"Hey," he said, and she half-waited for her new nickname out of his mouth, but it didn't come. His smile was hesitant, his blue eyes behind those glasses were wide. Liv wasn't fooled by either, not any longer. This Lincoln had a softer touch, but his handle on her was just as good. Maybe better, and how was that for disconcerting?
"What are you doing here?" She turned fully on her barstool and gave him a smirk, her stance perfectly at ease. "Leash elongated?"
His mouth did a rueful little move that she'd never seen before -- great to watch before she realized this wasn't an old dog new trick situation. This doggie was brand-new and keen.
"Your earpiece sets for us are still being processed; something about re-routing circuits as to prevent listening in on any channel not the Joined Network."
"So you contacted me directly. How analog of you."
He laughed, glancing down for a moment, and there was even a hint of color in his cheeks. How a man like him had made it to field agent, let alone another universe was a mystery to her. But then again, the other side clearly had different ideas about recruiting for Fringe Division, that prodigal son of Secretary Bishop yet another point in case.
Eventually, of course, even this Lincoln looked up again, and around Jeff's. The interior designer could have stuck to one style, Liv presumed, but she had no deep-seated opinion on mixing dry stone hut elements with US sports-bar paraphernalia. "I could ask you the same thing, by the way. I thought you didn't drink?"
Her turn to laugh. "You read my case-file."
"Cover to cover." He opened his mouth, then closed it again rather resolutely. "May I sit down?"
She raised one slow eyebrow but motioned him to take the stool next to her. This was bound to be interesting, if nothing else. Behind them, the bartender who doubled as the eponymous owner of the bar gave them the twice-over, which Liv was taking as confirmation it wasn't just her: This version of Lincoln Lee did seem more suited for file folders than fringe events.
And yet. The back of her neck was prickling. He studied her glass of Dark Joey -- half-full, by the way -- for a moment. "Well, for a non-alcoholic drink, this one looks sufficiently bad-ass."
This time her grin was organically grown, slap-a-green-sticker-on-it-and-raise-the-price. "So they say on tv. Can I get you a drink? One considered real, or are you still on the job?"
"No, I'm -- okay, there's the official version and an official question." Liv didn't miss that measuring look, very brief but there. Clever pup. "But I just wanted to talk to you."
Right. Liv rolled her shoulders, tossed her hair, and deftly caught Jeff's eyes. "A beer for him. Something locally brewed; he's a visitor."
His drink down in front of him, Lincoln gave her a smile that was nothing but sweet, and here, finally, she could see glimpses of her own Lincoln in him. Only this one didn't even pretend to be a confident man of the world. Which really seemed the wiser choice. "Thanks." He took a long sip. Liv watched him lick the foam off his lips. The clean line of his neck and shoulders should have been as familiar to her as her own reflection. It should have been.
No doubt this was another tactic of his, letting her talk instead of him, but Liv didn't mind steering herself when the situation called for it. "If it's about any double-date ideas of yours, I'm out; we're not actually twins after all. Take it up with her."
Lincoln managed to swallow his current mouthful but not the cough that followed. Liv in turn managed not to grin too dirtily.
He put his glass down and drew a slow finger across the wet rim once, making it hum. The lager (or whatever it was) obviously held all the secrets of all universes, judging from his concentrated stare. "She's meeting with Peter, again. Something about the Machine; he convincingly explained that she too had a part in it, could control it." The small frown on his face deepened. "Could being the operative word; in his time-line Olivia supposedly had superpowers."
But of course she had. Liv pushed down whatever she was totally not feeling there and waved a dismissive hand. "So they're discussing the final goal of him going home. Sounds reasonable to me, and yes, almost certainly to her."
"Reasonable. Sure." He met her eyes then. "Just, also emotional. I've been there; with them, and it's -- ever since Jones, they've been spending a lot of time together. With every meeting Olivia is less...uncomfortable. Less stand-offish."
Now that was something to marvel at, indeed. But yeah, perhaps this Lincoln had a point. Also, a problem. "You're jealous." She wasn't following the saga of the alternate timeline too closely, but it didn't take any background check to see that Peter Bishop had a history with Olivia, and even vice versa there was just -- something.
"I am." She had to lean in to properly understand him, but he blinked, focusing fully on her. "I don't want to be. Red, I like Peter; I...I obviously like Olivia."
Fair enough, if not to understandable regarding the object of his affection. "I get it; I just don't get why we're talking about this."
"For starters, my therapist is not well-versed in alternate time-lines, different universes, and the complications these bring to our...relationships." Liv had to double-check, but yeah, that hint of a smile meant he'd made a joke. She wasn't sure whether to smile back, but it wouldn't have been hard, at all, with an expression as inviting as his. "Maybe I did think you could help."
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timeasmymeasure
one night to be confused (Amberverse, Red!Olivia/Blue!Lincoln), 1/2
Date: 2012-01-22 07:53 pm (UTC)"What are you doing here?" She turned fully on her barstool and gave him a smirk, her stance perfectly at ease. "Leash elongated?"
His mouth did a rueful little move that she'd never seen before -- great to watch before she realized this wasn't an old dog new trick situation. This doggie was brand-new and keen.
"Your earpiece sets for us are still being processed; something about re-routing circuits as to prevent listening in on any channel not the Joined Network."
"So you contacted me directly. How analog of you."
He laughed, glancing down for a moment, and there was even a hint of color in his cheeks. How a man like him had made it to field agent, let alone another universe was a mystery to her. But then again, the other side clearly had different ideas about recruiting for Fringe Division, that prodigal son of Secretary Bishop yet another point in case.
Eventually, of course, even this Lincoln looked up again, and around Jeff's. The interior designer could have stuck to one style, Liv presumed, but she had no deep-seated opinion on mixing dry stone hut elements with US sports-bar paraphernalia. "I could ask you the same thing, by the way. I thought you didn't drink?"
Her turn to laugh. "You read my case-file."
"Cover to cover." He opened his mouth, then closed it again rather resolutely. "May I sit down?"
She raised one slow eyebrow but motioned him to take the stool next to her. This was bound to be interesting, if nothing else. Behind them, the bartender who doubled as the eponymous owner of the bar gave them the twice-over, which Liv was taking as confirmation it wasn't just her: This version of Lincoln Lee did seem more suited for file folders than fringe events.
And yet. The back of her neck was prickling. He studied her glass of Dark Joey -- half-full, by the way -- for a moment. "Well, for a non-alcoholic drink, this one looks sufficiently bad-ass."
This time her grin was organically grown, slap-a-green-sticker-on-it-and-raise-the-price. "So they say on tv. Can I get you a drink? One considered real, or are you still on the job?"
"No, I'm -- okay, there's the official version and an official question." Liv didn't miss that measuring look, very brief but there. Clever pup. "But I just wanted to talk to you."
Right. Liv rolled her shoulders, tossed her hair, and deftly caught Jeff's eyes. "A beer for him. Something locally brewed; he's a visitor."
His drink down in front of him, Lincoln gave her a smile that was nothing but sweet, and here, finally, she could see glimpses of her own Lincoln in him. Only this one didn't even pretend to be a confident man of the world. Which really seemed the wiser choice. "Thanks." He took a long sip. Liv watched him lick the foam off his lips. The clean line of his neck and shoulders should have been as familiar to her as her own reflection. It should have been.
No doubt this was another tactic of his, letting her talk instead of him, but Liv didn't mind steering herself when the situation called for it. "If it's about any double-date ideas of yours, I'm out; we're not actually twins after all. Take it up with her."
Lincoln managed to swallow his current mouthful but not the cough that followed. Liv in turn managed not to grin too dirtily.
He put his glass down and drew a slow finger across the wet rim once, making it hum. The lager (or whatever it was) obviously held all the secrets of all universes, judging from his concentrated stare. "She's meeting with Peter, again. Something about the Machine; he convincingly explained that she too had a part in it, could control it." The small frown on his face deepened. "Could being the operative word; in his time-line Olivia supposedly had superpowers."
But of course she had. Liv pushed down whatever she was totally not feeling there and waved a dismissive hand. "So they're discussing the final goal of him going home. Sounds reasonable to me, and yes, almost certainly to her."
"Reasonable. Sure." He met her eyes then. "Just, also emotional. I've been there; with them, and it's -- ever since Jones, they've been spending a lot of time together. With every meeting Olivia is less...uncomfortable. Less stand-offish."
Now that was something to marvel at, indeed. But yeah, perhaps this Lincoln had a point. Also, a problem. "You're jealous." She wasn't following the saga of the alternate timeline too closely, but it didn't take any background check to see that Peter Bishop had a history with Olivia, and even vice versa there was just -- something.
"I am." She had to lean in to properly understand him, but he blinked, focusing fully on her. "I don't want to be. Red, I like Peter; I...I obviously like Olivia."
Fair enough, if not to understandable regarding the object of his affection. "I get it; I just don't get why we're talking about this."
"For starters, my therapist is not well-versed in alternate time-lines, different universes, and the complications these bring to our...relationships." Liv had to double-check, but yeah, that hint of a smile meant he'd made a joke. She wasn't sure whether to smile back, but it wouldn't have been hard, at all, with an expression as inviting as his. "Maybe I did think you could help."
/Part One
(tbc)