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Jonathan Pine, today, is Noah Evans.
Noah is a USAmerican, a middleman, an easy-going sort with a quick smile and slow hands. He's the kind of guy who knows a guy for just about everything you need and is always happy to make introductions (as long as the price is right, of course). Noah used to have a bit of a drug habit in his twenties, something he very proudly kicked a few years back but still makes him twitchy from time to time. Noah has no clue how to fight or handle any sort of weapon with any level of success, but he knows how to say the right words to the right people to smooth even the worst of tempers and have everyone leave more satisfied than when they came.
Noah is not a threat, not to anyone in this world of theirs—he's simply a good friend to have on your side in a pinch, or when you need to make good times even better. And today, Noah is being an excellent friend to Diego Ruiz, the boy king of the rising drug trade in Spain who's decided to try his hand branching out into other nations, thus drawing the attention of various organizations that would rather he stay at home—such as MI6.
Diego took over his operation from his mother after she was gunned down in a raid by the Policía Nacional and has since expanded it far beyond what many thought possible. He's a smart man, if rather short-tempered. Quick with a plan but quick to rage, too—to offense, to displays of dominance that gets extremely violent if he feels he's been challenged in even the slightest of ways.
And then in comes Noah. Noah, who is easy-going. Noah, who is a smiler and a laugher and a coward when it comes to violence, and not ashamed of it. Noah, who doesn't get offended when people get sharp with him, who simply backs off and moves on with his day. Noah, who doesn't ping any of Diego's prickly attitude, who Diego can't help but like because he's just so different from all the macho assholes he normally surrounds himself with. Who grins when Diego insults him and laughs when someone calls him weak and is just easy to be around.
Diego doesn't have a lot of people like that in his life. Diego is surrounded by jagged edges and sharp tongues and Noah Evans is a breath of fresh air, even if he is a USAmerican. Noah is exactly what Diego needs, now that he's expanding. A person who knows all the right people and isn't a bother to be around. Someone Diego could see himself working with for a very long time to come.
Noah is not the first person Jonathan has become in his life, not even close. He wears so many faces these days, pulls on a variety of identities like one might trade out outfits. He's truly good at it, now. Hell, he always has been, but now it's become something of an artform for him. Tom Quince and Andrew Birch opened the door, and Jonathan's found he really came into his own once he stepped through.
It's been a little over a year since everything with Richard Roper went down, a year since Jonathan destroyed Roper's operation and broke his organization to pieces and arranged for Roper to meet his end the way so many others did under Jonathan's attention. And yeah Roper might've gotten away in the end, escaped from the criminals who very badly wanted him dead, but it doesn't change the fact that Jonathan broke everything he built into tiny pieces, forcing the man underground. Doesn't change that Jonathan won.
Since then, Jonathan's been the leading man in three separate undercover operations, Noah Evans sliding in as Number Four. He was Finn MacFarlane when he took down an arms ring. Jacob West when a sex trafficker let him in too close. Dimitri Volkov when corrupt spies selling info to the enemy trusted the wrong man. He wears them and takes them off as easy as breathing and there is absolutely nothing he would rather do than this.
He...thinks about Roper, every time he completes another successful mission. Every time he takes down another target who didn't see him coming until it was too late, every time a criminal web splinters to pieces under his regard—he thinks of Roper. He thinks of "Oh, you beauty" and "Emperors of Rome" and "I would've given you the world" and "See you in a few days" and "Even traitors can be forgiven" and—
He just. He thinks about Roper a lot. A lot more than he should, maybe.
He thinks about him and Andrew Birch and how both of those people shaped who Jonathan became, who he's still becoming, who he is every time he smiles in the face of yet another criminal tricked into trusting him. He steps into a room filled with the worst of humanity and instinctively scans everyone around him like he might see Roper. He chooses a new name and wonders what Roper might think of the backstory. He practices his latest accent and wonders if Roper would've been impressed by the skill. He gains power and acclaim as someone false and can picture Roper's wide, proud smile like nothing else.
Maybe that will end, when someone finally captures Roper for good. Maybe it won't. But for now, Richard Roper is a nearly constant companion in Jonathan's mind—and, today, in the mind of Noah Evans.
He's meeting with Diego and some of Diego's lieutenants in a shitty bar in Madrid. The room is packed with criminals from all walks of life, a safe zone for business of all kinds to be done. Noah is drinking heavily and playing darts terribly, laughing when he hands over the money he bet to his opponents. They're all grinning companionably, pushing his shoulder much the same way. They talk about their business with looser tongues than they should, trusting their company, and honestly it has nothing to do with Jonathan's current mission but he soaks in all the information anyway.
Diego drags him away from the game eventually, rolling his eyes, saying something insulting about Noah's skills and something degrading about his worth if he can't even throw a dart. Noah only grins and agrees, throwing an arm around Diego's shoulders, and Diego allows it from him like he wouldn't from anybody else.
Jonathan's really good at that. He has no idea why, he has no idea why he's so talented at getting people to drop their guards around him the way they wouldn't fucking dare for a single other person, but he is. It's almost...sad, for the people he's "befriending". They really never stood a chance.
But then, Jonathan doesn't actually feel bad for taking them all in. Firstly, they're all truly terrible human beings who deserve what's coming to them. And secondly...
Secondly, Jonathan just really, really likes to win. He likes coming out on top over all these powerful people. He likes skirting the edges of darkness and then slipping away scot free whilst everything burns in his wake. He likes being an Emperor of Rome, with none of the (permanent) moral bankruptcy.
It's not something he'll admit to any of his handlers, because they don't need to know any of that. Angela would've been able to smell it on him, but Angela has a bigger job than "track Jonathan Pine's mental state" these days so she's not really around to smack him upside the head for perhaps skirting a tad too close. And to be honest, his handlers aren't Angela—they probably couldn't give less of a shit about what's going on in his head, as long as he's getting the job done.
And boy is he ever getting the job done.
"Where is this contact of yours?" Diego asks, once he's dragged Noah over to his table. Noah relaxes easily into the booth, sprawling loosely, completely unbothered by all the truly dangerous people surrounding him. Looking, for all intents and purposes, like he's not even aware of the danger, simply having a good time and enjoying the company. Always having a good time, always relaxed, despite the world they work in. An oddity that Diego is still trying to wrap his head around and all the more drawn in for it.
"My friend, you mean?" Noah asks. It's a defining trait of his, one Jonathan rather likes for how it bewilders everyone around him—Noah doesn't have business associates or allies or what have you, everyone he connects with is his friend. And he likes bringing his friends together; just tell him what you need, and he absolutely knows somebody perfect for the job.
Diego rolls his eyes, but doesn't sneer like he would've at anyone else. "Sure, your friend. Where is he?"
Noah's "friend" today is actually another undercover MI6 operative, one who is playing the role of Louis Vasquez, a smuggler who could help Diego with his expansion into other countries. The person Diego was going to use for that job mysteriously vanished and left Diego in desperate need of a new one, how sad. How fortunate that Noah was around to help Diego with that tragic situation.
Louis arrives soon enough, and Jonathan plays joyful and enthusiastic to be helping facilitate two great business partners, sure to be great together as well. Louis reacts to Noah the same way Diego does, finding common ground in their utter bafflement of this strange person in their dangerous world. Equally fond of Noah, of course, but Louis plays at being far more distant, not a threat to Diego's friendship. Bolstering Diego's friendship with him, even. Jonathan has to admit that Louis isn't terrible at his job.
Jonathan sits back next to Diego and lets the conversation flow around him, not interjecting now that business is happening that doesn't actually have anything to do with him, now that Noah's made the introductions and ensured no one started any fights at first meeting. He keeps part of his attention on Diego just in case but lets the rest of it wander around the rest of the bar, listening to various conversations, making mental notes of certain individuals for later. Not a bad way to spend a few hours.
Every time the door opens, Jonathan tracks whoever's coming in or going out, too used to being hyperaware to ever be able to set it down. Business around the bar is started and handled, again and again, so many deals going down it would make the head honchos at MI6 salivate. They come and they go, and Jonathan keeps a mental tally of them all.
Then the door opens, about half an hour into Diego and Louis discussing specifics, and it isn't some random thug or eager up-and-comer. It isn't some run-of-the-mill criminal. It's a very familiar, very unexpected, face.
Jonathan's brain—glitches, for a moment. It's the only way he can describe it, looking at Richard Roper in the flesh for the first time since watching him head towards what Jonathan thought would be his death. He's actually here, actually in some crap criminal bar in Madrid, actually standing across the room from Jonathan talking and smiling and getting a drink with the easy air of someone able to fit in absolutely anywhere.
(Jonathan didn't have to learn how to be good at becoming other people, but his time under Richard Roper certainly perfected the skill, and that was in no small part due to how damn good at it Roper is himself.)
Roper sips his drink and shakes hands with some people whose faces Jonathan memorizes for later, and he clasps someone companionably on the shoulder, and Jonathan can't stop staring, he has direct line of sight—
And it occurs to Jonathan in that moment that if he has direct line of sight, Roper could have it right back.
Jonathan Pine is Noah Evans today but Noah Evans still looks like Jonathan Pine; different clothes and body language and hair color can't change his face, can't hide his shape from someone who came to know him inside and out, far more than Jonathan ever expected him to. Jonathan is wide open right now and this is so insanely not good.
He's never been in a situation like this before. He's never been on an op and come into contact with someone who knows him—let alone someone who was once a target. He needs to get the fuck out. He needs to get the fuck out.
Roper glances around. Jonathan sucks in a sharp breath, body tensing in preparation of a quick exit, but it's too late—Roper's gaze lands directly on him.
For a moment, they just stare at each other. Roper blinks, lips parting in shock, staring at Jonathan in a way that Jonathan could even call flabbergasted, and Jonathan tracks his exits for the millionth time since entering the bar, this time with far more urgency. This entire operation has just gone tits up. He needs to extract himself. Get Louis out, too, if he can manage it. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
"What's wrong with you?" Diego grunts next to him, and it's only through instinct that Jonathan doesn't stay frozen, that Jonathan turns to Diego with a grin like his heart isn't pounding out of his fucking chest.
"Nothing," Jonathan says, waving a hand dismissively. He can feel Louis' eyes on him, wondering what the fuck's going on, why Jonathan just changed up and grabbed Diego's attention in the wrong way. "Nothing, really, just thought I saw an ex—oof, you know, some girls do not like it when you sleep with their sister. Crazy, right?"
Diego rolls his eyes at him and scowls, and glances around the bar like he might pick out what girl Jonathan might've seen, what girl turned Jonathan on his head, and fuck, shit, no, he's Noah, Noah, he has a job to do, but he needs to get the fuck out before—
"Diego Ruiz! You old sport, how have you been?"
Jonathan goes perfectly still. Louis, across the table, goes perfectly still, eyes flaring wide. Diego looks up and smiles, actually smiles, like Jonathan's not seen him truly do for anyone but Noah, and gets to his feet, extending a hand outward for a shake.
"Roper, it has been a while," Diego says. "Haven't seen you around here in a long time—finally get that MI6 stink off your ass?"
There are eyes on Jonathan. Jonathan takes a breath and looks up and—
And there Richard Roper is, standing directly next to their table, smiling companionably at Diego, setting Diego completely at ease, and Jonathan has to fight the hysterical urge to laugh because yup, that right there is part of the reason Jonathan is so fucking good at what he does.
"Not completely," Roper says, his brief gaze towards Jonathan sliding away like it was nothing of import. "You know how these things go. But I'm still working."
"Of course," Diego agrees. "Glad to hear it, it would've been a shame for someone like you to be out of business. Would have my mother rolling over in her grave."
"I was so sorry to hear about her death," Roper says, eyebrows pinching sympathetically. "Isabel was a truly spectacular woman, and she's greatly missed."
Jonathan has to fight the urge to burst out into hysterical laughter. Of course Roper has a connection to the Ruiz crime family, of course he does. Roper's connections in the world are fucking endless, and those "friendships" didn't completely go away with Roper's fall from grace. Of fucking course Roper knows Jonathan's target, of fucking course he's here, of fucking course Jonathan's about to have to fight for his goddamn life to get out of here because his luck has turned to utter shit. How the hell are he and Louis going to get out of this?
"Thank you," Diego says, as close to heartfelt as Jonathan's ever heard him. "She would have appreciated that—always a fan of yours!"
They share a chuckle, and Louis and Jonathan share a bugged out look, and then Diego is saying, "I am being rude—Richard Roper, Noah Evans. A...good friend of mine."
Jonathan stands and looks Roper in the eye. Roper looks back at him levelly. And Jonathan waits for it, waits for the callout, settles on his feet ready to run, planning how quickly he could get out of the bar and if he could even make it to the door with how many criminals are between him and the exit, any exit. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Louis shift, his arm twitching like he's drawn his gun under the table. They're on the same knife's edge.
And then Roper smiles and offers Jonathan his hand.
"Good to meet you, Noah Evans," he says. He draws the name out the same way he did Thomas Quince. "Any friend of Diego's is certainly a friend of mine."
Jonathan takes the hand. Two brief pumps. There's a glimmer in Roper's eye, something almost—amused, and Jonathan has no fucking clue what's going on.
"Right back at you," Jonathan says, and shit, what would Noah do here? He'd— So Jonathan smiles, wide and easy, relaxing his posture from whatever the fuck it's become during this Twilight Zone episode playing out live. "I like you already, if you've got Diego actually calling me a friend!" He tosses a grin Diego's way, and receives a scowl in response that only makes his smile grow even wider.
"Indeed," Roper says, and lets Jonathan's hand go. Jonathan's pulse is racing. "And what is it you do, Noah?"
"This and that," Jonathan says, shrugging as if he's nothing important, still smiling. Still easy breezy. "Good at bringing people together, I guess. Helping people get what they need!"
Louis is staring at him like he's insane. Jonathan feels insane. He's standing here, looking Richard Roper in the eye, both of them knowing who he is and why he's here, and yet the game continues. And yet, Jonathan is still Noah and Roper isn't revealing the rat in their midst and it's all—fine, somehow, it is all fine.
What the fuck. Just—what the fuck.
"A middle man," Roper says, tone appreciative, dipping his head in a nod. "Good, good. Diego needs good people in his corner, and loyalty is so hard to come by these days."
Jonathan can't help it—he laughs. He laughs, not Noah, not an easy bright thing that disarms everyone around him. Jonathan laughs and it's a little too sharp, too him, and Roper grins back at him.
Jonathan is better than this. Jonathan is so much better than this. He has been through countless situations that would've made other people break and he's done it without flinching, held his cover like he truly was the person he was pretending to be. Cool as a cucumber, always, no matter what. And yet here Roper is, looking at him and smiling at him and sharing an inside joke with him and Jonathan is—himself, for a minute. Himself in a way he hasn't been since...
Since the last time this man was in front of him, he supposes.
"Say, Diego, you mind if I borrow your man here for a moment? I think I interrupted your conversation with that one there, but I'd love to pick Mr. Evans' brain about some potential contacts."
Diego frowns, gives Noah a side-eye. It's nearly...protective, and it makes Jonathan wink at him, grinning teasingly, which draws a deep scowl from Diego.
"I'm not his keeper," Diego grunts, which is when Jonathan actually registers what the fuck Roper just asked, and what Jonathan's instinctive Noah teasing brought about. That was a dismissal. That was a yes, that was an agreement, that was permission for Roper to go pick Noah's brain. And Jonathan can't say fuck no, Jonathan can't decide to stay at the table, he is fucked.
Louis shifts, just enough to draw Jonathan's attention, and looks at him intently when Jonathan "casually" meets his gaze. It's a check-in; Louis has fuck-all of a plan, but if Jonathan signals that he needs to get out of here, if he says that he can't go talk to Roper, then Louis will fight for it. Which, considering they don't actually know each other from Jack, says quite a lot about his character.
He flicks his fingers down at his side, a brief dismissal of his own. Somehow, their op hasn't been blown wide open by the presence of Roper, so Louis still has a job to do. Jonathan doesn't mind stepping away, he can read Louis' report of the conversation later.
And, honestly, he is...curious, about what Roper has to say. Plus, Roper didn't just out him as an MI6 agent, so maybe Jonathan owes him a conversation. If he turns him down, Roper could so easily change his tune. Might as well go with the flow for the moment and see what happens.
Louis settles. Roper shoots him a quick smirk. It seems the only one in the dark about what's happening is Diego—Jonathan will take what he can get. Louis is a big boy, he'll be fine.
"Sure, why not," Jonathan says with an easy smile. "I don't mind making new friends, yeah?"
"Quite right," Roper says, and gestures grandly towards an empty table a little ways away. "Shall we?"
Shoulder blades itching where he can feel eyes on him, Jonathan starts walking, letting Roper fall in behind him. He takes the seat with his back to the wall, angling it slightly for the best line of sight to Louis and Diego. Diego's back is to him, so Jonathan can thankfully drop a majority of his outward Noah persona, instead looking at Roper seriously as the older man settles in across from him.
For a long moment, they simply look at each other.
Then, Roper smiles at him. "It's good to see you, Andrew."
Jonathan takes a slow breath, trying to get a handle on everything that simple statement pulls at inside him. How simply Roper calls him Andrew, even though he knows—But it's like nothing's different. The way Roper's looking at him, addressing him. It's like it used to be, before Jonathan blew it all to smithereens. Hell, even after that—the way Roper spoke to him, looked at him, even as he got carted away in cuffs. Like Roper still thought of him well even after everything.
"You too," Jonathan says, and somehow finds that he means it. Finds that the USAmerican accent has slipped away from him, leaving behind his natural voice.
Roper's lips twitch, pleased. He reclines in his chair and takes a leisurely sip of his drink, looking like a king holding court even here in this shithole of a dive bar. He always carried that air with him so effortlessly, always drew people to him with it. You couldn't help but want to hear what he had to say, be a part of whatever plans he had going on. A magnetic man, through and through.
"Well, it's been more than a few days, but I did tell you I'd see you, didn't I?" Roper says, saluting Jonathan with his glass.
"You did," Jonathan allows. "I can't say I believed you at the time."
"Of course not," Roper scoffs. "You thought you'd won. You thought that was the end, eh? That I was shuffling off this mortal coil. That you'd never have to face me again."
"I can face you just fine."
Roper's gaze is sharp. It's so familiar. How many times was Jonathan the subject of a look just like this from this very man? Fuck, did he actually miss it?
"Yes you can," Roper murmurs. "You always could, hm? Part of the reason we got on so well."
"I was playing a role," Jonathan says pointedly.
"Sure, tell yourself that," Roper says, waving a dismissive hand through the air. "If it helps you sleep at night. But I know you, Jonathan. No matter what name you go by, what ridiculous accent you put on, what terrible clothes you wear—I know you." He smiles. "And I must say, I'm very pleased to see you're still playing the game. A rematch is in our future, eh?"
A corner of Jonathan's mouth ticks up very much against his will. Roper's returning smile is just as small but freer, unbothered, meaning what he says. The same man who looked at Jonathan, in the wake of Jonathan blowing up his life's work, and eyed him like he was a marvel as he said "Oh, you beauty."
Jonathan thinks about that a lot. More than he should. He feels like Roper can read that all over his face right now. He doesn't know what it says about him, what Roper can tell about him because of it. Surely nothing good. Surely nothing Jonathan could ever tell his handlers.
Angela would understand instantly. But Angela's moved up in the world, bigger and better jobs than managing Jonathan's life, and so here Jonathan is, face to face with Richard Roper and actually happy about it.
"I'll take you down just like I did last time," Jonathan says.
Roper scoffs out a laugh. "I don't feel very taken down, Pine."
Jonathan tilts his head, half-conceding the point. "But you're not what you were, are you?"
Roper's eyes narrow slightly. His smirk is sharp. "Are we calling it all a draw, then?"
"Oh, I don't know about that," Jonathan says. "I think it was all rather skewed towards me, if we're tallying successes."
"Let's not get cocky," Roper chastises lightly, but Jonathan can tell he's gotten under his skin. Good, he thinks. Considering you exist under my own. "It's unbecoming."
"It's accurate," Jonathan corrects. "What else would you call what happened? I decimated your organization. You were nearly killed. It was a miracle you got out of that situation alive."
"Thoughtful of you," Roper says, "to consider my survival a miracle."
Jonathan gives a huff of a laugh before he can stop it, and Roper smirks. He taps his glass twice on the table and then stands, ignoring the way Jonathan twitches at the movement, watching him carefully.
"It was good seeing you, Noah. I look forward to the next time our paths cross." He winks. "Whoever you may be when that happens."
Jonathan watches him stroll towards the door, not moving. He could stop him. Physically, by going after him and taking him down, or more abstractly, by calling backup and letting them know exactly where Richard Onslow Roper is so they swarm down to capture the dangerous criminal. He could put an end to what he started right here, right now.
But somehow, that feels...unsportsmanlike.
And he finds that he believes Roper, in a way he didn't the last time they said goodbye to each other; they'll see each other again. The game goes on, and Jonathan has become rather good at playing. The best in the business, really.
He might even be looking forward to going up against the best once more, in turn.