Auld Reekie (1/1)
Title: Auld Reekie
Rating: K
Author: jlrpuck
Characters: Ninth Doctor; Rose Tyler
Disclaimer: Characters from Doctor Who are the property of BBC, and are used with the greatest of love and respect. No personal profit is intended from the writing or sharing of this story.
Summary: The Doctor and Rose during one of their more prosaic days travelling together.
Notes: Written for the first round of the storm_and_wolf ficathon, for which I chose prompt #37-
.
Many, many thanks to that site’s fabulous mod, mkejenkins, for being understanding when I said this would be late. It won’t happen again, ma’am!
Thank you to chicklet73 for her beta (silly EGT, off having to do something ridiculous like *work*). Any and all errors in this tale are mine, and mine alone.
Auld Reekie
The Doctor moved around the console, his brow furrowed as he experimentally tweaked here, tinkered there.
“Where to next?” he asked from the far side of the console, tilting his head as he reached for something on the column in the centre.
Rose glanced up from the magazine she’d been reading, a copy of National Geographic she’d found in one of the spare rooms on the TARDIS. The cover date was 2015, the cover story a photograph-filled paean to Prague. “How about Prague?”
The Doctor wrinkled his nose in distaste, moving around the column to join her. “Prague? Who wants to go to Prague? Rainy, grey, an absolute labyrinth. Sure, it’s got a castle and a bridge, but show me a medieval walled city on your planet that doesn’t.” He reached forward, plucking the magazine from her hands, ignoring her noise of protest. “’sides, don’t you know they tart up these pictures? Hide away the soot and the smelly backpackers, never mind forgetting to tell you just how expensive everything got once the West re-discovered it. Went there, right after the Iron Curtain fell-had a fantastic bowl of goulash for about a pound, one of the more amazing meals I’ve had on your planet. Can’t find that nowadays.”
“Why don’t we go back to when the Wall fell, then?”
“Timelines, Rose.” He lightly rapped her nose with the magazine before handing it back to her.
“How about…” She paused, trying to think of another place on Earth that might do. “Where’s that big old Arabian Palace in Spain?”
“The Alhambra?” The Doctor rolled the r, an interesting note in his northern accent.
“Sure?”
“Too hot.”
“You could always take the jacket off, you know.”
“Why’d I want to go and do something silly like that?” He sounded genuinely confused. “Need it, me, and I’ll not be taking it off simply so you can go run around some dusty old Spanish palace.”
“Just…well, looking at the pictures…thought it might be nice to visit a castle. A proper castle.”
“The Alhambra’s not a castle. It’s a palace.”
She sighed. “Right.”
“Besides, surely you’ve been to boring old Earth castles before-your country alone is littered with them. Windsor Castle and Edinburgh Castle and Dunnottar Castle and Carlisle Castle-all of them are just up the road from you, nice and old and haunted quite a bit, if that’s your thing. You could go see them anytime-why use the TARDIS to do it?”
Rose didn’t answer, glancing aside to the magazine. The picture of Prague’s skyline drew her in: the beautiful old stone, the peaks of the church spires, the foreboding outline of the castle. She’d been to Windsor, of course-her school couldn’t offer much in the way of travel, but it was an easy day trip out from London and so in her sixth year they’d all been herded onto a train and taken out to tour where the Queen lived (sometimes). It had seemed so clean, though-the ancient building scrubbed neat, the lawn and shrubbery trimmed with what had to be a level and a ruler. It was nothing like some of the places she’d seen in her time with the Doctor-huge, soaring buildings filled with glittering grandeur or soaring arches, magic and luck seeming to hold the large stones together in gravity-defying ways. Those palaces felt like castles, their sheer presence inspiring awe in the on-looker. Windsor had felt like a bit of a theme park, so neatly ordered and sanitised was it.
She’d never been to any of the other places the Doctor had listed-couldn’t have afforded it, even if she’d had a chance to go.
“Never been,” she finally answered, her voice quiet as she looked back to the Doctor. “Thought might be nice to explore my own planet, too; see how our castles stack up against the ones we’ve seen. Or at least to see how their dungeons compare,” she added with a small grin.
“Oi,” the Doctor rejoined, his voice affectionate. She felt a flash of gratitude that he didn’t look at her with pity; didn’t note that it had to have been because she’d not had much money growing up. Instead, he slowly grinned. “You want to see a real castle, then?”
“Yeah.” She felt her mouth curve in an answering smile, her brief bit of melancholy passing as it so often did when the Doctor was around.
“Then let's go see a proper castle.”
The Doctor hurried around the console, flipping levers, spinning spheres, unearthing the mallet to give a firm whack to a particularly sticky button; and then the time rotor wheezed into action, the TARDIS piloting them to wherever it was the Doctor had chosen to take them.
They landed with only a slight bobble a short time later-long enough only for her to grab a hoodie, to pull her hair back into an elastic, and to briefly use the facilities. She hurried out into the console room to find the Doctor waiting for her, his arms crossed as he rested against one of the struts. He ran his eyes over her appraisingly, then gave a short nod upon meeting her eye. “That’ll do. Now go on with you.” He jerked his head towards the door, uncrossing his arms to gesture in that direction. “Lead on.”
She grinned, running down the ramp to the doors, opening them eagerly. They were in an alley, buildings of dark grey stone on either side, ancient cobbles glistening on the ground. She stepped out, looking up and around her, grateful to note that although it had recently rained it currently wasn’t; and that although there was a nip to the air it wasn’t completely frigid.
The Doctor followed after her, turning to pull the door to before reaching out for her hand with a smile. “Let’s find you one castle.”
“So, where are we?” she asked as they set off down the alley, her shoes almost-but-not quite losing traction on the oily slickness of the centuries-old cobbles. “Prague?”
The Doctor made a noise of disapproval. “Prague. Why go there when you could come here? No worries about the language, and might be nice to see some of your own country before you go off gallivanting around other ones.”
“And here is…?”
They reached the end of the alley before she received her response, the answer coming not from the Doctor but from a busker just down the block. The wheezing of bagpipes began to fill the air, the pitch shifting from flat to sharp to on-key before the piper began to perform “Scotland the Brave.”
“Scotland? Anywhere on Earth, and you bring me to Scotland?”
The Doctor looked a bit put out at her reaction. “’Show me a castle,’ you say. ‘A proper castle.’ Edinburgh’s Castle is proper old, plenty of blood and history and even dungeons, and it’s in your own country! Why not here?”
“But…but, it’s Scotland! I could come to Scotland any time I want!”
“Driver’s choice,” the Doctor replied primly. “’sides, we’re out of whisky, and this is the only place I can get what I like. Don’t let me forget to stop by and pick up a bottle before we leave.”
~ - ~
They spent hours in the castle, the Doctor taking her around what seemed to be every square inch of it, telling her tales of murder and intrigue, relishing his role as tour guide. No surprise there, really-he’d always enjoyed telling her about the places they were visiting (or in which they were imprisoned, as the case may be), his blue eyes sparkling and his lips curving in an almost-permanent smile as he talked. He grew more animated as well, his hands dancing through the air before her as he described events; he practically skipped up the cobbles winding their way towards St. Margaret's chapel, describing the place in such detail that she had to wonder if he’d been there when the castle was still in proper use.
“Been here before, then?” she finally asked as they began the slow walk back to the castle entrance.
“Oh, loads of times. Have to make sure things happen right, don’t I?” He gave her a smug smile.
She hmmmed in response, causing his smile to fade.
“What? I didn’t plan for there to be an invading army of Brrrishlies hiding in amongst the retinue of King James. Had to take care of that, or else you’d be orange-skinned and mauve-haired, not all-” He waved in her direction. “And don’t even get me started on the shenanigans that went on here in your nineteenth century. People think body snatchers were all about selling corpses to the medical schools, but in truth they were part of something much larger, run right out of here.” He nodded his head decisively. “Sorted that, and here we are.” He beamed.
“You think you’re so smart,” she teased, leaning in to bump his arm with her shoulder.
“It’s cause I am,” he replied, leaning back in to her.
He took her hand as they walked through the outer gate, emerging onto the Promenade and into a blaze of glorious sunshine. It hadn’t rained while they’d toured, but it had been overcast and windy; the sudden sunshine was almost blinding, and Rose stumbled a bit on the pavement.
“Be a bit silly to get banged up playing tourist, don’t you think?” the Doctor asked, catching her elbow before she could fall.
“Jeopardy friendly,” she reminded him, slanting a smile in his direction.
“Bet a wise man told you that,” he grinned, his hand sliding from her elbow back down to clasp hers.
“Something like that.”
She loved bantering with the Doctor, especially when things were so easy between them. It was so easy to forget that he was over nine hundred years old; that he was one of the most powerful beings in the Universe, awed and feared by no small number of civilizations. When they were like this-hand-in-hand, laughing together, seeing the sights of whatever planet they happened to be visiting-it was so easy to give over to the attraction she felt for him. To imagine that, possibly, he might view her as more than some creature from a tiny planet in a medium-sized galaxy.
“You alright?” he asked after a few moments, pausing in the middle of the pavement of the Royal Mile. His blue eyes-so piercing, especially when he suspected something might be wrong with her-gave her a hard look, as though he were trying to read her mind. She shook off her thoughts, giving him a bright smile.
“Just woolgathering.”
He didn’t appear to be convinced.
She couldn’t hold his gaze, and instead looked over his shoulder-finding her salvation, or at least a way to avoid answering any further question he might put to her. “Didn’t you say you needed whisky?” When he didn’t react, she pointed over his shoulder. “Whisky, yeah? Little place called the ‘World of Whisky,’ just behind you. Should suit, right?”
Without waiting for an answer she started to walk towards the glass doors of the shop, fighting back a smile when she felt him follow her.
An hour later they re-emerged onto the street, the Doctor almost permanently beaming after having sampled some of the wares, Rose heartily sick of anything and everything to do with whisky in general. He’d known exactly which variety he’d wanted, but had relished sampling some new ones; she’d been amazed at just how much he enjoyed the fiery beverage, along with the fact that he’d actually had pounds with which to purchase the bottle. And a good thing, too, as he’d chosen a rare malt, no longer in production and growing ever-harder to find; she’d boggled at the price, when he’d gone to pay, but the Doctor had seemed completely nonplussed.
“If that’s so rare, why don’t you just go back and get it before they stop making it?”
The Doctor took her hand again, his free hand holding the bag with his precious bottle. “I like it better when it’s a bit…older.”
Rose raised her eyebrows.
“No comments from you about age, thank you kindly,” he said before she could offer one.
She laughed, causing him to laugh as well, and they continued along the Royal Mile. The clouds had rolled back in, the bright blue of the sky giving once more to a heavy grey which only emphasized the stones of the buildings, and Rose was fairly well sure that it was going to start raining before they could get back to the TARDIS. She sighed, wishing briefly that she’d thought to bring a proper jacket. She was surprised when, a few steps later, the Doctor pulled her to a stop. Glancing up at the sky, he released her hand; and then he shucked his jacket, expertly juggling the bottle between hands as the heavy leather slid off his arms.
“Might need this,” he said without preamble, offering her the jacket.
She boggled at him, stunned. They’d been travelling together for months-possibly even for at least a year-and he’d never offered her his jacket. Ever. It was like he was offering her a proper piece of himself, so intrinsic to him was the battered leather.
“Well go on, take it. Not gonna stand here all day, holding it out like a doof.”
“Th-thank you,” she stammered, taking the jacket. It was heavy, and still warm from his body heat, and she pulled it on gingerly. As it settled on her shoulders she was briefly enveloped by the scent of him-the smell of his soap and leather and aftershave, and a hint of sweat from his always wearing it. It took all of her willpower not to close her eyes, to bury her nose against the leather and simply inhale. She noticed the tips of his ears went pink as he watched her don it; on being caught watching her, he hurriedly shifted his attention elsewhere.
“Heart of Midlothian!” he said, seemingly apropos nothing.
“What?”
“Heart of Midlothian.” He gestured, the bag generally indicating she should look somewhere in front of them. “Famous, that. Marks the site of the tollbooth.”
“They marked a tollbooth?”
“It wasn’t just a tollbooth. Misleading name, that; it actually served all sorts of purposes. Town hall, prison, execution spot…bit of a one-stop shop, in ye olden days.”
“Right,” she drew out, scanning in front of her for what the Doctor was talking about.
“Right there, Rose,” he said, gentle exasperation in his tone. He took her hand again, gently tugged her forward, and then stopped. “Does what it says on the tin.”
At her feet was a heart, formed out of the cobbles of the street, a mosaic in grey and faded red. She leaned forward, wrinkling her nose as she noticed the blobs of spit marking it, then straightened.
“That normal, then? All that?” She released his hand, gesturing to the defilement of the mosaic.
“As normal as they get in Auld Reekie Been gone almost two hundred years, relative time, but people still remember what was here. Way of honoring their history, I guess you could say.” He smiled mischievously. “Didn’t you ever wonder why the football club up here is Hearts?”
“Um…no?”
“Guess that would be more Rickey’s thing, anyway,” he sniped, teasing.
Her response was preempted by the arrival of the rain, large, cold drops falling from the sky, splatting loudly against the pavement and stinging where they hit skin. The Doctor glanced at her, water already running off his hair, down his forehead; he paused just a beat before taking her hand, a manic grin lighting his features.
“Run!”
~fin~
Rating: K
Author: jlrpuck
Characters: Ninth Doctor; Rose Tyler
Disclaimer: Characters from Doctor Who are the property of BBC, and are used with the greatest of love and respect. No personal profit is intended from the writing or sharing of this story.
Summary: The Doctor and Rose during one of their more prosaic days travelling together.
Notes: Written for the first round of the storm_and_wolf ficathon, for which I chose prompt #37-
.
Many, many thanks to that site’s fabulous mod, mkejenkins, for being understanding when I said this would be late. It won’t happen again, ma’am!
Thank you to chicklet73 for her beta (silly EGT, off having to do something ridiculous like *work*). Any and all errors in this tale are mine, and mine alone.
Auld Reekie
The Doctor moved around the console, his brow furrowed as he experimentally tweaked here, tinkered there.
“Where to next?” he asked from the far side of the console, tilting his head as he reached for something on the column in the centre.
Rose glanced up from the magazine she’d been reading, a copy of National Geographic she’d found in one of the spare rooms on the TARDIS. The cover date was 2015, the cover story a photograph-filled paean to Prague. “How about Prague?”
The Doctor wrinkled his nose in distaste, moving around the column to join her. “Prague? Who wants to go to Prague? Rainy, grey, an absolute labyrinth. Sure, it’s got a castle and a bridge, but show me a medieval walled city on your planet that doesn’t.” He reached forward, plucking the magazine from her hands, ignoring her noise of protest. “’sides, don’t you know they tart up these pictures? Hide away the soot and the smelly backpackers, never mind forgetting to tell you just how expensive everything got once the West re-discovered it. Went there, right after the Iron Curtain fell-had a fantastic bowl of goulash for about a pound, one of the more amazing meals I’ve had on your planet. Can’t find that nowadays.”
“Why don’t we go back to when the Wall fell, then?”
“Timelines, Rose.” He lightly rapped her nose with the magazine before handing it back to her.
“How about…” She paused, trying to think of another place on Earth that might do. “Where’s that big old Arabian Palace in Spain?”
“The Alhambra?” The Doctor rolled the r, an interesting note in his northern accent.
“Sure?”
“Too hot.”
“You could always take the jacket off, you know.”
“Why’d I want to go and do something silly like that?” He sounded genuinely confused. “Need it, me, and I’ll not be taking it off simply so you can go run around some dusty old Spanish palace.”
“Just…well, looking at the pictures…thought it might be nice to visit a castle. A proper castle.”
“The Alhambra’s not a castle. It’s a palace.”
She sighed. “Right.”
“Besides, surely you’ve been to boring old Earth castles before-your country alone is littered with them. Windsor Castle and Edinburgh Castle and Dunnottar Castle and Carlisle Castle-all of them are just up the road from you, nice and old and haunted quite a bit, if that’s your thing. You could go see them anytime-why use the TARDIS to do it?”
Rose didn’t answer, glancing aside to the magazine. The picture of Prague’s skyline drew her in: the beautiful old stone, the peaks of the church spires, the foreboding outline of the castle. She’d been to Windsor, of course-her school couldn’t offer much in the way of travel, but it was an easy day trip out from London and so in her sixth year they’d all been herded onto a train and taken out to tour where the Queen lived (sometimes). It had seemed so clean, though-the ancient building scrubbed neat, the lawn and shrubbery trimmed with what had to be a level and a ruler. It was nothing like some of the places she’d seen in her time with the Doctor-huge, soaring buildings filled with glittering grandeur or soaring arches, magic and luck seeming to hold the large stones together in gravity-defying ways. Those palaces felt like castles, their sheer presence inspiring awe in the on-looker. Windsor had felt like a bit of a theme park, so neatly ordered and sanitised was it.
She’d never been to any of the other places the Doctor had listed-couldn’t have afforded it, even if she’d had a chance to go.
“Never been,” she finally answered, her voice quiet as she looked back to the Doctor. “Thought might be nice to explore my own planet, too; see how our castles stack up against the ones we’ve seen. Or at least to see how their dungeons compare,” she added with a small grin.
“Oi,” the Doctor rejoined, his voice affectionate. She felt a flash of gratitude that he didn’t look at her with pity; didn’t note that it had to have been because she’d not had much money growing up. Instead, he slowly grinned. “You want to see a real castle, then?”
“Yeah.” She felt her mouth curve in an answering smile, her brief bit of melancholy passing as it so often did when the Doctor was around.
“Then let's go see a proper castle.”
The Doctor hurried around the console, flipping levers, spinning spheres, unearthing the mallet to give a firm whack to a particularly sticky button; and then the time rotor wheezed into action, the TARDIS piloting them to wherever it was the Doctor had chosen to take them.
They landed with only a slight bobble a short time later-long enough only for her to grab a hoodie, to pull her hair back into an elastic, and to briefly use the facilities. She hurried out into the console room to find the Doctor waiting for her, his arms crossed as he rested against one of the struts. He ran his eyes over her appraisingly, then gave a short nod upon meeting her eye. “That’ll do. Now go on with you.” He jerked his head towards the door, uncrossing his arms to gesture in that direction. “Lead on.”
She grinned, running down the ramp to the doors, opening them eagerly. They were in an alley, buildings of dark grey stone on either side, ancient cobbles glistening on the ground. She stepped out, looking up and around her, grateful to note that although it had recently rained it currently wasn’t; and that although there was a nip to the air it wasn’t completely frigid.
The Doctor followed after her, turning to pull the door to before reaching out for her hand with a smile. “Let’s find you one castle.”
“So, where are we?” she asked as they set off down the alley, her shoes almost-but-not quite losing traction on the oily slickness of the centuries-old cobbles. “Prague?”
The Doctor made a noise of disapproval. “Prague. Why go there when you could come here? No worries about the language, and might be nice to see some of your own country before you go off gallivanting around other ones.”
“And here is…?”
They reached the end of the alley before she received her response, the answer coming not from the Doctor but from a busker just down the block. The wheezing of bagpipes began to fill the air, the pitch shifting from flat to sharp to on-key before the piper began to perform “Scotland the Brave.”
“Scotland? Anywhere on Earth, and you bring me to Scotland?”
The Doctor looked a bit put out at her reaction. “’Show me a castle,’ you say. ‘A proper castle.’ Edinburgh’s Castle is proper old, plenty of blood and history and even dungeons, and it’s in your own country! Why not here?”
“But…but, it’s Scotland! I could come to Scotland any time I want!”
“Driver’s choice,” the Doctor replied primly. “’sides, we’re out of whisky, and this is the only place I can get what I like. Don’t let me forget to stop by and pick up a bottle before we leave.”
~ - ~
They spent hours in the castle, the Doctor taking her around what seemed to be every square inch of it, telling her tales of murder and intrigue, relishing his role as tour guide. No surprise there, really-he’d always enjoyed telling her about the places they were visiting (or in which they were imprisoned, as the case may be), his blue eyes sparkling and his lips curving in an almost-permanent smile as he talked. He grew more animated as well, his hands dancing through the air before her as he described events; he practically skipped up the cobbles winding their way towards St. Margaret's chapel, describing the place in such detail that she had to wonder if he’d been there when the castle was still in proper use.
“Been here before, then?” she finally asked as they began the slow walk back to the castle entrance.
“Oh, loads of times. Have to make sure things happen right, don’t I?” He gave her a smug smile.
She hmmmed in response, causing his smile to fade.
“What? I didn’t plan for there to be an invading army of Brrrishlies hiding in amongst the retinue of King James. Had to take care of that, or else you’d be orange-skinned and mauve-haired, not all-” He waved in her direction. “And don’t even get me started on the shenanigans that went on here in your nineteenth century. People think body snatchers were all about selling corpses to the medical schools, but in truth they were part of something much larger, run right out of here.” He nodded his head decisively. “Sorted that, and here we are.” He beamed.
“You think you’re so smart,” she teased, leaning in to bump his arm with her shoulder.
“It’s cause I am,” he replied, leaning back in to her.
He took her hand as they walked through the outer gate, emerging onto the Promenade and into a blaze of glorious sunshine. It hadn’t rained while they’d toured, but it had been overcast and windy; the sudden sunshine was almost blinding, and Rose stumbled a bit on the pavement.
“Be a bit silly to get banged up playing tourist, don’t you think?” the Doctor asked, catching her elbow before she could fall.
“Jeopardy friendly,” she reminded him, slanting a smile in his direction.
“Bet a wise man told you that,” he grinned, his hand sliding from her elbow back down to clasp hers.
“Something like that.”
She loved bantering with the Doctor, especially when things were so easy between them. It was so easy to forget that he was over nine hundred years old; that he was one of the most powerful beings in the Universe, awed and feared by no small number of civilizations. When they were like this-hand-in-hand, laughing together, seeing the sights of whatever planet they happened to be visiting-it was so easy to give over to the attraction she felt for him. To imagine that, possibly, he might view her as more than some creature from a tiny planet in a medium-sized galaxy.
“You alright?” he asked after a few moments, pausing in the middle of the pavement of the Royal Mile. His blue eyes-so piercing, especially when he suspected something might be wrong with her-gave her a hard look, as though he were trying to read her mind. She shook off her thoughts, giving him a bright smile.
“Just woolgathering.”
He didn’t appear to be convinced.
She couldn’t hold his gaze, and instead looked over his shoulder-finding her salvation, or at least a way to avoid answering any further question he might put to her. “Didn’t you say you needed whisky?” When he didn’t react, she pointed over his shoulder. “Whisky, yeah? Little place called the ‘World of Whisky,’ just behind you. Should suit, right?”
Without waiting for an answer she started to walk towards the glass doors of the shop, fighting back a smile when she felt him follow her.
An hour later they re-emerged onto the street, the Doctor almost permanently beaming after having sampled some of the wares, Rose heartily sick of anything and everything to do with whisky in general. He’d known exactly which variety he’d wanted, but had relished sampling some new ones; she’d been amazed at just how much he enjoyed the fiery beverage, along with the fact that he’d actually had pounds with which to purchase the bottle. And a good thing, too, as he’d chosen a rare malt, no longer in production and growing ever-harder to find; she’d boggled at the price, when he’d gone to pay, but the Doctor had seemed completely nonplussed.
“If that’s so rare, why don’t you just go back and get it before they stop making it?”
The Doctor took her hand again, his free hand holding the bag with his precious bottle. “I like it better when it’s a bit…older.”
Rose raised her eyebrows.
“No comments from you about age, thank you kindly,” he said before she could offer one.
She laughed, causing him to laugh as well, and they continued along the Royal Mile. The clouds had rolled back in, the bright blue of the sky giving once more to a heavy grey which only emphasized the stones of the buildings, and Rose was fairly well sure that it was going to start raining before they could get back to the TARDIS. She sighed, wishing briefly that she’d thought to bring a proper jacket. She was surprised when, a few steps later, the Doctor pulled her to a stop. Glancing up at the sky, he released her hand; and then he shucked his jacket, expertly juggling the bottle between hands as the heavy leather slid off his arms.
“Might need this,” he said without preamble, offering her the jacket.
She boggled at him, stunned. They’d been travelling together for months-possibly even for at least a year-and he’d never offered her his jacket. Ever. It was like he was offering her a proper piece of himself, so intrinsic to him was the battered leather.
“Well go on, take it. Not gonna stand here all day, holding it out like a doof.”
“Th-thank you,” she stammered, taking the jacket. It was heavy, and still warm from his body heat, and she pulled it on gingerly. As it settled on her shoulders she was briefly enveloped by the scent of him-the smell of his soap and leather and aftershave, and a hint of sweat from his always wearing it. It took all of her willpower not to close her eyes, to bury her nose against the leather and simply inhale. She noticed the tips of his ears went pink as he watched her don it; on being caught watching her, he hurriedly shifted his attention elsewhere.
“Heart of Midlothian!” he said, seemingly apropos nothing.
“What?”
“Heart of Midlothian.” He gestured, the bag generally indicating she should look somewhere in front of them. “Famous, that. Marks the site of the tollbooth.”
“They marked a tollbooth?”
“It wasn’t just a tollbooth. Misleading name, that; it actually served all sorts of purposes. Town hall, prison, execution spot…bit of a one-stop shop, in ye olden days.”
“Right,” she drew out, scanning in front of her for what the Doctor was talking about.
“Right there, Rose,” he said, gentle exasperation in his tone. He took her hand again, gently tugged her forward, and then stopped. “Does what it says on the tin.”
At her feet was a heart, formed out of the cobbles of the street, a mosaic in grey and faded red. She leaned forward, wrinkling her nose as she noticed the blobs of spit marking it, then straightened.
“That normal, then? All that?” She released his hand, gesturing to the defilement of the mosaic.
“As normal as they get in Auld Reekie Been gone almost two hundred years, relative time, but people still remember what was here. Way of honoring their history, I guess you could say.” He smiled mischievously. “Didn’t you ever wonder why the football club up here is Hearts?”
“Um…no?”
“Guess that would be more Rickey’s thing, anyway,” he sniped, teasing.
Her response was preempted by the arrival of the rain, large, cold drops falling from the sky, splatting loudly against the pavement and stinging where they hit skin. The Doctor glanced at her, water already running off his hair, down his forehead; he paused just a beat before taking her hand, a manic grin lighting his features.
“Run!”
~fin~