Torchwood 1938: Let Us Build Us A City

[Sisilaya Vulmecura]

"Celia? What is this you are saying? You believe that, because I have found a remarkable artefact pointing towards the existence of a historical Atlantis, I should join in a search for little green men from Mars? That I should also look for a magic blue box?" He laughed, just a little. "Such a thing is preposterous. Even if life existed elsewhere, it would require such time to come here as to make the journey absurd."

Robert looked up, set his note pad aside, and removed his loupe. "Doctor," he said, voice flat. "To borrow your phrase: we have proof."

Robert had answered before she could, but somehow she didn't mind. His support would make things easier on the whole case. She leaned with her hip against the table, tilting her head slightly as her scarlet lips parted, taking up the Doctor.

"We all react with skeptism at first, Torchwood has been very through in keeping everything.. extraterrestrial away from common eyes. Humanity only recently was able to accept the Earth was not created by a God, but rather developed. Just imagine what chaos would ensue when it became know extraterrestrials are quite real. The blue boxes is something we don't deal with unless we run into it, that particular subject is something concerning the Cardiff division."

"You are... how do you say? Pulling my leg, yes?"

"No," Robert smiled. "We're not."

She too, smiled and moved to stand beside Robert, playing her hand on his arm tentatively.

"The reason I've come her, Herr Frobenius, is that I've come to invite you to Belfast to have a look at our division on your own, and we will, like you, proof that what we say is true. Our intent is for you to join us, we could use your expertise and in return you will be free to expand your research on Atlantis funded by the Torchwood Institute."

Now, let's see how he'd react to that. Her hand tightened on Roberts sleeve unknowingly. Her green intently on the older man before them.

[The Meddler]

"You are... how do you say? Pulling my leg, yes?"

"No," Robert smiled. "We're not."

The Doctor eyed them, curiousity and skepticism mixed on his face. He looked like he wanted to believe them, but was certain this was part of an elaborate practical joke. "Extraterrestrials..?" he said, slowly.

Robert nodded. "That's pretty much what I thought, the first time they told me."

She too, smiled and moved to stand beside Robert, playing her hand on his arm tentatively.

Without thinking about it he placed his hand on hers, enjoying the warmth and the smooth feel of her skin.

"The reason I've come her, Herr Frobenius, is that I've come to invite you to Belfast to have a look at our division on your own, and we will, like you, proof that what we say is true. Our intent is for you to join us, we could use your expertise and in return you will be free to expand your research on Atlantis funded by the Torchwood Institute."

She tightened her grip - expectantly, not painfully - and he gave her hand a quick squeeze. The Doctor gave them both a quick glance and an affectionate smile, then started thinking. Finally, he nodded.

"I am a man of science," he said, slowly. "That means I must not allow myself to reject out of hand things that seem incredible, simply because they seem incredible." He smiled. "I would be delighted to visit Belfast with you and your husband, Celia. And if what you say is true..."

He shook his head, disbelievingly. "Incredible. If what you tell me is true, then this would change everything." He paused. There was a knock at the door, and he laughed. "Except for the need for food, and I fear we are commiting a crime against both man and nature by allowing the dinner prepared by my cook to sit unattended. Come, tell me more of Torchwood and of this proof that you have..."

With that, he ushered the both of them from the room.

---

"No, no," Doctor Frobenius insisted, good humor in his voice, "I simply will not hear of it."

The 'simple dinner' the Doctor had promised had proved to be cold antipasto of prosciutto, provolone, anchovies, and eggs, served with fresh bread and tomatoes and wine. This had been followed by an unfamiliar soup made with beans, bacon, diced tomatoes, and a rice-like pasta. And more wine. And then roast chicken, served with a sauce of butter and lemon and mushrooms and white wine. And more wine. And then strawberries and fresh cream, served with brandy and coffee.

"Had I known that this night would have been an occassion to celebrate your wedding, Celia, I would have had my chef prepare something special," the Doctor had said.

But now he was being obstinate.

"I simply will not allow my personal enthusiasm to spoil your honeymoon, Celia," he insisted. "You and your husband have had to spend too much time apart already, and I will not interfere further. I can travel to Ireland afterwards."

[Sisilaya Vulmecura]

The warmth of his hand on hers, the way he stood beside her, proudly of his new bride almost made her forget this was actually a scam, it felt right. She shook her head, clearing her face, Robert was more interested in a quick romp then something as binding as marriage. And she was completely fine with that too, right? She never believed herself anyone suitable for marriage.

Though this did feel rather nice, even though it was a scam. Roberts hand on hers, his protective manner towards her felt safe. Something she had never felt in anyone's presence before because she had never allowed anyone to behave towards her that way.

"I am a man of science," he said, slowly. "That means I must not allow myself to reject out of hand things that seem incredible, simply because they seem incredible." He smiled. "I would be delighted to visit Belfast with you and your husband, Celia. And if what you say is true..."

He shook his head, disbelievingly. "Incredible. If what you tell me is true, then this would change everything." He paused. There was a knock at the door, and he laughed. "Except for the need for food, and I fear we are commiting a crime against both man and nature by allowing the dinner prepared by my cook to sit unattended. Come, tell me more of Torchwood and of this proof that you have..."

Celia was about to reply to the doctor when indeed there was a knock on the door, signalling dinner was ready. She too had to agree she was rather hungry, her lunch had been light. She couldn't think sharply on a full stomach.

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Dinner was an extravaganza of flavours and colours. She was swearing to herself mentally for being a woman, having to stick to proper etiquette and eat only a bit of everything. Really, she wanted to take a chunk off that chicken and wolf it down like she had been used to do from her mum's cooking. But no, she was the vision of a Lady, eating her food with as much grace as her stride was. It was part of the allure.

"Had I known that this night would have been an occassion to celebrate your wedding, Celia, I would have had my chef prepare something special," the Doctor had said.

But now he was being obstinate.

"I simply will not allow my personal enthusiasm to spoil your honeymoon, Celia," he insisted. "You and your husband have had to spend too much time apart already, and I will not interfere further. I can travel to Ireland afterwards."

She laughed, kindly, dabbing her mouth softly with the napkin that had been her lap during dinner. She smiled at Robert and placed her hand over his on the table, gently stroking the back of his hand with her thumb.

"We are at the end of our honeymoon already, we'll be leaving back for Belfast in two days. You're welcome to take the train back with us, we'd love to have your company don't we Robert?"

She eyed Robert, her hand tightening on his signalling he'd better play along.

[The Meddler]

Robert didn't recognize half of what he was eating. Oh, it was obvious that it was cold cuts and cheese, and soup, and chicken, but the names? Nah, he had no clue. dang good is what he called it all privately, but he kept that to himself. Instead, he showed his appreciation to host and chef in the most direct way possible.

He ate everything he was served. And he washed it down with wine. And he enjoyed it all immensely. And he made sure to tell Doctor Frobenius and to congratulate the chef.

He was picking at the strawberries and sipping black coffee laced with just a splash of brandy as the conversation drifted back around to Torchwood again. Really, it had never quite left - the Doctor was too intrigued by it all - but that had been interspersed with some of the Doctor's stories about his research in Mali, which led to one of Robert's more printable stories - this one about an expedition into the Rub' al Khali in search of Iram of the Pillars (and it's fabled "fort of red silver"), which led to Celia relating a story about exploring a network of artificially carved caverns under the Mountains of Mourn.

He didn't think the Doctor had picked up on it, but he noticed that she wasn't describing everything that happened in that expedition. Her voice was slightly clipped at moments, and she occasionally swallowed or rethought a word or phrase, and he found himself squeezing her hand at one moment when she seemed unwilling (or unable) to continue the narrative.

Just playing a role, right? The sarcastic inner voice didn't sound convinced.

And now the Doctor was insisting that he didn't want to spoil their honeymoon by intruding.

She laughed, kindly, dabbing her mouth softly with the napkin that had been her lap during dinner. She smiled at Robert and placed her hand over his on the table, gently stroking the back of his hand with her thumb.

Maybe it was the wine, but he found himself entranced by her smile and by the musical sound of her laughter. Maybe. And maybe it was just the wine that made him smile gently back as her hand rested lightly on his, and her thumb stroked the back of his hand. Maybe.

"We are at the end of our honeymoon already, we'll be leaving back for Belfast in two days. You're welcome to take the train back with us, we'd love to have your company don't we Robert?"

She eyed Robert, her hand tightening on his signalling he'd better play along.

"Two weeks already. Too long by some measures," he said with a sigh, turning his hand and interlacing his fingers with hers. "And nowhere near long enough by any measures that matter." He smiled wistfully. "But yes, we'd love to have your company when we return, if you're willing to come."

"My friends," the Doctor said, his eyes twinkling, "if I am not imposing -"

"You aren't," Robert assured him, "Truly, you're not."

"Then I shall be delighted to come." He lifted his glass. "To good friends, old and new. And to young love, may it age like wine."

Robert lifted his glass as well. "And may the pleasures of the evening bear the reflections of the morning."

The glasses clinked together.

[Sisilaya Vulmecura]

She had envied Robert for being a man, really. It was not done for ladies to finish their plates completely, they were supposed to have dainty little bites. She indulged on the strawberries and sweet cream though, closing her eyes every now and then to enjoy the flavours in her mouth. They rarely had such good food.

When the discussion came around and she told her little white lie about they honeymoon she was surprised by how well Robert was playing his part, a slight blush creeping to her cheeks at his words. She didn't bother to mask it, it went perfectly with the act of a blushing bride.

"Two weeks already. Too long by some measures," he said with a sigh, turning his hand and interlacing his fingers with hers. "And nowhere near long enough by any measures that matter." He smiled wistfully. "But yes, we'd love to have your company when we return, if you're willing to come."

"My friends," the Doctor said, his eyes twinkling, "if I am not imposing -"

"You aren't," Robert assured him, "Truly, you're not."

"Robin is right, we'd enjoy your company Doctor." She agreed and gave Robert a warm smile as he interlaced their fingers, the smile actually reaching her eyes. Her eyes widened for a moment as she realised her mask had slipped and she was honestly smiling at him. Her jaw clenched for a split second before she sat back and gave the Doctor a dazzling smile again.

Robert lifted his glass as well. "And may the pleasures of the evening bear the reflections of the morning."

The glasses clinked together.

She just smiled and nodded, noting the duality in Roberts words. She looked at him for a moment before she too joined in with her glass, her eyes slightly hooded at Robert, a smirk on her lips for a short moment before smiling again. To the Doctor it would seem like just a flirty move.

To Robert it would seem like a fox smiling at it's prey.

Not that easy Scotman.


[[OOC: Shall we skip on to after the dinner when they're heading back to the hotel together?]]

[The Meddler]

Robert was feeling pretty good as he walked, arm in arm with Celia, to the car. Doctor Frobenius wasn't mad, and he had agreed to come with them. He'd also invited them back to dinner tomorrow evening, to make final plans for the trip to Belfast.

"I would not impose even that much on the last day of your honeymoon, but I suppose we must make plans," he had said.

The moon wasn't quite full overhead, but it was waxing and gibbous, and cast almost enough light to read by. A gentle breeze off the lake plucked at their clothes, and the sound of crickets made gentle music from the fields around the Doctor's villa.

He considered the car, then dug into his pocket and extracted the keys. "I'm a wee bit drunk," he confessed, alcohol and contentment bringing out the brogue he normally suppressed, "Nae badly drunk, but ye shoods probably drife." He paused. "Just tae be safe."

Stepping to the drivers side, he opened the car door for her. Then he stopped, and stared at her in the moonlight, suddenly breathless at the sight of her. Her skin shone like alabaster in the moonlight, and her coppery curls put him in mind of the wine-dark waters of the Mediterranean. He licked lips turned suddenly dry, acutely aware of the subtle interplay of light and shadow across her form.

Unable to speak, he mutely held the door for her and closed it after she stepped in. Then he walked around the car and slid into the passenger seat. "Ah... Ah think we did weel," he said, and then cursed mentally, wishing he'd said something else.

(OOC: Go ahead and narrate some portion of the drive, or skip us straight to pulling up in front of the hotel. Whatever strikes your fancy._

[Sisilaya Vulmecura]

It had initially been quiet as the left the grand house, the sound of their footsteps the only thing in the summer night. She looked up to take a look at the man beside her.Oh what fools these mortals be. She gave a soft chuckle as a sudden quote of the play came back to her at that moment, she felt something familiar crawl up her spine but she decided to ignore it. Probably the wine.

He considered the car, then dug into his pocket and extracted the keys. "I'm a wee bit drunk," he confessed, alcohol and contentment bringing out the brogue he normally suppressed, "Nae badly drunk, but ye shoods probably drife." He paused. "Just tae be safe."

She laughed and took the keys from him, the brogue putting a smile to her face. She had always secretly liked it, even though she would never admit it to him. Neither for the fact she thought he looked absolutely ravishing when he was a kilt. There were things his ego did not need to know.

For a moment, their eyes met as he looked at her face while he kept the door open for her, his dark eyes almost black in the moonlight. Again, that mask slipped as she took him in, torn between staying sensible and and.. god she didn't even know what else. She was afraid to venture that way at the moment. Quickly, she took a seat, starting the engine as Robert took a seat beside her.

"Ah... Ah think we did weel,"

She nodded slowly "Yes.. yes I think ye're right" she said, the Irish lilt showing through again.

She shook her head, moved the car out of the driveway and drove them back to the hotel in silence, the road before her a welcome distraction.

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The lock clicked softly as the entered the hotel room again, hearing it shut gently behind Robert. She placed her purse on the floor beside her, taking in the room around her. She felt like a virgin all over again, while she had slept with Robert god knows how many times. A blush crept onto her cheeks again, realising they were alone, with one bed to share.

The lighting was soft, romantic even. It only now came to her mind they had been given the bridal suite, of all rooms. dang that Moira. No wonder the bath had been so ridiculously large when she had gone for a quick wash up this morning.

"Well.. that was a successful night" She said softly, trying to break the silence.

She came to realise again how exposing her dress was, feeling Roberts eyes on her.

She refused to hide away from his eyes, though.

[The Meddler]

Robert locked the door, then threw the deadbolt by reflex. It was the sort of thing that had saved his life several times in the past. Then he turned, and the reality of the room sank in.

The gently-hissing gaslights cast a warm glow over the room, giving a soft focus to the furnishings. The polished woods of the wardrobe and the dresser seemed to glow, like sunlight through honey, and the canopy of the bed threw gentle shadows across the turned-down sheets and blankets.

He stared at the bed, feeling oddly anxious. Nervous, even. Which was absurd. They had literally shared a bed last night.

But not deliberately. Tonight, they would be planning to sleep in the same bed. The thought brought a feeling of giddy warmth in the pit of his stomach, and an odd burning sensation in his cheeks.

"Well.. that was a successful night" She said softly, trying to break the silence.

"Aye," he said, the brogue still slipping through. "That it was."

The first thing he noticed when he looked at her was that she was... blushing. it caught him off guard. In the three years they'd worked together, he'd seen her smile and frown, laugh and sigh, in throes of anger and of passion. But he'd never seen her look... vulnerable, before.

And that expression - a little shy, a little nervous, a little wistful - captivated him. His whole world contracted to eyes of jade, hair of copper, and a face transformed from the merely beautiful to the ineffably lovely.

He stepped closer, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her. Her presence, her closeness, made his skin tingle. He ached to hold her, and at the same time his arms felt too heavy to respond to his commands. And then, the tips of two of his fingers brushed along her throat and jaw as he lifted her chin.

"Ah, Celia," he whispered, suddenly realizing that he'd been holding his breath. "Many are the stars I see, but in my eye no star like thee."

And then, feeling his heart hammering in his chest, acting before he lost his nerve, he kissed her. Not in the manner of the rough, desperate, almost angry kisses they had shared the night before. But slowly, gently, savoring the taste and feel of her lips and the furnace-like warmth of her breath. The smoothness of her skin, as the fingers of his right hand slid down her throat and onto her shoulder.

He inhaled deeply as he drew back, his eyes searching her face, suddenly afraid of how she might respond.

[Sisilaya Vulmecura]

She held her breath when she heard his footsteps come closer, and for the longest time it seemed he stayed there, right behind her. She could feel his presence, his warmth so close to her skin without him actually touching her. She drew in a shuddered breath against the tension.

Then, two fingers trailed down her neck, warm and seeming to leave a trail of fire in their wake. Then, he lifted her chin, turning her around to face him, something she had been avoiding for fear of her own control.

"Ah, Celia," he whispered, suddenly realizing that he'd been holding his breath. "Many are the stars I see, but in my eye no star like thee."

And before she could say anything he had pulled her into a kiss, a kiss they had never experienced before. Usually their kisses were angry, frustrated and passionate, yet this time he kissed her like he wanted to take his time actually savouring her. It made her feel like something she had never felt before, it made her feel loved, a sensation she had always been frightened of because of what it would mean. She took in another shuddered breath and moved her arms up to wrap around his neck, intending to deepen the kiss. Yet, before she could, he broke it and she was left staring in those dark eyes again like she had done when they were outside getting in the car.

She closed her eyes, trying to brace herself. She felt insecure, something she never allowed herself to feel. And it hurt.

"We're on our own again, Robin. You don't have to keep on pretending to actually like me when we're in here." She said quietly with a small smile, one of her hands coming up to run through his auburn tresses gently, a way to avoid looking into his eyes.

[The Meddler]

Her eyes were closed, he noticed, and she seemed to be trembling. Just a little.

"We're on our own again, Robin. You don't have to keep on pretending to actually like me when we're in here." She said quietly with a small smile, one of her hands coming up to run through his auburn tresses gently.

"I've ne'er pretended to like ye, Celia," he said, his voice huskier than he'd intended. "I've known ye fer three years, now, an' I've ne'er had to pretend that."

Gently, he took her in his arms. "Ye may infuriate me at times, but I've ne'er not liked ye." She felt good in his embrace. She felt right. "An I... I..."

He laughed gently. "I'm talkin' too much, an' I'm not sayin' enough, is what I am." He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. "I..." he swallowed, nervously. "I love ye, Celia. An' if it took Moira's scheming and Leo's misunderstanding to make me realize it, than I'll bless their names every day for the rest o' my life."

There. He'd said it. Now he waited, anxiously, hopeful and afraid of what she might say.

[Sisilaya Vulmecura]

"I've ne'er pretended to like ye, Celia," he said, his voice huskier than he'd intended. "I've known ye fer three years, now, an' I've ne'er had to pretend that."

Gently, he took her in his arms. "Ye may infuriate me at times, but I've ne'er not liked ye." She felt good in his embrace. She felt right. "An I... I..."

She blinked, her hand still in his hair as he for the first time actually told her to her face that he liked her. She had always believed it had been a combination of the fact she was his boss, that she had a pretty face and the fact they had mind blowing sex was the only reason he tolerated her. She had picked at him as mercilessly the last three years as he had at her, the attraction had been there since day one but his ego had been as inflated as hers so they had ended up bantering back and forth for who would be top dog when they weren't working.

That had eventually lead to their first night together after almost nine months, they hadn't slept at all that night, too busy on literally shagging nine months of frustration out on each other. They had called in sick the next day, her first time ever staying home from the job. But boy what a reason it was, she remembered quite vividly she could barely walk that morning. Bloody Scotsman.

So now, as he held her in his arms and looked actually nervous she felt something inside her stir, warmth spreading through her body.

He laughed gently. "I'm talkin' too much, an' I'm not sayin' enough, is what I am." He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. "I..." he swallowed, nervously. "I love ye, Celia. An' if it took Moira's scheming and Leo's misunderstanding to make me realize it, than I'll bless their names every day for the rest o' my life."

Her hand stilled in his hair, and for a moment she just looked at him. Shocked. Had she heard him right? Had he uttered the word love only just seconds before. Yes, yes he had, and she was surprised at how it hadn't thrown her mood off at all. She had always despised the word, had not believed in love at all. But now, in the arms of the Scotsman before her she felt a warmth spread through her chest she had never felt before.

And she did not trust her voice not to waver any more. So, instead she opted for the next best thing.

Moving her face up, she lifted herself on her toes and gently ghosted her lips over his in a kiss.

[The Meddler]

She looked... shocked. He held his breath, waiting for her response, watching nameless emotions flicker over her face.

And then she stood on her toes and kissed him, lightly, her lips like flower petals.

It was hardly the first time she had kissed him. He still remembered the first kiss - an angry, aggressive gesture, tasting of wine and designed to shut him up. That kiss had turned into a struggle for dominance, and had ended with the both of them half-dressed and all of his research shoved right off his desk. It had actually taken them three tries to make it to the bedroom.

But somehow, that light and gentle kiss sang through his nerves in a way that all of their passionate, almost violent, encounters never had. He felt as if he were made of light, as if her warmth had filled him to bursting.

He looked at her again, drinking in the sight of those liquid green eyes and her coral lips, slightly parted. He was suddenly, acutely, aware of the warmth and softness of her body against his, and of the thin silk fabric that was all that separated his fingers from her flesh.

For a bare moment he hesitated, filled with awe and wonder by what he saw in her eyes. And then, gently, he pulled her against him, one hand running through her hair as he kissed her again. Gently at first, but with increasing passion, suddenly unable to taste or feel her enough.

(OOC: Probably getting close to the point where we fade to black and pick up with "the next morning...")

[Sisilaya Vulmecura]

She had focussed on just kissing him at first, the feeling of his lips against hers, something she had never really paid any attention to. And how well she seemed to fit in his arms, or so her mind told her.

Slowly, they parted again, both at them looking at each other in wonder. Had that been real? What was she doing, what was she really aiming for? She didn't know, and normally that would worry her because she always knew what she was aiming for, what her goals were. She fought viciously to get those goals.

Was he one of those goals now? She wasn't sure.

What she was sure of was what she was feeling when he pulled her close again and pulled her into another kiss, this one increasing with passion and she soon found herself pressed up against him.

"Robin.." She sighed against his lips, something familiar stirring within her.

[[Wasn't Torchwood 18+? Pfff! Just kidding P: Take it where you want to]]

[The Meddler]

((OOC: Torchwood's 18+, yes. But I'm pretty sure the Torchwood board is still 13+.

So let's see... ))

The next morning...

Robert awoke slowly, to sunlight in his eyes and the sound of gentle breathing and the warmth of her body. Carefully, trying not to wake her, he rolled on his side and watched her, awestruck. It wasn't a dream, he thought.

The previous night had been unlike any other he'd had with her. Well, the mechanics had been the same, particularly near the end. But the journey...

The gentle kisses had deepened, slowly growing more passionate. Somewhere along the way they'd killed the gas lamps and found their way to the bed, where he'd explored with fingers and lips the curves and contours he only thought he knew, and was explored in return.

It had taken most of the night to do what they had frequently done all night. But the heavy-lidded look of love and satisfaction and satiation she'd given him as her name tore itself from his lips..? Incredible.

They'd finally fallen asleep shortly thereafter. Not tangled together like usual, but holding each other, gently caressing and kissing, whispering sleepy endearments until their eyes could no longer remain open.

And now, in the mid-morning light, she was still there. Carefully, not wanting to wake her, he nestled up against her, one arm gently wrapping around her waist. God, he thought, to wake up like this every morning. To wake up to this - to her - every morning...

He didn't finish the thought, content instead to feel the warmth of her back and listen to her breathing...

---

The morning was spent, as these sorts of mornings are wont to be spent, with a mixture of shyness and enthusiasm and exploration of new feelings that can cause something as simple as 'washing up' to require multiple tries and several hours, and breakfast to be eaten around lunchtime.

Robert smiled at himself in the mirror as he tied his tie. Sure, he decided, it sounds corny. But I feel different. Like there's a weight off my shoulders. He did up his cufflinks and, as he did, his eyes fell on his ring and began to trace the exotic curvilinear designs engraved into it. For an instant, they seemed to make sense. Strange thoughts, memories not his own, seemed to well up.

And then a voice seemed to say "Not yet". He blinked, and the feeling was gone. He shook his head. "Maybe I'm still a little hung over," he grimaced. Then he saw Celia in the mirror, and felt his heart skip a beat. "Or maybe I'm still drunk," he smiled.

---

The afternoon was spent posing as tourists, this time walking a path that led alongside the lake. Did they seem sappy and romantic, as they walked? Sure, but most of the tourists did, so it hardly mattered. For a few brief hours they were content to just be, without concern for the Institute or anything else.

We will give them their privacy.

---

Biganzolo
About ten miles from Arona
The shores of Lake Maggiore
Piedmont, Italy
August 8, 1938
Early evening.

Robert steered the automobile along the narrow Italian road, enjoying the wind in his hair and the unexpected feeling of contentment that he'd had all day. They'd all but wrapped up an assignment that had proved to be refreshingly simple, and they were about to spend a second evening in the delightful company of Doctor Frobenius and his talented chef. Oh, and he was in love.

He smiled at the thought.

The car rounded the last curve, about a quarter of a mile from the Doctor's villa, and he brought the car to a stop. A truck, hood open, with a man working on the engine, blocked the road. Another man walked towards the car, waving his hands.

"Go back!" he shouted, "You need to go back!"

Robert glanced at Celia, then opened the door. "Do you need any help?" he asked, stepping from the car. "I'm a fair mechanic..."

"No," the man said, drawing closer. "No, no help. You just need to go back!"

"Are you sure?" Robert asked, trying to place the man's accent. "It's no trouble, and we need to get past you anyway."

"You will not be passing tonight, I'm afraid."

"Celia..." he said out of the side of his mouth. "There's something wrong here..."

The man lowered his hands, and produced a pistol - a Luger, Robert recognized - from inside his coat. "Since you are unwilling to leave, you will stay until we are finished. Make no sudden moves, mein herr. The safety of your companion depends on it."

((OOC: There. I think that managed a PG-13 rating.

Also, there is an accompanying PM.)

[Sisilaya Vulmecura]

Waking up with his arm wrapped around her bare waist had for the first time been an experience where she didn't feel any discomfort at all, instead she had just rolled over towards him and snuggled up to his chest before falling back asleep again. His scent surrounding her making her relax.

The morning had been as wonderful as the night before she had to admit. They were shared between kisses and intimate contact, the bathing taking much longer then it normally should have, that and the fact the bathroom floor was now covered in water. They had just laughed like two little children. Of course, they hadn't gone all lovely dovely at all times and had ended up bickering over what they were going to do that day. But in the end they ended up in a tumble, kissing fast and ending up laughing as they came to a middle solution for the both of them.

The walk alongside the lake was lovely, and she was confronted again by how at ease she felt and how the hell they had managed to fight their ego's for this long. For once, she did not think about Torchwood but instead concentrated at the man beside her. Even though her pride was in confusion at the moment, she shoved it back and held his hand the remainder of the walk.

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Once again they were in a car, she was wearing her sunglasses, her green silk shawl draped about her hair and neck, billowing gently in the wind. She too had a look of content on her face. The well known look of bored elegance in place again, but a warmth in her eyes whenever she looked at the man beside her. It was still Celia after all, a woman of style.

She raised her brow when they rounded a bend in the road and there was a man waving franticly at them. Robert slowed the car down and her eyes narrowed slightly behind the sunglasses when she heard the German accent. Nazi's.

"Go back!" he shouted, "You need to go back!"

Robert glanced at Celia, then opened the door. "Do you need any help?" he asked, stepping from the car. "I'm a fair mechanic..."

"No," the man said, drawing closer. "No, no help. You just need to go back!"

"Are you sure?" Robert asked, trying to place the man's accent. "It's no trouble, and we need to get past you anyway."

The way the man kept telling them to go back alarmed her, but she didn't show it on her face. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, taking in the scene before her.

"You will not be passing tonight, I'm afraid."

"Celia..." he said out of the side of his mouth. "There's something wrong here..."

The man lowered his hands, and produced a pistol - a Luger, Robert recognized - from inside his coat. "Since you are unwilling to leave, you will stay until we are finished. Make no sudden moves, mein herr. The safety of your companion depends on it."

Without looking at Robert she lowered her sunglasses, giving the man a pointed look before she rested her elbow on the car door, resting her chin on the back of her hand. Lips slightly parted her green eyes looked at the barrel of the gun with a mix of mischief and seductiveness. She raised a well shaped brow.

"Oh trust me, mein Herr. You don't need that gun to get me to cooperate." She said softly, as if the man and her were sharing a private conversation. Her tongue darted over the corner of her lower lip for a split moment, but enough for the man to see.

She might not have the perfume on now, but when needed she could do without. All men succumbed to the same weaknesses.