I own nothing here, just the idea of what could happen if these worlds ever collided.
"I don't like guns," the redhead says, and her voice is tight. Her eyes are as black as space, but they carry a tight haunted look.
Jack Harkness, the man of a million deaths, recognizes that look and holsters his gun instantly, "there doesn't need to be any guns then." He keeps his voice cool, calm and slightly friendly, "did you come through the rift?"
Her eyes widen, surprised, "there’s a rift? What’s a rift?" She looks around, as if she could just see it. She gasps then, "Oh Goddess! There is a rift!"
It’s Jack's turn to be surprised, "You can see it?" His mouth is open and he knows it makes him look stupid, silly, but he just can't shut it. No one can see the rift, not with just their eyes.
"It’s so... so cool," she breathes, eyes locked on something he can't see. "Wait, do you mean you can't see it?"
"You shouldn't be able to see it," Jack explains, "Are you human?"
Her eyes widen more, impossibly, and fill with panic, fear and self hatred. The black fades to hazel green, and then she’s moving forwards, face set in a mask of stubbornness, "I'm just as human as you are buster!" she pokes him in the chest.
Jack laughs so hard he can't breathe, is glad that he can't actually die, because death by laugher (while being a pleasant change) would just be ridiculous. After he calms down, he smiles at her, "can I buy you a coffee?"
She blushes, "actually, there’s this thing where I don't have a lot of caffeine because I babble. People say its hard to understand, and i think I'm doing it right now, so I’ll just um... stop," she finished weakly and takes a breath.
"I'm a fast learner," Jack smiles, "Captain Jack Harkness, at your service."
"Willow Rosenberg," the redhead grins at him, blushing still.
I'm not too sure on the whole 'seeing the rift' thing, but for the purposes of this fic, the rift can not be seen by human eyes.