1x09 The Embers of Alexandria (7.2/7)
Title: The Embers of Alexandria (7.2/7)
Author: principia_coh
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Rose/Ten II
Summary: Waylaid en route to a holiday, the Doctor and Rose encounter unexpected wonders... and new dangers.
Author’s notes: Thanks to ginamak and leighleighla for their excellent and patient beta work! You two are rock stars!
Episode 9 of a virtual series at the_altverse, following The Wretched Hive last week.
Virtual Series Masterlist
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6.1 | Part 6.2 | Part 7.1
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The Doctor rolled his head a slow, light rhythm against the oaken planks behind his head, humming softly to himself.
Three coins in the fountain...
There was no question that he and his three-figured entourage would soon be arriving in Rome. Very, very soon. He’d been listening to the chatter from the marines on deck, been sensing it in Quintus’ mounting trepidation during the last few of his regular checks on the Doctor’s welfare.
The Doctor was fairly confident that any notions Quintus might have had about his supposed divinity had been completely extinguished by now. Over the past weeks Quintus had gone from a fearful resignation, to puzzlement as to how or why the Doctor hadn’t effected his escape, to pity as he came to the realisation that the Doctor couldn’t.
Quintus’ behaviour also betrayed a slight tendency towards seasickness. That, and that Quintus felt at least partly at fault for the Doctor’s capture and imprisonment. The Doctor had certainly had ample time on his hands to develop a few theories as to why Quintus might feel that way, but they ultimately didn’t matter. The responsibility for this situation was the Doctor’s alone. He’d gone to extraordinary lengths to see to that. Never mind collateral damage like Quintus or Caecilius-he hadn’t wanted his actions to even touch Rose.
Mission accomplished, by Jove.
No, if her spectacularly incompetent cretin of a husband gets himself killed, that won’t affect her at all.
These past weeks were the longest period he and Rose had spent apart since... well, a period of time he wanted to dwell on even less than the fate which he felt sure awaited him in Rome.
The length of their separation was only likely to get far, far longer, trending towards the permanent end of the spectrum.
Maybe, if he’d have let Rose stay...
The Doctor shook his head. No. He would not go down that path again.
He knew what would have happened to Rose if she’d stayed to help. He’d only just made it out alive as it was.
As for the TARDIS, he’d not imagined she’d get so damnably disobedient this early in her life. She should’ve taken Rose home weeks ago, but he swore he could still feel her young presence tickling at the edges of his consciousness, as though she were trying to comfort him. Or Rose. Or both.
No matter how long he’d spent trying to reach out, get a feel for exactly where the TARDIS (and therefore Rose) was, he couldn’t get a fix on her. They could still be in Alexandria, or in Londinium, or at the gates of Loyang for all he knew. Anywhere but where he’d meant them to be.
Or it could be that he was deluding himself into thinking he wasn’t alone. He was certainly able to speak the lingo with or without the TARDIS, a few odd declensions in this Earth’s version of Latin aside. He really didn’t have any prior experience in trying to ascertain whether the TARDIS was genuinely inside his head at any given moment. Maybe he should ask Rose how it felt for her.
That assumed, of course, that he was ever going to see her again.
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Quintus looked as though his world were going to come crashing down around him. The ostentatiously uniformed soldiers arrayed along the docks before them were trying to render him irrelevant, in front of rather a lot of his fellow troops from Alexandria.
The Doctor couldn’t believe he’d forgotten about the Praetorian Guard. More to the point, he couldn’t believe Quintus had. The Iuppiter’s centurion, Scribonius, certainly hadn’t. He’d been first off the ship and provided introductions (apparently the young mouthpiece was called Rutilius), and now stood watching, grim-faced, as Quintus tried to stand his ground against one of the Emperor’s own.
“But, sir, I was tasked with the care of this prisoner until his trial-” Quintus protested.
“We sincerely thank you for your service to the Empire,” Rutilius began, in a tone the Doctor associated with getting rid of someone’s pesky kid brother (or ex-boyfriend), “As you can see, we are more than prepared to handle the situation. We shall have no further need of your attendance to the prisoner.”
Rutilius gestured to the four burly guards who’d accompanied him. They stepped right around Quintus and seized the Doctor by the arms.
Apparently Quintus didn’t have to worry about being reprimanded for insubordination; it was as if he hadn’t even spoken at all.
Quintus didn’t look away from Rutilius for a second. “Sir, my orders are from the Prefect himself,” he asserted.
“You have demonstrated a maturity and steadfastness that is well beyond expectations, given your cohort,” Rutilius sneered, “You will be suitably rewarded, and provided passage back to Alexandria at a time of your choosing after the trial, with our highest commendations sent back to your superior officers. And I will be certain that the Prefect himself hears of how thorough you have been in the pursuit of your duties. Your services here are no longer required.”
Poor kid. Trumped by a fancier helmet.
The Alexandrian legionaries slowly withdrew, a few back to the ship, but most out into the streets of Ostia. The Doctor saw Scribonius lay a reassuring hand on Quintus’ shoulder as they walked away.
Rutilius smirked as he watched his supposed colleagues go.
“We haven’t got all day. Bring him here.”
The soldiers unceremoniously hauled the Doctor before Rutilius.
The Prefect of Alexandria had taken the Doctor to be at least one part of a grave threat to the Empire; this officious young legionary was looking at him with world-weary contempt. The Doctor wasn’t sure if it was that his alleged crime was taken rather less seriously here in Rome than it had been in Alexandria, or that Rutilius simply couldn’t fathom that the high-priority prisoner he’d been sent to collect was this skinny vagrant. The Doctor rather suspected the latter.
That he hadn’t had a proper bath or shave in a month didn’t help, but still. Bit wounding to the pride.
Another gesture, a quick snap of the head, and the goons were escorting him to what looked like another paddy wagon, although far larger and altogether more important-looking than either of his last two rides. The guards frog-marched him into the carriage, and pushed him down onto the rear bench.
He faced not only two of the guards, but another soldier, seemed to be another officer of some sort.
Rutilius followed close behind, climbing up into the cabin and sitting down stiffly next to the nameless officer without looking at the Doctor.
“So, Vipsanius, what do we know of the prisoner’s condition? Aside from the obvious?” Rutilius asked archly.
This Vipsanius reviewed a small scroll, one the Doctor had to presume had been sent ahead by carrier pigeon.
“In addition to the minor injuries sustained in the commission of his crime, he has further bruising-”
“Oh, is that all?” Rutilius tutted “Our Alexandrian friends seem to have forgot how to do their jobs properly.”
“-and... and multiple cracked or fractured ribs on both sides of the chest,” Vipsanius finished matter-of-factly.
Rutilius face formed into a predatory grin, and he cackled. “And here I thought poor Herennius was going to be bored.”
His glance finally landed on the Doctor, as if he’d realised only now he was being observed.
“Tarpeius, what did I tell you?” Rutilius barked.
The guard seated to Rutilius’ right sprung to his feet, muttering apologies. The steely arms of the guards flanking the Doctor held him back against the wall of the carriage, as Tarpeius stepped forward, his hands outstretched towards the Doctor, an empty sack clutched in his hand.
Tarpeius shoved the thick hood over the Doctor’s head, and the carriage descended into darkness.
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Rose stood quietly in the TARDIS, gathering her thoughts, and her courage. She leaned forward and lightly caressed the monitor before her. The Doctor was still alive, and where there was life, there was hope.
She smiled wistfully to herself, imagining the Doctor telling her all about whoever had first said that.
Rose knew the plan. It was a solid, but terrifying, prospect. One wrong turn, a few minutes’ delay, and the Doctor would be beyond the point of no return.
He did always say he was a no-second-chances sort of a man.
She’d done her best to prepare everyone for their parts, but in the end it came down to a matter of time.
All that was left now was to wait for word of the trial.
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Quintus could scarcely believe he was standing in court this day, the very next morning after their arrival in Rome. The speed with which the Doctor’s trial had commenced defied belief-he hadn’t been at liberty to send word to Evelina, much less leave the barracks to find out for himself whether Mother and Rose had made it to Rome safely.
Scribonius had warned him last night that things went differently in Rome these days, but Quintus had had no idea it would be this terrible.
No officials had taken the slightest interest in speaking to anyone who had actually been present in Alexandria, much less to anyone who was at the Library that night-neither he nor any of the soldiers or marines aboard the Jupiter had been asked to give evidence, even though they were all still in Ostia or Rome and many of them were here with him in the court.
The trial appeared to consist largely of numerous charges being read out against the Doctor and a line of the Emperor’s representatives and allies hinting heavily at the Senate’s likely involvement in the destruction of the noble institution that was the Library.
The Doctor was gagged and bound and under heavy guard-Quintus doubted if he’d be allowed so much as a word in his own defence.
Even if they let the man talk, what could he say?
Moreover, the Doctor looked... damaged far out of proportion to the amount and quality of information the Emperor’s interrogators hadn’t procured overnight. Quintus scowled. They must have taken out their aggravation on the Doctor, as they seemed to have no information for the Praetor about what had truly happened at the Library.
Quintus knew that if the Doctor had broken, he himself would be facing judgment alongside the Doctor now.
As the string of “witnesses” continued, Quintus felt certain that there had never been any intention of finding the parties actually responsible for the Library’s destruction. These supposed men of honour were using the Doctor as an instrument for the public vilification of the Emperor’s enemies.
Quintus wondered what would have happened if his fellow guards hadn’t found the Doctor that night-would the Prefect have simply picked someone or someones to take this blame, to face the sword?
The presence of his fellow soldiers thinned as the day went on, many of them tiring of the unreal spectacle, but Quintus would not go. He might not be in a position to help the Doctor now, but he would not leave him to hear the verdict and sentencing alone.
And then, if she were here in Rome, Quintus would bear the news to Rose himself. He owed them that much.
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This was a particularly bright, sunny day for late October, even for Rome. Perfect weather for seeing a few of her sights up close and personal, even if it were on the way to one’s own execution.
The Doctor’s split, cracked lips curled upward. Donna would tell him he’d got what he wished for. Visiting the Colosseum at last, even if it was in irons.
He’d been questioned more than once in his day, by some of the best on offer in any Empire throughout the whole of time and space, but that was... before. He was sure he hadn’t realised before quite how human the metacrisis really had left him. There was a dreadful efficiency in being tortured by someone who had the proverbial owner’s manual. No random pokes and prods, just damage and pain-straight, no chaser.
One side effect, besides the induced pleurisy he wouldn’t have to tolerate for much longer, was that he wasn’t quite up to maintaining the brisk pace of the procession. He stumbled and lurched along the lane, at times nearly being dragged by the guards.
He looked despondently into the teeming, jeering crowds lining the path he now trod between the prison and the site of his eventual doom. Was that Maro he’d seen just there? No, couldn’t have been.
So terribly rude that they wouldn’t even tell him the method of his execution. The “court” had certainly held him to be a citizen, so he should be looking forward to a beheading, but with this lot he expected something much more creative.
All Domitian’s horses and all Domitian’s men wouldn’t be able to put Doctor together again.
The guards in front of the Doctor came to an abrupt standstill, forming a rather effective wall into which the Doctor collided. He staggered backwards, then slumped slowly to the ground. He could feel the guards to his rear bellowing at him to get up, at the guards to the front of him about why they’d stopped. They cuffed at his shoulders with the butts of their spears, but he couldn’t muster the strength to stand. He thought he heard the sound of hoofbeats growing closer, but that was probably just the mounted guards at the front of this jolly parade coming back to check on the holdup.
The Doctor looked blearily up into the faces of the surrounding mob.
Not possible.
He thought he could see Rose in the crowd, hands held before her mouth as if in prayer. Prayer for his soul, the only part of him that might be close to immortal now?
He didn’t know she had it in her.
But he was wrong. He had to be. She couldn’t be here. She couldn’t be here to have to watch him die.
This wasn’t what I promised you. I’m sorry, Rose.
The guards behind him had gone curiously quiet, and the crowd had too. Or maybe all the blood rushing in his ears was making him deaf to their taunts.
No, not deaf. He could hear the crowd’s expressions of astonishment.
He was astonished too. None of the guards had yet run him through for his stalling.
He heard one or two of them exclaim under their breath.
An soft, untroubled female voice sounded from somewhere ahead. “I would see him. Now.”
Maybe it belonged to the owner of the billowing skirts he saw moving towards the guards to his fore. They slowly parted like the Red Sea.
The skirt-owner came to a halt directly in front of him.
“It’s alright,” she said placidly, “You may look at me. Please do.”
The Doctor looked up, blinking to clear the shock of sunlight from his eyes. The gauzy figure above him slowly came into focus, her mild expression becoming ever clearer as she searched his face.
It was Evelina, Caecilius’ Evelina. Whatever she was looking for, she seemed satisfied, and lightly ran her fingers across his hair and face, careful to avoid his most obvious wounds.
If there had been a pin dropping anywhere in the city of Rome at that moment, the Doctor was sure he would have heard it. The mob faded away from him, and the guards seemed paralysed, unsure of what to do.
Evelina stood up straight and folded her hands together, waiting patiently. “Shall I help this man up myself?”
The Doctor heard spears clattering as they hit the stone streets behind him. The guards who had only just been striking him were practically tripping over one another to help him to his feet.
Was this how it was going to end? Had he gone mad?
No, the vise-like grip on his arms was no hallucination. Once on his feet, he looked to each of them, and they let him go, jerking back as if they’d been given a jolt by a cattle prod.
One of the guards from the fore of the procession came to him, his face drawn, and began undoing the fetters at his wrists. He set those aside, then undid the pair around the Doctor’s ankles, finally withdrawing to stand at his side.
“What,” he started throatily, “What’s going on?”
Evelina continued gazing at him serenely.
“You have received the pardon of Vesta herself,” responded the guard who’d removed his chains, “You are a free man.”
He looked incredulously to all the people surrounding him (not nearly so close now), then back to Evelina.
“Whatever you have done,” she said in a dulcet tone, “Whatever you have not done, it is forgiven. You may go.”
She cast her eye over the Praetorians still surrounding him, albeit at a distance. They shuffled out of his way, and he took one step forward, then another. No-one was moving to stop him.
He bowed slowly, painfully before Evelina. “Thank you.”
As he stood she rewarded him with the barest hint of a smile. Then she turned, and walked back to her ornately carved carriage. Her coachman helped her inside, and then they were on their way.
The remaining guards marched past him stiffly, in stunned silence. He could hear a wave of cautious, fascinated chatter starting to filter through the people still lining the avenue. Some of them were beginning to make their way towards him, slowly-but unmistakably towards him.
The Doctor felt a sudden firm grip on his left shoulder. He heard a familiar, gruff voice in his ear. “Doctor Spartacus,” Scribonius muttered, “It would be best if you got off of the streets. Do you have anywhere to go?”
And then the most wonderful, beloved voice of all rang out from the encroaching crowd.
“I think I can take care of him, sir.”
Rose. Home.
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The Doctor spun to face her, looking for all the world like he didn’t trust the sight in front of his eyes. That was alright, she wasn’t sure she did either.
Rose slipped the cloak’s hood back from her head.
“It’s me,” she told him, nodding emphatically.
The Doctor could barely walk forward, so she came to him, enfolding him gently in her arms. She felt him tremble, then begin to shudder as he buried his face in the folds of her robe. But there were no tears, not from either of them. Not here, not yet.
The middle-aged soldier, who the Doctor seemed to know, stepped away a bit and kept a watchful eye on her and the people nearby.
Maro signalled from behind the soldier. The carriage was here.
“I believe our chariot has arrived. Well, not a real chariot, but that’ll have to keep. Can you make it there?”
“Yes,” the Doctor said hoarsely, wincing as he spoke.
“If you require assistance, Mrs Spartacus...” the soldier ventured.
“Thank you, but I imagine you probably shouldn’t be seen speaking to us,” Rose replied frankly.
The unnamed soldier bowed his head and withdrew, blending back in with the other spectators as Rose put a cloak over the Doctor’s shoulders. She and Maro guided the Doctor back to the carriage, parked a few alleys away. It was slow going; whoever had had a go at him clearly enjoyed their work.
It took both Maro and Fusus to help her get the Doctor into the cabin of the carriage without hurting him further.
Rose and Fusus got the Doctor settled among the cushions they’d brought to protect him from the jars and jolts of travelling the Roman streets. She sat next to him, and he nestled into her bonelessly with a soft whimper, clearly in pain but past caring for the moment.
She smiled gratefully at Fusus, who grunted and turned his attention to the sights out of the carriage window as Maro got them underway. Rose planted kisses on the crown of the Doctor’s head, muttering reassurances to him. She brought her free hand up to stroke through his hair, possibly the only part of him that didn’t hurt right now.
Rose’s instincts screamed at her to wrap the Doctor up and take him home and never see or speak of this place again, but she didn’t think either of them were up to travelling today, or possibly for a while yet. Besides, after all this family had risked for her and the Doctor, she wasn’t going to just swan off and leave them behind.
Not unless the TARDIS’ readouts told her he needed to be taken back to the modern era for medical treatment, and she hoped in the weeks she’d spent coming to a seeming understanding with the TARDIS that the ship wouldn’t withhold that kind of information from her, no matter what the Doctor ordered. She was sure as hell going to take him for a proper examination when they got back, regardless.
Rose also knew seeing him like this, so broken, she couldn’t say the things she needed to say. Not yet.
As the carriage continued towards the villa, she felt the Doctor’s hitched breathing slow and settle into a calm rhythm.
Rose snorted, and gave the Doctor as much of a squeeze as she dared.
He’d fallen asleep.
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Rose slowly pushed herself up on the daybed and stretched, tugging lightly at her hair. She blinked the sleep from her eyes and looked over at the still-sleeping form of the Doctor. From the dimness of the light, Rose could tell it was still very, very early and she’d best be as quiet as possible. Sound travelled like mad in this place.
Rose padded the few steps to the Doctor’s bed, and reached over to brush the Doctor’s fringe back from his forehead.
He still didn’t stir. Day number three now.
Of course the Doctor hadn’t just fallen asleep in the carriage-why would anything ever be that simple for them? The moment he’d felt safe, he’d slipped straight into a healing trance, and couldn’t be woken until his body was good and ready to let him up. Not that Rose had known that until she’d checked with the TARDIS.
The Doctor had bloody near given her and everyone else heart attacks. Rose had scared Metella nearly half to death when she’d come flying into the house without so much as a knock, desperate for a litter or cot or even just some sheets to sling under the Doctor as they’d brought his limp form in from the carriage.
Whether this days-long coma was TARDIS-assisted (or even induced by her), Rose couldn’t tell, but all the scans indicated it was mending the Doctor’s rather significant internal injuries.
Rose placed her hand on his chest and felt the very slow, but steady, beat of his heart. She found herself thinking again, as she had over the past few days, about striped jim-jams and the first time she’d heard the Doctor with a single heartbeat.
She yawned and lay carefully down at the Doctor’s side, content to watch the slow rise and fall of his chest. Rose let the soft sounds of his easy breathing lull her back to sleep.
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The Doctor sat bolt upright, inhaling in strong, painless gasps.
Rose. Where was his golden girl?
He was definitely alone in the room, and in bed... or on a lectus, at any rate. Still in Rome, then. Or thereabouts.
He could still feel a bit of tightness on his face, along the bridge of his nose and a few other places where his surface wounds remained, but other than those he certainly felt like he was better.
The Doctor smacked his lips, which in retrospect wasn’t such a good idea. Still a split lip then.
His mouth tasted seriously awful, but he’d definitely been bathed and changed while he was asleep. By Rose, from the looks of it. He was wearing one of his vests and pair of his loose plaid pyjama bottoms. Not exactly Roman-issue sleepwear.
He took a deep whiff of the vest, and there it was, the faintest hint of Rose’s scent, too strong for her just to have dressed him. He leaned back down and sniffed his pillow to confirm. Rose had been here curled up against him, at some point fairly recently. Even after all he’d put her through.
He was quite certain it would be impossible to quantify just how much he loved Rose Tyler.
The Doctor could hear the sounds of a half-empty household at work, and wondered exactly where he was, other than the obvious answers of “not prison,” “not dead,” and “not with Rose.”
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and waggled them about experimentally. Good a time as any to give the getaway sticks a testing.
He heard a slow affectionate wheeze over his shoulder, and smiled.
“Oh, hello.”
The Doctor stood and ambled carefully over to the TARDIS. He gave her a few strokes for good measure as he looked her up and down. “And how have you been looking after Rose, you wilful little ship of mine?”
“I think you mean ours, don’t you, Doctor?”
He whirled around to see Rose standing in the doorway, offering him a sweet, if melancholy, smile. He couldn’t help the ear-splitting grin that broke out across his face. Before he could even step forward, Rose dashed across the room and into his arms. She took his face in both hands and planted soft, tender kisses on each of his remaining wounds, finally brushing the lightest of kisses across his mouth.
The Doctor brushed his nose against Rose’s cheeks, murmuring against her lips in between kisses. “‘Course. Ours. ‘S no better way to travel.”
Rose sobbed and tightened her grasp on his face, pulling him in for a long, slow, deep kiss.
She eventually pulled back, sniffling, and looked over every inch of his face consideringly. “You really need to brush.”
“Oi!”
Rose hooted, and pulled him into a tight, squishy hug. He rocked her back and forth, mumbling quiet words of comfort as she tried very hard not to cry on him.
Oh, Rose.
Rose was here, the universe hadn’t imploded, and he was in one piece, more or less.
Everything was going to be just fine.
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Rose settled back into the couch, content to watch the Doctor chat with Quintus about changing his career path while they all lingered over this very long afternoon meal.
She and the Doctor hadn’t openly discussed it yet, but Rose felt that ought to be the last meal they’d share with the Caecilius family. They needed to let these people get on with their lives.
The Doctor, naturally, was talking around a mouthful of food and gesturing animatedly as he counselled Quintus on his future options. “Yeah, you’ve got about another 20 years in the service, but there’s no reason you couldn’t start your medical training now.”
Metella seemed to be having a hard time not smiling as the Doctor picked up a stuffed olive to illustrate a point before popping it into his mouth. It seemed everyone was having a jolly time of it-except for her.
Rose felt another white-hot flash of anger and closed her eyes. She hadn’t wanted to think about it while the Doctor was still healing up, but if were completely honest with herself, she was damn near as angry at the Doctor as she was at the men who had hurt him. This hadn’t had to happen.
It didn’t help her state of mind that the Doctor still looked like he’d been in a serious car crash recently. Rose had to admit it was probably just as well; if he’d healed up completely, it might’ve got Metella or the staff started back up about his alleged godhood.
Rose let out a gust of breath and opened her eyes to see Metella watching her with motherly concern. She gave Metella a reassuring smile, and they went back to sipping their drinks and watching the Doctor and Quintus confab.
Not that either of the men had really quit munching; ever since the Doctor had woken up two days ago, he’d been merrily plowing through any food they could put in front of him.
Almost any food. He’d looked at the pears stewed in honey like they were going to lurch up out of the bowl and attack him. Today he’d made sure that particular bowl was the possible furthest distance from him it could be and not be off the table altogether.
If a raving case of the munchies was the cost of the Doctor being well and whole again, then so be it.
“He’s so much like his father,” Metella volunteered out of the blue, as the conversation between Quintus and the Doctor dwindled and the men resumed their noshing in earnest.
Rose chuckled. “Would either of them believe you if you told them that?”
Metella laughed. “Oh, I doubt it. But I do see the resemblance, very much.”
“You miss him a lot, don’t you?”
“Our current separation is hardly anything compared to what you and the Doctor have been through,” Metella replied, “but this is indeed the longest that Lobus and I have been apart since we were wed. If only I could know how he’s faring, how matters are proceeding at home.”
Metella sighed heavily. “Oh, pay me no heed.”
Rose caught the Doctor’s sudden interest out of the corner of her eye. He took a long sip of his beverage, watching Metella with keen attentiveness.
“It’s okay, go on,” Rose said encouragingly.
“Seeing Evelina, how she’s grown into her role as a full priestess, the quality of her mercy... I do wish they could see one another again.”
“I know Lobus’ work keeps him busy, but couldn’t Evelina pay a visit?”
Even Licina, who was busy tidying the room, froze on the spot.
The Doctor smiled thinly. “Rose, Evelina can never leave Rome. Not before she has fulfilled her duties to the College, and even then, unless she specifically removes herself from the priesthood, she will have to stay within the city for the rest of her life.”
Trapped in one place forever, no matter how privileged an existence it meant... now that was something Rose knew first-hand that she couldn’t bear.
The Doctor plonked down his goblet with a definitive thump. “I’ll tell you what, Metella. If Mohammed can’t come to the mountain, the mountain will come to Mohammed. Or Evelina.”
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Rose looked positively gobsmacked at his offer, but what could he say, he was feeling his oats today. Events had lost their grip on him and Rose, and they were free to go wherever and whenever they pleased.
The Caecilii household (Rome division) was bustling with life, the servants were happy, even Evelina had seemed to relish the opportunity to hang about, be Evelina for a while and not just one of the venerated Vestales. Quintus seemed to be back on an even keel. That left Metella with the short end of the stick, and that would not do.
As tempting as the idea was, the Doctor knew he couldn’t just whisk the whole lot back to Alexandria. Quintus was expected to return home on board the Iuppiter, once it had been restocked, and Metella couldn’t just vanish without an explanation. At the very least, the merchants who had brought her here in the first place knew when she and her share of the household had got to Rome. No, they’d all have to go home the old-fashioned way.
But as for Caecilius, he and Metella had both already seen the inside of the TARDIS. And Caecilius had seen even more, in the lab. What harm could one short trip do?
Besides, the quick flight would do the TARDIS good, give her the chance to stretch her proverbial wings before he put her through any heavier-duty travelling.
The Doctor beamed at the very confused people surrounding him and stood up from his seat. “C’mon Rose, shall we?”
“Doctor,” Rose said warningly from her seat, “We can’t just...” She made the cutest little POOF gesture with her hands.
He looked down at his suit and frowned. “Too right!” He plucked the napkin he’d had tucked into his shirt out and dropped it on the table. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, and looked back and forth between Quintus and Metella. “You should get a hold of Evelina, let her know there’s someone coming she’ll want to see.”
The Doctor scampered out of the room, making quickly for the TARDIS while everyone followed him like a bunch of kids pursuing an ice-cream van.
“But where, where are you going?” Metella asked, utterly baffled.
“Like I said,” the Doctor explained as he fished out his TARDIS key, “off to see the marble man. Not exactly on Drury Lane, but I think we can find him well enough. Let’s see, if you sent Maro now, then it’d take...”
The Doctor hemmed and hawed, did a bit of calculating on his fingers, then decided it didn’t really matter. Should be a doddle.
“Anyway, one Lobus Caecilius Iucundus coming right up!”
He flitted into the TARDIS, and Rose trailed after him, still looking at him like he was Dom Joly and she was wondering where the hidden camera was.
He stopped short on the entry ramp. He guessed he hadn’t registered quite how dominating his collection of rescues from the Library’s stacks would be.
“Doctor,” she began slowly, “are you absolutely sure you’re up to flying the TARDIS?”
“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”
The Doctor circled around the console and took the TARDIS’ monitor into his hands properly for the first time in far too long, and promptly began tapping away.
Wait a mo. Since when had that screen been in English?
“What’s the matter?” Rose asked the Doctor, slightly overenunciating.
“Hmm? What? Nothing, just, um, nothing.”
“You’ve got a face like a cat’s arse. Is there a problem?”
“What a disturbingly vivid and disgusting turn of phrase, Rose Tyler. Cat’s arse. Really?”
“That’s as may be,” Rose replied smoothly as she strode up the ramp towards him, “but you still haven’t answered my question.”
Oh.
“I, erm, I wasn’t expecting to see these particular readouts in English.”
“Fancy that.”
He could see on the monitor that a small gathering had formed around the TARDIS. Metella was carefully pulling Quintus back from the doors and saying something in his ear.
“I just didn’t remember getting around to translating them yet, that’s all.”
Rose let out a sceptical noise and moved around to her usual co-pilot’s spot. The Doctor contemplated the sight of his wife at the dials, by his side, just as it should be.
Oh, that is better.
Metella was now guiding the other members of the household away like a goose herding her goslings.
“That’s everyone clear, then. Right, off we go!”
********************************************************************
Lobus was seated in his study, going over receipts for the last several weeks’ requisitions from the quarries scattered up and down the Nile. This business of rebuilding the Library was going to be a costly one, but the Prefect would settle for nothing less than a complete restoration.
Restoring the buildings would be the easy part. A few of the staff had had manuscripts in their quarters for one reason or another, but otherwise the Library was starting over from almost nothing. The call had gone out across the Empire for copies of works to be sent to restore the Library’s collection, but it was likely there were countless tomes that would never be replaced, not to mention the priceless originals she’d once held.
Lobus glanced briefly at the snack Dorsuo had brought for him. The remaining staff were doing their best to meet his needs while Metella was gone, but nothing tasted quite as good without her here.
He missed Metella deeply. He’d hoped to have heard some news from Rome by now, but perhaps under these circumstances, no news was preferable. It would be remarkably difficult for any of the family to communicate anything specific without drawing unwanted (and possibly official) attention.
He missed Quintus too, of course, but his son was practically his own man now, and it was long since Evelina had ceased to be his little girl.
Dash it all, if it was going to continue being this expensive to source limestone from the local quarries, they might have to-
What in the world was that noise? A pack of hyenas?
Lobus pushed away from his desk and stood quickly. He’d better investigate. If some merchant in the wildlife trade had let his stock get loose and go running through the city...
He nearly collided with Dorsuo in the hall. “Master! The blue box, Doctor and Mrs Spartacus’ blue box...”
Dorsuo raced back down the hall, Lobus right behind him.
He followed Dorsuo out into the courtyard. Just as he’d said, the Doctor and Rose’s blue temple was here. But how...?
Tuditanus came hustling out of the back, tools still in hand, and put himself between Lobus and the box.
After a moment, the door creaked open, and out came the Doctor, followed immediately by Rose!
A temple that moved on its own? Whatever the Doctor protests, he was clearly a man of power indeed.
“Doctor, Rose,” Lobus stammered, bowing “It is truly an honour to see you both again.”
“Oh, Caecilius, you know that’s not necessary,” the Doctor responded warmly, cracking a smile.
Lobus snapped back up straight. “No, of course, you’re right,” he replied, “How are you? Both of you?”
“Getting better, thanks,” Rose answered. Her fingers were twined with the Doctor’s, and she herself looked as though she couldn’t quite believe they were here.
“Oh, that’s splendid. How, I ask, may we serve you?”
The Doctor snorted. “Serve us? Caecilius, sir, we are here to serve you.”
Lobus looked to Rose, then to the Doctor, then back to Rose. “Serve me? I don’t understand.”
“I’ll bet right about now that you’re missing Metella something fierce,” the Doctor offered.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, but what of it? Is she... with you?”
“Oh, no, ‘m afraid not. Couldn’t exactly have her just popping back from Rome. People would ask the kind of questions you probably wouldn’t want to have to answer.”
The Doctor tugged on one ear and looked around the courtyard as though he were searching for something.
“So you’ve come to bring me her greeting, then? How is she? Is she well?”
“I could just up and tell you, that’d be easy. Wouldn’t you much rather ask her yourself?”
What a strange question.
“Yes,” Lobus said slowly, “Seeing Metella in the flesh would certainly be my preference.”
“She misses you too,” Rose offered sweetly.
Lobus supposed he oughtn’t find that quite so gratifying, but he found himself blushing. “And the children? My son, and daughter, that is, if you’ve had occasion to meet her.”
“Oh, believe you me, Caecilius,” the Doctor said gravely, “Evelina is a life-saver.”
“You’d be really proud of her,” Rose added.
“That’s lovely to hear. I shouldn’t be surprised, she was always such a sensitive child, so attuned to the others around her.”
“That’s all well and good, Caecilius, but instead of taking our word for it, wouldn’t you rather see how everyone’s doing?”
That was the second time the Doctor had asked him... surely, he couldn’t mean...
“Do you, do you mean to say you would take me to Rome to see my family? In your temple?”
“Bingo! And it’s not a temple, she’s the TARDIS.”
The Doctor glanced at Rose rather significantly. “Although I suspect you already knew that.”
Rose stood her ground and virtually dared her husband to say anything. Lobus knew that particular look all too well.
“I would most dearly love to,” Lobus averred, “but I’m afraid I have far too much work to do here. To leave on a trip to Rome now would be not be possible.”
The Doctor rocked forward on the balls of his feet. “Not only is it possible, my good man, it’s very probable. Almost guaranteed. A certainty.”
Rose smiled. “We can take you there and have you back in time for supper. We promise.”
Lobus could scarcely believe his ears; Dorsuo and Tuditanus looked dumbfounded.
“You’ve done so much for us,” Rose continued, “Will you let us do this for you? Please?”
“Yes, I believe that I shall,” Lobus answered shakily, bowing.
“Now, none of that,” the Doctor warned him playfully.
Rose and the Doctor alike were beaming at him, as if he were the most important thing happening in their remarkable lives. They wanted nothing in return, not even adulation.
“C’mon,” Rose said, reaching out to him, “Sooner we get there, sooner you can see your family.”
Lobus glanced at Dorsuo and Tuditanus. Surely they deserved as many thanks in these matters as him.
“I’ll be sure to care for the house in your absence, sir,” Dorsuo offered, bowing to him.
“We’re going to Rome, Dorsuo, not the New Magellanic Cluster,” the Doctor remarked, “We should have him back in time for the evening meal.”
Dorsuo started to bow, then remembered the Doctor’s preference. He and Tuditanus excused themselves and headed into the house.
If Lobus didn’t go now, he knew he’d lose his nerve.
“Shall we?” he quipped.
The Doctor’s face lit up, and he and Rose stepped aside in invitation. “We shall indeed!”
Lobus passed once more over the threshold of the wonder and allowed Rose to guide him to an odd bench next to their altar.
The Doctor grasped a strange lever and turned to smile broadly at him. “Next stop, the Eternal City!”
********************************************************************
Maybe he should’ve thought about that nickname before he sprung it on poor Lobus.
Rose looked around from the opposite side of the console to see that Lobus had a white-knuckled death grip on the sides of the captain’s chair, even though you could barely tell the TARDIS was moving at all.
Poor man probably thought he was going to his eternal reward.
Not a moment later, the TARDIS rematerialised in exactly the spot they’d departed from.
“Oh, well done, you!” the Doctor cooed at the TARDIS, giving the central column a couple of affectionate pats.
Lobus looked even more confused and even more reluctant to ask than he might normally be. “We’re there? I mean, we’ve arrived?”
The Doctor looked up from the monitor and nodded at her sagely.
“How about you take a look for yourself?” Rose said delightedly.
Rose led the way down the ramp, and the Doctor ambled down the ramp behind her. Lobus made his way down the ramp behind them both, one foot in front of the other.
The Doctor slipped around Rose to open the doors back into the guest bedroom and poked his around the one opened door.
“Oh, huh,” he muttered quizzically, “Hello all. Didn’t expect you to, well, still be standing here.”
He scratched his head and walked out into the room, and Rose followed. True to what he’d said, Metella and company were all still standing... exactly where they’d left them, blinking from the breezes produced by the dematerialisation.
Rose moved to the side of the TARDIS doors and gestured at the doors like a game show hostesss. “Ta-dah!”
Lobus had barely stepped out of the TARDIS before Metella had leapt on him and gripped him in a bear hug.
Quintus was staring, stunned at the scene of his parents reunited, and the staff erupted into spontaneous applause.
“Thank yaw,” the Doctor chirped.
Rose tiptoed over to Quintus and Maro. “I don’t suppose you’ve had time to call on Evelina?”
“But, but you were just here,” Quintus gasped.
“So that would be a ‘no.’”
Before Quintus could respond, Maro’s ears seemed to perk up and he hotfooted it out of the room. A moment later, everyone heard the unmistakable sound of someone knocking at the front entrance, and then Maro’s muffled voice as he answered the door.
Metella and Lobus didn’t seem to have even noticed, bless their hearts. They were nuzzling against each other like a couple of teenagers, and Quintus was looking anywhere but at his parents.
Maro returned just a moment later, walking at an almost stately pace. “Announcing-”
“Oh, Maro, I’ve told you before, you don’t need to announce me here.”
Metella jumped out of Lobus’ arms and moved out of the way so he could have a clear view of his daughter.
Evelina glided into the room, all white linen and grace. The woman’s timing was uncanny. The Doctor looked even more blown away than Rose felt.
“I wanted to check on the Doctor’s progress, see if there was-Father?”
Lobus was close to tears. Had he not thought he’d ever see his daughter again?
“Yes, Evelina, I’m here.”
Evelina looked to Rose in amazement and gratitude, and then to the Doctor. She had the look of someone who had a million things to say, but she kept them to herself. She gave the Doctor a Mona Lisa smile as she passed him on the way to her mum and dad’s open arms.
********************************************************************
The next several hours passed by quickly in a whirlwind of thank yous and happy reunions and plans for the future near- and long-term.
But the evening was wearing on, and if they couldn’t just up and bring Metella and Quintus home, they absolutely couldn’t just whisk Caecilius away and not get him right back where he’d started.
Metella, ever the on-point hostess, had already begun the farewells. She knew as well as they did that Lobus needed to get back to Alexandria before he would be missed.
For that matter, Evelina couldn’t go AWL from the Vestal College without triggering a citywide emergency, and she’d already made arrangements to be picked back up by her coachman.
Evelina urged Quintus over, and the family met in a group hug.
Rose felt like she could use one of those herself right about now. It was a sure sign that it was time to go home.
********************************************************************
It was clear to the Doctor, that Caecilius truly did still care for Evelina as his child, even though she’d been removed from the household at such a young age. Anyone could see he was proud to bursting of her.
The Doctor watched Rose taking in the close family scene, then joining Quintus, Evelina, and even the servants for rounds of hugs and goodbyes.
Reminds me of another father-daughter pair I know.
Caecilius and Metella ducked out, no doubt to have a private au revoir of their own.
The Doctor continued taking in the proceedings, not wanting to interrupt any important family moments. They’d all be here for each other long after he and Rose were gone.
And then he realised someone was observing him. Evelina was looking at him with a warm surety, as if she knew she’d done the right thing in setting him free. She smiled cryptically and made her way over to him.
“Doctor.”
“Your grace.”
She arched an eyebrow at him. “I owe you my thanks.”
“What?”
“My thanks, for making this possible. And it’s Evelina. Please.”
She waved her arm to indicate the scene playing out before them.
“Oh, Evelina, it’s you I owe thanks,” the Doctor said incredulously.
Evelina eyed him. “There are many others you owe thanks, and apologies.”
“Yes, I know,” he admitted ruefully, “Guess I’d better get started on that, then.” He pushed himself away from the wall and headed off to join the fray.
“You might wish to start with your wife,” she added serenely.
The Doctor’s back stiffened, and he turned on Evelina. “I beg your pardon?” he barked, barely able to keep quiet enough to avoid attracting attention.
“You should never have put her in that position,” Evelina continued, smooth as silk, “and I pray that you never will again, for both your sakes.”
“With all due respect, your grace, I don’t know that it’s any of your business.”
“You know that I’m right, or are at least forming an awareness that you should know. You would not be so upset with me, or yourself, otherwise. But in the end, mine is not the opinion that should concern you.”
The Doctor could feel his face heating, and he thought they were starting to get looks from the Maro and the other household staff.
“I don’t wish to part on bad terms, Doctor. I think you and Rose are more important than even my mother believes you to be.”
For heaven’s... “Evelina, we’re not-”
“I know, you’re not gods. That may be precisely why you’re so very important. And why you must be very, very careful, both out in the world and with each other.”
The Doctor sighed, and offered a handshake to Evelina. She accepted it and shook firmly, and they went back to keeping an eye on the room.
A few moments later, Caecilius and Metella returned, Metella carefully adjusting her headband.
Evelina smiled at the Doctor again and went to say her last quick farewell to her father.
Rose joined the Doctor at the wall. “So, you’re quiet.”
“I’ve said goodbye to everyone properly,” he protested, “Gave Quintus a hug and everything.”
“This is the part you always used to have us skip out on,” Rose countered.
“Well, sometimes staying is the right thing to do,” he sniffed.
Rose sighed and closed her eyes as she leant back against the wall, and reached for his hand.
After a few more minutes of leave-taking and taking a few scrolls of notes from Metella about matters back at the house, Caecilius was ready to go.
Hand-in-hand, the Doctor and Rose made their way back to the TARDIS. Metella and Caecilius were here, and she was giving him another last minute instruction.
“And don’t forget we’re going to need to order that now if we want it to come in before winter closes their port.”
“Yes, my love, of course.”
Caecilius planted one last kiss on his wife’s lips, and went inside.
The Doctor was nearly jerked off his feet by Metella, who brought him and Rose in for another bone-crusher. If his ribs hadn’t mended completely, he certainly would’ve known it by now.
Metella gave Rose a kiss on the cheek, and with that Rose headed into the TARDIS. It really was time to go.
“Goodbye Metella, Evelina, Quintus, all of you. Thank you.”
The Doctor bounded up to the console and began dialling her up for the return trip.
Caecilius seemed rather more comfortable this time. He still didn’t try to nose around about what they were doing, but he sat comfortably on the captain’s chair and patiently awaited their arrival in his home.
He didn’t have long to wait; a same-time arrival across not even two thousand miles was almost nothing to the TARDIS.
And once again, the kid came through. A bit late for supper, but the same time they’d left Rome more or less.
As they landed, the Doctor saw on the monitor that Dorsuo and Tuditanus were back out in the peristyle, waiting patiently for their master’s return.
Caecilius had stood and was adjusting his tunic. The Doctor swivelled the monitor away; the last thing he needed to do was introduce Caecilius to the telly.
“Are we back in Alexandria, then?” Caecilius asked.
“We most certainly are. You ready to go?”
Caecilius was taking one last long look around the console room. “Yes, I think I am.”
They exited the TARDIS, this time with Rose bringing up the rear.
Dorsuo and Tuditanus looked thoroughly relieved to see Caecilius back and in one piece. Rose, of course, went to give the two men hugs.
“So I take it this is our final goodbye, then?” Caecilius asked, watching Rose with some bemusement.
“I’m afraid it is,” the Doctor answered.
“I know it was not easy, what you had to do, not one part of it. So I will say thank you, though I cannot hope to understand the reasons why, and even if no-one else will.”
Caecilius shook the Doctor’s hand firmly.
“It’s been my honour, Caecilius.”
“The honour is mine, Doctor. And for goodness’ sake, you can call me Lobus.”
“Alright, then, Lobus, you take care of yourself,” the Doctor chuckled.
Rose gave Lobus a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Goodbye, Lobus.”
“Goodbye, Rose. Safe journeys to you both.”
The Doctor guided Rose into the TARDIS with his hand at the small of her back. Time to get this show on the road.
********************************************************************
Hmm. That was odd. Out here in the courtyard, the heralding sound of the Spartacus’ temple didn’t sound so much like hyenas as it did camels. It kicked up a bit of a breeze as well.
Lobus stood alongside Dorsuo and Tuditanus as they all watched the temple dissolve into the air with a flash of lights.
That was that, then. Lobus wasn’t sure if any days of his life would ever qualify as normal again, but at least he knew he’d have Metella back as soon as a ship could take her.
“I do hope you didn’t keep supper for me,” Lobus commented.
“It’s rather a bit late for that, sir,” Dorsuo replied as all three men turned to go into the house.
“My apologies, we did visit for longer than I anticipated.”
Suddenly, a swift gust of wind hit them in the back, and there was that sound again. Lobus spun and watched as the temple reappeared.
The door opened, and the Doctor stuck his upper half out of the door. “So sorry, almost forgot. These are for you.”
Lobus was too flabbergasted to respond before the Doctor ducked back inside and the temple once again vanished, this time with more noise and a great deal more wind. Lobus shielded his eyes from the wind, and when he opened them, he found the courtyard filled with all of the shelves and boxes that had lined the temple!
“Sir, what are they?”
Lobus looked into the box which had materialized nearly at his feet and saw that it was filled with stone tablets.
They couldn’t be.
He approached the nearest shelf and ducked around its side. It was lined with scrolls of all sorts-and so was the next, and the next, and the next.
“They’re books, Dorsuo, they’re books. They’re all books! The Library can begin again!”
Lobus let out a hearty laugh and gave his silent thanks to the heavens and hoped that somehow, wherever they were, the Doctor and Rose could hear them.
********************************************************************
The Doctor put the last few switches into place, and recalled the old coordinates set back up on the monitor.
“Better get a double-check on these coordinates to make sure I don’t butterfingers them to the back of beyond a billion years ago or anything,” he chirped.
“Right,” Rose said a little tiredly.
“Current garb aside,” the Doctor said, waving at her robes as he continued moving around the console and making the settings, “you ready for Working Up An Appetite? Split Enz? I hadn’t even thought to check the set list, but that always feels like cheating, you know? We should be there shortly, so you’d better get your dancing shoes on, Ms Tyler.”
Rose looked at him like he’d turned into an anthropomorphised duck.
“The 9:30 Club? The really big shew? Well, it’s not Ed Sullivan but the point still stands.”
“Doctor, we’re not going to a concert right now. We’re going home.”
“What? Why? I mean home is where you hang your hat and all, but it’s not exactly like we have a home to go to. We’d just be puttering around your parents’ rather large mansion.”
Rose’s hands were on her hips now, and her lower lip was trembling.
“So help me, I don’t want to be angry at you, not after what you’ve been through, but I am, and we need to talk about it, and I can’t do that right now without saying a lot of things I don’t mean.”
The Doctor skimmed around the console so he could look Rose in the eye. He stroked her cheek gently, trying to get her to look up at him.
“Rose, you’re here, I’m here, we’re okay. It’s all going to be okay. Look at me. What’s wrong?”
Rose lifted her eyes to his and they were filled with tears.
“What’s wrong? The fact that you need to ask me what’s wrong is what’s wrong. Doctor, I am looking at you. You look like you’ve just gone a few rounds with Ricky Hatton and you want to go running back off to that concert like none of this has happened.”
“Can you blame me for wanting to have a little fun to throw this past month plus into sharp relief?”
“I know you don’t want to think about it, I don’t want to think about it. I want to go to a concert or spend a few weeks having a lie-in with you at some puce-sanded beach resort, but I can’t think about anything else right now. Please. Doctor, take us home.”
She’d started trembling and he didn’t know whether it was from it being too cold in here right now, or from sheer accumulated fatigue, or from her current state of distress, or something more.
The Doctor walked back to the console and reset the coordinates for the Tyler Estate, present day. He pulled up the handbrake, and they took off through the Vortex.
“Thanks,” Rose whispered.
She came over to him, brushed her lips across his cheek, then padded quietly out of the console room without so much as a backwards glance.
The TARDIS was awfully quiet for having two people in it.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Next week: No Place Like Houm
Author: principia_coh
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Rose/Ten II
Summary: Waylaid en route to a holiday, the Doctor and Rose encounter unexpected wonders... and new dangers.
Author’s notes: Thanks to ginamak and leighleighla for their excellent and patient beta work! You two are rock stars!
Episode 9 of a virtual series at the_altverse, following The Wretched Hive last week.
Virtual Series Masterlist
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6.1 | Part 6.2 | Part 7.1
------------------------------------------------------------------
The Doctor rolled his head a slow, light rhythm against the oaken planks behind his head, humming softly to himself.
Three coins in the fountain...
There was no question that he and his three-figured entourage would soon be arriving in Rome. Very, very soon. He’d been listening to the chatter from the marines on deck, been sensing it in Quintus’ mounting trepidation during the last few of his regular checks on the Doctor’s welfare.
The Doctor was fairly confident that any notions Quintus might have had about his supposed divinity had been completely extinguished by now. Over the past weeks Quintus had gone from a fearful resignation, to puzzlement as to how or why the Doctor hadn’t effected his escape, to pity as he came to the realisation that the Doctor couldn’t.
Quintus’ behaviour also betrayed a slight tendency towards seasickness. That, and that Quintus felt at least partly at fault for the Doctor’s capture and imprisonment. The Doctor had certainly had ample time on his hands to develop a few theories as to why Quintus might feel that way, but they ultimately didn’t matter. The responsibility for this situation was the Doctor’s alone. He’d gone to extraordinary lengths to see to that. Never mind collateral damage like Quintus or Caecilius-he hadn’t wanted his actions to even touch Rose.
Mission accomplished, by Jove.
No, if her spectacularly incompetent cretin of a husband gets himself killed, that won’t affect her at all.
These past weeks were the longest period he and Rose had spent apart since... well, a period of time he wanted to dwell on even less than the fate which he felt sure awaited him in Rome.
The length of their separation was only likely to get far, far longer, trending towards the permanent end of the spectrum.
Maybe, if he’d have let Rose stay...
The Doctor shook his head. No. He would not go down that path again.
He knew what would have happened to Rose if she’d stayed to help. He’d only just made it out alive as it was.
As for the TARDIS, he’d not imagined she’d get so damnably disobedient this early in her life. She should’ve taken Rose home weeks ago, but he swore he could still feel her young presence tickling at the edges of his consciousness, as though she were trying to comfort him. Or Rose. Or both.
No matter how long he’d spent trying to reach out, get a feel for exactly where the TARDIS (and therefore Rose) was, he couldn’t get a fix on her. They could still be in Alexandria, or in Londinium, or at the gates of Loyang for all he knew. Anywhere but where he’d meant them to be.
Or it could be that he was deluding himself into thinking he wasn’t alone. He was certainly able to speak the lingo with or without the TARDIS, a few odd declensions in this Earth’s version of Latin aside. He really didn’t have any prior experience in trying to ascertain whether the TARDIS was genuinely inside his head at any given moment. Maybe he should ask Rose how it felt for her.
That assumed, of course, that he was ever going to see her again.
********************************************************************
Quintus looked as though his world were going to come crashing down around him. The ostentatiously uniformed soldiers arrayed along the docks before them were trying to render him irrelevant, in front of rather a lot of his fellow troops from Alexandria.
The Doctor couldn’t believe he’d forgotten about the Praetorian Guard. More to the point, he couldn’t believe Quintus had. The Iuppiter’s centurion, Scribonius, certainly hadn’t. He’d been first off the ship and provided introductions (apparently the young mouthpiece was called Rutilius), and now stood watching, grim-faced, as Quintus tried to stand his ground against one of the Emperor’s own.
“But, sir, I was tasked with the care of this prisoner until his trial-” Quintus protested.
“We sincerely thank you for your service to the Empire,” Rutilius began, in a tone the Doctor associated with getting rid of someone’s pesky kid brother (or ex-boyfriend), “As you can see, we are more than prepared to handle the situation. We shall have no further need of your attendance to the prisoner.”
Rutilius gestured to the four burly guards who’d accompanied him. They stepped right around Quintus and seized the Doctor by the arms.
Apparently Quintus didn’t have to worry about being reprimanded for insubordination; it was as if he hadn’t even spoken at all.
Quintus didn’t look away from Rutilius for a second. “Sir, my orders are from the Prefect himself,” he asserted.
“You have demonstrated a maturity and steadfastness that is well beyond expectations, given your cohort,” Rutilius sneered, “You will be suitably rewarded, and provided passage back to Alexandria at a time of your choosing after the trial, with our highest commendations sent back to your superior officers. And I will be certain that the Prefect himself hears of how thorough you have been in the pursuit of your duties. Your services here are no longer required.”
Poor kid. Trumped by a fancier helmet.
The Alexandrian legionaries slowly withdrew, a few back to the ship, but most out into the streets of Ostia. The Doctor saw Scribonius lay a reassuring hand on Quintus’ shoulder as they walked away.
Rutilius smirked as he watched his supposed colleagues go.
“We haven’t got all day. Bring him here.”
The soldiers unceremoniously hauled the Doctor before Rutilius.
The Prefect of Alexandria had taken the Doctor to be at least one part of a grave threat to the Empire; this officious young legionary was looking at him with world-weary contempt. The Doctor wasn’t sure if it was that his alleged crime was taken rather less seriously here in Rome than it had been in Alexandria, or that Rutilius simply couldn’t fathom that the high-priority prisoner he’d been sent to collect was this skinny vagrant. The Doctor rather suspected the latter.
That he hadn’t had a proper bath or shave in a month didn’t help, but still. Bit wounding to the pride.
Another gesture, a quick snap of the head, and the goons were escorting him to what looked like another paddy wagon, although far larger and altogether more important-looking than either of his last two rides. The guards frog-marched him into the carriage, and pushed him down onto the rear bench.
He faced not only two of the guards, but another soldier, seemed to be another officer of some sort.
Rutilius followed close behind, climbing up into the cabin and sitting down stiffly next to the nameless officer without looking at the Doctor.
“So, Vipsanius, what do we know of the prisoner’s condition? Aside from the obvious?” Rutilius asked archly.
This Vipsanius reviewed a small scroll, one the Doctor had to presume had been sent ahead by carrier pigeon.
“In addition to the minor injuries sustained in the commission of his crime, he has further bruising-”
“Oh, is that all?” Rutilius tutted “Our Alexandrian friends seem to have forgot how to do their jobs properly.”
“-and... and multiple cracked or fractured ribs on both sides of the chest,” Vipsanius finished matter-of-factly.
Rutilius face formed into a predatory grin, and he cackled. “And here I thought poor Herennius was going to be bored.”
His glance finally landed on the Doctor, as if he’d realised only now he was being observed.
“Tarpeius, what did I tell you?” Rutilius barked.
The guard seated to Rutilius’ right sprung to his feet, muttering apologies. The steely arms of the guards flanking the Doctor held him back against the wall of the carriage, as Tarpeius stepped forward, his hands outstretched towards the Doctor, an empty sack clutched in his hand.
Tarpeius shoved the thick hood over the Doctor’s head, and the carriage descended into darkness.
********************************************************************
Rose stood quietly in the TARDIS, gathering her thoughts, and her courage. She leaned forward and lightly caressed the monitor before her. The Doctor was still alive, and where there was life, there was hope.
She smiled wistfully to herself, imagining the Doctor telling her all about whoever had first said that.
Rose knew the plan. It was a solid, but terrifying, prospect. One wrong turn, a few minutes’ delay, and the Doctor would be beyond the point of no return.
He did always say he was a no-second-chances sort of a man.
She’d done her best to prepare everyone for their parts, but in the end it came down to a matter of time.
All that was left now was to wait for word of the trial.
********************************************************************
Quintus could scarcely believe he was standing in court this day, the very next morning after their arrival in Rome. The speed with which the Doctor’s trial had commenced defied belief-he hadn’t been at liberty to send word to Evelina, much less leave the barracks to find out for himself whether Mother and Rose had made it to Rome safely.
Scribonius had warned him last night that things went differently in Rome these days, but Quintus had had no idea it would be this terrible.
No officials had taken the slightest interest in speaking to anyone who had actually been present in Alexandria, much less to anyone who was at the Library that night-neither he nor any of the soldiers or marines aboard the Jupiter had been asked to give evidence, even though they were all still in Ostia or Rome and many of them were here with him in the court.
The trial appeared to consist largely of numerous charges being read out against the Doctor and a line of the Emperor’s representatives and allies hinting heavily at the Senate’s likely involvement in the destruction of the noble institution that was the Library.
The Doctor was gagged and bound and under heavy guard-Quintus doubted if he’d be allowed so much as a word in his own defence.
Even if they let the man talk, what could he say?
Moreover, the Doctor looked... damaged far out of proportion to the amount and quality of information the Emperor’s interrogators hadn’t procured overnight. Quintus scowled. They must have taken out their aggravation on the Doctor, as they seemed to have no information for the Praetor about what had truly happened at the Library.
Quintus knew that if the Doctor had broken, he himself would be facing judgment alongside the Doctor now.
As the string of “witnesses” continued, Quintus felt certain that there had never been any intention of finding the parties actually responsible for the Library’s destruction. These supposed men of honour were using the Doctor as an instrument for the public vilification of the Emperor’s enemies.
Quintus wondered what would have happened if his fellow guards hadn’t found the Doctor that night-would the Prefect have simply picked someone or someones to take this blame, to face the sword?
The presence of his fellow soldiers thinned as the day went on, many of them tiring of the unreal spectacle, but Quintus would not go. He might not be in a position to help the Doctor now, but he would not leave him to hear the verdict and sentencing alone.
And then, if she were here in Rome, Quintus would bear the news to Rose himself. He owed them that much.
********************************************************************
This was a particularly bright, sunny day for late October, even for Rome. Perfect weather for seeing a few of her sights up close and personal, even if it were on the way to one’s own execution.
The Doctor’s split, cracked lips curled upward. Donna would tell him he’d got what he wished for. Visiting the Colosseum at last, even if it was in irons.
He’d been questioned more than once in his day, by some of the best on offer in any Empire throughout the whole of time and space, but that was... before. He was sure he hadn’t realised before quite how human the metacrisis really had left him. There was a dreadful efficiency in being tortured by someone who had the proverbial owner’s manual. No random pokes and prods, just damage and pain-straight, no chaser.
One side effect, besides the induced pleurisy he wouldn’t have to tolerate for much longer, was that he wasn’t quite up to maintaining the brisk pace of the procession. He stumbled and lurched along the lane, at times nearly being dragged by the guards.
He looked despondently into the teeming, jeering crowds lining the path he now trod between the prison and the site of his eventual doom. Was that Maro he’d seen just there? No, couldn’t have been.
So terribly rude that they wouldn’t even tell him the method of his execution. The “court” had certainly held him to be a citizen, so he should be looking forward to a beheading, but with this lot he expected something much more creative.
All Domitian’s horses and all Domitian’s men wouldn’t be able to put Doctor together again.
The guards in front of the Doctor came to an abrupt standstill, forming a rather effective wall into which the Doctor collided. He staggered backwards, then slumped slowly to the ground. He could feel the guards to his rear bellowing at him to get up, at the guards to the front of him about why they’d stopped. They cuffed at his shoulders with the butts of their spears, but he couldn’t muster the strength to stand. He thought he heard the sound of hoofbeats growing closer, but that was probably just the mounted guards at the front of this jolly parade coming back to check on the holdup.
The Doctor looked blearily up into the faces of the surrounding mob.
Not possible.
He thought he could see Rose in the crowd, hands held before her mouth as if in prayer. Prayer for his soul, the only part of him that might be close to immortal now?
He didn’t know she had it in her.
But he was wrong. He had to be. She couldn’t be here. She couldn’t be here to have to watch him die.
This wasn’t what I promised you. I’m sorry, Rose.
The guards behind him had gone curiously quiet, and the crowd had too. Or maybe all the blood rushing in his ears was making him deaf to their taunts.
No, not deaf. He could hear the crowd’s expressions of astonishment.
He was astonished too. None of the guards had yet run him through for his stalling.
He heard one or two of them exclaim under their breath.
An soft, untroubled female voice sounded from somewhere ahead. “I would see him. Now.”
Maybe it belonged to the owner of the billowing skirts he saw moving towards the guards to his fore. They slowly parted like the Red Sea.
The skirt-owner came to a halt directly in front of him.
“It’s alright,” she said placidly, “You may look at me. Please do.”
The Doctor looked up, blinking to clear the shock of sunlight from his eyes. The gauzy figure above him slowly came into focus, her mild expression becoming ever clearer as she searched his face.
It was Evelina, Caecilius’ Evelina. Whatever she was looking for, she seemed satisfied, and lightly ran her fingers across his hair and face, careful to avoid his most obvious wounds.
If there had been a pin dropping anywhere in the city of Rome at that moment, the Doctor was sure he would have heard it. The mob faded away from him, and the guards seemed paralysed, unsure of what to do.
Evelina stood up straight and folded her hands together, waiting patiently. “Shall I help this man up myself?”
The Doctor heard spears clattering as they hit the stone streets behind him. The guards who had only just been striking him were practically tripping over one another to help him to his feet.
Was this how it was going to end? Had he gone mad?
No, the vise-like grip on his arms was no hallucination. Once on his feet, he looked to each of them, and they let him go, jerking back as if they’d been given a jolt by a cattle prod.
One of the guards from the fore of the procession came to him, his face drawn, and began undoing the fetters at his wrists. He set those aside, then undid the pair around the Doctor’s ankles, finally withdrawing to stand at his side.
“What,” he started throatily, “What’s going on?”
Evelina continued gazing at him serenely.
“You have received the pardon of Vesta herself,” responded the guard who’d removed his chains, “You are a free man.”
He looked incredulously to all the people surrounding him (not nearly so close now), then back to Evelina.
“Whatever you have done,” she said in a dulcet tone, “Whatever you have not done, it is forgiven. You may go.”
She cast her eye over the Praetorians still surrounding him, albeit at a distance. They shuffled out of his way, and he took one step forward, then another. No-one was moving to stop him.
He bowed slowly, painfully before Evelina. “Thank you.”
As he stood she rewarded him with the barest hint of a smile. Then she turned, and walked back to her ornately carved carriage. Her coachman helped her inside, and then they were on their way.
The remaining guards marched past him stiffly, in stunned silence. He could hear a wave of cautious, fascinated chatter starting to filter through the people still lining the avenue. Some of them were beginning to make their way towards him, slowly-but unmistakably towards him.
The Doctor felt a sudden firm grip on his left shoulder. He heard a familiar, gruff voice in his ear. “Doctor Spartacus,” Scribonius muttered, “It would be best if you got off of the streets. Do you have anywhere to go?”
And then the most wonderful, beloved voice of all rang out from the encroaching crowd.
“I think I can take care of him, sir.”
Rose. Home.
********************************************************************
The Doctor spun to face her, looking for all the world like he didn’t trust the sight in front of his eyes. That was alright, she wasn’t sure she did either.
Rose slipped the cloak’s hood back from her head.
“It’s me,” she told him, nodding emphatically.
The Doctor could barely walk forward, so she came to him, enfolding him gently in her arms. She felt him tremble, then begin to shudder as he buried his face in the folds of her robe. But there were no tears, not from either of them. Not here, not yet.
The middle-aged soldier, who the Doctor seemed to know, stepped away a bit and kept a watchful eye on her and the people nearby.
Maro signalled from behind the soldier. The carriage was here.
“I believe our chariot has arrived. Well, not a real chariot, but that’ll have to keep. Can you make it there?”
“Yes,” the Doctor said hoarsely, wincing as he spoke.
“If you require assistance, Mrs Spartacus...” the soldier ventured.
“Thank you, but I imagine you probably shouldn’t be seen speaking to us,” Rose replied frankly.
The unnamed soldier bowed his head and withdrew, blending back in with the other spectators as Rose put a cloak over the Doctor’s shoulders. She and Maro guided the Doctor back to the carriage, parked a few alleys away. It was slow going; whoever had had a go at him clearly enjoyed their work.
It took both Maro and Fusus to help her get the Doctor into the cabin of the carriage without hurting him further.
Rose and Fusus got the Doctor settled among the cushions they’d brought to protect him from the jars and jolts of travelling the Roman streets. She sat next to him, and he nestled into her bonelessly with a soft whimper, clearly in pain but past caring for the moment.
She smiled gratefully at Fusus, who grunted and turned his attention to the sights out of the carriage window as Maro got them underway. Rose planted kisses on the crown of the Doctor’s head, muttering reassurances to him. She brought her free hand up to stroke through his hair, possibly the only part of him that didn’t hurt right now.
Rose’s instincts screamed at her to wrap the Doctor up and take him home and never see or speak of this place again, but she didn’t think either of them were up to travelling today, or possibly for a while yet. Besides, after all this family had risked for her and the Doctor, she wasn’t going to just swan off and leave them behind.
Not unless the TARDIS’ readouts told her he needed to be taken back to the modern era for medical treatment, and she hoped in the weeks she’d spent coming to a seeming understanding with the TARDIS that the ship wouldn’t withhold that kind of information from her, no matter what the Doctor ordered. She was sure as hell going to take him for a proper examination when they got back, regardless.
Rose also knew seeing him like this, so broken, she couldn’t say the things she needed to say. Not yet.
As the carriage continued towards the villa, she felt the Doctor’s hitched breathing slow and settle into a calm rhythm.
Rose snorted, and gave the Doctor as much of a squeeze as she dared.
He’d fallen asleep.
********************************************************************
Rose slowly pushed herself up on the daybed and stretched, tugging lightly at her hair. She blinked the sleep from her eyes and looked over at the still-sleeping form of the Doctor. From the dimness of the light, Rose could tell it was still very, very early and she’d best be as quiet as possible. Sound travelled like mad in this place.
Rose padded the few steps to the Doctor’s bed, and reached over to brush the Doctor’s fringe back from his forehead.
He still didn’t stir. Day number three now.
Of course the Doctor hadn’t just fallen asleep in the carriage-why would anything ever be that simple for them? The moment he’d felt safe, he’d slipped straight into a healing trance, and couldn’t be woken until his body was good and ready to let him up. Not that Rose had known that until she’d checked with the TARDIS.
The Doctor had bloody near given her and everyone else heart attacks. Rose had scared Metella nearly half to death when she’d come flying into the house without so much as a knock, desperate for a litter or cot or even just some sheets to sling under the Doctor as they’d brought his limp form in from the carriage.
Whether this days-long coma was TARDIS-assisted (or even induced by her), Rose couldn’t tell, but all the scans indicated it was mending the Doctor’s rather significant internal injuries.
Rose placed her hand on his chest and felt the very slow, but steady, beat of his heart. She found herself thinking again, as she had over the past few days, about striped jim-jams and the first time she’d heard the Doctor with a single heartbeat.
She yawned and lay carefully down at the Doctor’s side, content to watch the slow rise and fall of his chest. Rose let the soft sounds of his easy breathing lull her back to sleep.
********************************************************************
The Doctor sat bolt upright, inhaling in strong, painless gasps.
Rose. Where was his golden girl?
He was definitely alone in the room, and in bed... or on a lectus, at any rate. Still in Rome, then. Or thereabouts.
He could still feel a bit of tightness on his face, along the bridge of his nose and a few other places where his surface wounds remained, but other than those he certainly felt like he was better.
The Doctor smacked his lips, which in retrospect wasn’t such a good idea. Still a split lip then.
His mouth tasted seriously awful, but he’d definitely been bathed and changed while he was asleep. By Rose, from the looks of it. He was wearing one of his vests and pair of his loose plaid pyjama bottoms. Not exactly Roman-issue sleepwear.
He took a deep whiff of the vest, and there it was, the faintest hint of Rose’s scent, too strong for her just to have dressed him. He leaned back down and sniffed his pillow to confirm. Rose had been here curled up against him, at some point fairly recently. Even after all he’d put her through.
He was quite certain it would be impossible to quantify just how much he loved Rose Tyler.
The Doctor could hear the sounds of a half-empty household at work, and wondered exactly where he was, other than the obvious answers of “not prison,” “not dead,” and “not with Rose.”
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and waggled them about experimentally. Good a time as any to give the getaway sticks a testing.
He heard a slow affectionate wheeze over his shoulder, and smiled.
“Oh, hello.”
The Doctor stood and ambled carefully over to the TARDIS. He gave her a few strokes for good measure as he looked her up and down. “And how have you been looking after Rose, you wilful little ship of mine?”
“I think you mean ours, don’t you, Doctor?”
He whirled around to see Rose standing in the doorway, offering him a sweet, if melancholy, smile. He couldn’t help the ear-splitting grin that broke out across his face. Before he could even step forward, Rose dashed across the room and into his arms. She took his face in both hands and planted soft, tender kisses on each of his remaining wounds, finally brushing the lightest of kisses across his mouth.
The Doctor brushed his nose against Rose’s cheeks, murmuring against her lips in between kisses. “‘Course. Ours. ‘S no better way to travel.”
Rose sobbed and tightened her grasp on his face, pulling him in for a long, slow, deep kiss.
She eventually pulled back, sniffling, and looked over every inch of his face consideringly. “You really need to brush.”
“Oi!”
Rose hooted, and pulled him into a tight, squishy hug. He rocked her back and forth, mumbling quiet words of comfort as she tried very hard not to cry on him.
Oh, Rose.
Rose was here, the universe hadn’t imploded, and he was in one piece, more or less.
Everything was going to be just fine.
********************************************************************
Rose settled back into the couch, content to watch the Doctor chat with Quintus about changing his career path while they all lingered over this very long afternoon meal.
She and the Doctor hadn’t openly discussed it yet, but Rose felt that ought to be the last meal they’d share with the Caecilius family. They needed to let these people get on with their lives.
The Doctor, naturally, was talking around a mouthful of food and gesturing animatedly as he counselled Quintus on his future options. “Yeah, you’ve got about another 20 years in the service, but there’s no reason you couldn’t start your medical training now.”
Metella seemed to be having a hard time not smiling as the Doctor picked up a stuffed olive to illustrate a point before popping it into his mouth. It seemed everyone was having a jolly time of it-except for her.
Rose felt another white-hot flash of anger and closed her eyes. She hadn’t wanted to think about it while the Doctor was still healing up, but if were completely honest with herself, she was damn near as angry at the Doctor as she was at the men who had hurt him. This hadn’t had to happen.
It didn’t help her state of mind that the Doctor still looked like he’d been in a serious car crash recently. Rose had to admit it was probably just as well; if he’d healed up completely, it might’ve got Metella or the staff started back up about his alleged godhood.
Rose let out a gust of breath and opened her eyes to see Metella watching her with motherly concern. She gave Metella a reassuring smile, and they went back to sipping their drinks and watching the Doctor and Quintus confab.
Not that either of the men had really quit munching; ever since the Doctor had woken up two days ago, he’d been merrily plowing through any food they could put in front of him.
Almost any food. He’d looked at the pears stewed in honey like they were going to lurch up out of the bowl and attack him. Today he’d made sure that particular bowl was the possible furthest distance from him it could be and not be off the table altogether.
If a raving case of the munchies was the cost of the Doctor being well and whole again, then so be it.
“He’s so much like his father,” Metella volunteered out of the blue, as the conversation between Quintus and the Doctor dwindled and the men resumed their noshing in earnest.
Rose chuckled. “Would either of them believe you if you told them that?”
Metella laughed. “Oh, I doubt it. But I do see the resemblance, very much.”
“You miss him a lot, don’t you?”
“Our current separation is hardly anything compared to what you and the Doctor have been through,” Metella replied, “but this is indeed the longest that Lobus and I have been apart since we were wed. If only I could know how he’s faring, how matters are proceeding at home.”
Metella sighed heavily. “Oh, pay me no heed.”
Rose caught the Doctor’s sudden interest out of the corner of her eye. He took a long sip of his beverage, watching Metella with keen attentiveness.
“It’s okay, go on,” Rose said encouragingly.
“Seeing Evelina, how she’s grown into her role as a full priestess, the quality of her mercy... I do wish they could see one another again.”
“I know Lobus’ work keeps him busy, but couldn’t Evelina pay a visit?”
Even Licina, who was busy tidying the room, froze on the spot.
The Doctor smiled thinly. “Rose, Evelina can never leave Rome. Not before she has fulfilled her duties to the College, and even then, unless she specifically removes herself from the priesthood, she will have to stay within the city for the rest of her life.”
Trapped in one place forever, no matter how privileged an existence it meant... now that was something Rose knew first-hand that she couldn’t bear.
The Doctor plonked down his goblet with a definitive thump. “I’ll tell you what, Metella. If Mohammed can’t come to the mountain, the mountain will come to Mohammed. Or Evelina.”
********************************************************************
Rose looked positively gobsmacked at his offer, but what could he say, he was feeling his oats today. Events had lost their grip on him and Rose, and they were free to go wherever and whenever they pleased.
The Caecilii household (Rome division) was bustling with life, the servants were happy, even Evelina had seemed to relish the opportunity to hang about, be Evelina for a while and not just one of the venerated Vestales. Quintus seemed to be back on an even keel. That left Metella with the short end of the stick, and that would not do.
As tempting as the idea was, the Doctor knew he couldn’t just whisk the whole lot back to Alexandria. Quintus was expected to return home on board the Iuppiter, once it had been restocked, and Metella couldn’t just vanish without an explanation. At the very least, the merchants who had brought her here in the first place knew when she and her share of the household had got to Rome. No, they’d all have to go home the old-fashioned way.
But as for Caecilius, he and Metella had both already seen the inside of the TARDIS. And Caecilius had seen even more, in the lab. What harm could one short trip do?
Besides, the quick flight would do the TARDIS good, give her the chance to stretch her proverbial wings before he put her through any heavier-duty travelling.
The Doctor beamed at the very confused people surrounding him and stood up from his seat. “C’mon Rose, shall we?”
“Doctor,” Rose said warningly from her seat, “We can’t just...” She made the cutest little POOF gesture with her hands.
He looked down at his suit and frowned. “Too right!” He plucked the napkin he’d had tucked into his shirt out and dropped it on the table. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, and looked back and forth between Quintus and Metella. “You should get a hold of Evelina, let her know there’s someone coming she’ll want to see.”
The Doctor scampered out of the room, making quickly for the TARDIS while everyone followed him like a bunch of kids pursuing an ice-cream van.
“But where, where are you going?” Metella asked, utterly baffled.
“Like I said,” the Doctor explained as he fished out his TARDIS key, “off to see the marble man. Not exactly on Drury Lane, but I think we can find him well enough. Let’s see, if you sent Maro now, then it’d take...”
The Doctor hemmed and hawed, did a bit of calculating on his fingers, then decided it didn’t really matter. Should be a doddle.
“Anyway, one Lobus Caecilius Iucundus coming right up!”
He flitted into the TARDIS, and Rose trailed after him, still looking at him like he was Dom Joly and she was wondering where the hidden camera was.
He stopped short on the entry ramp. He guessed he hadn’t registered quite how dominating his collection of rescues from the Library’s stacks would be.
“Doctor,” she began slowly, “are you absolutely sure you’re up to flying the TARDIS?”
“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”
The Doctor circled around the console and took the TARDIS’ monitor into his hands properly for the first time in far too long, and promptly began tapping away.
Wait a mo. Since when had that screen been in English?
“What’s the matter?” Rose asked the Doctor, slightly overenunciating.
“Hmm? What? Nothing, just, um, nothing.”
“You’ve got a face like a cat’s arse. Is there a problem?”
“What a disturbingly vivid and disgusting turn of phrase, Rose Tyler. Cat’s arse. Really?”
“That’s as may be,” Rose replied smoothly as she strode up the ramp towards him, “but you still haven’t answered my question.”
Oh.
“I, erm, I wasn’t expecting to see these particular readouts in English.”
“Fancy that.”
He could see on the monitor that a small gathering had formed around the TARDIS. Metella was carefully pulling Quintus back from the doors and saying something in his ear.
“I just didn’t remember getting around to translating them yet, that’s all.”
Rose let out a sceptical noise and moved around to her usual co-pilot’s spot. The Doctor contemplated the sight of his wife at the dials, by his side, just as it should be.
Oh, that is better.
Metella was now guiding the other members of the household away like a goose herding her goslings.
“That’s everyone clear, then. Right, off we go!”
********************************************************************
Lobus was seated in his study, going over receipts for the last several weeks’ requisitions from the quarries scattered up and down the Nile. This business of rebuilding the Library was going to be a costly one, but the Prefect would settle for nothing less than a complete restoration.
Restoring the buildings would be the easy part. A few of the staff had had manuscripts in their quarters for one reason or another, but otherwise the Library was starting over from almost nothing. The call had gone out across the Empire for copies of works to be sent to restore the Library’s collection, but it was likely there were countless tomes that would never be replaced, not to mention the priceless originals she’d once held.
Lobus glanced briefly at the snack Dorsuo had brought for him. The remaining staff were doing their best to meet his needs while Metella was gone, but nothing tasted quite as good without her here.
He missed Metella deeply. He’d hoped to have heard some news from Rome by now, but perhaps under these circumstances, no news was preferable. It would be remarkably difficult for any of the family to communicate anything specific without drawing unwanted (and possibly official) attention.
He missed Quintus too, of course, but his son was practically his own man now, and it was long since Evelina had ceased to be his little girl.
Dash it all, if it was going to continue being this expensive to source limestone from the local quarries, they might have to-
What in the world was that noise? A pack of hyenas?
Lobus pushed away from his desk and stood quickly. He’d better investigate. If some merchant in the wildlife trade had let his stock get loose and go running through the city...
He nearly collided with Dorsuo in the hall. “Master! The blue box, Doctor and Mrs Spartacus’ blue box...”
Dorsuo raced back down the hall, Lobus right behind him.
He followed Dorsuo out into the courtyard. Just as he’d said, the Doctor and Rose’s blue temple was here. But how...?
Tuditanus came hustling out of the back, tools still in hand, and put himself between Lobus and the box.
After a moment, the door creaked open, and out came the Doctor, followed immediately by Rose!
A temple that moved on its own? Whatever the Doctor protests, he was clearly a man of power indeed.
“Doctor, Rose,” Lobus stammered, bowing “It is truly an honour to see you both again.”
“Oh, Caecilius, you know that’s not necessary,” the Doctor responded warmly, cracking a smile.
Lobus snapped back up straight. “No, of course, you’re right,” he replied, “How are you? Both of you?”
“Getting better, thanks,” Rose answered. Her fingers were twined with the Doctor’s, and she herself looked as though she couldn’t quite believe they were here.
“Oh, that’s splendid. How, I ask, may we serve you?”
The Doctor snorted. “Serve us? Caecilius, sir, we are here to serve you.”
Lobus looked to Rose, then to the Doctor, then back to Rose. “Serve me? I don’t understand.”
“I’ll bet right about now that you’re missing Metella something fierce,” the Doctor offered.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, but what of it? Is she... with you?”
“Oh, no, ‘m afraid not. Couldn’t exactly have her just popping back from Rome. People would ask the kind of questions you probably wouldn’t want to have to answer.”
The Doctor tugged on one ear and looked around the courtyard as though he were searching for something.
“So you’ve come to bring me her greeting, then? How is she? Is she well?”
“I could just up and tell you, that’d be easy. Wouldn’t you much rather ask her yourself?”
What a strange question.
“Yes,” Lobus said slowly, “Seeing Metella in the flesh would certainly be my preference.”
“She misses you too,” Rose offered sweetly.
Lobus supposed he oughtn’t find that quite so gratifying, but he found himself blushing. “And the children? My son, and daughter, that is, if you’ve had occasion to meet her.”
“Oh, believe you me, Caecilius,” the Doctor said gravely, “Evelina is a life-saver.”
“You’d be really proud of her,” Rose added.
“That’s lovely to hear. I shouldn’t be surprised, she was always such a sensitive child, so attuned to the others around her.”
“That’s all well and good, Caecilius, but instead of taking our word for it, wouldn’t you rather see how everyone’s doing?”
That was the second time the Doctor had asked him... surely, he couldn’t mean...
“Do you, do you mean to say you would take me to Rome to see my family? In your temple?”
“Bingo! And it’s not a temple, she’s the TARDIS.”
The Doctor glanced at Rose rather significantly. “Although I suspect you already knew that.”
Rose stood her ground and virtually dared her husband to say anything. Lobus knew that particular look all too well.
“I would most dearly love to,” Lobus averred, “but I’m afraid I have far too much work to do here. To leave on a trip to Rome now would be not be possible.”
The Doctor rocked forward on the balls of his feet. “Not only is it possible, my good man, it’s very probable. Almost guaranteed. A certainty.”
Rose smiled. “We can take you there and have you back in time for supper. We promise.”
Lobus could scarcely believe his ears; Dorsuo and Tuditanus looked dumbfounded.
“You’ve done so much for us,” Rose continued, “Will you let us do this for you? Please?”
“Yes, I believe that I shall,” Lobus answered shakily, bowing.
“Now, none of that,” the Doctor warned him playfully.
Rose and the Doctor alike were beaming at him, as if he were the most important thing happening in their remarkable lives. They wanted nothing in return, not even adulation.
“C’mon,” Rose said, reaching out to him, “Sooner we get there, sooner you can see your family.”
Lobus glanced at Dorsuo and Tuditanus. Surely they deserved as many thanks in these matters as him.
“I’ll be sure to care for the house in your absence, sir,” Dorsuo offered, bowing to him.
“We’re going to Rome, Dorsuo, not the New Magellanic Cluster,” the Doctor remarked, “We should have him back in time for the evening meal.”
Dorsuo started to bow, then remembered the Doctor’s preference. He and Tuditanus excused themselves and headed into the house.
If Lobus didn’t go now, he knew he’d lose his nerve.
“Shall we?” he quipped.
The Doctor’s face lit up, and he and Rose stepped aside in invitation. “We shall indeed!”
Lobus passed once more over the threshold of the wonder and allowed Rose to guide him to an odd bench next to their altar.
The Doctor grasped a strange lever and turned to smile broadly at him. “Next stop, the Eternal City!”
********************************************************************
Maybe he should’ve thought about that nickname before he sprung it on poor Lobus.
Rose looked around from the opposite side of the console to see that Lobus had a white-knuckled death grip on the sides of the captain’s chair, even though you could barely tell the TARDIS was moving at all.
Poor man probably thought he was going to his eternal reward.
Not a moment later, the TARDIS rematerialised in exactly the spot they’d departed from.
“Oh, well done, you!” the Doctor cooed at the TARDIS, giving the central column a couple of affectionate pats.
Lobus looked even more confused and even more reluctant to ask than he might normally be. “We’re there? I mean, we’ve arrived?”
The Doctor looked up from the monitor and nodded at her sagely.
“How about you take a look for yourself?” Rose said delightedly.
Rose led the way down the ramp, and the Doctor ambled down the ramp behind her. Lobus made his way down the ramp behind them both, one foot in front of the other.
The Doctor slipped around Rose to open the doors back into the guest bedroom and poked his around the one opened door.
“Oh, huh,” he muttered quizzically, “Hello all. Didn’t expect you to, well, still be standing here.”
He scratched his head and walked out into the room, and Rose followed. True to what he’d said, Metella and company were all still standing... exactly where they’d left them, blinking from the breezes produced by the dematerialisation.
Rose moved to the side of the TARDIS doors and gestured at the doors like a game show hostesss. “Ta-dah!”
Lobus had barely stepped out of the TARDIS before Metella had leapt on him and gripped him in a bear hug.
Quintus was staring, stunned at the scene of his parents reunited, and the staff erupted into spontaneous applause.
“Thank yaw,” the Doctor chirped.
Rose tiptoed over to Quintus and Maro. “I don’t suppose you’ve had time to call on Evelina?”
“But, but you were just here,” Quintus gasped.
“So that would be a ‘no.’”
Before Quintus could respond, Maro’s ears seemed to perk up and he hotfooted it out of the room. A moment later, everyone heard the unmistakable sound of someone knocking at the front entrance, and then Maro’s muffled voice as he answered the door.
Metella and Lobus didn’t seem to have even noticed, bless their hearts. They were nuzzling against each other like a couple of teenagers, and Quintus was looking anywhere but at his parents.
Maro returned just a moment later, walking at an almost stately pace. “Announcing-”
“Oh, Maro, I’ve told you before, you don’t need to announce me here.”
Metella jumped out of Lobus’ arms and moved out of the way so he could have a clear view of his daughter.
Evelina glided into the room, all white linen and grace. The woman’s timing was uncanny. The Doctor looked even more blown away than Rose felt.
“I wanted to check on the Doctor’s progress, see if there was-Father?”
Lobus was close to tears. Had he not thought he’d ever see his daughter again?
“Yes, Evelina, I’m here.”
Evelina looked to Rose in amazement and gratitude, and then to the Doctor. She had the look of someone who had a million things to say, but she kept them to herself. She gave the Doctor a Mona Lisa smile as she passed him on the way to her mum and dad’s open arms.
********************************************************************
The next several hours passed by quickly in a whirlwind of thank yous and happy reunions and plans for the future near- and long-term.
But the evening was wearing on, and if they couldn’t just up and bring Metella and Quintus home, they absolutely couldn’t just whisk Caecilius away and not get him right back where he’d started.
Metella, ever the on-point hostess, had already begun the farewells. She knew as well as they did that Lobus needed to get back to Alexandria before he would be missed.
For that matter, Evelina couldn’t go AWL from the Vestal College without triggering a citywide emergency, and she’d already made arrangements to be picked back up by her coachman.
Evelina urged Quintus over, and the family met in a group hug.
Rose felt like she could use one of those herself right about now. It was a sure sign that it was time to go home.
********************************************************************
It was clear to the Doctor, that Caecilius truly did still care for Evelina as his child, even though she’d been removed from the household at such a young age. Anyone could see he was proud to bursting of her.
The Doctor watched Rose taking in the close family scene, then joining Quintus, Evelina, and even the servants for rounds of hugs and goodbyes.
Reminds me of another father-daughter pair I know.
Caecilius and Metella ducked out, no doubt to have a private au revoir of their own.
The Doctor continued taking in the proceedings, not wanting to interrupt any important family moments. They’d all be here for each other long after he and Rose were gone.
And then he realised someone was observing him. Evelina was looking at him with a warm surety, as if she knew she’d done the right thing in setting him free. She smiled cryptically and made her way over to him.
“Doctor.”
“Your grace.”
She arched an eyebrow at him. “I owe you my thanks.”
“What?”
“My thanks, for making this possible. And it’s Evelina. Please.”
She waved her arm to indicate the scene playing out before them.
“Oh, Evelina, it’s you I owe thanks,” the Doctor said incredulously.
Evelina eyed him. “There are many others you owe thanks, and apologies.”
“Yes, I know,” he admitted ruefully, “Guess I’d better get started on that, then.” He pushed himself away from the wall and headed off to join the fray.
“You might wish to start with your wife,” she added serenely.
The Doctor’s back stiffened, and he turned on Evelina. “I beg your pardon?” he barked, barely able to keep quiet enough to avoid attracting attention.
“You should never have put her in that position,” Evelina continued, smooth as silk, “and I pray that you never will again, for both your sakes.”
“With all due respect, your grace, I don’t know that it’s any of your business.”
“You know that I’m right, or are at least forming an awareness that you should know. You would not be so upset with me, or yourself, otherwise. But in the end, mine is not the opinion that should concern you.”
The Doctor could feel his face heating, and he thought they were starting to get looks from the Maro and the other household staff.
“I don’t wish to part on bad terms, Doctor. I think you and Rose are more important than even my mother believes you to be.”
For heaven’s... “Evelina, we’re not-”
“I know, you’re not gods. That may be precisely why you’re so very important. And why you must be very, very careful, both out in the world and with each other.”
The Doctor sighed, and offered a handshake to Evelina. She accepted it and shook firmly, and they went back to keeping an eye on the room.
A few moments later, Caecilius and Metella returned, Metella carefully adjusting her headband.
Evelina smiled at the Doctor again and went to say her last quick farewell to her father.
Rose joined the Doctor at the wall. “So, you’re quiet.”
“I’ve said goodbye to everyone properly,” he protested, “Gave Quintus a hug and everything.”
“This is the part you always used to have us skip out on,” Rose countered.
“Well, sometimes staying is the right thing to do,” he sniffed.
Rose sighed and closed her eyes as she leant back against the wall, and reached for his hand.
After a few more minutes of leave-taking and taking a few scrolls of notes from Metella about matters back at the house, Caecilius was ready to go.
Hand-in-hand, the Doctor and Rose made their way back to the TARDIS. Metella and Caecilius were here, and she was giving him another last minute instruction.
“And don’t forget we’re going to need to order that now if we want it to come in before winter closes their port.”
“Yes, my love, of course.”
Caecilius planted one last kiss on his wife’s lips, and went inside.
The Doctor was nearly jerked off his feet by Metella, who brought him and Rose in for another bone-crusher. If his ribs hadn’t mended completely, he certainly would’ve known it by now.
Metella gave Rose a kiss on the cheek, and with that Rose headed into the TARDIS. It really was time to go.
“Goodbye Metella, Evelina, Quintus, all of you. Thank you.”
The Doctor bounded up to the console and began dialling her up for the return trip.
Caecilius seemed rather more comfortable this time. He still didn’t try to nose around about what they were doing, but he sat comfortably on the captain’s chair and patiently awaited their arrival in his home.
He didn’t have long to wait; a same-time arrival across not even two thousand miles was almost nothing to the TARDIS.
And once again, the kid came through. A bit late for supper, but the same time they’d left Rome more or less.
As they landed, the Doctor saw on the monitor that Dorsuo and Tuditanus were back out in the peristyle, waiting patiently for their master’s return.
Caecilius had stood and was adjusting his tunic. The Doctor swivelled the monitor away; the last thing he needed to do was introduce Caecilius to the telly.
“Are we back in Alexandria, then?” Caecilius asked.
“We most certainly are. You ready to go?”
Caecilius was taking one last long look around the console room. “Yes, I think I am.”
They exited the TARDIS, this time with Rose bringing up the rear.
Dorsuo and Tuditanus looked thoroughly relieved to see Caecilius back and in one piece. Rose, of course, went to give the two men hugs.
“So I take it this is our final goodbye, then?” Caecilius asked, watching Rose with some bemusement.
“I’m afraid it is,” the Doctor answered.
“I know it was not easy, what you had to do, not one part of it. So I will say thank you, though I cannot hope to understand the reasons why, and even if no-one else will.”
Caecilius shook the Doctor’s hand firmly.
“It’s been my honour, Caecilius.”
“The honour is mine, Doctor. And for goodness’ sake, you can call me Lobus.”
“Alright, then, Lobus, you take care of yourself,” the Doctor chuckled.
Rose gave Lobus a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Goodbye, Lobus.”
“Goodbye, Rose. Safe journeys to you both.”
The Doctor guided Rose into the TARDIS with his hand at the small of her back. Time to get this show on the road.
********************************************************************
Hmm. That was odd. Out here in the courtyard, the heralding sound of the Spartacus’ temple didn’t sound so much like hyenas as it did camels. It kicked up a bit of a breeze as well.
Lobus stood alongside Dorsuo and Tuditanus as they all watched the temple dissolve into the air with a flash of lights.
That was that, then. Lobus wasn’t sure if any days of his life would ever qualify as normal again, but at least he knew he’d have Metella back as soon as a ship could take her.
“I do hope you didn’t keep supper for me,” Lobus commented.
“It’s rather a bit late for that, sir,” Dorsuo replied as all three men turned to go into the house.
“My apologies, we did visit for longer than I anticipated.”
Suddenly, a swift gust of wind hit them in the back, and there was that sound again. Lobus spun and watched as the temple reappeared.
The door opened, and the Doctor stuck his upper half out of the door. “So sorry, almost forgot. These are for you.”
Lobus was too flabbergasted to respond before the Doctor ducked back inside and the temple once again vanished, this time with more noise and a great deal more wind. Lobus shielded his eyes from the wind, and when he opened them, he found the courtyard filled with all of the shelves and boxes that had lined the temple!
“Sir, what are they?”
Lobus looked into the box which had materialized nearly at his feet and saw that it was filled with stone tablets.
They couldn’t be.
He approached the nearest shelf and ducked around its side. It was lined with scrolls of all sorts-and so was the next, and the next, and the next.
“They’re books, Dorsuo, they’re books. They’re all books! The Library can begin again!”
Lobus let out a hearty laugh and gave his silent thanks to the heavens and hoped that somehow, wherever they were, the Doctor and Rose could hear them.
********************************************************************
The Doctor put the last few switches into place, and recalled the old coordinates set back up on the monitor.
“Better get a double-check on these coordinates to make sure I don’t butterfingers them to the back of beyond a billion years ago or anything,” he chirped.
“Right,” Rose said a little tiredly.
“Current garb aside,” the Doctor said, waving at her robes as he continued moving around the console and making the settings, “you ready for Working Up An Appetite? Split Enz? I hadn’t even thought to check the set list, but that always feels like cheating, you know? We should be there shortly, so you’d better get your dancing shoes on, Ms Tyler.”
Rose looked at him like he’d turned into an anthropomorphised duck.
“The 9:30 Club? The really big shew? Well, it’s not Ed Sullivan but the point still stands.”
“Doctor, we’re not going to a concert right now. We’re going home.”
“What? Why? I mean home is where you hang your hat and all, but it’s not exactly like we have a home to go to. We’d just be puttering around your parents’ rather large mansion.”
Rose’s hands were on her hips now, and her lower lip was trembling.
“So help me, I don’t want to be angry at you, not after what you’ve been through, but I am, and we need to talk about it, and I can’t do that right now without saying a lot of things I don’t mean.”
The Doctor skimmed around the console so he could look Rose in the eye. He stroked her cheek gently, trying to get her to look up at him.
“Rose, you’re here, I’m here, we’re okay. It’s all going to be okay. Look at me. What’s wrong?”
Rose lifted her eyes to his and they were filled with tears.
“What’s wrong? The fact that you need to ask me what’s wrong is what’s wrong. Doctor, I am looking at you. You look like you’ve just gone a few rounds with Ricky Hatton and you want to go running back off to that concert like none of this has happened.”
“Can you blame me for wanting to have a little fun to throw this past month plus into sharp relief?”
“I know you don’t want to think about it, I don’t want to think about it. I want to go to a concert or spend a few weeks having a lie-in with you at some puce-sanded beach resort, but I can’t think about anything else right now. Please. Doctor, take us home.”
She’d started trembling and he didn’t know whether it was from it being too cold in here right now, or from sheer accumulated fatigue, or from her current state of distress, or something more.
The Doctor walked back to the console and reset the coordinates for the Tyler Estate, present day. He pulled up the handbrake, and they took off through the Vortex.
“Thanks,” Rose whispered.
She came over to him, brushed her lips across his cheek, then padded quietly out of the console room without so much as a backwards glance.
The TARDIS was awfully quiet for having two people in it.
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Next week: No Place Like Houm