1x15: When in Rome... (2/4)
Title: When In Rome...
Author: spikewriter
Rating: PG
Pairing: Rose/Ten II
Summary: The Doctor and Rose find themselves on a bit of a Roman holiday, but quickly discover that not everything is la dolce vita among the nightclub set
Author's notes: My thanks to my husband for the beta work (even if he rolled his eyes a few times) and to shinyopals and the Julies for Brit-picking and putting up with my hectic schedule
Episode 15 of a virtual series at the_altverse, following Terror in the Deep.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
Virtual Series Masterlist
The cocktails were instantly forgotten as both the Doctor and Rose turned their attention to the situation on the other side of the dance floor. One of the men seated at the table had collapsed to the floor, curling into a tight ball with his arms wrapped about his head as if to protect himself. No one at the table seemed to notice, their quiet conversation continuing uninterrupted.
On his feet, the Doctor was across the floor in an instant, kneeling by the man as he rocked back and forth, a low keening issuing from the huddled form. “Tell me what’s wrong,” the Doctor said, surreptitiously pulling out the sonic and beginning to scan. “I can help.”
“Horrible. Horrible...”
Out of all his mutterings, those were the only recognizable words. “The readings tell you anything?” Roe asked as she joined the Doctor.
“Body chemistry’s all out of balance, but I don’t know why.” Reaching out, he grasped the man’s wrists and tried to pull his arms away from his head. At first the man resisted, his arms so stiff they felt almost petrified, but then, suddenly he relaxed and looked up, blue eyes clear and innocent, even with the tear tracks that stained his face. “I’m sorry. Did something happen?”
The change was sudden enough that the Doctor sat back on his heels. The man seemed utterly fine. “You screamed and collapsed to the floor.”
The man flushed and for a moment the Doctor wondered if the fit would begin again. Then, however, he maneuvered himself into a sitting position, hands busy with straightening his tie and jacket. “Most embarrassing. Dash poor taste. I must apologize for interrupting your evening.”
His accent bespoke a public school education, hardly what one expected to find when helping a screaming man on the floor of a Roman discotheque, but the Doctor had learned long ago to expect anything. Which meant he wasn’t surprised when any offer of further assistance was ever so politely waved off.
Rose didn’t give up so easily. “You’re sure you’re okay? Maybe we should get you to hospital, have you checked over.”
Another polite refusal, this time with a slight bow and a hope that he hadn’t completely spoiled her evening before heading back to his table and his friends -- none of whom seemed particularly bothered by what had just happened.
The Doctor opened his mouth to protest, but he felt Rose’ hand on his arm. Just as she did at cocktail parties, she proceeded to drag him back to their table while making it look as if he was the one guiding her. “I have never figured out why, of all the places in the universe, of all the nightclubs there are in a city, we always manage to walk into the one where there’s something weird going on,” she said in a low voice.
“Just lucky, I guess. Look, Rose, I know I promised you a quiet, romantic evening, but I really think we need to find out what’s happening. This behavior isn’t normal.”
“I agree - and I also think the two men sitting over at that table over there with the rather horrified looks on their faces know it too.”
The Doctor looked in the direction she indicated, but only saw another man and woman as sedate as the other patrons. “Not them,” Rose said. “The ones at the back, with no view of the stage at all.”
Shifting his gaze a little, he realized what Rose meant; the two men at the small and rather badly-placed table near the kitchen doors looked unhappy, eyeing the other patrons nervously. “They know it’s not some silly game,” she said. “Not that I bought that idea for a minute. Anyway, even without them, something strange is definitely going on. These people would normally never put up with service this bad. Have you noticed there aren’t that many waiters?”
“So speaks the girl from the Powell Estates,” he teased, reaching out to lay his hand on hers where it rested on the table. “You’ve come a long way, Rose Tyler.”
The grin she gave him in return was cheeky. “Had to find something to do after you blew up my job.”
Impulsively, he leaned over to kiss her. He liked kissing her; kissing Rose was definitely one of the benefits of this life. Kissing Rose when they were in harmony with one another was even better.
“I say, sorry to bother you, but I just wanted to say good for you for stepping in to help.”
Reluctantly, the Doctor and Rose separated to consider the new arrival standing by their table. Another Englishman, expensively but not too fashionably dressed. “Sebastian Reginald-Brown,” the man said cheerfully. “Haven’t seen you around these parts before. Just arrived?”
“Here for the weekend,” Rose said, reaching for her cocktail. She was definitely going into Vitex heiress at a party mode: polite, friendly -- but not so friendly Sebastian Reginald-Brown might be encouraged to hang around.
Sebastian didn’t take the hint. “Good lord, you’re not going to actually drink that dreadful stuff? I know they’re all the rage here since Luigi got the new bartender, but I can’t stand them, personally. Let me order up a bottle of wine, thanks for a job well done.”
The Doctor was about to explain they’d been promised a bottle of wine but the cocktails had arrived instead when Rose nudged him in the ribs. “Our friends are paying their bill.”
The two men were indeed putting money down on the table, which meant the time to have a chat with them just outside the club was now. “Very lovely of you,” the Doctor said. “But have to to dash. Perhaps another time. Tea, maybe.”
He said it just to be polite, but Sebastian was nodding eagerly. “Splendid. Tea would be much better. Cafe Pia Rialto just off the piazza up here? Tomorrow at four?”
Both the Doctor and Rose muttered something non-committal, eyes firmly fixed on the two men. Something wasn’t quite right about them; the Doctor wasn’t sure what, but watching them disappear out of the entrance, he could feel that little tingle that always warned him when something was off.
They had almost made it out the door when they found their way blocked by the manager. “Surely you are not leaving so soon? The food is coming. Please, I must apologize for the waiters; if you will return your table, I will wait on you myself.”
“We, ah, remembered another appointment that we need to get to,” the Doctor said, craning his neck slightly to look over the man’s shoulder.
The manager’s face fell. “But you have not enjoyed our hospitality! I thought you said you wanted your readers to know where the finest entertainment was in the city.”
The Doctor was about to open his mouth to speak when Rose sweetly interjected. “And we do - but to be honest, Signori, I’m afraid your wait staff tonight is, shall we say, not very impressive? The wine never appeared and we received two cocktails we did not order.”
The manager frowned as the Doctor caught a glimpse of their quarry hailing a cab. “The cocktails are a specialty of the house; everyone is drinking them, but the wine-” He took a deep breath. “That is unacceptable. Please, if you would only stay, I assure you we will be, as you English say, at the top of our form. Your readers will know that the Club Moreli is the place to see and be seen when in Rome.”
He began to rain kisses on Rose’s hand and called her bella, but the Doctor grabbed Rose’s other hand and tugged her along with him out the door. “Have a care, will you?” Rose said once they were safely out of the man’s earshot. “I’ll break my neck in these heels if I’m not careful.”
The Doctor nodded, but didn’t really pay attention as he scanned the street. “There they are! Come on, Rose.”
With that, he was off like a shot, trusting that she would follow. The idea the men were up to something was only confirmed when they glanced back over their shoulders to catch sight of him, then began running themselves.
The main plazas of Rome might have been beautifully laid out, but once one was no longer on the main streets, the city turned into a rabbit’s warren of alleyways, side passages and unexpected dead ends. The Doctor followed them through three right turns, one left, down a flight of stairs, another left -- and found himself in a dead end that boasted the shuttered windows of an antique store given the sign and several doors, all of which were closed tight with no lights into the windows above them.
For just a moment, he considered knocking on each of the doors in turn, but he had a feeling that wouldn’t be well received and if he didn’t get things right on the first try, it’d only give them more time to get away.
Reluctantly, the Doctor began retracing his steps and found Rose waiting at the top of the stairs, shoes in hand. “Lose them?” she asked as he trudged up the steep stone steps to join her.
“Unfortunately, yes. They disappeared into a house and I didn’t know which one. You didn’t run all this way barefoot, did you?”
“No, but I was taking my shoes off when you came out. Wasn’t going to try running down those steps in these.”
He reached the top of the stairs as she put the shoes down. Reaching out a hand to steady herself on his shoulder, she stepped first into one, then the other. “Better?” he asked.
She turned to face him, suddenly much more on his eye level with the heels. “Mmm. Much.”
A short, sweet kiss in the Roman moonlight before they began to stroll back toward the TARDIS arm in arm. “I still say the club manager knows something,” the Doctor said as they walked. "I don't think he would have been so insistent we stay if he didn’t."
Rose shrugged. "I still think it’s because he thinks we're from a magazine." She gave him a sideways look. "Time Out? Really?"
The Doctor shrugged. "It's what I could think of at the moment. Unfortunately, his desire to grovel in order to mitigate what would have surely been one of the more spectacularly bad reviews of all time gave our quarry too much of a head start.”
"And no alien tech to track them?"
"Trust me, building something to track folks like that is going to the top of my list, right after finding out what's messing with the TARDIS.”
They made the final turn back onto the street where the club was located. The chase hadn’t covered a great distance at all, the Doctor realized, which meant the men might be findable again, even without the alien tech Rose always teased him about. “I do know something that could help, though; we'll meet the Honorable Sebastian Reginald-Brown for tea tomorrow, see what he knows."
Rose looked at him with a bit of surprise. "I didn’t think you were planning to accept that invitation."
"I wasn’t. Now, however, I think we should take full advantage of the fact he's part of this crowd and see what he knows. You can show off those Torchwood interrogation skills."
Rose laughed, only to have it turn into a bit of a squeal as a man brushed past her as he headed toward the piazza up ahead knocking her off balance. Instantly, the Doctor reached out to steady her. “Are you okay, Rose?”
“Yeah, fine. There’s a reason I don’t usually wear shoes like this; not really practical for what we do, are they?”
Reassured she wasn’t going to topple over, the Doctor couldn’t help doing a little teasing of his own. “That should put to rest any fantasies you have of Italian men being wonderfully courteous and fawning over women all the time.”
She gave a bit of a snort. “Please. I was convinced of that more than fifteen hundred years ago.” A pause and she looked after the man with a bit of a frown on her face. “I’m not sure he’s Italian, though.”
“Did you notice something?”
For a long moment, she continued to stare in the direction the man had gone, then shook her head. “It’s just a feeling. Come on; let’s get back to the TARDIS. My feet are killing me.”
# # #
By the time morning came, the diagnostic was still running and the Doctor didn’t seem happy with what he was seeing so far. It wasn’t that he said anything, but the way he frowned, peered at the screen, put on his glasses, then leaned forward to peer at the screen once again was a good indicator.
Leaning against the doorway to the control room, her robe tied loosely about her and a steaming cup of coffee nestled in her hands, Rose observed him silently. Something was wrong, but she wasn’t sure if he wasn’t telling her because he’d gone into one of his non-sharing modes or because he just didn’t know. In some ways, she’d prefer the former; she didn’t like to think about those things in the universe that stumped him completely. No, he didn’t have the air of the situation being a dangerous one and he wasn’t telling her because he wanted to protect her from whatever was about to eat the universe in one gulp. This was more like Mickey when he couldn’t figure out why a car wasn’t working.
Shifting the mug to grip the handle a bit more firmly, she reached out her other hand to stroke the wall closest her. Maybe her connection wasn’t quite what the Doctor’s was, but she couldn’t help feeling a bit proprietary toward the ship and hoped there wasn’t anything wrong the Doctor couldn’t fix. Getting home didn’t seem to be a question at the moment, though if things kept acting up, they might well end up earthbound for a while whether they liked it or not.
At the console, the Doctor gave a sigh and straightened. “Bob Charila - whoever the hell he is - is getting on my nerves.”
“You think us landing here is more of his doing?”
“I think the TARDIS going off course is his doing. If I could figure out how he’s doing it, I could come up with something to block the signal or whatever he’s using.” He joined her in the doorway and snagged her coffee mug for a quick sip, only to make a face.
“Sorry I don’t use enough sugar,” Rose said, taking the cup back. “So, no problem leaving when it’s time?”
“Shouldn’t be - might take us a few hops to get where we want to go if he’s still working the signal - but we can take off when needed. Don’t we have a mystery to solve first, though?”
“Right. The club, the well-behaved party goers and whatever information the Honorable Sebastian Reginald-Brown can give us. Are we sure he’s an Honorable?”
“Did you see that chin? Of course he’s an Honorable. The product of centuries of in-breeding. If we get dressed, we can go sightseeing until it’s time to meet him.”
An hour later, they emerged to discover a bright spring day, making Rose grateful she’d decided to bring the hat that went with the yellow shift she was wearing. She was also grateful the shoes that went with the outfit were flats, suitable for walking and much more suitable for running if necessary.
The Doctor gave her an appreciative once-over. “Another ‘just in case we have to go to a Vitex function’ outfit?”
“Mum told me she was planning a garden party, so I figured it was a good idea to have something on hand.”
“Just in case we land the TARDIS right in the middle of it?” He considered the idea for a moment, then nodded. “What am I supposed to do in that instance?”
“Try to sneak off to Dad’s study and avoid Mum because you know she’ll be annoyed and blame you. If I’m properly dressed, it might distract her for a few minutes.”
“And the hat?”
“Still appropriate for garden parties. Oh, and Ascot. They got rid of the Royals, but they didn’t get rid of the race.”
He frowned. “I’m trying to picture your mother at Ascot. It’s not working.”
“She hates it. Says everyone pretends they’re too good to cheer the horses on. If Mum bets on a horse, she’s going to give it encouragement. Still, she and Dad always take some Vitex clients every year. I’m not allowed to go; Mickey and I misbehaved the first time we went.”
“You giggled at a client’s hat?”
Rose nodded. “Ugliest thing you’ve ever seen - and I know you’ve seen some ugly things in your time.”
He laughed and offered her his arm. Rose happily took it, looking forward to at least some time spent simply exploring the city together as tourists, listening to the stories he had to spin. That the more entertained she seemed to be, the wilder the stories became hadn’t escaped her noticed. But strolling arm and arm with him through the streets of Rome, she couldn’t help thinking that this was the life she’d wanted and it was definitely better with two.
After a pleasant day of sight-seeing -- real, genuine, the-Earth’s-not-in-imminent-danger-of-destruction sightseeing -- they arrived early for their meeting at Café Pia Rialto, giving them a chance to survey the landscape. The café was half empty at the moment, what looked to be mostly tourists taking a break before a final round of sightseeing for the afternoon. Some things never change, Rose couldn’t help thinking. The women shop and the men look bored. That was something else she loved about the Doctor; wherever they were, he always looked on it as an adventure.
Seated at their table, enjoying the ice-chilled drinks the waiter (who was much more prompt than what they’d seen at the club last night) brought them, Rose allowed herself to relax. “Someone’s probably spiking the Campari with something,” she said. “Find out who, stop them, and we’ll be free to enjoy ourselves.”
The Doctor smiled and lifted his glass to her. “My Rose, ever the optimist. Really think it’s that easy? Sounds like something out of a bad Sixties spy film.”
“Should I start calling you ‘Mr. Bond,’ then?”
Before he could respond, a shadow fell over the table, the sun temporarily blocked by a man who seemed all too familiar. “Whose bright idea at Headquarters was this?” he demanded. “Tomlinson’s? I know he’s been looking for a reason to throw a wrench into the works, never mind that I’m already in exile.”
Rose and the Doctor stared at the man, not quite certain how to respond. “Well?” he demanded when they didn’t speak. “Right. I suppose you’re going to insist on the code phrase. ‘The dog walks softly through the snow.’ Now will you admit you’re part of Torchwood and tell me why you’re here?”
Author: spikewriter
Rating: PG
Pairing: Rose/Ten II
Summary: The Doctor and Rose find themselves on a bit of a Roman holiday, but quickly discover that not everything is la dolce vita among the nightclub set
Author's notes: My thanks to my husband for the beta work (even if he rolled his eyes a few times) and to shinyopals and the Julies for Brit-picking and putting up with my hectic schedule
Episode 15 of a virtual series at the_altverse, following Terror in the Deep.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
Virtual Series Masterlist
The cocktails were instantly forgotten as both the Doctor and Rose turned their attention to the situation on the other side of the dance floor. One of the men seated at the table had collapsed to the floor, curling into a tight ball with his arms wrapped about his head as if to protect himself. No one at the table seemed to notice, their quiet conversation continuing uninterrupted.
On his feet, the Doctor was across the floor in an instant, kneeling by the man as he rocked back and forth, a low keening issuing from the huddled form. “Tell me what’s wrong,” the Doctor said, surreptitiously pulling out the sonic and beginning to scan. “I can help.”
“Horrible. Horrible...”
Out of all his mutterings, those were the only recognizable words. “The readings tell you anything?” Roe asked as she joined the Doctor.
“Body chemistry’s all out of balance, but I don’t know why.” Reaching out, he grasped the man’s wrists and tried to pull his arms away from his head. At first the man resisted, his arms so stiff they felt almost petrified, but then, suddenly he relaxed and looked up, blue eyes clear and innocent, even with the tear tracks that stained his face. “I’m sorry. Did something happen?”
The change was sudden enough that the Doctor sat back on his heels. The man seemed utterly fine. “You screamed and collapsed to the floor.”
The man flushed and for a moment the Doctor wondered if the fit would begin again. Then, however, he maneuvered himself into a sitting position, hands busy with straightening his tie and jacket. “Most embarrassing. Dash poor taste. I must apologize for interrupting your evening.”
His accent bespoke a public school education, hardly what one expected to find when helping a screaming man on the floor of a Roman discotheque, but the Doctor had learned long ago to expect anything. Which meant he wasn’t surprised when any offer of further assistance was ever so politely waved off.
Rose didn’t give up so easily. “You’re sure you’re okay? Maybe we should get you to hospital, have you checked over.”
Another polite refusal, this time with a slight bow and a hope that he hadn’t completely spoiled her evening before heading back to his table and his friends -- none of whom seemed particularly bothered by what had just happened.
The Doctor opened his mouth to protest, but he felt Rose’ hand on his arm. Just as she did at cocktail parties, she proceeded to drag him back to their table while making it look as if he was the one guiding her. “I have never figured out why, of all the places in the universe, of all the nightclubs there are in a city, we always manage to walk into the one where there’s something weird going on,” she said in a low voice.
“Just lucky, I guess. Look, Rose, I know I promised you a quiet, romantic evening, but I really think we need to find out what’s happening. This behavior isn’t normal.”
“I agree - and I also think the two men sitting over at that table over there with the rather horrified looks on their faces know it too.”
The Doctor looked in the direction she indicated, but only saw another man and woman as sedate as the other patrons. “Not them,” Rose said. “The ones at the back, with no view of the stage at all.”
Shifting his gaze a little, he realized what Rose meant; the two men at the small and rather badly-placed table near the kitchen doors looked unhappy, eyeing the other patrons nervously. “They know it’s not some silly game,” she said. “Not that I bought that idea for a minute. Anyway, even without them, something strange is definitely going on. These people would normally never put up with service this bad. Have you noticed there aren’t that many waiters?”
“So speaks the girl from the Powell Estates,” he teased, reaching out to lay his hand on hers where it rested on the table. “You’ve come a long way, Rose Tyler.”
The grin she gave him in return was cheeky. “Had to find something to do after you blew up my job.”
Impulsively, he leaned over to kiss her. He liked kissing her; kissing Rose was definitely one of the benefits of this life. Kissing Rose when they were in harmony with one another was even better.
“I say, sorry to bother you, but I just wanted to say good for you for stepping in to help.”
Reluctantly, the Doctor and Rose separated to consider the new arrival standing by their table. Another Englishman, expensively but not too fashionably dressed. “Sebastian Reginald-Brown,” the man said cheerfully. “Haven’t seen you around these parts before. Just arrived?”
“Here for the weekend,” Rose said, reaching for her cocktail. She was definitely going into Vitex heiress at a party mode: polite, friendly -- but not so friendly Sebastian Reginald-Brown might be encouraged to hang around.
Sebastian didn’t take the hint. “Good lord, you’re not going to actually drink that dreadful stuff? I know they’re all the rage here since Luigi got the new bartender, but I can’t stand them, personally. Let me order up a bottle of wine, thanks for a job well done.”
The Doctor was about to explain they’d been promised a bottle of wine but the cocktails had arrived instead when Rose nudged him in the ribs. “Our friends are paying their bill.”
The two men were indeed putting money down on the table, which meant the time to have a chat with them just outside the club was now. “Very lovely of you,” the Doctor said. “But have to to dash. Perhaps another time. Tea, maybe.”
He said it just to be polite, but Sebastian was nodding eagerly. “Splendid. Tea would be much better. Cafe Pia Rialto just off the piazza up here? Tomorrow at four?”
Both the Doctor and Rose muttered something non-committal, eyes firmly fixed on the two men. Something wasn’t quite right about them; the Doctor wasn’t sure what, but watching them disappear out of the entrance, he could feel that little tingle that always warned him when something was off.
They had almost made it out the door when they found their way blocked by the manager. “Surely you are not leaving so soon? The food is coming. Please, I must apologize for the waiters; if you will return your table, I will wait on you myself.”
“We, ah, remembered another appointment that we need to get to,” the Doctor said, craning his neck slightly to look over the man’s shoulder.
The manager’s face fell. “But you have not enjoyed our hospitality! I thought you said you wanted your readers to know where the finest entertainment was in the city.”
The Doctor was about to open his mouth to speak when Rose sweetly interjected. “And we do - but to be honest, Signori, I’m afraid your wait staff tonight is, shall we say, not very impressive? The wine never appeared and we received two cocktails we did not order.”
The manager frowned as the Doctor caught a glimpse of their quarry hailing a cab. “The cocktails are a specialty of the house; everyone is drinking them, but the wine-” He took a deep breath. “That is unacceptable. Please, if you would only stay, I assure you we will be, as you English say, at the top of our form. Your readers will know that the Club Moreli is the place to see and be seen when in Rome.”
He began to rain kisses on Rose’s hand and called her bella, but the Doctor grabbed Rose’s other hand and tugged her along with him out the door. “Have a care, will you?” Rose said once they were safely out of the man’s earshot. “I’ll break my neck in these heels if I’m not careful.”
The Doctor nodded, but didn’t really pay attention as he scanned the street. “There they are! Come on, Rose.”
With that, he was off like a shot, trusting that she would follow. The idea the men were up to something was only confirmed when they glanced back over their shoulders to catch sight of him, then began running themselves.
The main plazas of Rome might have been beautifully laid out, but once one was no longer on the main streets, the city turned into a rabbit’s warren of alleyways, side passages and unexpected dead ends. The Doctor followed them through three right turns, one left, down a flight of stairs, another left -- and found himself in a dead end that boasted the shuttered windows of an antique store given the sign and several doors, all of which were closed tight with no lights into the windows above them.
For just a moment, he considered knocking on each of the doors in turn, but he had a feeling that wouldn’t be well received and if he didn’t get things right on the first try, it’d only give them more time to get away.
Reluctantly, the Doctor began retracing his steps and found Rose waiting at the top of the stairs, shoes in hand. “Lose them?” she asked as he trudged up the steep stone steps to join her.
“Unfortunately, yes. They disappeared into a house and I didn’t know which one. You didn’t run all this way barefoot, did you?”
“No, but I was taking my shoes off when you came out. Wasn’t going to try running down those steps in these.”
He reached the top of the stairs as she put the shoes down. Reaching out a hand to steady herself on his shoulder, she stepped first into one, then the other. “Better?” he asked.
She turned to face him, suddenly much more on his eye level with the heels. “Mmm. Much.”
A short, sweet kiss in the Roman moonlight before they began to stroll back toward the TARDIS arm in arm. “I still say the club manager knows something,” the Doctor said as they walked. "I don't think he would have been so insistent we stay if he didn’t."
Rose shrugged. "I still think it’s because he thinks we're from a magazine." She gave him a sideways look. "Time Out? Really?"
The Doctor shrugged. "It's what I could think of at the moment. Unfortunately, his desire to grovel in order to mitigate what would have surely been one of the more spectacularly bad reviews of all time gave our quarry too much of a head start.”
"And no alien tech to track them?"
"Trust me, building something to track folks like that is going to the top of my list, right after finding out what's messing with the TARDIS.”
They made the final turn back onto the street where the club was located. The chase hadn’t covered a great distance at all, the Doctor realized, which meant the men might be findable again, even without the alien tech Rose always teased him about. “I do know something that could help, though; we'll meet the Honorable Sebastian Reginald-Brown for tea tomorrow, see what he knows."
Rose looked at him with a bit of surprise. "I didn’t think you were planning to accept that invitation."
"I wasn’t. Now, however, I think we should take full advantage of the fact he's part of this crowd and see what he knows. You can show off those Torchwood interrogation skills."
Rose laughed, only to have it turn into a bit of a squeal as a man brushed past her as he headed toward the piazza up ahead knocking her off balance. Instantly, the Doctor reached out to steady her. “Are you okay, Rose?”
“Yeah, fine. There’s a reason I don’t usually wear shoes like this; not really practical for what we do, are they?”
Reassured she wasn’t going to topple over, the Doctor couldn’t help doing a little teasing of his own. “That should put to rest any fantasies you have of Italian men being wonderfully courteous and fawning over women all the time.”
She gave a bit of a snort. “Please. I was convinced of that more than fifteen hundred years ago.” A pause and she looked after the man with a bit of a frown on her face. “I’m not sure he’s Italian, though.”
“Did you notice something?”
For a long moment, she continued to stare in the direction the man had gone, then shook her head. “It’s just a feeling. Come on; let’s get back to the TARDIS. My feet are killing me.”
# # #
By the time morning came, the diagnostic was still running and the Doctor didn’t seem happy with what he was seeing so far. It wasn’t that he said anything, but the way he frowned, peered at the screen, put on his glasses, then leaned forward to peer at the screen once again was a good indicator.
Leaning against the doorway to the control room, her robe tied loosely about her and a steaming cup of coffee nestled in her hands, Rose observed him silently. Something was wrong, but she wasn’t sure if he wasn’t telling her because he’d gone into one of his non-sharing modes or because he just didn’t know. In some ways, she’d prefer the former; she didn’t like to think about those things in the universe that stumped him completely. No, he didn’t have the air of the situation being a dangerous one and he wasn’t telling her because he wanted to protect her from whatever was about to eat the universe in one gulp. This was more like Mickey when he couldn’t figure out why a car wasn’t working.
Shifting the mug to grip the handle a bit more firmly, she reached out her other hand to stroke the wall closest her. Maybe her connection wasn’t quite what the Doctor’s was, but she couldn’t help feeling a bit proprietary toward the ship and hoped there wasn’t anything wrong the Doctor couldn’t fix. Getting home didn’t seem to be a question at the moment, though if things kept acting up, they might well end up earthbound for a while whether they liked it or not.
At the console, the Doctor gave a sigh and straightened. “Bob Charila - whoever the hell he is - is getting on my nerves.”
“You think us landing here is more of his doing?”
“I think the TARDIS going off course is his doing. If I could figure out how he’s doing it, I could come up with something to block the signal or whatever he’s using.” He joined her in the doorway and snagged her coffee mug for a quick sip, only to make a face.
“Sorry I don’t use enough sugar,” Rose said, taking the cup back. “So, no problem leaving when it’s time?”
“Shouldn’t be - might take us a few hops to get where we want to go if he’s still working the signal - but we can take off when needed. Don’t we have a mystery to solve first, though?”
“Right. The club, the well-behaved party goers and whatever information the Honorable Sebastian Reginald-Brown can give us. Are we sure he’s an Honorable?”
“Did you see that chin? Of course he’s an Honorable. The product of centuries of in-breeding. If we get dressed, we can go sightseeing until it’s time to meet him.”
An hour later, they emerged to discover a bright spring day, making Rose grateful she’d decided to bring the hat that went with the yellow shift she was wearing. She was also grateful the shoes that went with the outfit were flats, suitable for walking and much more suitable for running if necessary.
The Doctor gave her an appreciative once-over. “Another ‘just in case we have to go to a Vitex function’ outfit?”
“Mum told me she was planning a garden party, so I figured it was a good idea to have something on hand.”
“Just in case we land the TARDIS right in the middle of it?” He considered the idea for a moment, then nodded. “What am I supposed to do in that instance?”
“Try to sneak off to Dad’s study and avoid Mum because you know she’ll be annoyed and blame you. If I’m properly dressed, it might distract her for a few minutes.”
“And the hat?”
“Still appropriate for garden parties. Oh, and Ascot. They got rid of the Royals, but they didn’t get rid of the race.”
He frowned. “I’m trying to picture your mother at Ascot. It’s not working.”
“She hates it. Says everyone pretends they’re too good to cheer the horses on. If Mum bets on a horse, she’s going to give it encouragement. Still, she and Dad always take some Vitex clients every year. I’m not allowed to go; Mickey and I misbehaved the first time we went.”
“You giggled at a client’s hat?”
Rose nodded. “Ugliest thing you’ve ever seen - and I know you’ve seen some ugly things in your time.”
He laughed and offered her his arm. Rose happily took it, looking forward to at least some time spent simply exploring the city together as tourists, listening to the stories he had to spin. That the more entertained she seemed to be, the wilder the stories became hadn’t escaped her noticed. But strolling arm and arm with him through the streets of Rome, she couldn’t help thinking that this was the life she’d wanted and it was definitely better with two.
After a pleasant day of sight-seeing -- real, genuine, the-Earth’s-not-in-imminent-danger-of-destruction sightseeing -- they arrived early for their meeting at Café Pia Rialto, giving them a chance to survey the landscape. The café was half empty at the moment, what looked to be mostly tourists taking a break before a final round of sightseeing for the afternoon. Some things never change, Rose couldn’t help thinking. The women shop and the men look bored. That was something else she loved about the Doctor; wherever they were, he always looked on it as an adventure.
Seated at their table, enjoying the ice-chilled drinks the waiter (who was much more prompt than what they’d seen at the club last night) brought them, Rose allowed herself to relax. “Someone’s probably spiking the Campari with something,” she said. “Find out who, stop them, and we’ll be free to enjoy ourselves.”
The Doctor smiled and lifted his glass to her. “My Rose, ever the optimist. Really think it’s that easy? Sounds like something out of a bad Sixties spy film.”
“Should I start calling you ‘Mr. Bond,’ then?”
Before he could respond, a shadow fell over the table, the sun temporarily blocked by a man who seemed all too familiar. “Whose bright idea at Headquarters was this?” he demanded. “Tomlinson’s? I know he’s been looking for a reason to throw a wrench into the works, never mind that I’m already in exile.”
Rose and the Doctor stared at the man, not quite certain how to respond. “Well?” he demanded when they didn’t speak. “Right. I suppose you’re going to insist on the code phrase. ‘The dog walks softly through the snow.’ Now will you admit you’re part of Torchwood and tell me why you’re here?”