The Way of Things, Chapter 21
Title - The Way of Things (21/45)
Author - jlrpuck
Rating - K+
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 - Peter and Rose have agreed to take some ‘time off’ from their developing relationship; meanwhile, the case continues to frustrate them both.
I’m not quite back yet, but decided it would be best to post this while I was somewhat awake-thus, this is being posted before I fly home, which means I probably won’t be responding to comments until tomorrow. I’ll be reading them, of course, but cogent thought won’t be an option for me by the time I get home in…far too many hours to really contemplate.
As always, I can’t say enough about how awesome my betas, earlgreytea68 and arctacuda, have been (and I’m not just writing that because arctacuda has been my travelling buddy these past ten days;)). rosa_acicularis has been incredibly generous in providing the final read-through of this, and I’m actually feeling a bit guilty right now for taking so damned long to beta something she sent me pre-vacation. 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
Rose sighed, rubbing her eyes in the hope that, when they cleared, the letters and shapes in front of her would make sense. No luck-the matrix in front of her stubbornly refused to resolve into a pattern of any sort.
She leaned her chair back onto two legs, arms overhead and face tilted towards the ceiling as much for a stretch as for a break from staring at the analyses and theories scattered across the table in front of her. It had been four days since they’d fished Philippa out of the Kent, and the case had stalled. McGreevy had-once again-disappeared, and Swinson was still missing; she wondered if she was the only one questioning the competency of the various police services in the country, up to and including Torchwood.
At least she had a reasonable hope of hearing something out of the Science Directorate. They’d had the tech for nearly a week now, and they had a knack for issuing status reports at the end of the week. In addition, James, Jake, and Mickey were back at the lab. They’d spent the week in the safe room under the lab, going through the knick-knacks on the shelves, pulling the books down and poring through them for anything of import. Mickey had once again set to deciphering the journals they’d found down in the room; this set were encrypted with a much tougher cipher, and he’d been giving himself headaches trying to beat it. Rose had given him a deadline of the next day to break it before having the encrypted books shipped down to London.
Really, she’d just be grateful for any sort of information at this point, even something as simple as James saying he’d worked out what one of the dusty little alien gadgets did.
And then there was the matter of the DI. Since their chat on Sunday, they’d gone on a few casual dates-actually, she corrected herself, it was generous to even call them ‘dates.’ The group had gone for dinner together a few times-she’d been amused to watch the not-so-subtle machinations of the team to make sure she and Peter sat next to each other-and they’d managed to go out for lunch once or twice as well. She wanted to go on another full-fledged, honest-to-goodness date with him, but what she felt she needed to tell him was weighing heavily on her. She knew she wasn’t going to be able to tell him everything at once, so it was a matter of working out what was the most important thing to get into the open.
Clearly, if she was going to pursue any kind of physical relationship with the man-just thinking about doing so made her flush with heat-he deserved to know about the Doctor. As Mickey had told her, the sooner the better on filling the DI in on her past. She had a feeling he wasn’t going to like hearing about it no matter when she told him, so far better he know from the outset.
She balanced her weight forward, prepared to go back to trying to find any additional links in the case rather than working out her personal problems in the middle of the station. As the chair legs landed with a hard thud on the concrete, she noticed Carlisle staring at her from his side of the table. His hair was ruffled from where he’d been running his hands through it, and he had his glasses on; his elbows still rested on the table. He gave her a small smile, caught out, and she blushed. His smile only grew larger, damn him, and the twinkle in his eyes was evident across the table.
He’d been even more of a flirt since their talk, taking to leaning casually against the table as she worked, or crowding her whenever they were standing in proximity. The heat that periodically appeared in his gaze would often catch her off-guard, and the slow smile that invariably followed as he gauged her reaction was distracting in the extreme. He’d made an art form out of stripping his coat off in the morning. He always knew where she was in the room and ensured that she had the best view as he slowly arched out of it, taking great pains to hang it on the coat rack by the door; she’d tried to hide in the interrogation room they’d taken over, but the blasted tease would simply walk in and take it off in there. Once the coat was gone, he’d slowly unbutton his cuffs and gently push his sleeves up his forearms. If it was particularly warm in the room-and to Rose, it always seemed so when he was playing his little games-he’d strip off his sweater, mussing his hair, before delicately rolling his shirtsleeves up his arms. Rose found herself entranced by his hands and forearms, and couldn’t help but watch as he performed the ritual. She’d no idea something so mundane could be so seductive.
Yes, the DI was keeping the promise he’d given her by the riverside, in letter if not in intent.
The thing of it was, she didn’t mind one bit. The flirting, the innuendo--the step back might have been the most effective way of building sexual tension he could have come up with. If she didn’t inexplicably trust him so much, she might cynically wonder if he was manipulating her. Rose licked her lips, thinking of their hilltop date: the kisses; the intense, immediate physicality of Peter; and how easily she had responded to him. His openness and sincerity the next evening as he’d told her about Blackpool was just as seductive, the trust he’d showed causing her to feel another flash of heat. She was falling for him, no question--was, in fact, already dangerously in lust with him.
All the more reason to tell him, then, to get the things-as she referred to them-out of the way so they could move forward unimpeded.
She realized she was still staring at the Inspector, and felt a small burst of pleasure as she noted he had blushed under her scrutiny. She gave him a measured smile of her own, standing and slowly walking to his side of the table. His eyes remained on her, unblinking, as she closed the short distance between them.
“Tyler.” His voice was hoarse, and she had to bite her lip to suppress a grin.
“Carlisle.” Her voice was deeper than normal, and she was delighted to see his pupils dilate.
“How may I be of service?” His voice, too, had dropped, and Rose felt her body respond. Carlisle noticed, and his lips quirked.
“I thought you might like a bite.”
“Oh, definitely.” The words were growled out; Rose took a step as he leaned forward.
“Lovely. What’s for lunch?” She grinned, her tongue resting lightly at the corner of her mouth. Peter’s eyes lingered there for a moment before he responded.
“That’s not the kind of bite I had in mind, Rose.” He said it very softly, standing and stepping forward.
She had no witty retort for that, not having expected him to play along quite so thoroughly. She stared at him, standing not even a foot away, her breath shallow; her mind raced as the DI gazed at her.
She practically leapt out of her skin when the door banged open to reveal Mickey. Peter turned expectantly to the interloper, while Rose was grateful for the chance to calm down and catch her breath.
“Please tell me you’ve found something? Something new, or exciting, or even just illicit?” Peter’s voice was droll.
Mickey grinned. “Nah, nothing new. James is still oohing and aahing over the toys, even though they looked as though they haven’t been touched in years. Jake was making fun of some of the books when I left. As for those journals,” he turned to Rose. “No progress. Sorry.”
She sighed. “Not your fault. Something’ll give…eventually.” Mickey gave her a steady glance, and she averted her eyes; she felt Peter watching the two of them carefully. “So. What brings you here?”
“Lunch run. Thought you might be hungry, as well, and I needed to stop by for my notes anyway…” Mickey held up a paper bag. Rose saw Peter perk up out of the corner of her eye, and she suppressed a grin. So much for the idea of a lunch date.
The three of them ate companionably around the table, the two men talking sport while Rose remained content to just observe. She didn’t get much down time, as it were, with Peter, and she enjoyed watching he and Mickey act like two normal blokes. Despite carrying on a lively conversation, Peter still managed to distract Rose; he found ways to lightly draw his hand across hers as he reached for things, or to lightly brush his leg against hers. At one point, he tried to play footsie with her, causing her to choke on her drink. Mickey had the good grace to pretend not to notice that the two of them were acting like teenagers, and lunch was soon over.
“You two going to be ok unsupervised?” he asked as the three of them cleared the table of the sandwich wrappers. Rose blushed, and Peter grinned.
“Oh, no need to worry about us. We’ll find plenty to keep us occupied.” Peter’s innocent tone was a stark contrast to the mischievous glint in his eyes.
“That’s what worries me,” Mickey muttered good-humouredly. He paused by the door and gave them a stern glance. “You two behave yourselves. We’ll be at the lab, and should be back for the pow-wow at five.”
Peter nodded, and Rose stood.
“Be careful.”
Mickey gave her a long-suffering look. “I’m not the one who was called jeopardy friendly.” He grinned and walked out the door. Rose stared after him; she had a nagging feeling that she ought to be out at the lab with her team rather than tucked away in their base of operations, flirting with the lead Detective.
“He’ll be fine, you know.” Peter’s voice was low and right beside her ear. Rose, once more, felt herself blush.
“I’m sure he will. I was more wondering if I shouldn’t be over at the lab with them.” She took a step away and turned to face him.
Peter put his hands in his pockets, affecting an air of nonchalance. “You’d rather not be here?”
She stared at him in disbelief. Either the hint of hurt was real, or he was a damned good actor. She couldn’t believe how mercurial he could be.
“Are you daft?”
He shrugged, and once again closed the distance between them. “Maybe. If I am, it’s down to you.”
Rose was mesmerized by his gaze, and was suddenly quite grateful that they’d papered over the one-way mirror in the room. She licked her lips; his already dark eyes seemed to go a shade darker. Her eyes closed as he leaned down, and she practically melted as he brushed the lightest of kisses over her lips.
She slowly opened her eyes and saw that he’d taken a step back. He nervously rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, running it up through his hair-Rose felt her fingers itch with the desire to run through that tempting hair.
“Sorry,” he said, ruefully.
“No, you’re not.”
He met her gaze, a slight smirk at the corners of his mouth. “No. Not at all.”
She laughed. “Make it up to me, then?”
He froze, his expression somewhere between surprise and hope. She stepped towards him. “Dinner, you. Not that. You’ve got quite the dirty mind.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You’ve only just worked that out? Tsk. I thought you were cleverer than that.”
She lightly swatted at him, and he quickly captured her hand. She could feel the heat travel from her hand, up her arm, washing over her body, and her breath caught. She really needed to tell him about the Doctor so she could enjoy the feelings he caused in her.
He held her gaze, raising her hand to his lips and giving her palm a soft kiss. Releasing her hand, he leaned forward. “Just dinner, then?”
She definitely needed to tell him.
“Yes,” she said softly.
“Dinner it is. No dessert.” Peter smiled and stepped back. “Maybe we’ll even be lucky enough to eat in a proper restaurant this time. Tables, chairs-perhaps even a roof, although I offer no promises.”
“That’s positively extravagant. I’ll be sure to wear my best T-shirt.”
He laughed and, after releasing her hand, walked back to his chair on the opposite side of the table. Sitting, he reached for his glasses and slowly put them back on; Rose couldn’t help but stare, and from the wicked glint in the Inspector’s eye she was quite sure he was well aware of the effect on her. She forced her gaze away and moved to take her own seat.
“Don’t’ feel you have to stay because of me. I’m fairly sure I’ll not muck things up if left to my own devices.” “I’m sure you’d do just fine on your own, Carlisle.”
“Thank you so much, Tyler.”
She grinned. “I’d just be in the way over there. Far better to stay here and try to deal with some of the paperwork that none of the team seem to want to do. And, maybe, to babysit the locals.” She winked and was rewarded with a look of astonishment before she returned her gaze to the papers in front of her. They settled into comfortable silence and resumed work, as Rose tried to convince herself that she was staying at the station because she needed to do paperwork, and not for any other reason.
~ - ~
James had clearly had fun playing with the toys he’d found in the safe room, but at the end of the day he still couldn’t say what it was that each of them did. That was the best news to come out of the end-of-day briefing that the group held in their base of operations: at least James had something physical to work with. The rest of the group was still working with theories or-in Mickey’s case-literally indecipherable documents. Peter could see how frustrated Rose was, and he noted the worried looks Mickey kept shooting her. In amongst everything that had been going on, he’d not really paused to consider what it was her superiors must be asking for; he wondered how long they’d leave a team of four in the field before deciding that a case was a lost cause.
Penington had returned that afternoon, his trip to Swinson’s old haunts proving to be wildly ineffective, and Peter had a sneaking suspicion the DCI was going to swoop in shortly and claim the DC for some of his ‘special projects.’ The thought led him to wonder about what things were like at Torchwood. Were Torchwood cases always this maddening, or had it just been too long since he’d worked a case that was intensely challenging? He had to admit that, in spite of the frustration, he was enjoying himself.
The afternoon brief was just that: brief. Nothing new to report, tons of unanswered-or unanswerable-questions, and a general grumpiness in the room ensured the meeting wrapped up quickly. As he’d left, he’d not missed the glances from the three male members of the Torchwood team. If he made one wrong move with Rose, those three would find a way to repay him. No pressure there, he thought sarcastically.
He’d agreed to meet Rose for an early supper that night, and he found himself back in town, freshly showered and shaved, shortly after six. He was very, very tempted to bring Rose back to the house, to cook her supper, but he wasn’t entirely sure how well that would be received. Better to visit the finer-or just good--restaurants in town and wait for her to make the next move. She was interested in him, that much was clear-one didn’t have to be a detective to be able to see how she reacted when he was around-but there was still something holding her back. He’d abandoned digging around in her past shortly before Mickey had found the safe room-the leads had consistently pointed to dead ends-and now he was trying very hard to respect her privacy, to give her a chance to tell him whatever it was that had been so well-buried.
Regardless of what was lurking in her past, he wanted to move the relationship along; he loved laughing with her when she unwound, loved talking with her, loved just being with her; his body, too, was crying out for her. He felt like he’d regressed to being a teenager again for the steps he was taking to relieve the physical demands his body was making.
That was the hardest part of waiting: forcing himself to keep the distance he’d promised her. He was worried that bringing her to his house might weaken the resolve within him to be patient-or eliminate it altogether.
Rose was waiting for him outside the hotel, and she looked surprised when he walked up to her. “No car?”
“No car. It’s a lovely evening, thought we might walk into town.”
She reached over and took his hand. “You sure about that? You know what the gossips will say.”
“I don’t bloody care what the gossips will say.” He watched her blush at the intensity of his statement, and he felt a nearly primal satisfaction. He leaned in and stole a quick kiss before setting off down the street.
“What master plan tonight?” Rose’s voice was light as they turned to cross the river, and he glanced over at her.
Her grin was the teasing one that drove him wild, and he was hard pressed not to kiss it off her lips right in the middle of the bridge. Instead, he pulled her lightly towards him. “Something with a roof, table, and chairs, correct?”
“Mm. I know you weren’t comfortable promising those things, but it would be lovely if you could pull it off.”
“I’ll see what I can conjure for you.”
They had reached the pub the team often frequented, and he paused outside it. With his free hand, he reached towards the door; Rose was trying desperately to control her expression, but he could still see the hint of disappointment. He dropped his hand and winked, and he could hear Rose laugh as he began walking towards the high street.
They walked companionably, clasped hands swinging in between them. Every now and then Peter would stop to point something out that she’d not yet seen, or detour them down one of the side streets to point out a shop or something in the window. It was almost an hour later that they made it to the other end of the pedestrian zone that comprised the town centre.
“You certainly do enjoy taking the scenic route,” Rose commented as they stood in front of the old town hall.
“Are you in such a rush, then?” He kept a poker face, and was rewarded with a smile. He felt his heart skip a beat.
“Fishing for compliments again, are we?”
He smiled. “From you? Always.”
She smiled but didn’t reply. They quickly crossed the street, and he led her down the block, stopping suddenly in front of a yellow doorway. He glanced up to make sure he was at the right place before opening the door to a small restaurant. He watched her eyes light up as she realized the food was Spanish, and he gently guided her before him by placing his hand at the small of her back.
They were seated near the back at a small table for two, the dim lighting brightened only by candlelight and the table surrounded by relative quiet. Peter considered that he probably couldn’t have found a more romantic table if he’d tried.
Rose looked at her menu, her eyes skimming the list of what was on offer before lifting to meet his over the top of the colourful paper. “Going a bit outside your comfort zone of Chippies and takeaway, aren’t we?” He could see the laughter lurking in her eyes, and he felt an answering smile.
“It might surprise you to know that I’ve been to Spain quite a few times. And I even remember some of those trips-at least, enough to know I liked the food.”
The corners of Rose’s eyes crinkled as she grinned, and she looked back down at her menu. “I loved Barcelona,” she said quite sincerely before returning her attention to the choices in front of her. It wasn’t until after they’d been served drinks and placed their orders that they spoke again.
“When are they going to call you back for another visit to London?” Peter had so many things he wanted to ask her, but this seemed like the safest question. His gut was screaming at him that time was running out, and his instincts were rarely wrong.
Rose played with her silverware before raising her eyes to his.
“They wanted me back this weekend. For good.” Peter felt his stomach drop. “I told them we were close to solving this, and got them to give me another week. If we’ve not got anything by next Friday, I have to go back.” She sighed. “One month is more than enough time in their eyes; if things can’t be fixed in five weeks, they’re unfixable.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Quite.” She was gazing at him again with a quiet intensity, and Peter felt his stomach somersault. “It’s an organization that, for all it does, lacks imagination. They don’t understand that, sometimes, things don’t fit schedules or in neat little boxes.” Her lips quirked. “Ironic, don’t you think?”
He took a minute to collect his thoughts, desperate not to let her see how upset the thought of her leaving made him. “You go back. Then what?”
Rose resumed playing with her silverware. “Oh, Mickey and Jake will probably stay. But they’ll want at least two of us back.” She sighed, clearly weighing something; Peter swallowed. “I could pull in some favours to stay longer, but even then it would be hard to say I wanted to stay because…” She caught herself, raising her eyes to his guiltily. He felt a flash of hope, and held her gaze. He could see resolve build in her expression as she kept her eyes on his. “Because…I wanted to get to know the lead Detective a bit better.” She practically whispered the words, and her gaze returned once more to the table.
“Rose.” He kept his voice low and warm.
She slowly raised her eyes to his.
“Contrary to all belief, I do know how the train system operates. I’ve even been known to take the zeppelin a time or two.”
It had been the right thing to say, and she broke into laughter. “And here I thought you’d swum to Spain.” He grinned. “Oh, I know-and don’t think my team wouldn’t require frequent visits from their leader. But there’s something so…” She paused, looking for the right word. “It seems like another world up here. I’d miss it.”
He reached across the table and took her hand. “We’ll just have to make sure we find something big this week, then.” He gave her hand a squeeze.
Their tapas arrived shortly thereafter, and the rest of dinner passed with them exchanging stories of travel. It seemed to Peter that time passed far too quickly, and they were back outside the restaurant as the sun was just beginning to set. The light had taken on a lovely golden tone, making Rose seem to glow, and his breath caught as he looked at her. He’d only known her a month and he didn’t want to lose her. She grinned at him, completely unaware of the effect she was having, and took his hand. “Now where?”
“I seem to recall you weren’t interested in dessert.” They’d begun walking towards the parish church, and she lightly leaned in to him. “How about a walk instead?”
“That’d be lovely.” They ambled towards the church, and stopped in the small park near to it briefly to watch some teenagers play football. At a break in play, they continued on through the park, and Peter brought her to a stop as they reached the riverside.
“Fancy a proper tour of the Castle?” The ruins were visible in front of them, a lovely shade of warm grey against the blue sky, and Rose nodded. “I’d like that.”
They crossed the pedestrian bridge and Peter took the long way once on the opposite bank, walking through another small park before reaching the path to the ruins. They passed a few cyclists and people dog-walking, but as they reached the top of the hill they found they had the actual ruins to themselves.
Rose’s cheeks were a lovely pink by the time they had finished clambering over the remnants of the once-powerful castle, and he found himself quite glad that he’d decided to bring her back up to the site of their first date. He ended the tour by bringing her to the top of the one remaining tower. The view over the town was beautiful, and the grey stone below was peaceful against the bright green of the surrounding countryside.
The two of them were standing at the edge of the tower wall, taking in the view, when Rose turned to him. He held his breath as she leaned forward, holding his gaze until she was only inches away; her eyes fluttered shut as she closed the distance and gave him a soft, lingering kiss. He found himself wrapping her in his arms, trying to keep the kiss as light as she wanted, his eyes closed but his body acutely attuned to the feel of her against him. She slowly pulled away, and he opened his eyes to see hers fluttering back open. She looked dazed and not a little bit surprised.
He waited for her to speak, his arms resting lightly against her waist. His eyes traced her features as she composed herself; if she was going to leave, he wanted to remember her like this, the setting sun bathing her in soft, golden light.
Rose finally figured out how to say what she was thinking; her voice was rough at first. “I don’t want to lose this.” She met his eyes; he was surprised at the intensity of emotion there.
“Neither do I.”
They stood wrapped in each other’s arms for quite some time, watching the sun set.
~ - ~
Chapter Twenty-two
Author - jlrpuck
Rating - K+
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 - Peter and Rose have agreed to take some ‘time off’ from their developing relationship; meanwhile, the case continues to frustrate them both.
I’m not quite back yet, but decided it would be best to post this while I was somewhat awake-thus, this is being posted before I fly home, which means I probably won’t be responding to comments until tomorrow. I’ll be reading them, of course, but cogent thought won’t be an option for me by the time I get home in…far too many hours to really contemplate.
As always, I can’t say enough about how awesome my betas, earlgreytea68 and arctacuda, have been (and I’m not just writing that because arctacuda has been my travelling buddy these past ten days;)). rosa_acicularis has been incredibly generous in providing the final read-through of this, and I’m actually feeling a bit guilty right now for taking so damned long to beta something she sent me pre-vacation. 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
Rose sighed, rubbing her eyes in the hope that, when they cleared, the letters and shapes in front of her would make sense. No luck-the matrix in front of her stubbornly refused to resolve into a pattern of any sort.
She leaned her chair back onto two legs, arms overhead and face tilted towards the ceiling as much for a stretch as for a break from staring at the analyses and theories scattered across the table in front of her. It had been four days since they’d fished Philippa out of the Kent, and the case had stalled. McGreevy had-once again-disappeared, and Swinson was still missing; she wondered if she was the only one questioning the competency of the various police services in the country, up to and including Torchwood.
At least she had a reasonable hope of hearing something out of the Science Directorate. They’d had the tech for nearly a week now, and they had a knack for issuing status reports at the end of the week. In addition, James, Jake, and Mickey were back at the lab. They’d spent the week in the safe room under the lab, going through the knick-knacks on the shelves, pulling the books down and poring through them for anything of import. Mickey had once again set to deciphering the journals they’d found down in the room; this set were encrypted with a much tougher cipher, and he’d been giving himself headaches trying to beat it. Rose had given him a deadline of the next day to break it before having the encrypted books shipped down to London.
Really, she’d just be grateful for any sort of information at this point, even something as simple as James saying he’d worked out what one of the dusty little alien gadgets did.
And then there was the matter of the DI. Since their chat on Sunday, they’d gone on a few casual dates-actually, she corrected herself, it was generous to even call them ‘dates.’ The group had gone for dinner together a few times-she’d been amused to watch the not-so-subtle machinations of the team to make sure she and Peter sat next to each other-and they’d managed to go out for lunch once or twice as well. She wanted to go on another full-fledged, honest-to-goodness date with him, but what she felt she needed to tell him was weighing heavily on her. She knew she wasn’t going to be able to tell him everything at once, so it was a matter of working out what was the most important thing to get into the open.
Clearly, if she was going to pursue any kind of physical relationship with the man-just thinking about doing so made her flush with heat-he deserved to know about the Doctor. As Mickey had told her, the sooner the better on filling the DI in on her past. She had a feeling he wasn’t going to like hearing about it no matter when she told him, so far better he know from the outset.
She balanced her weight forward, prepared to go back to trying to find any additional links in the case rather than working out her personal problems in the middle of the station. As the chair legs landed with a hard thud on the concrete, she noticed Carlisle staring at her from his side of the table. His hair was ruffled from where he’d been running his hands through it, and he had his glasses on; his elbows still rested on the table. He gave her a small smile, caught out, and she blushed. His smile only grew larger, damn him, and the twinkle in his eyes was evident across the table.
He’d been even more of a flirt since their talk, taking to leaning casually against the table as she worked, or crowding her whenever they were standing in proximity. The heat that periodically appeared in his gaze would often catch her off-guard, and the slow smile that invariably followed as he gauged her reaction was distracting in the extreme. He’d made an art form out of stripping his coat off in the morning. He always knew where she was in the room and ensured that she had the best view as he slowly arched out of it, taking great pains to hang it on the coat rack by the door; she’d tried to hide in the interrogation room they’d taken over, but the blasted tease would simply walk in and take it off in there. Once the coat was gone, he’d slowly unbutton his cuffs and gently push his sleeves up his forearms. If it was particularly warm in the room-and to Rose, it always seemed so when he was playing his little games-he’d strip off his sweater, mussing his hair, before delicately rolling his shirtsleeves up his arms. Rose found herself entranced by his hands and forearms, and couldn’t help but watch as he performed the ritual. She’d no idea something so mundane could be so seductive.
Yes, the DI was keeping the promise he’d given her by the riverside, in letter if not in intent.
The thing of it was, she didn’t mind one bit. The flirting, the innuendo--the step back might have been the most effective way of building sexual tension he could have come up with. If she didn’t inexplicably trust him so much, she might cynically wonder if he was manipulating her. Rose licked her lips, thinking of their hilltop date: the kisses; the intense, immediate physicality of Peter; and how easily she had responded to him. His openness and sincerity the next evening as he’d told her about Blackpool was just as seductive, the trust he’d showed causing her to feel another flash of heat. She was falling for him, no question--was, in fact, already dangerously in lust with him.
All the more reason to tell him, then, to get the things-as she referred to them-out of the way so they could move forward unimpeded.
She realized she was still staring at the Inspector, and felt a small burst of pleasure as she noted he had blushed under her scrutiny. She gave him a measured smile of her own, standing and slowly walking to his side of the table. His eyes remained on her, unblinking, as she closed the short distance between them.
“Tyler.” His voice was hoarse, and she had to bite her lip to suppress a grin.
“Carlisle.” Her voice was deeper than normal, and she was delighted to see his pupils dilate.
“How may I be of service?” His voice, too, had dropped, and Rose felt her body respond. Carlisle noticed, and his lips quirked.
“I thought you might like a bite.”
“Oh, definitely.” The words were growled out; Rose took a step as he leaned forward.
“Lovely. What’s for lunch?” She grinned, her tongue resting lightly at the corner of her mouth. Peter’s eyes lingered there for a moment before he responded.
“That’s not the kind of bite I had in mind, Rose.” He said it very softly, standing and stepping forward.
She had no witty retort for that, not having expected him to play along quite so thoroughly. She stared at him, standing not even a foot away, her breath shallow; her mind raced as the DI gazed at her.
She practically leapt out of her skin when the door banged open to reveal Mickey. Peter turned expectantly to the interloper, while Rose was grateful for the chance to calm down and catch her breath.
“Please tell me you’ve found something? Something new, or exciting, or even just illicit?” Peter’s voice was droll.
Mickey grinned. “Nah, nothing new. James is still oohing and aahing over the toys, even though they looked as though they haven’t been touched in years. Jake was making fun of some of the books when I left. As for those journals,” he turned to Rose. “No progress. Sorry.”
She sighed. “Not your fault. Something’ll give…eventually.” Mickey gave her a steady glance, and she averted her eyes; she felt Peter watching the two of them carefully. “So. What brings you here?”
“Lunch run. Thought you might be hungry, as well, and I needed to stop by for my notes anyway…” Mickey held up a paper bag. Rose saw Peter perk up out of the corner of her eye, and she suppressed a grin. So much for the idea of a lunch date.
The three of them ate companionably around the table, the two men talking sport while Rose remained content to just observe. She didn’t get much down time, as it were, with Peter, and she enjoyed watching he and Mickey act like two normal blokes. Despite carrying on a lively conversation, Peter still managed to distract Rose; he found ways to lightly draw his hand across hers as he reached for things, or to lightly brush his leg against hers. At one point, he tried to play footsie with her, causing her to choke on her drink. Mickey had the good grace to pretend not to notice that the two of them were acting like teenagers, and lunch was soon over.
“You two going to be ok unsupervised?” he asked as the three of them cleared the table of the sandwich wrappers. Rose blushed, and Peter grinned.
“Oh, no need to worry about us. We’ll find plenty to keep us occupied.” Peter’s innocent tone was a stark contrast to the mischievous glint in his eyes.
“That’s what worries me,” Mickey muttered good-humouredly. He paused by the door and gave them a stern glance. “You two behave yourselves. We’ll be at the lab, and should be back for the pow-wow at five.”
Peter nodded, and Rose stood.
“Be careful.”
Mickey gave her a long-suffering look. “I’m not the one who was called jeopardy friendly.” He grinned and walked out the door. Rose stared after him; she had a nagging feeling that she ought to be out at the lab with her team rather than tucked away in their base of operations, flirting with the lead Detective.
“He’ll be fine, you know.” Peter’s voice was low and right beside her ear. Rose, once more, felt herself blush.
“I’m sure he will. I was more wondering if I shouldn’t be over at the lab with them.” She took a step away and turned to face him.
Peter put his hands in his pockets, affecting an air of nonchalance. “You’d rather not be here?”
She stared at him in disbelief. Either the hint of hurt was real, or he was a damned good actor. She couldn’t believe how mercurial he could be.
“Are you daft?”
He shrugged, and once again closed the distance between them. “Maybe. If I am, it’s down to you.”
Rose was mesmerized by his gaze, and was suddenly quite grateful that they’d papered over the one-way mirror in the room. She licked her lips; his already dark eyes seemed to go a shade darker. Her eyes closed as he leaned down, and she practically melted as he brushed the lightest of kisses over her lips.
She slowly opened her eyes and saw that he’d taken a step back. He nervously rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, running it up through his hair-Rose felt her fingers itch with the desire to run through that tempting hair.
“Sorry,” he said, ruefully.
“No, you’re not.”
He met her gaze, a slight smirk at the corners of his mouth. “No. Not at all.”
She laughed. “Make it up to me, then?”
He froze, his expression somewhere between surprise and hope. She stepped towards him. “Dinner, you. Not that. You’ve got quite the dirty mind.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You’ve only just worked that out? Tsk. I thought you were cleverer than that.”
She lightly swatted at him, and he quickly captured her hand. She could feel the heat travel from her hand, up her arm, washing over her body, and her breath caught. She really needed to tell him about the Doctor so she could enjoy the feelings he caused in her.
He held her gaze, raising her hand to his lips and giving her palm a soft kiss. Releasing her hand, he leaned forward. “Just dinner, then?”
She definitely needed to tell him.
“Yes,” she said softly.
“Dinner it is. No dessert.” Peter smiled and stepped back. “Maybe we’ll even be lucky enough to eat in a proper restaurant this time. Tables, chairs-perhaps even a roof, although I offer no promises.”
“That’s positively extravagant. I’ll be sure to wear my best T-shirt.”
He laughed and, after releasing her hand, walked back to his chair on the opposite side of the table. Sitting, he reached for his glasses and slowly put them back on; Rose couldn’t help but stare, and from the wicked glint in the Inspector’s eye she was quite sure he was well aware of the effect on her. She forced her gaze away and moved to take her own seat.
“Don’t’ feel you have to stay because of me. I’m fairly sure I’ll not muck things up if left to my own devices.” “I’m sure you’d do just fine on your own, Carlisle.”
“Thank you so much, Tyler.”
She grinned. “I’d just be in the way over there. Far better to stay here and try to deal with some of the paperwork that none of the team seem to want to do. And, maybe, to babysit the locals.” She winked and was rewarded with a look of astonishment before she returned her gaze to the papers in front of her. They settled into comfortable silence and resumed work, as Rose tried to convince herself that she was staying at the station because she needed to do paperwork, and not for any other reason.
~ - ~
James had clearly had fun playing with the toys he’d found in the safe room, but at the end of the day he still couldn’t say what it was that each of them did. That was the best news to come out of the end-of-day briefing that the group held in their base of operations: at least James had something physical to work with. The rest of the group was still working with theories or-in Mickey’s case-literally indecipherable documents. Peter could see how frustrated Rose was, and he noted the worried looks Mickey kept shooting her. In amongst everything that had been going on, he’d not really paused to consider what it was her superiors must be asking for; he wondered how long they’d leave a team of four in the field before deciding that a case was a lost cause.
Penington had returned that afternoon, his trip to Swinson’s old haunts proving to be wildly ineffective, and Peter had a sneaking suspicion the DCI was going to swoop in shortly and claim the DC for some of his ‘special projects.’ The thought led him to wonder about what things were like at Torchwood. Were Torchwood cases always this maddening, or had it just been too long since he’d worked a case that was intensely challenging? He had to admit that, in spite of the frustration, he was enjoying himself.
The afternoon brief was just that: brief. Nothing new to report, tons of unanswered-or unanswerable-questions, and a general grumpiness in the room ensured the meeting wrapped up quickly. As he’d left, he’d not missed the glances from the three male members of the Torchwood team. If he made one wrong move with Rose, those three would find a way to repay him. No pressure there, he thought sarcastically.
He’d agreed to meet Rose for an early supper that night, and he found himself back in town, freshly showered and shaved, shortly after six. He was very, very tempted to bring Rose back to the house, to cook her supper, but he wasn’t entirely sure how well that would be received. Better to visit the finer-or just good--restaurants in town and wait for her to make the next move. She was interested in him, that much was clear-one didn’t have to be a detective to be able to see how she reacted when he was around-but there was still something holding her back. He’d abandoned digging around in her past shortly before Mickey had found the safe room-the leads had consistently pointed to dead ends-and now he was trying very hard to respect her privacy, to give her a chance to tell him whatever it was that had been so well-buried.
Regardless of what was lurking in her past, he wanted to move the relationship along; he loved laughing with her when she unwound, loved talking with her, loved just being with her; his body, too, was crying out for her. He felt like he’d regressed to being a teenager again for the steps he was taking to relieve the physical demands his body was making.
That was the hardest part of waiting: forcing himself to keep the distance he’d promised her. He was worried that bringing her to his house might weaken the resolve within him to be patient-or eliminate it altogether.
Rose was waiting for him outside the hotel, and she looked surprised when he walked up to her. “No car?”
“No car. It’s a lovely evening, thought we might walk into town.”
She reached over and took his hand. “You sure about that? You know what the gossips will say.”
“I don’t bloody care what the gossips will say.” He watched her blush at the intensity of his statement, and he felt a nearly primal satisfaction. He leaned in and stole a quick kiss before setting off down the street.
“What master plan tonight?” Rose’s voice was light as they turned to cross the river, and he glanced over at her.
Her grin was the teasing one that drove him wild, and he was hard pressed not to kiss it off her lips right in the middle of the bridge. Instead, he pulled her lightly towards him. “Something with a roof, table, and chairs, correct?”
“Mm. I know you weren’t comfortable promising those things, but it would be lovely if you could pull it off.”
“I’ll see what I can conjure for you.”
They had reached the pub the team often frequented, and he paused outside it. With his free hand, he reached towards the door; Rose was trying desperately to control her expression, but he could still see the hint of disappointment. He dropped his hand and winked, and he could hear Rose laugh as he began walking towards the high street.
They walked companionably, clasped hands swinging in between them. Every now and then Peter would stop to point something out that she’d not yet seen, or detour them down one of the side streets to point out a shop or something in the window. It was almost an hour later that they made it to the other end of the pedestrian zone that comprised the town centre.
“You certainly do enjoy taking the scenic route,” Rose commented as they stood in front of the old town hall.
“Are you in such a rush, then?” He kept a poker face, and was rewarded with a smile. He felt his heart skip a beat.
“Fishing for compliments again, are we?”
He smiled. “From you? Always.”
She smiled but didn’t reply. They quickly crossed the street, and he led her down the block, stopping suddenly in front of a yellow doorway. He glanced up to make sure he was at the right place before opening the door to a small restaurant. He watched her eyes light up as she realized the food was Spanish, and he gently guided her before him by placing his hand at the small of her back.
They were seated near the back at a small table for two, the dim lighting brightened only by candlelight and the table surrounded by relative quiet. Peter considered that he probably couldn’t have found a more romantic table if he’d tried.
Rose looked at her menu, her eyes skimming the list of what was on offer before lifting to meet his over the top of the colourful paper. “Going a bit outside your comfort zone of Chippies and takeaway, aren’t we?” He could see the laughter lurking in her eyes, and he felt an answering smile.
“It might surprise you to know that I’ve been to Spain quite a few times. And I even remember some of those trips-at least, enough to know I liked the food.”
The corners of Rose’s eyes crinkled as she grinned, and she looked back down at her menu. “I loved Barcelona,” she said quite sincerely before returning her attention to the choices in front of her. It wasn’t until after they’d been served drinks and placed their orders that they spoke again.
“When are they going to call you back for another visit to London?” Peter had so many things he wanted to ask her, but this seemed like the safest question. His gut was screaming at him that time was running out, and his instincts were rarely wrong.
Rose played with her silverware before raising her eyes to his.
“They wanted me back this weekend. For good.” Peter felt his stomach drop. “I told them we were close to solving this, and got them to give me another week. If we’ve not got anything by next Friday, I have to go back.” She sighed. “One month is more than enough time in their eyes; if things can’t be fixed in five weeks, they’re unfixable.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Quite.” She was gazing at him again with a quiet intensity, and Peter felt his stomach somersault. “It’s an organization that, for all it does, lacks imagination. They don’t understand that, sometimes, things don’t fit schedules or in neat little boxes.” Her lips quirked. “Ironic, don’t you think?”
He took a minute to collect his thoughts, desperate not to let her see how upset the thought of her leaving made him. “You go back. Then what?”
Rose resumed playing with her silverware. “Oh, Mickey and Jake will probably stay. But they’ll want at least two of us back.” She sighed, clearly weighing something; Peter swallowed. “I could pull in some favours to stay longer, but even then it would be hard to say I wanted to stay because…” She caught herself, raising her eyes to his guiltily. He felt a flash of hope, and held her gaze. He could see resolve build in her expression as she kept her eyes on his. “Because…I wanted to get to know the lead Detective a bit better.” She practically whispered the words, and her gaze returned once more to the table.
“Rose.” He kept his voice low and warm.
She slowly raised her eyes to his.
“Contrary to all belief, I do know how the train system operates. I’ve even been known to take the zeppelin a time or two.”
It had been the right thing to say, and she broke into laughter. “And here I thought you’d swum to Spain.” He grinned. “Oh, I know-and don’t think my team wouldn’t require frequent visits from their leader. But there’s something so…” She paused, looking for the right word. “It seems like another world up here. I’d miss it.”
He reached across the table and took her hand. “We’ll just have to make sure we find something big this week, then.” He gave her hand a squeeze.
Their tapas arrived shortly thereafter, and the rest of dinner passed with them exchanging stories of travel. It seemed to Peter that time passed far too quickly, and they were back outside the restaurant as the sun was just beginning to set. The light had taken on a lovely golden tone, making Rose seem to glow, and his breath caught as he looked at her. He’d only known her a month and he didn’t want to lose her. She grinned at him, completely unaware of the effect she was having, and took his hand. “Now where?”
“I seem to recall you weren’t interested in dessert.” They’d begun walking towards the parish church, and she lightly leaned in to him. “How about a walk instead?”
“That’d be lovely.” They ambled towards the church, and stopped in the small park near to it briefly to watch some teenagers play football. At a break in play, they continued on through the park, and Peter brought her to a stop as they reached the riverside.
“Fancy a proper tour of the Castle?” The ruins were visible in front of them, a lovely shade of warm grey against the blue sky, and Rose nodded. “I’d like that.”
They crossed the pedestrian bridge and Peter took the long way once on the opposite bank, walking through another small park before reaching the path to the ruins. They passed a few cyclists and people dog-walking, but as they reached the top of the hill they found they had the actual ruins to themselves.
Rose’s cheeks were a lovely pink by the time they had finished clambering over the remnants of the once-powerful castle, and he found himself quite glad that he’d decided to bring her back up to the site of their first date. He ended the tour by bringing her to the top of the one remaining tower. The view over the town was beautiful, and the grey stone below was peaceful against the bright green of the surrounding countryside.
The two of them were standing at the edge of the tower wall, taking in the view, when Rose turned to him. He held his breath as she leaned forward, holding his gaze until she was only inches away; her eyes fluttered shut as she closed the distance and gave him a soft, lingering kiss. He found himself wrapping her in his arms, trying to keep the kiss as light as she wanted, his eyes closed but his body acutely attuned to the feel of her against him. She slowly pulled away, and he opened his eyes to see hers fluttering back open. She looked dazed and not a little bit surprised.
He waited for her to speak, his arms resting lightly against her waist. His eyes traced her features as she composed herself; if she was going to leave, he wanted to remember her like this, the setting sun bathing her in soft, golden light.
Rose finally figured out how to say what she was thinking; her voice was rough at first. “I don’t want to lose this.” She met his eyes; he was surprised at the intensity of emotion there.
“Neither do I.”
They stood wrapped in each other’s arms for quite some time, watching the sun set.
~ - ~
Chapter Twenty-two