The Way of Things, Chapter 26
Jake, James, and Mickey had taken it upon themselves to provide entertainment with dinner, each eager to help distract Rose from the afternoon’s events. She hadn’t told Jake or James any of the specifics-rehashing them with Mickey had been exhausting enough-but she had shared out the fact that she and Carlisle had had a row. Rose figured it wouldn’t be long before all of her team knew what the row was about-assuming, of course, they hadn’t already worked it out-but she was grateful for their willingness to humour her for the evening.
They’d gone to one of the many Thai restaurants in town, a place they’d frequented often enough that they had a ‘regular’ table, tucked in a quiet corner of the bustling dining room. The Thai food in this universe was sweeter than that which Rose had grown up with, and both she and Mickey had found they loved it; their teammates had long ago learned it was the best fuel for the two of them when serious matters were afoot.
They’d just ordered sticky rice for dessert (the same in both universes, oddly enough) when the sound of Rose’s mobile cut through their conversation. She sighed-trust her Mum to call a night early this week of all weeks. She was laughing at one of James’ many off-colour jokes when she brought the phone up from her purse, was halfway to flipping it open, the words “Hello, Mum!” on her lips, when she looked at the caller ID.
Carlisle.
The smile fell from her face, and she stared at the phone.
“Rose?” Mickey, seated across from her, had seen her tense. Rose silently handed him the phone.
He looked at the name and returned his glance to Rose. “What’s he think he’s about, calling you?” He set the phone on the table, silencing the ringing.
James cleared his throat. “Perhaps he’s calling to talk?” he ventured.
Rose didn’t think he was kidding. Jake turned from listening to James to watch the reactions of Mickey and Rose.
“Not bloody likely. What’s he think, calling to talk anyway?” Mickey’s righteous anger spared Rose the necessity of doing anything more than giving a weak smile.
The four of them stared at each other in silence, the joviality gone. The din of other diners washed over them as they sat, thinking. Rose was sure she wasn’t the only one who jumped when the phone started to ring again.
Rose looked down and sighed. She had to give Peter credit-he was tenacious.
Mickey appeared not to be as forgiving; after glaring at the phone, he picked it up and angrily flipped it open. “You have some bloody nerve, mate. I told you-“ Mickey was cut off mid-rant, his face furious at whatever was being said down the line.
After a moment, Mickey held out the phone. She looked disbelievingly at him. “Are you mad?” she hissed.
“Take it.”
She felt slightly sick as she took the small electronic, and took a deep breath before speaking. “Yes, Inspector?” She focused on keeping her voice impersonal.
The momentary silence on the other end practically vibrated with tension. “Miss Tyler. I’m terribly sorry to bother you...wouldn’t have done, in fact, but Penington just rang. The warehouse is on fire-although at this point it’s probably burnt to the ground. I thought you might want to know.”
Rose paused, dinner feeling like a lead brick in her stomach. Why hadn’t he had Penington call them? It’s what he normally would have done.
Her train of thought was interrupted by Peter. “Rose...” His voice was soft, tentative, and Rose felt her throat tighten.
“Yes, thank you, Inspector. We just need directions and we’ll be out presently.” She noted James stand and move away from the table as she mouthed ‘pen’ to Mickey and Jake.
She flinched at the icy tone of Peter’s voice when he answered. “You’ve a pen?”
Jake handed a pen and clean napkin over to her as she said, “Go ahead.”
Peter relayed directions in a clear, precise manner; she didn’t think she’d ever heard his voice so devoid of warmth, and she wanted to weep as she compared it with how he had been that morning. She felt a slight stir of guilt in her gut, and viciously tamped it down.
Distracted by her thoughts, it took her a moment to realize Peter had finished. “Yes, thank you,” she managed, her voice shaky.
“I’ll see you up there.” His voice had thawed again, the tone low and sad as the connection clicked.
Rose shut her phone, staring dumbly at it before raising her eyes to the men across from her. “The warehouse has burnt down.” James, who had just returned, gave a low whistle.
“Good thing the bill’s all settled. Best get this done, eh?”
The walk back to the hotel was more of a light jog, the group eager to get to the scene and begin working. Rose, however, was dreading it, as well; she’d thought she would have more time to prepare for seeing Peter again, to work out how she was going to handle the after effects of the afternoon. She’d told Mickey she couldn’t really blame Peter for his reaction-how else was he supposed to react to such information?--but that didn’t mean she forgave him for how he’d made her feel with his rejection. The truth of the matter was, she wasn’t sure she could forgive herself for being so foolish as to get involved with the man, knowing the bombshell she’d have to drop on him eventually.
Rose knew she should be worrying about what this development in the case meant as opposed to fretting about the impacts of what the Inspector had said-and, more importantly, hadn’t said--that day. The warehouse was literally in the middle of nowhere; someone would have to deliberately set fire to it for it to burn, which meant it played a key role in whatever McGreevy was up to. And yet, all she could focus on was seeing Peter again. She wasn’t sure she was up for that.
It was short work to collect their gear and the van, and the drive wasn’t nearly as long as she remembered. They could smell the smoke even before they saw the flashing lights of fire appliances and police cars, and Rose felt a nearly overpowering need to vomit as her nerves came to a head.
James reached an arm around her, pulling her into a hug; noticing Mickey pre-occupied with directing Jake in, he leaned down to whisper in Rose’s ear. “You really care about this guy, don’t you?”
Trust James to make it succinct and simple. Here she was thinking it was all swirling and dizzying and complicated, and all it really was, was that one sentence. You really care about this guy, Rose Tyler, she thought. Bloody hell.
Rose allowed herself the comfort he offered before steeling herself. Sitting up straight, she turned to him. “I thought so.”
James leaned in quickly and whispered, “Talk to him, Rose.”
She shook her head. “’s not the place or the time to muck about with that.” James, sitting straight, gave her a searching glance before nodding thoughtfully.
“Right. So what’s the plan, boss?” The van had reached the police tape marking the edge of the scene, and Jake was talking their way in. Rose tried not to flinch as she caught the word “Carlisle” and turned back to James. “The plan? Oh, I don’t know-arson’s not my forte. Maybe just see what pops up?”
They bumped along the lane she and Carlisle had used the week before, stopping well short of the end. Jake slid the gears into neutral and pulled the hand brake as Mickey turned back and looked at her. “We’ll go meet up with the DI.”
“No.” She was surprised by the firmness in her voice; she could see that it surprised Mickey as well. “No, it’s my job to meet with him. James, you and Mickey see if you can find Penington, get around the site and run a scan. Jake and I will be, at least for a bit, with the DI.” She looked at the three men, their faces glowing eerily in the flashing lights. “No arguments.”
James reached over and opened the passenger door. “Aye aye.” He winked before stepping into the cool night, holding the door open. As she passed James by, he once more whispered, urgently, “Talk to him.”
The group of four moved to stand in the long grass, surveying the scene before them. It was cold out, their breath misting lightly in the diffuse light, and Rose briefly wished she’d thought to bring a jacket. The warehouse was lit by one or two high-watt lights from the fire brigade, the illumination highlighting the damage done by the fire. The decrepit building was now a dark, smouldering mass, the walls darkened by soot and the roof completely gone; she wondered if they’d even tried to extinguish the flames and decided probably not.
The memories of her morning investigating with the Inspector returned, and she found her eyes drifting to the area where their car had been parked. Her cheeks flushed as she remembered being kissed by Peter, and she forced her gaze back to the crime scene.
Penington was approaching them with a grim smile, and she watched as James and Mickey moved to meet him. She felt Jake shift next to her, and she turned to him. “Let’s go find the DI, shall we?”
They found him standing in the clutch of people at the end of the road, near where the lone path to the warehouse used to start, staring at the remnants of the warehouse. The DI was dressed in his professional armour-dark trousers, white shirt, dark sweater, black coat; if not for the lights, he’d be impossible to spot in the darkness. His hands were in his pockets and his gaze was sombre, his face drawn; she’d have been hard-pressed to identify him as the man she’d seen that morning, let alone snogged on that spot seven days before.
Jake, sensing she wasn’t going to make their presence known, spoke first. “DI.”
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
His conversation with Penington had been short, Peter shuttling his supper plate back into the kitchen as he listened, trotting up the stairs to his bedroom to start laying out his clothes as he informed the DC he’d be en route directly. Penington had been prepared to ring off, stating he’d notify Torchwood, when some kind of madness had taken over Peter. He’d certainly been as shocked as Penington no doubt was when he offered to ring them instead.
“You’re sure, sir?”
Peter swallowed. “I’m sure. I’ll see you up there, Penny. Thanks.”
He stood, staring at his phone for several minutes after the DC rang off. He’d only rarely had reason to call Rose’s phone--he was fairly sure it had only been three times in the weeks they’d been working together-and he was unaccountably terrified of doing so now. He had a sinking sensation he was at least somewhat in the wrong for his actions of the afternoon--that, even if he’d been gutted by Rose’s revelation, there were better ways to have handled it-and he was dreading the awkwardness of speaking with her or any of her team.
He sighed. May as well be done with it and move on. He pressed the button under ‘Tyler’ and closed his eyes, tension coiling tighter in his stomach as the phone continued to ring, unanswered.
He winced as he heard Rose’s bright voice asking him to leave a message, and he disconnected. He didn’t think it was turned off-it had rung too many times for that-so the question then became one of whether she was ignoring him. He tapped the corner of his mobile against his lips, thinking: With what he knew of Rose, what would she do?
He dialled again. The phone was answered on the fourth ring, and he hastily jerked the device away from his ear as Mickey’s voice laid into him. Rose, clearly, had filled him in, and he wondered bitterly just how many other people she had told.
Sod all. “Shut the bloody hell up, Mickey; just do me that small favour, you can do whatever it is you ruddy well planned to later. Would it make you feel better if I told you I feel like shite? Now give the damned phone to Rose and let me speak with her; this is important.”
He heard a rustle as the phone was, apparently, handed over. He could hear Rose whispering even if he couldn’t make out the words, and heard Mickey’s answering “Take it.”
The call was roughly as excruciating as he’d expected, each of their emotions coming through before being tamped down, and he was relieved when he could finally ring off and direct his attention back to the comforting uncertainty of work.
He made excellent time to the warehouse, his familiarity serving him well as he navigated the hilly, twisting roads while his mind focused on the issue at hand-- which, he had to keep reminding his confused mind, was decidedly not Rose Tyler. They’d found nothing at the warehouse, and yet it had burned. Which meant there had been something there; something that they’d missed. Even if it was covered by the filter that had been used at the cottage, he was going to hate himself for not finding whatever it was that made that place important. Professionally important; personally, he already knew that regardless of how things worked with Rose he’d have fond memories of the place.
He had had time to take a quick walk around the remnants of the building-he hadn’t done that, he remembered, on the day he and Rose had visited; he wanted to kick himself for his sloppiness-and speak with the fire officer in charge before the white Torchwood van arrived. He slunk back into the crowd, intending to continue staring at the smoking ruins but instead finding his eyes drawn to the van. James was out first, a grin on his face; Mickey and Jake exited the front doors. His heart stopped when Rose slowly stepped out of the van. He watched as she took in the scene before her, her look thoughtful; and he could tell the instant she remembered what had happened in the car, her gaze having moved to the spot where the car had parked. He winced as she shook herself, her head turning sharply to look back towards the warehouse.
He returned his attention to the brightly-lit scene, and forced himself to focus on what it meant. They were missing something, clearly. Something big and obvious, and critical enough that whoever was responsible for what was going on was panicking. He could take comfort in the fact that they didn’t appear to have a leak from the police; otherwise, they’d have known the warehouse wasn’t worth burning, that it had actually fallen off their radar due to the lack of leads from it. Torching it only served to highlight its importance.
“DI.”
Jake’s voice stalled his thoughts and he turned his head. He half-expected to be greeted by a punch from Mickey-a punch which he rather suspected he deserved, even if he was the one feeling betrayed by what Rose had said-and was caught off guard when he saw that it was Rose who was standing there with Jake instead.
“Jake. Miss Tyler.” He allowed himself a brief glance at her face before turning once more to look at the warehouse. It was taking all of his concentration to keep his face blank.
“Inspector.” He clenched a hand in his pocket at the sound of Rose’s slightly tentative voice. “What can you tell us?”
Straight to business, then. That was probably for the best, all told, and it gave him something simple upon which to focus. “I’ve no doubt you’ll be surprised to learn the fire was intentionally set. They weren’t even subtle about it; it reeks of petrol over there. Fire services have not been able to send anyone in, as there’s no certainty about the stability of the floor; the small fact that it’s still a wee bit warm over there might also be something of a deterrent to prolonged exploration.” The sarcasm helped him to keep a check on his emotions, and he was able to turn back to Jake and Rose with some degree of equanimity. “The call came from the farmer down the road; said he could smell smoke and see a glow from his house.” He removed his hand from a pocket and gestured to their right. “He lives near a mile away, so it must have been quite bright; the gentleman in charge of the first arriving appliance said it was well nigh burnt down by the time they arrived.”
“No water, then?”
His eyes focused on Rose as he answered her question. “No water. They’ve touched nothing, which is a small miracle. We just have to let things cool before we can carry on.”
He noticed Rose’s brows briefly draw together at his statement before her eyes returned to the eerie scene in front of them, and he stifled a sigh. He didn’t always slip subtext into his comments, surely she knew that?
“So we’ll be out here for a bit, then?” Jake’s voice was businesslike; Peter met his gaze and held the scrutinising stare.
“Quite a bit, I should think. Even as chilly as it is, the fire services don’t reckon on the stone cooling for several hours.” He sighed. “I’m sorry I called you up here so soon; there’s not much to do.” The thought of spending several awkward hours together with Rose and the rest of her team, without any work at all to distract him, was horrifying.
He didn’t miss Jake’s expression of surprise. “Thanks for the sentiment, but I think we’d rather be here with nothing to do, than not here with plenty to do.” Jake gave him a small smile.
Rose had crossed her arms as she stared at the scene, and Peter wondered if it was due to the cold or due to feeling defensive. It was cold. Why hadn’t she brought a coat? For a brief, insane moment, he thought of giving her his. He almost made a movement to shrug out of it before catching himself and clearing his throat instead. “Why don’t we take a stroll, then? Show you ‘round the place.” He caught Rose’s eye as he walked by. “You’ll love what they’ve done with it since we were last here.”
He didn’t miss her shocked expression, and he winced. He really hadn’t meant to do that; it was just so easy to lapse into the comfortable banter that the two of them had developed over the past week or two. Just like it would have been so easy-so natural and unthinking-to wrap her in his coat, to really enjoy the fact of Rose Tyler tucked into his coat, the fact that it would smell like her when she eventually gave it back to him…He jammed his hands into his coat pockets, striding rapidly towards the fire scene. He could do it, but she wouldn’t see him. She’d smile, and accept his offer...but she’d be thinking of her Doctor the entire time. His stomach churned at the thought.
He stopped several yards away from the entrance to the building-the former entrance, at any rate. The air was noticeably warmer, and a shimmer of heat radiating off the stones could be seen in some of the rays of light. “We can’t get any closer-they’re still not sure the walls won’t come tumbling down. Let’s go this way.” He gestured with his be-pocketed hand, and slowly led Jake and Rose anti-clockwise around the building. They’d put lights on two sides of the building, but the side he led them to was cast into heavy shadow; he pulled a torch out of his pocket and, clicking it on, led them to what he wanted to point out.
“Here’s your petrol-not that you can’t smell it. Waste of money, that-I’d imagine they could have burnt it down easily enough with foolscap and a packet of matches. ” He ran the light along the line where the building met the ground as they continued walking. “Ian and the boys should be here with their bag of tricks soon enough, and I have great hopes that they’ll find something. And that we’re not trampling the evidence.” They reached the end of the dark side of the building and emerged into now-blinding light.
There was nothing much to be seen from the outside, and certainly not from the distance they were forced to keep, and the three of them ended by standing back at the start of the footpath between road and building. The crowd had dispersed, the police officers fanning out to patrol the perimeter-or go home to bed-while the fire services, barring one appliance standing watch, had rolled back to their stations.
“How can we be of assistance, Inspector?” Rose asked.
“I don’t know that you can, not really. Unless you have something that would get us into the charred remains in front of us with any more speed?”
She gave him a long-suffering glare.
“You’re welcome to stay on-scene, of course; things could either get terribly exciting with forensics, or duller than you’ve ever experienced. It might be handy to have you on hand in case anything turns up, though.” He noted Mickey, James, and Penington standing near the Torchwood van, laughing, and he guided the group towards them.
He didn’t miss the lethal glare that Mickey gave him as they joined the three men; neither, apparently, did Rose, and he supposed it would have been difficult for even a blind man to miss that glare. She sighed, and he reflexively moved closer to her before catching himself. Jake, he noted, didn’t miss his reaction.
“Sir, nothing new to report I’m afraid. These gents ran every scan they could think of and perhaps a few more on top.” Penny was grinning; he still loved being behind the tape of a crime scene, regardless of how boring it was.
“Nothing?” Rose’s voice still had a note of hope.
“Nothing.” Mickey’s voice was resolute.
An awkward silence loomed, and Peter stifled a sigh. It was just like being back in their first week together. “Right. Do all six of us need to be out here?” He looked around at the group.
“Until Ian is done? Yes.” Rose met his eyes, and he quickly looked elsewhere.
“Assuming Ian shows any time soon,” James muttered good-naturedly.
Silence returned, and the group stared at each other awkwardly. Rose finally spoke. “It’s bloody cold. I’m going to wait in the van.” She turned and pulled the door open, clambering in and settling by the window. “You blokes are welcome to do what you like.” She grinned at Mickey, and he felt a stab of jealousy-until the events of that afternoon, she would have smiled at him like that. He still ached from her revelations, but how different would things have been if he’d tried to talk to her on that bench, instead of shutting her out?
He stuffed his hands in his pockets and, with a terse “I’ll be over there” walked towards his car. Penington chose to hang back with Torchwood, and he sighed. It was just one of those days. And nights. Karmic payback of some sort, no doubt, but he wasn’t sure what he’d done to merit this.
It was another hour-a cold, lonely hour of leaning against his car-before forensics arrived. They brought more lights, and were soon processing as much of the scene as they could given the temperature of the ruins. The team had briefly lurked as the forensics boys worked, but were soon shooed away with the admonition that if their help was needed it would be requested.
Another two hours passed. Penington had finally volunteered to go for tea and snacks, and although the tea was tepid by the time he returned, it was a nice break to the monotony. Peter passed on the food, his stomach in knots, and noticed another thoughtful gaze from Jake. He glared at the man before stalking off with his tea; it was all well and good for him to be obvious about watching people, but he abhorred it when people did it to him.
More time passed. Fire services had let him know that the building was nearly cool enough to enter, and they’d just have to do a quick safety check to make sure it was structurally sound. Once the building was clear he had watched the white-clad forensics team slowly, methodically make their way into it. After another half hour of impatient waiting he had gone to visit with Ian briefly, had been tersely shooed away, was beginning to wonder why it was he did this job when he noticed Penington slowly walking towards him. He sighed impatiently, but stayed still as his DC met him halfway.
“Yes, Penny?”
The young man looked distinctly uncomfortable, he noticed.
“Out with it. I’m hardly going to kill you with so many witnesses about.”
“Pardon me for asking, sir, but is everything alright with you and Miss Tyler?”
Peter had expected any number of random questions from his DC, but that certainly wasn’t one of them. He gawped.
“It’s just that you seem a bit off your game, sir, and so does she, and I thought...”
“You don’t think that it might be down to being called out to a crime scene on a Saturday night?”
“Never seemed to bother you before, sir.”
He winced. Penington did have a point.
Rubbing his face, he gave some serious thought to his response. He didn’t make a habit of confiding in his DC’s; he hated exposing that much of himself to a person he had to work so closely with. And yet, the thought of unburdening himself to the young man standing in front of him was looking very, very tempting right about now.
“I thank you for your concern, Penny-“
“Carlisle!” Ian’s shout drifted over to him. He looked over the DC’s shoulder to see Ian’s white-clad figure running towards him. He’d found something.
He only half-noticed the Torchwood team moving towards them from the van, his every sense now focused on the forensic lead as he grew closer; Ian definitely had News.
The man paused, panting , in front of he and Penington; by the time he caught his breath enough to speak, the Torchwood four were standing to his side. He could sense Rose looking briefly at him, and he quickly flicked his eyes to her; she hastily looked away, blushing, and he returned his attention to Ian, who was now standing straight.
“You’re not going to believe this. There’s a body in there.”
It never rained but it poured, he thought mirthlessly as the group broke into a run towards the warehouse.
They’d gone to one of the many Thai restaurants in town, a place they’d frequented often enough that they had a ‘regular’ table, tucked in a quiet corner of the bustling dining room. The Thai food in this universe was sweeter than that which Rose had grown up with, and both she and Mickey had found they loved it; their teammates had long ago learned it was the best fuel for the two of them when serious matters were afoot.
They’d just ordered sticky rice for dessert (the same in both universes, oddly enough) when the sound of Rose’s mobile cut through their conversation. She sighed-trust her Mum to call a night early this week of all weeks. She was laughing at one of James’ many off-colour jokes when she brought the phone up from her purse, was halfway to flipping it open, the words “Hello, Mum!” on her lips, when she looked at the caller ID.
Carlisle.
The smile fell from her face, and she stared at the phone.
“Rose?” Mickey, seated across from her, had seen her tense. Rose silently handed him the phone.
He looked at the name and returned his glance to Rose. “What’s he think he’s about, calling you?” He set the phone on the table, silencing the ringing.
James cleared his throat. “Perhaps he’s calling to talk?” he ventured.
Rose didn’t think he was kidding. Jake turned from listening to James to watch the reactions of Mickey and Rose.
“Not bloody likely. What’s he think, calling to talk anyway?” Mickey’s righteous anger spared Rose the necessity of doing anything more than giving a weak smile.
The four of them stared at each other in silence, the joviality gone. The din of other diners washed over them as they sat, thinking. Rose was sure she wasn’t the only one who jumped when the phone started to ring again.
Rose looked down and sighed. She had to give Peter credit-he was tenacious.
Mickey appeared not to be as forgiving; after glaring at the phone, he picked it up and angrily flipped it open. “You have some bloody nerve, mate. I told you-“ Mickey was cut off mid-rant, his face furious at whatever was being said down the line.
After a moment, Mickey held out the phone. She looked disbelievingly at him. “Are you mad?” she hissed.
“Take it.”
She felt slightly sick as she took the small electronic, and took a deep breath before speaking. “Yes, Inspector?” She focused on keeping her voice impersonal.
The momentary silence on the other end practically vibrated with tension. “Miss Tyler. I’m terribly sorry to bother you...wouldn’t have done, in fact, but Penington just rang. The warehouse is on fire-although at this point it’s probably burnt to the ground. I thought you might want to know.”
Rose paused, dinner feeling like a lead brick in her stomach. Why hadn’t he had Penington call them? It’s what he normally would have done.
Her train of thought was interrupted by Peter. “Rose...” His voice was soft, tentative, and Rose felt her throat tighten.
“Yes, thank you, Inspector. We just need directions and we’ll be out presently.” She noted James stand and move away from the table as she mouthed ‘pen’ to Mickey and Jake.
She flinched at the icy tone of Peter’s voice when he answered. “You’ve a pen?”
Jake handed a pen and clean napkin over to her as she said, “Go ahead.”
Peter relayed directions in a clear, precise manner; she didn’t think she’d ever heard his voice so devoid of warmth, and she wanted to weep as she compared it with how he had been that morning. She felt a slight stir of guilt in her gut, and viciously tamped it down.
Distracted by her thoughts, it took her a moment to realize Peter had finished. “Yes, thank you,” she managed, her voice shaky.
“I’ll see you up there.” His voice had thawed again, the tone low and sad as the connection clicked.
Rose shut her phone, staring dumbly at it before raising her eyes to the men across from her. “The warehouse has burnt down.” James, who had just returned, gave a low whistle.
“Good thing the bill’s all settled. Best get this done, eh?”
The walk back to the hotel was more of a light jog, the group eager to get to the scene and begin working. Rose, however, was dreading it, as well; she’d thought she would have more time to prepare for seeing Peter again, to work out how she was going to handle the after effects of the afternoon. She’d told Mickey she couldn’t really blame Peter for his reaction-how else was he supposed to react to such information?--but that didn’t mean she forgave him for how he’d made her feel with his rejection. The truth of the matter was, she wasn’t sure she could forgive herself for being so foolish as to get involved with the man, knowing the bombshell she’d have to drop on him eventually.
Rose knew she should be worrying about what this development in the case meant as opposed to fretting about the impacts of what the Inspector had said-and, more importantly, hadn’t said--that day. The warehouse was literally in the middle of nowhere; someone would have to deliberately set fire to it for it to burn, which meant it played a key role in whatever McGreevy was up to. And yet, all she could focus on was seeing Peter again. She wasn’t sure she was up for that.
It was short work to collect their gear and the van, and the drive wasn’t nearly as long as she remembered. They could smell the smoke even before they saw the flashing lights of fire appliances and police cars, and Rose felt a nearly overpowering need to vomit as her nerves came to a head.
James reached an arm around her, pulling her into a hug; noticing Mickey pre-occupied with directing Jake in, he leaned down to whisper in Rose’s ear. “You really care about this guy, don’t you?”
Trust James to make it succinct and simple. Here she was thinking it was all swirling and dizzying and complicated, and all it really was, was that one sentence. You really care about this guy, Rose Tyler, she thought. Bloody hell.
Rose allowed herself the comfort he offered before steeling herself. Sitting up straight, she turned to him. “I thought so.”
James leaned in quickly and whispered, “Talk to him, Rose.”
She shook her head. “’s not the place or the time to muck about with that.” James, sitting straight, gave her a searching glance before nodding thoughtfully.
“Right. So what’s the plan, boss?” The van had reached the police tape marking the edge of the scene, and Jake was talking their way in. Rose tried not to flinch as she caught the word “Carlisle” and turned back to James. “The plan? Oh, I don’t know-arson’s not my forte. Maybe just see what pops up?”
They bumped along the lane she and Carlisle had used the week before, stopping well short of the end. Jake slid the gears into neutral and pulled the hand brake as Mickey turned back and looked at her. “We’ll go meet up with the DI.”
“No.” She was surprised by the firmness in her voice; she could see that it surprised Mickey as well. “No, it’s my job to meet with him. James, you and Mickey see if you can find Penington, get around the site and run a scan. Jake and I will be, at least for a bit, with the DI.” She looked at the three men, their faces glowing eerily in the flashing lights. “No arguments.”
James reached over and opened the passenger door. “Aye aye.” He winked before stepping into the cool night, holding the door open. As she passed James by, he once more whispered, urgently, “Talk to him.”
The group of four moved to stand in the long grass, surveying the scene before them. It was cold out, their breath misting lightly in the diffuse light, and Rose briefly wished she’d thought to bring a jacket. The warehouse was lit by one or two high-watt lights from the fire brigade, the illumination highlighting the damage done by the fire. The decrepit building was now a dark, smouldering mass, the walls darkened by soot and the roof completely gone; she wondered if they’d even tried to extinguish the flames and decided probably not.
The memories of her morning investigating with the Inspector returned, and she found her eyes drifting to the area where their car had been parked. Her cheeks flushed as she remembered being kissed by Peter, and she forced her gaze back to the crime scene.
Penington was approaching them with a grim smile, and she watched as James and Mickey moved to meet him. She felt Jake shift next to her, and she turned to him. “Let’s go find the DI, shall we?”
They found him standing in the clutch of people at the end of the road, near where the lone path to the warehouse used to start, staring at the remnants of the warehouse. The DI was dressed in his professional armour-dark trousers, white shirt, dark sweater, black coat; if not for the lights, he’d be impossible to spot in the darkness. His hands were in his pockets and his gaze was sombre, his face drawn; she’d have been hard-pressed to identify him as the man she’d seen that morning, let alone snogged on that spot seven days before.
Jake, sensing she wasn’t going to make their presence known, spoke first. “DI.”
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
His conversation with Penington had been short, Peter shuttling his supper plate back into the kitchen as he listened, trotting up the stairs to his bedroom to start laying out his clothes as he informed the DC he’d be en route directly. Penington had been prepared to ring off, stating he’d notify Torchwood, when some kind of madness had taken over Peter. He’d certainly been as shocked as Penington no doubt was when he offered to ring them instead.
“You’re sure, sir?”
Peter swallowed. “I’m sure. I’ll see you up there, Penny. Thanks.”
He stood, staring at his phone for several minutes after the DC rang off. He’d only rarely had reason to call Rose’s phone--he was fairly sure it had only been three times in the weeks they’d been working together-and he was unaccountably terrified of doing so now. He had a sinking sensation he was at least somewhat in the wrong for his actions of the afternoon--that, even if he’d been gutted by Rose’s revelation, there were better ways to have handled it-and he was dreading the awkwardness of speaking with her or any of her team.
He sighed. May as well be done with it and move on. He pressed the button under ‘Tyler’ and closed his eyes, tension coiling tighter in his stomach as the phone continued to ring, unanswered.
He winced as he heard Rose’s bright voice asking him to leave a message, and he disconnected. He didn’t think it was turned off-it had rung too many times for that-so the question then became one of whether she was ignoring him. He tapped the corner of his mobile against his lips, thinking: With what he knew of Rose, what would she do?
He dialled again. The phone was answered on the fourth ring, and he hastily jerked the device away from his ear as Mickey’s voice laid into him. Rose, clearly, had filled him in, and he wondered bitterly just how many other people she had told.
Sod all. “Shut the bloody hell up, Mickey; just do me that small favour, you can do whatever it is you ruddy well planned to later. Would it make you feel better if I told you I feel like shite? Now give the damned phone to Rose and let me speak with her; this is important.”
He heard a rustle as the phone was, apparently, handed over. He could hear Rose whispering even if he couldn’t make out the words, and heard Mickey’s answering “Take it.”
The call was roughly as excruciating as he’d expected, each of their emotions coming through before being tamped down, and he was relieved when he could finally ring off and direct his attention back to the comforting uncertainty of work.
He made excellent time to the warehouse, his familiarity serving him well as he navigated the hilly, twisting roads while his mind focused on the issue at hand-- which, he had to keep reminding his confused mind, was decidedly not Rose Tyler. They’d found nothing at the warehouse, and yet it had burned. Which meant there had been something there; something that they’d missed. Even if it was covered by the filter that had been used at the cottage, he was going to hate himself for not finding whatever it was that made that place important. Professionally important; personally, he already knew that regardless of how things worked with Rose he’d have fond memories of the place.
He had had time to take a quick walk around the remnants of the building-he hadn’t done that, he remembered, on the day he and Rose had visited; he wanted to kick himself for his sloppiness-and speak with the fire officer in charge before the white Torchwood van arrived. He slunk back into the crowd, intending to continue staring at the smoking ruins but instead finding his eyes drawn to the van. James was out first, a grin on his face; Mickey and Jake exited the front doors. His heart stopped when Rose slowly stepped out of the van. He watched as she took in the scene before her, her look thoughtful; and he could tell the instant she remembered what had happened in the car, her gaze having moved to the spot where the car had parked. He winced as she shook herself, her head turning sharply to look back towards the warehouse.
He returned his attention to the brightly-lit scene, and forced himself to focus on what it meant. They were missing something, clearly. Something big and obvious, and critical enough that whoever was responsible for what was going on was panicking. He could take comfort in the fact that they didn’t appear to have a leak from the police; otherwise, they’d have known the warehouse wasn’t worth burning, that it had actually fallen off their radar due to the lack of leads from it. Torching it only served to highlight its importance.
“DI.”
Jake’s voice stalled his thoughts and he turned his head. He half-expected to be greeted by a punch from Mickey-a punch which he rather suspected he deserved, even if he was the one feeling betrayed by what Rose had said-and was caught off guard when he saw that it was Rose who was standing there with Jake instead.
“Jake. Miss Tyler.” He allowed himself a brief glance at her face before turning once more to look at the warehouse. It was taking all of his concentration to keep his face blank.
“Inspector.” He clenched a hand in his pocket at the sound of Rose’s slightly tentative voice. “What can you tell us?”
Straight to business, then. That was probably for the best, all told, and it gave him something simple upon which to focus. “I’ve no doubt you’ll be surprised to learn the fire was intentionally set. They weren’t even subtle about it; it reeks of petrol over there. Fire services have not been able to send anyone in, as there’s no certainty about the stability of the floor; the small fact that it’s still a wee bit warm over there might also be something of a deterrent to prolonged exploration.” The sarcasm helped him to keep a check on his emotions, and he was able to turn back to Jake and Rose with some degree of equanimity. “The call came from the farmer down the road; said he could smell smoke and see a glow from his house.” He removed his hand from a pocket and gestured to their right. “He lives near a mile away, so it must have been quite bright; the gentleman in charge of the first arriving appliance said it was well nigh burnt down by the time they arrived.”
“No water, then?”
His eyes focused on Rose as he answered her question. “No water. They’ve touched nothing, which is a small miracle. We just have to let things cool before we can carry on.”
He noticed Rose’s brows briefly draw together at his statement before her eyes returned to the eerie scene in front of them, and he stifled a sigh. He didn’t always slip subtext into his comments, surely she knew that?
“So we’ll be out here for a bit, then?” Jake’s voice was businesslike; Peter met his gaze and held the scrutinising stare.
“Quite a bit, I should think. Even as chilly as it is, the fire services don’t reckon on the stone cooling for several hours.” He sighed. “I’m sorry I called you up here so soon; there’s not much to do.” The thought of spending several awkward hours together with Rose and the rest of her team, without any work at all to distract him, was horrifying.
He didn’t miss Jake’s expression of surprise. “Thanks for the sentiment, but I think we’d rather be here with nothing to do, than not here with plenty to do.” Jake gave him a small smile.
Rose had crossed her arms as she stared at the scene, and Peter wondered if it was due to the cold or due to feeling defensive. It was cold. Why hadn’t she brought a coat? For a brief, insane moment, he thought of giving her his. He almost made a movement to shrug out of it before catching himself and clearing his throat instead. “Why don’t we take a stroll, then? Show you ‘round the place.” He caught Rose’s eye as he walked by. “You’ll love what they’ve done with it since we were last here.”
He didn’t miss her shocked expression, and he winced. He really hadn’t meant to do that; it was just so easy to lapse into the comfortable banter that the two of them had developed over the past week or two. Just like it would have been so easy-so natural and unthinking-to wrap her in his coat, to really enjoy the fact of Rose Tyler tucked into his coat, the fact that it would smell like her when she eventually gave it back to him…He jammed his hands into his coat pockets, striding rapidly towards the fire scene. He could do it, but she wouldn’t see him. She’d smile, and accept his offer...but she’d be thinking of her Doctor the entire time. His stomach churned at the thought.
He stopped several yards away from the entrance to the building-the former entrance, at any rate. The air was noticeably warmer, and a shimmer of heat radiating off the stones could be seen in some of the rays of light. “We can’t get any closer-they’re still not sure the walls won’t come tumbling down. Let’s go this way.” He gestured with his be-pocketed hand, and slowly led Jake and Rose anti-clockwise around the building. They’d put lights on two sides of the building, but the side he led them to was cast into heavy shadow; he pulled a torch out of his pocket and, clicking it on, led them to what he wanted to point out.
“Here’s your petrol-not that you can’t smell it. Waste of money, that-I’d imagine they could have burnt it down easily enough with foolscap and a packet of matches. ” He ran the light along the line where the building met the ground as they continued walking. “Ian and the boys should be here with their bag of tricks soon enough, and I have great hopes that they’ll find something. And that we’re not trampling the evidence.” They reached the end of the dark side of the building and emerged into now-blinding light.
There was nothing much to be seen from the outside, and certainly not from the distance they were forced to keep, and the three of them ended by standing back at the start of the footpath between road and building. The crowd had dispersed, the police officers fanning out to patrol the perimeter-or go home to bed-while the fire services, barring one appliance standing watch, had rolled back to their stations.
“How can we be of assistance, Inspector?” Rose asked.
“I don’t know that you can, not really. Unless you have something that would get us into the charred remains in front of us with any more speed?”
She gave him a long-suffering glare.
“You’re welcome to stay on-scene, of course; things could either get terribly exciting with forensics, or duller than you’ve ever experienced. It might be handy to have you on hand in case anything turns up, though.” He noted Mickey, James, and Penington standing near the Torchwood van, laughing, and he guided the group towards them.
He didn’t miss the lethal glare that Mickey gave him as they joined the three men; neither, apparently, did Rose, and he supposed it would have been difficult for even a blind man to miss that glare. She sighed, and he reflexively moved closer to her before catching himself. Jake, he noted, didn’t miss his reaction.
“Sir, nothing new to report I’m afraid. These gents ran every scan they could think of and perhaps a few more on top.” Penny was grinning; he still loved being behind the tape of a crime scene, regardless of how boring it was.
“Nothing?” Rose’s voice still had a note of hope.
“Nothing.” Mickey’s voice was resolute.
An awkward silence loomed, and Peter stifled a sigh. It was just like being back in their first week together. “Right. Do all six of us need to be out here?” He looked around at the group.
“Until Ian is done? Yes.” Rose met his eyes, and he quickly looked elsewhere.
“Assuming Ian shows any time soon,” James muttered good-naturedly.
Silence returned, and the group stared at each other awkwardly. Rose finally spoke. “It’s bloody cold. I’m going to wait in the van.” She turned and pulled the door open, clambering in and settling by the window. “You blokes are welcome to do what you like.” She grinned at Mickey, and he felt a stab of jealousy-until the events of that afternoon, she would have smiled at him like that. He still ached from her revelations, but how different would things have been if he’d tried to talk to her on that bench, instead of shutting her out?
He stuffed his hands in his pockets and, with a terse “I’ll be over there” walked towards his car. Penington chose to hang back with Torchwood, and he sighed. It was just one of those days. And nights. Karmic payback of some sort, no doubt, but he wasn’t sure what he’d done to merit this.
It was another hour-a cold, lonely hour of leaning against his car-before forensics arrived. They brought more lights, and were soon processing as much of the scene as they could given the temperature of the ruins. The team had briefly lurked as the forensics boys worked, but were soon shooed away with the admonition that if their help was needed it would be requested.
Another two hours passed. Penington had finally volunteered to go for tea and snacks, and although the tea was tepid by the time he returned, it was a nice break to the monotony. Peter passed on the food, his stomach in knots, and noticed another thoughtful gaze from Jake. He glared at the man before stalking off with his tea; it was all well and good for him to be obvious about watching people, but he abhorred it when people did it to him.
More time passed. Fire services had let him know that the building was nearly cool enough to enter, and they’d just have to do a quick safety check to make sure it was structurally sound. Once the building was clear he had watched the white-clad forensics team slowly, methodically make their way into it. After another half hour of impatient waiting he had gone to visit with Ian briefly, had been tersely shooed away, was beginning to wonder why it was he did this job when he noticed Penington slowly walking towards him. He sighed impatiently, but stayed still as his DC met him halfway.
“Yes, Penny?”
The young man looked distinctly uncomfortable, he noticed.
“Out with it. I’m hardly going to kill you with so many witnesses about.”
“Pardon me for asking, sir, but is everything alright with you and Miss Tyler?”
Peter had expected any number of random questions from his DC, but that certainly wasn’t one of them. He gawped.
“It’s just that you seem a bit off your game, sir, and so does she, and I thought...”
“You don’t think that it might be down to being called out to a crime scene on a Saturday night?”
“Never seemed to bother you before, sir.”
He winced. Penington did have a point.
Rubbing his face, he gave some serious thought to his response. He didn’t make a habit of confiding in his DC’s; he hated exposing that much of himself to a person he had to work so closely with. And yet, the thought of unburdening himself to the young man standing in front of him was looking very, very tempting right about now.
“I thank you for your concern, Penny-“
“Carlisle!” Ian’s shout drifted over to him. He looked over the DC’s shoulder to see Ian’s white-clad figure running towards him. He’d found something.
He only half-noticed the Torchwood team moving towards them from the van, his every sense now focused on the forensic lead as he grew closer; Ian definitely had News.
The man paused, panting , in front of he and Penington; by the time he caught his breath enough to speak, the Torchwood four were standing to his side. He could sense Rose looking briefly at him, and he quickly flicked his eyes to her; she hastily looked away, blushing, and he returned his attention to Ian, who was now standing straight.
“You’re not going to believe this. There’s a body in there.”
It never rained but it poured, he thought mirthlessly as the group broke into a run towards the warehouse.