The Way of Things, Chapter 15
Title - The Way of Things (15/45)
Author - jlrpuck
Rating - K+ (oh noes!)
Pairing - Peter Carlisle/Rose Tyler
Spoilers - For both Blackpool and S2 of Doctor Who.
Disclaimer - Characters from Blackpool and Doctor Who are the property of the BBC, and are used with the greatest of love and respect; no profit is intended from the writing or sharing of this story.
Summary - A post-Doomsday story, set in the Alt!Verse. It's been over three years since Rose and the Doctor said goodbye. What happens when she not only meets his doppelganger, but has to work with him?
Author’s Notes - Well. Peter and Rose have certainly taken a step forward, if the events at the warehouse are any indication. Still, there’s work to be done before they can further explore what they started.
earlgreytea68 and arctacuda have been fabulous, patient beta’s, and I’m much indebted to them for their help. rosa_acicularishas been teh awesome, providing lovely comments and serving as the final set of eyes for me prior to posting. misssara11 is the one who encouraged me to start writing in the first place, and who read over my early efforts at this story.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 | Chapter 27 | Chapter 28 | Chapter 29 | Chapter 30 | Chapter 31 | Chapter 32 | Chapter 33 | Chapter 34 | Chapter 35 | Chapter 36 | Chapter 37 | Chapter 38 | Chapter 39 | Chapter 40 | Chapter 41 | Chapter 42 | Chapter 43 | Chapter 44 | Epilogue
The afternoon seemed to drag on forever. Rose looked at her watch, noting that it was only a minute later than the last time she had looked at it; and that had only been a minute later than the time before. After she and Peter had returned to the station, she had briefly spoken with Mickey--bringing him up to speed on the complete lack of anything useful from the warehouse before he and the DI wandered off to meet with Philippa’s accomplice. Mickey hadn’t had the chance to speak with Swinson, he and Penington having arrived only just before she and Peter had returned. Penington and Mickey both were excited to have Peter back, were both eager enough to begin formally questioning the man that Peter’s request for lunch was brushed off. She thought the DC might be taking his career in his own hands by so readily agreeing with Mickey that lunch could wait, and she’d stifled a giggle at the DI’s horrified look and ensuing frantic dig through his desk for some form of snack. Mickey’s eagerness meant she hadn’t had an opportunity to tell him all that had transpired, but had let him know that she needed to speak with him later that afternoon.
While Mickey and the representatives of the North Lakes Constabulary were playing good cop/bad cop, she and Jake had gone back to the lab. They’d gone over it a thousand times in the weeks since McGreevy went missing, but Rose remained convinced that the key to the whole mystery lay in that lab. She was going to have to make another trip down to London at the end of the week, and she desperately wanted to be able to report additional positive progress in finding McGreevy. They could prove that McGreevy had interesting personal proclivities, and even that his fiancée was marrying him for the information he could provide and not for love. But there was nothing at all to prove that any of that had anything to do with McGreevy going missing.
Jake had poked and prodded the tech McGreevy had been working on, but had discovered nothing but frustration during the morning. They’d found none of McGreevy’s notes on what the thing may have done, and none of the tricks Jake had learned over his years at Torchwood had seemed to work. He’d been relieved when a representative from the Science Directorate had arrived on the 11am train to take possession of the piece, and had been excited to go back to the crime scene when Rose and Peter returned from their expedition.
Rose had been leaning against one of the walls in the lab, absentmindedly watching Jake dig around under one of the lab tables while she tried to focus on bringing the pieces of information into order. Frustrated, she turned around and kicked the wall-and almost laughed when she saw part of it give. Wandering to the doorway, she looked down the line of the wall, and then back out in the hallway. It looked like the wall bordered another office; and based on the laser measurements they had taken, there were no hidden rooms anywhere in the structure. Still, it was curious that the wall had given so easily. She wandered back and squatted down to look at where she had kicked, a small kernel of hope lodging in her gut. Maybe, just maybe, something clever was tucked away.
Half an hour later and Rose had to concede that there was nothing to find in the wall. She’d pulled a square meter of the plasterboard down from around where she kicked, and all she had found was evidence of poor craftsmanship. This case was going to drive her mad.
She stood back up, brushing her hands off on her pants. “Jake, this bloody lab is bloody useless.” She turned, expecting to see him still poking around under the lab table but finding him nowhere to be seen. “Jake?” She walked across the room, and nearly jumped out of her skin when Jake’s head popped up from the floor next to the lab table. He was grinning maniacally.
“I’ve found our safe room.”
Rose felt adrenaline course through her system, and hurried over to join Jake. He was standing on what looked like a small ledge; she could see several small steps leading down from the edge, and wondered at the impractical design. Clearly, the room wasn’t meant to be accessed easily.
She followed Jake down into the small, clean room, and Rose wondered how often McGreevy had visited it. Sitting against one wall was a small table and a chair; the desk lamp provided most of the light, although there was another lap tucked into the corner. The wall to the right of the desk was lined with bookshelves, and Rose gasped as she saw what was on it. All sorts of bits and bobs, many of them no doubt alien in nature, were lined up like displays at a museum. And tucked away in the lower corner of the set of cases closest to the desk were several black, hardbound books; books that looked remarkably like the journals they had found in McGreevy’s house.
“It’s the mother lode” she breathed. Jake grinned.
“Think there might be something useful in those?”
“Just maybe, yes.”
“We’re going to need help with this.”
“Bad luck Dr. Smith’s lackey already left…” Jake’s voice held anything but regret.
Rose smiled. “Isn’t it just?” She took another look around before turning back to the exit out of the slightly claustrophobic room. “Time for a few phone calls. You call James; I’ve a feeling he’s ready to be back out here with us. I’ll call Mickey.”
~ - ~
Peter sighed heavily as he leaned against the wall in McGreevy’s basement. The morning interrogation of Swinson had been relatively unsuccessful; he’d provided a solid alibi for the night McGreevy had disappeared, as well as explaining that he’d hoped to hire McGreevy to come work for him in the technological entrepreneurship. Swinson had appeared unaware of McGreevy’s real employer, but Peter still got the feeling that he knew far more than he was saying, and that Swinson was a man whose background bore far more investigation. Lacking any concrete reason to retain him, however, they had to let him go; Peter had then spent quite a bit of time jotting notes, coming up with a prioritised list of contacts and leads related to Swinson requiring further investigation, doing the basic work in an effort to keep his mind on task and also providing a nice tidy set of things for Penington to work on during the day.
After receiving a call from Jake that he and Rose had found the safe room in the lab-but had yet to find anything remotely interesting in it-Mickey had suggested they continue looking down in the cellar. By that time, Peter had been too distracted to argue. His kiss-kisses-with Rose, as well as their forthcoming dinner date, kept invading his thoughts. Not even the excitement brought about by significant progress on the case was able to dislodge his thoughts about the events of that morning. And so he found himself once more standing in the cellar of McGreevy’s cottage, his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the brick walls.
He and Mickey had dug around here and there in the cellar when they’d first arrived, thinking perhaps something had been missed by the group when they first unearthed the tech. The space was close and they’d quickly worked up a sweat; it hadn’t taken long for them to realize that digging randomly wasn’t going to reveal anything new. Mickey had decided to once more start working through what he’d learned from the journals, leaving Peter effectively alone with his thoughts.
As Mickey stood in the centre of the room, muttering to himself, Peter scuffed the floor with the toe of his shoe-the shine on it, never bright, had been done in by their exploration of the barn, and he made a mental note that he’d have to polish his shoes before dinner. He remained focused on the marks he was absentmindedly leaving in the dirt as he thought about where to take Rose. Going out to any of the places in town was out-people were going to talk, of course, but giving them fodder for gossip during the first date was idiotic. They could go up to Penrith or Keswick, he supposed, but the length of the drive ruled out any possibility of sharing a bottle of wine with Rose. Windermere was close by but, although quaint, the town was too…twee. He sighed heavily. So caught up in his own thoughts was he, that he missed Mickey staring at him and arching an eyebrow.
The two of them remained in their relative positions for several moments before Mickey broke the silence. “Y’ all right, mate?”
Peter’s head jerked up in surprise. Being so completely tangled in his own thoughts of the coming evening-and not one of them even remotely work-related-was a rarity for him when on the job. Mickey was giving him quite a piercing look. “Yeah, sorry. Just going over a few things in my mind.” Not a lie, and hopefully enough to get Mickey to leave well enough alone. He straightened up and removed his hands from his pockets as he walked over to where Mickey stood. “Do you still think there’s something else down here?”
Mickey looked around thoughtfully. “Yeah, I do. I don’t know, just…I have this feeling. Hairs on the back of my neck kind of stand on end down here, y’know?”
Peter looked around the dark space. Mickey seemed far from fanciful, and given his experience probably had excellent instincts. Peter slowly began to walk around the perimeter of the room, raking his eyes along the brick runners and courses that made up the cellar walls. Suddenly he paused and looked over at Mickey.
“These walls.” Mickey walked over towards Peter, curious about what he was starting to work out. “This house. It’s old, built in the eighteenth century. Right?” Mickey nodded, and Peter continued to think out loud. “Re-modelled just before our missing man moved in two years ago. They renovate the whole house. McGreevy has them leave the stone alone, because he ‘liked it’, right?” Mickey once again nodded. Peter turned to the wall and put his hand against it before turning back to Mickey. “Then why did they invoice McGreevy for masonry, and why are the cellar walls brick? The cellar walls should be stone-that’s what they’d have been when built.”
“Good point.”
Mickey and Peter turned to the wall directly next to them and began moving in opposite directions along the sides of the room. Peter found nothing, despite the intensity of his scrutiny, and it was with pursed lips that he met up with Mickey on the opposite side of the room.
“It’s got to be a perception filter,” Mickey stated confidently. Peter had no idea what he was talking about, and gave Mickey a questioning look. It was returned with a pitying glance. “Perception filter. Kind of a mental block on something-keeps people from seeing what’s right in front of them. If you know what you’re looking at or for, you can see right through it. Or, like us, if you have the right gadgets you can find a way around it. We just have to get the right gadgets up from the office.” Mickey walked over to the ladder out of the cellar.
Peter nodded. The concept made sense, although it seemed slightly surreal that such a thing existed. Taking another glance around-and seeing nothing but four brick walls-he followed Mickey up the ladder to the main floor of the library. As Mickey made a call-apparently to arrange for whatever it was he needed from London-Peter took another look around the still-sunny room. He found nothing new. He turned to Mickey as he rang off. “So. The filter keeps us from seeing what’s there. Then why bother putting brick up? Why not just leave stone and let the filter do its job?”
Mickey paused before replying. “Probably…it was easier to hide a small thing with the filter…or something small leading to a big thing...” Mickey’s eyes grew large. “A doorway.”
“Did we measure the dimensions of the room?”
“No, we found the tech and that was that.”
Peter swore-angry at himself for the oversight-and hastily rang back to the station to get a team out to start a painstaking cataloguing of the cellar. Assured that a team would work on it-and would be en route as soon as possible-he ended the call and turned to Mickey. “Will my colleagues be in any danger measuring down there?”
Mickey gave the question serious consideration. “They shouldn’t be. One of us will have to stay here with some stuff, to be safe.” Mickey made another phone call, apparently to Jake, to arrange for ‘some stuff’ to be brought over, ‘to be safe.’ Peter checked his watch. It had just gone half-five-where had the afternoon gone?-and he needed to get things in order fast if he was to make his seven o’clock date with Rose.
Date. Just the thought of the word made his heart speed up, and it was with slightly shaking fingers that he dialled Penington’s mobile to get him over to the house. If something did come up, he knew Penington would ring him directly. It sounded like Mickey and or Jake would be staying at the cottage, as well-the site would most assuredly be covered by people he trusted. Peter wandered out of the cottage and stared at the clear sky of early evening as he spoke with Penington, issuing orders, and requesting a brief update from the man on the day’s developments, including any potential results off the list of leads he’d given before leaving. He felt a brief twinge of guilt, like he was shirking his duty, but rationalized it with the thought that there was very little he’d be able to do until the measurements were taken and the filter was gone.
He had just finished talking with his DC when Mickey walked out and joined him on the path. Peter immediately noticed there had been a change in Mickey’s demeanour from when they had been inside, and barely had time to mentally form the word ‘Rose’ before having his suspicions confirmed.
“I spoke with Rose.” Mickey was standing facing him, arms crossed, his face relaxed but his body language threatening.
Peter put his hands in his pockets but remained silent.
“They found the safe room at the lab, as well as more journals.”
Peter couldn’t hide his surprise. “They did, did they? Don’t suppose they contained a magic treasure map or explicit directions to where he might be?”
Mickey didn’t look amused by his attempt at levity.
“They’re encrypted. There’s also more stuff down there, not sure what it is. We’ve got a bloke coming up from London in the morning to help out.”
Peter was hard pressed not to roll his eyes at the thought of yet more Torchwood employees joining in on the investigation. He liked the group he was working with well enough, but it was still a delicate balance. Mickey gave him a piercing look.
“They’re done for the night over there-not much they could do without some stuff from HQ, got some of your red shirts to guard it so they could call it a day.”
Peter gave a non-committal grunt, not quite sure what Mickey meant by ‘red-shirts’ but determining the gist from context.
“Rose mentioned that you were taking her out for dinner tonight.”
Peter nodded and answered cautiously. “I am.” He wasn’t quite sure where Mickey was going with this, and so stared calmly at the man. Mickey stared back, weighing his next words.
“Are you jerking her around?”
Peter couldn’t keep an expression of effrontery from crossing his face. “I should certainly hope not.”
“You realize if you treat her as anything less than the gem she is, you’ll have us to reckon with? And by us, I don’t just mean Jake and me.”
Peter swallowed. “I’m quite well aware of that fact, yes.”
There was a tense silence as Mickey continued to consider him, the dark-skinned man’s gaze intense and not a little threatening. Peter focused on not fidgeting, and fought down a flinch when Mickey spoke again.
“She said you were picking her up at seven.”
“I am.”
Another, brief, silence.
“Don’t you think you’d better go clean up? You look like shit.”
Peter was startled into a laugh by the comment. He looked down at his attire; he was dust-covered from their poking around in the cellar, and his hands were filthy. Seeing his shoes properly in the light, he became fairly sure he was never going to be able to get a shine back on them without a lot of effort. He looked back up at Mickey, whose entire posture had changed. The man smiled at him.
“Go on, then. Just…be careful with her, ok?” The man’s voice softened.
“You can trust me with her.”
Mickey nodded, once, shortly.
“Penny’s on his way. You’ve my number-call me if anything happens?”
“Rose would kill me if I didn’t.”
Peter grinned and started down the path to where the car was parked. As he opened the car door, he turned and saw Mickey turn to go back into the house, prepared to stand watch so he and Rose could have the night out. Peter dropped into the car, pulling the door shut behind him before starting the motor and driving off. He had an errand to run on his way home.
~ - ~
Chapter Sixteen
A/N: Many of you expressed interest in the reactions of Mickey and Jake. I honestly didn’t write much on that, preferring instead to move ahead to things developing further between Rose and Peter. If I get the chance this week, I hope to write a short ficlet which will get further into, at the very least, Jake’s reaction. No promises, but it’s definitely something I want to explore a little bit more. Thanks, as always, for your patience and your feedback. eta: The ficlet can be found here. JLR
Author - jlrpuck
Rating - K+ (oh noes!)
Pairing - Peter Carlisle/Rose Tyler
Spoilers - For both Blackpool and S2 of Doctor Who.
Disclaimer - Characters from Blackpool and Doctor Who are the property of the BBC, and are used with the greatest of love and respect; no profit is intended from the writing or sharing of this story.
Summary - A post-Doomsday story, set in the Alt!Verse. It's been over three years since Rose and the Doctor said goodbye. What happens when she not only meets his doppelganger, but has to work with him?
Author’s Notes - Well. Peter and Rose have certainly taken a step forward, if the events at the warehouse are any indication. Still, there’s work to be done before they can further explore what they started.
earlgreytea68 and arctacuda have been fabulous, patient beta’s, and I’m much indebted to them for their help. rosa_acicularishas been teh awesome, providing lovely comments and serving as the final set of eyes for me prior to posting. misssara11 is the one who encouraged me to start writing in the first place, and who read over my early efforts at this story.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 | Chapter 27 | Chapter 28 | Chapter 29 | Chapter 30 | Chapter 31 | Chapter 32 | Chapter 33 | Chapter 34 | Chapter 35 | Chapter 36 | Chapter 37 | Chapter 38 | Chapter 39 | Chapter 40 | Chapter 41 | Chapter 42 | Chapter 43 | Chapter 44 | Epilogue
The afternoon seemed to drag on forever. Rose looked at her watch, noting that it was only a minute later than the last time she had looked at it; and that had only been a minute later than the time before. After she and Peter had returned to the station, she had briefly spoken with Mickey--bringing him up to speed on the complete lack of anything useful from the warehouse before he and the DI wandered off to meet with Philippa’s accomplice. Mickey hadn’t had the chance to speak with Swinson, he and Penington having arrived only just before she and Peter had returned. Penington and Mickey both were excited to have Peter back, were both eager enough to begin formally questioning the man that Peter’s request for lunch was brushed off. She thought the DC might be taking his career in his own hands by so readily agreeing with Mickey that lunch could wait, and she’d stifled a giggle at the DI’s horrified look and ensuing frantic dig through his desk for some form of snack. Mickey’s eagerness meant she hadn’t had an opportunity to tell him all that had transpired, but had let him know that she needed to speak with him later that afternoon.
While Mickey and the representatives of the North Lakes Constabulary were playing good cop/bad cop, she and Jake had gone back to the lab. They’d gone over it a thousand times in the weeks since McGreevy went missing, but Rose remained convinced that the key to the whole mystery lay in that lab. She was going to have to make another trip down to London at the end of the week, and she desperately wanted to be able to report additional positive progress in finding McGreevy. They could prove that McGreevy had interesting personal proclivities, and even that his fiancée was marrying him for the information he could provide and not for love. But there was nothing at all to prove that any of that had anything to do with McGreevy going missing.
Jake had poked and prodded the tech McGreevy had been working on, but had discovered nothing but frustration during the morning. They’d found none of McGreevy’s notes on what the thing may have done, and none of the tricks Jake had learned over his years at Torchwood had seemed to work. He’d been relieved when a representative from the Science Directorate had arrived on the 11am train to take possession of the piece, and had been excited to go back to the crime scene when Rose and Peter returned from their expedition.
Rose had been leaning against one of the walls in the lab, absentmindedly watching Jake dig around under one of the lab tables while she tried to focus on bringing the pieces of information into order. Frustrated, she turned around and kicked the wall-and almost laughed when she saw part of it give. Wandering to the doorway, she looked down the line of the wall, and then back out in the hallway. It looked like the wall bordered another office; and based on the laser measurements they had taken, there were no hidden rooms anywhere in the structure. Still, it was curious that the wall had given so easily. She wandered back and squatted down to look at where she had kicked, a small kernel of hope lodging in her gut. Maybe, just maybe, something clever was tucked away.
Half an hour later and Rose had to concede that there was nothing to find in the wall. She’d pulled a square meter of the plasterboard down from around where she kicked, and all she had found was evidence of poor craftsmanship. This case was going to drive her mad.
She stood back up, brushing her hands off on her pants. “Jake, this bloody lab is bloody useless.” She turned, expecting to see him still poking around under the lab table but finding him nowhere to be seen. “Jake?” She walked across the room, and nearly jumped out of her skin when Jake’s head popped up from the floor next to the lab table. He was grinning maniacally.
“I’ve found our safe room.”
Rose felt adrenaline course through her system, and hurried over to join Jake. He was standing on what looked like a small ledge; she could see several small steps leading down from the edge, and wondered at the impractical design. Clearly, the room wasn’t meant to be accessed easily.
She followed Jake down into the small, clean room, and Rose wondered how often McGreevy had visited it. Sitting against one wall was a small table and a chair; the desk lamp provided most of the light, although there was another lap tucked into the corner. The wall to the right of the desk was lined with bookshelves, and Rose gasped as she saw what was on it. All sorts of bits and bobs, many of them no doubt alien in nature, were lined up like displays at a museum. And tucked away in the lower corner of the set of cases closest to the desk were several black, hardbound books; books that looked remarkably like the journals they had found in McGreevy’s house.
“It’s the mother lode” she breathed. Jake grinned.
“Think there might be something useful in those?”
“Just maybe, yes.”
“We’re going to need help with this.”
“Bad luck Dr. Smith’s lackey already left…” Jake’s voice held anything but regret.
Rose smiled. “Isn’t it just?” She took another look around before turning back to the exit out of the slightly claustrophobic room. “Time for a few phone calls. You call James; I’ve a feeling he’s ready to be back out here with us. I’ll call Mickey.”
~ - ~
Peter sighed heavily as he leaned against the wall in McGreevy’s basement. The morning interrogation of Swinson had been relatively unsuccessful; he’d provided a solid alibi for the night McGreevy had disappeared, as well as explaining that he’d hoped to hire McGreevy to come work for him in the technological entrepreneurship. Swinson had appeared unaware of McGreevy’s real employer, but Peter still got the feeling that he knew far more than he was saying, and that Swinson was a man whose background bore far more investigation. Lacking any concrete reason to retain him, however, they had to let him go; Peter had then spent quite a bit of time jotting notes, coming up with a prioritised list of contacts and leads related to Swinson requiring further investigation, doing the basic work in an effort to keep his mind on task and also providing a nice tidy set of things for Penington to work on during the day.
After receiving a call from Jake that he and Rose had found the safe room in the lab-but had yet to find anything remotely interesting in it-Mickey had suggested they continue looking down in the cellar. By that time, Peter had been too distracted to argue. His kiss-kisses-with Rose, as well as their forthcoming dinner date, kept invading his thoughts. Not even the excitement brought about by significant progress on the case was able to dislodge his thoughts about the events of that morning. And so he found himself once more standing in the cellar of McGreevy’s cottage, his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the brick walls.
He and Mickey had dug around here and there in the cellar when they’d first arrived, thinking perhaps something had been missed by the group when they first unearthed the tech. The space was close and they’d quickly worked up a sweat; it hadn’t taken long for them to realize that digging randomly wasn’t going to reveal anything new. Mickey had decided to once more start working through what he’d learned from the journals, leaving Peter effectively alone with his thoughts.
As Mickey stood in the centre of the room, muttering to himself, Peter scuffed the floor with the toe of his shoe-the shine on it, never bright, had been done in by their exploration of the barn, and he made a mental note that he’d have to polish his shoes before dinner. He remained focused on the marks he was absentmindedly leaving in the dirt as he thought about where to take Rose. Going out to any of the places in town was out-people were going to talk, of course, but giving them fodder for gossip during the first date was idiotic. They could go up to Penrith or Keswick, he supposed, but the length of the drive ruled out any possibility of sharing a bottle of wine with Rose. Windermere was close by but, although quaint, the town was too…twee. He sighed heavily. So caught up in his own thoughts was he, that he missed Mickey staring at him and arching an eyebrow.
The two of them remained in their relative positions for several moments before Mickey broke the silence. “Y’ all right, mate?”
Peter’s head jerked up in surprise. Being so completely tangled in his own thoughts of the coming evening-and not one of them even remotely work-related-was a rarity for him when on the job. Mickey was giving him quite a piercing look. “Yeah, sorry. Just going over a few things in my mind.” Not a lie, and hopefully enough to get Mickey to leave well enough alone. He straightened up and removed his hands from his pockets as he walked over to where Mickey stood. “Do you still think there’s something else down here?”
Mickey looked around thoughtfully. “Yeah, I do. I don’t know, just…I have this feeling. Hairs on the back of my neck kind of stand on end down here, y’know?”
Peter looked around the dark space. Mickey seemed far from fanciful, and given his experience probably had excellent instincts. Peter slowly began to walk around the perimeter of the room, raking his eyes along the brick runners and courses that made up the cellar walls. Suddenly he paused and looked over at Mickey.
“These walls.” Mickey walked over towards Peter, curious about what he was starting to work out. “This house. It’s old, built in the eighteenth century. Right?” Mickey nodded, and Peter continued to think out loud. “Re-modelled just before our missing man moved in two years ago. They renovate the whole house. McGreevy has them leave the stone alone, because he ‘liked it’, right?” Mickey once again nodded. Peter turned to the wall and put his hand against it before turning back to Mickey. “Then why did they invoice McGreevy for masonry, and why are the cellar walls brick? The cellar walls should be stone-that’s what they’d have been when built.”
“Good point.”
Mickey and Peter turned to the wall directly next to them and began moving in opposite directions along the sides of the room. Peter found nothing, despite the intensity of his scrutiny, and it was with pursed lips that he met up with Mickey on the opposite side of the room.
“It’s got to be a perception filter,” Mickey stated confidently. Peter had no idea what he was talking about, and gave Mickey a questioning look. It was returned with a pitying glance. “Perception filter. Kind of a mental block on something-keeps people from seeing what’s right in front of them. If you know what you’re looking at or for, you can see right through it. Or, like us, if you have the right gadgets you can find a way around it. We just have to get the right gadgets up from the office.” Mickey walked over to the ladder out of the cellar.
Peter nodded. The concept made sense, although it seemed slightly surreal that such a thing existed. Taking another glance around-and seeing nothing but four brick walls-he followed Mickey up the ladder to the main floor of the library. As Mickey made a call-apparently to arrange for whatever it was he needed from London-Peter took another look around the still-sunny room. He found nothing new. He turned to Mickey as he rang off. “So. The filter keeps us from seeing what’s there. Then why bother putting brick up? Why not just leave stone and let the filter do its job?”
Mickey paused before replying. “Probably…it was easier to hide a small thing with the filter…or something small leading to a big thing...” Mickey’s eyes grew large. “A doorway.”
“Did we measure the dimensions of the room?”
“No, we found the tech and that was that.”
Peter swore-angry at himself for the oversight-and hastily rang back to the station to get a team out to start a painstaking cataloguing of the cellar. Assured that a team would work on it-and would be en route as soon as possible-he ended the call and turned to Mickey. “Will my colleagues be in any danger measuring down there?”
Mickey gave the question serious consideration. “They shouldn’t be. One of us will have to stay here with some stuff, to be safe.” Mickey made another phone call, apparently to Jake, to arrange for ‘some stuff’ to be brought over, ‘to be safe.’ Peter checked his watch. It had just gone half-five-where had the afternoon gone?-and he needed to get things in order fast if he was to make his seven o’clock date with Rose.
Date. Just the thought of the word made his heart speed up, and it was with slightly shaking fingers that he dialled Penington’s mobile to get him over to the house. If something did come up, he knew Penington would ring him directly. It sounded like Mickey and or Jake would be staying at the cottage, as well-the site would most assuredly be covered by people he trusted. Peter wandered out of the cottage and stared at the clear sky of early evening as he spoke with Penington, issuing orders, and requesting a brief update from the man on the day’s developments, including any potential results off the list of leads he’d given before leaving. He felt a brief twinge of guilt, like he was shirking his duty, but rationalized it with the thought that there was very little he’d be able to do until the measurements were taken and the filter was gone.
He had just finished talking with his DC when Mickey walked out and joined him on the path. Peter immediately noticed there had been a change in Mickey’s demeanour from when they had been inside, and barely had time to mentally form the word ‘Rose’ before having his suspicions confirmed.
“I spoke with Rose.” Mickey was standing facing him, arms crossed, his face relaxed but his body language threatening.
Peter put his hands in his pockets but remained silent.
“They found the safe room at the lab, as well as more journals.”
Peter couldn’t hide his surprise. “They did, did they? Don’t suppose they contained a magic treasure map or explicit directions to where he might be?”
Mickey didn’t look amused by his attempt at levity.
“They’re encrypted. There’s also more stuff down there, not sure what it is. We’ve got a bloke coming up from London in the morning to help out.”
Peter was hard pressed not to roll his eyes at the thought of yet more Torchwood employees joining in on the investigation. He liked the group he was working with well enough, but it was still a delicate balance. Mickey gave him a piercing look.
“They’re done for the night over there-not much they could do without some stuff from HQ, got some of your red shirts to guard it so they could call it a day.”
Peter gave a non-committal grunt, not quite sure what Mickey meant by ‘red-shirts’ but determining the gist from context.
“Rose mentioned that you were taking her out for dinner tonight.”
Peter nodded and answered cautiously. “I am.” He wasn’t quite sure where Mickey was going with this, and so stared calmly at the man. Mickey stared back, weighing his next words.
“Are you jerking her around?”
Peter couldn’t keep an expression of effrontery from crossing his face. “I should certainly hope not.”
“You realize if you treat her as anything less than the gem she is, you’ll have us to reckon with? And by us, I don’t just mean Jake and me.”
Peter swallowed. “I’m quite well aware of that fact, yes.”
There was a tense silence as Mickey continued to consider him, the dark-skinned man’s gaze intense and not a little threatening. Peter focused on not fidgeting, and fought down a flinch when Mickey spoke again.
“She said you were picking her up at seven.”
“I am.”
Another, brief, silence.
“Don’t you think you’d better go clean up? You look like shit.”
Peter was startled into a laugh by the comment. He looked down at his attire; he was dust-covered from their poking around in the cellar, and his hands were filthy. Seeing his shoes properly in the light, he became fairly sure he was never going to be able to get a shine back on them without a lot of effort. He looked back up at Mickey, whose entire posture had changed. The man smiled at him.
“Go on, then. Just…be careful with her, ok?” The man’s voice softened.
“You can trust me with her.”
Mickey nodded, once, shortly.
“Penny’s on his way. You’ve my number-call me if anything happens?”
“Rose would kill me if I didn’t.”
Peter grinned and started down the path to where the car was parked. As he opened the car door, he turned and saw Mickey turn to go back into the house, prepared to stand watch so he and Rose could have the night out. Peter dropped into the car, pulling the door shut behind him before starting the motor and driving off. He had an errand to run on his way home.
~ - ~
Chapter Sixteen
A/N: Many of you expressed interest in the reactions of Mickey and Jake. I honestly didn’t write much on that, preferring instead to move ahead to things developing further between Rose and Peter. If I get the chance this week, I hope to write a short ficlet which will get further into, at the very least, Jake’s reaction. No promises, but it’s definitely something I want to explore a little bit more. Thanks, as always, for your patience and your feedback. eta: The ficlet can be found here. JLR