, to tell you the truth."
"Never would have guessed," Chance said grinning. "So... California!"
"Yep. Good old California. Ever been there?"
"Only once, while I was in university. Backpacked across America back in... what was it again? I think it was '94 or '95. I have some second cousins who live in America, some in Minneapolis and a couple in Oregon. Anyway, yeah, I went all the way down the coast that summer. Some people taught me how to surf, though it wasn't hard. I used to snowboard a lot."
"Yeah, you're from the land of snow, aren't you?"
"Well, the land of skiing, at any rate. Though I always preferred snowboarding. More of a challenge."
There was a pregnant pause in the air before Charley spoke again. "Chance, there was something I wanted to ask you..."
"Sure... anything."
"I've heard a rumor that's been going on about you."
"Oh?"
"I probably shouldn't say anything about this, but... the rumor is that you're in love with Shirley."
"What?"
"I mean, I don't necessarily believe it, but people are talking about this..."
"Really? Which people in particular?"
"Oh, just... people. I don't think Mick or Shirley have heard it yet, but it's possible."
"Hm."
"Is it true?"
"Well..." Chance thought about it for a moment. "No. No, it's not true. At least, not technically..."
"'Not technically'? That's some qualifier."
"I don't know if anyone's mentioned this to you yet, but... I come from a different timeline, almost a parallel universe. In that timeline, Shirley and I are... were... an item. But as it was once said, 'that was in another country, and besides, the wench is dead'..."
"Always hated that line."
"Sorry. But the rumors are false. Although this Shirley seems very much like my Shirley, she's not. The two of us have not gone through all the experiences that made my Shirley... my Shirley. The Shirley you know is Mick's, period. That means hands off."
"Hmm... interesting. I notice you say my Shirley. You're obviously still in love with her, then? The Shirley of... your timeline?"
Chance was silent once more for a few moments. "I'm... not sure. I... I really don't know how to answer that."
"Kris, you don't have to, I..."
"We should probably be getting back."
Chance and Charley walked back to the Fish Factory in silence.