Torchwood 1938: Let Us Build Us A City

[Sisilaya Vulmecura]

She saw his look of objection quite clear, had expected it. Still, she just gave him a look, a single eyebrow raised that signalled that she would have no objections. Unlike when they were in private, in their professional field it was her who was in charge.

"Have I ever mentioned how irritating you are when you're right?"

"Oh, often. Have I ever told you how satisfying it is for me, too?" She said with a smirk on her face, her green eyes hooding as she hauled him up by his good arm.

"Time to get you inside"

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It had taken a bit of force to get Robert to the kitchen, she needed access to clean water and most likely she'd find some alcohol and sewing kit in there. Finding the dead cook had been an unpleasant surprise and she had agreed that informing the authorities would be a bad idea. After placing a dining cloth over the dead cook, she did not appease to the sight of it, she placed Robert down in one of the kitchen chairs and immediately went to work. Commanding him to take his shirt and jacket off first.

The wound on his shoulder was bad and good indeed. Even though it was ragged and thus no clean cut and thus painful to stitch up, because it was going to need just that, she was glad that no bullet had pierced his skin. She had come from the kitchen cabinet, a large bottle of brandy in hand, she didn't have the heart to give him the green faerie, after she had told him to take a good swig from it to numb the pain that surely would be there when she'd begin stitching that wound up. She took the bottle back from him.

Pain twisted his face as the tear throbbed. "So, anyway. How are you with a needle and thread?"

Then without warning and a straight face, she splashed the brandy in the wound to clean it. After which she pressed a soaked with cold water cloth onto it to numb the pain.

"I'm pretty decent with needle and threat, sorry for that" She mumbled, the corner of her mouth twitching up.

Taking the needle and threat, she looked up at him.

"This is going to sting" She said softly, going to work.

[The Meddler]

Taking the needle and threat, she looked up at him.

"This is going to sting" She said softly, going to work.

And sting it did. The worst part wasn't the needle, though, or the tugging as she pulled torn flesh back together. No, the worst part was trying to keep his arm relaxed - tensing up just meant she had to push harder to drive the needle.

"Without anything else to go on," he said, talking as much to distract himself as anything else, "I'm thinking they'll head for Verona." He hissed a little in pain. "Genoa's an option, since it's a port city, but Verona seems more likely. From there they can head north for Austria, or keep going east towards Venice."

He gritted his teeth at a particularly painful tug on the thread, then gripped the edge of the sink with his left hand. The combination of blood loss and booze was making him feel light-headed. "If we're lucky, they're headed for Venice. I know a guy there, he'd be able to help us out."

He gripped the sink tightly again, gritting his teeth. Maybe those notes the Doctor mentioned will give us a clue."

Finally, and in less time than it felt, she was done. He eyed the results - small stitches, as neat as possible given the wound - and nodded. "Better than I would've managed," he said, looking up at her. "Thank you."

He reclaimed the brandy bottle, and allowed himself one more swig. The stitches still ached abysmally, after all. Then he laughed a little as he smiled up at her. "You're brilliant. You're beautiful. You're an excellent shot with a submachine gun. And it turns out you're a skilled field medic." He paused. "If I wasn't woozy and hurting so much, I think I'd be seriously turned on right now."

[Sisilaya Vulmecura]

"Without anything else to go on," he said, talking as much to distract himself as anything else, "I'm thinking they'll head for Verona." He hissed a little in pain. "Genoa's an option, since it's a port city, but Verona seems more likely. From there they can head north for Austria, or keep going east towards Venice."

He gritted his teeth at a particularly painful tug on the thread, then gripped the edge of the sink with his left hand. The combination of blood loss and booze was making him feel light-headed. "If we're lucky, they're headed for Venice. I know a guy there, he'd be able to help us out."

"We need to watch out though, if they leave through Venice. With those canals it's easy to vanish without any trace if they have a vessel that can take on the Mediterranean sea."

She again disinfected the wound with brandy when she was done stitching, she got up and looked into the cupboards soon enough finding what she was looking for, some clean cotton and some gauze. wrapping up the stitched wound meticulously.

Finally, and in less time than it felt, she was done. He eyed the results - small stitches, as neat as possible given the wound - and nodded. "Better than I would've managed," he said, looking up at her. "Thank you."

"You're welco-" She blinked as the brandy bottle was snatched from her hands, Robert downing quite a bit in one go. She chuckled softly and shook her head. She was about to reprimand him, but it seemed he saw it coming so he interrupted her before she could open her mouth.

"You're brilliant. You're beautiful. You're an excellent shot with a submachine gun. And it turns out you're a skilled field medic." He paused. "If I wasn't woozy and hurting so much, I think I'd be seriously turned on right now."

She laughed, the first laugh on her since they had gotten to this house. She leaned in and gave him a warm kiss on his lips, giving his good shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Yes well, Torchwood only hires the best after all,"She said with a wink " and perhaps the fact that we have two dead ones in this house would kind of dampen the mood too."

She looked back at the dead cook they had covered with a sheet.

"I'm at loss what to do with them. I'm tempted to just leave the scene and wait for the police to find out what happened here. But if so, we need to leave, now."

[The Meddler]

The kiss was gentle, and pleasant, and almost enough to distract him from his shoulder. Almost. A few more, and a change of scenery would probably do the trick.

Sadly, they were in a house full of dead people.

"Yes well, Torchwood only hires the best after all,"She said with a wink " and perhaps the fact that we have two dead ones in this house would kind of dampen the mood too."

"At least a little, yes," he agreed with a laugh.

She looked back at the dead cook they had covered with a sheet.

"I'm at loss what to do with them. I'm tempted to just leave the scene and wait for the police to find out what happened here. But if so, we need to leave, now."

"Yeah," he agreed, standing and then gripping the edge of the sink for support. "Good idea."

Then he looked at the blood-soaked sleeve of his shirt and jacket. "Once we borrow some clothes from the Doctor, that is. The less attention we attract, the better."

---

The Doctor was a little shorter, but substantially stouter, than Robert. As a result, the white sport coat they chose was baggy around the chest and stomach, and two inches too short in the arms.

"But," as Robert observed, grimacing at the effect, "it isn't soaked in blood."

The bloody shirt and coat were stuffed in a pillowcase, and the Doctor's papers went in an envelope. By now, Robert was feeling a little better. He was still pale and winded by the time they reached the car, though.

"Celia, love," he said, collapsing into the passenger seat. "You're going to have to drive." He chuckled. "It's becoming something of a habit, isn't it?" He paused, leaning his head back against the seat. "Is there anything back at the hotel we need?"

[Sisilaya Vulmecura]

The change of clothes had seemed like a great idea at first. In the mean time she had time while Robert got changed she got to wash her feet to get rid of the dirt, putting her heels back on afterwards. She had shaken the dust out of her hair, washed her hands and face and retouched some of her make up. The dirt stains in her dress would have to come later.

The look on her face when Robert emerged in the ill fitting clothes put a mirthful look on her face, a barely contained smile.

"But," as Robert observed, grimacing at the effect, "it isn't soaked in blood."

"Indeed it is not, if you roll back the cuffs on the shirt it should look fine for now"

He did look terrible by the time they got to the car. He was pale, a small sheen of sweat on his brow. The alcohol didn't seem to help him look better either even though it did numb his pain. It worried her to see him like this and she wordlessly got into the driving seat, starting the engine.

"Is there anything back at the hotel we need?"

"I need to get a change of clothes, something more practical then this. So do you, we'll stand out too much the way we look now. We'll have a quick wash up and grab our stuff then I'll drive us back to France to catch the ferry to Ireland. Actually, might catch the ferry to England, it's time we met up with Torchwood Cardiff to talk about these 'Blue Box' files."

Kicking down on the gas pedal, they drove off into the night, leaving the house and it's dead inhabitants behind.

[The Meddler]

"I need to get a change of clothes, something more practical then this. So do you, we'll stand out too much the way we look now. We'll have a quick wash up and grab our stuff then I'll drive us back to France to catch the ferry to Ireland. Actually, might catch the ferry to England, it's time we met up with Torchwood Cardiff to talk about these 'Blue Box' files."

"Wha' aboot the scepter?" he asked, fatigue causing him to lapse back into his brogue. ""If the SS-G wants it, we cannae let 'em ha'e it. An' if we head back to England now, we'll lose the trail."

He didn't miss the concerned glances she kept giving him as she drove. "Nae, Celia. Dinna worry none 'boot me. I've had worse'n this." He winced as he forgot for a second, and tried to gesture with his wounded arm. "Ye've seen the scars, love." He blinked vigorously, fighting back sleep. "I jus' need some food, an' a wee bit o' rest, an' tae remember no' tae drink when I'm a pint doon."

Robert yawned a jaw-cracking yawn. "I shoulda raided the Dooctor's pantry, I shoulda. Boot that'd look good, us sittin' in his kitchen eatin' a sandwich, wit' 'im deed in the study."

He stared out the window, then finally laid his head back. "I think I'll ha'e a little nap, now. Wake me when we're at the hotel."

Soon, a gentle snoring filled the car.

[Sisilaya Vulmecura]

"Wha' aboot the scepter?" he asked, fatigue causing him to lapse back into his brogue. "If the SS-G wants it, we cannae let 'em ha'e it. An' if we head back to England now, we'll lose the trail."

"Honestly Robert, we underestimated this whole mission. We should ahve come with some backup. I hate to say it, but even with our training it's highly unlikely we can take on that many Germans. We'd just be risking our necks for a lost cause. I don't like how they keep searching for every trail of the Blue Box. I'd rather go straight to Cardiff and find out what is going on there. Because every lead we've had on the blue box leads back to that city."

She sighed at his words, his tough talk that he could take the pain "I know when you're lying, Robert. Don't insult me." She hissed through her teeth.

By the time she looked back at him she found him fast asleep. She decided to keep him that way for now. She on the other hand would have to tank up on coffee if she wanted to stay awake the whole ride to France.

They drove on in silence.

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She wasted no time at the hotel, immediately throwing her dress off and making for the bath. She probably had the quickest bathing there ever. With her hair still wet and clad in just a towel she emerged barely ten minutes later.

"Your turn, if you need help just call" she said.

This time she had opted for more sensible clothes. A flaring knee length burgundy skirt with zits on the sides to allow for free movement and quick access under the skirt, because to her stockings clad tighs were two miniature guns strapped. Above that, a cream blouse and a simple black waistcoat. She opted for the sturdier knee high strapped boots this time, still with a slight heel but low enough to manoeuvre and run quickly in.

The makeup was re-applied soon enough.

She had their bags packed and ready to go by the time Robert emerged from the bathroom.

[The Meddler]

She wasted no time at the hotel, immediately throwing her dress off and making for the bath. She probably had the quickest bathing there ever. With her hair still wet and clad in just a towel she emerged barely ten minutes later.

By then, Robert was tucking in to the food he'd rung up from room service - cold cuts and bread and cheese, washed down with water - and he was starting to feel human again. The nap in the car had helped as well - he was still a little light-headed, but the rubbery feeling in his legs was gone.

"Your turn, if you need help just call" she said.

"Right," he said, unwinding the bandage on his arm and stripping off his pants. "I'll do that."

His second bath of the day was quick, and slightly awkward, and nowhere near as much fun as the first had been. But despite a terribly sore arm, he managed to get himself clean and dry in a reasonable amount of time. He did give up and call for help with - of all things - combing his hair.

"Pulls at the stitches something fierce," he said, embarrased. "I feel stupid asking."

Getting dressed was easier, fortunatly. He chose khakis and a white oxford, and anavy blazer. He also rearranged his shoulder holster for a left-handed draw, and buckled it on under his left arm.

"I want to go on record - just between us - as saying I don't agree with your decision to let the SS-G make off with that scepter," Robert said after swallowing a final bite of bread. Then he sighed. "But I've said my piece, and I'll follow your lead. What's our plan for getting out of Italy?"

[Sisilaya Vulmecura]

Celia ate the leftovers Robert had left behind while he was in the bath. She too, had been starving so it had felt wonderful to down some food to keep her stomach busy for the upcoming three hours.

She was surprised he hadn't asked for help until finally, she heard his voice coming from the bathroom, she was already on her feet by the time he poked his head around the door.

"Pulls at the stitches something fierce," he said, embarrased. "I feel stupid asking."

She chuckled softly, gave him a kiss and murmured a "Silly man" before she went to work, combing his hair back. Strangely, she liked doing it. Dressing went better and he didn't need her help much, even though she did help him tuck in things when he was struggling.

"I want to go on record - just between us - as saying I don't agree with your decision to let the SS-G make off with that scepter," Robert said after swallowing a final bite of bread. Then he sighed. "But I've said my piece, and I'll follow your lead. What's our plan for getting out of Italy?"

"I know you rather would have gone after the sceptre and usually I would have gone too. But I've told you I get these premonitions in the shape of sudden strong intuition. And right now, I'm having one that is strongly saying that the Blue Box files is what they are really after, not the sceptre. The sceptre is just a side issue. That's why I find it wiser to go straight to Cardiff and punch the information out of Sir Jack Harkness if we have to."

She had tried to be funny on the last bit, but failed miserably. This mission had gone horribly wrong and she didn't like it, that was clear. None of her missions have ever failed.

"I'm not leaving Moira a telegram, I don't trust the lines here. I don't want them to get to Cardiff before we do"

[The Meddler]

"I know you rather would have gone after the sceptre and usually I would have gone too," she sounded miserable, and angry. "But I've told you I get these premonitions in the shape of sudden strong intuition. And right now, I'm having one that is strongly saying that the Blue Box files is what they are really after, not the sceptre. The sceptre is just a side issue. That's why I find it wiser to go straight to Cardiff and punch the information out of Sir Jack Harkness if we have to."

Robert opened his mouth, then closed it again. "No fair bringing premonitions up after I've said I'll follow your lead," he protested, trying to lighten the mood. From her expression, it didn't help. He sighed. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not leaving Moira a telegram, I don't trust the lines here. I don't want them to get to Cardiff before we do"

"Probably a good idea." He looked around the room, regretfully. Now that he'd warmed up to it, he'd been looking forward to a few more days here.

"Well, no time like the present." He stood up, and grabbed the larger suitcase with his good arm. "Shall we go?"

(OOC: Care to narrate getting us on the road?)

[Sisilaya Vulmecura]

They had quickly checked out, left the room as if they had never been there. She had pushed the receptionist some money in hand to erase them from the reservation books.

So again, they were in the car again, her behind the wheel with some soft Rock n' Roll tunes coming from from their radio. Even though it was warm out, she had decided to leave their roof closed. Nobody needed to know they were in there. Robert had a fedora on his head and she had wrapped one of her silk scarves around her hair in a more fashionable style.

Their trip was silent most of the way, her green eyes every now and then checking up on the softly snoring man beside her. The bath had done him well, he at least looked healthier now and his stitches hadn't start bleeding again.

After about roughly 4 hours and a quick pit stop to get some gas, coffee for herself and some sandwiches for Robert they were close to the border at Turin, soon they would cross over to France and go past Lyon. From there, it would be another 10 hours towards Caen.

Morning was starting to arise when they passed Baeune and she was starting to realise that she was having trouble keeping her eyes on the road. Next to her, Robert was awaking from his slumber.

"Good morning sleeping beauty, think you are able to drive? If not we're going to have to stop soon and find a motel, my coffee is starting to lose it's kick I'm afraid"

That was lightly putted, there were dark circles under her eyes and her eye white were slightly pinked with fatigue. She had to sleep soon.

[The Meddler]

The last thing he'd remembered was a pit stop, late in the evening, near Turin. There had been a bit of a debate with the station owner about whether he would open up for them - it was late, after all - but Celia could be extremely persuasive when she wanted. He vaguely recalled insisting that she wake him in a few hours, so he could take his turn driving, and then he dozed off.

There was light in his eyes. He shifted, feeling uncomfortable, neck and back and right arm stiff. Finally, he opened his eyes to see dawn peeking in through the driver's side windows.

"Good morning sleeping beauty, think you are able to drive? If not we're going to have to stop soon and find a motel, my coffee is starting to lose it's kick I'm afraid"

He blinked at her, noting the dark circles around fatigued-reddened eyes. "Ah, Celia," he groaned, twisting his head to try to work the stiffness out of his neck. "You should've woken me up. I could have spelled you for a while."

He moved his arm experimentally, and winced. "I should be able to drive, as long as I don't have to do anything fancy. Arm's still sore, and I expect it will be until it heals."

He looked at her again, and shook his head. "But maybe we should find a hotel. Let you get some real rest, and give the engine a break." He looked out the window. "Where are we, anyway?"

[Sisilaya Vulmecura]

He blinked at her, noting the dark circles around fatigued-reddened eyes. "Ah, Celia," he groaned, twisting his head to try to work the stiffness out of his neck. "You should've woken me up. I could have spelled you for a while."

"Yes well, you looked like a little angel asleep. It would have broken my heart to wake you" She said with a smile, but in all honestly she hadn't woken him because his body needed the sleep to repair the damage to his arm, he would need it again soon enough.

He moved his arm experimentally, and winced. "I should be able to drive, as long as I don't have to do anything fancy. Arm's still sore, and I expect it will be until it heals."

He looked at her again, and shook his head. "But maybe we should find a hotel. Let you get some real rest, and give the engine a break." He looked out the window. "Where are we, anyway?"

"A hotel sounds divine actually. I could really use a beauty nap. We're in France now anyway, close to a town called Beaune last time I checked the signs, I think there should be at least a bed and breakfast there. That and I don't want to overheat the engine, then we'd be in even more trouble. Then again, going on with a new car might not be a bad idea."

Soon enough, they indeed had pulled over. It was a quaint little French cottage with a grape orchard behind it. At the front there was a Chambre d'hotes sign.

"Your French is better then mine, ask for a room for the remainder of the day, we'll continue on this afternoon after we've slept decently." By the looks of it it was about 5:30 am

Soon enough the door in front of them opened by an elderly couple. She smiled politely.

[[OOC: narrate them through it till they're back driving again and close to the ferry stop to England]]

[The Meddler]

The elderly French couple seemed surprised to have an English couple arrive early in the morning, asking for a room for the day. But after a few minutes conversation - they in their Provençal-accented French, and Robert in his Algerian-accented French and oddly-archaic phrasings - he was able to secure both a room and breakfast.

"If it comes up," he told her over a breakfast of pastries and fruit, "I told them that we're married - no reason to scandalize the locals - and that we got lost last night. Oh, and we were afraid that I'd broken my arm last night when the car slipped while I was changing a tire. That's why you were driving, even though you're clearly exhausted."

He chewed down a pastry and washed it down with a glass of water. "Speaking of which, we should probably get you to bed. I could still carry you upstairs with only one good arm, but it would be extremely undignified."

---

She was snoring almost before her head hit the pillow. He shook his head fondly and then, trying not to wake her, got her boots and waistcoat off. Then he tucked the blanket around her, hung a "do not disturb" sign on the doorknob, and sat at the small table in the room.

He stripped and cleaned his pistol, reassembled it, and reholstered it (the shoulder rig was now hanging from the back of the chair). Then he set to work trying to decipher Professor Frobenius' spidery scrawl.

---

Robert reached for his pistol as he woke to the sound of a knock at the door. "Monsieur?" a voice called in French. "You asked to be awakened by two of the clock."

"Thank you," he called back, rubbing at his eyes. Study hadn't lasted long - their 'rental' car made a poor bed, and he'd started yawning within an hour. The last clear thing he'd remembered was thinking that he'd just stretch out on the bed for a few minutes...

Strange dreams, too. Something about a flying castle...

"C'mon, love," he called, shaking Celia gently. "Time to get up."

---

It was nearing 8 p.m. by the time they rolled into Caen. His arm was still stiff, and he figured it would be for a while, but he'd insisted that they trade off driving each hour. That also had the advantage of making them get out and stretch their legs for a few minutes, which made the trip more bearable.

"It'd be nice if the ferry was running this evening," Robert commented from the passenger seat. "I'm ready for this marathon to be over."

He looked out the window. "Also, if we come back here on vacation? I think we should take more than one day to see France."