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The bar was dingy. That was the word to describe it. John rolled it around in his head as he looked at the dim lighting shielded by nicotine-stained shades and the grubby wallpaper that a thousand drunks had stumbled against. The carpet had probably been red at some point but was well into being a brownish burgundy now. The seats were threadbare, the brass smudged with years of finger marks and the tables chipped and sticky.
The beer was okay though, which was really the only important thing as far as John was concerned. The company wasn’t bad either, although on the moody side today. That was better than the intense grief of some past days though, so he’d take it. It wasn’t as if John was always the best conversational partner, which meant he had no right to complain about his friend being less than chatty today.
One of the reasons that John had picked this place was that no one would ever expect to find a time traveller having a quick drink with a warlock in a booth in the corner furthest from the door. However, they had still both positioned themselves with a good view of the door, because who knew what might enter and it was good to be ready.
“So, what have they done now?” asked Rip, leaning back and picking at the edge of the leather on the top of the bench.
“It’s less what they’ve done and more where they’ve done it. Sara’s taken them all to the 1920s to try to do away with this idiot called Bishop. She’s got some kind of plan to do with mushrooms.”
“Mushrooms?” asked Rip, disbelief in his voice.
“Mushrooms,” confirmed John.
“She probably has a reason,” said Rip, frowning.
“Not sure she does,” replied John.
“She’s a better Captain than I’ll ever be,” said Rip, staring into his beer.
At least he’d gone for beer not whisky or rum. It would have been a bad sign if he’d started on the hard stuff. John still rolled his eyes at the statement from his friend.
“Like hell she is,” he replied. “She’s more fun than you were for sure, but we both know this gig isn’t about having fun.”
“She pulled the Legends together into a team that actually worked,” said Rip.
“Have you been paying attention? At all?” asked John. “It worked for all of ten minutes and then they were back to bickering and doing their own thing. It might have been okay if you hadn’t gone and blown yourself up with a glowy time thing again, but Sara and Sharpey… nah, never going to work in a month of Sundays. That’s why I’m here, ain’t it?”
“Why did you want to meet? You could have just sent me a message in the usual way. Zed and Chase are quite capable of passing them on.”
“I left,” said John, perhaps more abruptly than he’d intended. “I thought you should know that I’m not keeping an eye on your misfits anymore.”
That got Rip’s attention.
“You left Gideon alone with them?”
“Gideon’s fine,” replied John, taking a long sip of his beer. “Time may not be, but honestly I couldn’t take it anymore.”
“You promised me…”
“I did no such thing,” said John. “You’re the one that buggered off and pretended to be dead.”
“They didn’t want me there,” replied Rip.
“You didn’t want to be there, you mean,” said John.
“It’s my ship, of course I want to be there,” said Rip.
“Just not with them,” said John.
“Just not with them,” agreed Rip, with a sigh.
“So, Sara’s definitely not the best captain then, is she? Even if you did pick her and the team. Perhaps it’s time to admit that this little experiment was a mistake.”
Rip gave John an annoyed look and then gave in.
“They’re just so slap dash,” said Rip, with a gesture at the air. “I can’t bear it. I honestly thought they’d improve if I gave them some responsibility and I wasn’t looking over their shoulder the entire time.”
“When are you going to get your ship back then? It’s well past time,” said John.
“You have rather forced my hand by leaving. At least with both you and Gideon on board I could keep an eye on things. I can’t really let them carry on without supervision, such as it was.”
“What are you saying? I’ve kept them from making some huge mistakes,” replied John, indignantly.
“And managed to make a few of your own by all accounts,” said Rip.
“Damn it, I knew I couldn’t trust your robot girlfriend,” said John.
“She is not my “robot girlfriend”! I hope you didn’t say that in front of her. You’d be showering in ice water for the next month,” said Rip.
“Hey, I’m not stupid,” said John. “Anyway, are we going to get your ship back or what?”
“Are you offering your help?”
“Sure, why not. I’ve got nothing better to do,” said John.
“We should finish our drinks first,” said Rip. “We have time.”
“Oh yeah “a Time Master is always on time”,” mimicked John, and downed his beer in a series of gulps.
“Is there a reason that we’re still friends?” said Rip, also taking several gulps of his beer. “It feels like you spend most of your time poking fun.”
“Me? It’s affectionate ribbing, mate,” said John. “Do you want another?”
He didn’t wait for confirmation and headed over to the bar to order another round. He returned with two more pints and a couple of whiskeys.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” asked Rip, eyeing the additional drinks.
“Dutch courage,” said John.
“Why is it that you always lead me astray whenever we’re together?”
“Because you let me and secretly enjoy it,” said John. “Drink up.”
Rip seemed to allow himself the smallest of smiles and then finished his first pint and started in on the second.
“Do you have a plan for how you’re going to get the ship back?” asked John.
“Of course, ever since I left,” said Rip, “but realistically, she’s always been my ship. I’m just taking back what is mine.”
“So, one of your codes then. What was that one you used last time? Treacle Jubilee Asshat?”
Rip gave John a very long suffering look.
“I believe it was Silver Broken Tiger,” he replied holding up a finger. “And you may mock, but I didn’t see you complaining at the time.”
John gave him a slight lopsided shrug and a smirk.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s all very clever.”
“The Legends won’t want to leave,” said Rip. “I think our best bet is to render them unconscious and then offload them at a safe location.”
“Didn’t you once tell me that there is no safe way to render a person unconscious, possibly whilst spoiling my fun with some drugs?”
“I may have,” said Rip, suddenly very interested in his beer. “But maybe you could use a sleeping spell instead.”
“Best Captain Sara will see that a mile off. She’s gotten good at spotting my subterfuge. Drink your beer and then we’ll see if we can come up with something better.”
John didn’t complain when Rip bought the next pint and more shots of whiskey. Rip didn’t complain when John bought the following round. Neither of them were in any state to complain when they stumbled to the bar and somehow were allowed to buy another two shots of whiskey. They propped each other up as they left the bar, slurring about their plans to deal with returning to the Waverider as they stumbled into the cold night air of the London street.
John could feel the way winter tried to sober him up, but he’d had way too much alcohol for even the cold to do the trick. He swayed, his arm linked through Rip’s as they walked.
“I don’t think we can do the Waverider thing t’nigh’,” slurred Rip.
“Going to have to be t’mrrow now,” said John, in agreement. “Drunk spell castin’ isn’t a great idea. Look what happen t’ Chas.”
“Yeah, tomo…tomorr… tomorrow,” said Rip, getting it on the third try. “Your place or mine?”
“Well, mine’sinanother country righ’ now,” replied John, slurring, then tripping over his own feet and bumping into the wall beside him.
“Mine’s a time ship and not… well, still not mine again,” said Rip, sadly.
“Oh fuck no, you don’ get to be sad,” said John. “Les’ get us a hotel. We’ll fix this in the mornin’”
“Yeah,” said Rip, and leaned against John, who leaned back against him. “In the mornin’!”
“Oh for heaven’s sake!” said a voice from behind them.
Both men turned around to see a dark haired woman in a black leather jacket, black jeans and a grey low-cut top. She held what appeared to be a replica of Rip’s gun.
“Gideon?” asked Rip, and then added more loudly and brightly, “Gideon!”
“Mr Constantine, I believe I asked you to do one thing and that was to get Captain Hunter back to the Waverider,” said the woman, apparently Gideon. “I said nothing about getting both you and him drunk.”
“Yes, love,” said John. “Leather suits you. I had no idea you’d look that good in the flesh. How did that happen then?”
Rip rolled his eyes.
“Stop flirting with my robot girlfriend,” said Rip, crossly, and then quickly put a hand over his mouth.
John laughed at his look of horror.
“He called you his girlfriend! He told me off earlier for that!”
“Robot…” added Rip, very quietly. “Not robot. She is my girlfriend. Sort of. I’m sorry… It just sort of came out. It was all John’s fault and I miss you.”
“Hey!” interjected John.
“Luckily I understand that being inebriated can lead to unguarded outbursts and the incorrect use of language,” said Gideon, holstering her sidearm at her hip. “Come on, we’ve got to get back to the Waverider. I’ve kicked the Legends out and we have work to do.”
Rip and John looked at each other.
“She kicked the Legends out…” said John.
“Just like that…” said Rip. “No codes, no planning.”
“Do you know, I think we might both have been wrong about the best Captain thing,” said John.
Rip nodded, and then they both looked at Gideon and spoke at once.
“Gideon’s the best captain.”
Gideon grinned, and then tapped the buttons on the Time Courier on her wrist. A portal outlined in light opened up and on the other side the Waverider’s interior could be seen.
“This way, gentlemen,” she said, and strode through the portal.
John shrugged and followed, dragging a rather wobbly Rip after him.