And So Things Go, Chapter 14
Title- And So Things Go (14/34)
Author- jlrpuck
Rating - T
Pairing - Peter Carlisle/Rose Tyler
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 - The story of how Peter Carlisle moved to London to live with Rose Tyler.
Author’s Notes - Progress is made in the investigation.
earlgreytea68 and chicklet73 have been ideal betas for this-supportive, diligent, and full of excellent ideas. lostwolfchats has been fabulous, as well, and equally as invaluable, ensuring that I didn’t ruin the Queen’s English…too badly. Any errors-grammatical, colloquial, or factual-are mine, and mine alone.
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 | Epilogue
It was three days later that he and Elias finally got the evidence they needed. Three long days, spent in the car with Elias, watching, waiting, thinking of Rose and how much he wished he’d be going home to her, and not to his empty home in Kendal, when he wasn’t staring at whichever building they were parked in front of, willing Phillips or Wilson to do something stupid and save them all some time.
It was on the third day-well, night really, as it happened at three in the morning--that someone did something stupid, and he never thought he’d be so grateful for someone’s stupidity. Unfortunately for him and Elias-or, perhaps, fortunately-the stupidity occurred at the house where Judy was being kept, and the Met’s contact in the GGC was the one who got to play hero and save the day. Ruby, who’d been spending days with Judy, had been spending the nights with Elias--and Peter didn’t miss how Elias couldn’t stop touching Ruby as they talked, or during the drive to the station. He was reminded of finding Rose waiting to go in after Swinson, and he felt a flash of sympathy for his partner as they listened to the particulars of what happened at the safe house.
Peter didn’t mind not playing hero-his encounter with the bomb had reminded him that he’d never really had a taste for derring-do-but he wouldn’t have minded being the one to find that key piece of missing evidence, swooping in and saving the case through brains and not brawn. He suspected that a better detective might have been able to do that; he once again pondered if he was half so good a DI as he thought he was. If he wasn’t...if he was only good because of where he was...would he ever be able to learn to be better? Had he maximised his potential, and that was that? Or was he stifled because of where he was; would he, given a more challenging environment (he ignored the little voice that suggested London), grow to become the detective he hoped he was, instead of the detective everyone else saw him as?
He rubbed at his eyes, pushing the thoughts down for what felt like the hundredth time that day. He and Elias were meant to be finishing the final pieces of their report after spending much of the morning interrogating Wilson and Phillips, extracting a confession and incriminations from one, and stony silence from the other. They’d paused only for lunch, and had spent the afternoon working on paperwork, trying to ensure they’d tied up loose ends, that they’d notified everyone who needed notification-and that the case was ready to be sent back to London.
As Elias wandered off for the fourth time that afternoon, mobile in hand, Peter simply let his mind wander, finding his thoughts far more interesting than writing about a corrupt doctor who’d been acting as an intermediary between some of London’s finest and Glasgow’s worst. Phillips had had ready access to all sorts of controlled substances, including tetrodotoxin; Wilson and Shields had had ready access to the more conventional street drugs. The dirty cops had just been interested in profit. The rest of the group had been less than happy to learn that Shields wasn’t pleased with where he fell in the hierarchy, that he’d wanted to branch out on his own and, wanting his competition out of the way, had decided to rat his former partners out. Just once, he’d like to come across a case where money wasn’t one of the driving motives. Once-was that too much to ask?
Wilson had sworn it was Phillips who’d made sure Shields skin came in contact with the poison; Phillips had said nothing, staring stonily at Peter and Elias as they each tried to break him. Peter had been surprised that Phillips didn’t try to implicate Wilson for the murders of Timothy and Johnny; the two bodies had been positively identified through fingerprints the day before; the trace evidence, gathered from the bodies, was still being processed.
It was going to be quite a case, no mistake, and he didn’t envy Elias the work left in London.
He rubbed his neck before stretching, resolving as he relaxed to finish his part of the report and just be done with it.
“Having fun, then, Peter?” Elias moved around him, settling into the chair across the double desk.
“Loads, thanks. And how’s London?”
“A bit of a mess. They’ve still a bit of work yet to do. Well. I say ‘they’; I fear I mean ‘Ruby and I’.”
“No rest for the wicked.” Peter grinned as he tilted his head down, intending to resume writing.
“I’m afraid not.” Elias sighed. “You do realize, of course, that your job on this will be far from done, when you leave?”
Peter’s head shot up. “What?”
“Peter, this is only half the investigation.”
“We’ve caught the men we were brought in to catch,” Peter replied evenly, unsure where Elias was going with his comments.
“Yes. But this little ditty is going to be a critical piece of bringing the...London subjects...in. And there will be a trial, of that I’m sure.”
“But-”
“Peter. You’re as involved in this as I am.”
“I didn’t do anything, Elias!” His feeling of inadequacy bubbled through defences weakened by exhaustion.
Elias looked at him, disbelieving. “Don’t be stupid, Peter.” He bent his head, picking up a pen and preparing to write.
Peter stared at him, willing him to look up and explain what he meant. Elias ignored him, writing slowly across the desk, and Peter returned to working on his report with a sigh.
It took him two hours to write a report which should have taken half that; he couldn’t stop pondering Elias’s words, wondered what his partner had meant. Peter hadn’t been protesting falsely-he felt like he hadn’t done anything on the case, that he’d been along more as a sidekick than anything else. Elias and Ruby and their contact in the GGC had done most of the work; he’d just broken into a building that, by rights, should have killed him.
Not such a good track record, that.
Why did he care, though? He had a comfortable job in Kendal. He might not like his co-workers, but he knew the townspeople liked him well enough. He loved the area; he had happy memories tied to his home and places around the town and countryside. He understood the flow of things in Kendal, understood the hidden currents, the swirls and eddies which permeated even the smallest case.
He knew Kendal-knew he was a good DI in Kendal. At least, he was fairly sure-no, almost positive--he was a good DI in Kendal. And it felt like there was no challenge left.
He threw his pen down, frustrated with his thoughts, wondering why it mattered at all. He wasn’t going anywhere, not for a while; Rose had said she didn’t want to move in with him. He wasn’t on the market for a new job. If he was in the market for a new job, it wouldn’t be with the Met. Maybe it would be as a teacher. A history teacher. He could do that-could dress in tweeds and jeans and brogues each day, could try to share his love of the past with classrooms full of ASBOs...
Ok, so maybe not a teacher. But he could do something. He’d sat a double degree; that had to count for something.
He picked up the pen, turning the Biro over in his hands as he thought. He wasn’t going to quit the police services; he likely wasn’t going to be leaving Kendal any time soon. It was a theoretical exercise, brought about because he was feeling inadequate, and he’d no doubt be just fine after a visit with Rose or a good night’s sleep, or-preferably-both in rapid succession.
“Carlisle.”
Peter glanced up; Elias was looking at him bemusedly.
“What?”
“You done?”
“Oh. Yes.” Peter tossed the Biro down, handing his sheaf of paper over to his partner.
“When are you going home?”
Peter leaned back, stretching his legs out. “I...hadn’t really thought about it.”
Elias laughed. “You just sat there, staring into space for ten solid minutes, and you weren’t thinking about home?”
“Ten minutes?”
“Honestly, Peter, you have the worst time sense of anyone I’ve ever met.” Elias pushed back and stood, before walking over to the copier. He ran a copy of the documents before fastening the originals together and placing them in the appropriate box. “Ruby and I, we’re going for a meal tonight-a kind of mini-celebration for closing this part of the case. You’re welcome to join us.”
“I...wouldn’t want to intrude.” Peter felt a flush wash through him, flattery at the invitation warring with embarrassment at being invited to interrupt what was sure to be a romantic dinner between husband and wife. He wanted to go-found himself actually yearning to go-but he didn’t want to feel like an interloper.
Another laugh from Elias. “If you were intruding, you’d not be invited. And Ruby’ll have my head if you don’t show.”
Peter felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. “So this is all to keep Ruby from killing you.”
“Yes. Lord knows, I can’t stand your company,” Elias replied drily. “Now if you’re done fishing for compliments, can we leave? I want a shower before I go out to dinner with my wife and friend.”
Peter blinked. Elias considered him a friend. He smiled. “You smell a bit ripe, you do.” He stood, joining his partner, opening the desk drawer and pulling out the nearly-empty bag of lollies. “Let’s get out of here.”
They rode back to the hotel in companionable silence; for his part, Peter felt lighter than he had in weeks in spite of feeling like he’d not pulled his weight on the case. They’d caught a murderer (or two); they’d helped to uncover a nasty side of the drugs trade in his home city.
Best of all, Martin hadn’t been involved in any way, shape or form.
He’d heard from his brother again, briefly, the day before. It was a short call, apologising for the state he’d been in when Peter has last visited, telling Peter not to worry, that he was still clean, and that Martin might just take him up on the offer to talk about cheating partners one of these days. He’d been touched, and promised Martin he’d be by again at the weekend, now three days hence.
He wondered if he’d still be in Glasgow, and resolved to give Martin a quick call before going to dinner.
It was nearing seven when they reached the hotel, and Elias suggested they meet for supper in the lobby at eight. It was just enough time for Peter to run upstairs, to take a shower and shave, and put on a fresh change of clothes-the plum shirt again, over dark trousers-before sitting down to call Martin. His brother was in, but was getting ready for dinner with Mariah (“We’re going to talk,” Martin had said), but had agreed to meet Peter for a cup of coffee the following morning.
Ruby and Elias were waiting for him when he returned downstairs, and he was greeted with a hug and a kiss on the cheek from Ruby.
“Good to see you, Peter.”
He’d just seen her the night before, as he and Elias had shared a post-workday pint. He refrained from pointing that out, instead offering, “And you, Ruby.”
“You don’t clean up half bad, in the end.” She smiled at him as she said it, and he felt himself blush.
“If you’re done flirting with the poor man, are you ready to go?” Elias interjected.
“I’m not flirting, I’m stating a fact,” Ruby retorted.
“It’s why Rose dates me,” he offered tentatively.
Ruby and Elias stared at him, dumbfounded, and he grinned.
“Peter Carlisle. You made a joke!” Ruby said, only half-kidding.
Elias laughed. “He makes plenty of them, when he thinks no one’s paying attention.”
Elias led them through the lobby to the posh restaurant in the hotel.
Dinner with Ruby and Elias was incredibly enjoyable, the couple joking and playing off each other, but never making him feel excluded. As dinner wound down, he found himself wishing Rose was there, could meet this extraordinary pair sitting across from him.
“When do you head back to London?” Peter asked.
“That was a non-sequitur,” Ruby observed, ending her story about a rather adventurous camping trip in Wales halfway through.
“Saturday, I think. We just have to get everything cleaned up here.” Elias fought back a laugh as he answered Peter’s question.
“Would you...I mean, if you’d like...when I’m next in London, maybe you’d like to have dinner with Rose and I?”
He expected Ruby to make a comment about him inviting them out; he was pleased when, instead, she smiled gently. “We’d love to, Peter. Rose must be an extraordinary woman indeed, to be with you.”
He blushed, embarrassed at the compliment and how matter-of-fact it was.
“You’ll have to come down to London for this case,” Elias added.
Peter sighed, still not understanding but not wanting to debate it. Elias picked up on at least part of what he was thinking though, as he continued, “You’ll have to testify, should it come to that. You were important to the case, no matter what you might think.”
Peter rubbed his eyes before turning his gaze to his cup of coffee. “Just let me know what you need me to do.”
“Elias said you’d been in Kendal ten years?” Ruby asked. Her voice held nothing but curiosity, and he glanced up, nodding.
“Thereabouts.”
“Your whole career?”
“Was hired on as a PC just out of Uni.”
“Where’d you go to school?”
“Not far from here, actually.” A lifetime ago.
“Why Kendal?”
He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “They accepted me.”
“As good a reason as any,” Ruby said sagely. Elias watched him, quietly, from across the table. “D’you enjoy it?” Ruby asked, drawing his attention back to her.
“It’s had its highs and lows.” Without that job in Kendal, he suspected his life would have taken a vastly different path. Would he have still met Rose Tyler? He didn’t know.
“How long have you been a detective?”
He paused, thinking. “Almost seven years.” Over five of those had been spent as a DI, but he didn’t feel the urge to share that fact. “Elias said he met you in London.”
Ruby smiled, looking fondly at her husband. “He did indeed. Charmed me right out of my knickers.”
Elias looked horrified, and Peter laughed.
“Not literally. Well, not until later. But we’ve been a pair ever since.”
“You work as partners?” Peter was surprised.
“Oh, not at all. I’m a detective, but my speciality is communications.”
“Thus the flat.”
“Thus the flat.” Ruby grinned. “It’s actually quite rare that we work together. That is, excepting the case at hand. Most days, though, I’m off doing dull things while Elias gets to go play.”
The conversation turned away from work, back to a discussion of interests they shared. Peter was surprised to discover that Ruby was a fellow lover of history, and they spent quite a while talking about the history of the area-not of Glasgow, as there was plenty written about that, especially the Capitol era, but of the area surrounding it. Ruby promised to show Peter around London when he next visited Rose, more than eager to take him to her favourite sites. Elias periodically sighed indulgently, clearly used to his wife’s enthusiasm for all things historical.
Peter was surprised to look down at his watch and find it was nearing midnight by the time they settled the bill. When was the last time he’d gone to dinner and had such a good time? Actually-when was the last time he’d gone to dinner without Rose and had such a good time?
It had been a very long time, indeed.
~ - ~
Chapter 15
Author- jlrpuck
Rating - T
Pairing - Peter Carlisle/Rose Tyler
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 - The story of how Peter Carlisle moved to London to live with Rose Tyler.
Author’s Notes - Progress is made in the investigation.
earlgreytea68 and chicklet73 have been ideal betas for this-supportive, diligent, and full of excellent ideas. lostwolfchats has been fabulous, as well, and equally as invaluable, ensuring that I didn’t ruin the Queen’s English…too badly. Any errors-grammatical, colloquial, or factual-are mine, and mine alone.
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 | Epilogue
It was three days later that he and Elias finally got the evidence they needed. Three long days, spent in the car with Elias, watching, waiting, thinking of Rose and how much he wished he’d be going home to her, and not to his empty home in Kendal, when he wasn’t staring at whichever building they were parked in front of, willing Phillips or Wilson to do something stupid and save them all some time.
It was on the third day-well, night really, as it happened at three in the morning--that someone did something stupid, and he never thought he’d be so grateful for someone’s stupidity. Unfortunately for him and Elias-or, perhaps, fortunately-the stupidity occurred at the house where Judy was being kept, and the Met’s contact in the GGC was the one who got to play hero and save the day. Ruby, who’d been spending days with Judy, had been spending the nights with Elias--and Peter didn’t miss how Elias couldn’t stop touching Ruby as they talked, or during the drive to the station. He was reminded of finding Rose waiting to go in after Swinson, and he felt a flash of sympathy for his partner as they listened to the particulars of what happened at the safe house.
Peter didn’t mind not playing hero-his encounter with the bomb had reminded him that he’d never really had a taste for derring-do-but he wouldn’t have minded being the one to find that key piece of missing evidence, swooping in and saving the case through brains and not brawn. He suspected that a better detective might have been able to do that; he once again pondered if he was half so good a DI as he thought he was. If he wasn’t...if he was only good because of where he was...would he ever be able to learn to be better? Had he maximised his potential, and that was that? Or was he stifled because of where he was; would he, given a more challenging environment (he ignored the little voice that suggested London), grow to become the detective he hoped he was, instead of the detective everyone else saw him as?
He rubbed at his eyes, pushing the thoughts down for what felt like the hundredth time that day. He and Elias were meant to be finishing the final pieces of their report after spending much of the morning interrogating Wilson and Phillips, extracting a confession and incriminations from one, and stony silence from the other. They’d paused only for lunch, and had spent the afternoon working on paperwork, trying to ensure they’d tied up loose ends, that they’d notified everyone who needed notification-and that the case was ready to be sent back to London.
As Elias wandered off for the fourth time that afternoon, mobile in hand, Peter simply let his mind wander, finding his thoughts far more interesting than writing about a corrupt doctor who’d been acting as an intermediary between some of London’s finest and Glasgow’s worst. Phillips had had ready access to all sorts of controlled substances, including tetrodotoxin; Wilson and Shields had had ready access to the more conventional street drugs. The dirty cops had just been interested in profit. The rest of the group had been less than happy to learn that Shields wasn’t pleased with where he fell in the hierarchy, that he’d wanted to branch out on his own and, wanting his competition out of the way, had decided to rat his former partners out. Just once, he’d like to come across a case where money wasn’t one of the driving motives. Once-was that too much to ask?
Wilson had sworn it was Phillips who’d made sure Shields skin came in contact with the poison; Phillips had said nothing, staring stonily at Peter and Elias as they each tried to break him. Peter had been surprised that Phillips didn’t try to implicate Wilson for the murders of Timothy and Johnny; the two bodies had been positively identified through fingerprints the day before; the trace evidence, gathered from the bodies, was still being processed.
It was going to be quite a case, no mistake, and he didn’t envy Elias the work left in London.
He rubbed his neck before stretching, resolving as he relaxed to finish his part of the report and just be done with it.
“Having fun, then, Peter?” Elias moved around him, settling into the chair across the double desk.
“Loads, thanks. And how’s London?”
“A bit of a mess. They’ve still a bit of work yet to do. Well. I say ‘they’; I fear I mean ‘Ruby and I’.”
“No rest for the wicked.” Peter grinned as he tilted his head down, intending to resume writing.
“I’m afraid not.” Elias sighed. “You do realize, of course, that your job on this will be far from done, when you leave?”
Peter’s head shot up. “What?”
“Peter, this is only half the investigation.”
“We’ve caught the men we were brought in to catch,” Peter replied evenly, unsure where Elias was going with his comments.
“Yes. But this little ditty is going to be a critical piece of bringing the...London subjects...in. And there will be a trial, of that I’m sure.”
“But-”
“Peter. You’re as involved in this as I am.”
“I didn’t do anything, Elias!” His feeling of inadequacy bubbled through defences weakened by exhaustion.
Elias looked at him, disbelieving. “Don’t be stupid, Peter.” He bent his head, picking up a pen and preparing to write.
Peter stared at him, willing him to look up and explain what he meant. Elias ignored him, writing slowly across the desk, and Peter returned to working on his report with a sigh.
It took him two hours to write a report which should have taken half that; he couldn’t stop pondering Elias’s words, wondered what his partner had meant. Peter hadn’t been protesting falsely-he felt like he hadn’t done anything on the case, that he’d been along more as a sidekick than anything else. Elias and Ruby and their contact in the GGC had done most of the work; he’d just broken into a building that, by rights, should have killed him.
Not such a good track record, that.
Why did he care, though? He had a comfortable job in Kendal. He might not like his co-workers, but he knew the townspeople liked him well enough. He loved the area; he had happy memories tied to his home and places around the town and countryside. He understood the flow of things in Kendal, understood the hidden currents, the swirls and eddies which permeated even the smallest case.
He knew Kendal-knew he was a good DI in Kendal. At least, he was fairly sure-no, almost positive--he was a good DI in Kendal. And it felt like there was no challenge left.
He threw his pen down, frustrated with his thoughts, wondering why it mattered at all. He wasn’t going anywhere, not for a while; Rose had said she didn’t want to move in with him. He wasn’t on the market for a new job. If he was in the market for a new job, it wouldn’t be with the Met. Maybe it would be as a teacher. A history teacher. He could do that-could dress in tweeds and jeans and brogues each day, could try to share his love of the past with classrooms full of ASBOs...
Ok, so maybe not a teacher. But he could do something. He’d sat a double degree; that had to count for something.
He picked up the pen, turning the Biro over in his hands as he thought. He wasn’t going to quit the police services; he likely wasn’t going to be leaving Kendal any time soon. It was a theoretical exercise, brought about because he was feeling inadequate, and he’d no doubt be just fine after a visit with Rose or a good night’s sleep, or-preferably-both in rapid succession.
“Carlisle.”
Peter glanced up; Elias was looking at him bemusedly.
“What?”
“You done?”
“Oh. Yes.” Peter tossed the Biro down, handing his sheaf of paper over to his partner.
“When are you going home?”
Peter leaned back, stretching his legs out. “I...hadn’t really thought about it.”
Elias laughed. “You just sat there, staring into space for ten solid minutes, and you weren’t thinking about home?”
“Ten minutes?”
“Honestly, Peter, you have the worst time sense of anyone I’ve ever met.” Elias pushed back and stood, before walking over to the copier. He ran a copy of the documents before fastening the originals together and placing them in the appropriate box. “Ruby and I, we’re going for a meal tonight-a kind of mini-celebration for closing this part of the case. You’re welcome to join us.”
“I...wouldn’t want to intrude.” Peter felt a flush wash through him, flattery at the invitation warring with embarrassment at being invited to interrupt what was sure to be a romantic dinner between husband and wife. He wanted to go-found himself actually yearning to go-but he didn’t want to feel like an interloper.
Another laugh from Elias. “If you were intruding, you’d not be invited. And Ruby’ll have my head if you don’t show.”
Peter felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. “So this is all to keep Ruby from killing you.”
“Yes. Lord knows, I can’t stand your company,” Elias replied drily. “Now if you’re done fishing for compliments, can we leave? I want a shower before I go out to dinner with my wife and friend.”
Peter blinked. Elias considered him a friend. He smiled. “You smell a bit ripe, you do.” He stood, joining his partner, opening the desk drawer and pulling out the nearly-empty bag of lollies. “Let’s get out of here.”
They rode back to the hotel in companionable silence; for his part, Peter felt lighter than he had in weeks in spite of feeling like he’d not pulled his weight on the case. They’d caught a murderer (or two); they’d helped to uncover a nasty side of the drugs trade in his home city.
Best of all, Martin hadn’t been involved in any way, shape or form.
He’d heard from his brother again, briefly, the day before. It was a short call, apologising for the state he’d been in when Peter has last visited, telling Peter not to worry, that he was still clean, and that Martin might just take him up on the offer to talk about cheating partners one of these days. He’d been touched, and promised Martin he’d be by again at the weekend, now three days hence.
He wondered if he’d still be in Glasgow, and resolved to give Martin a quick call before going to dinner.
It was nearing seven when they reached the hotel, and Elias suggested they meet for supper in the lobby at eight. It was just enough time for Peter to run upstairs, to take a shower and shave, and put on a fresh change of clothes-the plum shirt again, over dark trousers-before sitting down to call Martin. His brother was in, but was getting ready for dinner with Mariah (“We’re going to talk,” Martin had said), but had agreed to meet Peter for a cup of coffee the following morning.
Ruby and Elias were waiting for him when he returned downstairs, and he was greeted with a hug and a kiss on the cheek from Ruby.
“Good to see you, Peter.”
He’d just seen her the night before, as he and Elias had shared a post-workday pint. He refrained from pointing that out, instead offering, “And you, Ruby.”
“You don’t clean up half bad, in the end.” She smiled at him as she said it, and he felt himself blush.
“If you’re done flirting with the poor man, are you ready to go?” Elias interjected.
“I’m not flirting, I’m stating a fact,” Ruby retorted.
“It’s why Rose dates me,” he offered tentatively.
Ruby and Elias stared at him, dumbfounded, and he grinned.
“Peter Carlisle. You made a joke!” Ruby said, only half-kidding.
Elias laughed. “He makes plenty of them, when he thinks no one’s paying attention.”
Elias led them through the lobby to the posh restaurant in the hotel.
Dinner with Ruby and Elias was incredibly enjoyable, the couple joking and playing off each other, but never making him feel excluded. As dinner wound down, he found himself wishing Rose was there, could meet this extraordinary pair sitting across from him.
“When do you head back to London?” Peter asked.
“That was a non-sequitur,” Ruby observed, ending her story about a rather adventurous camping trip in Wales halfway through.
“Saturday, I think. We just have to get everything cleaned up here.” Elias fought back a laugh as he answered Peter’s question.
“Would you...I mean, if you’d like...when I’m next in London, maybe you’d like to have dinner with Rose and I?”
He expected Ruby to make a comment about him inviting them out; he was pleased when, instead, she smiled gently. “We’d love to, Peter. Rose must be an extraordinary woman indeed, to be with you.”
He blushed, embarrassed at the compliment and how matter-of-fact it was.
“You’ll have to come down to London for this case,” Elias added.
Peter sighed, still not understanding but not wanting to debate it. Elias picked up on at least part of what he was thinking though, as he continued, “You’ll have to testify, should it come to that. You were important to the case, no matter what you might think.”
Peter rubbed his eyes before turning his gaze to his cup of coffee. “Just let me know what you need me to do.”
“Elias said you’d been in Kendal ten years?” Ruby asked. Her voice held nothing but curiosity, and he glanced up, nodding.
“Thereabouts.”
“Your whole career?”
“Was hired on as a PC just out of Uni.”
“Where’d you go to school?”
“Not far from here, actually.” A lifetime ago.
“Why Kendal?”
He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “They accepted me.”
“As good a reason as any,” Ruby said sagely. Elias watched him, quietly, from across the table. “D’you enjoy it?” Ruby asked, drawing his attention back to her.
“It’s had its highs and lows.” Without that job in Kendal, he suspected his life would have taken a vastly different path. Would he have still met Rose Tyler? He didn’t know.
“How long have you been a detective?”
He paused, thinking. “Almost seven years.” Over five of those had been spent as a DI, but he didn’t feel the urge to share that fact. “Elias said he met you in London.”
Ruby smiled, looking fondly at her husband. “He did indeed. Charmed me right out of my knickers.”
Elias looked horrified, and Peter laughed.
“Not literally. Well, not until later. But we’ve been a pair ever since.”
“You work as partners?” Peter was surprised.
“Oh, not at all. I’m a detective, but my speciality is communications.”
“Thus the flat.”
“Thus the flat.” Ruby grinned. “It’s actually quite rare that we work together. That is, excepting the case at hand. Most days, though, I’m off doing dull things while Elias gets to go play.”
The conversation turned away from work, back to a discussion of interests they shared. Peter was surprised to discover that Ruby was a fellow lover of history, and they spent quite a while talking about the history of the area-not of Glasgow, as there was plenty written about that, especially the Capitol era, but of the area surrounding it. Ruby promised to show Peter around London when he next visited Rose, more than eager to take him to her favourite sites. Elias periodically sighed indulgently, clearly used to his wife’s enthusiasm for all things historical.
Peter was surprised to look down at his watch and find it was nearing midnight by the time they settled the bill. When was the last time he’d gone to dinner and had such a good time? Actually-when was the last time he’d gone to dinner without Rose and had such a good time?
It had been a very long time, indeed.
~ - ~
Chapter 15