Missed Connections (33 page)

"Who was this guy?" then an image accompanied by a name suddenly popped in Tony’s head. "No. Him?" he asked, incredulous.

There had been a big scandal about the murder of a man working as an intermediary between kids on the streets and authorities close to a decade ago, maybe nine or eight years. Tony had kind of missed what the big fuss was about because he had been close to eighteen at the time and had been trying to have some stuff waiting for him when he made his 'escape'. Translated into getting a shoebox apartment in a building close to a subway station and some cash.

"Mr. Aaron Danvers," Paul voiced with the inflections of a talk show host.

"Damn. Totally changed… actually, I didn't have an opinion on him, precisely. Seriously convinced me now that the dude was scum," Tony said with conviction. "Wait, so what kind of criminal are you?"

"Fixer. I do a bit of everything, persuade a guy to say 'yes' when it's beneficial to a certain party, mediate some agreement between mob families, arrange for somebody to get the crew they want, find a thief a job to fit their skills, odds and ends. Negotiation, mostly. Keeps my hands clean." Paul lifted a shoulder in a shrug.

"I sort of get where all the murders in self defense come from. You didn't merely need to stop whoever was attacking you. You had to make an example out of them, ensure nobody will try again." When Paul hummed, Tony went on, "I guess you must know all the best people in the business."

Paul chuckled. "Not all. I somehow missed you," he gestured toward the door, his comment making Tony's neck feel hot. "What's your handle?" Paul asked.

"Ghost," Tony said simply.

When no further comment came from his companion, Tony lifted the phone slightly so he could see him. Pretty blue eyes wide, Paul was studying Tony, trying to judge if he was telling the truth.

"Seriously?" Paul finally exploded. "Nobody could find you, man. I had to smooth talk like fifty people who wanted you."

Tony felt a pang of guilt at that, even though he couldn't have known. "I hope nobody tried to kill you over me," he said in slightly shaky voice.

Paul hand came up again to pat his arm, his aim improving now that he wasn't in hysterics. "No, they are all cowards, but these were specifically white collar. Not many connections to hired guns. They mostly wanted to steal from their enemies virtually and/or to destroy them. I made the pitch that the hacker I had access to at the time could do as good a job as any. Maybe not as elegant, but still untraceable."  

Relaxing a bit, Tony asked curiously, "Who did you work with?"

"Satan's son."

Tony stopped, outraged, "That moron?"

"Okay, okay settle down," Paul said, amusement bubbling in his voice. "Before saying he doesn't have the cleanest Linux configuration or that his code was written backwards,  keep in mind that he's the second best at this thing and," his hand moved to Tony's chin, closing his mouth that had opened in indignation, "I couldn't find you." He then stared at Tony. "Don't pout," Paul sounded strained, like he accidentally made a kid cry and he was desperate to fix it.

"It would've been cool if his code were backwards," Tony finally said in a small voice. "Would that even work?"

Paul face morphed into a grin. His hand reached out to painlessly tangle in Tony's hair, "Gave you something to think about, huh?"

Tony would have shaken his head, but that would mean dislodging Paul's hand. "Yeah, later. I'll have lots of time to think about that. But first, we have to get you out of here. There," he pronounced victoriously, "all done."

Paul seemed confused. "What? You're not coming with me?"

Tony blinked. "No."

The next thing Tony knew he had a lapful of pissed off Russian fixer, knees cradling Tony's thighs, taking Paul's weight where they were planted on the bed, one hand tangled in Tony's wild curls and the other supporting his chin, making him meet those arctic eyes.

Paul’s hands were shaking. "You have to come with me. I'm not leaving here without you."

To say that the words worried Tony would be an understatement. "You don't understand. You have to go," he said desperately, "you just have to. I owe you."

"No, you don't understand." Paul appeared to consider something. "You are my conscience. I didn't have someone to teach me about morals. What's good and what's bad, those are just words to me, meaningless, so when I make a decision, I just think about you. If it was something that would make you sad, I wouldn't do it. Simple, right?" he paused. "What kind of man would I be, if after somehow finding you, I'd leave you in jail?"

Tony was speechless.

Paul was smiling slightly and gently brought his hand form where it was supporting Tony's chin, to cup his cheek. "Come with me," he whispered. He then leaned forward, closed the distance between them, not that there was much of it to cross, and gave Tony a gentle kiss. It was more of a brush of lips upon lips. He pushed himself back a few inches and repeated, "Come with me."

"Having another person as your conscience is not very healthy," was all the resistance Tony could come up with.

Paul chuckled, his breath smelling of bitter dark coffee wafting over Tony's face, making him long to chase it back to full pink lips. "I didn't have the healthiest life. I think I did okay, considering."

"I think you did okay too," Tony echoed.

It didn't even occur to Tony that he could take advantage of the opportunity to escape himself. He was so concentrated on opening the doors, both figurative and literal, for Paul that Tony didn't even stop to think about what that could mean for him. No, to be fair, he did think about the consequences of his actions, how much worse things would get for him, but he had accepted those and moved on. He didn't think of the other side of the coin, the good things that could come to be. Escaping, for example, which just this morning would have been the first thing he thought about. But that was before Paul. And now, that the chance to escape with him presented itself, how could he refuse?

Tony darted forward and stole a kiss. "Yes, I'll come with you."

Paul gave a beaming smile, moving his other hand to tangle in his hair, using both of them to apply the slightest bit of pressure on Tony's skull. Paul licked at the seam of Tony’s lips once, twice, until Paul’s tongue found its way into Tony's mouth and once there Paul simply devoured Tony. The passion, the heat, the alternate way Paul kept kissing savagely and biting gently drove Tony mad. He tried his best to keep up for a while, until he gave up and just let himself be kissed.

"Good," Paul whispered.

Tony barely heard Paul's comment before leaning forward and kissing him deeply, taking his time. Tony saw it as a continuous give and take between them. A sort of back and forth, where they had one another's back where they saved each other constantly. And he realized he had never had that, not really. He was almost certain Paul hadn't had it either. Brave new world, for both of them.

*~*~*

Paul breathed in from where he was curled around Tony's body, his forehead resting on Tony’s shoulder. He could feel Tony's lips curling into a smile next to Paul’s temple and Paul closed his eyes. It was fine, everything was fine, Tony was coming with him, Paul could relax.

"What's the plan?" Paul asked, eyes still firmly shut.

"It's complicated," was Tony's answer.

Paul opened his eyes and blinked. That sounded familiar. He rocked back a bit, digging his heels in the mattress. He gave Tony an unimpressed stare.

"I wasn't asking for your relationship status."

Tony smiled cheekily, "That one is simple." He leaned forward, stealing a kiss. At least, Paul thought that was the original plan, but Paul chased Tony mouth and made it a deep, thorough kiss.

"The plan?" Paul whispered in Tony's ear before kissing his earlobe.

Paul retreated, back to what was fast becoming his favorite pastime: watching Tony's face. Paul basked in the slightly dazed look on Tony's face. It was currently rated second in his order of preference, after that amazing soundless laugh that Paul had only ever heard Tony produce. It would have been awkward on another person, but on him it wasn't. It was like Paul could read the sound off of Tony's beaming expression.

"You know you don't have to whisper. The cameras don't have audio. And the video is looped. Pieced together footage of us talking. They won't see the live feed until I want them to see it," Tony explained.

Paul lightly chuckled, "I know. Well, not about the video, but I didn't hear anything from the screens when I lifted the phone." He stroked a hand gently though Tony's hair. He was acting like he had been touch-starved all his life. Which would be a correct point, but it was more than that. He found Tony to be unnaturally addictive. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have said my name or anything else, really."

Tony shrugged, unrepentant, "As long as you have the right reason for doing it."

"Flirting in the middle of an escape plan qualifies as a good reason?" Paul challenged.

"Are you crazy?" Tony seemed to be swallowing his laughter. "There's no better reason."

Paul let the silence do the asking for him. Tony sighed.

"I haven't figured it all out yet, but I think I have enough to just wing it?" Tony appeared displeased.

"Which wouldn't, by any chance, be why you were buying time to think of something," Paul said while he pushed himself off to sit by Tony's side. Tony smiled sheepishly. Paul gave him a mild glare, "Did you think about how I would want to participate?"

"You shouldn't need to." Tony said wistfully. Paul let the silence permeate the air, while Tony thought about how that had sounded. He finally exhaled loudly, and, with what was fast becoming an endearing pout, he admitted, "It's stupid, I know. We're under a time constraint." 

Paul kissed the pout away, replacing it by a small delighted smile, "As long as that's clear, tell me what you have so far."

"Okay, so everything is fine up to getting us out of here," Tony gestured at the cell doors. "After that the details become sketchy. Money, I have and lots of it. I noticed that you have a passport, which is not only up to date but hasn't been flagged by anybody. Congrats on that, by the way. But, we don't actually have it. Neither do we have mine. And since you insist on getting myself out too, we have to think about that now," Tony scrubbed a hand over his face. "Are you sure—" he asked, then stopped at Paul’s angry expression. Tony lifted his arms, palm facing forward, as he continued, "Then we'll need to go over by the bus station on 8
th
Avenue. What about yours?"

"A car rental place, along with my money."

Tony's face brightened, "And that would be an awesome misdirect. If we actually had something to distract them from."

"Are you thinking plane? Train? What?" Paul asked to get a better feel for the situation.

"More like boat. The private marinas have the least security, because rich people can't be bothered to get through all kinds of safety checks. Naturally, we'd have to have a boat of some kind and be on a list of pre-approved people to get in. Which, you know, we aren't." Tony left the bunk to pace. "I could get us on that list, but in such a short time…" he shrugged, trailing off.

"What if we needed a couple million? More like…" Paul thought for a second, "Twenty."

Tony didn't even flinch. "Done. Why? What do you have in mind?"

"I might know a person." When Tony's eyebrow lifted and it was obvious he wanted to know more, Paul continued, "He's in the business and he doesn't ask questions if we don't."

"Can he get us on that list?" asked Tony simply, like he just wanted to know not like he doubted Paul.

Paul smiled. "Yes. We have to buy a yacht for that and give him something for his effort first, but he'll get us on the list."

Tony nodded and gave him the phone. "I take it you know his number."

"Not precisely. Stored on the internet," Paul grinned.

Tony just looked at him admiringly.

Paul found the contact and dialed. "Names?"

Apparently the question didn't need any clarification as Tony answered promptly, "Paul Andropov and Anthony Crosse. That's double 's' and an 'e'."

Paul nodded, waiting for Joel to pick up. Paul was very much ignoring that this would be the first time Tony would have heard him as a fixer and not the guy that made Tony laugh. Paul's demeanor would turn cold, not because the whole fixer thing was an act that he had perfected over the years, but because that was who he was.

Only that morning, Paul would have said there were no exceptions to that rule. That he just wasn't a warm guy. He would have shrugged and looked unrepentant. He wasn't sorry for what he was, what he had become; it had helped him survive for this long. But there was something about Tony that dug out Paul’s more gentle side from wherever the hell it was hiding, scared.

Here it was, though, the moment that Tony would meet Paul’s other true self, the one who he couldn't bring himself to be around Tony, but still was around other people. Paul took a soundless breath as soon as Joel answered.

"Hello, I am Jonathan Steele, how may help you?" came the posh British accent that Joel favored for unverified business transactions.

"Joel," said Paul simply and he could practically hear a tendril of ice sharpening his vowels.

The accent took a brusque turn, landing somewhere in the south, with the cows and the heat. "Mr. Fixer-man," Joel said delightedly, though it was almost impossible to tell what with his drawl. "What can I do you for?"

"I need a boat and a pass in a private marina. For two," Paul told him in that concise way he had developed. He raised his eyes, to look at Tony's reaction and some of the tension left Paul’s shoulders at the calm way he was regarded. Tony was listening, hearing nothing that was particularly bothersome as far as Paul could tell, waiting to transfer the money.

"I figure I'll be needin’ a shiny new car, but we can't always have what we need or want," Joel began the negotiation.

Apparently, Joel wanted money for himself. Color Paul surprised. "Help me with this and we can both get what we need. No 'want' necessary."